Article,Summary
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in Raiders of the Second Moon? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>  Raiders of the Second Moon     By GENE ELLERMAN     A strange destiny had erased Noork's memory,     and had brought him to this tiny world—to     write an end to his first existence.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Summer 1945.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Beyond earth swings that airless pocked mass of fused rock and grayvolcanic dust that we know as Luna. Of this our naked eyes assure us.But of the smaller satellite, hidden forever from the mundane view byLuna's bulk, we know little.     Small is Sekk, that second moon, less than five hundred miles indiameter, but the period of its revolution is thirty two hours, and itsmeaner mass retains a breathable atmosphere. There is life on Sekk,life that centers around the sunken star-shaped cavity where an ovallake gleams softly in the depths. And the eleven radiating tips of thestarry abyss are valleys green with jungle growth.     In one of those green valleys the white savage that the Vasads calledNoork squatted in the ample crotch of a jungle giant and watched thetrail forty feet below. For down there moved alertly a golden skinnedgirl, her only weapons a puny polished bow of yellow wood and asheathed dagger.     Sight of the girl's flowing brown hair and the graceful femininecontours of her smooth-limbed body beneath its skin-halter and theinsignificant breech-clout, made his brow wrinkle with concentration.Not forever had he lived in this jungle world of valleys and raggedcliffs. Since he had learned the tongue of the hairy Vasads of forest,and the tongue of their gold-skinned leader, Gurn, the renegade, he hadconfirmed that belief.     For a huge gleaming bird had carried him in its talons to the top ofthe cliff above their valley and from the rock fire had risen to devourthe great bird. Somehow he had been flung clear and escaped the deathof the mysterious bird-thing. And in his delirium he had babbled thewords that caused the apish Vasads to name him Noork. Now he repeatedthem aloud.     New York, he said, good ol' New York.     The girl heard. She looked upward fearfully, her rounded bare arm goingback to the bow slung across her shoulder. Swiftly she fitted an arrowand stepped back against the friendly bole of a shaggy barked junglegiant. Noork grinned.     Tako, woman, he greeted her.     Tako, she replied fearfully. Who speaks to Tholon Sarna? Be youhunter or escaped slave?     A friend, said Noork simply. It was I who killed the spotted      narl     last night when it attacked you.     Doubtfully the girl put away her bow. Her fingers, however, were neverfar from the hilt of her hunting dagger.     Noork swung outward from his perch, and then downward along the ladderof limbs to her side. The girl exclaimed at his brown skin.     Your hair is the color of the sun! she said. Your garb is Vasad, yetyou speak the language of the true men. Her violet oddly slanting eyesopened yet wider. Who are you?     I am Noork, the man told her. For many days have I dwelt among thewild Vasads of the jungle with their golden-skinned chief, Gurn, formy friend.     The girl impulsively took a step nearer. Gurn! she cried. Is he talland strong? Has he a bracelet of golden discs linked together withhuman hair? Does he talk with his own shadow when he thinks?     That is Gurn, admitted Noork shortly. He is also an exile from thewalled city of Grath. The city rulers call him a traitor. He has toldme the reason. Perhaps you know it as well?     Indeed I do, cried Sarna. My brother said that we should no longermake slaves of the captured Zurans from the other valleys.     Noork smiled. I am glad he is your brother, he said simply.  <doc-sep>   HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS     By JIM HARMON     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Every lonely man tries to make friends.     Manet just didn't know when to stop!      William Manet was alone.     In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It wouldgive him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlateloneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take himto start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to beginteaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminablelectures to a bored and captive audience of one.     He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whetherit was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and asdirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal andthink more like a god than any man for generations.     But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearingbore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.     Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was alreadytalking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he hadcut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up andwinked at it whenever he passed that way.     Lately she was winking back at him.     Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh fromhis arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.     No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manetcould only be this lonely on Mars.     Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.     All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middleof the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat,flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in theblack sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moonsand one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The wholegimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one wasneeded here—no human being, at least.     The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn'ttake much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefullyspecified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycombMars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.     They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated peoplefor the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going toisolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manetand his fellows.     The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fareto Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuterservice for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodationsfor couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren'tproviding fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits betweenthe various Overseers. They weren't very providential.     But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offeredwonderful opportunities.     It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship makinga tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning asbright as envy.  <doc-sep>You don't get to be Precinct Captain on nothing but politicalconnections. Those help, of course, but you need more than that. AsCaptain Hanks was fond of pointing out, you needed as well to be bothmore imaginative than most—You gotta be able to second-guess thesmart boys—and to be a complete realist—You gotta have both feeton the ground. If these were somewhat contradictory qualities, it wasbest not to mention the fact to Captain Hanks.     The realist side of the captain's nature was currently at the fore.Just what are you trying to say, Stevenson? he demanded.     I'm not sure, admitted Stevenson. But we've got these two things.First, there's the getaway car from that bank job. The wheels melt forno reason at all, and somebody burns 'The Scorpion' onto the trunk.Then, yesterday, this guy Higgins out in Canarsie. He says the rifleall of a sudden got too hot to hold, and he's got the burn marks toprove it. And there on the rifle stock it is again. 'The Scorpion'.     He says he put that on there himself, said the captain.     Stevenson shook his head. His      lawyer     says he put it on there.Higgins says he doesn't remember doing it. That's half the lawyer'scase. He's trying to build up an insanity defense.     He put it on there himself, Stevenson, said the captain with wearypatience. What are you trying to prove?     I don't know. All I know is it's the nuttiest thing I ever saw. Andwhat about the getaway car? What about those tires melting?     They were defective, said Hanks promptly.     All four of them at once? And what about the thing written on thetrunk?     How do I know? demanded the captain. Kids put it on before the carwas stolen, maybe. Or maybe the hoods did it themselves, who knows?What do      they     say?     They say they didn't do it, said Stevenson. And they say they neversaw it before the robbery and they would have noticed it if it'd beenthere.     The captain shook his head. I don't get it, he admitted. What areyou trying to prove?     I guess, said Stevenson slowly, thinking it out as he went along, Iguess I'm trying to prove that somebody melted those tires, and madethat rifle too hot, and left his signature behind.     What? You mean like in the comic books? Come on, Stevenson! What areyou trying to hand me?     All I know, insisted Stevenson, is what I see.     And all      I     know, the captain told him, is Higgins put that name onhis rifle himself. He says so.     And what made it so hot?     Hell, man, he'd been firing that thing at people for an hour! What doyou      think     made it hot?     All of a sudden?     He noticed it all of a sudden, when it started to burn him.     How come the same name showed up each time, then? Stevenson askeddesperately.     How should I know? And why not, anyway? You know as well as I do thesethings happen. A bunch of teen-agers burgle a liquor store and theywrite 'The Golden Avengers' on the plate glass in lipstick. It happensall the time. Why not 'The Scorpion'? It couldn't occur to two people?     But there's no explanation— started Stevenson.     What do you mean, there's no explanation? I just      gave     you theexplanation. Look, Stevenson, I'm a busy man. You got a nuttyidea—like Wilcox a few years ago, remember him? Got the idea therewas a fiend around loose, stuffing all those kids into abandonedrefrigerators to starve. He went around trying to prove it, and gettingall upset, and pretty soon they had to put him away in the nut hatch.Remember?     I remember, said Stevenson.     Forget this silly stuff, Stevenson, the captain advised him.     Yes, sir, said Stevenson....     The day after Jerome Higgins went berserk, the afternoon mail brought acrank letter to the      Daily News     :     Dear Mr. Editor,     You did not warn your readers. The man who shot all those people couldnot escape the Scorpion. The Scorpion fights crime. No criminal issafe from the Scorpion. WARN YOUR READERS.     Sincerely yours,     THE SCORPION     Unfortunately, this letter was not read by the same individual who hadseen the first one, two months before. At any rate, it was filed in thesame place, and forgotten.      III     Hallowe'en is a good time for a rumble. There's too many kids aroundfor the cops to keep track of all of them, and if you're picked upcarrying a knife or a length of tire chain or something, why, you're onyour way to a Hallowe'en party and you're in costume. You're going as aJD.     The problem was this schoolyard. It was a block wide, with entranceson two streets. The street on the north was Challenger territory, andthe street on the south was Scarlet Raider territory, and both sidesclaimed the schoolyard. There had been a few skirmishes, a few guysfrom both gangs had been jumped and knocked around a little, but thathad been all. Finally, the War Lords from the two gangs had met, anddetermined that the matter could only be settled in a war.     The time was chosen: Hallowe'en. The place was chosen: the schoolyard.The weapons were chosen: pocket knives and tire chains okay, but nopistols or zip-guns. The time was fixed: eleven P.M. And the winnerwould have undisputed territorial rights to the schoolyard, bothentrances.     The night of the rumble, the gangs assembled in their separateclubrooms for last-minute instructions. Debs were sent out to playchicken at the intersections nearest the schoolyard, both to warn ofthe approach of cops and to keep out any non-combatant kids who mightcome wandering through.     Judy Canzanetti was a Deb with the Scarlet Raiders. She was fifteenyears old, short and black-haired and pretty in a movie-magazine,gum-chewing sort of way. She was proud of being in the Auxiliary of theScarlet Raiders, and proud also of the job that had been assigned toher. She was to stand chicken on the southwest corner of the street.     Judy took up her position at five minutes to eleven. The streets weredark and quiet. Few people cared to walk this neighborhood after dark,particularly on Hallowe'en. Judy leaned her back against the telephonepole on the corner, stuck her hands in the pockets of her ScarletRaider jacket and waited.     At eleven o'clock, she heard indistinct noises begin behind her. Therumble had started.     At five after eleven, a bunch of little kids came wandering down thestreet. They were all about ten or eleven years old, and most of themcarried trick-or-treat shopping bags. Some of them had Hallowe'en maskson.     They started to make the turn toward the schoolyard. Judy said, Hey,you kids. Take off.     One of them, wearing a red mask, turned to look at her. Who, us?     Yes, you! Stay out of that street. Go on down that way.     The subway's this way, objected the kid in the red mask.     Who cares? You go around the other way.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>Theodor recognized the shrunken wrinkle-seamed face. It was ColonelFortescue, a military antique long retired from the Peace Patrol andreputed to have seen actual fighting in the Last Age of Madness. Now,for some reason, the face sported a knowing smile.     Theodor shrugged. Just then the TV big news light blinked blue andthe girl switched on audio. The Colonel winked at Theodor.     ... confirming the disappearance of Jupiter's moons. But two otherutterly fantastic reports have just been received. First, LunarObservatory One says that it is visually tracking fourteen small bodieswhich it believes may be the lost moons of Jupiter. They are movingoutward from the Solar System at an incredible velocity and are alreadybeyond the orbit of Saturn!     The Colonel said, Ah!     Second, Palomar reports a large number of dark bodies approaching theSolar System at an equally incredible velocity. They are at about twicethe distance of Pluto, but closing in fast! We will be on the air withfurther details as soon as possible.     The Colonel said, Ah-ha!     Theodor stared at him. The old man's self-satisfied poise was almostamusing.     Are you a Kometevskyite? Theodor asked him.     The Colonel laughed. Of course not, my boy. Those poor people arefumbling in the dark. Don't you see what's happened?     Frankly, no.     The Colonel leaned toward Theodor and whispered gruffly, The DivinePlan. God is a military strategist, naturally.     Then he lifted the scotch-and-soda in his clawlike hand and took asatisfying swallow.     I knew it all along, of course, he went on musingly, but this lastnews makes it as plain as a rocket blast, at least to anyone who knowsmilitary strategy. Look here, my boy, suppose you were commanding afleet and got wind of the enemy's approach—what would you do? Why,you'd send your scouts and destroyers fanning out toward them. Behindthat screen you'd mass your heavy ships. Then—     You don't mean to imply— Theodor interrupted.     The girl behind the bar looked at them both cryptically.     Of course I do! the Colonel cut in sharply. It's a war between theforces of good and evil. The bright suns and planets are on one side,the dark on the other. The moons are the destroyers, Jupiter andSaturn are the big battleships, while we're on a heavy cruiser, I'mproud to say. We'll probably go into action soon. Be a corking fight,what? And all by divine strategy!     He chuckled and took another big drink. Theodor looked at him sourly.The girl behind the bar polished a glass and said nothing.  <doc-sep>Young Peter Karson put the last black-print down and sighed withsatisfaction. His dream was perfect; the      Citadel     was complete, everyminutest detail provided for—on paper. In two weeks they would belaying the core, and then the metal giant itself would begin to grow,glittering, pulsing with each increment of power, until at last it layfinished, a living thing.     Then there would remain only the task of blasting the great, shiningship out into the carefully-calculated orbit that would be its home.In his mind's eye he could see it, slowly wheeling, like a secondsatellite, about the Earth; endlessly gathering knowledge into itsinsatiable mechanisms. He could see, too, the level on level oflaboratories and storerooms that filled its interlocking segments; themeteor deflectors, the air renewal system, the mighty engines at thestern—all the children of his brain.     Out there, away from the muffling, distorting, damnable blanket ofatmosphere, away from Earth's inexorable gravitational pull, would bea laboratory such as man had never seen. The ship would be filled withthe sounds of busy men and women, wresting secrets from the reluctantether. A new chemistry, a new physics; perhaps even a new biochemistry.     A discordant note suddenly entered his fantasy. He looked up, consciousof the walls of his office again, but could see nothing unusual. Still,that thin, dark whisper of dread was at the back of his mind. Slowly,as if reluctantly compelled, he turned around to face the window at hisback.     There, outside the window, fifty stories up, a face was staringimpassively in at him. That was the first impression he got; just aface, staring. Then he saw, with a queer, icy chill, that the face wasblood-red and subtly inhuman. It tapered off into a formless, shriveledbody.     For a moment or an eternity it hung there, unsupported, the bulgingeyes staring at him. Then it grew misty at the edges. It dissolvedslowly away and was gone.     Lord! he said.     He stared after it, stunned into immobility. Down in the streetsomewhere, a portable video was shrilling a popular song; after amoment he heard the faint swish of a tube car going past. Everythingwas normal. Nothing, on examination, seemed to have changed. But theworld had grown suddenly unreal.     One part of his brain had been shocked into its shell. It was hidingfrom the thing that had hurt it, and it refused to respond. But theother part was going calmly, lucidly on, quite without his volition.It considered the possibility that he had gone temporarily insane, anddecided that this was probable.     Hardly knowing what he did, he found a cigarette and lit it. His handswere shaking. He stared at them dully, and then he reached over to thenewsbox on his desk, and switched it on.     There were flaring red headlines.     Relief washed over him, leaving him breathless. He was horrified,of course, but only abstractedly. For the moment he could only beglad that what he had seen was terrible reality rather than even moreterrible illusion.     INVADERS APPEAR IN BOSTON.     200 DEAD     Then lines of type, and farther down:     50 CHILDREN DISAPPEAR FROM     PARIS MATERNITY CENTER     He pressed the stud. The roll was full of them.     MOON SHIP DESTROYED     IN TRANSIT     NO COMMUNICATION FROM     ANTARCTICA IN 6 HOURS     STRANGE FORCE DEFLECTS     PLANES FROM SAHARA AREA     WORLD POLICE MOBILIZING     The item below the last one said:     Pacifica, June 7—The World Police are mobilizing, for the first timein fifty years. The order was made public early this morning byR. Stein, Secretary of the Council, who said in part:     The reason for this ... order must be apparent to all civilizedpeoples. For the Invaders have spared no part of this planet in theirdepredations: they have laid Hong Kong waste; they have terrorizedLondon; they have destroyed the lives of citizens in every member stateand in every inhabited area. There can be few within reach of printedreports or my words who have not seen the Invaders, or whose friendshave not seen them.     The peoples of the world, then, know what they are, and know thatwe face the most momentous struggle in our history. We face an enemy      superior to ourselves in every way     .     Since the Invaders first appeared in Wood River, Oregon, 24 hoursago, they have not once acknowledged our attempts to communicate, orin any way taken notice of our existence as reasoning beings. Theyhave treated us precisely as we, in less enlightened days, mighthave treated a newly-discovered race of lower animals. They have notattacked our centers of government, nor immobilized our communications,nor laid siege to our defenses. But in instance after instance, theyhave done as they would with us. They have examined us, dissected us,driven us mad, killed us with no discernable provocation; and this ismore intolerable than any normal invasion.     I have no fear that the people of Earth will fail to meet thischallenge, for there is no alternative. Not only our individual livesare threatened, but our existence as a race. We must, and will, destroythe Invaders!     Peter sank back in his chair, the full shock of it striking him for thefirst time.           Will     we? he asked himself softly.  <doc-sep>At the age of five—perhaps in order to dull the memory of his parents'death in a recent strato-jet crash—he'd spent hours watching the nightsky for streaking flame-tails of Moon rockets. At ten, he'd groundhis first telescope. At fourteen, he'd converted an abandoned shed onthe government boarding-school grounds to a retreat which housed hiscollection of astronomy and rocketry books.     At sixteen, he'd spent every weekend holiday hitchhiking from BoysTown No. 5 in the Catskills to Long Island Spaceport. There, amongthe grizzled veterans of the old Moon Patrol, he'd found friends whounderstood his dream and who later recommended his appointment to theU. S. Academy for the Conquest of Space.     And a month ago, he'd signed aboard the      Odyssey     —the first ship, itwas rumored, equipped to venture as far as the asteroids and perhapsbeyond.     Cobb was persistent: Damn fools shoulda known enough to stay on Earth.What the hell good is it, jumpin' from planet to planet?       The guy's drunk     , Ben thought. He took his drink and moved threestools down the bar.     Cobb followed. You don't like the truth, eh, kid? You don't likepeople to call you a sucker.     Ben rose and started to leave the bar, but Cobb grabbed his arm andheld him there.     Thas what you are—a sucker. You're young now. Wait ten years. You'llbe dyin' of radiation rot or a meteor'll get you. Wait and see, sucker!     Until this instant, Ben had suppressed his anger. Now, suddenly andwithout warning, it welled up into savage fury.     His fist struck the man on the chin. Cobb's eyes gaped in shockedhorror. He spun backward. His head cracked sickeningly on the edge ofthe bar. The sound was like a punctuation mark signaling the end oflife.     He sank to the floor, eyes glassy, blood tricking down his jaw.     Ben knew that he was dead.     Then, for a single absurd second, Ben was seized with terror—just as,a moment before, he'd been overwhelmed with anger.     He ran.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in Raiders of the Second Moon?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the backdrop of the story Raiders of the Second Moon? [SEP] <s>  Raiders of the Second Moon     By GENE ELLERMAN     A strange destiny had erased Noork's memory,     and had brought him to this tiny world—to     write an end to his first existence.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Summer 1945.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Beyond earth swings that airless pocked mass of fused rock and grayvolcanic dust that we know as Luna. Of this our naked eyes assure us.But of the smaller satellite, hidden forever from the mundane view byLuna's bulk, we know little.     Small is Sekk, that second moon, less than five hundred miles indiameter, but the period of its revolution is thirty two hours, and itsmeaner mass retains a breathable atmosphere. There is life on Sekk,life that centers around the sunken star-shaped cavity where an ovallake gleams softly in the depths. And the eleven radiating tips of thestarry abyss are valleys green with jungle growth.     In one of those green valleys the white savage that the Vasads calledNoork squatted in the ample crotch of a jungle giant and watched thetrail forty feet below. For down there moved alertly a golden skinnedgirl, her only weapons a puny polished bow of yellow wood and asheathed dagger.     Sight of the girl's flowing brown hair and the graceful femininecontours of her smooth-limbed body beneath its skin-halter and theinsignificant breech-clout, made his brow wrinkle with concentration.Not forever had he lived in this jungle world of valleys and raggedcliffs. Since he had learned the tongue of the hairy Vasads of forest,and the tongue of their gold-skinned leader, Gurn, the renegade, he hadconfirmed that belief.     For a huge gleaming bird had carried him in its talons to the top ofthe cliff above their valley and from the rock fire had risen to devourthe great bird. Somehow he had been flung clear and escaped the deathof the mysterious bird-thing. And in his delirium he had babbled thewords that caused the apish Vasads to name him Noork. Now he repeatedthem aloud.     New York, he said, good ol' New York.     The girl heard. She looked upward fearfully, her rounded bare arm goingback to the bow slung across her shoulder. Swiftly she fitted an arrowand stepped back against the friendly bole of a shaggy barked junglegiant. Noork grinned.     Tako, woman, he greeted her.     Tako, she replied fearfully. Who speaks to Tholon Sarna? Be youhunter or escaped slave?     A friend, said Noork simply. It was I who killed the spotted      narl     last night when it attacked you.     Doubtfully the girl put away her bow. Her fingers, however, were neverfar from the hilt of her hunting dagger.     Noork swung outward from his perch, and then downward along the ladderof limbs to her side. The girl exclaimed at his brown skin.     Your hair is the color of the sun! she said. Your garb is Vasad, yetyou speak the language of the true men. Her violet oddly slanting eyesopened yet wider. Who are you?     I am Noork, the man told her. For many days have I dwelt among thewild Vasads of the jungle with their golden-skinned chief, Gurn, formy friend.     The girl impulsively took a step nearer. Gurn! she cried. Is he talland strong? Has he a bracelet of golden discs linked together withhuman hair? Does he talk with his own shadow when he thinks?     That is Gurn, admitted Noork shortly. He is also an exile from thewalled city of Grath. The city rulers call him a traitor. He has toldme the reason. Perhaps you know it as well?     Indeed I do, cried Sarna. My brother said that we should no longermake slaves of the captured Zurans from the other valleys.     Noork smiled. I am glad he is your brother, he said simply.  <doc-sep>You don't get to be Precinct Captain on nothing but politicalconnections. Those help, of course, but you need more than that. AsCaptain Hanks was fond of pointing out, you needed as well to be bothmore imaginative than most—You gotta be able to second-guess thesmart boys—and to be a complete realist—You gotta have both feeton the ground. If these were somewhat contradictory qualities, it wasbest not to mention the fact to Captain Hanks.     The realist side of the captain's nature was currently at the fore.Just what are you trying to say, Stevenson? he demanded.     I'm not sure, admitted Stevenson. But we've got these two things.First, there's the getaway car from that bank job. The wheels melt forno reason at all, and somebody burns 'The Scorpion' onto the trunk.Then, yesterday, this guy Higgins out in Canarsie. He says the rifleall of a sudden got too hot to hold, and he's got the burn marks toprove it. And there on the rifle stock it is again. 'The Scorpion'.     He says he put that on there himself, said the captain.     Stevenson shook his head. His      lawyer     says he put it on there.Higgins says he doesn't remember doing it. That's half the lawyer'scase. He's trying to build up an insanity defense.     He put it on there himself, Stevenson, said the captain with wearypatience. What are you trying to prove?     I don't know. All I know is it's the nuttiest thing I ever saw. Andwhat about the getaway car? What about those tires melting?     They were defective, said Hanks promptly.     All four of them at once? And what about the thing written on thetrunk?     How do I know? demanded the captain. Kids put it on before the carwas stolen, maybe. Or maybe the hoods did it themselves, who knows?What do      they     say?     They say they didn't do it, said Stevenson. And they say they neversaw it before the robbery and they would have noticed it if it'd beenthere.     The captain shook his head. I don't get it, he admitted. What areyou trying to prove?     I guess, said Stevenson slowly, thinking it out as he went along, Iguess I'm trying to prove that somebody melted those tires, and madethat rifle too hot, and left his signature behind.     What? You mean like in the comic books? Come on, Stevenson! What areyou trying to hand me?     All I know, insisted Stevenson, is what I see.     And all      I     know, the captain told him, is Higgins put that name onhis rifle himself. He says so.     And what made it so hot?     Hell, man, he'd been firing that thing at people for an hour! What doyou      think     made it hot?     All of a sudden?     He noticed it all of a sudden, when it started to burn him.     How come the same name showed up each time, then? Stevenson askeddesperately.     How should I know? And why not, anyway? You know as well as I do thesethings happen. A bunch of teen-agers burgle a liquor store and theywrite 'The Golden Avengers' on the plate glass in lipstick. It happensall the time. Why not 'The Scorpion'? It couldn't occur to two people?     But there's no explanation— started Stevenson.     What do you mean, there's no explanation? I just      gave     you theexplanation. Look, Stevenson, I'm a busy man. You got a nuttyidea—like Wilcox a few years ago, remember him? Got the idea therewas a fiend around loose, stuffing all those kids into abandonedrefrigerators to starve. He went around trying to prove it, and gettingall upset, and pretty soon they had to put him away in the nut hatch.Remember?     I remember, said Stevenson.     Forget this silly stuff, Stevenson, the captain advised him.     Yes, sir, said Stevenson....     The day after Jerome Higgins went berserk, the afternoon mail brought acrank letter to the      Daily News     :     Dear Mr. Editor,     You did not warn your readers. The man who shot all those people couldnot escape the Scorpion. The Scorpion fights crime. No criminal issafe from the Scorpion. WARN YOUR READERS.     Sincerely yours,     THE SCORPION     Unfortunately, this letter was not read by the same individual who hadseen the first one, two months before. At any rate, it was filed in thesame place, and forgotten.      III     Hallowe'en is a good time for a rumble. There's too many kids aroundfor the cops to keep track of all of them, and if you're picked upcarrying a knife or a length of tire chain or something, why, you're onyour way to a Hallowe'en party and you're in costume. You're going as aJD.     The problem was this schoolyard. It was a block wide, with entranceson two streets. The street on the north was Challenger territory, andthe street on the south was Scarlet Raider territory, and both sidesclaimed the schoolyard. There had been a few skirmishes, a few guysfrom both gangs had been jumped and knocked around a little, but thathad been all. Finally, the War Lords from the two gangs had met, anddetermined that the matter could only be settled in a war.     The time was chosen: Hallowe'en. The place was chosen: the schoolyard.The weapons were chosen: pocket knives and tire chains okay, but nopistols or zip-guns. The time was fixed: eleven P.M. And the winnerwould have undisputed territorial rights to the schoolyard, bothentrances.     The night of the rumble, the gangs assembled in their separateclubrooms for last-minute instructions. Debs were sent out to playchicken at the intersections nearest the schoolyard, both to warn ofthe approach of cops and to keep out any non-combatant kids who mightcome wandering through.     Judy Canzanetti was a Deb with the Scarlet Raiders. She was fifteenyears old, short and black-haired and pretty in a movie-magazine,gum-chewing sort of way. She was proud of being in the Auxiliary of theScarlet Raiders, and proud also of the job that had been assigned toher. She was to stand chicken on the southwest corner of the street.     Judy took up her position at five minutes to eleven. The streets weredark and quiet. Few people cared to walk this neighborhood after dark,particularly on Hallowe'en. Judy leaned her back against the telephonepole on the corner, stuck her hands in the pockets of her ScarletRaider jacket and waited.     At eleven o'clock, she heard indistinct noises begin behind her. Therumble had started.     At five after eleven, a bunch of little kids came wandering down thestreet. They were all about ten or eleven years old, and most of themcarried trick-or-treat shopping bags. Some of them had Hallowe'en maskson.     They started to make the turn toward the schoolyard. Judy said, Hey,you kids. Take off.     One of them, wearing a red mask, turned to look at her. Who, us?     Yes, you! Stay out of that street. Go on down that way.     The subway's this way, objected the kid in the red mask.     Who cares? You go around the other way.  <doc-sep>In the evening a girl brought Maitland his meal. As the door slidaside, he automatically stood up, and they stared at each other forseveral seconds.     She had the high cheekbones and almond eyes of an Oriental, skin thatglowed like gold in the evening light, yet thick coiled braids ofblonde hair that glittered like polished brass. Shorts and a sleevelessblouse of some thick, reddish, metallic-looking fabric clung to herbody, and over that she was wearing a light, ankle-length cloak of whatseemed to be white wool.     She was looking at him with palpable curiosity and something likeexpectancy. Maitland sighed and said, Hello, then glanced downself-consciously at his wrinkled green pajamas.       She smiled, put the tray of food on the table, and swept out, her cloakbillowing behind her. Maitland remained standing, staring at the closeddoor for a minute after she was gone.     Later, when he had finished the steak and corn on the cob and shreddedcarrots, and a feeling of warm well-being was diffusing from hisstomach to his extremities, he sat down on the bed to watch the sunsetand to think.     There were three questions for which he required answers before hecould formulate any plan or policy.     Where was he?     Who was Swarts?     What was the purpose of the tests he was being given?     It was possible, of course, that this was all an elaborate schemefor getting military secrets, despite Swarts' protestations to thecontrary. Maitland frowned. This place certainly didn't have theappearance of a military establishment, and so far there had beennothing to suggest the kind of interrogation to be expected fromforeign intelligence officers.     It might be better to tackle the first question first. He looked atthe Sun, a red spheroid already half below the horizon, and tried tothink of a region that had this kind of terrain. That prairie out therewas unique. Almost anywhere in the world, land like that would becultivated, not allowed to go to grass.     This might be somewhere in Africa....     He shook his head, puzzled. The Sun disappeared and its blood-huedglow began to fade from the sky. Maitland sat there, trying to gethold of the problem from an angle where it wouldn't just slip away.After a while the western sky became a screen of clear luminous blue,a backdrop for a pure white brilliant star. As always at that sight,Maitland felt his worry drain away, leaving an almost mystical sense ofpeace and an undefinable longing.     Venus, the most beautiful of the planets.     Maitland kept track of them all in their majestic paths through theconstellations, but Venus was his favorite. Time and time again hehad watched its steady climb higher and higher in the western sky,its transient rule there as evening star, its progression toward thehorizon, and loved it equally in its      alter ego     of morning star. Venuswas an old friend. An old friend....     Something icy settled on the back of his neck, ran down his spine, anddiffused into his body. He stared at the planet unbelievingly, fistsclenched, forgetting to breathe.     Last night Venus hadn't been there.     Venus was a morning star just now....       Just now!       He realized the truth in that moment.  <doc-sep>  THE GIANTS RETURN     By ROBERT ABERNATHY     Earth set itself grimly to meet them with     corrosive fire, determined to blast them     back to the stars. But they erred in thinking     the Old Ones were too big to be clever.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      In the last hours the star ahead had grown brighter by many magnitudes,and had changed its color from a dazzling blue through white to thenormal yellow, of a GO sun. That was the Doppler effect as the star'sradial velocity changed relative to the      Quest III     , as for forty hoursthe ship had decelerated.     They had seen many such stars come near out of the galaxy's glitteringbackdrop, and had seen them dwindle, turn red and go out as the      QuestIII     drove on its way once more, lashed by despair toward the speed oflight, leaving behind the mockery of yet another solitary and lifelessluminary unaccompanied by worlds where men might dwell. They had grownsated with the sight of wonders—of multiple systems of giant stars, ofnebulae that sprawled in empty flame across light years.     But now unwonted excitement possessed the hundred-odd members of the      Quest III's     crew. It was a subdued excitement; men and women, theycame and stood quietly gazing into the big vision screens that showedthe oncoming star, and there were wide-eyed children who had been bornin the ship and had never seen a planet. The grownups talked in lowvoices, in tones of mingled eagerness and apprehension, of what mightlie at the long journey's end. For the      Quest III     was coming home; thesun ahead was      the     Sun, whose rays had warmed their lives' beginning.  <doc-sep>Theodor recognized the shrunken wrinkle-seamed face. It was ColonelFortescue, a military antique long retired from the Peace Patrol andreputed to have seen actual fighting in the Last Age of Madness. Now,for some reason, the face sported a knowing smile.     Theodor shrugged. Just then the TV big news light blinked blue andthe girl switched on audio. The Colonel winked at Theodor.     ... confirming the disappearance of Jupiter's moons. But two otherutterly fantastic reports have just been received. First, LunarObservatory One says that it is visually tracking fourteen small bodieswhich it believes may be the lost moons of Jupiter. They are movingoutward from the Solar System at an incredible velocity and are alreadybeyond the orbit of Saturn!     The Colonel said, Ah!     Second, Palomar reports a large number of dark bodies approaching theSolar System at an equally incredible velocity. They are at about twicethe distance of Pluto, but closing in fast! We will be on the air withfurther details as soon as possible.     The Colonel said, Ah-ha!     Theodor stared at him. The old man's self-satisfied poise was almostamusing.     Are you a Kometevskyite? Theodor asked him.     The Colonel laughed. Of course not, my boy. Those poor people arefumbling in the dark. Don't you see what's happened?     Frankly, no.     The Colonel leaned toward Theodor and whispered gruffly, The DivinePlan. God is a military strategist, naturally.     Then he lifted the scotch-and-soda in his clawlike hand and took asatisfying swallow.     I knew it all along, of course, he went on musingly, but this lastnews makes it as plain as a rocket blast, at least to anyone who knowsmilitary strategy. Look here, my boy, suppose you were commanding afleet and got wind of the enemy's approach—what would you do? Why,you'd send your scouts and destroyers fanning out toward them. Behindthat screen you'd mass your heavy ships. Then—     You don't mean to imply— Theodor interrupted.     The girl behind the bar looked at them both cryptically.     Of course I do! the Colonel cut in sharply. It's a war between theforces of good and evil. The bright suns and planets are on one side,the dark on the other. The moons are the destroyers, Jupiter andSaturn are the big battleships, while we're on a heavy cruiser, I'mproud to say. We'll probably go into action soon. Be a corking fight,what? And all by divine strategy!     He chuckled and took another big drink. Theodor looked at him sourly.The girl behind the bar polished a glass and said nothing.  <doc-sep>At the age of five—perhaps in order to dull the memory of his parents'death in a recent strato-jet crash—he'd spent hours watching the nightsky for streaking flame-tails of Moon rockets. At ten, he'd groundhis first telescope. At fourteen, he'd converted an abandoned shed onthe government boarding-school grounds to a retreat which housed hiscollection of astronomy and rocketry books.     At sixteen, he'd spent every weekend holiday hitchhiking from BoysTown No. 5 in the Catskills to Long Island Spaceport. There, amongthe grizzled veterans of the old Moon Patrol, he'd found friends whounderstood his dream and who later recommended his appointment to theU. S. Academy for the Conquest of Space.     And a month ago, he'd signed aboard the      Odyssey     —the first ship, itwas rumored, equipped to venture as far as the asteroids and perhapsbeyond.     Cobb was persistent: Damn fools shoulda known enough to stay on Earth.What the hell good is it, jumpin' from planet to planet?       The guy's drunk     , Ben thought. He took his drink and moved threestools down the bar.     Cobb followed. You don't like the truth, eh, kid? You don't likepeople to call you a sucker.     Ben rose and started to leave the bar, but Cobb grabbed his arm andheld him there.     Thas what you are—a sucker. You're young now. Wait ten years. You'llbe dyin' of radiation rot or a meteor'll get you. Wait and see, sucker!     Until this instant, Ben had suppressed his anger. Now, suddenly andwithout warning, it welled up into savage fury.     His fist struck the man on the chin. Cobb's eyes gaped in shockedhorror. He spun backward. His head cracked sickeningly on the edge ofthe bar. The sound was like a punctuation mark signaling the end oflife.     He sank to the floor, eyes glassy, blood tricking down his jaw.     Ben knew that he was dead.     Then, for a single absurd second, Ben was seized with terror—just as,a moment before, he'd been overwhelmed with anger.     He ran.  <doc-sep>  She had gone  coldly rigid inhis arms, unyielding.     Madness added to the poundingin his brain. Tears welled into hiseyes.     I'll show you! I'll kill her! ThenI'll have money! The handsclutching her shoulders shook herdrunkenly. You wait here! I'll gohome and kill her now! Then I'llbe back!     Silly boy! Her low laughterrang hollowly in his ears. And justwho is it you are going to kill?     My wife! he cried. My wife!I'll ...     A sudden sobering thoughtstruck him. He was talking toomuch. And he wasn't making sense.He shouldn't be telling her this.Anyway, he couldn't get the moneytonight even if he did kill his wife.     And so you are going to killyour wife....     He blinked the tears from hiseyes. His chest was heaving, hisheart pounding. He looked at hershimmering form. Y-yes, he whispered.     Her eyes glinted strangely in thelight of the moon. Her handbagglinted as she opened it, and somethingshe took from it glitteredcoldly in her hand.     Fool!     The first shot tore squarelythrough his heart. And while hestood staring at her, mouth agape,a second shot burned its waythrough his bewildered brain.   <doc-sep>When Annabella C. Flowers, that renowned writer of science fiction,visiphoned me at Crater City, Mars, to meet her here, I had thought shewas crazy. But Miss Flowers, known to her friends as Grannie Annie,had always been mildly crazy. If you haven't read her books, you'vemissed something. She's the author of      Lady of the Green Flames     ,      Lady of the Runaway Planet     ,      Lady of the Crimson Space-Beast     , andother works of science fiction. Blood-and-thunder as these books are,however, they have one redeeming feature—authenticity of background.Grannie Annie was the original research digger-upper, and when shelaid the setting of a yarn on a star of the sixth magnitude, only atransportation-velocity of less than light could prevent her fromvisiting her stage in person.     Therefore when she asked me to meet her at the landing field of      Interstellar Voice     on Jupiter's Eighth Moon, I knew she had anothernovel in the state of embryo.     What I didn't expect was Ezra Karn. He was an old prospector Granniehad met, and he had become so attached to the authoress he now followedher wherever she went. As for Xartal, he was a Martian and was slatedto do the illustrations for Grannie's new book.     Five minutes after my ship had blasted down, the four of us met in theoffices of      Interstellar Voice     . And then I was shaking hands withAntlers Park, the manager of I. V. himself.     Glad to meet you, he said cordially. I've just been trying topersuade Miss Flowers not to attempt a trip into the Baldric.     What's the Baldric? I had asked.     Antlers Park flicked the ash from his cheroot and shrugged.     Will you believe me, sir, he said, when I tell you I've been outhere on this forsaken moon five years and don't rightly know myself?     I scowled at that; it didn't make sense.     However, as you perhaps know, the only reason for colonial activitieshere at all is because of the presence of an ore known as Acoustix.It's no use to the people of Earth but of untold value on Mars. I'mnot up on the scientific reasons, but it seems that life on the redplanet has developed with a supersonic method of vocal communication.The Martian speaks as the Earthman does, but he amplifies his thoughts'transmission by way of wave lengths as high as three million vibrationsper second. The trouble is that by the time the average Martian reachesmiddle age, his ability to produce those vibrations steadily decreases.Then it was found that this ore, Acoustix, revitalized their soundingapparatus, and the rush was on.     What do you mean?     Park leaned back. The rush to find more of the ore, he explained.But up until now this moon is the only place where it can be found.     There are two companies here, he continued,       Interstellar Voice     and      Larynx Incorporated     . Chap by the name of Jimmy Baker runs that.However, the point is, between the properties of these two companiesstretches a band or belt which has become known as the Baldric.     There are two principal forms of life in the Baldric; flagpole treesand a species of ornithoid resembling cockatoos. So far no one hascrossed the Baldric without trouble.     What sort of trouble? Grannie Annie had demanded. And when AntlersPark stuttered evasively, the old lady snorted, Fiddlesticks, I neversaw trouble yet that couldn't be explained. We leave in an hour.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the backdrop of the story Raiders of the Second Moon?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What part does Gurn play in Raiders of the Second Moon? [SEP] <s>  Raiders of the Second Moon     By GENE ELLERMAN     A strange destiny had erased Noork's memory,     and had brought him to this tiny world—to     write an end to his first existence.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Summer 1945.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Beyond earth swings that airless pocked mass of fused rock and grayvolcanic dust that we know as Luna. Of this our naked eyes assure us.But of the smaller satellite, hidden forever from the mundane view byLuna's bulk, we know little.     Small is Sekk, that second moon, less than five hundred miles indiameter, but the period of its revolution is thirty two hours, and itsmeaner mass retains a breathable atmosphere. There is life on Sekk,life that centers around the sunken star-shaped cavity where an ovallake gleams softly in the depths. And the eleven radiating tips of thestarry abyss are valleys green with jungle growth.     In one of those green valleys the white savage that the Vasads calledNoork squatted in the ample crotch of a jungle giant and watched thetrail forty feet below. For down there moved alertly a golden skinnedgirl, her only weapons a puny polished bow of yellow wood and asheathed dagger.     Sight of the girl's flowing brown hair and the graceful femininecontours of her smooth-limbed body beneath its skin-halter and theinsignificant breech-clout, made his brow wrinkle with concentration.Not forever had he lived in this jungle world of valleys and raggedcliffs. Since he had learned the tongue of the hairy Vasads of forest,and the tongue of their gold-skinned leader, Gurn, the renegade, he hadconfirmed that belief.     For a huge gleaming bird had carried him in its talons to the top ofthe cliff above their valley and from the rock fire had risen to devourthe great bird. Somehow he had been flung clear and escaped the deathof the mysterious bird-thing. And in his delirium he had babbled thewords that caused the apish Vasads to name him Noork. Now he repeatedthem aloud.     New York, he said, good ol' New York.     The girl heard. She looked upward fearfully, her rounded bare arm goingback to the bow slung across her shoulder. Swiftly she fitted an arrowand stepped back against the friendly bole of a shaggy barked junglegiant. Noork grinned.     Tako, woman, he greeted her.     Tako, she replied fearfully. Who speaks to Tholon Sarna? Be youhunter or escaped slave?     A friend, said Noork simply. It was I who killed the spotted      narl     last night when it attacked you.     Doubtfully the girl put away her bow. Her fingers, however, were neverfar from the hilt of her hunting dagger.     Noork swung outward from his perch, and then downward along the ladderof limbs to her side. The girl exclaimed at his brown skin.     Your hair is the color of the sun! she said. Your garb is Vasad, yetyou speak the language of the true men. Her violet oddly slanting eyesopened yet wider. Who are you?     I am Noork, the man told her. For many days have I dwelt among thewild Vasads of the jungle with their golden-skinned chief, Gurn, formy friend.     The girl impulsively took a step nearer. Gurn! she cried. Is he talland strong? Has he a bracelet of golden discs linked together withhuman hair? Does he talk with his own shadow when he thinks?     That is Gurn, admitted Noork shortly. He is also an exile from thewalled city of Grath. The city rulers call him a traitor. He has toldme the reason. Perhaps you know it as well?     Indeed I do, cried Sarna. My brother said that we should no longermake slaves of the captured Zurans from the other valleys.     Noork smiled. I am glad he is your brother, he said simply.  <doc-sep>Ud tasted the scent of a man and sluggishly rolled his bullet head fromshoulder to shoulder as he tried to catch sight of his ages-old enemy.For between the hairy quarter-ton beast men of the jungles of Sekk andthe golden men of the valley cities who enslaved them there was eternalwar.     A growl rumbled deep in the hairy half-man's chest. He could see noenemy and yet the scent grew stronger with every breath.     You hunt too near the lake, called a voice. The demons of the waterwill trap you.     Ud's great nostrils quivered. He tasted the odor of a friend mingledwith that of a strange Zuran. He squatted.     It's Noork, he grunted. Why do I not see you?     I have stolen the skin of a demon, answered the invisible man. Go toGurn. Tell him to fear the demons no longer. Tell him the Misty Onescan be trapped and skinned.     Why you want their skins? Ud scratched his hairy gray skull.     Go to save Gurn's ... and here Noork was stumped for words. To savehis father's woman woman, he managed at last. Father's woman womancalled Sarna.     And the misty blob of nothingness was gone again, its goal now themarshy lowlands that extended upward perhaps a thousand feet from thejungle's ragged fringe to end at last in the muddy shallows of the Lakeof Uzdon.     To Noork it seemed that all the world must be like these savage junglefastnesses of the twelve valleys and their central lake. He knew thatthe giant bird had carried him from some other place that his batteredbrain could not remember, but to him it seemed incredible that mencould live elsewhere than in a jungle valley.     But Noork was wrong. The giant bird that he had ridden into the depthsof Sekk's fertile valleys had come from a far different world. And theother bird, for which Noork had been searching when he came upon thegolden-skinned girl, was from another world also.     The other bird had come from space several days before that of Noork,the Vasads had told him, and it had landed somewhere within the landof sunken valleys. Perhaps, thought Noork, the bird had come from thesame valley that had once been his home. He would find the bird andperhaps then he could remember better who he had been.     So it was, ironically enough, that Stephen Dietrich—whose memory wasgone completely—again took up the trail of Doctor Karl Von Mark, lastof the Axis criminals at large. The trail that had led the red-hairedyoung American flier from rebuilding Greece into Africa and the hiddenvalley where Doctor Von Mark worked feverishly to restore the crumbledstructure of Nazidom, and then had sent him hurtling spaceward in thesecond of the Doctor's crude space-ships was now drawing to an end.The Doctor and the young American pilot were both trapped here on thislittle blob of cosmic matter that hides beyond the Moon's cratered bulk.     The Doctor's ship had landed safely on Sekk, the wily scientistpreferring the lesser gravity of this fertile world to that of thelifeless Moon in the event that he returned again to Earth, butDietrich's spacer had crashed.     Two words linked Noork with the past, the two words that the Vasadshad slurred into his name: New York. And the battered wrist watch, itscrystal and hands gone, were all that remained of his Earthly garb.  <doc-sep>A fat, square-jawed face, harsh lines paralleling the ugly blob of anose, showed through the opened robe of the leader. The face was thatof Doctor Von Mark the treacherous Nazi scientist that Stephen Dietrichhad trailed across space to Sekk! But Noork knew nothing of that chase.The man's face seemed familiar, and hateful, but that was all heremembered.     I see you have come from the island, said the Doctor. Perhaps youcan tell me the secret of this invisible material I wear. With thesecret of invisibility I, Karl Von Mark, can again conquer Earth andmake the Fatherland invincible.     I do not understand too well, said Noork hesitantly. Are we enemies?There is so much I have forgotten. He regarded the brutal facethoughtfully.     Perhaps you know from what valley the great bird brought me, he said.Or perhaps the other bird brought you here.     Von Mark's blue eyes widened and then he roared with a great noisethat was intended to be mirth. His foot slammed harder into Noork'sdefenseless ribs.     Perhaps you have forgotten, swine of an American, he roared suddenly,and in his hand was an ugly looking automatic. He flung back his robeand Noork saw the dress uniform of a general. Perhaps, the scientistrepeated, but I will take no chances. The amnesia is often but apretense.     His lip curled. This is something for you to remember, CaptainDietrich, he said as the ugly black muzzle of the gun centered onNoork's bronzed chest.     And then Doctor Von Mark cursed as the gun dropped from his nervelessfingers and his hands clawed weakly at the arrow buried in his widebelly. He stumbled backward.     Arrows rained from the mistiness that had closed in about Von Mark andhis men. The men from Wari, their faces unshielded, fell like flies.In a moment those yet alive had taken to their heels, and Noork feltinvisible fingers tearing at the nets that bound him.     As he rose to his feet the robed figure let its misty covering dropaside. A handsome golden-skinned warrior stood revealed.     Gurn! cried Noork.     A glad cry came from the throat of Tholon Sarna as she saw her brother.And then she crept closer to Noork's side as the invisible mantlesof Gurn's loyal Vasads opened to reveal the hairy beast men theyconcealed. Rold whimpered fearfully.     The message that Ud carried to me was good, laughed Gurn. The MistyOnes skin easily. We were trapping the Misty Ones as they came acrossthe lake, he looked at the dying Von Mark, as were these others. Soonwe would have come to your rescue, Noork, my friend.     Lucky I escaped first, Noork told him. The priests of Uzdon wouldhave trapped you. To them the Misty Ones are visible.     He picked up the fallen vision shield that lay beside their feet. Hischest expanded proudly.     No longer, he told Gurn, am I a man without a name. I am CaptainDietrich from a distant valley called America. I was hunting this evilman when my bird died.     He smiled and his brown arm tightened around Sarna's golden body. Theevil man is dead. My native valley is safe. Now I can live in peacewith you, Gurn, and with your sister, here in the jungle.     It is good, Noork, smiled Tholon Sarna.   <doc-sep>You don't get to be Precinct Captain on nothing but politicalconnections. Those help, of course, but you need more than that. AsCaptain Hanks was fond of pointing out, you needed as well to be bothmore imaginative than most—You gotta be able to second-guess thesmart boys—and to be a complete realist—You gotta have both feeton the ground. If these were somewhat contradictory qualities, it wasbest not to mention the fact to Captain Hanks.     The realist side of the captain's nature was currently at the fore.Just what are you trying to say, Stevenson? he demanded.     I'm not sure, admitted Stevenson. But we've got these two things.First, there's the getaway car from that bank job. The wheels melt forno reason at all, and somebody burns 'The Scorpion' onto the trunk.Then, yesterday, this guy Higgins out in Canarsie. He says the rifleall of a sudden got too hot to hold, and he's got the burn marks toprove it. And there on the rifle stock it is again. 'The Scorpion'.     He says he put that on there himself, said the captain.     Stevenson shook his head. His      lawyer     says he put it on there.Higgins says he doesn't remember doing it. That's half the lawyer'scase. He's trying to build up an insanity defense.     He put it on there himself, Stevenson, said the captain with wearypatience. What are you trying to prove?     I don't know. All I know is it's the nuttiest thing I ever saw. Andwhat about the getaway car? What about those tires melting?     They were defective, said Hanks promptly.     All four of them at once? And what about the thing written on thetrunk?     How do I know? demanded the captain. Kids put it on before the carwas stolen, maybe. Or maybe the hoods did it themselves, who knows?What do      they     say?     They say they didn't do it, said Stevenson. And they say they neversaw it before the robbery and they would have noticed it if it'd beenthere.     The captain shook his head. I don't get it, he admitted. What areyou trying to prove?     I guess, said Stevenson slowly, thinking it out as he went along, Iguess I'm trying to prove that somebody melted those tires, and madethat rifle too hot, and left his signature behind.     What? You mean like in the comic books? Come on, Stevenson! What areyou trying to hand me?     All I know, insisted Stevenson, is what I see.     And all      I     know, the captain told him, is Higgins put that name onhis rifle himself. He says so.     And what made it so hot?     Hell, man, he'd been firing that thing at people for an hour! What doyou      think     made it hot?     All of a sudden?     He noticed it all of a sudden, when it started to burn him.     How come the same name showed up each time, then? Stevenson askeddesperately.     How should I know? And why not, anyway? You know as well as I do thesethings happen. A bunch of teen-agers burgle a liquor store and theywrite 'The Golden Avengers' on the plate glass in lipstick. It happensall the time. Why not 'The Scorpion'? It couldn't occur to two people?     But there's no explanation— started Stevenson.     What do you mean, there's no explanation? I just      gave     you theexplanation. Look, Stevenson, I'm a busy man. You got a nuttyidea—like Wilcox a few years ago, remember him? Got the idea therewas a fiend around loose, stuffing all those kids into abandonedrefrigerators to starve. He went around trying to prove it, and gettingall upset, and pretty soon they had to put him away in the nut hatch.Remember?     I remember, said Stevenson.     Forget this silly stuff, Stevenson, the captain advised him.     Yes, sir, said Stevenson....     The day after Jerome Higgins went berserk, the afternoon mail brought acrank letter to the      Daily News     :     Dear Mr. Editor,     You did not warn your readers. The man who shot all those people couldnot escape the Scorpion. The Scorpion fights crime. No criminal issafe from the Scorpion. WARN YOUR READERS.     Sincerely yours,     THE SCORPION     Unfortunately, this letter was not read by the same individual who hadseen the first one, two months before. At any rate, it was filed in thesame place, and forgotten.      III     Hallowe'en is a good time for a rumble. There's too many kids aroundfor the cops to keep track of all of them, and if you're picked upcarrying a knife or a length of tire chain or something, why, you're onyour way to a Hallowe'en party and you're in costume. You're going as aJD.     The problem was this schoolyard. It was a block wide, with entranceson two streets. The street on the north was Challenger territory, andthe street on the south was Scarlet Raider territory, and both sidesclaimed the schoolyard. There had been a few skirmishes, a few guysfrom both gangs had been jumped and knocked around a little, but thathad been all. Finally, the War Lords from the two gangs had met, anddetermined that the matter could only be settled in a war.     The time was chosen: Hallowe'en. The place was chosen: the schoolyard.The weapons were chosen: pocket knives and tire chains okay, but nopistols or zip-guns. The time was fixed: eleven P.M. And the winnerwould have undisputed territorial rights to the schoolyard, bothentrances.     The night of the rumble, the gangs assembled in their separateclubrooms for last-minute instructions. Debs were sent out to playchicken at the intersections nearest the schoolyard, both to warn ofthe approach of cops and to keep out any non-combatant kids who mightcome wandering through.     Judy Canzanetti was a Deb with the Scarlet Raiders. She was fifteenyears old, short and black-haired and pretty in a movie-magazine,gum-chewing sort of way. She was proud of being in the Auxiliary of theScarlet Raiders, and proud also of the job that had been assigned toher. She was to stand chicken on the southwest corner of the street.     Judy took up her position at five minutes to eleven. The streets weredark and quiet. Few people cared to walk this neighborhood after dark,particularly on Hallowe'en. Judy leaned her back against the telephonepole on the corner, stuck her hands in the pockets of her ScarletRaider jacket and waited.     At eleven o'clock, she heard indistinct noises begin behind her. Therumble had started.     At five after eleven, a bunch of little kids came wandering down thestreet. They were all about ten or eleven years old, and most of themcarried trick-or-treat shopping bags. Some of them had Hallowe'en maskson.     They started to make the turn toward the schoolyard. Judy said, Hey,you kids. Take off.     One of them, wearing a red mask, turned to look at her. Who, us?     Yes, you! Stay out of that street. Go on down that way.     The subway's this way, objected the kid in the red mask.     Who cares? You go around the other way.  <doc-sep>It was Queazy who got into his space-suit and did the welding job,fastening two huge supra-steel eyes onto the dumbbell-shaped ship'snarrow midsection. Into these eyes cables which trailed back totwo winches in the big ship's nose were inserted, welded fast, andreinforced.     The nose of the hauler was blunt, perfectly fitted for the job. BobParker practiced and experimented for three hours with this yo-yo ofcosmic dimensions, while Starre and Queazy stood over him bursting intostrange, delighted squeals of laughter whenever the yo-yo reached theend of its double cable and started rolling back up to the ship. Queazysnapped his fingers.     It'll work! His gray eyes showed satisfaction. Now, if only theSaylor brothers are where we calculated!     They weren't where Bob and Queazy had calculated, as they haddiscovered the next day. They had expected to pick up the asteroidon their mass-detectors a few hundred thousand miles outside of theMoon's orbit. But now they saw the giant ship attached like a leech tothe still bigger asteroid—inside the Moon's orbit! A mere two hundredthousand miles from Earth!     We have to work fast, Bob stammered, sweating. He got withinnaked-eye distance of the Saylor brothers' ship. Below, Earth wasspread out, a huge crescent shape, part of the Eastern hemispherevaguely visible through impeding clouds and atmosphere. The enemy shipwas two miles distant, a black shadow occulting part of the brilliantsky. It was moving along a down-spiraling path toward Earth.     Queazy's big hand gripped his shoulder. Go to it, Bob!     Bob nodded grimly. He backed the hauler up about thirty miles, thensent it forward again, directly toward the Saylor brothers' ship at tenmiles per second. And resting on the blunt nose of the ship was theyo-yo.     There was little doubt the Saylors' saw their approach. But,scornfully, they made no attempt to evade. There was no possible harmthe oncoming ship could wreak. Or at least that was what they thought,for Bob brought the hauler's speed down to zero—and Starre Lowenthal'slittle ship, possessing its own inertia, kept on moving!     It spun away from the hauler's blunt nose, paying out two rigidlengths of cable behind it as it unwound, hurled itself forward like afantastic spinning cannon ball.     It's going to hit!     The excited cry came from Starre. But Bob swore. The dumbbell shipreached the end of its cables, falling a bare twenty feet short ofcompleting its mission. It didn't stop spinning, but came winding backup the cable, at the same terrific speed with which it had left.  <doc-sep>II     Si Pond was a great believer in the institution of the spree. Anyexcuse would do. Back when he had finished basic education at the ageof twenty-five and was registered for the labor draft, there hadn'tbeen a chance in a hundred that he'd have the bad luck to have hisname pulled. But when it had been, Si had celebrated.     When he had been informed that his physical and mental qualificationswere such that he was eligible for the most dangerous occupation inthe Ultrawelfare State and had been pressured into taking trainingfor space pilot, he had celebrated once again. Twenty-two others hadtaken the training with him, and only he and Rod Cameroon had passedthe finals. On this occasion, he and Rod had celebrated together. Ithad been quite a party. Two weeks later, Rod had burned on a faultytake-off on what should have been a routine Moon run.     Each time Si returned from one of his own runs, he celebrated. A spree,a bust, a bat, a wing-ding, a night on the town. A commemoration ofdangers met and passed.     Now it was all over. At the age of thirty he was retired. Law preventedhim from ever being called up for contributing to the country's laborneeds again. And he most certainly wasn't going to volunteer.     He had taken his schooling much as had his contemporaries. There wasn'tany particular reason for trying to excell. You didn't want to get thereputation for being a wise guy, or a cloddy either. Just one of thefellas. You could do the same in life whether you really studied ornot. You had your Inalienable Basic stock, didn't you? What else didyou need?     It had come as a surprise when he'd been drafted for the labor force.     In the early days of the Ultrawelfare State, they had made a mistakein adapting to the automation of the second industrial revolution.They had attempted to give everyone work by reducing the number ofworking hours in the day, and the number of working days in the week.It finally became ludicrous when employees of industry were workingbut two days a week, two hours a day. In fact, it got chaotic. Itbecame obvious that it was more practical to have one worker putting inthirty-five hours a week and getting to know his job well, than it wasto have a score of employees, each working a few hours a week and noneof them ever really becoming efficient.     The only fair thing was to let the technologically unemployed remainunemployed, with their Inalienable Basic stock as the equivalent ofunemployment insurance, while the few workers still needed put in areasonable number of hours a day, a reasonable number of weeks a yearand a reasonable number of years in a life time. When new employeeswere needed, a draft lottery was held.     All persons registered in the labor force participated. If youwere drawn, you must need serve. The dissatisfaction those chosenmight feel at their poor luck was offset by the fact that they weregranted additional Variable Basic shares, according to the tasksthey fulfilled. Such shares could be added to their portfolios, thedividends becoming part of their current credit balance, or could besold for a lump sum on the market.     Yes, but now it was all over. He had his own little place, his ownvacuum-tube vehicle and twice the amount of shares of Basic that mostof his fellow citizens could boast. Si Pond had it made. A spree wasobviously called for.     He was going to do this one right. This was the big one. He'daccumulated a lot of dollars these past few months and he intendedto blow them, or at least a sizeable number of them. His credit cardwas burning a hole in his pocket, as the expression went. However, hewasn't going to rush into things. This had to be done correctly.     Too many a spree was played by ear. You started off with a few drinks,fell in with some second rate mopsy and usually wound up in a thirdrate groggery where you spent just as much as though you'd been in theclassiest joint in town. Came morning and you had nothing to show forall the dollars that had been spent but a rum-head.     Thus, Si was vaguely aware, it had always been down through thecenturies since the Phoenecian sailor, back from his year-long trip tothe tin mines of Cornwall, blew his hard earned share of the voyage'sprofits in a matter of days in the wine shops of Tyre. Nobody getsquite so little for his money as that loneliest of all workers, he whomust leave his home for distant lands, returning only periodically andusually with the salary of lengthy, weary periods of time to be spenthurriedly in an attempt to achieve the pleasure and happiness so longdenied him.     Si was going to do it differently this time.     Nothing but the best. Wine, women, song, food, entertainment. Theworks. But nothing but the best.  <doc-sep>Captain Hanks was still in his realistic cycle this morning, and he wasimpatient as well. All right, Stevenson, he said. Make it fast, I'vegot a lot to do this morning. And I hope it isn't this comic-book thingof yours again.     I'm afraid it is, Captain, said Stevenson. Did you see the morningpaper?     So what?     Did you see that thing about the gang fight up in Manhattan?     Captain Hanks sighed. Stevenson, he said wearily, are you going totry to connect every single time the word 'scorpion' comes up? What'sthe problem with this one? These kid gangs have names, so what?     Neither one of them was called 'The Scorpions,' Stevenson toldhim. One of them was the Scarlet Raiders and the other gang was theChallengers.     So they changed their name, said Hanks.     Both gangs? Simultaneously? To the same name?     Why not? Maybe that's what they were fighting over.     It was a territorial war, Stevenson reminded him. They've admittedthat much. It says so in the paper. And it also says they all deny everseeing that word on their jackets until after the fight.     A bunch of juvenile delinquents, said Hanks in disgust. You taketheir word?     Captain, did you read the article in the paper?     I glanced through it.     All right. Here's what they say happened: They say they startedfighting at eleven o'clock. And they just got going when all at onceall the metal they were carrying—knives and tire chains and coins andbelt buckles and everything else—got freezing cold, too cold to touch.And then their leather jackets got freezing cold, so cold they had topull them off and throw them away. And when the jackets were latercollected, across the name of the gang on the back of each one had beenbranded 'The Scorpion.'     Now, let      me     tell      you     something, said Hanks severely. They heardthe police sirens, and they threw all their weapons away. Then theythrew their jackets away, to try to make believe they hadn't beenpart of the gang that had been fighting. But they were caught beforethey could get out of the schoolyard. If the squad cars had showedup a minute later, the schoolyard wouldn't have had anything in itbut weapons and jackets, and the kids would have been all over theneighborhood, nice as you please, minding their own business and notbothering anybody.      That's     what happened. And all this talk aboutfreezing cold and branding names into jackets is just some smart-alecpunk's idea of a way to razz the police. Now, you just go back toworrying about what's happening in this precinct and forget about kidgangs up in Manhattan and comic book things like the Scorpion, oryou're going to wind up like Wilcox, with that refrigerator business.Now, I don't want to hear any more about this nonsense, Stevenson.     Yes, sir, said Stevenson.  <doc-sep>Fownes stopped on the porch to brush the plaster of paris off hisshoes. He hadn't seen the patrol car and this intense preoccupationof his was also responsible for the dancing house—he simply hadn'tnoticed. There was a certain amount of vibration, of course. Hehad a bootleg pipe connected into the dome blower system, and thehigh-pressure air caused some buffeting against the thin walls of thehouse. At least, he called it buffeting; he'd never thought to watchfrom outside.     He went in and threw his jacket on the sofa, there being no roomleft in the closets. Crossing the living room he stopped to twist adraw-pull.     Every window slammed shut.     Tight as a kite, he thought, satisfied. He continued on toward thecloset at the foot of the stairs and then stopped again. Was thatright? No,      snug as a hug in a rug     . He went on, thinking:      The olddevils.       The downstairs closet was like a great watch case, a profusion ofwheels surrounding the Master Mechanism, which was a miniature see-sawthat went back and forth 365-1/4 times an hour. The wheels had acurious stateliness about them. They were all quite old, salvaged fromgrandfather's clocks and music boxes and they went around in gracefulcircles at the rate of 30 and 31 times an hour ... although therewas one slightly eccentric cam that vacillated between 28 and 29. Hewatched as they spun and flashed in the darkness, and then set them forseven o'clock in the evening, April seventh, any year.     Outside, the domed city vanished.     It was replaced by an illusion. Or, as Fownes hoped it might appear,the illusion of the domed city vanished and was replaced by a moresatisfactory, and, for his specific purpose, more functional, illusion.Looking through the window he saw only a garden.     Instead of an orange sun at perpetual high noon, there was a red sunsetting brilliantly, marred only by an occasional arcover which leftthe smell of ozone in the air. There was also a gigantic moon. It hid ahuge area of sky, and it sang. The sun and moon both looked down upon agarden that was itself scintillant, composed largely of neon roses.     Moonlight, he thought, and roses. Satisfactory.      And cocktails fortwo.     Blast, he'd never be able to figure that one out! He watched asthe moon played,      Oh, You Beautiful Doll     and the neon roses flashedslowly from red to violet, then went back to the closet and turned onthe scent. The house began to smell like an immensely concentrated roseas the moon shifted to      People Will Say We're In Love     .  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What part does Gurn play in Raiders of the Second Moon?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What role does enslavement play in Raiders of the Second Moon? [SEP] <s>Ud tasted the scent of a man and sluggishly rolled his bullet head fromshoulder to shoulder as he tried to catch sight of his ages-old enemy.For between the hairy quarter-ton beast men of the jungles of Sekk andthe golden men of the valley cities who enslaved them there was eternalwar.     A growl rumbled deep in the hairy half-man's chest. He could see noenemy and yet the scent grew stronger with every breath.     You hunt too near the lake, called a voice. The demons of the waterwill trap you.     Ud's great nostrils quivered. He tasted the odor of a friend mingledwith that of a strange Zuran. He squatted.     It's Noork, he grunted. Why do I not see you?     I have stolen the skin of a demon, answered the invisible man. Go toGurn. Tell him to fear the demons no longer. Tell him the Misty Onescan be trapped and skinned.     Why you want their skins? Ud scratched his hairy gray skull.     Go to save Gurn's ... and here Noork was stumped for words. To savehis father's woman woman, he managed at last. Father's woman womancalled Sarna.     And the misty blob of nothingness was gone again, its goal now themarshy lowlands that extended upward perhaps a thousand feet from thejungle's ragged fringe to end at last in the muddy shallows of the Lakeof Uzdon.     To Noork it seemed that all the world must be like these savage junglefastnesses of the twelve valleys and their central lake. He knew thatthe giant bird had carried him from some other place that his batteredbrain could not remember, but to him it seemed incredible that mencould live elsewhere than in a jungle valley.     But Noork was wrong. The giant bird that he had ridden into the depthsof Sekk's fertile valleys had come from a far different world. And theother bird, for which Noork had been searching when he came upon thegolden-skinned girl, was from another world also.     The other bird had come from space several days before that of Noork,the Vasads had told him, and it had landed somewhere within the landof sunken valleys. Perhaps, thought Noork, the bird had come from thesame valley that had once been his home. He would find the bird andperhaps then he could remember better who he had been.     So it was, ironically enough, that Stephen Dietrich—whose memory wasgone completely—again took up the trail of Doctor Karl Von Mark, lastof the Axis criminals at large. The trail that had led the red-hairedyoung American flier from rebuilding Greece into Africa and the hiddenvalley where Doctor Von Mark worked feverishly to restore the crumbledstructure of Nazidom, and then had sent him hurtling spaceward in thesecond of the Doctor's crude space-ships was now drawing to an end.The Doctor and the young American pilot were both trapped here on thislittle blob of cosmic matter that hides beyond the Moon's cratered bulk.     The Doctor's ship had landed safely on Sekk, the wily scientistpreferring the lesser gravity of this fertile world to that of thelifeless Moon in the event that he returned again to Earth, butDietrich's spacer had crashed.     Two words linked Noork with the past, the two words that the Vasadshad slurred into his name: New York. And the battered wrist watch, itscrystal and hands gone, were all that remained of his Earthly garb.  <doc-sep>  Raiders of the Second Moon     By GENE ELLERMAN     A strange destiny had erased Noork's memory,     and had brought him to this tiny world—to     write an end to his first existence.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Summer 1945.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Beyond earth swings that airless pocked mass of fused rock and grayvolcanic dust that we know as Luna. Of this our naked eyes assure us.But of the smaller satellite, hidden forever from the mundane view byLuna's bulk, we know little.     Small is Sekk, that second moon, less than five hundred miles indiameter, but the period of its revolution is thirty two hours, and itsmeaner mass retains a breathable atmosphere. There is life on Sekk,life that centers around the sunken star-shaped cavity where an ovallake gleams softly in the depths. And the eleven radiating tips of thestarry abyss are valleys green with jungle growth.     In one of those green valleys the white savage that the Vasads calledNoork squatted in the ample crotch of a jungle giant and watched thetrail forty feet below. For down there moved alertly a golden skinnedgirl, her only weapons a puny polished bow of yellow wood and asheathed dagger.     Sight of the girl's flowing brown hair and the graceful femininecontours of her smooth-limbed body beneath its skin-halter and theinsignificant breech-clout, made his brow wrinkle with concentration.Not forever had he lived in this jungle world of valleys and raggedcliffs. Since he had learned the tongue of the hairy Vasads of forest,and the tongue of their gold-skinned leader, Gurn, the renegade, he hadconfirmed that belief.     For a huge gleaming bird had carried him in its talons to the top ofthe cliff above their valley and from the rock fire had risen to devourthe great bird. Somehow he had been flung clear and escaped the deathof the mysterious bird-thing. And in his delirium he had babbled thewords that caused the apish Vasads to name him Noork. Now he repeatedthem aloud.     New York, he said, good ol' New York.     The girl heard. She looked upward fearfully, her rounded bare arm goingback to the bow slung across her shoulder. Swiftly she fitted an arrowand stepped back against the friendly bole of a shaggy barked junglegiant. Noork grinned.     Tako, woman, he greeted her.     Tako, she replied fearfully. Who speaks to Tholon Sarna? Be youhunter or escaped slave?     A friend, said Noork simply. It was I who killed the spotted      narl     last night when it attacked you.     Doubtfully the girl put away her bow. Her fingers, however, were neverfar from the hilt of her hunting dagger.     Noork swung outward from his perch, and then downward along the ladderof limbs to her side. The girl exclaimed at his brown skin.     Your hair is the color of the sun! she said. Your garb is Vasad, yetyou speak the language of the true men. Her violet oddly slanting eyesopened yet wider. Who are you?     I am Noork, the man told her. For many days have I dwelt among thewild Vasads of the jungle with their golden-skinned chief, Gurn, formy friend.     The girl impulsively took a step nearer. Gurn! she cried. Is he talland strong? Has he a bracelet of golden discs linked together withhuman hair? Does he talk with his own shadow when he thinks?     That is Gurn, admitted Noork shortly. He is also an exile from thewalled city of Grath. The city rulers call him a traitor. He has toldme the reason. Perhaps you know it as well?     Indeed I do, cried Sarna. My brother said that we should no longermake slaves of the captured Zurans from the other valleys.     Noork smiled. I am glad he is your brother, he said simply.  <doc-sep>Most of the cousins gasped as the truth began to percolate through.     I knew from the very beginning, Conrad finished, that I didn'thave to do anything at all. I just had to wait and you would destroyyourselves.     I don't understand, Bartholomew protested, searching the faces of thecousins closest to him. What does he mean, we have never existed?We're here, aren't we? What—     Shut up! Raymond snapped. He turned on Martin. You don't seemsurprised.     The old man grinned. I'm not. I figured it all out years ago.     At first, he had wondered what he should do. Would it be better tothrow them into a futile panic by telling them or to do nothing? Hehad decided on the latter; that was the role they had assigned him—towatch and wait and keep out of things—and that was the role he wouldplay.     You knew all the time and you didn't tell us! Raymond spluttered.After we'd been so good to you, making a gentleman out of you insteadof a criminal.... That's right, he snarled, a criminal! An alcoholic,a thief, a derelict! How do you like that?     Sounds like a rich, full life, Martin said wistfully.     What an exciting existence they must have done him out of! But then, hecouldn't help thinking, he—he and Conrad together, of course—had donethem out of      any     kind of existence. It wasn't his responsibility,though; he had done nothing but let matters take whatever course wasdestined for them. If only he could be sure that it was the bettercourse, perhaps he wouldn't feel that nagging sense of guilt insidehim. Strange—where, in his hermetic life, could he possibly havedeveloped such a queer thing as a conscience?     Then we've wasted all this time, Ninian sobbed, all this energy, allthis money, for nothing!     But you were nothing to begin with, Martin told them. And then,after a pause, he added, I only wish I could be sure there had beensome purpose to this.     He didn't know whether it was approaching death that dimmed his sight,or whether the frightened crowd that pressed around him was growingshadowy.     I wish I could feel that some good had been done in letting you bewiped out of existence, he went on voicing his thoughts. But I knowthat the same thing that happened to your worlds and my world willhappen all over again. To other people, in other times, but again. It'sbound to happen. There isn't any hope for humanity.     One man couldn't really change the course of human history, he toldhimself. Two men, that was—one real, one a shadow.     Conrad came close to the old man's bed. He was almost transparent.     No, he said, there is hope. They didn't know the time transmitterworks two ways. I used it for going into the past only once—just thisonce. But I've gone into the future with it many times. And— hepressed Martin's hand—believe me, what I did—what      we     did, you andI—serves a purpose. It will change things for the better. Everythingis going to be all right.  <doc-sep>  Staying  alive had now become a fetishwith Jon.     On the sixteenth day, the Earthman realizedthat the Steel-Blues also were waitingfor the SP ship.     The extra-terrestrials had repaired theblue ship where the service station atomicray had struck. And they were doing a littletarget practice with plastic bubbles only afew miles above the asteroid.     When his chronometer clocked off thebeginning of the twenty-first day, Jon receiveda tumbler of the hemlock from thehands of No. 1 himself.     It is the hemlock, he chuckled, undiluted.Drink it and your torture is over.You will die before your SP ship is destroyed.     We have played with you long enough.Today we begin to toy with your SP ship.Drink up, Earthman, drink to enslavement.     Weak though he was Jon lunged to hisfeet, spilling the tumbler of liquid. It rancool along the plastic arm of his space suit.He changed his mind about throwing thecontents on No. 1.     With a smile he set the glass at his lipsand drank. Then he laughed at No. 1.     The SP ship will turn your ship intojelly.     No. 1 swept out, chuckling. Boast if youwill, Earthman, it's your last chance.     There was an exultation in Jon's heartthat deadened the hunger and washed awaythe nausea.     At last he knew what the hemlock was.     He sat on the pallet adjusting the littlepower-pack radio. The SP ship should nowbe within range of the set. The space patrolwas notorious for its accuracy in keeping toschedule. Seconds counted like years. Theyhad to be on the nose, or it meant disasteror death.     He sent out the call letters.     AX to SP-101 ... AX to SP-101 ... AXto SP-101 ...     Three times he sent the call, then begansending his message, hoping that his signalwas reaching the ship. He couldn't know ifthey answered. Though the power packcould get out a message over a vast distance,it could not pick up messages evenwhen backed by an SP ship's power unlessthe ship was only a few hundred milesaway.     The power pack was strictly a distresssignal.     He didn't know how long he'd beensending, nor how many times his wearyvoice had repeated the short but desperatemessage.     He kept watching the heavens and hoping.     Abruptly he knew the SP ship was coming,for the blue ship of the Steel-Blues wasrising silently from the asteroid.     Up and up it rose, then flames flickeredin a circle about its curious shape. The shipdisappeared, suddenly accelerating.     Jon Karyl strained his eyes.     Finally he looked away from the heavensto the two Steel-Blues who stood negligentlyoutside the goldfish bowl.     Once more, Jon used the stubray pistol.He marched out of the plastic igloo and rantoward the service station.     He didn't know how weak he was untilhe stumbled and fell only a few feet fromhis prison.     The Steel-Blues just watched him.     He crawled on, around the circular pit inthe sward of the asteroid where one Steel-Bluehad shown him the power of hisweapon.     He'd been crawling through a nightmarefor years when the quiet voice penetratedhis dulled mind.     Take it easy, Karyl. You're amongfriends.     He pried open his eyes with his will. Hesaw the blue and gold of a space guard'suniform. He sighed and drifted into unconsciousness.   <doc-sep>You don't get to be Precinct Captain on nothing but politicalconnections. Those help, of course, but you need more than that. AsCaptain Hanks was fond of pointing out, you needed as well to be bothmore imaginative than most—You gotta be able to second-guess thesmart boys—and to be a complete realist—You gotta have both feeton the ground. If these were somewhat contradictory qualities, it wasbest not to mention the fact to Captain Hanks.     The realist side of the captain's nature was currently at the fore.Just what are you trying to say, Stevenson? he demanded.     I'm not sure, admitted Stevenson. But we've got these two things.First, there's the getaway car from that bank job. The wheels melt forno reason at all, and somebody burns 'The Scorpion' onto the trunk.Then, yesterday, this guy Higgins out in Canarsie. He says the rifleall of a sudden got too hot to hold, and he's got the burn marks toprove it. And there on the rifle stock it is again. 'The Scorpion'.     He says he put that on there himself, said the captain.     Stevenson shook his head. His      lawyer     says he put it on there.Higgins says he doesn't remember doing it. That's half the lawyer'scase. He's trying to build up an insanity defense.     He put it on there himself, Stevenson, said the captain with wearypatience. What are you trying to prove?     I don't know. All I know is it's the nuttiest thing I ever saw. Andwhat about the getaway car? What about those tires melting?     They were defective, said Hanks promptly.     All four of them at once? And what about the thing written on thetrunk?     How do I know? demanded the captain. Kids put it on before the carwas stolen, maybe. Or maybe the hoods did it themselves, who knows?What do      they     say?     They say they didn't do it, said Stevenson. And they say they neversaw it before the robbery and they would have noticed it if it'd beenthere.     The captain shook his head. I don't get it, he admitted. What areyou trying to prove?     I guess, said Stevenson slowly, thinking it out as he went along, Iguess I'm trying to prove that somebody melted those tires, and madethat rifle too hot, and left his signature behind.     What? You mean like in the comic books? Come on, Stevenson! What areyou trying to hand me?     All I know, insisted Stevenson, is what I see.     And all      I     know, the captain told him, is Higgins put that name onhis rifle himself. He says so.     And what made it so hot?     Hell, man, he'd been firing that thing at people for an hour! What doyou      think     made it hot?     All of a sudden?     He noticed it all of a sudden, when it started to burn him.     How come the same name showed up each time, then? Stevenson askeddesperately.     How should I know? And why not, anyway? You know as well as I do thesethings happen. A bunch of teen-agers burgle a liquor store and theywrite 'The Golden Avengers' on the plate glass in lipstick. It happensall the time. Why not 'The Scorpion'? It couldn't occur to two people?     But there's no explanation— started Stevenson.     What do you mean, there's no explanation? I just      gave     you theexplanation. Look, Stevenson, I'm a busy man. You got a nuttyidea—like Wilcox a few years ago, remember him? Got the idea therewas a fiend around loose, stuffing all those kids into abandonedrefrigerators to starve. He went around trying to prove it, and gettingall upset, and pretty soon they had to put him away in the nut hatch.Remember?     I remember, said Stevenson.     Forget this silly stuff, Stevenson, the captain advised him.     Yes, sir, said Stevenson....     The day after Jerome Higgins went berserk, the afternoon mail brought acrank letter to the      Daily News     :     Dear Mr. Editor,     You did not warn your readers. The man who shot all those people couldnot escape the Scorpion. The Scorpion fights crime. No criminal issafe from the Scorpion. WARN YOUR READERS.     Sincerely yours,     THE SCORPION     Unfortunately, this letter was not read by the same individual who hadseen the first one, two months before. At any rate, it was filed in thesame place, and forgotten.      III     Hallowe'en is a good time for a rumble. There's too many kids aroundfor the cops to keep track of all of them, and if you're picked upcarrying a knife or a length of tire chain or something, why, you're onyour way to a Hallowe'en party and you're in costume. You're going as aJD.     The problem was this schoolyard. It was a block wide, with entranceson two streets. The street on the north was Challenger territory, andthe street on the south was Scarlet Raider territory, and both sidesclaimed the schoolyard. There had been a few skirmishes, a few guysfrom both gangs had been jumped and knocked around a little, but thathad been all. Finally, the War Lords from the two gangs had met, anddetermined that the matter could only be settled in a war.     The time was chosen: Hallowe'en. The place was chosen: the schoolyard.The weapons were chosen: pocket knives and tire chains okay, but nopistols or zip-guns. The time was fixed: eleven P.M. And the winnerwould have undisputed territorial rights to the schoolyard, bothentrances.     The night of the rumble, the gangs assembled in their separateclubrooms for last-minute instructions. Debs were sent out to playchicken at the intersections nearest the schoolyard, both to warn ofthe approach of cops and to keep out any non-combatant kids who mightcome wandering through.     Judy Canzanetti was a Deb with the Scarlet Raiders. She was fifteenyears old, short and black-haired and pretty in a movie-magazine,gum-chewing sort of way. She was proud of being in the Auxiliary of theScarlet Raiders, and proud also of the job that had been assigned toher. She was to stand chicken on the southwest corner of the street.     Judy took up her position at five minutes to eleven. The streets weredark and quiet. Few people cared to walk this neighborhood after dark,particularly on Hallowe'en. Judy leaned her back against the telephonepole on the corner, stuck her hands in the pockets of her ScarletRaider jacket and waited.     At eleven o'clock, she heard indistinct noises begin behind her. Therumble had started.     At five after eleven, a bunch of little kids came wandering down thestreet. They were all about ten or eleven years old, and most of themcarried trick-or-treat shopping bags. Some of them had Hallowe'en maskson.     They started to make the turn toward the schoolyard. Judy said, Hey,you kids. Take off.     One of them, wearing a red mask, turned to look at her. Who, us?     Yes, you! Stay out of that street. Go on down that way.     The subway's this way, objected the kid in the red mask.     Who cares? You go around the other way.  <doc-sep>Fownes stopped on the porch to brush the plaster of paris off hisshoes. He hadn't seen the patrol car and this intense preoccupationof his was also responsible for the dancing house—he simply hadn'tnoticed. There was a certain amount of vibration, of course. Hehad a bootleg pipe connected into the dome blower system, and thehigh-pressure air caused some buffeting against the thin walls of thehouse. At least, he called it buffeting; he'd never thought to watchfrom outside.     He went in and threw his jacket on the sofa, there being no roomleft in the closets. Crossing the living room he stopped to twist adraw-pull.     Every window slammed shut.     Tight as a kite, he thought, satisfied. He continued on toward thecloset at the foot of the stairs and then stopped again. Was thatright? No,      snug as a hug in a rug     . He went on, thinking:      The olddevils.       The downstairs closet was like a great watch case, a profusion ofwheels surrounding the Master Mechanism, which was a miniature see-sawthat went back and forth 365-1/4 times an hour. The wheels had acurious stateliness about them. They were all quite old, salvaged fromgrandfather's clocks and music boxes and they went around in gracefulcircles at the rate of 30 and 31 times an hour ... although therewas one slightly eccentric cam that vacillated between 28 and 29. Hewatched as they spun and flashed in the darkness, and then set them forseven o'clock in the evening, April seventh, any year.     Outside, the domed city vanished.     It was replaced by an illusion. Or, as Fownes hoped it might appear,the illusion of the domed city vanished and was replaced by a moresatisfactory, and, for his specific purpose, more functional, illusion.Looking through the window he saw only a garden.     Instead of an orange sun at perpetual high noon, there was a red sunsetting brilliantly, marred only by an occasional arcover which leftthe smell of ozone in the air. There was also a gigantic moon. It hid ahuge area of sky, and it sang. The sun and moon both looked down upon agarden that was itself scintillant, composed largely of neon roses.     Moonlight, he thought, and roses. Satisfactory.      And cocktails fortwo.     Blast, he'd never be able to figure that one out! He watched asthe moon played,      Oh, You Beautiful Doll     and the neon roses flashedslowly from red to violet, then went back to the closet and turned onthe scent. The house began to smell like an immensely concentrated roseas the moon shifted to      People Will Say We're In Love     .  <doc-sep>She had finished. And now Cyril cleared his throat. Dear friends, wewere honored by your gracious invitation to visit this fair planet, andwe are honored now by the cordial reception you have given to us.     The crowd yoomped politely. After a slight start, Cyril went on,apparently deciding that applause was all that had been intended.     We feel quite sure that we are going to derive both pleasure andprofit from our stay here, and we promise to make our intensiveanalysis of your culture as painless as possible. We wish only to studyyour society, not to tamper with it in any way.       Ha, ha     , Skkiru said to himself.      Ha, ha, ha!       But why is it, Raoul whispered in Terran as he glanced around out ofthe corners of his eyes, that only the beggar wears mudshoes?     Shhh, Cyril hissed back. We'll find out later, when we'veestablished rapport. Don't be so impatient!     Bbulas gave a sickly smile. Skkiru could almost find it in his heartsto feel sorry for the man.     We have prepared our best hut for you, noble sirs, Bbulas said withgreat self-control, and, by happy chance, this very evening a smallbut unusually interesting ceremony will be held outside the temple. Wehope you will be able to attend. It is to be a rain dance.     Rain dance! Raoul pulled his macintosh together more tightly at thethroat. But why do you want rain? My faith, not only does it rain now,but the planet seems to be a veritable sea of mud. Not, of course, headded hurriedly as Cyril's reproachful eye caught his, that it is notattractive mud. Finest mud I have ever seen. Such texture, such color,such aroma!     Cyril nodded three times and gave an appreciative sniff.     But, Raoul went on, one can have too much of even such a good thingas mud....     The smile did not leave Bbulas' smooth face. Yes, of course, honorableTerrestrials. That is why we are holding this ceremony. It is not adance to bring on rain. It is a dance to      stop     rain.     He was pretty quick on the uptake, Skkiru had to concede. However,that was not enough. The man had no genuine organizational ability.In the time he'd had in which to plan and carry out a scheme forthe improvement of Snaddra, surely he could have done better thanthis high-school theocracy. For one thing, he could have apportionedthe various roles so that each person would be making a definitecontribution to the society, instead of creating some positions plums,like the priesthood, and others prunes, like the beggarship.     What kind of life was that for an active, ambitious young man, standingaround begging? And, moreover, from whom was Skkiru going to beg?Only the Earthmen, for the Snaddrath, no matter how much they threwthemselves into the spirit of their roles, could not be so carriedaway that they would give handouts to a young man whom they had beenaccustomed to see basking in the bosom of luxury.  <doc-sep>Brown stared at this evidence of the Grannies' power withterror-fascinated eyes. His voice was none too firm.     Lord! Piledrivers! A couple more like that—     Isobar nodded. He knew what falling into the clutch of the Granniesmeant. He had once seen the grisly aftermath of a Graniteback feast.Even now their adversaries had drawn back for a second attack. A suddenidea struck him. A straw of hope at which he grasped feverishly.     You telecast a message to the Dome? Help should be on the way by now.If we can just hold out—     But Roberts shook his head.     We sent a message, Jonesy, but I don't think it got through. I've justbeen looking at my portable. It seems to be busted. Happened when theyfirst attacked us, I guess. I tripped and fell on it.     Isobar's last hope flickered out.     Then I—I guess it won't be long now, he mourned. If we could haveonly got a message through, they would have sent out an armored car topick us up. But as it is—     Brown's shrug displayed a bravado he did not feel.     Well, that's the way it goes. We knew what we were risking when wevolunteered to come Outside. This damn moon! It'll never be wortha plugged credit until men find some way to fight those murderousstones-on-legs!     Roberts said, That's right. But what are      you     doing out here, Isobar?And why, for Pete's sake, the bagpipes?     Oh—the pipes? Isobar flushed painfully. He had almost forgottenhis original reason for adventuring Outside, had quite forgottenhis instrument, and was now rather amazed to discover that somehowthroughout all the excitement he had held onto it. Why, I justhappened to—Oh!      the pipes!          Hold on! roared Roberts. His warning came just in time. Once more,the three tree-sitters shook like dried peas in a pod as their leafyrefuge trembled before the locomotive onslaught of the lunar beasts.This time the already-exposed roots strained and lifted, severalsnapped; when the Grannies again withdrew, complacently unaware thatthe lethal ray of Brown's Haemholtz was wasting itself upon theiradamant hides in futile fury, the tree was bent at a precarious angle.     Brown sobbed, not with fear but with impotent anger, and in a gestureof enraged desperation, hurled his now-empty weapon at the retreatingGrannies.     No good! Not a damn bit of good! Oh, if there was only some way offighting those filthy things—     But Isobar Jones had a one-track mind. The pipes! he cried again,excitedly. That's the answer! And he drew the instrument into playingposition, bag cuddled beneath one arm-pit, drones stiffly erect overhis shoulder, blow-pipe at his lips. His cheeks puffed, his breathexpelled. The giant lung swelled, the chaunter emitted its distinctive,fearsome,       Kaa-aa-o-o-o-oro-oong!          Roberts moaned.     Oh, Lord! A guy can't even die in peace!     And Brown stared at him hopelessly.     It's no use, Isobar. You trying to scare them off? They have no senseof hearing. That's been proven—     Isobar took his lips from the reed to explain.     It's not that. I'm trying to rouse the boys in the Dome. We're rightopposite the atmosphere-conditioning-unit. See that grilled duct overthere? That's an inhalation-vent. The portable transmitter's out oforder, and our voices ain't strong enough to carry into the Dome—butthe sound of these pipes is! And Commander Eagan told me just a shortwhile ago that the sound of the pipes carries all over the building!     If they hear this, they'll get mad because I'm disobeyin' orders.They'll start lookin' for me. If they can't find me inside, maybethey'll look Outside. See that window? That's Sparks' turret. If we canmake him look out here—           Stop talking!      roared Roberts. Stop talking, guy, and startblowing! I think you've got something there. Anyhow, it's our lasthope.      Blow!          And quick! appended Brown. For here they come!        Isobar played, blew with all his might, while the Grannies raged below.        He meant the Grannies. Again they were huddling for attack, once more,a solid phalanx of indestructible, granite flesh, they were smashingdown upon the tree.           Haa-a-roong!      blew Isobar Jones.      IV     And—even he could not have foreseen the astounding results ofhis piping! What happened next was as astonishing as it wasincomprehensible. For as the pipes, filled now and primed to burst intowhatever substitute for melody they were prodded into, wailed intoaction—the Grannies' rush came to an abrupt halt!     As one, they stopped cold in their tracks and turned dull, colorless,questioning eyes upward into the tree whence came this weird andvibrant droning!     So stunned with surprise was Isobar that his grip on the pipes relaxed,his lips almost slipped from the reed. But Brown's delighted bellowlifted his paralysis.     Sacred rings of Saturn-look! They      like     it! Keep playing, Jonesy!Play, boy, like you never played before!     And Roberts roared, above the skirling of the      piobaireachd     intowhich Isobar had instinctively swung, Music hath charms to soothe thesavage beast! Then we were wrong. They      can     hear, after all! See that?They're lying down to listen—like so many lambs! Keep playing, Isobar!For once in my life I'm glad to hear that lovely, wonderful music!     Isobar needed no urging. He, too, had noted how the Grannies' attackhad stopped, how every last one of the gaunt grey beasts had suddenly,quietly, almost happily, dropped to its haunches at the base of thetree.     There was no doubt about it; the Grannies      liked     this music. Eyesraptly fixed, unblinking, unwavering, they froze into postures ofgentle beatitude. One stirred once, dangerously, as for a moment Isobarpaused to catch his breath, but Isobar hastily lipped the blow-pipewith redoubled eagerness, and the Granny relapsed into quietude.     Followed then what, under somewhat different circumstances, should havebeen a piper's dream. For Isobar had an audience which would not—andin two cases      dared     not—allow him to stop playing. And to thisaudience he played over and over again his entire repertoire. Marches,flings, dances—the stirring      Rhoderik Dhu     and the lilting      LassiesO'Skye     , the mournful      Coghiegh nha Shie     whose keening is like thesound of a sobbing nation.       The Cock o' the North     , he played, and      Mironton     ...      Wee Flow'r o'Dee     and      MacArthur's March     ...      La Cucuracha     and—     And his lungs were parched, his lips dry as swabs of cotton. Bloodpounded through his temples, throbbing in time to the drone of thechaunter, and a dark mist gathered before his eyes. He tore theblow-pipe from his lips, gasped,     Keep playing! came the dim, distant howl of Johnny Brown. Just a fewminutes longer, Jonesy! Relief is on the way. Sparks saw us from histurret window five minutes ago!     And Isobar played on. How, or what, he did not know. The memory ofthose next few minutes was never afterward clear in his mind. All heknew was that above the skirling drone of his pipes there came anothersound, the metallic clanking of a man-made machine ... an armored tank,sent from the Dome to rescue the beleaguered trio.     He was conscious, then, of a friendly voice shouting words ofencouragement, of Joe Roberts calling a warning to those below.     Careful, boys! Drive the tank right up beneath us so we can hop in andget out of here! Watch the Grannies—they'll be after us the minuteIsobar stops playing!     Then the answer from below. The fantastic answer in Sparks' familiarvoice. The answer that caused the bagpipes to slip from Isobar'sfingers as Isobar Jones passed out in a dead faint:     After you? Those Grannies? Hell's howling acres—      those Grannies arestone dead     !  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What role does enslavement play in Raiders of the Second Moon?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What role do the Misty Ones play in Raiders of the Second Moon? [SEP] <s>Ud tasted the scent of a man and sluggishly rolled his bullet head fromshoulder to shoulder as he tried to catch sight of his ages-old enemy.For between the hairy quarter-ton beast men of the jungles of Sekk andthe golden men of the valley cities who enslaved them there was eternalwar.     A growl rumbled deep in the hairy half-man's chest. He could see noenemy and yet the scent grew stronger with every breath.     You hunt too near the lake, called a voice. The demons of the waterwill trap you.     Ud's great nostrils quivered. He tasted the odor of a friend mingledwith that of a strange Zuran. He squatted.     It's Noork, he grunted. Why do I not see you?     I have stolen the skin of a demon, answered the invisible man. Go toGurn. Tell him to fear the demons no longer. Tell him the Misty Onescan be trapped and skinned.     Why you want their skins? Ud scratched his hairy gray skull.     Go to save Gurn's ... and here Noork was stumped for words. To savehis father's woman woman, he managed at last. Father's woman womancalled Sarna.     And the misty blob of nothingness was gone again, its goal now themarshy lowlands that extended upward perhaps a thousand feet from thejungle's ragged fringe to end at last in the muddy shallows of the Lakeof Uzdon.     To Noork it seemed that all the world must be like these savage junglefastnesses of the twelve valleys and their central lake. He knew thatthe giant bird had carried him from some other place that his batteredbrain could not remember, but to him it seemed incredible that mencould live elsewhere than in a jungle valley.     But Noork was wrong. The giant bird that he had ridden into the depthsof Sekk's fertile valleys had come from a far different world. And theother bird, for which Noork had been searching when he came upon thegolden-skinned girl, was from another world also.     The other bird had come from space several days before that of Noork,the Vasads had told him, and it had landed somewhere within the landof sunken valleys. Perhaps, thought Noork, the bird had come from thesame valley that had once been his home. He would find the bird andperhaps then he could remember better who he had been.     So it was, ironically enough, that Stephen Dietrich—whose memory wasgone completely—again took up the trail of Doctor Karl Von Mark, lastof the Axis criminals at large. The trail that had led the red-hairedyoung American flier from rebuilding Greece into Africa and the hiddenvalley where Doctor Von Mark worked feverishly to restore the crumbledstructure of Nazidom, and then had sent him hurtling spaceward in thesecond of the Doctor's crude space-ships was now drawing to an end.The Doctor and the young American pilot were both trapped here on thislittle blob of cosmic matter that hides beyond the Moon's cratered bulk.     The Doctor's ship had landed safely on Sekk, the wily scientistpreferring the lesser gravity of this fertile world to that of thelifeless Moon in the event that he returned again to Earth, butDietrich's spacer had crashed.     Two words linked Noork with the past, the two words that the Vasadshad slurred into his name: New York. And the battered wrist watch, itscrystal and hands gone, were all that remained of his Earthly garb.  <doc-sep>Most of the cousins gasped as the truth began to percolate through.     I knew from the very beginning, Conrad finished, that I didn'thave to do anything at all. I just had to wait and you would destroyyourselves.     I don't understand, Bartholomew protested, searching the faces of thecousins closest to him. What does he mean, we have never existed?We're here, aren't we? What—     Shut up! Raymond snapped. He turned on Martin. You don't seemsurprised.     The old man grinned. I'm not. I figured it all out years ago.     At first, he had wondered what he should do. Would it be better tothrow them into a futile panic by telling them or to do nothing? Hehad decided on the latter; that was the role they had assigned him—towatch and wait and keep out of things—and that was the role he wouldplay.     You knew all the time and you didn't tell us! Raymond spluttered.After we'd been so good to you, making a gentleman out of you insteadof a criminal.... That's right, he snarled, a criminal! An alcoholic,a thief, a derelict! How do you like that?     Sounds like a rich, full life, Martin said wistfully.     What an exciting existence they must have done him out of! But then, hecouldn't help thinking, he—he and Conrad together, of course—had donethem out of      any     kind of existence. It wasn't his responsibility,though; he had done nothing but let matters take whatever course wasdestined for them. If only he could be sure that it was the bettercourse, perhaps he wouldn't feel that nagging sense of guilt insidehim. Strange—where, in his hermetic life, could he possibly havedeveloped such a queer thing as a conscience?     Then we've wasted all this time, Ninian sobbed, all this energy, allthis money, for nothing!     But you were nothing to begin with, Martin told them. And then,after a pause, he added, I only wish I could be sure there had beensome purpose to this.     He didn't know whether it was approaching death that dimmed his sight,or whether the frightened crowd that pressed around him was growingshadowy.     I wish I could feel that some good had been done in letting you bewiped out of existence, he went on voicing his thoughts. But I knowthat the same thing that happened to your worlds and my world willhappen all over again. To other people, in other times, but again. It'sbound to happen. There isn't any hope for humanity.     One man couldn't really change the course of human history, he toldhimself. Two men, that was—one real, one a shadow.     Conrad came close to the old man's bed. He was almost transparent.     No, he said, there is hope. They didn't know the time transmitterworks two ways. I used it for going into the past only once—just thisonce. But I've gone into the future with it many times. And— hepressed Martin's hand—believe me, what I did—what      we     did, you andI—serves a purpose. It will change things for the better. Everythingis going to be all right.  <doc-sep>  Raiders of the Second Moon     By GENE ELLERMAN     A strange destiny had erased Noork's memory,     and had brought him to this tiny world—to     write an end to his first existence.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Summer 1945.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Beyond earth swings that airless pocked mass of fused rock and grayvolcanic dust that we know as Luna. Of this our naked eyes assure us.But of the smaller satellite, hidden forever from the mundane view byLuna's bulk, we know little.     Small is Sekk, that second moon, less than five hundred miles indiameter, but the period of its revolution is thirty two hours, and itsmeaner mass retains a breathable atmosphere. There is life on Sekk,life that centers around the sunken star-shaped cavity where an ovallake gleams softly in the depths. And the eleven radiating tips of thestarry abyss are valleys green with jungle growth.     In one of those green valleys the white savage that the Vasads calledNoork squatted in the ample crotch of a jungle giant and watched thetrail forty feet below. For down there moved alertly a golden skinnedgirl, her only weapons a puny polished bow of yellow wood and asheathed dagger.     Sight of the girl's flowing brown hair and the graceful femininecontours of her smooth-limbed body beneath its skin-halter and theinsignificant breech-clout, made his brow wrinkle with concentration.Not forever had he lived in this jungle world of valleys and raggedcliffs. Since he had learned the tongue of the hairy Vasads of forest,and the tongue of their gold-skinned leader, Gurn, the renegade, he hadconfirmed that belief.     For a huge gleaming bird had carried him in its talons to the top ofthe cliff above their valley and from the rock fire had risen to devourthe great bird. Somehow he had been flung clear and escaped the deathof the mysterious bird-thing. And in his delirium he had babbled thewords that caused the apish Vasads to name him Noork. Now he repeatedthem aloud.     New York, he said, good ol' New York.     The girl heard. She looked upward fearfully, her rounded bare arm goingback to the bow slung across her shoulder. Swiftly she fitted an arrowand stepped back against the friendly bole of a shaggy barked junglegiant. Noork grinned.     Tako, woman, he greeted her.     Tako, she replied fearfully. Who speaks to Tholon Sarna? Be youhunter or escaped slave?     A friend, said Noork simply. It was I who killed the spotted      narl     last night when it attacked you.     Doubtfully the girl put away her bow. Her fingers, however, were neverfar from the hilt of her hunting dagger.     Noork swung outward from his perch, and then downward along the ladderof limbs to her side. The girl exclaimed at his brown skin.     Your hair is the color of the sun! she said. Your garb is Vasad, yetyou speak the language of the true men. Her violet oddly slanting eyesopened yet wider. Who are you?     I am Noork, the man told her. For many days have I dwelt among thewild Vasads of the jungle with their golden-skinned chief, Gurn, formy friend.     The girl impulsively took a step nearer. Gurn! she cried. Is he talland strong? Has he a bracelet of golden discs linked together withhuman hair? Does he talk with his own shadow when he thinks?     That is Gurn, admitted Noork shortly. He is also an exile from thewalled city of Grath. The city rulers call him a traitor. He has toldme the reason. Perhaps you know it as well?     Indeed I do, cried Sarna. My brother said that we should no longermake slaves of the captured Zurans from the other valleys.     Noork smiled. I am glad he is your brother, he said simply.  <doc-sep>Without incident they reached the field where Rold toiled among therows of vegetables. Another slave was working in a nearby field,his crude wooden plow pulled by two sweating Vasads, but he was notwatching when Rold abruptly faded from view.     Noork was sweating with the weight of two cloaks and the airlessness ofthe vision shield as they crossed the field toward his rope, but he hadno wish to discard them yet. The tinted shield had revealed that dozensof the Misty Ones were stationed about the wall to guard against theescape of the slaves.     They came to the wall and to Noork's great joy found the rope hangingas he had left it. He climbed the wall first and then with Rold helpingfrom below, drew Sarna to his side. A moment later saw the three ofthem climbing along the limb to the bole of the tree and so to thejungle matted ground outside the wall.     Will we hide here in the trees until night? asked the girl's fullvoice.     Noork held aside a mossy creeper until the girl had passed. I thinknot, he said. The Misty Ones are continually passing from the islandto the shore. We are Misty Ones to any that watch from the wall. So wewill paddle boldly across the water.     That is good, agreed the slave, unless they see us put out from theshore. Their two landing stages are further along the beach, oppositethe Temple of Uzdon.     Then we must hug to the shore until we pass the tip of the island,said Noork thoughtfully. In that way even if they detect us we willhave put a safe distance between us.     Shortly after midday Noork felt the oozy slime of the marshy lowlandsof the mainland beneath his paddle and the dugout ran ashore in thegrassy inlet for which they had been heading. His palms were blisteredand the heavy robes he yet wore were soaked with sweat.     Once we reach the jungle, he told the girl, off come these robes. Iam broiled alive.     Suddenly Noork froze in his tracks. He thrust the girl behind him.Misty Ones! he hissed to Rold. They crouch among the reeds. Theycarry nets and clubs to trap us.     Rold turned back toward the boat with Noork and Sarna close at hisheels. But the Misty Ones were upon them and by sheer numbers they borethem to the ground. Noork's mightier muscles smashed more than onehooded face but in the end he too lay smothered beneath the nets andbodies of the enemy.     A misty shape came to stand beside these three new captives as theywere stripped of their robes. His foot nudged at Noork's head curiouslyand a guttural voice commanded the shield be removed. Then his voicechanged—thickened—as he saw the features of Noork.     So, he barked in a tongue that should have been strange to Noork butwas not, it is the trapper's turn to be trapped, eh Captain Dietrich?  <doc-sep>The girl's eyes fell before his admiring gaze and warm blood floodedinto her rounded neck and lovely cheeks.     Brown-skinned one! she cried with a stamp of her shapely littlesandalled foot. I am displeased with the noises of your tongue. I willlisten to it no more.     But her eyes gave the provocative lie to her words. This brown-skinnedgiant with the sunlit hair was very attractive....     The girl was still talking much later, as they walked together alongthe game-trail. When my captors were but one day's march from theirfoul city of Bis the warriors of the city of Konto, through whosefertile valley we had journeyed by night, fell upon the slavers.     And in the confusion of the attack five of us escaped. We returnedtoward the valley of Grath, but to avoid the intervening valley whereour enemies, the men of Konto, lived, we swung close to the Lake ofUzdon. And the Misty Ones from the Temple of the Skull trailed us. Ialone escaped.     Noork lifted the short, broad-bladed sword that swung in its sheathat his belt and let it drop back into place with a satisfying whisperof flexible leather on steel. He looked toward the east where lay themysterious long lake of the Misty Ones.     Some day, he said reflectively, I am going to visit the island ofthe unseen evil beings who stole away your friends. Perhaps after Ihave taken you to your brother's hidden village, and from there toyour city of Grath.... He smiled.     The girl did not answer. His keen ears, now that he was no longerspeaking, caught the scuffing of feet into the jungle behind him. Heturned quickly to find the girl had vanished, and with an instinctivereflex of motion he flung himself to one side into the dense wall ofthe jungle. As it was the unseen club thudded down along his right arm,numbing it so he felt nothing for some time.     One armed as he was temporarily, and with an unseen foe to reckon with,Noork awkwardly swung up into the comparative safety of the trees. Oncethere, perched in the crotch of a mighty jungle monarch, he peered downat the apparently empty stretch of sunken trail beneath.      Noork      At first he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Apparently there was nostir of life along that leaf-shadowed way. And then he caught a glimpseof blurring shadowy shapes, blotches of cottony mist that blended alltoo well with the foliage. One of the things from the island in theLake of Uzdon moved, and he saw briefly the bottom of a foot dirtiedwith the mud of the trail.     Noork squinted. So the Misty Ones were not entirely invisible. Painwas growing in his numbed arm now, but as it came so came strength. Heclimbed further out on the great branch to where sticky and overripefruit hung heavy. With a grin he locked his legs upon the forking ofthe great limb and filled his arms with fruit.     A barrage of the juicy fruit blanketed the misty shapes. Stains spreadand grew. Patchy outlines took on a new color and sharpness. Noorkfound that he was pelting a half-dozen hooded and robed creatures whosearms and legs numbered the same as his own, and the last remnant ofsuperstitious fear instilled in his bruised brain by the shaggy Vasadsvanished.     These Misty Ones were living breathing creatures like himself! Theywere not gods, or demons, or even the ghostly servants of demons. Hestrung his bow quickly, the short powerful bow that Gurn had given him,and rained arrows down upon the cowering robed creatures.     And the monsters fled. They fled down the trail or faded away into thejungle. All but one of them. The arrow had pierced a vital portion ofthis Misty One's body. He fell and moved no more.     A moment later Noork was ripping the stained cloak and hood from thefallen creature, curious to learn what ghastly brute-thing hid beneaththem. His lip curled at what he saw.     The Misty One was almost like himself. His skin was not so golden asthat of the other men of Zuran, and his forehead was low and retreatingin a bestial fashion. Upon his body there was more hair, and his facewas made hideous with swollen colored scars that formed an irregulardesign. He wore a sleeveless tunic of light green and his only weaponswere two long knives and a club.     So, said Noork, the men of the island prey upon their own kind. Andthe Temple of Uzdon in the lake is guarded by cowardly warriors likethis.     Noork shrugged his shoulders and set off at a mile-devouring pace downthe game trail toward the lake where the Temple of the Skull and itsunseen guardians lay. Once he stopped at a leaf-choked pool to wash thestains from the dead man's foggy robe.     The jungle was thinning out. Noork's teeth flashed as he lifted thedrying fabric of the mantle and donned it.  <doc-sep>You don't get to be Precinct Captain on nothing but politicalconnections. Those help, of course, but you need more than that. AsCaptain Hanks was fond of pointing out, you needed as well to be bothmore imaginative than most—You gotta be able to second-guess thesmart boys—and to be a complete realist—You gotta have both feeton the ground. If these were somewhat contradictory qualities, it wasbest not to mention the fact to Captain Hanks.     The realist side of the captain's nature was currently at the fore.Just what are you trying to say, Stevenson? he demanded.     I'm not sure, admitted Stevenson. But we've got these two things.First, there's the getaway car from that bank job. The wheels melt forno reason at all, and somebody burns 'The Scorpion' onto the trunk.Then, yesterday, this guy Higgins out in Canarsie. He says the rifleall of a sudden got too hot to hold, and he's got the burn marks toprove it. And there on the rifle stock it is again. 'The Scorpion'.     He says he put that on there himself, said the captain.     Stevenson shook his head. His      lawyer     says he put it on there.Higgins says he doesn't remember doing it. That's half the lawyer'scase. He's trying to build up an insanity defense.     He put it on there himself, Stevenson, said the captain with wearypatience. What are you trying to prove?     I don't know. All I know is it's the nuttiest thing I ever saw. Andwhat about the getaway car? What about those tires melting?     They were defective, said Hanks promptly.     All four of them at once? And what about the thing written on thetrunk?     How do I know? demanded the captain. Kids put it on before the carwas stolen, maybe. Or maybe the hoods did it themselves, who knows?What do      they     say?     They say they didn't do it, said Stevenson. And they say they neversaw it before the robbery and they would have noticed it if it'd beenthere.     The captain shook his head. I don't get it, he admitted. What areyou trying to prove?     I guess, said Stevenson slowly, thinking it out as he went along, Iguess I'm trying to prove that somebody melted those tires, and madethat rifle too hot, and left his signature behind.     What? You mean like in the comic books? Come on, Stevenson! What areyou trying to hand me?     All I know, insisted Stevenson, is what I see.     And all      I     know, the captain told him, is Higgins put that name onhis rifle himself. He says so.     And what made it so hot?     Hell, man, he'd been firing that thing at people for an hour! What doyou      think     made it hot?     All of a sudden?     He noticed it all of a sudden, when it started to burn him.     How come the same name showed up each time, then? Stevenson askeddesperately.     How should I know? And why not, anyway? You know as well as I do thesethings happen. A bunch of teen-agers burgle a liquor store and theywrite 'The Golden Avengers' on the plate glass in lipstick. It happensall the time. Why not 'The Scorpion'? It couldn't occur to two people?     But there's no explanation— started Stevenson.     What do you mean, there's no explanation? I just      gave     you theexplanation. Look, Stevenson, I'm a busy man. You got a nuttyidea—like Wilcox a few years ago, remember him? Got the idea therewas a fiend around loose, stuffing all those kids into abandonedrefrigerators to starve. He went around trying to prove it, and gettingall upset, and pretty soon they had to put him away in the nut hatch.Remember?     I remember, said Stevenson.     Forget this silly stuff, Stevenson, the captain advised him.     Yes, sir, said Stevenson....     The day after Jerome Higgins went berserk, the afternoon mail brought acrank letter to the      Daily News     :     Dear Mr. Editor,     You did not warn your readers. The man who shot all those people couldnot escape the Scorpion. The Scorpion fights crime. No criminal issafe from the Scorpion. WARN YOUR READERS.     Sincerely yours,     THE SCORPION     Unfortunately, this letter was not read by the same individual who hadseen the first one, two months before. At any rate, it was filed in thesame place, and forgotten.      III     Hallowe'en is a good time for a rumble. There's too many kids aroundfor the cops to keep track of all of them, and if you're picked upcarrying a knife or a length of tire chain or something, why, you're onyour way to a Hallowe'en party and you're in costume. You're going as aJD.     The problem was this schoolyard. It was a block wide, with entranceson two streets. The street on the north was Challenger territory, andthe street on the south was Scarlet Raider territory, and both sidesclaimed the schoolyard. There had been a few skirmishes, a few guysfrom both gangs had been jumped and knocked around a little, but thathad been all. Finally, the War Lords from the two gangs had met, anddetermined that the matter could only be settled in a war.     The time was chosen: Hallowe'en. The place was chosen: the schoolyard.The weapons were chosen: pocket knives and tire chains okay, but nopistols or zip-guns. The time was fixed: eleven P.M. And the winnerwould have undisputed territorial rights to the schoolyard, bothentrances.     The night of the rumble, the gangs assembled in their separateclubrooms for last-minute instructions. Debs were sent out to playchicken at the intersections nearest the schoolyard, both to warn ofthe approach of cops and to keep out any non-combatant kids who mightcome wandering through.     Judy Canzanetti was a Deb with the Scarlet Raiders. She was fifteenyears old, short and black-haired and pretty in a movie-magazine,gum-chewing sort of way. She was proud of being in the Auxiliary of theScarlet Raiders, and proud also of the job that had been assigned toher. She was to stand chicken on the southwest corner of the street.     Judy took up her position at five minutes to eleven. The streets weredark and quiet. Few people cared to walk this neighborhood after dark,particularly on Hallowe'en. Judy leaned her back against the telephonepole on the corner, stuck her hands in the pockets of her ScarletRaider jacket and waited.     At eleven o'clock, she heard indistinct noises begin behind her. Therumble had started.     At five after eleven, a bunch of little kids came wandering down thestreet. They were all about ten or eleven years old, and most of themcarried trick-or-treat shopping bags. Some of them had Hallowe'en maskson.     They started to make the turn toward the schoolyard. Judy said, Hey,you kids. Take off.     One of them, wearing a red mask, turned to look at her. Who, us?     Yes, you! Stay out of that street. Go on down that way.     The subway's this way, objected the kid in the red mask.     Who cares? You go around the other way.  <doc-sep>The third planet was a blank, gleaming ball until they were in close,and then the blankness resolved into folds and piling clouds and dimly,in places, the surface showed through. The ship went down through theclouds, falling the last few miles on her brakers. They came into themisty gas below, leveled off and moved along the edge of the twilightzone.     The moons of this solar system had yielded nothing. The third planet, ahot, heavy world which had no free oxygen and from which the monitorshad detected nothing, was all that was left. Steffens expected nothing,but he had to try.     At a height of several miles, the ship moved up the zone, scanning,moving in the familiar slow spiral of the Mapping Command. Faint darkoutlines of bare rocks and hills moved by below.     Steffens turned the screen to full magnification and watched silently.     After a while he saw a city.     The main screen being on, the whole crew saw it. Someone shouted andthey stopped to stare, and Steffens was about to call for altitude whenhe saw that the city was dead.     He looked down on splintered walls that were like cloudy glass piecesrising above a plain, rising in a shattered circle. Near the centerof the city, there was a huge, charred hole at least three miles indiameter and very deep. In all the piled rubble, nothing moved.     Steffens went down low to make sure, then brought the ship around andheaded out across the main continent into the bright area of the sun.The rocks rolled by below, there was no vegetation at all, and thenthere were more cities—all with the black depression, the circularstamp that blotted away and fused the buildings into nothing.     No one on the ship had anything to say. None had ever seen a war, forthere had not been war on Earth or near it for more than three hundredyears.     The ship circled around to the dark side of the planet. When they weredown below a mile, the radiation counters began to react. It becameapparent, from the dials, that there could be nothing alive.     After a while Ball said: Well, which do you figure? Did our friendsfrom the fourth planet do this, or were they the same people as these?     Steffens did not take his eyes from the screen. They were coming aroundto the daylight side.     We'll go down and look for the answer, he said. Break out theradiation suits.     He paused, thinking. If the ones on the fourth planet were alien tothis world, they were from outer space, could not have come from oneof the other planets here. They had starships and were warlike. Then,thousands of years ago. He began to realize how important it really wasthat Ball's question be answered.     When the ship had gone very low, looking for a landing site, Steffenswas still by the screen. It was Steffens, then, who saw the thing move.     Down far below, it had been a still black shadow, and then it moved.Steffens froze. And he knew, even at that distance, that it was a robot.       Tiny and black, a mass of hanging arms and legs, the thing went glidingdown the slope of a hill. Steffens saw it clearly for a full second,saw the dull ball of its head tilt upward as the ship came over, andthen the hill was past.  <doc-sep>Noork paddled the long flat dugout strongly away from the twilightshore toward the shadowy loom of the central island. Though he couldnot remember ever having held a paddle before he handled the ungainlyblade well.     After a time the clumsy prow of the craft rammed into a yieldingcushion of mud, and Noork pulled the dugout out of the water into theroofing shelter of a clump of drooping trees growing at the water'sedge.     Sword in hand he pushed inward from the shore and ended with asmothered exclamation against an unseen wall. Trees grew close up tothe wall and a moment later he had climbed out along a horizontalbranch beyond the wall's top, and was lowering his body with the aid ofa braided leather rope to the ground beyond.     He was in a cultivated field his feet and hands told him. And perhapshalf a mile away, faintly illumined by torches and red clots ofbonfires, towered a huge weathered white skull!     Secure in the knowledge that he wore the invisible robes of a MistyOne he found a solitary tree growing within the wall and climbed to acomfortable crotch. In less than a minute he was asleep.     The new slave, a rough voice cut across his slumber abruptly, is thedaughter of Tholon Dist the merchant.     Noork was fully awake now. They were speaking of Sarna. Her father'sname was Tholon Dist. It was early morning in the fields of the MistyOnes and he could see the two golden-skinned slaves who talked togetherbeneath his tree.     That matters not to the priests of Uzdon, the slighter of thetwo slaves, his hair almost white, said. If she be chosen for thesacrifice to great Uzdon her blood will stain the altar no redder thananother's.     But it is always the youngest and most beautiful, complained theyounger slave, that the priests chose. I wish to mate with a beautifulwoman. Tholon Sarna is such a one.     The old man chuckled dryly. If your wife be plain, he said, neithermaster nor fellow slave will steal her love. A slave should choose agood woman—and ugly, my son.     Some night, snarled the slave, I'm going over the wall. Even theMisty Ones will not catch me once I have crossed the lake.     Silence, hissed the white-haired man. Such talk is madness. We aresafe here from wild animals. There are no spotted narls on the islandof Manak. The priests of most holy Uzdon, and their invisible minions,are not unkind.     Get at your weeding of the field, Rold, he finished, and I willcomplete my checking of the gardens.     Noork waited until the old man was gone before he descended from thetree. He walked along the row until he reached the slave's bent back,and he knew by the sudden tightening of the man's shoulder musclesthat his presence was known. He looked down and saw that his feet madeclear-cut depressions in the soft rich soil of the field.       Continue to work, he said to the young man. Do not be too surprisedat what I am about to tell you, Rold. He paused and watched the goldenman's rather stupid face intently.     I am not a Misty One, Noork said. I killed the owner of this strangegarment I wear yesterday on the mainland. I have come to rescue thegirl, Tholon Sarna, of whom you spoke.     Rold's mouth hung open but his hard blunt fingers continued to work.The Misty Ones, then, he said slowly, are not immortal demons! Henodded his long-haired head. They are but men. They too can die.     If you will help me, Rold, said Noork, to rescue the girl and escapefrom the island I will take you along.     Rold was slow in answering. He had been born on the island and yet hispeople were from the valley city of Konto. He knew that they wouldwelcome the news that the Misty Ones were not demons. And the girl fromthe enemy city of Grath was beautiful. Perhaps she would love him forhelping to rescue her and come willingly with him to Konto.     I will help you, stranger, he agreed.     Then tell me of the Skull, and of the priests, and of the prison whereTholon Sarna is held.     The slave's fingers flew. All the young female slaves are cagedtogether in the pit beneath the Skull. When the sun is directlyoverhead the High Priest will choose one of them for sacrifice tomighty Uzdon, most potent of all gods. And with the dawning of thenext day the chosen one will be bound across the altar before greatUzdon's image and her heart torn from her living breast. The slave'smismatched eyes, one blue and the other brown, lifted from his work.     Tholon Sarna is in the pit beneath the Temple with the other femaleslaves. And the Misty Ones stand guard over the entrance to the templepits.     It is enough, said Noork. I will go to rescue her now. Be preparedto join us as we return. I will have a robe for you if all goes well.     If you are captured, cried Rold nervously, you will not tell them Italked with you?     Noork laughed. You never saw me, he told the slave.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What role do the Misty Ones play in Raiders of the Second Moon?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in GALACTIC GHOST? [SEP] <s>   GALACTIC GHOST     By WALTER KUBILIUS     The Flying Dutchman of space was a harbinger     of death. But Willard wasn't superstitions.     He had seen the phantom—and lived.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Winter 1942.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The only friend in space Willard had ever known was dying. Dobbin'slips were parched and his breath came spasmodically. The tips of hisfingers that had so many times caressed the control board of the      MaryLou     were now black as meteor dust.     We'll never see Earth again, he whispered feebly, plucked weakly atthe cover.     Nonsense! Willard broke in hurriedly, hoping that the dying manwould not see through the lie. We've got the sun's gravity helpingus drift back to Earth! We'll be there soon! You'll get well soon andwe'll start to work again on a new idea of mine.... His voice trailedhelplessly away and the words were lost. It was no use.     The sick man did not hear him. Two tears rolled down his cheeks. Hisface contorted as he tried to withhold a sob.     To see Earth again! he said weakly. To walk on solid ground oncemore!     Four years! Willard echoed faintly. He knew how his space mate felt.No man can spend four years away from his home planet, and fail to beanguished. A man could live without friends, without fortune, but noman could live without Earth. He was like Anteus, for only the feel ofthe solid ground under his feet could give him courage to go among thestars.     Willard also knew what he dared not admit to himself. He, too, likeDobbin, would never see Earth again. Perhaps, some thousand years fromnow, some lonely wanderers would find their battered hulk of a ship inspace and bring them home again.     Dobbin motioned to him and, in answer to a last request, Willard liftedhim so he faced the port window for a final look at the panorama of thestars.     Dobbin's eyes, dimming and half closed, took in the vast play of theheavens and in his mind he relived the days when in a frail craft hefirst crossed interstellar space. But for Earth-loneliness Dobbin woulddie a happy man, knowing that he had lived as much and as deeply as anyman could.     Silently the two men watched. Dobbin's eyes opened suddenly and atremor seized his body. He turned painfully and looked at Willard.     I saw it! his voice cracked, trembling.     Saw what?     It's true! It's true! It comes whenever a space man dies! It's there!     In heaven's name, Dobbin, Willard demanded, What do you see? What isit?     Dobbin lifted his dark bony arm and pointed out into star-studdedspace.     The Ghost Ship!     Something clicked in Willard's memory. He had heard it spoken of inwhispers by drunken space men and professional tellers of fairy tales.But he had never put any stock in them. In some forgotten corner ofDobbin's mind the legend of the Ghost Ship must have lain, to come upin this time of delirium.     There's nothing there, he said firmly.     It's come—for me! Dobbin cried. He turned his head slowly towardWillard, tried to say something and then fell back upon the pillow. Hismouth was open and his eyes stared unseeing ahead. Dobbin was now onewith the vanished pioneers of yesterday. Willard was alone.     For two days, reckoned in Earth time, Willard kept vigil over the bodyof his friend and space mate. When the time was up he did what wasnecessary and nothing remained of Harry Dobbin, the best friend he hadever had. The atoms of his body were now pure energy stored away in theuseless motors of the      Mary Lou     .  <doc-sep>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>Seven years passed and back on Earth in a small newspaper that Willardwould never see there was published a small item:           Arden, Rocketport     —Thirteen years ago the Space Ship      Mary Lou     under John Willard and Larry Dobbin left the Rocket Port for theexploration of an alleged planetoid beyond Pluto. The ship has not beenseen or heard from since. J. Willard, II, son of the lost explorer, isplanning the manufacture of a super-size exploration ship to be called      Mary Lou II     , in memory of his father.     Memories die hard. A man who is alone in space with nothing but thecold friendship of star-light looks back upon memories as the onlythings both dear and precious to him.     Willard, master and lone survivor of the      Mary Lou     , knew this well forhe had tried to rip the memories of Earth out of his heart to ease theanguish of solitude within him. But it was a thing that could not bedone.     And so it was that each night—for Willard did not give up theEarth-habit of keeping time—Willard dreamed of the days he had knownon Earth.     In his mind's eye, he saw himself walking the streets of Arden andfeeling the crunch of snow or the soft slap of rainwater under hisfeet. He heard again, in his mind, the voices of friends he knew.How beautiful and perfect was each voice! How filled with warmth andfriendship! There was the voice of his beautiful wife whom he wouldnever see again. There were the gruff and deep voices of his co-workersand scientists.     Above all there were the voices of the cities, and the fields and theshops where he had worked. All these had their individual voices. Oddthat he had never realized it before, but things become clearer to aman who is alone.     Clearer? Perhaps not. Perhaps they become more clouded. How could he,for example, explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it reallyonly a product of his imagination? What of all the others who hadseen it? Was it possible for many different men under many differentsituations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. Butperhaps space itself denies reason.     Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase hereand a story there put together all that he knew:     Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the GhostShip haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is itstragedy, for it is the home of spacemen who can never go home again.When your last measure of fuel is burnt and your ship becomes alifeless hulk—the Ghost will come—for you!     And this is all there was to the legend. Merely a tale of some fairyship told to amuse and to while away the days of a star-voyage.Bitterly, Willard dismissed it from his mind.     Another year of loneliness passed. And still another. Willard losttrack of the days. It was difficult to keep time for to what purposecould time be kept. Here in space there was no time, nor was therereason for clocks and records. Days and months and years becamemeaningless words for things that once may have had meaning. Aboutthree years must have passed since his last record in the log bookof the      Mary Lou     . At that time, he remembered, he suffered anothergreat disappointment. On the port side there suddenly appeared afull-sized rocket ship. For many minutes Willard was half-mad withjoy thinking that a passing ship was ready to rescue him. But the joywas short-lived, for the rocket ship abruptly turned away and slowlydisappeared. As Willard watched it go away he saw the light of adistant star      through     the space ship. A heart-breaking agony fell uponhim. It was not a ship from Earth. It was the Ghost Ship, mocking him.     Since then Willard did not look out the window of his craft. A vaguefear troubled him that perhaps the Ghost Ship might be here, waitingand watching, and that he would go mad if he saw it.     How many years passed he could not tell. But this he knew. He was nolonger a young man. Perhaps fifteen years has disappeared into nothing.Perhaps twenty. He did not know and he did not care.  <doc-sep>The weeks that followed were like a blur in Willard's mind. Though theship was utterly incapable of motion, the chance meteor that damagedit had spared the convertors and assimilators. Through constant careand attention the frail balance that meant life or death could be kept.The substance of waste and refuse was torn down and rebuilt as preciousfood and air. It was even possible to create more than was needed.     When this was done, Willard immediately regretted it. For it would bethen that the days and the weeks would roll by endlessly. Sometimeshe thought he would go mad when, sitting at the useless controlboard, which was his habit, he would stare for hours and hours inthe direction of the Sun where he knew the Earth would be. A greatloneliness would then seize upon him and an agony that no man had everknown would tear at his heart. He would then turn away, full of despairand hopeless pain.     Two years after Dobbin's death a strange thing happened. Willard wassitting at his accustomed place facing the unmoving vista of the stars.A chance glance at Orion's belt froze him still. A star had flickered!Distinctly, as if a light veil had been placed over it and then lifted,it dimmed and turned bright again. What strange phenomena was this? Hewatched and then another star faded momentarily in the exact fashion.And then a third! And a fourth! And a fifth!     Willard's heart gave a leap and the lethargy of two years vanishedinstantly. Here, at last, was something to do. It might be only a fewminutes before he would understand what it was, but those few minuteswould help while away the maddening long hours. Perhaps it was a massof fine meteorites or a pocket of gas that did not disperse, or even amoving warp of space-light. Whatever it was, it was a phenomena worthinvestigating and Willard seized upon it as a dying man seizes upon thelast flashing seconds of life.     Willard traced its course by the flickering stars and gradually plottedits semi-circular course. It was not from the solar system but,instead, headed toward it. A rapid check-up on his calculations causedhis heart to beat in ever quickening excitement. Whatever it was, itwould reach the      Mary Lou     .     Again he looked out the port. Unquestionably the faint mass was nearinghis ship. It was round in shape and almost invisible. The stars,though dimmed, could still be seen through it. There was somethingabout its form that reminded him of an old-fashioned rocket ship. Itresembled one of those that had done pioneer service in the lanes fortyyears ago or more. Resembled one? It was one! Unquestionably, thoughhalf-invisible and like a piece of glass immersed in water, it was arocket ship.     But the instruments on the control board could not lie. The presence ofany material body within a hundred thousand miles would be revealed.But the needle on the gauge did not quiver. Nothing indicated thepresence of a ship. But the evidence of his eyes was incontestable.     Or was it? Doubt gripped him. Did the loneliness of all these yearsin space twist his mind till he was imagining the appearance of faintghost-like rocket ships?     The thought shot through his mind like a thunder bolt. Ghost Ship!Was this the thing that Dobbin had seen before he died? But that wasimpossible. Ghost Ships existed nowhere but in legends and tall talestold by men drunk with the liquors of Mars.     There is no ship there. There is no ship there, Willard told himselfover and over again as he looked at the vague outline of the ship, nowmotionless a few hundred miles away.     Deep within him a faint voice cried,       It's come—for me!      but Willardstilled it. This was no fantasy. There was a scientific reason for it.There must be! Or should there be? Throughout all Earth history therehad been Ghost Ships sailing the Seven Seas—ships doomed to roamforever because their crew broke some unbreakable law. If this was truefor the ships of the seas, why not for the ships of empty space?     He looked again at the strange ship. It was motionless. At least it wasnot nearing him. Willard could see nothing but its vague outline. Amoment later he could discern a faint motion. It was turning! The GhostShip was turning back! Unconsciously Willard reached out with his handas if to hold it back, for when it was gone he would be alone again.     But the Ghost Ship went on. Its outline became smaller and smaller,fainter and fainter.     Trembling, Willard turned away from the window as he saw the rocketrecede and vanish into the emptiness of space. Once more the dreadedloneliness of the stars descended upon him.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep> id=chap01>  CHAPTER I   An Unsolved Mystery    “Tell Judy about it,” begged Lois. “Please, Lorraine,it can’t be as bad as it appears. There isn’tanything that Judy can’t solve.”     Lorraine tilted her head disdainfully. “We’re sistersnow. We’re both Farringdon-Petts and should beloyal to each other. But you always did take Judy’spart. She was the one who nearly spoiled our doublewedding trying to solve a mystery. I don’t believeshe’d understand—understand any better than I do.Everyone has problems, and I’m sure Judy is noexception.”     “You’re right, Lorraine,” announced Judy, comingin to serve dessert to the two friends she had invitedfor lunch at Peter’s suggestion. “I do haveproblems, and there are plenty of mysteries I can’tsolve.”     “Name one,” charged Lois. “Just mention onesingle spooky thing you couldn’t explain, and I’llbelieve you. I’ve seen you in action, Judy Bolton—”     “Judy Dobbs, remember?”     “Well, you were Judy Bolton when you solvedall those mysteries. I met you when the wholevalley below the big Roulsville dam was threatenedby flood and you solved that—”     “That,” declared Judy, “was my brother Horace,not me. He was the hero without even meaning tobe. He was the one who rode through town andwarned people that the flood was coming. I was offchasing a shadow.”     “A vanishing shadow,” Lois said with a sigh.“What you did wasn’t easy, Judy.”     “It didn’t need to be as hard as it was,” Judy confessed.“I know now that keeping that promise notto talk about the dam was a great big mistake andcould have cost lives. I should have told Arthur.”     “Please,” Lorraine said, a pained expression cloudingher pretty face, “let’s not talk about him now.”     “Very well,” Judy agreed. “What shall we talkabout?”     “You,” Lois said, “and all the mysteries you’vesolved. Maybe you were mistaken about a thing ortwo before the flood, but what about the haunted  house you moved into? You were the one whotracked down the ghosts in the attic and the cellarand goodness knows where all. You’ve been chasingghosts ever since I met you, and not one of them didyou fail to explain in some sensible, logical fashion.”     “Before I met you,” Judy said, thinking back,“there were plenty of them I couldn’t explain. Therewas one I used to call the spirit of the fountain, butwhat she was or how she spoke to me is more thanI know. If my grandparents knew, they weren’t telling.And now they’re both dead and I can’t ask them.They left me a lot of unsolved mysteries along withthis house. Maybe I’ll find the answers to some ofthem when I finish sorting Grandma’s things. They’restored in one end of the attic.”     “Another haunted attic? How thrilling!” exclaimedLois. “Why don’t you have another ghost party andshow up the spooks?”     “I didn’t say the attic was haunted.”     Judy was almost sorry she had mentioned it. Shewasn’t in the mood for digging up old mysteries,but Lois and Lorraine insisted. It all began, she finallytold them, the summer before they met. Horacehad just started working on the paper. Judy rememberedthat it was Lorraine’s father, Richard ThorntonLee, who gave him his job with the      FarringdonDaily Herald     . He had turned in some interestingchurch news, convincing Mr. Lee that he had in him  the makings of a good reporter. And so it was thathe spent the summer Judy was remembering in Farringdonwhere the Farringdon-Petts had their turretedmansion, while she had to suffer the heat andloneliness of Dry Brook Hollow.     Her thoughts were what had made it so hard, sheconfessed now as she reviewed everything that hadhappened. She just couldn’t help resenting the factthat her parents left her every summer while theywent off on a vacation by themselves. What did theythink she would do?     “You’ll have plenty to read,” her father had toldher. “I bought you six new books in that mysteryseries you like. When they’re finished there areplenty of short stories around. Your grandmothernever throws anything away. She has magazines she’ssaved since your mother was a girl. If you ask forthem she’ll let you have the whole stack. I know howyou love to read.”     “I do, Dad, but if the magazines are that old—”     Judy had stopped. She had seen her father’s tiredeyes and had realized that a busy doctor needed avacation much more than a schoolgirl who had toolittle to do. He and Judy’s mother usually went tothe beach hotel where they had honeymooned. Itwas a precious memory. Every summer Dr. Boltonand his wife relived it. And every summer Judywent to stay with her grandmother Smeed, whoscolded and fussed and tried to pretend she wasn’tglad to have her.     “You here again?” she had greeted her that summer,and Judy hadn’t noticed her old eyes twinklingbehind her glasses. “What do you propose to do withyourself this time?”     “Read,” Judy had told her. “Mom and Dad sayyou have a whole stack of old magazines—”     “In the attic. Go up and look them over if youcan stand the heat.”     Judy went, not to look over the old magazines somuch as to escape to a place where she could have agood cry. It was the summer before her fifteenthbirthday. In another year she would have outgrownher childish resentment of her parents’ vacation orbe grown up enough to ask them to let her have avacation of her own. In another year she wouldbe summering among the beautiful Thousand Islandsand solving a mystery to be known as the      GhostParade     .     “A whole parade of ghosts,” Lois would be tellingher, “and you solved everything.”     But then she didn’t even know Lois. She had noidea so many thrilling adventures awaited her. Thereseemed to be nothing—nothing—and so the tearscame and spilled over on one of the magazines. AsJudy wiped it away she noticed that it had fallenon a picture of a fountain.     “A fountain with tears for water. How strange!”she remembered saying aloud.     Judy had never seen a real fountain. The thrill ofwalking up to the door of the palatial Farringdon-Pettmansion was still ahead of her. On the lawn afountain still caught and held rainbows like thoseshe was to see on her honeymoon at Niagara Falls.But all that was in the future. If anyone had toldthe freckled-faced, pigtailed girl that she would oneday marry Peter Dobbs, she would have laughed intheir faces.     “That tease!”     For then she knew Peter only as an older boy whoused to tease her and call her carrot-top until one dayshe yelled back at him, “Carrot-tops are green and soare you!”     Peter was to win Judy’s heart when he gave her akitten and suggested the name Blackberry for him.The kitten was now a dignified family cat. But thesummer Judy found the picture of a fountain andspilled tears on it she had no kitten. She had nothing,she confessed, not even a friend. It had helped topretend the fountain in the picture was filled withall the tears lonely girls like herself had ever cried.     “But that would make it enchanted!” she had suddenlyexclaimed. “If I could find it I’d wish—”     A step had sounded on the stairs. Judy rememberedit distinctly. She had turned to see her grandmother  and to hear her say in her usual abrupt fashion,“Enchanted fountain, indeed! If you let peopleknow your wishes instead of muttering them toyourself, most of them aren’t so impossible.”     “Were they?” asked Lois.     She and Lorraine had listened to this much of whatJudy was telling them without interruption.     “That’s the unsolved mystery,” Judy replied.“There weren’t any of them impossible.”     And she went on to tell them how, the very nextday, her grandparents had taken her to a fountainexactly like the one in the picture. It was in the centerof a deep, circular pool with steps leading up to it.Beside the steps were smaller fountains with thewater spurting from the mouths of stone lions. Judyhad stared at them a moment and then climbed thesteps to the pool.     “Am I dreaming?” she remembered saying aloud.“Is this beautiful fountain real?”     A voice had answered, although she could see noone.     “Make your wishes, Judy. Wish wisely. If youshed a tear in the fountain your wishes will surelycome true.”     “A tear?” Judy had asked. “How can I shed atear when I’m happy? This is a wonderful place.”     “Shed a tear in the fountain and your wishes willsurely come true,” the voice had repeated.     “But what is there to cry about?”     “You found plenty to cry about back at yourgrandmother’s house,” the mysterious voice had remindedher. “Weren’t you crying on my picture upthere in the attic?”     “Then you—you      are     the fountain!” Judy rememberedexclaiming. “But a fountain doesn’t speak. Itdoesn’t have a voice.”     “Wish wisely,” the voice from the fountain hadsaid in a mysterious whisper.   <doc-sep>Willard awoke from a deep sleep and prepared his bed. He did it, notbecause it was necessary, but because it was a habit that had long beeningrained in him through the years.     He checked and rechecked every part of the still functioning mechanismof the ship. The radio, even though there was no one to call, was inperfect order. The speed-recording dials, even though there was nospeed to record, were in perfect order. And so with every machine. Allwas in perfect order. Perfect useless order, he thought bitterly, whenthere was no way whatever to get sufficient power to get back to Earth,long forgotten Earth.     He was leaning back in his chair when a vague uneasiness seized him.He arose and slowly walked over to the window, his age already beingmarked in the ache of his bones. Looking out into the silent theater ofthe stars, he suddenly froze.     There was a ship, coming toward him!     For a moment the reason in his mind tottered on a balance. Doubtassailed him. Was this the Ghost Ship come to torment him again? But nophantom this! It was a life and blood rocket ship from Earth! Starlightshone on it and not through it! Its lines, window, vents were all solidand had none of the ghost-like quality he remembered seeing in theGhost Ship in his youth.       For another split second he thought that perhaps he, too, like Dobbin,had gone mad and that the ship would vanish just as it approached him.     The tapping of the space-telegrapher reassured him.     CALLING SPACE SHIP MARY LOU, the message rapped out, CALLING SPACESHIP MARY LOU.     With trembling fingers that he could scarcely control, old Willard sentthe answering message.     SPACE SHIP MARY LOU REPLYING. RECEIVED MESSAGE. THANK GOD!     He broke off, unable to continue. His heart was ready to burst withinhim and the tears of joy were already welling in his eyes. He listenedto the happiest message he had ever heard:     NOTICE THAT SPACE SHIP MARY LOU IS DISABLED AND NOT SPACE WORTHY. YOUARE INVITED TO COME ABOARD. HAVE YOU SPACE SUIT AND—ARE YOU ABLE TOCOME?     Willard, already sobbing with joy, could send only two words.     YES! COMING!     The years of waiting were over. At last he was free of the      Mary Lou     .In a dream like trance, he dressed in his space suit, patheticallyglad that he had already checked every detail of it a short time ago.He realized suddenly that everything about the      Mary Lou     was hateful tohim. It was here that his best friend died, and it was here that twentyyears of his life were wasted completely in solitude and despair.     He took one last look and stepped into the air-lock.     The Earth-ship, he did not see its name, was only a hundred yards awayand a man was already at the air-lock waiting to help him. A rope wastossed to him. He reached for it and made his way to the ship, leavingthe      Mary Lou     behind him forever.     Suddenly the world dropped away from him. Willard could neither see norsay anything. His heart was choked with emotion.     It's all right, a kindly voice assured him, You're safe now.     He had the sensation of being carried by several men and then placed inbed. The quiet of deep sleep descended upon him.  <doc-sep>He awoke with a start and a cry of alarm ran through him as he thoughtthat perhaps he might still be in the      Mary Lou     . The warm, smiling faceof a man quickly reassured him.     I'll call the captain, the space man said. He said to let him knowwhen you came to.     Willard could only nod in weak and grateful acceptance. It was true! Hepressed his head back against the bed's pillows. How soft! How warm! Heyawned and stretched his arms as a thrill of happiness shot through hisentire body.     He would see Earth again! That single thought ran over and over in hismind without stopping. He would see Earth again! Perhaps not this yearand perhaps not the next—for the ship might be on some extra-Plutonianexpedition. But even if it would take years before it returned to homebase Willard knew that those years would fly quickly if Earth was atthe end of the trail.     Though he had aged, he still had many years before him. And thoseyears, he vowed, would be spent on Earth and nowhere else.     The captain, a pleasant old fellow, came into the room as Willard stoodup and tried to walk. The gravity here was a bit different from that ofhis ship, but he would manage.     How do you feel, Space Man Willard?     Oh, you know me? Willard looked at him in surprise, and then smiled,Of course, you looked through the log book of the      Mary Lou     .     The captain nodded and Willard noticed with surprise that he was a veryold man.     You don't know how much I suffered there, Willard said slowly,measuring each word. Years in space—all alone! It's a horrible thing!     Yes? the old captain said.     Many times I thought I would go completely mad. It was only thethought and hope that some day, somehow, an Earth-ship would find meand help me get back to Earth. If it was not for that, I would havedied. I could think of nothing but of Earth, of blue green water, ofvast open spaces and the good brown earth. How beautiful it must benow!     A note of sadness, matched only by that of Willard's, entered thecaptain's eyes.     I want to walk on Earth just once—then I can die.     Willard stopped. A happy dreamy smile touched his lips.     When will we go to Earth? he asked.     The Captain did not answer. Willard waited and a strange memory tuggedat him.     You don't know, the Captain said. It was not a question or astatement. The Captain found it hard to say it. His lips moved slowly.     Willard stepped back and before the Captain told him,      he knew     .     Matter is relative, he said, the existent under one condition isnon-existent under another. The real here is the non-real there. Allthings that wander alone in space are gradually drained of their massand energy until nothing is left but mere shells. That is what happenedto the      Mary Lou     . Your ship was real when we passed by twenty yearsago. It is now like ours, a vague outline in space. We cannot feelthe change ourselves, for change is relative. That is why we becamemore and more solid to you, as you became more and more faint to anyEarth-ship that might have passed. We are real—to ourselves. But tosome ship from Earth which has not been in space for more than fifteenyears—to that ship, to all intents and purposes, we do not exist.     Then this ship, Willard said, stunned, you and I and everything onit...     ... are doomed, the Captain said. We cannot go to Earth for thesimple reason that we would go      through     it!     The vision of Earth and green trees faded. He would never see Earthagain. He would never feel the crunch of ground under feet as hewalked. Never would listen to the voices of friends and the songs ofbirds. Never. Never. Never....     Then this is the Ghost Ship and we are the Ghosts!     Yes.   <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in GALACTIC GHOST?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What role do memories play in GALACTIC GHOST? [SEP] <s>   GALACTIC GHOST     By WALTER KUBILIUS     The Flying Dutchman of space was a harbinger     of death. But Willard wasn't superstitions.     He had seen the phantom—and lived.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Winter 1942.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The only friend in space Willard had ever known was dying. Dobbin'slips were parched and his breath came spasmodically. The tips of hisfingers that had so many times caressed the control board of the      MaryLou     were now black as meteor dust.     We'll never see Earth again, he whispered feebly, plucked weakly atthe cover.     Nonsense! Willard broke in hurriedly, hoping that the dying manwould not see through the lie. We've got the sun's gravity helpingus drift back to Earth! We'll be there soon! You'll get well soon andwe'll start to work again on a new idea of mine.... His voice trailedhelplessly away and the words were lost. It was no use.     The sick man did not hear him. Two tears rolled down his cheeks. Hisface contorted as he tried to withhold a sob.     To see Earth again! he said weakly. To walk on solid ground oncemore!     Four years! Willard echoed faintly. He knew how his space mate felt.No man can spend four years away from his home planet, and fail to beanguished. A man could live without friends, without fortune, but noman could live without Earth. He was like Anteus, for only the feel ofthe solid ground under his feet could give him courage to go among thestars.     Willard also knew what he dared not admit to himself. He, too, likeDobbin, would never see Earth again. Perhaps, some thousand years fromnow, some lonely wanderers would find their battered hulk of a ship inspace and bring them home again.     Dobbin motioned to him and, in answer to a last request, Willard liftedhim so he faced the port window for a final look at the panorama of thestars.     Dobbin's eyes, dimming and half closed, took in the vast play of theheavens and in his mind he relived the days when in a frail craft hefirst crossed interstellar space. But for Earth-loneliness Dobbin woulddie a happy man, knowing that he had lived as much and as deeply as anyman could.     Silently the two men watched. Dobbin's eyes opened suddenly and atremor seized his body. He turned painfully and looked at Willard.     I saw it! his voice cracked, trembling.     Saw what?     It's true! It's true! It comes whenever a space man dies! It's there!     In heaven's name, Dobbin, Willard demanded, What do you see? What isit?     Dobbin lifted his dark bony arm and pointed out into star-studdedspace.     The Ghost Ship!     Something clicked in Willard's memory. He had heard it spoken of inwhispers by drunken space men and professional tellers of fairy tales.But he had never put any stock in them. In some forgotten corner ofDobbin's mind the legend of the Ghost Ship must have lain, to come upin this time of delirium.     There's nothing there, he said firmly.     It's come—for me! Dobbin cried. He turned his head slowly towardWillard, tried to say something and then fell back upon the pillow. Hismouth was open and his eyes stared unseeing ahead. Dobbin was now onewith the vanished pioneers of yesterday. Willard was alone.     For two days, reckoned in Earth time, Willard kept vigil over the bodyof his friend and space mate. When the time was up he did what wasnecessary and nothing remained of Harry Dobbin, the best friend he hadever had. The atoms of his body were now pure energy stored away in theuseless motors of the      Mary Lou     .  <doc-sep>Seven years passed and back on Earth in a small newspaper that Willardwould never see there was published a small item:           Arden, Rocketport     —Thirteen years ago the Space Ship      Mary Lou     under John Willard and Larry Dobbin left the Rocket Port for theexploration of an alleged planetoid beyond Pluto. The ship has not beenseen or heard from since. J. Willard, II, son of the lost explorer, isplanning the manufacture of a super-size exploration ship to be called      Mary Lou II     , in memory of his father.     Memories die hard. A man who is alone in space with nothing but thecold friendship of star-light looks back upon memories as the onlythings both dear and precious to him.     Willard, master and lone survivor of the      Mary Lou     , knew this well forhe had tried to rip the memories of Earth out of his heart to ease theanguish of solitude within him. But it was a thing that could not bedone.     And so it was that each night—for Willard did not give up theEarth-habit of keeping time—Willard dreamed of the days he had knownon Earth.     In his mind's eye, he saw himself walking the streets of Arden andfeeling the crunch of snow or the soft slap of rainwater under hisfeet. He heard again, in his mind, the voices of friends he knew.How beautiful and perfect was each voice! How filled with warmth andfriendship! There was the voice of his beautiful wife whom he wouldnever see again. There were the gruff and deep voices of his co-workersand scientists.     Above all there were the voices of the cities, and the fields and theshops where he had worked. All these had their individual voices. Oddthat he had never realized it before, but things become clearer to aman who is alone.     Clearer? Perhaps not. Perhaps they become more clouded. How could he,for example, explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it reallyonly a product of his imagination? What of all the others who hadseen it? Was it possible for many different men under many differentsituations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. Butperhaps space itself denies reason.     Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase hereand a story there put together all that he knew:     Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the GhostShip haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is itstragedy, for it is the home of spacemen who can never go home again.When your last measure of fuel is burnt and your ship becomes alifeless hulk—the Ghost will come—for you!     And this is all there was to the legend. Merely a tale of some fairyship told to amuse and to while away the days of a star-voyage.Bitterly, Willard dismissed it from his mind.     Another year of loneliness passed. And still another. Willard losttrack of the days. It was difficult to keep time for to what purposecould time be kept. Here in space there was no time, nor was therereason for clocks and records. Days and months and years becamemeaningless words for things that once may have had meaning. Aboutthree years must have passed since his last record in the log bookof the      Mary Lou     . At that time, he remembered, he suffered anothergreat disappointment. On the port side there suddenly appeared afull-sized rocket ship. For many minutes Willard was half-mad withjoy thinking that a passing ship was ready to rescue him. But the joywas short-lived, for the rocket ship abruptly turned away and slowlydisappeared. As Willard watched it go away he saw the light of adistant star      through     the space ship. A heart-breaking agony fell uponhim. It was not a ship from Earth. It was the Ghost Ship, mocking him.     Since then Willard did not look out the window of his craft. A vaguefear troubled him that perhaps the Ghost Ship might be here, waitingand watching, and that he would go mad if he saw it.     How many years passed he could not tell. But this he knew. He was nolonger a young man. Perhaps fifteen years has disappeared into nothing.Perhaps twenty. He did not know and he did not care.  <doc-sep>Most of the cousins gasped as the truth began to percolate through.     I knew from the very beginning, Conrad finished, that I didn'thave to do anything at all. I just had to wait and you would destroyyourselves.     I don't understand, Bartholomew protested, searching the faces of thecousins closest to him. What does he mean, we have never existed?We're here, aren't we? What—     Shut up! Raymond snapped. He turned on Martin. You don't seemsurprised.     The old man grinned. I'm not. I figured it all out years ago.     At first, he had wondered what he should do. Would it be better tothrow them into a futile panic by telling them or to do nothing? Hehad decided on the latter; that was the role they had assigned him—towatch and wait and keep out of things—and that was the role he wouldplay.     You knew all the time and you didn't tell us! Raymond spluttered.After we'd been so good to you, making a gentleman out of you insteadof a criminal.... That's right, he snarled, a criminal! An alcoholic,a thief, a derelict! How do you like that?     Sounds like a rich, full life, Martin said wistfully.     What an exciting existence they must have done him out of! But then, hecouldn't help thinking, he—he and Conrad together, of course—had donethem out of      any     kind of existence. It wasn't his responsibility,though; he had done nothing but let matters take whatever course wasdestined for them. If only he could be sure that it was the bettercourse, perhaps he wouldn't feel that nagging sense of guilt insidehim. Strange—where, in his hermetic life, could he possibly havedeveloped such a queer thing as a conscience?     Then we've wasted all this time, Ninian sobbed, all this energy, allthis money, for nothing!     But you were nothing to begin with, Martin told them. And then,after a pause, he added, I only wish I could be sure there had beensome purpose to this.     He didn't know whether it was approaching death that dimmed his sight,or whether the frightened crowd that pressed around him was growingshadowy.     I wish I could feel that some good had been done in letting you bewiped out of existence, he went on voicing his thoughts. But I knowthat the same thing that happened to your worlds and my world willhappen all over again. To other people, in other times, but again. It'sbound to happen. There isn't any hope for humanity.     One man couldn't really change the course of human history, he toldhimself. Two men, that was—one real, one a shadow.     Conrad came close to the old man's bed. He was almost transparent.     No, he said, there is hope. They didn't know the time transmitterworks two ways. I used it for going into the past only once—just thisonce. But I've gone into the future with it many times. And— hepressed Martin's hand—believe me, what I did—what      we     did, you andI—serves a purpose. It will change things for the better. Everythingis going to be all right.  <doc-sep>He awoke with a start and a cry of alarm ran through him as he thoughtthat perhaps he might still be in the      Mary Lou     . The warm, smiling faceof a man quickly reassured him.     I'll call the captain, the space man said. He said to let him knowwhen you came to.     Willard could only nod in weak and grateful acceptance. It was true! Hepressed his head back against the bed's pillows. How soft! How warm! Heyawned and stretched his arms as a thrill of happiness shot through hisentire body.     He would see Earth again! That single thought ran over and over in hismind without stopping. He would see Earth again! Perhaps not this yearand perhaps not the next—for the ship might be on some extra-Plutonianexpedition. But even if it would take years before it returned to homebase Willard knew that those years would fly quickly if Earth was atthe end of the trail.     Though he had aged, he still had many years before him. And thoseyears, he vowed, would be spent on Earth and nowhere else.     The captain, a pleasant old fellow, came into the room as Willard stoodup and tried to walk. The gravity here was a bit different from that ofhis ship, but he would manage.     How do you feel, Space Man Willard?     Oh, you know me? Willard looked at him in surprise, and then smiled,Of course, you looked through the log book of the      Mary Lou     .     The captain nodded and Willard noticed with surprise that he was a veryold man.     You don't know how much I suffered there, Willard said slowly,measuring each word. Years in space—all alone! It's a horrible thing!     Yes? the old captain said.     Many times I thought I would go completely mad. It was only thethought and hope that some day, somehow, an Earth-ship would find meand help me get back to Earth. If it was not for that, I would havedied. I could think of nothing but of Earth, of blue green water, ofvast open spaces and the good brown earth. How beautiful it must benow!     A note of sadness, matched only by that of Willard's, entered thecaptain's eyes.     I want to walk on Earth just once—then I can die.     Willard stopped. A happy dreamy smile touched his lips.     When will we go to Earth? he asked.     The Captain did not answer. Willard waited and a strange memory tuggedat him.     You don't know, the Captain said. It was not a question or astatement. The Captain found it hard to say it. His lips moved slowly.     Willard stepped back and before the Captain told him,      he knew     .     Matter is relative, he said, the existent under one condition isnon-existent under another. The real here is the non-real there. Allthings that wander alone in space are gradually drained of their massand energy until nothing is left but mere shells. That is what happenedto the      Mary Lou     . Your ship was real when we passed by twenty yearsago. It is now like ours, a vague outline in space. We cannot feelthe change ourselves, for change is relative. That is why we becamemore and more solid to you, as you became more and more faint to anyEarth-ship that might have passed. We are real—to ourselves. But tosome ship from Earth which has not been in space for more than fifteenyears—to that ship, to all intents and purposes, we do not exist.     Then this ship, Willard said, stunned, you and I and everything onit...     ... are doomed, the Captain said. We cannot go to Earth for thesimple reason that we would go      through     it!     The vision of Earth and green trees faded. He would never see Earthagain. He would never feel the crunch of ground under feet as hewalked. Never would listen to the voices of friends and the songs ofbirds. Never. Never. Never....     Then this is the Ghost Ship and we are the Ghosts!     Yes.   <doc-sep> id=chap01>  CHAPTER I   An Unsolved Mystery    “Tell Judy about it,” begged Lois. “Please, Lorraine,it can’t be as bad as it appears. There isn’tanything that Judy can’t solve.”     Lorraine tilted her head disdainfully. “We’re sistersnow. We’re both Farringdon-Petts and should beloyal to each other. But you always did take Judy’spart. She was the one who nearly spoiled our doublewedding trying to solve a mystery. I don’t believeshe’d understand—understand any better than I do.Everyone has problems, and I’m sure Judy is noexception.”     “You’re right, Lorraine,” announced Judy, comingin to serve dessert to the two friends she had invitedfor lunch at Peter’s suggestion. “I do haveproblems, and there are plenty of mysteries I can’tsolve.”     “Name one,” charged Lois. “Just mention onesingle spooky thing you couldn’t explain, and I’llbelieve you. I’ve seen you in action, Judy Bolton—”     “Judy Dobbs, remember?”     “Well, you were Judy Bolton when you solvedall those mysteries. I met you when the wholevalley below the big Roulsville dam was threatenedby flood and you solved that—”     “That,” declared Judy, “was my brother Horace,not me. He was the hero without even meaning tobe. He was the one who rode through town andwarned people that the flood was coming. I was offchasing a shadow.”     “A vanishing shadow,” Lois said with a sigh.“What you did wasn’t easy, Judy.”     “It didn’t need to be as hard as it was,” Judy confessed.“I know now that keeping that promise notto talk about the dam was a great big mistake andcould have cost lives. I should have told Arthur.”     “Please,” Lorraine said, a pained expression cloudingher pretty face, “let’s not talk about him now.”     “Very well,” Judy agreed. “What shall we talkabout?”     “You,” Lois said, “and all the mysteries you’vesolved. Maybe you were mistaken about a thing ortwo before the flood, but what about the haunted  house you moved into? You were the one whotracked down the ghosts in the attic and the cellarand goodness knows where all. You’ve been chasingghosts ever since I met you, and not one of them didyou fail to explain in some sensible, logical fashion.”     “Before I met you,” Judy said, thinking back,“there were plenty of them I couldn’t explain. Therewas one I used to call the spirit of the fountain, butwhat she was or how she spoke to me is more thanI know. If my grandparents knew, they weren’t telling.And now they’re both dead and I can’t ask them.They left me a lot of unsolved mysteries along withthis house. Maybe I’ll find the answers to some ofthem when I finish sorting Grandma’s things. They’restored in one end of the attic.”     “Another haunted attic? How thrilling!” exclaimedLois. “Why don’t you have another ghost party andshow up the spooks?”     “I didn’t say the attic was haunted.”     Judy was almost sorry she had mentioned it. Shewasn’t in the mood for digging up old mysteries,but Lois and Lorraine insisted. It all began, she finallytold them, the summer before they met. Horacehad just started working on the paper. Judy rememberedthat it was Lorraine’s father, Richard ThorntonLee, who gave him his job with the      FarringdonDaily Herald     . He had turned in some interestingchurch news, convincing Mr. Lee that he had in him  the makings of a good reporter. And so it was thathe spent the summer Judy was remembering in Farringdonwhere the Farringdon-Petts had their turretedmansion, while she had to suffer the heat andloneliness of Dry Brook Hollow.     Her thoughts were what had made it so hard, sheconfessed now as she reviewed everything that hadhappened. She just couldn’t help resenting the factthat her parents left her every summer while theywent off on a vacation by themselves. What did theythink she would do?     “You’ll have plenty to read,” her father had toldher. “I bought you six new books in that mysteryseries you like. When they’re finished there areplenty of short stories around. Your grandmothernever throws anything away. She has magazines she’ssaved since your mother was a girl. If you ask forthem she’ll let you have the whole stack. I know howyou love to read.”     “I do, Dad, but if the magazines are that old—”     Judy had stopped. She had seen her father’s tiredeyes and had realized that a busy doctor needed avacation much more than a schoolgirl who had toolittle to do. He and Judy’s mother usually went tothe beach hotel where they had honeymooned. Itwas a precious memory. Every summer Dr. Boltonand his wife relived it. And every summer Judywent to stay with her grandmother Smeed, whoscolded and fussed and tried to pretend she wasn’tglad to have her.     “You here again?” she had greeted her that summer,and Judy hadn’t noticed her old eyes twinklingbehind her glasses. “What do you propose to do withyourself this time?”     “Read,” Judy had told her. “Mom and Dad sayyou have a whole stack of old magazines—”     “In the attic. Go up and look them over if youcan stand the heat.”     Judy went, not to look over the old magazines somuch as to escape to a place where she could have agood cry. It was the summer before her fifteenthbirthday. In another year she would have outgrownher childish resentment of her parents’ vacation orbe grown up enough to ask them to let her have avacation of her own. In another year she wouldbe summering among the beautiful Thousand Islandsand solving a mystery to be known as the      GhostParade     .     “A whole parade of ghosts,” Lois would be tellingher, “and you solved everything.”     But then she didn’t even know Lois. She had noidea so many thrilling adventures awaited her. Thereseemed to be nothing—nothing—and so the tearscame and spilled over on one of the magazines. AsJudy wiped it away she noticed that it had fallenon a picture of a fountain.     “A fountain with tears for water. How strange!”she remembered saying aloud.     Judy had never seen a real fountain. The thrill ofwalking up to the door of the palatial Farringdon-Pettmansion was still ahead of her. On the lawn afountain still caught and held rainbows like thoseshe was to see on her honeymoon at Niagara Falls.But all that was in the future. If anyone had toldthe freckled-faced, pigtailed girl that she would oneday marry Peter Dobbs, she would have laughed intheir faces.     “That tease!”     For then she knew Peter only as an older boy whoused to tease her and call her carrot-top until one dayshe yelled back at him, “Carrot-tops are green and soare you!”     Peter was to win Judy’s heart when he gave her akitten and suggested the name Blackberry for him.The kitten was now a dignified family cat. But thesummer Judy found the picture of a fountain andspilled tears on it she had no kitten. She had nothing,she confessed, not even a friend. It had helped topretend the fountain in the picture was filled withall the tears lonely girls like herself had ever cried.     “But that would make it enchanted!” she had suddenlyexclaimed. “If I could find it I’d wish—”     A step had sounded on the stairs. Judy rememberedit distinctly. She had turned to see her grandmother  and to hear her say in her usual abrupt fashion,“Enchanted fountain, indeed! If you let peopleknow your wishes instead of muttering them toyourself, most of them aren’t so impossible.”     “Were they?” asked Lois.     She and Lorraine had listened to this much of whatJudy was telling them without interruption.     “That’s the unsolved mystery,” Judy replied.“There weren’t any of them impossible.”     And she went on to tell them how, the very nextday, her grandparents had taken her to a fountainexactly like the one in the picture. It was in the centerof a deep, circular pool with steps leading up to it.Beside the steps were smaller fountains with thewater spurting from the mouths of stone lions. Judyhad stared at them a moment and then climbed thesteps to the pool.     “Am I dreaming?” she remembered saying aloud.“Is this beautiful fountain real?”     A voice had answered, although she could see noone.     “Make your wishes, Judy. Wish wisely. If youshed a tear in the fountain your wishes will surelycome true.”     “A tear?” Judy had asked. “How can I shed atear when I’m happy? This is a wonderful place.”     “Shed a tear in the fountain and your wishes willsurely come true,” the voice had repeated.     “But what is there to cry about?”     “You found plenty to cry about back at yourgrandmother’s house,” the mysterious voice had remindedher. “Weren’t you crying on my picture upthere in the attic?”     “Then you—you      are     the fountain!” Judy rememberedexclaiming. “But a fountain doesn’t speak. Itdoesn’t have a voice.”     “Wish wisely,” the voice from the fountain hadsaid in a mysterious whisper.   <doc-sep>The weeks that followed were like a blur in Willard's mind. Though theship was utterly incapable of motion, the chance meteor that damagedit had spared the convertors and assimilators. Through constant careand attention the frail balance that meant life or death could be kept.The substance of waste and refuse was torn down and rebuilt as preciousfood and air. It was even possible to create more than was needed.     When this was done, Willard immediately regretted it. For it would bethen that the days and the weeks would roll by endlessly. Sometimeshe thought he would go mad when, sitting at the useless controlboard, which was his habit, he would stare for hours and hours inthe direction of the Sun where he knew the Earth would be. A greatloneliness would then seize upon him and an agony that no man had everknown would tear at his heart. He would then turn away, full of despairand hopeless pain.     Two years after Dobbin's death a strange thing happened. Willard wassitting at his accustomed place facing the unmoving vista of the stars.A chance glance at Orion's belt froze him still. A star had flickered!Distinctly, as if a light veil had been placed over it and then lifted,it dimmed and turned bright again. What strange phenomena was this? Hewatched and then another star faded momentarily in the exact fashion.And then a third! And a fourth! And a fifth!     Willard's heart gave a leap and the lethargy of two years vanishedinstantly. Here, at last, was something to do. It might be only a fewminutes before he would understand what it was, but those few minuteswould help while away the maddening long hours. Perhaps it was a massof fine meteorites or a pocket of gas that did not disperse, or even amoving warp of space-light. Whatever it was, it was a phenomena worthinvestigating and Willard seized upon it as a dying man seizes upon thelast flashing seconds of life.     Willard traced its course by the flickering stars and gradually plottedits semi-circular course. It was not from the solar system but,instead, headed toward it. A rapid check-up on his calculations causedhis heart to beat in ever quickening excitement. Whatever it was, itwould reach the      Mary Lou     .     Again he looked out the port. Unquestionably the faint mass was nearinghis ship. It was round in shape and almost invisible. The stars,though dimmed, could still be seen through it. There was somethingabout its form that reminded him of an old-fashioned rocket ship. Itresembled one of those that had done pioneer service in the lanes fortyyears ago or more. Resembled one? It was one! Unquestionably, thoughhalf-invisible and like a piece of glass immersed in water, it was arocket ship.     But the instruments on the control board could not lie. The presence ofany material body within a hundred thousand miles would be revealed.But the needle on the gauge did not quiver. Nothing indicated thepresence of a ship. But the evidence of his eyes was incontestable.     Or was it? Doubt gripped him. Did the loneliness of all these yearsin space twist his mind till he was imagining the appearance of faintghost-like rocket ships?     The thought shot through his mind like a thunder bolt. Ghost Ship!Was this the thing that Dobbin had seen before he died? But that wasimpossible. Ghost Ships existed nowhere but in legends and tall talestold by men drunk with the liquors of Mars.     There is no ship there. There is no ship there, Willard told himselfover and over again as he looked at the vague outline of the ship, nowmotionless a few hundred miles away.     Deep within him a faint voice cried,       It's come—for me!      but Willardstilled it. This was no fantasy. There was a scientific reason for it.There must be! Or should there be? Throughout all Earth history therehad been Ghost Ships sailing the Seven Seas—ships doomed to roamforever because their crew broke some unbreakable law. If this was truefor the ships of the seas, why not for the ships of empty space?     He looked again at the strange ship. It was motionless. At least it wasnot nearing him. Willard could see nothing but its vague outline. Amoment later he could discern a faint motion. It was turning! The GhostShip was turning back! Unconsciously Willard reached out with his handas if to hold it back, for when it was gone he would be alone again.     But the Ghost Ship went on. Its outline became smaller and smaller,fainter and fainter.     Trembling, Willard turned away from the window as he saw the rocketrecede and vanish into the emptiness of space. Once more the dreadedloneliness of the stars descended upon him.  <doc-sep>She had finished. And now Cyril cleared his throat. Dear friends, wewere honored by your gracious invitation to visit this fair planet, andwe are honored now by the cordial reception you have given to us.     The crowd yoomped politely. After a slight start, Cyril went on,apparently deciding that applause was all that had been intended.     We feel quite sure that we are going to derive both pleasure andprofit from our stay here, and we promise to make our intensiveanalysis of your culture as painless as possible. We wish only to studyyour society, not to tamper with it in any way.       Ha, ha     , Skkiru said to himself.      Ha, ha, ha!       But why is it, Raoul whispered in Terran as he glanced around out ofthe corners of his eyes, that only the beggar wears mudshoes?     Shhh, Cyril hissed back. We'll find out later, when we'veestablished rapport. Don't be so impatient!     Bbulas gave a sickly smile. Skkiru could almost find it in his heartsto feel sorry for the man.     We have prepared our best hut for you, noble sirs, Bbulas said withgreat self-control, and, by happy chance, this very evening a smallbut unusually interesting ceremony will be held outside the temple. Wehope you will be able to attend. It is to be a rain dance.     Rain dance! Raoul pulled his macintosh together more tightly at thethroat. But why do you want rain? My faith, not only does it rain now,but the planet seems to be a veritable sea of mud. Not, of course, headded hurriedly as Cyril's reproachful eye caught his, that it is notattractive mud. Finest mud I have ever seen. Such texture, such color,such aroma!     Cyril nodded three times and gave an appreciative sniff.     But, Raoul went on, one can have too much of even such a good thingas mud....     The smile did not leave Bbulas' smooth face. Yes, of course, honorableTerrestrials. That is why we are holding this ceremony. It is not adance to bring on rain. It is a dance to      stop     rain.     He was pretty quick on the uptake, Skkiru had to concede. However,that was not enough. The man had no genuine organizational ability.In the time he'd had in which to plan and carry out a scheme forthe improvement of Snaddra, surely he could have done better thanthis high-school theocracy. For one thing, he could have apportionedthe various roles so that each person would be making a definitecontribution to the society, instead of creating some positions plums,like the priesthood, and others prunes, like the beggarship.     What kind of life was that for an active, ambitious young man, standingaround begging? And, moreover, from whom was Skkiru going to beg?Only the Earthmen, for the Snaddrath, no matter how much they threwthemselves into the spirit of their roles, could not be so carriedaway that they would give handouts to a young man whom they had beenaccustomed to see basking in the bosom of luxury.  <doc-sep>Willard awoke from a deep sleep and prepared his bed. He did it, notbecause it was necessary, but because it was a habit that had long beeningrained in him through the years.     He checked and rechecked every part of the still functioning mechanismof the ship. The radio, even though there was no one to call, was inperfect order. The speed-recording dials, even though there was nospeed to record, were in perfect order. And so with every machine. Allwas in perfect order. Perfect useless order, he thought bitterly, whenthere was no way whatever to get sufficient power to get back to Earth,long forgotten Earth.     He was leaning back in his chair when a vague uneasiness seized him.He arose and slowly walked over to the window, his age already beingmarked in the ache of his bones. Looking out into the silent theater ofthe stars, he suddenly froze.     There was a ship, coming toward him!     For a moment the reason in his mind tottered on a balance. Doubtassailed him. Was this the Ghost Ship come to torment him again? But nophantom this! It was a life and blood rocket ship from Earth! Starlightshone on it and not through it! Its lines, window, vents were all solidand had none of the ghost-like quality he remembered seeing in theGhost Ship in his youth.       For another split second he thought that perhaps he, too, like Dobbin,had gone mad and that the ship would vanish just as it approached him.     The tapping of the space-telegrapher reassured him.     CALLING SPACE SHIP MARY LOU, the message rapped out, CALLING SPACESHIP MARY LOU.     With trembling fingers that he could scarcely control, old Willard sentthe answering message.     SPACE SHIP MARY LOU REPLYING. RECEIVED MESSAGE. THANK GOD!     He broke off, unable to continue. His heart was ready to burst withinhim and the tears of joy were already welling in his eyes. He listenedto the happiest message he had ever heard:     NOTICE THAT SPACE SHIP MARY LOU IS DISABLED AND NOT SPACE WORTHY. YOUARE INVITED TO COME ABOARD. HAVE YOU SPACE SUIT AND—ARE YOU ABLE TOCOME?     Willard, already sobbing with joy, could send only two words.     YES! COMING!     The years of waiting were over. At last he was free of the      Mary Lou     .In a dream like trance, he dressed in his space suit, patheticallyglad that he had already checked every detail of it a short time ago.He realized suddenly that everything about the      Mary Lou     was hateful tohim. It was here that his best friend died, and it was here that twentyyears of his life were wasted completely in solitude and despair.     He took one last look and stepped into the air-lock.     The Earth-ship, he did not see its name, was only a hundred yards awayand a man was already at the air-lock waiting to help him. A rope wastossed to him. He reached for it and made his way to the ship, leavingthe      Mary Lou     behind him forever.     Suddenly the world dropped away from him. Willard could neither see norsay anything. His heart was choked with emotion.     It's all right, a kindly voice assured him, You're safe now.     He had the sensation of being carried by several men and then placed inbed. The quiet of deep sleep descended upon him.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What role do memories play in GALACTIC GHOST?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the fate of Larry Dobbin in GALACTIC GHOST? [SEP] <s>   GALACTIC GHOST     By WALTER KUBILIUS     The Flying Dutchman of space was a harbinger     of death. But Willard wasn't superstitions.     He had seen the phantom—and lived.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Winter 1942.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The only friend in space Willard had ever known was dying. Dobbin'slips were parched and his breath came spasmodically. The tips of hisfingers that had so many times caressed the control board of the      MaryLou     were now black as meteor dust.     We'll never see Earth again, he whispered feebly, plucked weakly atthe cover.     Nonsense! Willard broke in hurriedly, hoping that the dying manwould not see through the lie. We've got the sun's gravity helpingus drift back to Earth! We'll be there soon! You'll get well soon andwe'll start to work again on a new idea of mine.... His voice trailedhelplessly away and the words were lost. It was no use.     The sick man did not hear him. Two tears rolled down his cheeks. Hisface contorted as he tried to withhold a sob.     To see Earth again! he said weakly. To walk on solid ground oncemore!     Four years! Willard echoed faintly. He knew how his space mate felt.No man can spend four years away from his home planet, and fail to beanguished. A man could live without friends, without fortune, but noman could live without Earth. He was like Anteus, for only the feel ofthe solid ground under his feet could give him courage to go among thestars.     Willard also knew what he dared not admit to himself. He, too, likeDobbin, would never see Earth again. Perhaps, some thousand years fromnow, some lonely wanderers would find their battered hulk of a ship inspace and bring them home again.     Dobbin motioned to him and, in answer to a last request, Willard liftedhim so he faced the port window for a final look at the panorama of thestars.     Dobbin's eyes, dimming and half closed, took in the vast play of theheavens and in his mind he relived the days when in a frail craft hefirst crossed interstellar space. But for Earth-loneliness Dobbin woulddie a happy man, knowing that he had lived as much and as deeply as anyman could.     Silently the two men watched. Dobbin's eyes opened suddenly and atremor seized his body. He turned painfully and looked at Willard.     I saw it! his voice cracked, trembling.     Saw what?     It's true! It's true! It comes whenever a space man dies! It's there!     In heaven's name, Dobbin, Willard demanded, What do you see? What isit?     Dobbin lifted his dark bony arm and pointed out into star-studdedspace.     The Ghost Ship!     Something clicked in Willard's memory. He had heard it spoken of inwhispers by drunken space men and professional tellers of fairy tales.But he had never put any stock in them. In some forgotten corner ofDobbin's mind the legend of the Ghost Ship must have lain, to come upin this time of delirium.     There's nothing there, he said firmly.     It's come—for me! Dobbin cried. He turned his head slowly towardWillard, tried to say something and then fell back upon the pillow. Hismouth was open and his eyes stared unseeing ahead. Dobbin was now onewith the vanished pioneers of yesterday. Willard was alone.     For two days, reckoned in Earth time, Willard kept vigil over the bodyof his friend and space mate. When the time was up he did what wasnecessary and nothing remained of Harry Dobbin, the best friend he hadever had. The atoms of his body were now pure energy stored away in theuseless motors of the      Mary Lou     .  <doc-sep>Seven years passed and back on Earth in a small newspaper that Willardwould never see there was published a small item:           Arden, Rocketport     —Thirteen years ago the Space Ship      Mary Lou     under John Willard and Larry Dobbin left the Rocket Port for theexploration of an alleged planetoid beyond Pluto. The ship has not beenseen or heard from since. J. Willard, II, son of the lost explorer, isplanning the manufacture of a super-size exploration ship to be called      Mary Lou II     , in memory of his father.     Memories die hard. A man who is alone in space with nothing but thecold friendship of star-light looks back upon memories as the onlythings both dear and precious to him.     Willard, master and lone survivor of the      Mary Lou     , knew this well forhe had tried to rip the memories of Earth out of his heart to ease theanguish of solitude within him. But it was a thing that could not bedone.     And so it was that each night—for Willard did not give up theEarth-habit of keeping time—Willard dreamed of the days he had knownon Earth.     In his mind's eye, he saw himself walking the streets of Arden andfeeling the crunch of snow or the soft slap of rainwater under hisfeet. He heard again, in his mind, the voices of friends he knew.How beautiful and perfect was each voice! How filled with warmth andfriendship! There was the voice of his beautiful wife whom he wouldnever see again. There were the gruff and deep voices of his co-workersand scientists.     Above all there were the voices of the cities, and the fields and theshops where he had worked. All these had their individual voices. Oddthat he had never realized it before, but things become clearer to aman who is alone.     Clearer? Perhaps not. Perhaps they become more clouded. How could he,for example, explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it reallyonly a product of his imagination? What of all the others who hadseen it? Was it possible for many different men under many differentsituations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. Butperhaps space itself denies reason.     Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase hereand a story there put together all that he knew:     Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the GhostShip haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is itstragedy, for it is the home of spacemen who can never go home again.When your last measure of fuel is burnt and your ship becomes alifeless hulk—the Ghost will come—for you!     And this is all there was to the legend. Merely a tale of some fairyship told to amuse and to while away the days of a star-voyage.Bitterly, Willard dismissed it from his mind.     Another year of loneliness passed. And still another. Willard losttrack of the days. It was difficult to keep time for to what purposecould time be kept. Here in space there was no time, nor was therereason for clocks and records. Days and months and years becamemeaningless words for things that once may have had meaning. Aboutthree years must have passed since his last record in the log bookof the      Mary Lou     . At that time, he remembered, he suffered anothergreat disappointment. On the port side there suddenly appeared afull-sized rocket ship. For many minutes Willard was half-mad withjoy thinking that a passing ship was ready to rescue him. But the joywas short-lived, for the rocket ship abruptly turned away and slowlydisappeared. As Willard watched it go away he saw the light of adistant star      through     the space ship. A heart-breaking agony fell uponhim. It was not a ship from Earth. It was the Ghost Ship, mocking him.     Since then Willard did not look out the window of his craft. A vaguefear troubled him that perhaps the Ghost Ship might be here, waitingand watching, and that he would go mad if he saw it.     How many years passed he could not tell. But this he knew. He was nolonger a young man. Perhaps fifteen years has disappeared into nothing.Perhaps twenty. He did not know and he did not care.  <doc-sep>The weeks that followed were like a blur in Willard's mind. Though theship was utterly incapable of motion, the chance meteor that damagedit had spared the convertors and assimilators. Through constant careand attention the frail balance that meant life or death could be kept.The substance of waste and refuse was torn down and rebuilt as preciousfood and air. It was even possible to create more than was needed.     When this was done, Willard immediately regretted it. For it would bethen that the days and the weeks would roll by endlessly. Sometimeshe thought he would go mad when, sitting at the useless controlboard, which was his habit, he would stare for hours and hours inthe direction of the Sun where he knew the Earth would be. A greatloneliness would then seize upon him and an agony that no man had everknown would tear at his heart. He would then turn away, full of despairand hopeless pain.     Two years after Dobbin's death a strange thing happened. Willard wassitting at his accustomed place facing the unmoving vista of the stars.A chance glance at Orion's belt froze him still. A star had flickered!Distinctly, as if a light veil had been placed over it and then lifted,it dimmed and turned bright again. What strange phenomena was this? Hewatched and then another star faded momentarily in the exact fashion.And then a third! And a fourth! And a fifth!     Willard's heart gave a leap and the lethargy of two years vanishedinstantly. Here, at last, was something to do. It might be only a fewminutes before he would understand what it was, but those few minuteswould help while away the maddening long hours. Perhaps it was a massof fine meteorites or a pocket of gas that did not disperse, or even amoving warp of space-light. Whatever it was, it was a phenomena worthinvestigating and Willard seized upon it as a dying man seizes upon thelast flashing seconds of life.     Willard traced its course by the flickering stars and gradually plottedits semi-circular course. It was not from the solar system but,instead, headed toward it. A rapid check-up on his calculations causedhis heart to beat in ever quickening excitement. Whatever it was, itwould reach the      Mary Lou     .     Again he looked out the port. Unquestionably the faint mass was nearinghis ship. It was round in shape and almost invisible. The stars,though dimmed, could still be seen through it. There was somethingabout its form that reminded him of an old-fashioned rocket ship. Itresembled one of those that had done pioneer service in the lanes fortyyears ago or more. Resembled one? It was one! Unquestionably, thoughhalf-invisible and like a piece of glass immersed in water, it was arocket ship.     But the instruments on the control board could not lie. The presence ofany material body within a hundred thousand miles would be revealed.But the needle on the gauge did not quiver. Nothing indicated thepresence of a ship. But the evidence of his eyes was incontestable.     Or was it? Doubt gripped him. Did the loneliness of all these yearsin space twist his mind till he was imagining the appearance of faintghost-like rocket ships?     The thought shot through his mind like a thunder bolt. Ghost Ship!Was this the thing that Dobbin had seen before he died? But that wasimpossible. Ghost Ships existed nowhere but in legends and tall talestold by men drunk with the liquors of Mars.     There is no ship there. There is no ship there, Willard told himselfover and over again as he looked at the vague outline of the ship, nowmotionless a few hundred miles away.     Deep within him a faint voice cried,       It's come—for me!      but Willardstilled it. This was no fantasy. There was a scientific reason for it.There must be! Or should there be? Throughout all Earth history therehad been Ghost Ships sailing the Seven Seas—ships doomed to roamforever because their crew broke some unbreakable law. If this was truefor the ships of the seas, why not for the ships of empty space?     He looked again at the strange ship. It was motionless. At least it wasnot nearing him. Willard could see nothing but its vague outline. Amoment later he could discern a faint motion. It was turning! The GhostShip was turning back! Unconsciously Willard reached out with his handas if to hold it back, for when it was gone he would be alone again.     But the Ghost Ship went on. Its outline became smaller and smaller,fainter and fainter.     Trembling, Willard turned away from the window as he saw the rocketrecede and vanish into the emptiness of space. Once more the dreadedloneliness of the stars descended upon him.  <doc-sep>Willard awoke from a deep sleep and prepared his bed. He did it, notbecause it was necessary, but because it was a habit that had long beeningrained in him through the years.     He checked and rechecked every part of the still functioning mechanismof the ship. The radio, even though there was no one to call, was inperfect order. The speed-recording dials, even though there was nospeed to record, were in perfect order. And so with every machine. Allwas in perfect order. Perfect useless order, he thought bitterly, whenthere was no way whatever to get sufficient power to get back to Earth,long forgotten Earth.     He was leaning back in his chair when a vague uneasiness seized him.He arose and slowly walked over to the window, his age already beingmarked in the ache of his bones. Looking out into the silent theater ofthe stars, he suddenly froze.     There was a ship, coming toward him!     For a moment the reason in his mind tottered on a balance. Doubtassailed him. Was this the Ghost Ship come to torment him again? But nophantom this! It was a life and blood rocket ship from Earth! Starlightshone on it and not through it! Its lines, window, vents were all solidand had none of the ghost-like quality he remembered seeing in theGhost Ship in his youth.       For another split second he thought that perhaps he, too, like Dobbin,had gone mad and that the ship would vanish just as it approached him.     The tapping of the space-telegrapher reassured him.     CALLING SPACE SHIP MARY LOU, the message rapped out, CALLING SPACESHIP MARY LOU.     With trembling fingers that he could scarcely control, old Willard sentthe answering message.     SPACE SHIP MARY LOU REPLYING. RECEIVED MESSAGE. THANK GOD!     He broke off, unable to continue. His heart was ready to burst withinhim and the tears of joy were already welling in his eyes. He listenedto the happiest message he had ever heard:     NOTICE THAT SPACE SHIP MARY LOU IS DISABLED AND NOT SPACE WORTHY. YOUARE INVITED TO COME ABOARD. HAVE YOU SPACE SUIT AND—ARE YOU ABLE TOCOME?     Willard, already sobbing with joy, could send only two words.     YES! COMING!     The years of waiting were over. At last he was free of the      Mary Lou     .In a dream like trance, he dressed in his space suit, patheticallyglad that he had already checked every detail of it a short time ago.He realized suddenly that everything about the      Mary Lou     was hateful tohim. It was here that his best friend died, and it was here that twentyyears of his life were wasted completely in solitude and despair.     He took one last look and stepped into the air-lock.     The Earth-ship, he did not see its name, was only a hundred yards awayand a man was already at the air-lock waiting to help him. A rope wastossed to him. He reached for it and made his way to the ship, leavingthe      Mary Lou     behind him forever.     Suddenly the world dropped away from him. Willard could neither see norsay anything. His heart was choked with emotion.     It's all right, a kindly voice assured him, You're safe now.     He had the sensation of being carried by several men and then placed inbed. The quiet of deep sleep descended upon him.  <doc-sep>With the four of them inside, it was somewhat cramped. Most of thefive hundred square feet was filled with equipment. Electrical cablestrailed loosely along the walls and were festooned from the ceiling,radiating from the connections to the outside solar cells. The livingspace was more restricted than in a submarine, with the bunks juttingout from the walls about six feet from the floor.     Lt. Chandler mounted one of the bunks to give them more room. Well,he said wryly, it doesn't smell as bad now.     Oops, said Major Winship. Just a second. They're coming in. Heswitched over to the emergency channel. It was General Finogenov.     Major Winship! Hello! Hello, hello, hello. You A Okay?     This is Major Winship.     Oh! Excellent, very good. Any damage, Major?     Little leak. You?     Came through without damage. General Finogenov paused a moment. Whenno comment was forthcoming, he continued: Perhaps we built a bit morestrongly, Major.     You did this deliberately, Major Winship said testily.     No, no. Oh, no, no, no, no. Major Winship, please believe me. I verymuch regret this. Very much so. I am very distressed. Depressed. Afterrepeatedly assuring you there was no danger of a quake—and then tohave something like this happen. Oh, this is very embarrassing to me.Is there anything at all we can do?     Just leave us alone, thank you, Major Winship said and cut off thecommunication.     What'd they say? Capt. Wilkins asked.     Larry, General Finogenov said he was very embarrassed by this.     That's nice, Lt. Chandler said.     I'll be damned surprised, Major Winship said, if they got anyseismic data out of that shot.... Well, to hell with them, let's getthis leak fixed. Skip, can you get the calking compound?     Larry, where's the inventory?     Les has got it.     Lt. Chandler got down from the bunk and Capt. Wilkins mounted.     Larry, Major Winship said, why don't you get Earth?     Okay.     Capt. Wilkins got down from the bunk and Capt. Lawler ascended.     Got the inventory sheet, Les?     Right here.     Squeezed in front of the massive transmitter, Capt. Wilkins hadenergized the circuits. There was a puzzled look on his face. He leanedhis helmet against the speaker and then shook his head sadly. We can'thear anything without any air.     Major Winship looked at the microphone. Well, I'll just report and—He started to pick up the microphone and reconsidered. Yes, he said.That's right, isn't it.     Capt. Wilkins flicked off the transmitter. Some days you don't mine atall, he said.     Les, have you found it?     It's around here somewhere. Supposed to be back here.     Well,      find     it.     Lt. Chandler began moving boxes. I saw it—     Skip, help look.     Capt. Lawler got down from the bunk and Major Winship mounted. Wehaven't got all day.     A few minutes later, Lt. Chandler issued the triumphant cry. Here itis! Dozen tubes. Squeeze tubes. It's the new stuff.     Major Winship got down and Capt. Wilkins got up.     Marker showed it over here, Major Winship said, inching over to thewall. He traced the leak with a metallic finger.     How does this stuff work? Capt. Lawler asked.     They huddled over the instruction sheet.     Let's see. Squeeze the tube until the diaphragm at the nozzleruptures. Extrude paste into seam. Allow to harden one hour beforeservice.     Major Winship said dryly, Never mind. I notice it hardens on contactwith air.     Capt. Wilkins lay back on the bunk and stared upward. He said, Nowthat makes a weird kind of sense, doesn't it?     How do they possibly think—?     Gentlemen! It doesn't make any difference, Lt. Chandler said. Someair must already have leaked into this one. It's hard as a rock. Agorilla couldn't extrude it.     How're the other ones? asked Major Winship.     Lt. Chandler turned and made a quick examination. Oh, they're allhard, too.     Who was supposed to check? demanded Capt. Wilkins in exasperation.     The only way you can check is to extrude it, Lt. Chandler said, andif it does extrude, you've ruined it.     That's that, Major Winship said. There's nothing for it but to yellhelp.      II     Capt. Lawler and Lt. Chandler took the land car to Base Gagarin. TheSoviet base was situated some ten miles toward sunset at the bottom ofa natural fold in the surface. The route was moderately direct to thetip of the gently rolling ridge. At that point, the best pathway angledleft and made an S-shaped descent to the basin. It was a one-way tripof approximately thirty exhausting minutes.     Major Winship, with his deficient reefer, remained behind. Capt.Wilkins stayed for company.     I want a cigarette in the worst way, Capt. Wilkins said.     So do I, Larry. Shouldn't be more than a couple of hours. Unlesssomething else goes wrong.     As long as they'll loan us the calking compound, Capt. Wilkins said.     Yeah, yeah, Major Winship said.     Let's eat.     You got any concentrate? I'm empty.     I'll load you, Capt. Wilkins volunteered wearily.     It was an awkward operation that took several minutes. Capt. Wilkinscursed twice during the operation. I'd hate to live in this thing forany period.     I think these suits are one thing we've got over the Russians, MajorWinship said. I don't see how they can manipulate those bulky piecesof junk around.     They ate.     Really horrible stuff.     Nutritious.     After the meal, Major Winship said reflectively, Now I'd like a cup ofhot tea. I'm cooled off.     Capt. Wilkins raised eyebrows. What brought this on?     I was just thinking.... They really got it made, Larry. They've gotbetter than three thousand square feet in the main dome and better thantwelve hundred square feet in each of the two little ones. And there'sonly seven of them right now. That's living.     They've been here six years longer, after all.     Finogenov had a      clay     samovar sent up. Lemon and nutmeg, too. Real,by God, fresh lemons for the tea, the last time I was there. His ownoffice is about ten by ten. Think of that. One hundred square feet. Anda wooden desk. A      wooden     desk. And a chair. A wooden chair. Everythingbig and heavy. Everything. Weight, hell. Fifty pounds more or less—     They've got the power-plants for it.     Do you think he did that deliberately? Major Winship asked. I thinkhe's trying to force us off. I think he hoped for the quake. Gagarin'sbuilt to take it, I'll say that. Looks like it, anyhow. You don'tsuppose they planned this all along? Even if they didn't, they sure gotthe jump on us again, didn't they? I told you what he told me?     You told me, Capt. Wilkins said.  <doc-sep> id=chap01>  CHAPTER I   An Unsolved Mystery    “Tell Judy about it,” begged Lois. “Please, Lorraine,it can’t be as bad as it appears. There isn’tanything that Judy can’t solve.”     Lorraine tilted her head disdainfully. “We’re sistersnow. We’re both Farringdon-Petts and should beloyal to each other. But you always did take Judy’spart. She was the one who nearly spoiled our doublewedding trying to solve a mystery. I don’t believeshe’d understand—understand any better than I do.Everyone has problems, and I’m sure Judy is noexception.”     “You’re right, Lorraine,” announced Judy, comingin to serve dessert to the two friends she had invitedfor lunch at Peter’s suggestion. “I do haveproblems, and there are plenty of mysteries I can’tsolve.”     “Name one,” charged Lois. “Just mention onesingle spooky thing you couldn’t explain, and I’llbelieve you. I’ve seen you in action, Judy Bolton—”     “Judy Dobbs, remember?”     “Well, you were Judy Bolton when you solvedall those mysteries. I met you when the wholevalley below the big Roulsville dam was threatenedby flood and you solved that—”     “That,” declared Judy, “was my brother Horace,not me. He was the hero without even meaning tobe. He was the one who rode through town andwarned people that the flood was coming. I was offchasing a shadow.”     “A vanishing shadow,” Lois said with a sigh.“What you did wasn’t easy, Judy.”     “It didn’t need to be as hard as it was,” Judy confessed.“I know now that keeping that promise notto talk about the dam was a great big mistake andcould have cost lives. I should have told Arthur.”     “Please,” Lorraine said, a pained expression cloudingher pretty face, “let’s not talk about him now.”     “Very well,” Judy agreed. “What shall we talkabout?”     “You,” Lois said, “and all the mysteries you’vesolved. Maybe you were mistaken about a thing ortwo before the flood, but what about the haunted  house you moved into? You were the one whotracked down the ghosts in the attic and the cellarand goodness knows where all. You’ve been chasingghosts ever since I met you, and not one of them didyou fail to explain in some sensible, logical fashion.”     “Before I met you,” Judy said, thinking back,“there were plenty of them I couldn’t explain. Therewas one I used to call the spirit of the fountain, butwhat she was or how she spoke to me is more thanI know. If my grandparents knew, they weren’t telling.And now they’re both dead and I can’t ask them.They left me a lot of unsolved mysteries along withthis house. Maybe I’ll find the answers to some ofthem when I finish sorting Grandma’s things. They’restored in one end of the attic.”     “Another haunted attic? How thrilling!” exclaimedLois. “Why don’t you have another ghost party andshow up the spooks?”     “I didn’t say the attic was haunted.”     Judy was almost sorry she had mentioned it. Shewasn’t in the mood for digging up old mysteries,but Lois and Lorraine insisted. It all began, she finallytold them, the summer before they met. Horacehad just started working on the paper. Judy rememberedthat it was Lorraine’s father, Richard ThorntonLee, who gave him his job with the      FarringdonDaily Herald     . He had turned in some interestingchurch news, convincing Mr. Lee that he had in him  the makings of a good reporter. And so it was thathe spent the summer Judy was remembering in Farringdonwhere the Farringdon-Petts had their turretedmansion, while she had to suffer the heat andloneliness of Dry Brook Hollow.     Her thoughts were what had made it so hard, sheconfessed now as she reviewed everything that hadhappened. She just couldn’t help resenting the factthat her parents left her every summer while theywent off on a vacation by themselves. What did theythink she would do?     “You’ll have plenty to read,” her father had toldher. “I bought you six new books in that mysteryseries you like. When they’re finished there areplenty of short stories around. Your grandmothernever throws anything away. She has magazines she’ssaved since your mother was a girl. If you ask forthem she’ll let you have the whole stack. I know howyou love to read.”     “I do, Dad, but if the magazines are that old—”     Judy had stopped. She had seen her father’s tiredeyes and had realized that a busy doctor needed avacation much more than a schoolgirl who had toolittle to do. He and Judy’s mother usually went tothe beach hotel where they had honeymooned. Itwas a precious memory. Every summer Dr. Boltonand his wife relived it. And every summer Judywent to stay with her grandmother Smeed, whoscolded and fussed and tried to pretend she wasn’tglad to have her.     “You here again?” she had greeted her that summer,and Judy hadn’t noticed her old eyes twinklingbehind her glasses. “What do you propose to do withyourself this time?”     “Read,” Judy had told her. “Mom and Dad sayyou have a whole stack of old magazines—”     “In the attic. Go up and look them over if youcan stand the heat.”     Judy went, not to look over the old magazines somuch as to escape to a place where she could have agood cry. It was the summer before her fifteenthbirthday. In another year she would have outgrownher childish resentment of her parents’ vacation orbe grown up enough to ask them to let her have avacation of her own. In another year she wouldbe summering among the beautiful Thousand Islandsand solving a mystery to be known as the      GhostParade     .     “A whole parade of ghosts,” Lois would be tellingher, “and you solved everything.”     But then she didn’t even know Lois. She had noidea so many thrilling adventures awaited her. Thereseemed to be nothing—nothing—and so the tearscame and spilled over on one of the magazines. AsJudy wiped it away she noticed that it had fallenon a picture of a fountain.     “A fountain with tears for water. How strange!”she remembered saying aloud.     Judy had never seen a real fountain. The thrill ofwalking up to the door of the palatial Farringdon-Pettmansion was still ahead of her. On the lawn afountain still caught and held rainbows like thoseshe was to see on her honeymoon at Niagara Falls.But all that was in the future. If anyone had toldthe freckled-faced, pigtailed girl that she would oneday marry Peter Dobbs, she would have laughed intheir faces.     “That tease!”     For then she knew Peter only as an older boy whoused to tease her and call her carrot-top until one dayshe yelled back at him, “Carrot-tops are green and soare you!”     Peter was to win Judy’s heart when he gave her akitten and suggested the name Blackberry for him.The kitten was now a dignified family cat. But thesummer Judy found the picture of a fountain andspilled tears on it she had no kitten. She had nothing,she confessed, not even a friend. It had helped topretend the fountain in the picture was filled withall the tears lonely girls like herself had ever cried.     “But that would make it enchanted!” she had suddenlyexclaimed. “If I could find it I’d wish—”     A step had sounded on the stairs. Judy rememberedit distinctly. She had turned to see her grandmother  and to hear her say in her usual abrupt fashion,“Enchanted fountain, indeed! If you let peopleknow your wishes instead of muttering them toyourself, most of them aren’t so impossible.”     “Were they?” asked Lois.     She and Lorraine had listened to this much of whatJudy was telling them without interruption.     “That’s the unsolved mystery,” Judy replied.“There weren’t any of them impossible.”     And she went on to tell them how, the very nextday, her grandparents had taken her to a fountainexactly like the one in the picture. It was in the centerof a deep, circular pool with steps leading up to it.Beside the steps were smaller fountains with thewater spurting from the mouths of stone lions. Judyhad stared at them a moment and then climbed thesteps to the pool.     “Am I dreaming?” she remembered saying aloud.“Is this beautiful fountain real?”     A voice had answered, although she could see noone.     “Make your wishes, Judy. Wish wisely. If youshed a tear in the fountain your wishes will surelycome true.”     “A tear?” Judy had asked. “How can I shed atear when I’m happy? This is a wonderful place.”     “Shed a tear in the fountain and your wishes willsurely come true,” the voice had repeated.     “But what is there to cry about?”     “You found plenty to cry about back at yourgrandmother’s house,” the mysterious voice had remindedher. “Weren’t you crying on my picture upthere in the attic?”     “Then you—you      are     the fountain!” Judy rememberedexclaiming. “But a fountain doesn’t speak. Itdoesn’t have a voice.”     “Wish wisely,” the voice from the fountain hadsaid in a mysterious whisper.   <doc-sep>There's something to what you say, I admitted in the face of hisunexpected information. But I can hardly turn my invention over toyour entirely persuasive salesmen, I'm sure. This is part of theresults of an investigation for the government. Washington will haveto decide what to do with the machine.     Listen, Professor, Carmen began, the Mafia—     What makes you think I'm any more afraid of the Mafia than I am of theF.B.I.? I may have already sealed my fate by letting you in on thismuch. Machinegunning is hardly a less attractive fate to me than a poorsecurity rating. To me, being dead professionally would be as bad asbeing dead biologically.     Tony Carmen laid a heavy hand on my shoulder. I finally deduced heintended to be cordial.     Of course, he said smoothly you have to give this to Washington butthere are      ways     , Professor. I know. I'm a business man—     You      are     ? I said.     He named some of the businesses in which he held large shares of stock.     You      are     .     I've had experience in this sort of thing. We simply      leak     theinformation to a few hundred well selected persons about all that yourmachine can do. We'll call 'em Expendables, because they can expendanything.     I, I interjected, planned to call it the Venetti Machine.     Professor, who calls the radio the Marconi these days?     There are Geiger-Muller Counters, though, I said.     You don't have to give a Geiger counter the sex appeal of a TV set ora hardtop convertible. We'll call them Expendables. No home will becomplete without one.     Perfect for disposing of unwanted bodies, I mused. The murder ratewill go alarmingly with those devices within easy reach.     Did that stop Sam Colt or Henry Ford? Tony Carmen asked reasonably....     Naturally, I was aware that the government would      not     be interested inmy machine. I am not a Fortean, a psychic, a psionicist or a screwball.But the government frequently gets things it doesn't know what to dowith—like airplanes in the 'twenties. When it doesn't know what to do,it doesn't do it.     There have been hundreds of workable perpetual motion machinespatented, for example. Of course, they weren't vices in the strictestsense of the word. Many of them used the external power of gravity,they would wear out or slow down in time from friction, but for themeanwhile, for some ten to two hundred years they would just sit there,moving. No one had ever been able to figure out what to do with them.     I knew the AEC wasn't going to dump tons of radioactive waste (withsome possible future reclaimation value) into a machine which theydidn't believe actually could work.     Tony Carmen knew exactly what to do with an Expendable once he got hishands on it.     Naturally, that was what I had been afraid of.  <doc-sep>Quite alone, the Aga said. He nodded sagely. Yes, one need but readthe lesson of history. The Corps Diplomatique will make expostulatorynoises, but it will accept the      fait accompli     . You, my dear sir, arebut a very small nibble. We won't make the mistake of excessive greed.We shall inch our way to empire—and those who stand in our way shallbe dubbed warmongers.     I see you're quite a student of history, Stanley, Retief said. Iwonder if you recall the eventual fate of most of the would-be empirenibblers of the past?     Ah, but they grew incautious. They went too far, too fast.     The confounded impudence, Georges rasped. Tells us to our face whathe has in mind!     An ancient and honorable custom, from the time of      Mein Kampf     andthe      Communist Manifesto     through the      Porcelain Wall     of Leung. Suchdeclarations have a legendary quality. It's traditional that they'renever taken at face value.     But always, Retief said, there was a critical point at which the manon horseback could have been pulled from the saddle.           Could     have been, the Aga Kaga chuckled. He finished the grapes andbegan peeling an orange. But they never were. Hitler could have beenstopped by the Czech Air Force in 1938; Stalin was at the mercy of theprimitive atomics of the west in 1946; Leung was grossly over-extendedat Rangoon. But the onus of that historic role could not be overcome.It has been the fate of your spiritual forebears to carve civilizationfrom the wilderness and then, amid tearing of garments and the heapingof ashes of self-accusation on your own confused heads, to withdraw,leaving the spoils for local political opportunists and mob leaders,clothed in the mystical virtue of native birth. Have a banana.     You're stretching your analogy a little too far, Retief said. You'rebanking on the inaction of the Corps. You could be wrong.     I shall know when to stop, the Aga Kaga said.     Tell me, Stanley, Retief said, rising. Are we quite private here?     Yes, perfectly so, the Aga Kaga said. None would dare to intrude inmy council. He cocked an eyebrow at Retief. You have a proposal tomake in confidence? But what of our dear friend Georges? One would notlike to see him disillusioned.     Don't worry about Georges. He's a realist, like you. He's prepared todeal in facts. Hard facts, in this case.     The Aga Kaga nodded thoughtfully. What are you getting at?     You're basing your plan of action on the certainty that the Corps willsit by, wringing its hands, while you embark on a career of planetarypiracy.     Isn't it the custom? the Aga Kaga smiled complacently.     I have news for you, Stanley. In this instance, neck-wringing seemsmore in order than hand-wringing.     The Aga Kaga frowned. Your manner—     Never mind our manners! Georges blurted, standing. We don't need anylessons from goat-herding land-thieves!     The Aga Kaga's face darkened. You dare to speak thus to me, pig of amuck-grubber!  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the fate of Larry Dobbin in GALACTIC GHOST?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What role do Ghost Ships play in GALACTIC GHOST? [SEP] <s>   GALACTIC GHOST     By WALTER KUBILIUS     The Flying Dutchman of space was a harbinger     of death. But Willard wasn't superstitions.     He had seen the phantom—and lived.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Winter 1942.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The only friend in space Willard had ever known was dying. Dobbin'slips were parched and his breath came spasmodically. The tips of hisfingers that had so many times caressed the control board of the      MaryLou     were now black as meteor dust.     We'll never see Earth again, he whispered feebly, plucked weakly atthe cover.     Nonsense! Willard broke in hurriedly, hoping that the dying manwould not see through the lie. We've got the sun's gravity helpingus drift back to Earth! We'll be there soon! You'll get well soon andwe'll start to work again on a new idea of mine.... His voice trailedhelplessly away and the words were lost. It was no use.     The sick man did not hear him. Two tears rolled down his cheeks. Hisface contorted as he tried to withhold a sob.     To see Earth again! he said weakly. To walk on solid ground oncemore!     Four years! Willard echoed faintly. He knew how his space mate felt.No man can spend four years away from his home planet, and fail to beanguished. A man could live without friends, without fortune, but noman could live without Earth. He was like Anteus, for only the feel ofthe solid ground under his feet could give him courage to go among thestars.     Willard also knew what he dared not admit to himself. He, too, likeDobbin, would never see Earth again. Perhaps, some thousand years fromnow, some lonely wanderers would find their battered hulk of a ship inspace and bring them home again.     Dobbin motioned to him and, in answer to a last request, Willard liftedhim so he faced the port window for a final look at the panorama of thestars.     Dobbin's eyes, dimming and half closed, took in the vast play of theheavens and in his mind he relived the days when in a frail craft hefirst crossed interstellar space. But for Earth-loneliness Dobbin woulddie a happy man, knowing that he had lived as much and as deeply as anyman could.     Silently the two men watched. Dobbin's eyes opened suddenly and atremor seized his body. He turned painfully and looked at Willard.     I saw it! his voice cracked, trembling.     Saw what?     It's true! It's true! It comes whenever a space man dies! It's there!     In heaven's name, Dobbin, Willard demanded, What do you see? What isit?     Dobbin lifted his dark bony arm and pointed out into star-studdedspace.     The Ghost Ship!     Something clicked in Willard's memory. He had heard it spoken of inwhispers by drunken space men and professional tellers of fairy tales.But he had never put any stock in them. In some forgotten corner ofDobbin's mind the legend of the Ghost Ship must have lain, to come upin this time of delirium.     There's nothing there, he said firmly.     It's come—for me! Dobbin cried. He turned his head slowly towardWillard, tried to say something and then fell back upon the pillow. Hismouth was open and his eyes stared unseeing ahead. Dobbin was now onewith the vanished pioneers of yesterday. Willard was alone.     For two days, reckoned in Earth time, Willard kept vigil over the bodyof his friend and space mate. When the time was up he did what wasnecessary and nothing remained of Harry Dobbin, the best friend he hadever had. The atoms of his body were now pure energy stored away in theuseless motors of the      Mary Lou     .  <doc-sep>Seven years passed and back on Earth in a small newspaper that Willardwould never see there was published a small item:           Arden, Rocketport     —Thirteen years ago the Space Ship      Mary Lou     under John Willard and Larry Dobbin left the Rocket Port for theexploration of an alleged planetoid beyond Pluto. The ship has not beenseen or heard from since. J. Willard, II, son of the lost explorer, isplanning the manufacture of a super-size exploration ship to be called      Mary Lou II     , in memory of his father.     Memories die hard. A man who is alone in space with nothing but thecold friendship of star-light looks back upon memories as the onlythings both dear and precious to him.     Willard, master and lone survivor of the      Mary Lou     , knew this well forhe had tried to rip the memories of Earth out of his heart to ease theanguish of solitude within him. But it was a thing that could not bedone.     And so it was that each night—for Willard did not give up theEarth-habit of keeping time—Willard dreamed of the days he had knownon Earth.     In his mind's eye, he saw himself walking the streets of Arden andfeeling the crunch of snow or the soft slap of rainwater under hisfeet. He heard again, in his mind, the voices of friends he knew.How beautiful and perfect was each voice! How filled with warmth andfriendship! There was the voice of his beautiful wife whom he wouldnever see again. There were the gruff and deep voices of his co-workersand scientists.     Above all there were the voices of the cities, and the fields and theshops where he had worked. All these had their individual voices. Oddthat he had never realized it before, but things become clearer to aman who is alone.     Clearer? Perhaps not. Perhaps they become more clouded. How could he,for example, explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it reallyonly a product of his imagination? What of all the others who hadseen it? Was it possible for many different men under many differentsituations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. Butperhaps space itself denies reason.     Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase hereand a story there put together all that he knew:     Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the GhostShip haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is itstragedy, for it is the home of spacemen who can never go home again.When your last measure of fuel is burnt and your ship becomes alifeless hulk—the Ghost will come—for you!     And this is all there was to the legend. Merely a tale of some fairyship told to amuse and to while away the days of a star-voyage.Bitterly, Willard dismissed it from his mind.     Another year of loneliness passed. And still another. Willard losttrack of the days. It was difficult to keep time for to what purposecould time be kept. Here in space there was no time, nor was therereason for clocks and records. Days and months and years becamemeaningless words for things that once may have had meaning. Aboutthree years must have passed since his last record in the log bookof the      Mary Lou     . At that time, he remembered, he suffered anothergreat disappointment. On the port side there suddenly appeared afull-sized rocket ship. For many minutes Willard was half-mad withjoy thinking that a passing ship was ready to rescue him. But the joywas short-lived, for the rocket ship abruptly turned away and slowlydisappeared. As Willard watched it go away he saw the light of adistant star      through     the space ship. A heart-breaking agony fell uponhim. It was not a ship from Earth. It was the Ghost Ship, mocking him.     Since then Willard did not look out the window of his craft. A vaguefear troubled him that perhaps the Ghost Ship might be here, waitingand watching, and that he would go mad if he saw it.     How many years passed he could not tell. But this he knew. He was nolonger a young man. Perhaps fifteen years has disappeared into nothing.Perhaps twenty. He did not know and he did not care.  <doc-sep>The weeks that followed were like a blur in Willard's mind. Though theship was utterly incapable of motion, the chance meteor that damagedit had spared the convertors and assimilators. Through constant careand attention the frail balance that meant life or death could be kept.The substance of waste and refuse was torn down and rebuilt as preciousfood and air. It was even possible to create more than was needed.     When this was done, Willard immediately regretted it. For it would bethen that the days and the weeks would roll by endlessly. Sometimeshe thought he would go mad when, sitting at the useless controlboard, which was his habit, he would stare for hours and hours inthe direction of the Sun where he knew the Earth would be. A greatloneliness would then seize upon him and an agony that no man had everknown would tear at his heart. He would then turn away, full of despairand hopeless pain.     Two years after Dobbin's death a strange thing happened. Willard wassitting at his accustomed place facing the unmoving vista of the stars.A chance glance at Orion's belt froze him still. A star had flickered!Distinctly, as if a light veil had been placed over it and then lifted,it dimmed and turned bright again. What strange phenomena was this? Hewatched and then another star faded momentarily in the exact fashion.And then a third! And a fourth! And a fifth!     Willard's heart gave a leap and the lethargy of two years vanishedinstantly. Here, at last, was something to do. It might be only a fewminutes before he would understand what it was, but those few minuteswould help while away the maddening long hours. Perhaps it was a massof fine meteorites or a pocket of gas that did not disperse, or even amoving warp of space-light. Whatever it was, it was a phenomena worthinvestigating and Willard seized upon it as a dying man seizes upon thelast flashing seconds of life.     Willard traced its course by the flickering stars and gradually plottedits semi-circular course. It was not from the solar system but,instead, headed toward it. A rapid check-up on his calculations causedhis heart to beat in ever quickening excitement. Whatever it was, itwould reach the      Mary Lou     .     Again he looked out the port. Unquestionably the faint mass was nearinghis ship. It was round in shape and almost invisible. The stars,though dimmed, could still be seen through it. There was somethingabout its form that reminded him of an old-fashioned rocket ship. Itresembled one of those that had done pioneer service in the lanes fortyyears ago or more. Resembled one? It was one! Unquestionably, thoughhalf-invisible and like a piece of glass immersed in water, it was arocket ship.     But the instruments on the control board could not lie. The presence ofany material body within a hundred thousand miles would be revealed.But the needle on the gauge did not quiver. Nothing indicated thepresence of a ship. But the evidence of his eyes was incontestable.     Or was it? Doubt gripped him. Did the loneliness of all these yearsin space twist his mind till he was imagining the appearance of faintghost-like rocket ships?     The thought shot through his mind like a thunder bolt. Ghost Ship!Was this the thing that Dobbin had seen before he died? But that wasimpossible. Ghost Ships existed nowhere but in legends and tall talestold by men drunk with the liquors of Mars.     There is no ship there. There is no ship there, Willard told himselfover and over again as he looked at the vague outline of the ship, nowmotionless a few hundred miles away.     Deep within him a faint voice cried,       It's come—for me!      but Willardstilled it. This was no fantasy. There was a scientific reason for it.There must be! Or should there be? Throughout all Earth history therehad been Ghost Ships sailing the Seven Seas—ships doomed to roamforever because their crew broke some unbreakable law. If this was truefor the ships of the seas, why not for the ships of empty space?     He looked again at the strange ship. It was motionless. At least it wasnot nearing him. Willard could see nothing but its vague outline. Amoment later he could discern a faint motion. It was turning! The GhostShip was turning back! Unconsciously Willard reached out with his handas if to hold it back, for when it was gone he would be alone again.     But the Ghost Ship went on. Its outline became smaller and smaller,fainter and fainter.     Trembling, Willard turned away from the window as he saw the rocketrecede and vanish into the emptiness of space. Once more the dreadedloneliness of the stars descended upon him.  <doc-sep>Willard awoke from a deep sleep and prepared his bed. He did it, notbecause it was necessary, but because it was a habit that had long beeningrained in him through the years.     He checked and rechecked every part of the still functioning mechanismof the ship. The radio, even though there was no one to call, was inperfect order. The speed-recording dials, even though there was nospeed to record, were in perfect order. And so with every machine. Allwas in perfect order. Perfect useless order, he thought bitterly, whenthere was no way whatever to get sufficient power to get back to Earth,long forgotten Earth.     He was leaning back in his chair when a vague uneasiness seized him.He arose and slowly walked over to the window, his age already beingmarked in the ache of his bones. Looking out into the silent theater ofthe stars, he suddenly froze.     There was a ship, coming toward him!     For a moment the reason in his mind tottered on a balance. Doubtassailed him. Was this the Ghost Ship come to torment him again? But nophantom this! It was a life and blood rocket ship from Earth! Starlightshone on it and not through it! Its lines, window, vents were all solidand had none of the ghost-like quality he remembered seeing in theGhost Ship in his youth.       For another split second he thought that perhaps he, too, like Dobbin,had gone mad and that the ship would vanish just as it approached him.     The tapping of the space-telegrapher reassured him.     CALLING SPACE SHIP MARY LOU, the message rapped out, CALLING SPACESHIP MARY LOU.     With trembling fingers that he could scarcely control, old Willard sentthe answering message.     SPACE SHIP MARY LOU REPLYING. RECEIVED MESSAGE. THANK GOD!     He broke off, unable to continue. His heart was ready to burst withinhim and the tears of joy were already welling in his eyes. He listenedto the happiest message he had ever heard:     NOTICE THAT SPACE SHIP MARY LOU IS DISABLED AND NOT SPACE WORTHY. YOUARE INVITED TO COME ABOARD. HAVE YOU SPACE SUIT AND—ARE YOU ABLE TOCOME?     Willard, already sobbing with joy, could send only two words.     YES! COMING!     The years of waiting were over. At last he was free of the      Mary Lou     .In a dream like trance, he dressed in his space suit, patheticallyglad that he had already checked every detail of it a short time ago.He realized suddenly that everything about the      Mary Lou     was hateful tohim. It was here that his best friend died, and it was here that twentyyears of his life were wasted completely in solitude and despair.     He took one last look and stepped into the air-lock.     The Earth-ship, he did not see its name, was only a hundred yards awayand a man was already at the air-lock waiting to help him. A rope wastossed to him. He reached for it and made his way to the ship, leavingthe      Mary Lou     behind him forever.     Suddenly the world dropped away from him. Willard could neither see norsay anything. His heart was choked with emotion.     It's all right, a kindly voice assured him, You're safe now.     He had the sensation of being carried by several men and then placed inbed. The quiet of deep sleep descended upon him.  <doc-sep>He awoke with a start and a cry of alarm ran through him as he thoughtthat perhaps he might still be in the      Mary Lou     . The warm, smiling faceof a man quickly reassured him.     I'll call the captain, the space man said. He said to let him knowwhen you came to.     Willard could only nod in weak and grateful acceptance. It was true! Hepressed his head back against the bed's pillows. How soft! How warm! Heyawned and stretched his arms as a thrill of happiness shot through hisentire body.     He would see Earth again! That single thought ran over and over in hismind without stopping. He would see Earth again! Perhaps not this yearand perhaps not the next—for the ship might be on some extra-Plutonianexpedition. But even if it would take years before it returned to homebase Willard knew that those years would fly quickly if Earth was atthe end of the trail.     Though he had aged, he still had many years before him. And thoseyears, he vowed, would be spent on Earth and nowhere else.     The captain, a pleasant old fellow, came into the room as Willard stoodup and tried to walk. The gravity here was a bit different from that ofhis ship, but he would manage.     How do you feel, Space Man Willard?     Oh, you know me? Willard looked at him in surprise, and then smiled,Of course, you looked through the log book of the      Mary Lou     .     The captain nodded and Willard noticed with surprise that he was a veryold man.     You don't know how much I suffered there, Willard said slowly,measuring each word. Years in space—all alone! It's a horrible thing!     Yes? the old captain said.     Many times I thought I would go completely mad. It was only thethought and hope that some day, somehow, an Earth-ship would find meand help me get back to Earth. If it was not for that, I would havedied. I could think of nothing but of Earth, of blue green water, ofvast open spaces and the good brown earth. How beautiful it must benow!     A note of sadness, matched only by that of Willard's, entered thecaptain's eyes.     I want to walk on Earth just once—then I can die.     Willard stopped. A happy dreamy smile touched his lips.     When will we go to Earth? he asked.     The Captain did not answer. Willard waited and a strange memory tuggedat him.     You don't know, the Captain said. It was not a question or astatement. The Captain found it hard to say it. His lips moved slowly.     Willard stepped back and before the Captain told him,      he knew     .     Matter is relative, he said, the existent under one condition isnon-existent under another. The real here is the non-real there. Allthings that wander alone in space are gradually drained of their massand energy until nothing is left but mere shells. That is what happenedto the      Mary Lou     . Your ship was real when we passed by twenty yearsago. It is now like ours, a vague outline in space. We cannot feelthe change ourselves, for change is relative. That is why we becamemore and more solid to you, as you became more and more faint to anyEarth-ship that might have passed. We are real—to ourselves. But tosome ship from Earth which has not been in space for more than fifteenyears—to that ship, to all intents and purposes, we do not exist.     Then this ship, Willard said, stunned, you and I and everything onit...     ... are doomed, the Captain said. We cannot go to Earth for thesimple reason that we would go      through     it!     The vision of Earth and green trees faded. He would never see Earthagain. He would never feel the crunch of ground under feet as hewalked. Never would listen to the voices of friends and the songs ofbirds. Never. Never. Never....     Then this is the Ghost Ship and we are the Ghosts!     Yes.   <doc-sep> id=chap01>  CHAPTER I   An Unsolved Mystery    “Tell Judy about it,” begged Lois. “Please, Lorraine,it can’t be as bad as it appears. There isn’tanything that Judy can’t solve.”     Lorraine tilted her head disdainfully. “We’re sistersnow. We’re both Farringdon-Petts and should beloyal to each other. But you always did take Judy’spart. She was the one who nearly spoiled our doublewedding trying to solve a mystery. I don’t believeshe’d understand—understand any better than I do.Everyone has problems, and I’m sure Judy is noexception.”     “You’re right, Lorraine,” announced Judy, comingin to serve dessert to the two friends she had invitedfor lunch at Peter’s suggestion. “I do haveproblems, and there are plenty of mysteries I can’tsolve.”     “Name one,” charged Lois. “Just mention onesingle spooky thing you couldn’t explain, and I’llbelieve you. I’ve seen you in action, Judy Bolton—”     “Judy Dobbs, remember?”     “Well, you were Judy Bolton when you solvedall those mysteries. I met you when the wholevalley below the big Roulsville dam was threatenedby flood and you solved that—”     “That,” declared Judy, “was my brother Horace,not me. He was the hero without even meaning tobe. He was the one who rode through town andwarned people that the flood was coming. I was offchasing a shadow.”     “A vanishing shadow,” Lois said with a sigh.“What you did wasn’t easy, Judy.”     “It didn’t need to be as hard as it was,” Judy confessed.“I know now that keeping that promise notto talk about the dam was a great big mistake andcould have cost lives. I should have told Arthur.”     “Please,” Lorraine said, a pained expression cloudingher pretty face, “let’s not talk about him now.”     “Very well,” Judy agreed. “What shall we talkabout?”     “You,” Lois said, “and all the mysteries you’vesolved. Maybe you were mistaken about a thing ortwo before the flood, but what about the haunted  house you moved into? You were the one whotracked down the ghosts in the attic and the cellarand goodness knows where all. You’ve been chasingghosts ever since I met you, and not one of them didyou fail to explain in some sensible, logical fashion.”     “Before I met you,” Judy said, thinking back,“there were plenty of them I couldn’t explain. Therewas one I used to call the spirit of the fountain, butwhat she was or how she spoke to me is more thanI know. If my grandparents knew, they weren’t telling.And now they’re both dead and I can’t ask them.They left me a lot of unsolved mysteries along withthis house. Maybe I’ll find the answers to some ofthem when I finish sorting Grandma’s things. They’restored in one end of the attic.”     “Another haunted attic? How thrilling!” exclaimedLois. “Why don’t you have another ghost party andshow up the spooks?”     “I didn’t say the attic was haunted.”     Judy was almost sorry she had mentioned it. Shewasn’t in the mood for digging up old mysteries,but Lois and Lorraine insisted. It all began, she finallytold them, the summer before they met. Horacehad just started working on the paper. Judy rememberedthat it was Lorraine’s father, Richard ThorntonLee, who gave him his job with the      FarringdonDaily Herald     . He had turned in some interestingchurch news, convincing Mr. Lee that he had in him  the makings of a good reporter. And so it was thathe spent the summer Judy was remembering in Farringdonwhere the Farringdon-Petts had their turretedmansion, while she had to suffer the heat andloneliness of Dry Brook Hollow.     Her thoughts were what had made it so hard, sheconfessed now as she reviewed everything that hadhappened. She just couldn’t help resenting the factthat her parents left her every summer while theywent off on a vacation by themselves. What did theythink she would do?     “You’ll have plenty to read,” her father had toldher. “I bought you six new books in that mysteryseries you like. When they’re finished there areplenty of short stories around. Your grandmothernever throws anything away. She has magazines she’ssaved since your mother was a girl. If you ask forthem she’ll let you have the whole stack. I know howyou love to read.”     “I do, Dad, but if the magazines are that old—”     Judy had stopped. She had seen her father’s tiredeyes and had realized that a busy doctor needed avacation much more than a schoolgirl who had toolittle to do. He and Judy’s mother usually went tothe beach hotel where they had honeymooned. Itwas a precious memory. Every summer Dr. Boltonand his wife relived it. And every summer Judywent to stay with her grandmother Smeed, whoscolded and fussed and tried to pretend she wasn’tglad to have her.     “You here again?” she had greeted her that summer,and Judy hadn’t noticed her old eyes twinklingbehind her glasses. “What do you propose to do withyourself this time?”     “Read,” Judy had told her. “Mom and Dad sayyou have a whole stack of old magazines—”     “In the attic. Go up and look them over if youcan stand the heat.”     Judy went, not to look over the old magazines somuch as to escape to a place where she could have agood cry. It was the summer before her fifteenthbirthday. In another year she would have outgrownher childish resentment of her parents’ vacation orbe grown up enough to ask them to let her have avacation of her own. In another year she wouldbe summering among the beautiful Thousand Islandsand solving a mystery to be known as the      GhostParade     .     “A whole parade of ghosts,” Lois would be tellingher, “and you solved everything.”     But then she didn’t even know Lois. She had noidea so many thrilling adventures awaited her. Thereseemed to be nothing—nothing—and so the tearscame and spilled over on one of the magazines. AsJudy wiped it away she noticed that it had fallenon a picture of a fountain.     “A fountain with tears for water. How strange!”she remembered saying aloud.     Judy had never seen a real fountain. The thrill ofwalking up to the door of the palatial Farringdon-Pettmansion was still ahead of her. On the lawn afountain still caught and held rainbows like thoseshe was to see on her honeymoon at Niagara Falls.But all that was in the future. If anyone had toldthe freckled-faced, pigtailed girl that she would oneday marry Peter Dobbs, she would have laughed intheir faces.     “That tease!”     For then she knew Peter only as an older boy whoused to tease her and call her carrot-top until one dayshe yelled back at him, “Carrot-tops are green and soare you!”     Peter was to win Judy’s heart when he gave her akitten and suggested the name Blackberry for him.The kitten was now a dignified family cat. But thesummer Judy found the picture of a fountain andspilled tears on it she had no kitten. She had nothing,she confessed, not even a friend. It had helped topretend the fountain in the picture was filled withall the tears lonely girls like herself had ever cried.     “But that would make it enchanted!” she had suddenlyexclaimed. “If I could find it I’d wish—”     A step had sounded on the stairs. Judy rememberedit distinctly. She had turned to see her grandmother  and to hear her say in her usual abrupt fashion,“Enchanted fountain, indeed! If you let peopleknow your wishes instead of muttering them toyourself, most of them aren’t so impossible.”     “Were they?” asked Lois.     She and Lorraine had listened to this much of whatJudy was telling them without interruption.     “That’s the unsolved mystery,” Judy replied.“There weren’t any of them impossible.”     And she went on to tell them how, the very nextday, her grandparents had taken her to a fountainexactly like the one in the picture. It was in the centerof a deep, circular pool with steps leading up to it.Beside the steps were smaller fountains with thewater spurting from the mouths of stone lions. Judyhad stared at them a moment and then climbed thesteps to the pool.     “Am I dreaming?” she remembered saying aloud.“Is this beautiful fountain real?”     A voice had answered, although she could see noone.     “Make your wishes, Judy. Wish wisely. If youshed a tear in the fountain your wishes will surelycome true.”     “A tear?” Judy had asked. “How can I shed atear when I’m happy? This is a wonderful place.”     “Shed a tear in the fountain and your wishes willsurely come true,” the voice had repeated.     “But what is there to cry about?”     “You found plenty to cry about back at yourgrandmother’s house,” the mysterious voice had remindedher. “Weren’t you crying on my picture upthere in the attic?”     “Then you—you      are     the fountain!” Judy rememberedexclaiming. “But a fountain doesn’t speak. Itdoesn’t have a voice.”     “Wish wisely,” the voice from the fountain hadsaid in a mysterious whisper.   <doc-sep>   THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN     By BRYCE WALTON     Illustrated by BOB HAYES     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction June 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        First one up this tallest summit in the Solar       System was a rotten egg ... a very rotten egg!        Bruce heard their feet on the gravel outside and got up reluctantly toopen the door for them. He'd been reading some of Byron's poems he'dsneaked aboard the ship; after that he had been on the point of dozingoff, and now one of those strangely realistic dreams would have to bepostponed for a while. Funny, those dreams. There were faces in them ofhuman beings, or of ghosts, and other forms that weren't human at all,but seemed real and alive—except that they were also just parts of alast unconscious desire to escape death. Maybe that was it.     'Oh that my young life were a lasting dream, my spirit not awakeningtill the beam of an eternity should bring the 'morrow, Bruce said. Hesmiled without feeling much of anything and added, Thanks, Mr. Poe.     Jacobs and Anhauser stood outside. The icy wind cut through and intoBruce, but he didn't seem to notice. Anhauser's bulk loomed even largerin the special cold-resisting suiting. Jacobs' thin face frowned slylyat Bruce.     Come on in, boys, and get warm, Bruce invited.     Hey, poet, you're still here! Anhauser said, looking astonished.     We thought you'd be running off somewhere, Jacobs said.     Bruce reached for the suit on its hook, started climbing into it.Where? he asked. Mars looks alike wherever you go. Where did youthink I'd be running to?     Any place just so it was away from here and us, Anhauser said.     I don't have to do that. You are going away from me. That takes careof that, doesn't it?     Ah, come on, get the hell out of there, Jacobs said. He pulled therevolver from its holster and pointed it at Bruce. We got to get somesleep. We're starting up that mountain at five in the morning.     I know, Bruce said. I'll be glad to see you climb the mountain.     Outside, in the weird light of the double moons, Bruce looked up at thegigantic overhang of the mountain. It was unbelievable. The mountaindidn't seem to belong here. He'd thought so when they'd first hit Marseight months back and discovered the other four rockets that had nevergot back to Earth—all lying side by side under the mountain's shadow,like little white chalk marks on a tallyboard.     They'd estimated its height at over 45,000 feet, which was a lot higherthan any mountain on Earth. Yet Mars was much older, geologically. Theentire face of the planet was smoothed into soft, undulating red hillsby erosion. And there in the middle of barren nothingness rose that oneincredible mountain. On certain nights when the stars were right, ithad seemed to Bruce as though it were pointing an accusing finger atEarth—or a warning one.  <doc-sep>Most of the cousins gasped as the truth began to percolate through.     I knew from the very beginning, Conrad finished, that I didn'thave to do anything at all. I just had to wait and you would destroyyourselves.     I don't understand, Bartholomew protested, searching the faces of thecousins closest to him. What does he mean, we have never existed?We're here, aren't we? What—     Shut up! Raymond snapped. He turned on Martin. You don't seemsurprised.     The old man grinned. I'm not. I figured it all out years ago.     At first, he had wondered what he should do. Would it be better tothrow them into a futile panic by telling them or to do nothing? Hehad decided on the latter; that was the role they had assigned him—towatch and wait and keep out of things—and that was the role he wouldplay.     You knew all the time and you didn't tell us! Raymond spluttered.After we'd been so good to you, making a gentleman out of you insteadof a criminal.... That's right, he snarled, a criminal! An alcoholic,a thief, a derelict! How do you like that?     Sounds like a rich, full life, Martin said wistfully.     What an exciting existence they must have done him out of! But then, hecouldn't help thinking, he—he and Conrad together, of course—had donethem out of      any     kind of existence. It wasn't his responsibility,though; he had done nothing but let matters take whatever course wasdestined for them. If only he could be sure that it was the bettercourse, perhaps he wouldn't feel that nagging sense of guilt insidehim. Strange—where, in his hermetic life, could he possibly havedeveloped such a queer thing as a conscience?     Then we've wasted all this time, Ninian sobbed, all this energy, allthis money, for nothing!     But you were nothing to begin with, Martin told them. And then,after a pause, he added, I only wish I could be sure there had beensome purpose to this.     He didn't know whether it was approaching death that dimmed his sight,or whether the frightened crowd that pressed around him was growingshadowy.     I wish I could feel that some good had been done in letting you bewiped out of existence, he went on voicing his thoughts. But I knowthat the same thing that happened to your worlds and my world willhappen all over again. To other people, in other times, but again. It'sbound to happen. There isn't any hope for humanity.     One man couldn't really change the course of human history, he toldhimself. Two men, that was—one real, one a shadow.     Conrad came close to the old man's bed. He was almost transparent.     No, he said, there is hope. They didn't know the time transmitterworks two ways. I used it for going into the past only once—just thisonce. But I've gone into the future with it many times. And— hepressed Martin's hand—believe me, what I did—what      we     did, you andI—serves a purpose. It will change things for the better. Everythingis going to be all right.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What role do Ghost Ships play in GALACTIC GHOST?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What kind of connection exists between Dobbin and Willard in GALACTIC GHOST? [SEP] <s>   GALACTIC GHOST     By WALTER KUBILIUS     The Flying Dutchman of space was a harbinger     of death. But Willard wasn't superstitions.     He had seen the phantom—and lived.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Winter 1942.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The only friend in space Willard had ever known was dying. Dobbin'slips were parched and his breath came spasmodically. The tips of hisfingers that had so many times caressed the control board of the      MaryLou     were now black as meteor dust.     We'll never see Earth again, he whispered feebly, plucked weakly atthe cover.     Nonsense! Willard broke in hurriedly, hoping that the dying manwould not see through the lie. We've got the sun's gravity helpingus drift back to Earth! We'll be there soon! You'll get well soon andwe'll start to work again on a new idea of mine.... His voice trailedhelplessly away and the words were lost. It was no use.     The sick man did not hear him. Two tears rolled down his cheeks. Hisface contorted as he tried to withhold a sob.     To see Earth again! he said weakly. To walk on solid ground oncemore!     Four years! Willard echoed faintly. He knew how his space mate felt.No man can spend four years away from his home planet, and fail to beanguished. A man could live without friends, without fortune, but noman could live without Earth. He was like Anteus, for only the feel ofthe solid ground under his feet could give him courage to go among thestars.     Willard also knew what he dared not admit to himself. He, too, likeDobbin, would never see Earth again. Perhaps, some thousand years fromnow, some lonely wanderers would find their battered hulk of a ship inspace and bring them home again.     Dobbin motioned to him and, in answer to a last request, Willard liftedhim so he faced the port window for a final look at the panorama of thestars.     Dobbin's eyes, dimming and half closed, took in the vast play of theheavens and in his mind he relived the days when in a frail craft hefirst crossed interstellar space. But for Earth-loneliness Dobbin woulddie a happy man, knowing that he had lived as much and as deeply as anyman could.     Silently the two men watched. Dobbin's eyes opened suddenly and atremor seized his body. He turned painfully and looked at Willard.     I saw it! his voice cracked, trembling.     Saw what?     It's true! It's true! It comes whenever a space man dies! It's there!     In heaven's name, Dobbin, Willard demanded, What do you see? What isit?     Dobbin lifted his dark bony arm and pointed out into star-studdedspace.     The Ghost Ship!     Something clicked in Willard's memory. He had heard it spoken of inwhispers by drunken space men and professional tellers of fairy tales.But he had never put any stock in them. In some forgotten corner ofDobbin's mind the legend of the Ghost Ship must have lain, to come upin this time of delirium.     There's nothing there, he said firmly.     It's come—for me! Dobbin cried. He turned his head slowly towardWillard, tried to say something and then fell back upon the pillow. Hismouth was open and his eyes stared unseeing ahead. Dobbin was now onewith the vanished pioneers of yesterday. Willard was alone.     For two days, reckoned in Earth time, Willard kept vigil over the bodyof his friend and space mate. When the time was up he did what wasnecessary and nothing remained of Harry Dobbin, the best friend he hadever had. The atoms of his body were now pure energy stored away in theuseless motors of the      Mary Lou     .  <doc-sep>The weeks that followed were like a blur in Willard's mind. Though theship was utterly incapable of motion, the chance meteor that damagedit had spared the convertors and assimilators. Through constant careand attention the frail balance that meant life or death could be kept.The substance of waste and refuse was torn down and rebuilt as preciousfood and air. It was even possible to create more than was needed.     When this was done, Willard immediately regretted it. For it would bethen that the days and the weeks would roll by endlessly. Sometimeshe thought he would go mad when, sitting at the useless controlboard, which was his habit, he would stare for hours and hours inthe direction of the Sun where he knew the Earth would be. A greatloneliness would then seize upon him and an agony that no man had everknown would tear at his heart. He would then turn away, full of despairand hopeless pain.     Two years after Dobbin's death a strange thing happened. Willard wassitting at his accustomed place facing the unmoving vista of the stars.A chance glance at Orion's belt froze him still. A star had flickered!Distinctly, as if a light veil had been placed over it and then lifted,it dimmed and turned bright again. What strange phenomena was this? Hewatched and then another star faded momentarily in the exact fashion.And then a third! And a fourth! And a fifth!     Willard's heart gave a leap and the lethargy of two years vanishedinstantly. Here, at last, was something to do. It might be only a fewminutes before he would understand what it was, but those few minuteswould help while away the maddening long hours. Perhaps it was a massof fine meteorites or a pocket of gas that did not disperse, or even amoving warp of space-light. Whatever it was, it was a phenomena worthinvestigating and Willard seized upon it as a dying man seizes upon thelast flashing seconds of life.     Willard traced its course by the flickering stars and gradually plottedits semi-circular course. It was not from the solar system but,instead, headed toward it. A rapid check-up on his calculations causedhis heart to beat in ever quickening excitement. Whatever it was, itwould reach the      Mary Lou     .     Again he looked out the port. Unquestionably the faint mass was nearinghis ship. It was round in shape and almost invisible. The stars,though dimmed, could still be seen through it. There was somethingabout its form that reminded him of an old-fashioned rocket ship. Itresembled one of those that had done pioneer service in the lanes fortyyears ago or more. Resembled one? It was one! Unquestionably, thoughhalf-invisible and like a piece of glass immersed in water, it was arocket ship.     But the instruments on the control board could not lie. The presence ofany material body within a hundred thousand miles would be revealed.But the needle on the gauge did not quiver. Nothing indicated thepresence of a ship. But the evidence of his eyes was incontestable.     Or was it? Doubt gripped him. Did the loneliness of all these yearsin space twist his mind till he was imagining the appearance of faintghost-like rocket ships?     The thought shot through his mind like a thunder bolt. Ghost Ship!Was this the thing that Dobbin had seen before he died? But that wasimpossible. Ghost Ships existed nowhere but in legends and tall talestold by men drunk with the liquors of Mars.     There is no ship there. There is no ship there, Willard told himselfover and over again as he looked at the vague outline of the ship, nowmotionless a few hundred miles away.     Deep within him a faint voice cried,       It's come—for me!      but Willardstilled it. This was no fantasy. There was a scientific reason for it.There must be! Or should there be? Throughout all Earth history therehad been Ghost Ships sailing the Seven Seas—ships doomed to roamforever because their crew broke some unbreakable law. If this was truefor the ships of the seas, why not for the ships of empty space?     He looked again at the strange ship. It was motionless. At least it wasnot nearing him. Willard could see nothing but its vague outline. Amoment later he could discern a faint motion. It was turning! The GhostShip was turning back! Unconsciously Willard reached out with his handas if to hold it back, for when it was gone he would be alone again.     But the Ghost Ship went on. Its outline became smaller and smaller,fainter and fainter.     Trembling, Willard turned away from the window as he saw the rocketrecede and vanish into the emptiness of space. Once more the dreadedloneliness of the stars descended upon him.  <doc-sep>Seven years passed and back on Earth in a small newspaper that Willardwould never see there was published a small item:           Arden, Rocketport     —Thirteen years ago the Space Ship      Mary Lou     under John Willard and Larry Dobbin left the Rocket Port for theexploration of an alleged planetoid beyond Pluto. The ship has not beenseen or heard from since. J. Willard, II, son of the lost explorer, isplanning the manufacture of a super-size exploration ship to be called      Mary Lou II     , in memory of his father.     Memories die hard. A man who is alone in space with nothing but thecold friendship of star-light looks back upon memories as the onlythings both dear and precious to him.     Willard, master and lone survivor of the      Mary Lou     , knew this well forhe had tried to rip the memories of Earth out of his heart to ease theanguish of solitude within him. But it was a thing that could not bedone.     And so it was that each night—for Willard did not give up theEarth-habit of keeping time—Willard dreamed of the days he had knownon Earth.     In his mind's eye, he saw himself walking the streets of Arden andfeeling the crunch of snow or the soft slap of rainwater under hisfeet. He heard again, in his mind, the voices of friends he knew.How beautiful and perfect was each voice! How filled with warmth andfriendship! There was the voice of his beautiful wife whom he wouldnever see again. There were the gruff and deep voices of his co-workersand scientists.     Above all there were the voices of the cities, and the fields and theshops where he had worked. All these had their individual voices. Oddthat he had never realized it before, but things become clearer to aman who is alone.     Clearer? Perhaps not. Perhaps they become more clouded. How could he,for example, explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it reallyonly a product of his imagination? What of all the others who hadseen it? Was it possible for many different men under many differentsituations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. Butperhaps space itself denies reason.     Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase hereand a story there put together all that he knew:     Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the GhostShip haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is itstragedy, for it is the home of spacemen who can never go home again.When your last measure of fuel is burnt and your ship becomes alifeless hulk—the Ghost will come—for you!     And this is all there was to the legend. Merely a tale of some fairyship told to amuse and to while away the days of a star-voyage.Bitterly, Willard dismissed it from his mind.     Another year of loneliness passed. And still another. Willard losttrack of the days. It was difficult to keep time for to what purposecould time be kept. Here in space there was no time, nor was therereason for clocks and records. Days and months and years becamemeaningless words for things that once may have had meaning. Aboutthree years must have passed since his last record in the log bookof the      Mary Lou     . At that time, he remembered, he suffered anothergreat disappointment. On the port side there suddenly appeared afull-sized rocket ship. For many minutes Willard was half-mad withjoy thinking that a passing ship was ready to rescue him. But the joywas short-lived, for the rocket ship abruptly turned away and slowlydisappeared. As Willard watched it go away he saw the light of adistant star      through     the space ship. A heart-breaking agony fell uponhim. It was not a ship from Earth. It was the Ghost Ship, mocking him.     Since then Willard did not look out the window of his craft. A vaguefear troubled him that perhaps the Ghost Ship might be here, waitingand watching, and that he would go mad if he saw it.     How many years passed he could not tell. But this he knew. He was nolonger a young man. Perhaps fifteen years has disappeared into nothing.Perhaps twenty. He did not know and he did not care.  <doc-sep>Willard awoke from a deep sleep and prepared his bed. He did it, notbecause it was necessary, but because it was a habit that had long beeningrained in him through the years.     He checked and rechecked every part of the still functioning mechanismof the ship. The radio, even though there was no one to call, was inperfect order. The speed-recording dials, even though there was nospeed to record, were in perfect order. And so with every machine. Allwas in perfect order. Perfect useless order, he thought bitterly, whenthere was no way whatever to get sufficient power to get back to Earth,long forgotten Earth.     He was leaning back in his chair when a vague uneasiness seized him.He arose and slowly walked over to the window, his age already beingmarked in the ache of his bones. Looking out into the silent theater ofthe stars, he suddenly froze.     There was a ship, coming toward him!     For a moment the reason in his mind tottered on a balance. Doubtassailed him. Was this the Ghost Ship come to torment him again? But nophantom this! It was a life and blood rocket ship from Earth! Starlightshone on it and not through it! Its lines, window, vents were all solidand had none of the ghost-like quality he remembered seeing in theGhost Ship in his youth.       For another split second he thought that perhaps he, too, like Dobbin,had gone mad and that the ship would vanish just as it approached him.     The tapping of the space-telegrapher reassured him.     CALLING SPACE SHIP MARY LOU, the message rapped out, CALLING SPACESHIP MARY LOU.     With trembling fingers that he could scarcely control, old Willard sentthe answering message.     SPACE SHIP MARY LOU REPLYING. RECEIVED MESSAGE. THANK GOD!     He broke off, unable to continue. His heart was ready to burst withinhim and the tears of joy were already welling in his eyes. He listenedto the happiest message he had ever heard:     NOTICE THAT SPACE SHIP MARY LOU IS DISABLED AND NOT SPACE WORTHY. YOUARE INVITED TO COME ABOARD. HAVE YOU SPACE SUIT AND—ARE YOU ABLE TOCOME?     Willard, already sobbing with joy, could send only two words.     YES! COMING!     The years of waiting were over. At last he was free of the      Mary Lou     .In a dream like trance, he dressed in his space suit, patheticallyglad that he had already checked every detail of it a short time ago.He realized suddenly that everything about the      Mary Lou     was hateful tohim. It was here that his best friend died, and it was here that twentyyears of his life were wasted completely in solitude and despair.     He took one last look and stepped into the air-lock.     The Earth-ship, he did not see its name, was only a hundred yards awayand a man was already at the air-lock waiting to help him. A rope wastossed to him. He reached for it and made his way to the ship, leavingthe      Mary Lou     behind him forever.     Suddenly the world dropped away from him. Willard could neither see norsay anything. His heart was choked with emotion.     It's all right, a kindly voice assured him, You're safe now.     He had the sensation of being carried by several men and then placed inbed. The quiet of deep sleep descended upon him.  <doc-sep>He awoke with a start and a cry of alarm ran through him as he thoughtthat perhaps he might still be in the      Mary Lou     . The warm, smiling faceof a man quickly reassured him.     I'll call the captain, the space man said. He said to let him knowwhen you came to.     Willard could only nod in weak and grateful acceptance. It was true! Hepressed his head back against the bed's pillows. How soft! How warm! Heyawned and stretched his arms as a thrill of happiness shot through hisentire body.     He would see Earth again! That single thought ran over and over in hismind without stopping. He would see Earth again! Perhaps not this yearand perhaps not the next—for the ship might be on some extra-Plutonianexpedition. But even if it would take years before it returned to homebase Willard knew that those years would fly quickly if Earth was atthe end of the trail.     Though he had aged, he still had many years before him. And thoseyears, he vowed, would be spent on Earth and nowhere else.     The captain, a pleasant old fellow, came into the room as Willard stoodup and tried to walk. The gravity here was a bit different from that ofhis ship, but he would manage.     How do you feel, Space Man Willard?     Oh, you know me? Willard looked at him in surprise, and then smiled,Of course, you looked through the log book of the      Mary Lou     .     The captain nodded and Willard noticed with surprise that he was a veryold man.     You don't know how much I suffered there, Willard said slowly,measuring each word. Years in space—all alone! It's a horrible thing!     Yes? the old captain said.     Many times I thought I would go completely mad. It was only thethought and hope that some day, somehow, an Earth-ship would find meand help me get back to Earth. If it was not for that, I would havedied. I could think of nothing but of Earth, of blue green water, ofvast open spaces and the good brown earth. How beautiful it must benow!     A note of sadness, matched only by that of Willard's, entered thecaptain's eyes.     I want to walk on Earth just once—then I can die.     Willard stopped. A happy dreamy smile touched his lips.     When will we go to Earth? he asked.     The Captain did not answer. Willard waited and a strange memory tuggedat him.     You don't know, the Captain said. It was not a question or astatement. The Captain found it hard to say it. His lips moved slowly.     Willard stepped back and before the Captain told him,      he knew     .     Matter is relative, he said, the existent under one condition isnon-existent under another. The real here is the non-real there. Allthings that wander alone in space are gradually drained of their massand energy until nothing is left but mere shells. That is what happenedto the      Mary Lou     . Your ship was real when we passed by twenty yearsago. It is now like ours, a vague outline in space. We cannot feelthe change ourselves, for change is relative. That is why we becamemore and more solid to you, as you became more and more faint to anyEarth-ship that might have passed. We are real—to ourselves. But tosome ship from Earth which has not been in space for more than fifteenyears—to that ship, to all intents and purposes, we do not exist.     Then this ship, Willard said, stunned, you and I and everything onit...     ... are doomed, the Captain said. We cannot go to Earth for thesimple reason that we would go      through     it!     The vision of Earth and green trees faded. He would never see Earthagain. He would never feel the crunch of ground under feet as hewalked. Never would listen to the voices of friends and the songs ofbirds. Never. Never. Never....     Then this is the Ghost Ship and we are the Ghosts!     Yes.   <doc-sep>Opperly looked at him with a gentle appraisal. You're a strong andvital man, Willard, with a strong man's prides and desires. His voicetrailed off for a bit. Then, Excuse me, Willard, but wasn't there agirl once? A Miss Arkady?     Farquar's ungainly figure froze. He nodded curtly, face averted.     And didn't she go off with a Thinker?     If girls find me ugly, that's their business, Farquar said harshly,still not looking at Opperly. What's that got to do with thisinvitation?     Opperly didn't answer the question. His eyes got more distant. Finallyhe said, In my day we had it a lot easier. A scientist was anacademician, cushioned by tradition.     Willard snorted. Science had already entered the era of the policeinspectors, with laboratory directors and political appointees stiflingenterprise.     Perhaps, Opperly agreed. Still, the scientist lived the safe,restricted, highly respectable life of a university man. He wasn'texposed to the temptations of the world.     Farquar turned on him. Are you implying that the Thinkers will somehowbe able to buy me off?     Not exactly.     You think I'll be persuaded to change my aims? Farquar demandedangrily.     Opperly shrugged his helplessness. No, I don't think you'll changeyour aims.     Clouds encroaching from the west blotted the parallelogram of sunlightbetween the two men.  <doc-sep>Opperly continued his inspection of the flowers' bells. All the morereason not to poke sticks through the bars at the lions and tigersstrolling outside. No, Willard, I'm not counseling appeasement. Butconsider the age in which we live. It wants magicians. His voice grewespecially tranquil. A scientist tells people the truth. When timesare good—that is, when the truth offers no threat—people don't mind.But when times are very, very bad.... A shadow darkened his eyes.Well, we all know what happened to— And he mentioned three namesthat had been household words in the middle of the century. Theywere the names on the brass plaque dedicated to the martyred threephysicists.     He went on, A magician, on the other hand, tells people what theywish were true—that perpetual motion works, that cancer can be curedby colored lights, that a psychosis is no worse than a head cold, thatthey'll live forever. In good times magicians are laughed at. They're aluxury of the spoiled wealthy few. But in bad times people sell theirsouls for magic cures, and buy perpetual motion machines to power theirwar rockets.     Farquar clenched his fist. All the more reason to keep chipping awayat the Thinkers. Are we supposed to beg off from a job because it'sdifficult and dangerous?     Opperly shook his head. We're to keep clear of the infection ofviolence. In my day, Willard, I was one of the Frightened Men. Later Iwas one of the Angry Men and then one of the Minds of Despair. Now I'mconvinced that all my reactions were futile.     Exactly! Farquar agreed harshly. You reacted. You didn't act. Ifyou men who discovered atomic energy had only formed a secret league,if you'd only had the foresight and the guts to use your tremendousbargaining position to demand the power to shape mankind's future....     By the time you were born, Willard, Opperly interrupted dreamily,Hitler was merely a name in the history books. We scientists weren'tthe stuff out of which cloak-and-dagger men are made. Can you imagineOppenheimer wearing a mask or Einstein sneaking into the Old WhiteHouse with a bomb in his briefcase? He smiled. Besides, that's notthe way power is seized. New ideas aren't useful to the man bargainingfor power—only established facts or lies are.     Just the same, it would have been a good thing if you'd had a littleviolence in you.     No, Opperly said.     I've got violence in me, Farquar announced, shoving himself to hisfeet.  <doc-sep>She glanced down at the data. Denton Cassal, native of Earth.Destination, Tunney 21. She looked up at him. Occupation, salesengineer. Isn't that an odd combination? Her smile was quite superior.     Not at all. Scientific training as an engineer. Special knowledge ofcustomer relations.     Special knowledge of a thousand races? How convenient. Her eyebrowsarched.     I think so, he agreed blandly. Anything else you'd like to know?     Sorry. I didn't mean to offend you.     He could believe that or not as he wished. He didn't.     You refused to answer why you were going to Tunney 21. Perhaps I canguess. They're the best scientists in the Galaxy. You wish to studyunder them.     Close—but wrong on two counts. They were good scientists, though notnecessarily the best. For instance, it was doubtful that they couldbuild Dimanche, even if they had ever thought of it, which was evenless likely.     There was, however, one relatively obscure research worker on Tunney 21that Neuronics wanted on their staff. If the fragments of his studiesthat had reached Earth across the vast distance meant anything, hecould help Neuronics perfect instantaneous radio. The company thatcould build a radio to span the reaches of the Galaxy with no time lagcould set its own price, which could be control of all communications,transport, trade—a galactic monopoly. Cassal's share would be a cut ofall that.     His part was simple, on the surface. He was to persuade that researcherto come to Earth,      if he could     . Literally, he had to guess theTunnesian's price before the Tunnesian himself knew it. In addition,the reputation of Tunnesian scientists being exceeded only by theirarrogance, Cassal had to convince him that he wouldn't be workingfor ignorant Earth savages. The existence of such an instrument asDimanche was a key factor.     Her voice broke through his thoughts. Now, then, what's your problem?     I was told on Earth I might have to wait a few days on Godolph. I'vebeen here three weeks. I want information on the ship bound for Tunney21.     Just a moment. She glanced at something below the angle of thescreen. She looked up and her eyes were grave.       Rickrock C     arrivedyesterday. Departed for Tunney early this morning.     Departed? He got up and sat down again, swallowing hard. When willthe next ship arrive?     Do you know how many stars there are in the Galaxy? she asked.     He didn't answer.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What kind of connection exists between Dobbin and Willard in GALACTIC GHOST?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a synopsis of the storyline in AIDE MEMOIRE? [SEP] <s>It was quite a bang, said Retief. But I guess you saw it, too.     No, confound it, Magnan said. When I remonstrated with Hulk, orWhelk—     Whonk.     —the ruffian thrust me into an alley bound in my own cloak. I'll mostcertainly complain to the Minister.     How about the surgical mission?     A most generous offer, said Magnan. Frankly, I was astonished. Ithink perhaps we've judged the Groaci too harshly.     I hear the Ministry of Youth has had a rough morning of it, saidRetief. And a lot of rumors are flying to the effect that Youth Groupsare on the way out.     Magnan cleared his throat, shuffled papers. I—ah—have explained tothe press that last night's—ah—     Fiasco.     —affair was necessary in order to place the culprits in an untenableposition. Of course, as to the destruction of the VIP vessel and thepresumed death of, uh, Slop.     The Fustians understand, said Retief. Whonk wasn't kidding aboutceremonial vengeance.     The Groaci had been guilty of gross misuse of diplomatic privilege,said Magnan. I think that a note—or perhaps an Aide Memoire: lessformal....     The      Moss Rock     was bound for Groaci, said Retief. She was alreadyin her transit orbit when she blew. The major fragments will arrive onschedule in a month or so. It should provide quite a meteorite display.I think that should be all the      aide     the Groaci's      memoires     will needto keep their tentacles off Fust.     But diplomatic usage—     Then, too, the less that's put in writing, the less they can blame youfor, if anything goes wrong.     That's true, said Magnan, lips pursed. Now you're thinkingconstructively, Retief. We may make a diplomat of you yet. He smiledexpansively.     Maybe. But I refuse to let it depress me. Retief stood up. I'mtaking a few weeks off ... if you have no objection, Mr. Ambassador. Mypal Whonk wants to show me an island down south where the fishing isgood.     But there are some extremely important matters coming up, saidMagnan. We're planning to sponsor Senior Citizen Groups—     Count me out. All groups give me an itch.     Why, what an astonishing remark, Retief! After all, we diplomats areourselves a group.     Uh-huh, Retief said.     Magnan sat quietly, mouth open, and watched as Retief stepped into thehall and closed the door gently behind him.   <doc-sep>   AIDE MEMOIRE     BY KEITH LAUMER     The Fustians looked like turtles—but     they could move fast when they chose!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Across the table from Retief, Ambassador Magnan rustled a stiff sheetof parchment and looked grave.     This aide memoire, he said, was just handed to me by the CulturalAttache. It's the third on the subject this week. It refers to thematter of sponsorship of Youth groups—     Some youths, Retief said. Average age, seventy-five.     The Fustians are a long-lived people, Magnan snapped. These mattersare relative. At seventy-five, a male Fustian is at a trying age—     That's right. He'll try anything—in the hope it will maim somebody.     Precisely the problem, Magnan said. But the Youth Movement isthe important news in today's political situation here on Fust. Andsponsorship of Youth groups is a shrewd stroke on the part of theTerrestrial Embassy. At my suggestion, well nigh every member of themission has leaped at the opportunity to score a few p—that is, cementrelations with this emergent power group—the leaders of the future.You, Retief, as Councillor, are the outstanding exception.     I'm not convinced these hoodlums need my help in organizing theirrumbles, Retief said. Now, if you have a proposal for a pest controlgroup—     To the Fustians this is no jesting matter, Magnan cut in. Thisgroup— he glanced at the paper—known as the Sexual, Cultural, andAthletic Recreational Society, or SCARS for short, has been awaitingsponsorship for a matter of weeks now.     Meaning they want someone to buy them a clubhouse, uniforms, equipmentand anything else they need to complete their sexual, cultural andathletic development, Retief said.     If we don't act promptly, Magnan said, the Groaci Embassy may wellanticipate us. They're very active here.     That's an idea, said Retief. Let 'em. After awhile they'll go brokeinstead of us.     Nonsense. The group requires a sponsor. I can't actually order you tostep forward. However.... Magnan let the sentence hang in the air.Retief raised one eyebrow.     For a minute there, he said, I thought you were going to make apositive statement.  <doc-sep>The old man stared at the door, an obsolete visual projector wobblingprecariously on his head. He closed his eyes and the lettering on thedoor disappeared. Cassal was too far away to see what it had been. Thetechnician opened his eyes and concentrated. Slowly a new sign formedon the door.     TRAVELERS AID BUREAU     Murra Foray, First Counselor     It was a drab sign, but, then, it was a dismal, backward planet. Theold technician passed on to the next door and closed his eyes again.     With a sinking feeling, Cassal walked toward the entrance. He neededhelp and he had to find it in this dingy rathole.     Inside, though, it wasn't dingy and it wasn't a rathole. More like amaze, an approved scientific one. Efficient, though not comfortable.Travelers Aid was busier than he thought it would be. Eventually hemanaged to squeeze into one of the many small counseling rooms.     A woman appeared on the screen, crisp and cool. Please answereverything the machine asks. When the tape is complete, I'll beavailable for consultation.     Cassal wasn't sure he was going to like her. Is this necessary? heasked. It's merely a matter of information.     We have certain regulations we abide by. The woman smiled frostily.I can't give you any information until you comply with them.     Sometimes regulations are silly, said Cassal firmly. Let me speak tothe first counselor.     You are speaking to her, she said. Her face disappeared from thescreen.     Cassal sighed. So far he hadn't made a good impression.     Travelers Aid Bureau, in addition to regulations, was abundantlysupplied with official curiosity. When the machine finished with him,Cassal had the feeling he could be recreated from the record it had ofhim. His individuality had been capsuled into a series of questions andanswers. One thing he drew the line at—why he wanted to go to Tunney21 was his own business.     The first counselor reappeared. Age, indeterminate. Not, he supposed,that anyone would be curious about it. Slightly taller than average,rather on the slender side. Face was broad at the brow, narrow at thechin and her eyes were enigmatic. A dangerous woman.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>I've got it, said Dimanche as Cassal gloomily counted out the sum thefirst counselor had named.     Got what? asked Cassal. He rolled the currency into a neat bundle,attached his name, and dropped it into the chute.     The woman, Murra Foray, the first counselor. She's a Huntner.     What's a Huntner?     A sub-race of men on the other side of the Galaxy. She was vocalizingabout her home planet when I managed to locate her.     Any other information?     None. Electronic guards were sliding into place as soon as I reachedher. I got out as fast as I could.     I see. The significance of that, if any, escaped him. Nevertheless,it sounded depressing.     What I want to know is, said Dimanche, why such precautions aselectronic guards? What does Travelers Aid have that's so secret?     Cassal grunted and didn't answer. Dimanche could be annoyinglyinquisitive at times.     Cassal had entered one side of a block-square building. He came out onthe other side. The agency was larger than he had thought. The old manwas staring at a door as Cassal came out. He had apparently changedevery sign in the building. His work finished, the technician wasremoving the visual projector from his head as Cassal came up to him.He turned and peered.     You stuck here, too? he asked in the uneven voice of the aged.     Stuck? repeated Cassal. I suppose you can call it that. I'm waitingfor my ship. He frowned. He was the one who wanted to ask questions.Why all the redecoration? I thought Travelers Aid was an old agency.Why did you change so many signs? I could understand it if the agencywere new.     The old man chuckled. Re-organization. The previous first counselorresigned suddenly, in the middle of the night, they say. The new onedidn't like the name of the agency, so she ordered it changed.     She would do just that, thought Cassal. What about this Murra Foray?     The old man winked mysteriously. He opened his mouth and then seemedovercome with senile fright. Hurriedly he shuffled away.     Cassal gazed after him, baffled. The old man was afraid for his job,afraid of the first counselor. Why he should be, Cassal didn't know. Heshrugged and went on. The agency was now in motion in his behalf, buthe didn't intend to depend on that alone.  <doc-sep>   HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS     By JIM HARMON     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Every lonely man tries to make friends.     Manet just didn't know when to stop!      William Manet was alone.     In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It wouldgive him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlateloneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take himto start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to beginteaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminablelectures to a bored and captive audience of one.     He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whetherit was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and asdirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal andthink more like a god than any man for generations.     But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearingbore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.     Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was alreadytalking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he hadcut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up andwinked at it whenever he passed that way.     Lately she was winking back at him.     Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh fromhis arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.     No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manetcould only be this lonely on Mars.     Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.     All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middleof the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat,flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in theblack sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moonsand one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The wholegimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one wasneeded here—no human being, at least.     The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn'ttake much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefullyspecified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycombMars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.     They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated peoplefor the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going toisolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manetand his fellows.     The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fareto Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuterservice for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodationsfor couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren'tproviding fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits betweenthe various Overseers. They weren't very providential.     But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offeredwonderful opportunities.     It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship makinga tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning asbright as envy.  <doc-sep>The experts in logic arrived shortly, and in no uncertain terms Korvinwas given to understand that logical paradox was not going to confuseanybody on the planet. The barber who did, or didn't, shave himself,the secretary of the club whose members were secretaries, Achilles andthe tortoise, and all the other lovely paradox-models scattered aroundwere so much primer material for the Tr'en. They can be treatedmathematically, one of the experts, a small emerald-green being, toldKorvin thinly. Of course, you would not understand the mathematics.But that is not important. You need only understand that we cannot beconfused by such means.     Good, Korvin said.     The experts blinked. Good? he said.     Naturally, Korvin said in a friendly tone.     The expert frowned horribly, showing all of his teeth. Korvin did hisbest not to react. Your plan is a failure, the expert said, and youcall this a good thing. You can mean only that your plan is differentfrom the one we are occupied with.     True, Korvin said.     There was a short silence. The expert beamed. He examined theindicators of the lie-detector with great care. What is your plan?he said at last, in a conspiratorial whisper.     To answer your questions, truthfully and logically, Korvin said.     The silence this time was even longer.     The machine says that you tell the truth, the experts said at last,in a awed tone. Thus, you must be a traitor to your native planet.You must want us to conquer your planet, and have come here secretlyto aid us.     Korvin was very glad that wasn't a question. It was, after all, theonly logical deduction.     But it happened to be wrong.  <doc-sep>   A Gift From Earth     By MANLY BANISTER     Illustrated by KOSSIN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction August 1955.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]         Except for transportation, it was absolutely       free ... but how much would the freight cost?        It is an outrage, said Koltan of the House of Masur, that theEarthmen land among the Thorabians!     Zotul, youngest of the Masur brothers, stirred uneasily. Personally, hewas in favor of the coming of the Earthmen to the world of Zur.     At the head of the long, shining table sat old Kalrab Masur, in hisdotage, but still giving what he could of aid and comfort to thePottery of Masur, even though nobody listened to him any more andhe knew it. Around the table sat the six brothers—Koltan, eldestand Director of the Pottery; Morvan, his vice-chief; Singula, theirtreasurer; Thendro, sales manager; Lubiosa, export chief; and last inthe rank of age, Zotul, who was responsible for affairs of design.     Behold, my sons, said Kalrab, stroking his scanty beard. What arethese Earthmen to worry about? Remember the clay. It is our strengthand our fortune. It is the muscle and bone of our trade. Earthmen maycome and Earthmen may go, but clay goes on forever ... and with it, thefame and fortune of the House of Masur.     It      is     a damned imposition, agreed Morvan, ignoring his father'sphilosophical attitude. They could have landed just as easily here inLor.     The Thorabians will lick up the gravy, said Singula, whose mind ranrather to matters of financial aspect, and leave us the grease.     By this, he seemed to imply that the Thorabians would rob the Earthmen,which the Lorians would not. The truth was that all on Zur were pantingto get their hands on that marvelous ship, which was all of metal, avery scarce commodity on Zur, worth billions of ken.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a synopsis of the storyline in AIDE MEMOIRE?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What are the characteristics of the Fustian life cycle and culture, as described in AIDE MEMOIRE? [SEP] <s>   AIDE MEMOIRE     BY KEITH LAUMER     The Fustians looked like turtles—but     they could move fast when they chose!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Across the table from Retief, Ambassador Magnan rustled a stiff sheetof parchment and looked grave.     This aide memoire, he said, was just handed to me by the CulturalAttache. It's the third on the subject this week. It refers to thematter of sponsorship of Youth groups—     Some youths, Retief said. Average age, seventy-five.     The Fustians are a long-lived people, Magnan snapped. These mattersare relative. At seventy-five, a male Fustian is at a trying age—     That's right. He'll try anything—in the hope it will maim somebody.     Precisely the problem, Magnan said. But the Youth Movement isthe important news in today's political situation here on Fust. Andsponsorship of Youth groups is a shrewd stroke on the part of theTerrestrial Embassy. At my suggestion, well nigh every member of themission has leaped at the opportunity to score a few p—that is, cementrelations with this emergent power group—the leaders of the future.You, Retief, as Councillor, are the outstanding exception.     I'm not convinced these hoodlums need my help in organizing theirrumbles, Retief said. Now, if you have a proposal for a pest controlgroup—     To the Fustians this is no jesting matter, Magnan cut in. Thisgroup— he glanced at the paper—known as the Sexual, Cultural, andAthletic Recreational Society, or SCARS for short, has been awaitingsponsorship for a matter of weeks now.     Meaning they want someone to buy them a clubhouse, uniforms, equipmentand anything else they need to complete their sexual, cultural andathletic development, Retief said.     If we don't act promptly, Magnan said, the Groaci Embassy may wellanticipate us. They're very active here.     That's an idea, said Retief. Let 'em. After awhile they'll go brokeinstead of us.     Nonsense. The group requires a sponsor. I can't actually order you tostep forward. However.... Magnan let the sentence hang in the air.Retief raised one eyebrow.     For a minute there, he said, I thought you were going to make apositive statement.  <doc-sep>It was quite a bang, said Retief. But I guess you saw it, too.     No, confound it, Magnan said. When I remonstrated with Hulk, orWhelk—     Whonk.     —the ruffian thrust me into an alley bound in my own cloak. I'll mostcertainly complain to the Minister.     How about the surgical mission?     A most generous offer, said Magnan. Frankly, I was astonished. Ithink perhaps we've judged the Groaci too harshly.     I hear the Ministry of Youth has had a rough morning of it, saidRetief. And a lot of rumors are flying to the effect that Youth Groupsare on the way out.     Magnan cleared his throat, shuffled papers. I—ah—have explained tothe press that last night's—ah—     Fiasco.     —affair was necessary in order to place the culprits in an untenableposition. Of course, as to the destruction of the VIP vessel and thepresumed death of, uh, Slop.     The Fustians understand, said Retief. Whonk wasn't kidding aboutceremonial vengeance.     The Groaci had been guilty of gross misuse of diplomatic privilege,said Magnan. I think that a note—or perhaps an Aide Memoire: lessformal....     The      Moss Rock     was bound for Groaci, said Retief. She was alreadyin her transit orbit when she blew. The major fragments will arrive onschedule in a month or so. It should provide quite a meteorite display.I think that should be all the      aide     the Groaci's      memoires     will needto keep their tentacles off Fust.     But diplomatic usage—     Then, too, the less that's put in writing, the less they can blame youfor, if anything goes wrong.     That's true, said Magnan, lips pursed. Now you're thinkingconstructively, Retief. We may make a diplomat of you yet. He smiledexpansively.     Maybe. But I refuse to let it depress me. Retief stood up. I'mtaking a few weeks off ... if you have no objection, Mr. Ambassador. Mypal Whonk wants to show me an island down south where the fishing isgood.     But there are some extremely important matters coming up, saidMagnan. We're planning to sponsor Senior Citizen Groups—     Count me out. All groups give me an itch.     Why, what an astonishing remark, Retief! After all, we diplomats areourselves a group.     Uh-huh, Retief said.     Magnan sat quietly, mouth open, and watched as Retief stepped into thehall and closed the door gently behind him.   <doc-sep>The second dark of the third cycle was lightening when Retief left theEmbassy technical library and crossed the corridor to his office. Heflipped on a light. A note was tucked under a paperweight:     Retief—I shall expect your attendance at the IAS dinner at firstdark of the fourth cycle. There will be a brief but, I hope, impressiveSponsorship ceremony for the SCARS group, with full press coverage,arrangements for which I have managed to complete in spite of yourintransigence.     Retief snorted and glanced at his watch. Less than three hours. Justtime to creep home by flat-car, dress in ceremonial uniform and creepback.     Outside he flagged a lumbering bus. He stationed himself in a cornerand watched the yellow sun, Beta, rise rapidly above the low skyline.The nearby sea was at high tide now, under the pull of the major sunand the three moons, and the stiff breeze carried a mist of salt spray.     Retief turned up his collar against the dampness. In half an hour hewould be perspiring under the vertical rays of a third-noon sun, butthe thought failed to keep the chill off.     Two Youths clambered up on the platform, moving purposefully towardRetief. He moved off the rail, watching them, weight balanced.     That's close enough, kids, he said. Plenty of room on this scow. Noneed to crowd up.     There are certain films, the lead Fustian muttered. His voice wasunusually deep for a Youth. He was wrapped in a heavy cloak and movedawkwardly. His adolescence was nearly at an end, Retief guessed.     I told you once, said Retief. Don't crowd me.     The two stepped close, slit mouths snapping in anger. Retief put out afoot, hooked it behind the scaly leg of the overaged juvenile and threwhis weight against the cloaked chest. The clumsy Fustian tottered, fellheavily. Retief was past him and off the flat-car before the otherYouth had completed his vain lunge toward the spot Retief had occupied.The Terrestrial waved cheerfully at the pair, hopped aboard anothervehicle, watched his would-be assailants lumber down from their car,tiny heads twisted to follow his retreating figure.     So they wanted the film? Retief reflected, thumbing a cigar alight.They were a little late. He had already filed it in the Embassy vault,after running a copy for the reference files.     And a comparison of the drawings with those of the obsolete Mark XXXVbattle cruiser used two hundred years earlier by the Concordiat NavalArm showed them to be almost identical, gun emplacements and all. Theterm obsolete was a relative one. A ship which had been outmoded inthe armories of the Galactic Powers could still be king of the walk inthe Eastern Arm.     But how had these two known of the film? There had been no one presentbut himself and the old-timer—and he was willing to bet the elderlyFustian hadn't told them anything.     At least not willingly....     Retief frowned, dropped the cigar over the side, waited until theflat-car negotiated a mud-wallow, then swung down and headed for theshipyard.  <doc-sep>Magnan leaned back, lacing his fingers over his stomach. I don't thinkyou'll find a diplomat of my experience doing anything so naive, hesaid.     I like the adult Fustians, said Retief. Too bad they have to lughalf a ton of horn around on their backs. I wonder if surgery wouldhelp.     Great heavens, Retief, Magnan sputtered. I'm amazed that even youwould bring up a matter of such delicacy. A race's unfortunate physicalcharacteristics are hardly a fit matter for Terrestrial curiosity.     Well, of course your experience of the Fustian mentality is greaterthan mine. I've only been here a month. But it's been my experience,Mr. Ambassador, that few races are above improving on nature. Otherwiseyou, for example, would be tripping over your beard.     Magnan shuddered. Please—never mention the idea to a Fustian.     Retief stood. My own program for the day includes going over to thedockyards. There are some features of this new passenger liner theFustians are putting together that I want to look into. With yourpermission, Mr. Ambassador...?     Magnan snorted. Your pre-occupation with the trivial disturbs me,Retief. More interest in substantive matters—such as working withYouth groups—would create a far better impression.     Before getting too involved with these groups, it might be a good ideato find out a little more about them, said Retief. Who organizesthem? There are three strong political parties here on Fust. What's thealignment of this SCARS organization?     You forget, these are merely teenagers, so to speak, Magnan said.Politics mean nothing to them ... yet.     Then there are the Groaci. Why their passionate interest in atwo-horse world like Fust? Normally they're concerned with nothing butbusiness. But what has Fust got that they could use?     You may rule out the commercial aspect in this instance, said Magnan.Fust possesses a vigorous steel-age manufacturing economy. The Groaciare barely ahead of them.     Barely, said Retief. Just over the line into crude atomics ... likefission bombs.     Magnan shook his head, turned back to his papers. What market existsfor such devices on a world at peace? I suggest you address yourattention to the less spectacular but more rewarding work of studyingthe social patterns of the local youth.     I've studied them, said Retief. And before I meet any of the localyouth socially I want to get myself a good blackjack.      II     Retief left the sprawling bungalow-type building that housed thechancery of the Terrestrial Embassy, swung aboard a passing flat-carand leaned back against the wooden guard rail as the heavy vehicletrundled through the city toward the looming gantries of the shipyards.     It was a cool morning. A light breeze carried the fishy odor of Fustydwellings across the broad cobbled avenue. A few mature Fustianslumbered heavily along in the shade of the low buildings, audiblywheezing under the burden of their immense carapaces. Among them,shell-less youths trotted briskly on scaly stub legs. The driver of theflat-car, a labor-caste Fustian with his guild colors emblazoned on hisback, heaved at the tiller, swung the unwieldy conveyance through theshipyard gates, creaked to a halt.     Thus I come to the shipyard with frightful speed, he said in Fustian.Well I know the way of the naked-backs, who move always in haste.     Retief climbed down, handed him a coin. You should take upprofessional racing, he said. Daredevil.     He crossed the littered yard and tapped at the door of a rambling shed.Boards creaked inside. Then the door swung back.     A gnarled ancient with tarnished facial scales and a weathered carapacepeered out at Retief.     Long-may-you-sleep, said Retief. I'd like to take a look around, ifyou don't mind. I understand you're laying the bedplate for your newliner today.       May-you-dream-of-the-deeps, the old fellow mumbled. He waved a stumpyarm toward a group of shell-less Fustians standing by a massive hoist.The youths know more of bedplates than do I, who but tend the place ofpapers.     I know how you feel, old-timer, said Retief. That sounds like thestory of my life. Among your papers do you have a set of plans for thevessel? I understand it's to be a passenger liner.     The oldster nodded. He shuffled to a drawing file, rummaged, pulled outa sheaf of curled prints and spread them on the table. Retief stoodsilently, running a finger over the uppermost drawing, tracing lines....     What does the naked-back here? barked a deep voice behind Retief. Heturned. A heavy-faced Fustian youth, wrapped in a mantle, stood at theopen door. Beady yellow eyes set among fine scales bored into Retief.     I came to take a look at your new liner, said Retief.     We need no prying foreigners here, the youth snapped. His eye fell onthe drawings. He hissed in sudden anger.     Doddering hulk! he snapped at the ancient. May you toss innightmares! Put by the plans!     My mistake, Retief said. I didn't know this was a secret project.  <doc-sep>The door, hinges torn loose, had been propped loosely back in position.Retief looked around at the battered interior of the shed. The oldfellow had put up a struggle.     There were deep drag-marks in the dust behind the building. Retieffollowed them across the yard. They disappeared under the steel door ofa warehouse.     Retief glanced around. Now, at the mid-hour of the fourth cycle, theworkmen were heaped along the edge of the refreshment pond, deep intheir siesta. He took a multi-bladed tool from a pocket, tried variousfittings in the lock. It snicked open.     He eased the door aside far enough to enter.     Heaped bales loomed before him. Snapping on the tiny lamp in the handleof the combination tool, Retief looked over the pile. One stack seemedout of alignment ... and the dust had been scraped from the floorbefore it. He pocketed the light, climbed up on the bales, looked overinto a nest made by stacking the bundles around a clear spot. The agedFustian lay in it, on his back, a heavy sack tied over his head.     Retief dropped down inside the ring of bales, sawed at the tough twineand pulled the sack free.     It's me, old fellow, Retief said. The nosy stranger. Sorry I got youinto this.     The oldster threshed his gnarled legs. He rocked slightly and fellback. A curse on the cradle that rocked their infant slumbers, herumbled. But place me back on my feet and I hunt down the youth,Slock, though he flee to the bottommost muck of the Sea of Torments.     How am I going to get you out of here? Maybe I'd better get some help.     Nay. The perfidious Youths abound here, said the old Fustian. Itwould be your life.     I doubt if they'd go that far.     Would they not? The Fustian stretched his neck. Cast your lighthere. But for the toughness of my hide....     Retief put the beam of the light on the leathery neck. A great smear ofthick purplish blood welled from a ragged cut. The oldster chuckled, asound like a seal coughing.     Traitor, they called me. For long they sawed at me—in vain. Thenthey trussed me and dumped me here. They think to return with weaponsto complete the task.     Weapons? I thought it was illegal!     Their evil genius, the Soft One, said the Fustian. He would providefuel to the Devil himself.     The Groaci again, said Retief. I wonder what their angle is.     And I must confess, I told them of you, ere I knew their fullintentions. Much can I tell you of their doings. But first, I pray, theblock and tackle.     Retief found the hoist where the Fustian directed him, maneuvered itinto position, hooked onto the edge of the carapace and hauled away.The immense Fustian rose slowly, teetered ... then flopped on his chest.     Slowly he got to his feet.     My name is Whonk, fleet one, he said. My cows are yours.     Thanks. I'm Retief. I'd like to meet the girls some time. But rightnow, let's get out of here.     Whonk leaned his bulk against the ponderous stacks of baled kelp,bulldozed them aside. Slow am I to anger, he said, but implacable inmy wrath. Slock, beware!     Hold it, said Retief suddenly. He sniffed. What's that odor? Heflashed the light around, played it over a dry stain on the floor. Heknelt, sniffed at the spot.     What kind of cargo was stacked here, Whonk? And where is it now?     Whonk considered. There were drums, he said. Four of them, quitesmall, painted an evil green, the property of the Soft Ones, theGroaci. They lay here a day and a night. At full dark of the firstperiod they came with stevedores and loaded them aboard the barge      MossRock     .     The VIP boat. Who's scheduled to use it?     I know not. But what matters this? Let us discuss cargo movementsafter I have settled a score with certain Youths.     We'd better follow this up first, Whonk. There's only one substance Iknow of that's transported in drums and smells like that blot on thefloor. That's titanite: the hottest explosive this side of a uraniumpile.      III     Beta was setting as Retief, Whonk puffing at his heels, came up to thesentry box beside the gangway leading to the plush interior of theofficial luxury space barge      Moss Rock     .     A sign of the times, said Whonk, glancing inside the empty shelter.A guard should stand here, but I see him not. Doubtless he crept awayto sleep.     Let's go aboard and take a look around.     They entered the ship. Soft lights glowed in utter silence. A rough boxstood on the floor, rollers and pry-bars beside it—a discordant notein the muted luxury of the setting. Whonk rummaged in it.     Curious, he said. What means this? He held up a stained cloak oforange and green, a metal bracelet, papers.     Orange and green, mused Relief. Whose colors are those?     I know not. Whonk glanced at the arm-band. But this is lettered. Hepassed the metal band to Retief.     SCARS, Retief read. He looked at Whonk. It seems to me I've heardthe name before, he murmured. Let's get back to the Embassy—fast.     Back on the ramp Retief heard a sound ... and turned in time to duckthe charge of a hulking Fustian youth who thundered past him andfetched up against the broad chest of Whonk, who locked him in a warmembrace.     Nice catch, Whonk. Where'd he sneak out of?     The lout hid there by the storage bin, rumbled Whonk. The captiveyouth thumped fists and toes fruitlessly against the oldster's carapace.     Hang onto him, said Retief. He looks like the biting kind.     No fear. Clumsy I am, yet not without strength.     Ask him where the titanite is tucked away.     Speak, witless grub, growled Whonk, lest I tweak you in twain.     The youth gurgled.     Better let up before you make a mess of him, said Retief. Whonklifted the Youth clear of the floor, then flung him down with a thumpthat made the ground quiver. The younger Fustian glared up at theelder, mouth snapping.     This one was among those who trussed me and hid me away for thekilling, said Whonk. In his repentance he will tell all to his elder.     That's the same young squirt that tried to strike up an acquaintancewith me on the bus, Retief said. He gets around.     The youth scrambled to hands and knees, scuttled for freedom. Retiefplanted a foot on his dragging cloak; it ripped free. He stared at thebare back of the Fustian—     By the Great Egg! Whonk exclaimed, tripping the refugee as he triedto rise. This is no Youth! His carapace has been taken from him!     Retief looked at the scarred back. I thought he looked a little old.But I thought—     This is not possible, Whonk said wonderingly. The great nerve trunksare deeply involved. Not even the cleverest surgeon could excise thecarapace and leave the patient living.     It looks like somebody did the trick. But let's take this boy with usand get out of here. His folks may come home.     Too late, said Whonk. Retief turned.     Three youths came from behind the sheds.     Well, Retief said. It looks like the SCARS are out in force tonight.Where's your pal? he said to the advancing trio. The sticky littlebird with the eye-stalks? Back at his Embassy, leaving you suckersholding the bag, I'll bet.     Shelter behind me, Retief, said Whonk.     Go get 'em, old-timer. Retief stooped, picked up one of the pry-bars.I'll jump around and distract them.     Whonk let out a whistling roar and charged for the immature Fustians.They fanned out ... and one tripped, sprawled on his face. Retiefwhirled the metal bar he had thrust between the Fustian's legs, slammedit against the skull of another, who shook his head, turned onRetief ... and bounced off the steel hull of the      Moss Rock     as Whonktook him in full charge.     Retief used the bar on another head. His third blow laid the Fustianon the pavement, oozing purple. The other two club members departedhastily, seriously dented but still mobile.     Retief leaned on his club, breathing hard. Tough heads these kidshave got. I'm tempted to chase those two lads down, but I've gotanother errand to run. I don't know who the Groaci intended to blast,but I have a sneaking suspicion somebody of importance was scheduledfor a boat ride in the next few hours. And three drums of titanite isenough to vaporize this tub and everyone aboard her.     The plot is foiled, said Whonk. But what reason did they have?     The Groaci are behind it. I have an idea the SCARS didn't know aboutthis gambit.     Which of these is the leader? asked Whonk. He prodded a fallen Youthwith a horny toe. Arise, dreaming one.     Never mind him, Whonk. We'll tie these two up and leave them here. Iknow where to find the boss.  <doc-sep>A stolid crowd filled the low-ceilinged banquet hall. Retief scannedthe tables for the pale blobs of Terrestrial faces, dwarfed by thegiant armored bodies of the Fustians. Across the room Magnan fluttereda hand. Retief headed toward him. A low-pitched vibration filled theair: the rumble of subsonic Fustian music.     Retief slid into his place beside Magnan. Sorry to be late, Mr.Ambassador.     I'm honored that you chose to appear at all, said Magnan coldly. Heturned back to the Fustian on his left.     Ah, yes, Mr. Minister, he said. Charming, most charming. So joyous.     The Fustian looked at him, beady-eyed. It is the      Lament ofHatching     , he said; our National Dirge.     Oh, said Magnan. How interesting. Such a pleasing balance ofinstruments—     It is a droon solo, said the Fustian, eyeing the TerrestrialAmbassador suspiciously.     Why don't you just admit you can't hear it, Retief whispered loudly.And if I may interrupt a moment—     Magnan cleared his throat. Now that our Mr. Retief has arrived,perhaps we could rush right along to the Sponsorship ceremonies.     This group, said Retief, leaning across Magnan, the SCARS. How muchdo you know about them, Mr. Minister?     Nothing at all, the huge Fustian elder rumbled. For my taste, allYouths should be kept penned with the livestock until they grow acarapace to tame their irresponsibility.     We mustn't lose sight of the importance of channeling youthfulenergies, said Magnan.     Labor gangs, said the minister. In my youth we were indentured tothe dredge-masters. I myself drew a muck sledge.     But in these modern times, put in Magnan, surely it's incumbent onus to make happy these golden hours.     The minister snorted. Last week I had a golden hour. They set upon meand pelted me with overripe stench-fruit.     But this was merely a manifestation of normal youthful frustrations,cried Magnan. Their essential tenderness—     You'd not find a tender spot on that lout yonder, the ministersaid, pointing with a fork at a newly arrived Youth, if you drilledboreholes and blasted.  <doc-sep>Why, that's our guest of honor, said Magnan, a fine young fellow!Slop I believe his name is.     Slock, said Retief. Eight feet of armor-plated orneriness. And—     Magnan rose and tapped on his glass. The Fustians winced at the, tothem, supersonic vibrations. They looked at each other muttering.Magnan tapped louder. The Minister drew in his head, eyes closed. Someof the Fustians rose, tottered for the doors; the noise level rose.Magnan redoubled his efforts. The glass broke with a clatter and greenwine gushed on the tablecloth.     What in the name of the Great Egg! the Minister muttered. He blinked,breathing deeply.     Oh, forgive me, blurted Magnan, dabbing at the wine.     Too bad the glass gave out, said Retief. In another minute you'dhave cleared the hall. And then maybe I could have gotten a word insideways. There's a matter you should know about—     Your attention, please, Magnan said, rising. I see that our fineyoung guest has arrived, and I hope that the remainder of his committeewill be along in a moment. It is my pleasure to announce that our Mr.Retief has had the good fortune to win out in the keen bidding for thepleasure of sponsoring this lovely group.     Retief tugged at Magnan's sleeve. Don't introduce me yet, he said. Iwant to appear suddenly. More dramatic, you know.     Well, murmured Magnan, glancing down at Retief, I'm gratified tosee you entering into the spirit of the event at last. He turned hisattention back to the assembled guests. If our honored guest will joinme on the rostrum...? he said. The gentlemen of the press may want tocatch a few shots of the presentation.     Magnan stepped up on the low platform at the center of the wide room,took his place beside the robed Fustian youth and beamed at the cameras.     How gratifying it is to take this opportunity to express once more thegreat pleasure we have in sponsoring SCARS, he said, talking slowlyfor the benefit of the scribbling reporters. We'd like to think thatin our modest way we're to be a part of all that the SCARS achieveduring the years ahead.     Magnan paused as a huge Fustian elder heaved his bulk up the two lowsteps to the rostrum, approached the guest of honor. He watched as thenewcomer paused behind Slock, who did not see the new arrival.     Retief pushed through the crowd, stepped up to face the Fustian youth.Slock stared at him, drew back.     You know me, Slock, said Retief loudly. An old fellow named Whonktold you about me, just before you tried to saw his head off, remember?It was when I came out to take a look at that battle cruiser you'rebuilding.      IV     With a bellow Slock reached for Retief—and choked off in mid-cry asthe Fustian elder, Whonk, pinioned him from behind, lifting him clearof the floor.     Glad you reporters happened along, said Retief to the gaping newsmen.Slock here had a deal with a sharp operator from the Groaci Embassy.The Groaci were to supply the necessary hardware and Slock, as foremanat the shipyards, was to see that everything was properly installed.The next step, I assume, would have been a local take-over, followedby a little interplanetary war on Flamenco or one of the other nearbyworlds ... for which the Groaci would be glad to supply plenty of ammo.     Magnan found his tongue. Are you mad, Retief? he screeched. Thisgroup was vouched for by the Ministry of Youth!     The Ministry's overdue for a purge, snapped Retief. He turned backto Slock. I wonder if you were in on the little diversion that wasplanned for today. When the      Moss Rock     blew, a variety of clues wereto be planted where they'd be easy to find ... with SCARS written allover them. The Groaci would thus have neatly laid the whole affairsquarely at the door of the Terrestrial Embassy ... whose sponsorshipof the SCARS had received plenty of publicity.     The      Moss Rock     ? said Magnan. But that was—Retief! This is idiotic.Slock himself was scheduled to go on a cruise tomorrow!     Slock roared suddenly, twisting violently. Whonk teetered, his griploosened ... and Slock pulled free and was off the platform, buttinghis way through the milling oldsters on the dining room floor. Magnanwatched, open-mouthed.     The Groaci were playing a double game, as usual, Retief said. Theyintended to dispose of this fellow Slock, once he'd served theirpurpose.     Well, don't stand there, yelped Magnan over the uproar. If Slock isthe ring-leader of a delinquent gang...! He moved to give chase.     Retief grabbed his arm. Don't jump down there! You'd have as muchchance of getting through as a jack-rabbit through a threshing contest.     Ten minutes later the crowd had thinned slightly. We can get throughnow, Whonk called. This way. He lowered himself to the floor, bulledthrough to the exit. Flashbulbs popped. Retief and Magnan followed inWhonk's wake.     In the lounge Retief grabbed the phone, waited for the operator, gave acode letter. No reply. He tried another.     No good, he said after a full minute had passed. Wonder what'sloose? He slammed the phone back in its niche. Let's grab a cab.  <doc-sep>By the time ten years had passed since the landing of the firstterrestrial ship, the Earthmen were conducting a brisk business ingas-fired ranges, furnaces and heaters ... and the Masur stove businesswas gone. Moreover, the Earthmen sold the Zurians their own natural gasat a nice profit and everybody was happy with the situation except thebrothers Masur.     The drastic steps of the brothers applied, therefore, to making anenergetic protest to the governor of Lor.     At one edge of the city, an area had been turned over to the Earthmenfor a spaceport, and the great terrestrial spaceships came to it anddeparted from it at regular intervals. As the heirs of the House ofMasur walked by on their way to see the governor, Zotul observed thatmuch new building was taking place and wondered what it was.     Some new devilment of the Earthmen, you can be sure, said Koltanblackly.     In fact, the Earthmen were building an assembly plant for radioreceiving sets. The ship now standing on its fins upon the apron wasloaded with printed circuits, resistors, variable condensers and otherradio parts. This was Earth's first step toward flooding Zur with thenatural follow-up in its campaign of advertising—radio programs—withcommercials.     Happily for the brothers, they did not understand this at the time orthey would surely have gone back to be buried in their own clay.     I think, the governor told them, that you gentlemen have notpaused to consider the affair from all angles. You must learn to bemodern—keep up with the times! We heads of government on Zur are doingall in our power to aid the Earthmen and facilitate their bringing agreat, new culture that can only benefit us. See how Zur has changed inten short years! Imagine the world of tomorrow! Why, do you know theyare even bringing      autos     to Zur!     The brothers were fascinated with the governor's description of thesehitherto unheard-of vehicles.     It only remains, concluded the governor, to build highways, and theEarthmen are taking care of that.     At any rate, the brothers Masur were still able to console themselvesthat they had their tile business. Tile served well enough for housesand street surfacing; what better material could be devised for the newhighways the governor spoke of? There was a lot of money to be madeyet.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What are the characteristics of the Fustian life cycle and culture, as described in AIDE MEMOIRE?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the significance of Magnan's role in the story AIDE MEMOIRE? [SEP] <s>It was quite a bang, said Retief. But I guess you saw it, too.     No, confound it, Magnan said. When I remonstrated with Hulk, orWhelk—     Whonk.     —the ruffian thrust me into an alley bound in my own cloak. I'll mostcertainly complain to the Minister.     How about the surgical mission?     A most generous offer, said Magnan. Frankly, I was astonished. Ithink perhaps we've judged the Groaci too harshly.     I hear the Ministry of Youth has had a rough morning of it, saidRetief. And a lot of rumors are flying to the effect that Youth Groupsare on the way out.     Magnan cleared his throat, shuffled papers. I—ah—have explained tothe press that last night's—ah—     Fiasco.     —affair was necessary in order to place the culprits in an untenableposition. Of course, as to the destruction of the VIP vessel and thepresumed death of, uh, Slop.     The Fustians understand, said Retief. Whonk wasn't kidding aboutceremonial vengeance.     The Groaci had been guilty of gross misuse of diplomatic privilege,said Magnan. I think that a note—or perhaps an Aide Memoire: lessformal....     The      Moss Rock     was bound for Groaci, said Retief. She was alreadyin her transit orbit when she blew. The major fragments will arrive onschedule in a month or so. It should provide quite a meteorite display.I think that should be all the      aide     the Groaci's      memoires     will needto keep their tentacles off Fust.     But diplomatic usage—     Then, too, the less that's put in writing, the less they can blame youfor, if anything goes wrong.     That's true, said Magnan, lips pursed. Now you're thinkingconstructively, Retief. We may make a diplomat of you yet. He smiledexpansively.     Maybe. But I refuse to let it depress me. Retief stood up. I'mtaking a few weeks off ... if you have no objection, Mr. Ambassador. Mypal Whonk wants to show me an island down south where the fishing isgood.     But there are some extremely important matters coming up, saidMagnan. We're planning to sponsor Senior Citizen Groups—     Count me out. All groups give me an itch.     Why, what an astonishing remark, Retief! After all, we diplomats areourselves a group.     Uh-huh, Retief said.     Magnan sat quietly, mouth open, and watched as Retief stepped into thehall and closed the door gently behind him.   <doc-sep>   AIDE MEMOIRE     BY KEITH LAUMER     The Fustians looked like turtles—but     they could move fast when they chose!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Across the table from Retief, Ambassador Magnan rustled a stiff sheetof parchment and looked grave.     This aide memoire, he said, was just handed to me by the CulturalAttache. It's the third on the subject this week. It refers to thematter of sponsorship of Youth groups—     Some youths, Retief said. Average age, seventy-five.     The Fustians are a long-lived people, Magnan snapped. These mattersare relative. At seventy-five, a male Fustian is at a trying age—     That's right. He'll try anything—in the hope it will maim somebody.     Precisely the problem, Magnan said. But the Youth Movement isthe important news in today's political situation here on Fust. Andsponsorship of Youth groups is a shrewd stroke on the part of theTerrestrial Embassy. At my suggestion, well nigh every member of themission has leaped at the opportunity to score a few p—that is, cementrelations with this emergent power group—the leaders of the future.You, Retief, as Councillor, are the outstanding exception.     I'm not convinced these hoodlums need my help in organizing theirrumbles, Retief said. Now, if you have a proposal for a pest controlgroup—     To the Fustians this is no jesting matter, Magnan cut in. Thisgroup— he glanced at the paper—known as the Sexual, Cultural, andAthletic Recreational Society, or SCARS for short, has been awaitingsponsorship for a matter of weeks now.     Meaning they want someone to buy them a clubhouse, uniforms, equipmentand anything else they need to complete their sexual, cultural andathletic development, Retief said.     If we don't act promptly, Magnan said, the Groaci Embassy may wellanticipate us. They're very active here.     That's an idea, said Retief. Let 'em. After awhile they'll go brokeinstead of us.     Nonsense. The group requires a sponsor. I can't actually order you tostep forward. However.... Magnan let the sentence hang in the air.Retief raised one eyebrow.     For a minute there, he said, I thought you were going to make apositive statement.  <doc-sep>   THE FROZEN PLANET     By Keith Laumer     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      It is rather unusual, Magnan said, to assign an officer of your rankto courier duty, but this is an unusual mission.     Retief sat relaxed and said nothing. Just before the silence grewawkward, Magnan went on.     There are four planets in the group, he said. Two double planets,all rather close to an unimportant star listed as DRI-G 33987. They'recalled Jorgensen's Worlds, and in themselves are of no importancewhatever. However, they lie deep in the sector into which the Soettihave been penetrating.     Now— Magnan leaned forward and lowered his voice—we have learnedthat the Soetti plan a bold step forward. Since they've met noopposition so far in their infiltration of Terrestrial space, theyintend to seize Jorgensen's Worlds by force.     Magnan leaned back, waiting for Retief's reaction. Retief drewcarefully on his cigar and looked at Magnan. Magnan frowned.     This is open aggression, Retief, he said, in case I haven't mademyself clear. Aggression on Terrestrial-occupied territory by an alienspecies. Obviously, we can't allow it.     Magnan drew a large folder from his desk.     A show of resistance at this point is necessary. Unfortunately,Jorgensen's Worlds are technologically undeveloped areas. They'refarmers or traders. Their industry is limited to a minor role intheir economy—enough to support the merchant fleet, no more. The warpotential, by conventional standards, is nil.     Magnan tapped the folder before him.     I have here, he said solemnly, information which will change thatpicture completely. He leaned back and blinked at Retief.  <doc-sep>The Military Attache pulled at his lower lip. In that case, we can'ttry conclusions with these fellows until we have an indetectible driveof our own. I recommend a crash project. In the meantime—     I'll have my boys start in to crack this thing, the Chief of theConfidential Terrestrial Source Section spoke up. I'll fit out acouple of volunteers with plastic beaks—     No cloak and dagger work, gentlemen! Long range policy will beworked out by Deep-Think teams back at the Department. Our role willbe a holding action. Now I want suggestions for a comprehensive,well rounded and decisive course for meeting this threat. Anyrecommendation?     The Political Officer placed his fingertips together. What about astiff Note demanding an extra week's time?     No! No begging, the Economic Officer objected. I'd say a calm,dignified, aggressive withdrawal—as soon as possible.     We don't want to give them the idea we spook easily, the MilitaryAttache said. Let's delay the withdrawal—say, until tomorrow.     Early tomorrow, Magnan said. Or maybe later today.     Well, I see you're of a mind with me, Nitworth nodded. Our plan ofaction is clear, but it remains to be implemented. We have a populationof over fifteen million individuals to relocate. He eyed thePolitical Officer. I want five proposals for resettlement on my deskby oh-eight-hundred hours tomorrow. Nitworth rapped out instructions.Harried-looking staff members arose and hurried from the room. Magnaneased toward the door.     Where are you going, Magnan? Nitworth snapped.     Since you're so busy, I thought I'd just slip back down to Com Inq. Itwas a most interesting orientation lecture, Mr. Ambassador. Be sure tolet us know how it works out.     Kindly return to your chair, Nitworth said coldly. A number ofchores remain to be assigned. I think you, Magnan, need a little fieldexperience. I want you to get over to Roolit I and take a look at theseQornt personally.     Magnan's mouth opened and closed soundlessly.     Not afraid of a few Qornt, are you, Magnan?     Afraid? Good lord, no, ha ha. It's just that I'm afraid I may lose myhead and do something rash if I go.     Nonsense! A diplomat is immune to heroic impulses. Take Retief along.No dawdling, now! I want you on the way in two hours. Notify thetransport pool at once. Now get going!     Magnan nodded unhappily and went into the hall.     Oh, Retief, Nitworth said. Retief turned.     Try to restrain Mr. Magnan from any impulsive moves—in anydirection.      II     Retief and Magnan topped a ridge and looked down across a slopeof towering tree-shrubs and glossy violet-stemmed palms set amongflamboyant blossoms of yellow and red, reaching down to a strip ofwhite beach with the blue sea beyond.     A delightful vista, Magnan said, mopping at his face. A pity wecouldn't locate the Qornt. We'll go back now and report—     I'm pretty sure the settlement is off to the right, Retief said. Whydon't you head back for the boat, while I ease over and see what I canobserve.     Retief, we're engaged in a serious mission. This is not a time tothink of sightseeing.     I'd like to take a good look at what we're giving away.     See here, Retief! One might almost receive the impression that you'requestioning Corps policy!     One might, at that. The Qornt have made their play, but I think itmight be valuable to take a look at their cards before we fold. If I'mnot back at the boat in an hour, lift without me.     You expect me to make my way back alone?     It's directly down-slope— Retief broke off, listening. Magnanclutched at his arm.     There was a sound of crackling foliage. Twenty feet ahead, a leafybranch swung aside. An eight-foot biped stepped into view, long, thin,green-clad legs with back-bending knees moving in quick, bird-likesteps. A pair of immense black-lensed goggles covered staring eyes setamong bushy green hair above a great bone-white beak. The crest bobbedas the creature cocked its head, listening.     Magnan gulped audibly. The Qornt froze, head tilted, beak aimeddirectly at the spot where the Terrestrials stood in the deep shade ofa giant trunk.     I'll go for help, Magnan squeaked. He whirled and took three leapsinto the brush.     A second great green-clad figure rose up to block his way. He spun,darted to the left. The first Qornt pounced, grappled Magnan to itsnarrow chest. Magnan yelled, threshing and kicking, broke free,turned—and collided with the eight-foot alien, coming in fast from theright. All three went down in a tangle of limbs.     Retief jumped forward, hauled Magnan free, thrust him aside andstopped, right fist cocked. The two Qornt lay groaning feebly.     Nice piece of work, Mr. Magnan, Retief said. You nailed both ofthem.  <doc-sep>I've got it, said Dimanche as Cassal gloomily counted out the sum thefirst counselor had named.     Got what? asked Cassal. He rolled the currency into a neat bundle,attached his name, and dropped it into the chute.     The woman, Murra Foray, the first counselor. She's a Huntner.     What's a Huntner?     A sub-race of men on the other side of the Galaxy. She was vocalizingabout her home planet when I managed to locate her.     Any other information?     None. Electronic guards were sliding into place as soon as I reachedher. I got out as fast as I could.     I see. The significance of that, if any, escaped him. Nevertheless,it sounded depressing.     What I want to know is, said Dimanche, why such precautions aselectronic guards? What does Travelers Aid have that's so secret?     Cassal grunted and didn't answer. Dimanche could be annoyinglyinquisitive at times.     Cassal had entered one side of a block-square building. He came out onthe other side. The agency was larger than he had thought. The old manwas staring at a door as Cassal came out. He had apparently changedevery sign in the building. His work finished, the technician wasremoving the visual projector from his head as Cassal came up to him.He turned and peered.     You stuck here, too? he asked in the uneven voice of the aged.     Stuck? repeated Cassal. I suppose you can call it that. I'm waitingfor my ship. He frowned. He was the one who wanted to ask questions.Why all the redecoration? I thought Travelers Aid was an old agency.Why did you change so many signs? I could understand it if the agencywere new.     The old man chuckled. Re-organization. The previous first counselorresigned suddenly, in the middle of the night, they say. The new onedidn't like the name of the agency, so she ordered it changed.     She would do just that, thought Cassal. What about this Murra Foray?     The old man winked mysteriously. He opened his mouth and then seemedovercome with senile fright. Hurriedly he shuffled away.     Cassal gazed after him, baffled. The old man was afraid for his job,afraid of the first counselor. Why he should be, Cassal didn't know. Heshrugged and went on. The agency was now in motion in his behalf, buthe didn't intend to depend on that alone.  <doc-sep>As I see it, Retief said, dribbling cigar ashes into an empty wineglass, you Qornt like to be warriors, but you don't particularly liketo fight.     We don't mind a little fighting—within reason. And, of course, asQornt, we're expected to die in battle. But what I say is, why rushthings?     I have a suggestion, Magnan said. Why not turn the reins ofgovernment over to the Verpp? They seem a level-headed group.     What good would that do? Qornt are Qornt. It seems there's always oneamong us who's a slave to instinct—and, naturally, we have to followhim.     Why?     Because that's the way it's done.     Why not do it another way? Magnan offered. Now, I'd like to suggestcommunity singing—     If we gave up fighting, we might live too long. Then what wouldhappen?     Live too long? Magnan looked puzzled.     When estivating time comes there'd be no burrows for us. Anyway, withthe new Qornt stepping on our heels—     I've lost the thread, Magnan said. Who are the new Qornt?     After estivating, the Verpp moult, and then they're Qornt, of course.The Gwil become Boog, the Boog become Rheuk, the Rheuk metamorphosizeinto Verpp—     You mean Slun and Zubb—the mild-natured naturalists—will becomewarmongers like Qorn?     Very likely. 'The milder the Verpp, the wilder the Qorn,' as the oldsaying goes.     What do Qornt turn into? Retief asked.     Hmmmm. That's a good question. So far, none have survived Qornthood.     Have you thought of forsaking your warlike ways? Magnan asked. Whatabout taking up sheepherding and regular church attendance?     Don't mistake me. We Qornt like a military life. It's great sport tosit around roaring fires and drink and tell lies and then go dashingoff to enjoy a brisk affray and some leisurely looting afterward. Butwe prefer a nice numerical advantage. Not this business of tackling youTerrestrials over on Guzzum—that was a mad notion. We had no idea whatyour strength was.     But now that's all off, of course, Magnan chirped. Now that we'vehad diplomatic relations and all—     Oh, by no means. The fleet lifts in thirty days. After all, we'reQornt; we have to satisfy our drive to action.     But Mr. Retief is your leader now. He won't let you!     Only a dead Qornt stays home when Attack day comes. And even ifhe orders us all to cut our own throats, there are still the otherCenters—all with their own leaders. No, gentlemen, the Invasion isdefinitely on.     Why don't you go invade somebody else? Magnan suggested. I couldname some very attractive prospects—outside my sector, of course.     Hold everything, Retief said. I think we've got the basis of a dealhere....      V     At the head of a double column of gaudily caparisoned Qornt, Retiefand Magnan strolled across the ramp toward the bright tower of the CDTSector HQ. Ahead, gates opened, and a black Corps limousine emerged,flying an Ambassadorial flag under a plain square of white.     Curious, Magnan commented. I wonder what the significance of thewhite ensign might be?     Retief raised a hand. The column halted with a clash of accoutrementsand a rasp of Qornt boots. Retief looked back along the line. The highwhite sun flashed on bright silks, polished buckles, deep-dyed plumes,butts of pistols, the soft gleam of leather.     A brave show indeed, Magnan commented approvingly. I confess theidea has merit.     The limousine pulled up with a squeal of brakes, stood on two fat-tiredwheels, gyros humming softly. The hatch popped up. A portly diplomatstepped out.     Why, Ambassador Nitworth, Magnan glowed. This is very kind of you.     Keep cool, Magnan, Nitworth said in a strained voice. We'll attemptto get you out of this.     He stepped past Magnan's out-stretched hand and looked hesitantly atthe ramrod-straight line of Qornt, eighty-five strong—and beyond, atthe eighty-five tall Qornt dreadnaughts.     Good afternoon, sir ... ah, Your Excellency, Nitworth said, blinkingup at the leading Qornt. You are Commander of the Strike Force, Iassume?     Nope, the Qornt said shortly.     I ... ah ... wish to request seventy-two hours in which to evacuateHeadquarters, Nitworth plowed on.     Mr. Ambassador. Retief said. This—     Don't panic, Retief. I'll attempt to secure your release, Nitworthhissed over his shoulder. Now—     You will address our leader with more respect! the tall Qornt hooted,eyeing Nitworth ominously from eleven feet up.     Oh, yes indeed, sir ... your Excellency ... Commander. Now, about theinvasion—     Mr. Secretary, Magnan tugged at Nitworth's sleeve.     In heaven's name, permit me to negotiate in peace! Nitworth snapped.He rearranged his features. Now your Excellency, we've arranged toevacuate Smorbrod, of course, just as you requested—     Requested? the Qornt honked.     Ah ... demanded, that is. Quite rightly of course. Ordered.Instructed. And, of course, we'll be only too pleased to follow anyother instructions you might have.     You don't quite get the big picture, Mr. Secretary, Retief said.This isn't—     Silence, confound you! Nitworth barked. The leading Qornt looked atRetief. He nodded. Two bony hands shot out, seized Nitworth and stuffeda length of bright pink silk into his mouth, then spun him around andheld him facing Retief.     If you don't mind my taking this opportunity to brief you, Mr.Ambassador, Retief said blandly. I think I should mention that thisisn't an invasion fleet. These are the new recruits for the PeaceEnforcement Corps.     Magnan stepped forward, glanced at the gag in Ambassador Nitworth'smouth, hesitated, then cleared his throat. We felt, he said, thatthe establishment of a Foreign Brigade within the P. E. Corps structurewould provide the element of novelty the Department has requestedin our recruiting, and at the same time would remove the stigma ofTerrestrial chauvinism from future punitive operations.     Nitworth stared, eyes bulging. He grunted, reaching for the gag, caughtthe Qornt's eye on him, dropped his hands to his sides.     I suggest we get the troops in out of the hot sun, Retief said.Magnan edged close. What about the gag? he whispered.     Let's leave it where it is for a while, Retief murmured. It may saveus a few concessions.  <doc-sep>Magnan hovered at Retief's side. Twelve feet tall, he moaned. Anddid you notice the size of those hands?     Retief watched as Qorn's aides helped him out of his formal trappings.I wouldn't worry too much, Mr. Magnan. This is a light-Gee world. Idoubt if old Qorn would weigh up at more than two-fifty standard poundshere.     But that phenomenal reach—     I'll peck away at him at knee level. When he bends over to swat me,I'll get a crack at him.     Across the cleared floor, Qorn shook off his helpers with a snort.     Enough! Let me at the upstart!     Retief moved out to meet him, watching the upraised backward-jointedarms. Qorn stalked forward, long lean legs bent, long horny feetclacking against the polished floor. The other aliens—both servitorsand bejeweled Qornt—formed a wide circle, all eyes unwaveringly on thecombatants.     Qorn struck suddenly, a long arm flashing down in a vicious cut atRetief, who leaned aside, caught one lean shank below the knee. Qornbent to haul Retief from his leg—and staggered back as a haymaker tookhim just below the beak. A screech went up from the crowd as Retiefleaped clear.     Qorn hissed and charged. Retief whirled aside, then struck the alien'soff-leg in a flying tackle. Qorn leaned, arms windmilling, crashed tothe floor. Retief whirled, dived for the left arm, whipped it behindthe narrow back, seized Qorn's neck in a stranglehold and threw hisweight backward. Qorn fell on his back, his legs squatted out at anawkward angle. He squawked and beat his free arm on the floor, reachingin vain for Retief.     Zubb stepped forward, pistols ready. Magnan stepped before him.     Need I remind you, sir, he said icily, that this is an officialdiplomatic function? I can brook no interference from disinterestedparties.     Zubb hesitated. Magnan held out a hand. I must ask you to hand me yourweapons, Zubb.     Look here, Zubb began.     I      may     lose my temper, Magnan hinted. Zubb lowered the guns, passedthem to Magnan. He thrust them into his belt with a sour smile, turnedback to watch the encounter.     Retief had thrown a turn of violet silk around Qorn's left wrist, boundit to the alien's neck. Another wisp of stuff floated from Qorn'sshoulder. Retief, still holding Qorn in an awkward sprawl, wrappedit around one outflung leg, trussed ankle and thigh together. Qornflopped, hooting. At each movement, the constricting loop around hisneck, jerked his head back, the green crest tossing wildly.     If I were you, I'd relax, Retief said, rising and releasing his grip.Qorn got a leg under him; Retief kicked it. Qorn's chin hit the floorwith a hollow clack. He wilted, an ungainly tangle of over-long limbsand gay silks.     Retief turned to the watching crowd. Next? he called.     The blue and flame Qornt stepped forward. Maybe this would be a goodtime to elect a new leader, he said. Now, my qualifications—     Sit down, Retief said loudly. He stepped to the head of the table,seated himself in Qorn's vacated chair. A couple of you finishtrussing Qorn up for me.     But we must select a leader!     That won't be necessary, boys. I'm your new leader.  <doc-sep>Outside in the corridor, Magnan came up to Retief, who stood talking toa tall man in a pilot's coverall.     I'll be tied up, sending through full details on my—our—yourrecruiting theme, Retief, Magnan said. Suppose you run into the cityto assist the new Verpp Consul in settling in.     I'll do that, Mr. Magnan. Anything else?     Magnan raised his eyebrows. You're remarkably compliant today, Retief.I'll arrange transportation.     Don't bother, Mr. Magnan. Cy here will run me over. He was the pilotwho ferried us over to Roolit I, you recall.     I'll be with you as soon as I pack a few phone numbers, Retief, thepilot said. He moved off. Magnan followed him with a disapproving eye.An uncouth sort, I fancied. I trust you're not consorting with hiskind socially.     I wouldn't say that, exactly, Retief said. We just want to go over afew figures together.   <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the significance of Magnan's role in the story AIDE MEMOIRE?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the significance of Whonk in the story AIDE MEMOIRE? [SEP] <s>It was quite a bang, said Retief. But I guess you saw it, too.     No, confound it, Magnan said. When I remonstrated with Hulk, orWhelk—     Whonk.     —the ruffian thrust me into an alley bound in my own cloak. I'll mostcertainly complain to the Minister.     How about the surgical mission?     A most generous offer, said Magnan. Frankly, I was astonished. Ithink perhaps we've judged the Groaci too harshly.     I hear the Ministry of Youth has had a rough morning of it, saidRetief. And a lot of rumors are flying to the effect that Youth Groupsare on the way out.     Magnan cleared his throat, shuffled papers. I—ah—have explained tothe press that last night's—ah—     Fiasco.     —affair was necessary in order to place the culprits in an untenableposition. Of course, as to the destruction of the VIP vessel and thepresumed death of, uh, Slop.     The Fustians understand, said Retief. Whonk wasn't kidding aboutceremonial vengeance.     The Groaci had been guilty of gross misuse of diplomatic privilege,said Magnan. I think that a note—or perhaps an Aide Memoire: lessformal....     The      Moss Rock     was bound for Groaci, said Retief. She was alreadyin her transit orbit when she blew. The major fragments will arrive onschedule in a month or so. It should provide quite a meteorite display.I think that should be all the      aide     the Groaci's      memoires     will needto keep their tentacles off Fust.     But diplomatic usage—     Then, too, the less that's put in writing, the less they can blame youfor, if anything goes wrong.     That's true, said Magnan, lips pursed. Now you're thinkingconstructively, Retief. We may make a diplomat of you yet. He smiledexpansively.     Maybe. But I refuse to let it depress me. Retief stood up. I'mtaking a few weeks off ... if you have no objection, Mr. Ambassador. Mypal Whonk wants to show me an island down south where the fishing isgood.     But there are some extremely important matters coming up, saidMagnan. We're planning to sponsor Senior Citizen Groups—     Count me out. All groups give me an itch.     Why, what an astonishing remark, Retief! After all, we diplomats areourselves a group.     Uh-huh, Retief said.     Magnan sat quietly, mouth open, and watched as Retief stepped into thehall and closed the door gently behind him.   <doc-sep>   AIDE MEMOIRE     BY KEITH LAUMER     The Fustians looked like turtles—but     they could move fast when they chose!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Across the table from Retief, Ambassador Magnan rustled a stiff sheetof parchment and looked grave.     This aide memoire, he said, was just handed to me by the CulturalAttache. It's the third on the subject this week. It refers to thematter of sponsorship of Youth groups—     Some youths, Retief said. Average age, seventy-five.     The Fustians are a long-lived people, Magnan snapped. These mattersare relative. At seventy-five, a male Fustian is at a trying age—     That's right. He'll try anything—in the hope it will maim somebody.     Precisely the problem, Magnan said. But the Youth Movement isthe important news in today's political situation here on Fust. Andsponsorship of Youth groups is a shrewd stroke on the part of theTerrestrial Embassy. At my suggestion, well nigh every member of themission has leaped at the opportunity to score a few p—that is, cementrelations with this emergent power group—the leaders of the future.You, Retief, as Councillor, are the outstanding exception.     I'm not convinced these hoodlums need my help in organizing theirrumbles, Retief said. Now, if you have a proposal for a pest controlgroup—     To the Fustians this is no jesting matter, Magnan cut in. Thisgroup— he glanced at the paper—known as the Sexual, Cultural, andAthletic Recreational Society, or SCARS for short, has been awaitingsponsorship for a matter of weeks now.     Meaning they want someone to buy them a clubhouse, uniforms, equipmentand anything else they need to complete their sexual, cultural andathletic development, Retief said.     If we don't act promptly, Magnan said, the Groaci Embassy may wellanticipate us. They're very active here.     That's an idea, said Retief. Let 'em. After awhile they'll go brokeinstead of us.     Nonsense. The group requires a sponsor. I can't actually order you tostep forward. However.... Magnan let the sentence hang in the air.Retief raised one eyebrow.     For a minute there, he said, I thought you were going to make apositive statement.  <doc-sep>Retief whistled. So the Youths aren't all as young as they look.Somebody's been holding out on the rest of you Fustians!     The Soft One, Whonk said. You laid him by the heels, Retief. I saw.Produce him now.     Hold on a minute, Whonk. It won't do you any good—     Whonk winked broadly. I must take my revenge! he roared. I shalltest the texture of the Soft One! His pulped remains will be scoured upby the ramp-washers and mailed home in bottles!     Retief whirled at a sound, caught up with the scuttling Yith fifty feetaway, hauled him back to Whonk.     It's up to you, Whonk, he said. I know how important ceremonialrevenge is to you Fustians. I will not interfere.     Mercy! Yith hissed, eye-stalks whipping in distress. I claimdiplomatic immunity!     No diplomat am I, rumbled Whonk. Let me see; suppose I start withone of those obscenely active eyes— He reached....     I have an idea, said Retief brightly. Do you suppose—just thisonce—you could forego the ceremonial revenge if Yith promised toarrange for a Groaci Surgical Mission to de-carapace you elders?     But, Whonk protested, those eyes! What a pleasure to pluck them, oneby one!     Yess, hissed Yith, I swear it! Our most expert surgeons ... platoonsof them, with the finest of equipment.     I have dreamed of how it would be to sit on this one, to feel himsquash beneath my bulk....     Light as a whissle feather shall you dance, Yith whispered.Shell-less shall you spring in the joy of renewed youth—     Maybe just one eye, said Whonk grudgingly. That would leave himfour.     Be a sport, said Retief.     Well.     It's a deal then, said Retief. Yith, on your word as a diplomat,an alien, a soft-back and a skunk, you'll set up the mission. Groacisurgical skill is an export that will net you more than armaments.It will be a whissle feather in your cap—if you bring it off. Andin return, Whonk won't sit on you. And I won't prefer charges ofinterference in the internal affairs of a free world.     Behind Whonk there was a movement. Slock, wriggling free of theborrowed carapace, struggled to his feet ... in time for Whonk to seizehim, lift him high and head for the entry to the      Moss Rock     .     Hey, Retief called. Where are you going?     I would not deny this one his reward, called Whonk. He hoped tocruise in luxury. So be it.     Hold on, said Retief. That tub is loaded with titanite!     Stand not in my way, Retief. For this one in truth owes me avengeance.     Retief watched as the immense Fustian bore his giant burden up the rampand disappeared within the ship.     I guess Whonk means business, he said to Yith, who hung in his grasp,all five eyes goggling. And he's a little too big for me to stop.     Whonk reappeared, alone, climbed down.     What did you do with him? said Retief. Tell him you were going to—     We had best withdraw, said Whonk. The killing radius of the drive isfifty yards.     You mean—     The controls are set for Groaci. Long-may-he-sleep.  <doc-sep>The door, hinges torn loose, had been propped loosely back in position.Retief looked around at the battered interior of the shed. The oldfellow had put up a struggle.     There were deep drag-marks in the dust behind the building. Retieffollowed them across the yard. They disappeared under the steel door ofa warehouse.     Retief glanced around. Now, at the mid-hour of the fourth cycle, theworkmen were heaped along the edge of the refreshment pond, deep intheir siesta. He took a multi-bladed tool from a pocket, tried variousfittings in the lock. It snicked open.     He eased the door aside far enough to enter.     Heaped bales loomed before him. Snapping on the tiny lamp in the handleof the combination tool, Retief looked over the pile. One stack seemedout of alignment ... and the dust had been scraped from the floorbefore it. He pocketed the light, climbed up on the bales, looked overinto a nest made by stacking the bundles around a clear spot. The agedFustian lay in it, on his back, a heavy sack tied over his head.     Retief dropped down inside the ring of bales, sawed at the tough twineand pulled the sack free.     It's me, old fellow, Retief said. The nosy stranger. Sorry I got youinto this.     The oldster threshed his gnarled legs. He rocked slightly and fellback. A curse on the cradle that rocked their infant slumbers, herumbled. But place me back on my feet and I hunt down the youth,Slock, though he flee to the bottommost muck of the Sea of Torments.     How am I going to get you out of here? Maybe I'd better get some help.     Nay. The perfidious Youths abound here, said the old Fustian. Itwould be your life.     I doubt if they'd go that far.     Would they not? The Fustian stretched his neck. Cast your lighthere. But for the toughness of my hide....     Retief put the beam of the light on the leathery neck. A great smear ofthick purplish blood welled from a ragged cut. The oldster chuckled, asound like a seal coughing.     Traitor, they called me. For long they sawed at me—in vain. Thenthey trussed me and dumped me here. They think to return with weaponsto complete the task.     Weapons? I thought it was illegal!     Their evil genius, the Soft One, said the Fustian. He would providefuel to the Devil himself.     The Groaci again, said Retief. I wonder what their angle is.     And I must confess, I told them of you, ere I knew their fullintentions. Much can I tell you of their doings. But first, I pray, theblock and tackle.     Retief found the hoist where the Fustian directed him, maneuvered itinto position, hooked onto the edge of the carapace and hauled away.The immense Fustian rose slowly, teetered ... then flopped on his chest.     Slowly he got to his feet.     My name is Whonk, fleet one, he said. My cows are yours.     Thanks. I'm Retief. I'd like to meet the girls some time. But rightnow, let's get out of here.     Whonk leaned his bulk against the ponderous stacks of baled kelp,bulldozed them aside. Slow am I to anger, he said, but implacable inmy wrath. Slock, beware!     Hold it, said Retief suddenly. He sniffed. What's that odor? Heflashed the light around, played it over a dry stain on the floor. Heknelt, sniffed at the spot.     What kind of cargo was stacked here, Whonk? And where is it now?     Whonk considered. There were drums, he said. Four of them, quitesmall, painted an evil green, the property of the Soft Ones, theGroaci. They lay here a day and a night. At full dark of the firstperiod they came with stevedores and loaded them aboard the barge      MossRock     .     The VIP boat. Who's scheduled to use it?     I know not. But what matters this? Let us discuss cargo movementsafter I have settled a score with certain Youths.     We'd better follow this up first, Whonk. There's only one substance Iknow of that's transported in drums and smells like that blot on thefloor. That's titanite: the hottest explosive this side of a uraniumpile.      III     Beta was setting as Retief, Whonk puffing at his heels, came up to thesentry box beside the gangway leading to the plush interior of theofficial luxury space barge      Moss Rock     .     A sign of the times, said Whonk, glancing inside the empty shelter.A guard should stand here, but I see him not. Doubtless he crept awayto sleep.     Let's go aboard and take a look around.     They entered the ship. Soft lights glowed in utter silence. A rough boxstood on the floor, rollers and pry-bars beside it—a discordant notein the muted luxury of the setting. Whonk rummaged in it.     Curious, he said. What means this? He held up a stained cloak oforange and green, a metal bracelet, papers.     Orange and green, mused Relief. Whose colors are those?     I know not. Whonk glanced at the arm-band. But this is lettered. Hepassed the metal band to Retief.     SCARS, Retief read. He looked at Whonk. It seems to me I've heardthe name before, he murmured. Let's get back to the Embassy—fast.     Back on the ramp Retief heard a sound ... and turned in time to duckthe charge of a hulking Fustian youth who thundered past him andfetched up against the broad chest of Whonk, who locked him in a warmembrace.     Nice catch, Whonk. Where'd he sneak out of?     The lout hid there by the storage bin, rumbled Whonk. The captiveyouth thumped fists and toes fruitlessly against the oldster's carapace.     Hang onto him, said Retief. He looks like the biting kind.     No fear. Clumsy I am, yet not without strength.     Ask him where the titanite is tucked away.     Speak, witless grub, growled Whonk, lest I tweak you in twain.     The youth gurgled.     Better let up before you make a mess of him, said Retief. Whonklifted the Youth clear of the floor, then flung him down with a thumpthat made the ground quiver. The younger Fustian glared up at theelder, mouth snapping.     This one was among those who trussed me and hid me away for thekilling, said Whonk. In his repentance he will tell all to his elder.     That's the same young squirt that tried to strike up an acquaintancewith me on the bus, Retief said. He gets around.     The youth scrambled to hands and knees, scuttled for freedom. Retiefplanted a foot on his dragging cloak; it ripped free. He stared at thebare back of the Fustian—     By the Great Egg! Whonk exclaimed, tripping the refugee as he triedto rise. This is no Youth! His carapace has been taken from him!     Retief looked at the scarred back. I thought he looked a little old.But I thought—     This is not possible, Whonk said wonderingly. The great nerve trunksare deeply involved. Not even the cleverest surgeon could excise thecarapace and leave the patient living.     It looks like somebody did the trick. But let's take this boy with usand get out of here. His folks may come home.     Too late, said Whonk. Retief turned.     Three youths came from behind the sheds.     Well, Retief said. It looks like the SCARS are out in force tonight.Where's your pal? he said to the advancing trio. The sticky littlebird with the eye-stalks? Back at his Embassy, leaving you suckersholding the bag, I'll bet.     Shelter behind me, Retief, said Whonk.     Go get 'em, old-timer. Retief stooped, picked up one of the pry-bars.I'll jump around and distract them.     Whonk let out a whistling roar and charged for the immature Fustians.They fanned out ... and one tripped, sprawled on his face. Retiefwhirled the metal bar he had thrust between the Fustian's legs, slammedit against the skull of another, who shook his head, turned onRetief ... and bounced off the steel hull of the      Moss Rock     as Whonktook him in full charge.     Retief used the bar on another head. His third blow laid the Fustianon the pavement, oozing purple. The other two club members departedhastily, seriously dented but still mobile.     Retief leaned on his club, breathing hard. Tough heads these kidshave got. I'm tempted to chase those two lads down, but I've gotanother errand to run. I don't know who the Groaci intended to blast,but I have a sneaking suspicion somebody of importance was scheduledfor a boat ride in the next few hours. And three drums of titanite isenough to vaporize this tub and everyone aboard her.     The plot is foiled, said Whonk. But what reason did they have?     The Groaci are behind it. I have an idea the SCARS didn't know aboutthis gambit.     Which of these is the leader? asked Whonk. He prodded a fallen Youthwith a horny toe. Arise, dreaming one.     Never mind him, Whonk. We'll tie these two up and leave them here. Iknow where to find the boss.  <doc-sep>I've got it, said Dimanche as Cassal gloomily counted out the sum thefirst counselor had named.     Got what? asked Cassal. He rolled the currency into a neat bundle,attached his name, and dropped it into the chute.     The woman, Murra Foray, the first counselor. She's a Huntner.     What's a Huntner?     A sub-race of men on the other side of the Galaxy. She was vocalizingabout her home planet when I managed to locate her.     Any other information?     None. Electronic guards were sliding into place as soon as I reachedher. I got out as fast as I could.     I see. The significance of that, if any, escaped him. Nevertheless,it sounded depressing.     What I want to know is, said Dimanche, why such precautions aselectronic guards? What does Travelers Aid have that's so secret?     Cassal grunted and didn't answer. Dimanche could be annoyinglyinquisitive at times.     Cassal had entered one side of a block-square building. He came out onthe other side. The agency was larger than he had thought. The old manwas staring at a door as Cassal came out. He had apparently changedevery sign in the building. His work finished, the technician wasremoving the visual projector from his head as Cassal came up to him.He turned and peered.     You stuck here, too? he asked in the uneven voice of the aged.     Stuck? repeated Cassal. I suppose you can call it that. I'm waitingfor my ship. He frowned. He was the one who wanted to ask questions.Why all the redecoration? I thought Travelers Aid was an old agency.Why did you change so many signs? I could understand it if the agencywere new.     The old man chuckled. Re-organization. The previous first counselorresigned suddenly, in the middle of the night, they say. The new onedidn't like the name of the agency, so she ordered it changed.     She would do just that, thought Cassal. What about this Murra Foray?     The old man winked mysteriously. He opened his mouth and then seemedovercome with senile fright. Hurriedly he shuffled away.     Cassal gazed after him, baffled. The old man was afraid for his job,afraid of the first counselor. Why he should be, Cassal didn't know. Heshrugged and went on. The agency was now in motion in his behalf, buthe didn't intend to depend on that alone.  <doc-sep>In the street the blue sun, Alpha, peered like an arc light under a lowcloud layer, casting flat shadows across the mud of the avenue. Thethree mounted a passing flat-car. Whonk squatted, resting the weight ofhis immense shell on the heavy plank flooring.     Would that I too could lose this burden, as has the false youth webludgeoned aboard the      Moss Rock     , he sighed. Soon will I be forcedinto retirement. Then a mere keeper of a place of papers such as Iwill rate no more than a slab on the public strand, with once-dailyfeedings. And even for a man of high position, retirement is nopleasure. A slab in the Park of Monuments is little better. A dismaloutlook for one's next thousand years!     You two carry on to the police station, said Retief. I want to playa hunch. But don't take too long. I may be painfully right.     What—? Magnan started.     As you wish, Retief, said Whonk.     The flat-car trundled past the gate to the shipyard and Retief jumpeddown, headed at a run for the VIP boat. The guard post still stoodvacant. The two Youths whom he and Whonk had left trussed were gone.     That's the trouble with a peaceful world, Retief muttered. No policeprotection. He stepped down from the lighted entry and took up aposition behind the sentry box. Alpha rose higher, shedding a glaringblue-white light without heat. Retief shivered. Maybe he'd guessedwrong....     There was a sound in the near distance, like two elephants colliding.     Retief looked toward the gate. His giant acquaintance, Whonk, hadreappeared and was grappling with a hardly less massive opponent. Asmall figure became visible in the melee, scuttled for the gate. Headedoff by the battling titans, he turned and made for the opposite sideof the shipyard. Retief waited, jumped out and gathered in the fleeingGroaci.     Well, Yith, he said, how's tricks? You should pardon the expression.     Release me, Retief! the pale-featured alien lisped, his throatbladder pulsating in agitation. The behemoths vie for the privilege ofdismembering me out of hand!     I know how they feel. I'll see what I can do ... for a price.     I appeal to you, Yith whispered hoarsely. As a fellow diplomat, afellow alien, a fellow soft-back—     Why don't you appeal to Slock, as a fellow skunk? said Retief. Nowkeep quiet ... and you may get out of this alive.     The heavier of the two struggling Fustians threw the other to theground. There was another brief flurry, and then the smaller figure wason its back, helpless.     That's Whonk, still on his feet, said Retief. I wonder who he'scaught—and why.     Whonk came toward the      Moss Rock     dragging the supine Fustian, whokicked vainly. Retief thrust Yith down well out of sight behind thesentry box. Better sit tight, Yith. Don't try to sneak off; I canoutrun you. Stay here and I'll see what I can do. He stepped out andhailed Whonk.     Puffing like a steam engine Whonk pulled up before him. Sleep,Retief! He panted. You followed a hunch; I did the same. I sawsomething strange in this one when we passed him on the avenue. Iwatched, followed him here. Look! It is Slock, strapped into a deadcarapace! Now many things become clear.  <doc-sep>Why, that's our guest of honor, said Magnan, a fine young fellow!Slop I believe his name is.     Slock, said Retief. Eight feet of armor-plated orneriness. And—     Magnan rose and tapped on his glass. The Fustians winced at the, tothem, supersonic vibrations. They looked at each other muttering.Magnan tapped louder. The Minister drew in his head, eyes closed. Someof the Fustians rose, tottered for the doors; the noise level rose.Magnan redoubled his efforts. The glass broke with a clatter and greenwine gushed on the tablecloth.     What in the name of the Great Egg! the Minister muttered. He blinked,breathing deeply.     Oh, forgive me, blurted Magnan, dabbing at the wine.     Too bad the glass gave out, said Retief. In another minute you'dhave cleared the hall. And then maybe I could have gotten a word insideways. There's a matter you should know about—     Your attention, please, Magnan said, rising. I see that our fineyoung guest has arrived, and I hope that the remainder of his committeewill be along in a moment. It is my pleasure to announce that our Mr.Retief has had the good fortune to win out in the keen bidding for thepleasure of sponsoring this lovely group.     Retief tugged at Magnan's sleeve. Don't introduce me yet, he said. Iwant to appear suddenly. More dramatic, you know.     Well, murmured Magnan, glancing down at Retief, I'm gratified tosee you entering into the spirit of the event at last. He turned hisattention back to the assembled guests. If our honored guest will joinme on the rostrum...? he said. The gentlemen of the press may want tocatch a few shots of the presentation.     Magnan stepped up on the low platform at the center of the wide room,took his place beside the robed Fustian youth and beamed at the cameras.     How gratifying it is to take this opportunity to express once more thegreat pleasure we have in sponsoring SCARS, he said, talking slowlyfor the benefit of the scribbling reporters. We'd like to think thatin our modest way we're to be a part of all that the SCARS achieveduring the years ahead.     Magnan paused as a huge Fustian elder heaved his bulk up the two lowsteps to the rostrum, approached the guest of honor. He watched as thenewcomer paused behind Slock, who did not see the new arrival.     Retief pushed through the crowd, stepped up to face the Fustian youth.Slock stared at him, drew back.     You know me, Slock, said Retief loudly. An old fellow named Whonktold you about me, just before you tried to saw his head off, remember?It was when I came out to take a look at that battle cruiser you'rebuilding.      IV     With a bellow Slock reached for Retief—and choked off in mid-cry asthe Fustian elder, Whonk, pinioned him from behind, lifting him clearof the floor.     Glad you reporters happened along, said Retief to the gaping newsmen.Slock here had a deal with a sharp operator from the Groaci Embassy.The Groaci were to supply the necessary hardware and Slock, as foremanat the shipyards, was to see that everything was properly installed.The next step, I assume, would have been a local take-over, followedby a little interplanetary war on Flamenco or one of the other nearbyworlds ... for which the Groaci would be glad to supply plenty of ammo.     Magnan found his tongue. Are you mad, Retief? he screeched. Thisgroup was vouched for by the Ministry of Youth!     The Ministry's overdue for a purge, snapped Retief. He turned backto Slock. I wonder if you were in on the little diversion that wasplanned for today. When the      Moss Rock     blew, a variety of clues wereto be planted where they'd be easy to find ... with SCARS written allover them. The Groaci would thus have neatly laid the whole affairsquarely at the door of the Terrestrial Embassy ... whose sponsorshipof the SCARS had received plenty of publicity.     The      Moss Rock     ? said Magnan. But that was—Retief! This is idiotic.Slock himself was scheduled to go on a cruise tomorrow!     Slock roared suddenly, twisting violently. Whonk teetered, his griploosened ... and Slock pulled free and was off the platform, buttinghis way through the milling oldsters on the dining room floor. Magnanwatched, open-mouthed.     The Groaci were playing a double game, as usual, Retief said. Theyintended to dispose of this fellow Slock, once he'd served theirpurpose.     Well, don't stand there, yelped Magnan over the uproar. If Slock isthe ring-leader of a delinquent gang...! He moved to give chase.     Retief grabbed his arm. Don't jump down there! You'd have as muchchance of getting through as a jack-rabbit through a threshing contest.     Ten minutes later the crowd had thinned slightly. We can get throughnow, Whonk called. This way. He lowered himself to the floor, bulledthrough to the exit. Flashbulbs popped. Retief and Magnan followed inWhonk's wake.     In the lounge Retief grabbed the phone, waited for the operator, gave acode letter. No reply. He tried another.     No good, he said after a full minute had passed. Wonder what'sloose? He slammed the phone back in its niche. Let's grab a cab.  <doc-sep>The old man stared at the door, an obsolete visual projector wobblingprecariously on his head. He closed his eyes and the lettering on thedoor disappeared. Cassal was too far away to see what it had been. Thetechnician opened his eyes and concentrated. Slowly a new sign formedon the door.     TRAVELERS AID BUREAU     Murra Foray, First Counselor     It was a drab sign, but, then, it was a dismal, backward planet. Theold technician passed on to the next door and closed his eyes again.     With a sinking feeling, Cassal walked toward the entrance. He neededhelp and he had to find it in this dingy rathole.     Inside, though, it wasn't dingy and it wasn't a rathole. More like amaze, an approved scientific one. Efficient, though not comfortable.Travelers Aid was busier than he thought it would be. Eventually hemanaged to squeeze into one of the many small counseling rooms.     A woman appeared on the screen, crisp and cool. Please answereverything the machine asks. When the tape is complete, I'll beavailable for consultation.     Cassal wasn't sure he was going to like her. Is this necessary? heasked. It's merely a matter of information.     We have certain regulations we abide by. The woman smiled frostily.I can't give you any information until you comply with them.     Sometimes regulations are silly, said Cassal firmly. Let me speak tothe first counselor.     You are speaking to her, she said. Her face disappeared from thescreen.     Cassal sighed. So far he hadn't made a good impression.     Travelers Aid Bureau, in addition to regulations, was abundantlysupplied with official curiosity. When the machine finished with him,Cassal had the feeling he could be recreated from the record it had ofhim. His individuality had been capsuled into a series of questions andanswers. One thing he drew the line at—why he wanted to go to Tunney21 was his own business.     The first counselor reappeared. Age, indeterminate. Not, he supposed,that anyone would be curious about it. Slightly taller than average,rather on the slender side. Face was broad at the brow, narrow at thechin and her eyes were enigmatic. A dangerous woman.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the significance of Whonk in the story AIDE MEMOIRE?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the backdrop of the story AIDE MEMOIRE? [SEP] <s>It was quite a bang, said Retief. But I guess you saw it, too.     No, confound it, Magnan said. When I remonstrated with Hulk, orWhelk—     Whonk.     —the ruffian thrust me into an alley bound in my own cloak. I'll mostcertainly complain to the Minister.     How about the surgical mission?     A most generous offer, said Magnan. Frankly, I was astonished. Ithink perhaps we've judged the Groaci too harshly.     I hear the Ministry of Youth has had a rough morning of it, saidRetief. And a lot of rumors are flying to the effect that Youth Groupsare on the way out.     Magnan cleared his throat, shuffled papers. I—ah—have explained tothe press that last night's—ah—     Fiasco.     —affair was necessary in order to place the culprits in an untenableposition. Of course, as to the destruction of the VIP vessel and thepresumed death of, uh, Slop.     The Fustians understand, said Retief. Whonk wasn't kidding aboutceremonial vengeance.     The Groaci had been guilty of gross misuse of diplomatic privilege,said Magnan. I think that a note—or perhaps an Aide Memoire: lessformal....     The      Moss Rock     was bound for Groaci, said Retief. She was alreadyin her transit orbit when she blew. The major fragments will arrive onschedule in a month or so. It should provide quite a meteorite display.I think that should be all the      aide     the Groaci's      memoires     will needto keep their tentacles off Fust.     But diplomatic usage—     Then, too, the less that's put in writing, the less they can blame youfor, if anything goes wrong.     That's true, said Magnan, lips pursed. Now you're thinkingconstructively, Retief. We may make a diplomat of you yet. He smiledexpansively.     Maybe. But I refuse to let it depress me. Retief stood up. I'mtaking a few weeks off ... if you have no objection, Mr. Ambassador. Mypal Whonk wants to show me an island down south where the fishing isgood.     But there are some extremely important matters coming up, saidMagnan. We're planning to sponsor Senior Citizen Groups—     Count me out. All groups give me an itch.     Why, what an astonishing remark, Retief! After all, we diplomats areourselves a group.     Uh-huh, Retief said.     Magnan sat quietly, mouth open, and watched as Retief stepped into thehall and closed the door gently behind him.   <doc-sep>   AIDE MEMOIRE     BY KEITH LAUMER     The Fustians looked like turtles—but     they could move fast when they chose!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Across the table from Retief, Ambassador Magnan rustled a stiff sheetof parchment and looked grave.     This aide memoire, he said, was just handed to me by the CulturalAttache. It's the third on the subject this week. It refers to thematter of sponsorship of Youth groups—     Some youths, Retief said. Average age, seventy-five.     The Fustians are a long-lived people, Magnan snapped. These mattersare relative. At seventy-five, a male Fustian is at a trying age—     That's right. He'll try anything—in the hope it will maim somebody.     Precisely the problem, Magnan said. But the Youth Movement isthe important news in today's political situation here on Fust. Andsponsorship of Youth groups is a shrewd stroke on the part of theTerrestrial Embassy. At my suggestion, well nigh every member of themission has leaped at the opportunity to score a few p—that is, cementrelations with this emergent power group—the leaders of the future.You, Retief, as Councillor, are the outstanding exception.     I'm not convinced these hoodlums need my help in organizing theirrumbles, Retief said. Now, if you have a proposal for a pest controlgroup—     To the Fustians this is no jesting matter, Magnan cut in. Thisgroup— he glanced at the paper—known as the Sexual, Cultural, andAthletic Recreational Society, or SCARS for short, has been awaitingsponsorship for a matter of weeks now.     Meaning they want someone to buy them a clubhouse, uniforms, equipmentand anything else they need to complete their sexual, cultural andathletic development, Retief said.     If we don't act promptly, Magnan said, the Groaci Embassy may wellanticipate us. They're very active here.     That's an idea, said Retief. Let 'em. After awhile they'll go brokeinstead of us.     Nonsense. The group requires a sponsor. I can't actually order you tostep forward. However.... Magnan let the sentence hang in the air.Retief raised one eyebrow.     For a minute there, he said, I thought you were going to make apositive statement.  <doc-sep>The old man stared at the door, an obsolete visual projector wobblingprecariously on his head. He closed his eyes and the lettering on thedoor disappeared. Cassal was too far away to see what it had been. Thetechnician opened his eyes and concentrated. Slowly a new sign formedon the door.     TRAVELERS AID BUREAU     Murra Foray, First Counselor     It was a drab sign, but, then, it was a dismal, backward planet. Theold technician passed on to the next door and closed his eyes again.     With a sinking feeling, Cassal walked toward the entrance. He neededhelp and he had to find it in this dingy rathole.     Inside, though, it wasn't dingy and it wasn't a rathole. More like amaze, an approved scientific one. Efficient, though not comfortable.Travelers Aid was busier than he thought it would be. Eventually hemanaged to squeeze into one of the many small counseling rooms.     A woman appeared on the screen, crisp and cool. Please answereverything the machine asks. When the tape is complete, I'll beavailable for consultation.     Cassal wasn't sure he was going to like her. Is this necessary? heasked. It's merely a matter of information.     We have certain regulations we abide by. The woman smiled frostily.I can't give you any information until you comply with them.     Sometimes regulations are silly, said Cassal firmly. Let me speak tothe first counselor.     You are speaking to her, she said. Her face disappeared from thescreen.     Cassal sighed. So far he hadn't made a good impression.     Travelers Aid Bureau, in addition to regulations, was abundantlysupplied with official curiosity. When the machine finished with him,Cassal had the feeling he could be recreated from the record it had ofhim. His individuality had been capsuled into a series of questions andanswers. One thing he drew the line at—why he wanted to go to Tunney21 was his own business.     The first counselor reappeared. Age, indeterminate. Not, he supposed,that anyone would be curious about it. Slightly taller than average,rather on the slender side. Face was broad at the brow, narrow at thechin and her eyes were enigmatic. A dangerous woman.  <doc-sep>  THE GIANTS RETURN     By ROBERT ABERNATHY     Earth set itself grimly to meet them with     corrosive fire, determined to blast them     back to the stars. But they erred in thinking     the Old Ones were too big to be clever.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      In the last hours the star ahead had grown brighter by many magnitudes,and had changed its color from a dazzling blue through white to thenormal yellow, of a GO sun. That was the Doppler effect as the star'sradial velocity changed relative to the      Quest III     , as for forty hoursthe ship had decelerated.     They had seen many such stars come near out of the galaxy's glitteringbackdrop, and had seen them dwindle, turn red and go out as the      QuestIII     drove on its way once more, lashed by despair toward the speed oflight, leaving behind the mockery of yet another solitary and lifelessluminary unaccompanied by worlds where men might dwell. They had grownsated with the sight of wonders—of multiple systems of giant stars, ofnebulae that sprawled in empty flame across light years.     But now unwonted excitement possessed the hundred-odd members of the      Quest III's     crew. It was a subdued excitement; men and women, theycame and stood quietly gazing into the big vision screens that showedthe oncoming star, and there were wide-eyed children who had been bornin the ship and had never seen a planet. The grownups talked in lowvoices, in tones of mingled eagerness and apprehension, of what mightlie at the long journey's end. For the      Quest III     was coming home; thesun ahead was      the     Sun, whose rays had warmed their lives' beginning.  <doc-sep>I've got it, said Dimanche as Cassal gloomily counted out the sum thefirst counselor had named.     Got what? asked Cassal. He rolled the currency into a neat bundle,attached his name, and dropped it into the chute.     The woman, Murra Foray, the first counselor. She's a Huntner.     What's a Huntner?     A sub-race of men on the other side of the Galaxy. She was vocalizingabout her home planet when I managed to locate her.     Any other information?     None. Electronic guards were sliding into place as soon as I reachedher. I got out as fast as I could.     I see. The significance of that, if any, escaped him. Nevertheless,it sounded depressing.     What I want to know is, said Dimanche, why such precautions aselectronic guards? What does Travelers Aid have that's so secret?     Cassal grunted and didn't answer. Dimanche could be annoyinglyinquisitive at times.     Cassal had entered one side of a block-square building. He came out onthe other side. The agency was larger than he had thought. The old manwas staring at a door as Cassal came out. He had apparently changedevery sign in the building. His work finished, the technician wasremoving the visual projector from his head as Cassal came up to him.He turned and peered.     You stuck here, too? he asked in the uneven voice of the aged.     Stuck? repeated Cassal. I suppose you can call it that. I'm waitingfor my ship. He frowned. He was the one who wanted to ask questions.Why all the redecoration? I thought Travelers Aid was an old agency.Why did you change so many signs? I could understand it if the agencywere new.     The old man chuckled. Re-organization. The previous first counselorresigned suddenly, in the middle of the night, they say. The new onedidn't like the name of the agency, so she ordered it changed.     She would do just that, thought Cassal. What about this Murra Foray?     The old man winked mysteriously. He opened his mouth and then seemedovercome with senile fright. Hurriedly he shuffled away.     Cassal gazed after him, baffled. The old man was afraid for his job,afraid of the first counselor. Why he should be, Cassal didn't know. Heshrugged and went on. The agency was now in motion in his behalf, buthe didn't intend to depend on that alone.  <doc-sep>   The Sense of Wonder     By MILTON LESSER     Illustrated by HARRY ROSENBAUM     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      When nobody aboard ship remembers where it's     going, how can they tell when it has arrived?      Every day for a week now, Rikud had come to the viewport to watchthe great changeless sweep of space. He could not quite explain thefeelings within him; they were so alien, so unnatural. But ever sincethe engines somewhere in the rear of the world had changed their tone,from the steady whining Rikud had heard all twenty-five years of hislife, to the sullen roar that came to his ears now, the feelings hadgrown.     If anyone else had noticed the change, he failed to mention it. Thisdisturbed Rikud, although he could not tell why. And, because he hadrealized this odd difference in himself, he kept it locked up insidehim.     Today, space looked somehow different. The stars—it was a meaninglessconcept to Rikud, but that was what everyone called the brightpinpoints of light on the black backdrop in the viewport—were notapparent in the speckled profusion Rikud had always known. Instead,there was more of the blackness, and one very bright star set apartby itself in the middle of the viewport.     If he had understood the term, Rikud would have told himself this wasodd. His head ached with the half-born thought. It was—it was—whatwas it?     Someone was clomping up the companionway behind Rikud. He turned andgreeted gray-haired old Chuls.     In five more years, the older man chided, you'll be ready to sirechildren. And all you can do in the meantime is gaze out at the stars.     Rikud knew he should be exercising now, or bathing in the rays of thehealth-lamps. It had never occurred to him that he didn't feel like it;he just didn't, without comprehending.     Chuls' reminder fostered uneasiness. Often Rikud had dreamed of thetime he would be thirty and a father. Whom would the Calculator selectas his mate? The first time this idea had occurred to him, Rikudignored it. But it came again, and each time it left him with a feelinghe could not explain. Why should he think thoughts that no other manhad? Why should he think he was thinking such thoughts, when it alwaysembroiled him in a hopeless, infinite confusion that left him with aheadache?     Chuls said, It is time for my bath in the health-rays. I saw you hereand knew it was your time, too....     His voice trailed off. Rikud knew that something which he could notexplain had entered the elder man's head for a moment, but it haddeparted almost before Chuls knew of its existence.     I'll go with you, Rikud told him.  <doc-sep>In the evening a girl brought Maitland his meal. As the door slidaside, he automatically stood up, and they stared at each other forseveral seconds.     She had the high cheekbones and almond eyes of an Oriental, skin thatglowed like gold in the evening light, yet thick coiled braids ofblonde hair that glittered like polished brass. Shorts and a sleevelessblouse of some thick, reddish, metallic-looking fabric clung to herbody, and over that she was wearing a light, ankle-length cloak of whatseemed to be white wool.     She was looking at him with palpable curiosity and something likeexpectancy. Maitland sighed and said, Hello, then glanced downself-consciously at his wrinkled green pajamas.       She smiled, put the tray of food on the table, and swept out, her cloakbillowing behind her. Maitland remained standing, staring at the closeddoor for a minute after she was gone.     Later, when he had finished the steak and corn on the cob and shreddedcarrots, and a feeling of warm well-being was diffusing from hisstomach to his extremities, he sat down on the bed to watch the sunsetand to think.     There were three questions for which he required answers before hecould formulate any plan or policy.     Where was he?     Who was Swarts?     What was the purpose of the tests he was being given?     It was possible, of course, that this was all an elaborate schemefor getting military secrets, despite Swarts' protestations to thecontrary. Maitland frowned. This place certainly didn't have theappearance of a military establishment, and so far there had beennothing to suggest the kind of interrogation to be expected fromforeign intelligence officers.     It might be better to tackle the first question first. He looked atthe Sun, a red spheroid already half below the horizon, and tried tothink of a region that had this kind of terrain. That prairie out therewas unique. Almost anywhere in the world, land like that would becultivated, not allowed to go to grass.     This might be somewhere in Africa....     He shook his head, puzzled. The Sun disappeared and its blood-huedglow began to fade from the sky. Maitland sat there, trying to gethold of the problem from an angle where it wouldn't just slip away.After a while the western sky became a screen of clear luminous blue,a backdrop for a pure white brilliant star. As always at that sight,Maitland felt his worry drain away, leaving an almost mystical sense ofpeace and an undefinable longing.     Venus, the most beautiful of the planets.     Maitland kept track of them all in their majestic paths through theconstellations, but Venus was his favorite. Time and time again hehad watched its steady climb higher and higher in the western sky,its transient rule there as evening star, its progression toward thehorizon, and loved it equally in its      alter ego     of morning star. Venuswas an old friend. An old friend....     Something icy settled on the back of his neck, ran down his spine, anddiffused into his body. He stared at the planet unbelievingly, fistsclenched, forgetting to breathe.     Last night Venus hadn't been there.     Venus was a morning star just now....       Just now!       He realized the truth in that moment.  <doc-sep>The experts in logic arrived shortly, and in no uncertain terms Korvinwas given to understand that logical paradox was not going to confuseanybody on the planet. The barber who did, or didn't, shave himself,the secretary of the club whose members were secretaries, Achilles andthe tortoise, and all the other lovely paradox-models scattered aroundwere so much primer material for the Tr'en. They can be treatedmathematically, one of the experts, a small emerald-green being, toldKorvin thinly. Of course, you would not understand the mathematics.But that is not important. You need only understand that we cannot beconfused by such means.     Good, Korvin said.     The experts blinked. Good? he said.     Naturally, Korvin said in a friendly tone.     The expert frowned horribly, showing all of his teeth. Korvin did hisbest not to react. Your plan is a failure, the expert said, and youcall this a good thing. You can mean only that your plan is differentfrom the one we are occupied with.     True, Korvin said.     There was a short silence. The expert beamed. He examined theindicators of the lie-detector with great care. What is your plan?he said at last, in a conspiratorial whisper.     To answer your questions, truthfully and logically, Korvin said.     The silence this time was even longer.     The machine says that you tell the truth, the experts said at last,in a awed tone. Thus, you must be a traitor to your native planet.You must want us to conquer your planet, and have come here secretlyto aid us.     Korvin was very glad that wasn't a question. It was, after all, theonly logical deduction.     But it happened to be wrong.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the backdrop of the story AIDE MEMOIRE?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in THE PLAGUE? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>June looked in stunned silence at the stranger leaning against thetree. Thirty-six light years—thirty-six times six trillion milesof monotonous space travel—to be told that the planet was alreadysettled! We didn't know there was a colony here, she said. It is noton the map.     We were afraid of that, the tall bronze man answered soberly. Wehave been here three generations and yet no traders have come.     Max shifted the kit strap on his shoulder and offered a hand. My nameis Max Stark, M.D. This is June Walton, M.D., Hal Barton, M.D., andGeorge Barton, Hal's brother, also M.D.     Patrick Mead is the name, smiled the man, shaking hands casually.Just a hunter and bridge carpenter myself. Never met any medicosbefore.     The grip was effortless but even through her airproofed glove Junecould feel that the fingers that touched hers were as hard as paddedsteel.     What—what is the population of Minos? she asked.     He looked down at her curiously for a moment before answering. Onlyone hundred and fifty. He smiled. Don't worry, this isn't a cityplanet yet. There's room for a few more people. He shook hands withthe Bartons quickly. That is—you are people, aren't you? he askedstartlingly.     Why not? said Max with a poise that June admired.     Well, you are all so—so— Patrick Mead's eyes roamed across thefaces of the group. So varied.     They could find no meaning in that, and stood puzzled.     I mean, Patrick Mead said into the silence, all these—interestingdifferent hair colors and face shapes and so forth— He made a vaguewave with one hand as if he had run out of words or was anxious not toinsult them.     Joke? Max asked, bewildered.     June laid a hand on his arm. No harm meant, she said to him over theintercom. We're just as much of a shock to him as he is to us.     She addressed a question to the tall colonist on outside sound. Whatshould a person look like, Mr. Mead?     He indicated her with a smile. Like you.     June stepped closer and stood looking up at him, considering her owndescription. She was tall and tanned, like him; had a few freckles,like him; and wavy red hair, like his. She ignored the brightlyhumorous blue eyes.     In other words, she said, everyone on the planet looks like you andme?     Patrick Mead took another look at their four faces and began to grin.Like me, I guess. But I hadn't thought of it before. I did not thinkthat people could have different colored hair or that noses could fitso many ways onto faces. I was judging by my own appearance, but Isuppose any fool can walk on his hands and say the world is upsidedown! He laughed and sobered. But then why wear spacesuits? The airis breathable.     For safety, June told him. We can't take any chances on plague.     Pat Mead was wearing nothing but a loin cloth and his weapons, and thewind ruffled his hair. He looked comfortable, and they longed to takeoff the stuffy spacesuits and feel the wind against their own skins.Minos was like home, like Earth.... But they were strangers.     Plague, Pat Mead said thoughtfully. We had one here. It came twoyears after the colony arrived and killed everyone except the Meadfamilies. They were immune. I guess we look alike because we're allrelated, and that's why I grew up thinking that it is the only waypeople can look.       Plague.     What was the disease? Hal Barton asked.     Pretty gruesome, according to my father. They called it the meltingsickness. The doctors died too soon to find out what it was or what todo about it.     You should have trained for more doctors, or sent to civilization forsome. A trace of impatience was in George Barton's voice.     Pat Mead explained patiently, Our ship, with the power plant and allthe books we needed, went off into the sky to avoid the contagion,and never came back. The crew must have died. Long years of hardshipwere indicated by that statement, a colony with electric power goneand machinery stilled, with key technicians dead and no way to replacethem. June realized then the full meaning of the primitive sheath knifeand bow.     Any recurrence of melting sickness? asked Hal Barton.     No.     Any other diseases?     Not a one.     Max was eyeing the bronze red-headed figure with something approachingawe. Do you think all the Meads look like that? he said to June onthe intercom. I wouldn't mind being a Mead myself!  <doc-sep>    THE PLAGUE         By TEDDY KELLER         Suppose a strictly one hundred per cent American plagueshowed up.... One that attacked only people within thepolitical borders of the United States!         Illustrated by Schoenherr      Sergeant Major Andrew McCloud ignored the jangling telephones and theexcited jabber of a room full of brass, and lit a cigarette. Somebodyhad to keep his head in this mess. Everybody was about to flip.     Like the telephone. Two days ago Corporal Bettijean Baker had beenanswering the rare call on the single line—in that friendly, huskyvoice that gave even generals pause—by saying, Good morning. Officeof the Civil Health and Germ Warfare Protection Co-ordinator. Nowthere was a switchboard out in the hall with a web of lines running toa dozen girls at a half dozen desks wedged into the outer office. Andnow the harried girls answered with a hasty, Germ War Protection.     All the brass hats in Washington had suddenly discovered this officedeep in the recesses of the Pentagon. And none of them could quitecomprehend what had happened. The situation might have been funny, orat least pathetic, if it hadn't been so desperate. Even so, AndyMcCloud's nerves and patience had frayed thin.     I told you, general, he snapped to the flustered brigadier, ColonelPatterson was retired ten days ago. I don't know what happened. Maybethis replacement sawbones got strangled in red tape. Anyhow, thebrand-new lieutenant hasn't showed up here. As far as I know, I'm incharge.     But this is incredible, a two-star general wailed. A mysteriousepidemic is sweeping the country, possibly an insidious germ attacktimed to precede an all-out invasion, and a noncom is sitting on topof the whole powder keg.     Andy's big hands clenched into fists and he had to wait a momentbefore he could speak safely. Doggone the freckles and the unruly mopof hair that give him such a boyish look. May I remind you, general,he said, that I've been entombed here for two years. My staff and Iknow what to do. If you'll give us some co-operation and a priority,we'll try to figure this thing out.     But good heavens, a chicken colonel moaned, this is all soirregular. A noncom! He said it like a dirty word.     Irregular, hell, the brigadier snorted, the message getting through.There're ways. Gentlemen, I suggest we clear out of here and let thesergeant get to work. He took a step toward the door, and the otherofficers, protesting and complaining, moved along after him. As theydrifted out, he turned and said, We'll clear your office for toppriority. Then dead serious, he added, Son, a whole nation couldpanic at any moment. You've got to come through.     Andy didn't waste time standing. He merely nodded to the general,snubbed out his cigarette, and buzzed the intercom. Bettijean, willyou bring me all the latest reports, please? Then he peeled out ofhis be-ribboned blouse and rolled up his sleeves. He allowed himselfone moment to enjoy the sight of the slim, black-headed corporal whoentered his office.  <doc-sep>She had stopped, trembling and gasping. Roddie clung just below herand looked dazedly around. There was nothing in sight but fog, piercedby the rapier of rusted wire supporting them. Neither end of it was insight.     Upward lay success, if death were not nearer on the cable. No soldierhad ever come even this far, for soldiers, as he'd told Ida, never leftthe city, were not built to do so. But      he     was here; with luck, hecould capitalize on the differences that had plagued him so long.     Go on! he ordered hoarsely. Move!     There was neither answer nor result. He broke off an end of loosenedwire and jabbed her rear. Ida gasped and crawled on.     Up and up they went, chilled, wet, bleeding, pain-racked, exhausted.Never had Roddie felt so thoroughly the defects of his peculiarnon-mechanical construction.     Without realizing it, he acquired a new purpose, a duty as compellingas that of any soldier or fire-watcher. He had to keep that tremblingbody of his alive, mount to the tall rust tower overhead.     He climbed and he made Ida climb, till, at nightmare's end, the fogthinned and they came into clear, windswept air and clawed up the lasthundred feet to sanctuary.     They were completely spent. Without word or thought they crept withinthe tower, huddled together for warmth on its dank steel deck, andslept for several hours.  <doc-sep>   HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS     By JIM HARMON     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Every lonely man tries to make friends.     Manet just didn't know when to stop!      William Manet was alone.     In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It wouldgive him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlateloneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take himto start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to beginteaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminablelectures to a bored and captive audience of one.     He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whetherit was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and asdirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal andthink more like a god than any man for generations.     But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearingbore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.     Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was alreadytalking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he hadcut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up andwinked at it whenever he passed that way.     Lately she was winking back at him.     Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh fromhis arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.     No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manetcould only be this lonely on Mars.     Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.     All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middleof the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat,flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in theblack sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moonsand one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The wholegimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one wasneeded here—no human being, at least.     The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn'ttake much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefullyspecified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycombMars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.     They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated peoplefor the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going toisolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manetand his fellows.     The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fareto Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuterservice for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodationsfor couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren'tproviding fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits betweenthe various Overseers. They weren't very providential.     But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offeredwonderful opportunities.     It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship makinga tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning asbright as envy.  <doc-sep>The youth hesitated. It is not a secret project, he muttered. Whyshould it be secret?     You tell me.     The youth worked his jaws and rocked his head from side to side in theFusty gesture of uncertainty. There is nothing to conceal, he said.We merely construct a passenger liner.     Then you don't mind if I look over the drawings, said Retief. Whoknows? Maybe some day I'll want to reserve a suite for the trip out.     The youth turned and disappeared. Retief grinned at the oldster. Wentfor his big brother, I guess, he said. I have a feeling I won't getto study these in peace here. Mind if I copy them?     Willingly, light-footed one, said the old Fustian. And mine is theshame for the discourtesy of youth.     Retief took out a tiny camera, flipped a copying lens in place, leafedthrough the drawings, clicking the shutter.     A plague on these youths, said the oldster, who grow more virulentday by day.     Why don't you elders clamp down?     Agile are they and we are slow of foot. And this unrest is new.Unknown in my youth was such insolence.     The police—     Bah! the ancient rumbled. None have we worthy of the name, nor havewe needed ought ere now.     What's behind it?     They have found leaders. The spiv, Slock, is one. And I fear they plotmischief. He pointed to the window. They come, and a Soft One withthem.     Retief pocketed the camera, glanced out the window. A pale-featuredGroaci with an ornately decorated crest stood with the youths, who eyedthe hut, then started toward it.     That's the military attache of the Groaci Embassy, Retief said. Iwonder what he and the boys are cooking up together?     Naught that augurs well for the dignity of Fust, the oldster rumbled.Flee, agile one, while I engage their attentions.     I was just leaving, Retief said. Which way out?     The rear door, the Fustian gestured with a stubby member. Rest well,stranger on these shores. He moved to the entrance.     Same to you, pop, said Retief. And thanks.     He eased through the narrow back entrance, waited until voices wereraised at the front of the shed, then strolled off toward the gate.  <doc-sep>They walked on. A quarter of a mile back, the space ship      Explorer     towered over the forest like a tapering skyscraper, and the people ofthe ship looked out of the viewplates at fresh winds and sunlight andclouds, and they longed to be outside.     But the likeness to Earth was danger, and the cool wind might be death,for if the animals were like Earth animals, their diseases might belike Earth diseases, alike enough to be contagious, different enough tobe impossible to treat. There was warning enough in the past. Colonieshad vanished, and traveled spaceways drifted with the corpses of shipswhich had touched on some plague planet.     The people of the ship waited while their doctors, in airtightspacesuits, hunted animals to test them for contagion.     The four medicos, for June Walton was also a doctor, filed through thealien homelike forest, walking softly, watching for motion among thecopper and purple shadows.     They saw it suddenly, a lighter moving copper patch among the darkerbrowns. Reflex action swung June's gun into line, and behind hersomeone's gun went off with a faint crackle of static, and made a holein the leaves beside the specimen. Then for a while no one moved.     This one looked like a man, a magnificently muscled, leanly graceful,humanlike animal. Even in its callused bare feet, it was a head tallerthan any of them. Red-haired, hawk-faced and darkly tanned, it stoodbreathing heavily, looking at them without expression. At its side hunga sheath knife, and a crossbow was slung across one wide shoulder.     They lowered their guns.     It needs a shave, Max said reasonably in their earphones, and hereached up to his helmet and flipped the switch that let his voice beheard. Something we could do for you, Mac?     The friendly drawl was the first voice that had broken the forestsounds. June smiled suddenly. He was right. The strict logic ofevolution did not demand beards; therefore a non-human would not bewearing a three day growth of red stubble.     Still panting, the tall figure licked dry lips and spoke. Welcome toMinos. The Mayor sends greetings from Alexandria.     English? gasped June.     We were afraid you would take off again before I could bring word toyou.... It's three hundred miles.... We saw your scout plane passtwice, but we couldn't attract its attention.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in THE PLAGUE?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How does the character of Sergeant Andy McCloud develop in THE PLAGUE? [SEP] <s>    THE PLAGUE         By TEDDY KELLER         Suppose a strictly one hundred per cent American plagueshowed up.... One that attacked only people within thepolitical borders of the United States!         Illustrated by Schoenherr      Sergeant Major Andrew McCloud ignored the jangling telephones and theexcited jabber of a room full of brass, and lit a cigarette. Somebodyhad to keep his head in this mess. Everybody was about to flip.     Like the telephone. Two days ago Corporal Bettijean Baker had beenanswering the rare call on the single line—in that friendly, huskyvoice that gave even generals pause—by saying, Good morning. Officeof the Civil Health and Germ Warfare Protection Co-ordinator. Nowthere was a switchboard out in the hall with a web of lines running toa dozen girls at a half dozen desks wedged into the outer office. Andnow the harried girls answered with a hasty, Germ War Protection.     All the brass hats in Washington had suddenly discovered this officedeep in the recesses of the Pentagon. And none of them could quitecomprehend what had happened. The situation might have been funny, orat least pathetic, if it hadn't been so desperate. Even so, AndyMcCloud's nerves and patience had frayed thin.     I told you, general, he snapped to the flustered brigadier, ColonelPatterson was retired ten days ago. I don't know what happened. Maybethis replacement sawbones got strangled in red tape. Anyhow, thebrand-new lieutenant hasn't showed up here. As far as I know, I'm incharge.     But this is incredible, a two-star general wailed. A mysteriousepidemic is sweeping the country, possibly an insidious germ attacktimed to precede an all-out invasion, and a noncom is sitting on topof the whole powder keg.     Andy's big hands clenched into fists and he had to wait a momentbefore he could speak safely. Doggone the freckles and the unruly mopof hair that give him such a boyish look. May I remind you, general,he said, that I've been entombed here for two years. My staff and Iknow what to do. If you'll give us some co-operation and a priority,we'll try to figure this thing out.     But good heavens, a chicken colonel moaned, this is all soirregular. A noncom! He said it like a dirty word.     Irregular, hell, the brigadier snorted, the message getting through.There're ways. Gentlemen, I suggest we clear out of here and let thesergeant get to work. He took a step toward the door, and the otherofficers, protesting and complaining, moved along after him. As theydrifted out, he turned and said, We'll clear your office for toppriority. Then dead serious, he added, Son, a whole nation couldpanic at any moment. You've got to come through.     Andy didn't waste time standing. He merely nodded to the general,snubbed out his cigarette, and buzzed the intercom. Bettijean, willyou bring me all the latest reports, please? Then he peeled out ofhis be-ribboned blouse and rolled up his sleeves. He allowed himselfone moment to enjoy the sight of the slim, black-headed corporal whoentered his office.  <doc-sep>It was hours later when Bettijean came back into the office withanother stack of papers. Andy hung up his phone and reached for acigarette. At that moment the door banged open. Nerves raw, Bettijeancried out. Andy's cigarette tumbled from his trembling fingers.     Sergeant, the chicken colonel barked, parading into the office.     Andy swore under his breath and eyed the two young officers whotrailed after the colonel. Emotionally exhausted, he had to clamp hisjaw against a huge laugh that struggled up in his throat. For just aninstant there, the colonel had reminded him of a movie version ofGeneral Rommel strutting up and down before his tanks. But it wasn't aswagger stick the colonel had tucked under his arm. It was a foldednewspaper. Opening it, the colonel flung it down on Andy's desk.     RED PLAGUE SWEEPS NATION, the scare headline screamed. Andy's firstglance caught such phrases as alleged Russian plot and germwarfare and authorities hopelessly baffled.     Snatching the paper, Andy balled it and hurled it from him. That'llhelp a lot, he growled hoarsely.     Well, then, Sergeant. The colonel tried to relax his square face,but tension rode every weathered wrinkle and fear glinted behind thepale gray eyes. So you finally recognize the gravity of thesituation.     Andy's head snapped up, heated words searing towards his lips.Bettijean stepped quickly around the desk and laid a steady hand onhis shoulder.     Colonel, she said levelly, you should know better than that.     A shocked young captain exploded, Corporal. Maybe you'd better reportto—     All right, Andy said sharply.     For a long moment he stared at his clenched fists. Then he exhaledslowly and, to the colonel, flatly and without apology, he said,You'll have to excuse the people in this office if they overlook someof the G.I. niceties. We've been without sleep for two days, we'resurviving on sandwiches and coffee, and we're fighting a war here thatmakes every other one look like a Sunday School picnic. He feltBettijean's hand tighten reassuringly on his shoulder and he gave hera tired smile. Then he hunched forward and picked up a report. So saywhat you came here to say and let us get back to work.     Sergeant, the captain said, as if reading from a manual,insubordination cannot be tolerated, even under emergency conditions.Your conduct here will be noted and—     Oh, good heavens! Bettijean cried, her fingers biting into Andy'sshoulder. Do you have to come in here trying to throw your weightaround when this man—     That's enough, the colonel snapped. I had hoped that you two wouldco-operate, but.... He let the sentence trail off as he swelled up abit with his own importance. I have turned Washington upside down toget these two officers from the surgeon general's office. Sergeant.Corporal. You are relieved of your duties as of this moment. You willreport to my office at once for suitable disciplinary action.     Bettijean sucked in a strained breath and her hand flew to her mouth.But you can't—     Let's go, Andy said, pushing up from his chair. Ignoring the brass,he turned to her and brushed his lips across hers. Let them sweat awhile. Let 'em have the whole stinking business. Whatever they do tous, at least we can get some sleep.     But you can't quit now, Bettijean protested. These brass hats don'tknow from—     Corporal! the colonel roared.  <doc-sep>And from the door, an icy voice said, Yes, colonel?     The colonel and his captains wheeled, stared and saluted. Oh,general, the colonel said. I was just—     I know, the brigadier said, stepping into the room. I've beenlistening to you. And I thought I suggested that everybody leave thesergeant and his staff alone.     But, general, I—     The general showed the colonel his back and motioned Andy into hischair. He glanced to Bettijean and a smile warmed his wedge face.Corporal, were you speaking just then as a woman or as a soldier?     Crimson erupted into Bettijean's face and her tight laugh said manythings. She shrugged. Both I guess.     The general waved her to a chair and, oblivious of the colonel, pulledup a chair for himself. The last trace of humor drained from his faceas he leaned elbows on the desk. Andy, this is even worse than we hadfeared.     Andy fumbled for a cigarette and Bettijean passed him a match. Acaptain opened his mouth to speak, but the colonel shushed him.     I've just come from Intelligence, the general said. We haven't hada report—nothing from our agents, from the Diplomatic Corps, from thecivilian newspapermen—not a word from any Iron Curtain country for aday and half. Everybody's frantic. The last item we had—it was acoded message the Reds'd tried to censor—was an indication ofsomething big in the works.     A day and half ago, Andy mused. Just about the time we knew we hadan epidemic. And about the time they knew it.     It could be just propaganda, Bettijean said hopefully, proving thatthey could cripple us from within.     The general nodded. Or it could be the softening up for an all-outeffort. Every American base in the world is alerted and everyserviceman is being issued live ammunition. If we're wrong, we'vestill got an epidemic and panic that could touch it off. If we'reright ... well, we've got to know. What can you do?     Andy dropped his haggard face into his hands. His voice came throughmuffled. I can sit here and cry. For an eternity he sat there,futility piling on helplessness, aware of Bettijean's hand on his arm.He heard the colonel try to speak and sensed the general's movementthat silenced him.     Suddenly he sat upright and slapped a palm down on the desk. We'llfind your answers, sir. All we ask is co-operation.     The general gave both Andy and Bettijean a long, sober look, thenlaunched himself from the chair. Pivoting, he said, Colonel, you andyour captains will be stationed by that switchboard out there. For theduration of this emergency, you will take orders only from thesergeant and the corporal here.     But, general, the colonel wailed, a noncom? I'm assigned—     The general snorted. Insubordination cannot be tolerated—unless youfind a two-star general to outrank me. Now, as I said before, let'sget out of here and let these people work.  <doc-sep>It was Bettijean who squeezed into the office and broke the brittlesilence. Andy, for heaven's sake, what is it? Then she moved aroundthe desk to stand behind him as he faced the officers.     Have you got something? the brigadier asked. Some girl outside wasbabbling about writers and doctors, and dentists and college students,and little secretaries and big secretaries. Have you established atrend?     Andy glanced at the lab report and his smile was as relieved as it wasweary. Our problem, he said, was in figuring out what a writer doesthat a doctor doesn't—why girls from small offices were sick—and whysenators and postal workers weren't—why college students caught thebug and people in a Tennessee community didn't.     The lab report isn't complete. They haven't had time to isolate thepoison and prescribe medication. But—he held up a four-centstamp—here's the villain, gentlemen.     The big brass stood stunned and shocked. Mouths flapped open and eyesbugged at Andy, at the stamp.     Bettijean said, Sure. College kids and engaged girls and new parentsand especially writers and artists and poets—they'd all lick lots ofstamps. Professional men have secretaries. Big offices havepostage-meter machines. And government offices have free franking.And—she threw her arms around the sergeant's neck—Andy, you'rewonderful.     The old American ingenuity, the colonel said, reaching for Andy'sphone. I knew we could lick it. Now all we have to do—     At ease, colonel, the brigadier said sharply. He waited until thecolonel had retreated, then addressed Andy. It's your show. What doyou suggest?     Get somebody—maybe even the President—on all radio and TV networks.Explain frankly about the four-centers and warn against licking anystamps. Then—     He broke off as his phone rang. Answering, he listened for a moment,then hung up and said, But before the big announcement, get somebodychecking on the security clearances at whatever plant it is where theyprint stamps. This's a big deal. Somebody may've been planted yearsago for this operation. It shouldn't be too hard.     But there's no evidence it was a plot yet. Could be pureaccident—some chemical in the stickum spoiled. Do they keep thestickum in barrels? Find out who had access. And ... oh, the phonecall. That was the lab. The antidote's simple and the cure should bequick. They can phone or broadcast the medical information to doctors.The man on the phone said they could start emptying hospitals in sixhours. And maybe we should release some propaganda. United Stateswhips mystery virus, or something like that. And we could send theKremlin a stamp collection and.... Aw, you take it, sir. I'm pooped.  <doc-sep>Bettijean crossed briskly to his desk. She gave him a motherly smileas she put down a thick sheaf of papers. You look beat, she said.Brass give you much trouble?     Not much. We're top priority now. He ran fingers through the thick,brown hair and massaged his scalp, trying to generate stimulation tohis wary and confused brain. What's new?     I've gone though some of these, she said. Tried to save you alittle time.     Thanks. Sit down.     She pulled up a chair and thumbed through the papers. So far, nofatalities. That's why there's no panic yet, I guess. But it'sspreading like ... well, like a plague. Fear flickered deep in herdark eyes.     Any water reports? Andy asked.     Wichita O.K., Indianapolis O.K., Tulsa O.K., Buffalo O.K.,—and abunch more. No indication there. Except—she fished out a one-pagereport—some little town in Tennessee. Yesterday there was a campaignfor everybody to write their congressman about some deal and todaythey were to vote on a new water system. Hardly anybody showed up atthe polls. They've all got it.     Andy shrugged. You can drink water, but don't vote for it. Oh, that'sa big help. He rummaged through the clutter on his desk and came upwith a crude chart. Any trends yet?     It's hitting everybody, Bettijean said helplessly. Not many kids sofar, thank heavens. But housewives, businessmen, office workers,teachers, preachers—rich, poor—from Florida to Alaska. Just when youcalled me in, one of the girls thought she had a trend. The isolatedmountain areas of the West and South. But reports are toofragmentary.     What is it? he cried suddenly, banging the desk. People deathlyill, but nobody dying. And doctors can't identify the poison untilthey have a fatality for an autopsy. People stricken in every part ofthe country, but the water systems are pure. How does it spread?     In food?     How? There must be hundreds of canneries and dairies and packingplants over the country. How could they all goof at the sametime—even if it was sabotage?     On the wind?     But who could accurately predict every wind over the entirecountry—even Alaska and Hawaii—without hitting Canada or Mexico? Andwhy wouldn't everybody get it in a given area?     Bettijean's smooth brow furrowed and she reached across the desk togrip his icy, sweating hands. Andy, do ... do you think it's ...well, an enemy?     I don't know, he said. I just don't know.     For a long moment he sat there, trying to draw strength from her,punishing his brain for the glimmer of an idea. Finally, shaking hishead, he pushed back into his chair and reached for the sheaf ofpapers.     We've got to find a clue—a trend—an inkling of something. Henodded toward the outer office. Stop all in-coming calls. Get thosegirls on lines to hospitals in every city and town in the country.Have them contact individual doctors in rural areas. Then line upanother relief crew, and get somebody carting in more coffee andsandwiches. And on those calls, be sure we learn the sex, age, andoccupation of the victims. You and I'll start with Washington.     Bettijean snapped to her feet, grinned her encouragement and strodefrom the room. Andy could hear her crisp instructions to the girls onthe phones. Sucking air through his teeth, he reached for his phoneand directory.     He dialed until every finger of his right hand was sore. He spoke toworried doctors and frantic hospital administrators and hystericalnurses. His firm, fine penmanship deteriorated to a barely legiblescrawl as writer's cramp knotted his hand and arm. His voice burneddown to a rasping whisper. But columns climbed up his rough chart andbroken lines pointed vaguely to trends.  <doc-sep>The girl followed him across the room, around tables, through a door,down a hall, through a back door and into the alley.     She followed him up the dark alley until he turned suddenly and rippedher blouse and skirt.     He surprised her completely, but when she recovered, she backed away,her body poised like a wrestler's. What's the big idea?     Scream, Joe said. Scream as loud as you can, and when the cops gethere, tell 'em I tried to rape you.     The plan was perfect, he told himself. Attempted rape was one of thefew things that was a crime merely because a man attempted it. A crimebecause it theoretically inflicted psychological injury upon theintended victim—and because millions of women voters had voted it acrime. On the other hand, attempted murder, robbery, kidnapping, etc.,were not crimes. They weren't crimes because the DCT didn't completethe act, and if he didn't complete the act, that meant simply that theCPA had once again functioned properly.     The girl shook her head vigorously. Sorry, buddy. Can't help you thatway. Why didn't you tell me what you wanted?     What's the matter? Joe complained. I'm not asking you to do anythingwrong.     You stupid jerk. What do you think this is—the Middle Ages? Don't youknow almost every woman knows how to defend herself? I'm a sergeant inthe WSDA!     Joe groaned. The WSDA—Women's Self-Defense Association—a branch ofthe CPA. The WSDA gave free instruction in judo and jujitsu, evendeveloped new techniques of wrestling and instructed only women inthose new techniques.     The girl was still shaking her head. Can't do it, buddy. I'd lose myrank if you were convicted of—     Do I have to      make     you scream? Joe inquired tiredly and advancedtoward the girl.     —and that rank carries a lot of weight. Hey!      Stop it!          Joe discovered to his dismay that the girl was telling the truth whenshe said she was a sergeant in the WSDA. He felt her hands on his body,and in the time it takes to blink twice, he was flying through the air.       The alley's concrete floor was hard—it had always been hard, but hebecame acutely aware of its lack of resiliency when his head struck it.There was a wonderful moment while the world was filled with beautifulstars and streaks of lightning through which he heard distant policesirens. But the wonderful moment didn't last long and darkness closedin on him.  <doc-sep>In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk,then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed.     Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back toBettijean, Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab.     It was the girl who had been so nervous in his office earlier. Now shelay in a pathetic little heap between her desk and chair, whimpering,shivering, eyes wide with horror. The other girls clustered at thehall door, plainly ready to stampede.     It's not contagious, Andy growled. Find some blankets or coats tocover her. And get a glass of water.     The other girls, glad for the excuse, dashed away. Andy scooped up thefallen girl and put her down gently on the close-jammed desks. He useda chair cushion for a pillow. By then the other girls were back with ablanket and the glass of water. He covered the girl, gave her a sip ofwater and heard somebody murmur, Poor Janis.     Now, Andy said brightly, how's that, Janis?     She mustered a smile, and breathed, Better. I ... I was so scared.Fever and dizzy ... symptoms like the epidemic.     Now you know there's nothing to be afraid of, Andy said, feelingsuddenly and ridiculously like a pill roller with a practiced bedsidemanner. You know you may feel pretty miserable, but nobody's conkedout with this stuff yet.     Janis breathed out and her taut body relaxed.     Don't hurry, Andy said, but I want you to tell me everything thatyou did—everything you ate or drank—in the last ... oh, twelvehours. He felt a pressure behind him and swiveled his head to seeBettijean standing there. He tried to smile.     What time is it? Janis asked weakly.     Andy glanced to a wall clock, then gave it a double take.     One of the girls said, It's three o'clock in the morning. She edgednearer Andy, obviously eager to replace Janis as the center ofattention. Andy ignored her.     I ... I've been here since ... golly, yesterday morning at nine,Janis said. I came to work as usual and....     Slowly, haltingly, she recited the routine of a routine work day, thentold about the quick snack that sufficed for supper and about stayingon her phone and typewriter for another five hours. It was abouteleven when the relief crew came in.     What did you do then? Andy asked.     I ... I took a break and.... Her ivory skin reddened, the colorspreading into the roots of her fluffy curls, and she turned her faceaway from Andy. And I had a sandwich and some coffee and got a littlenap in the ladies' lounge and ... and that's all.     And that's not all, Andy prompted. What else?     Nothing, Janis said too quickly.     Andy shook his head. Tell it all and maybe it'll help.     But ... but....     Was it something against regulations?     I ... I don't know. I think....     I'll vouch for your job in this office.     Well.... She seemed on the verge of tears and her pleading glancesought out Andy, then Bettijean, then her co-workers. Finally,resigned, she said, I ... I wrote a letter to my mother.     Andy swallowed against his groan of disappointment. And you told herabout what we were doing here.     Janis nodded, and tears welled into her wide eyes.     Did you mail it?     Y ... yes.     You didn't use a government envelope to save a stamp?     Oh, no. I always carry a few stamps with me. She choked down a sob.Did I do wrong?     No, I don't think so, Andy said, patting her shoulder. There'scertainly nothing secret about this epidemic. Now you just take iteasy and—. Oh, here's a doctor now.     The doctor, a white-headed Air Force major, bustled into the room. Alab technician in a white smock was close behind. Andy could onlyshrug and indicate the girl.     Turning away, lighting a cigarette, he tried to focus on the tangle ofthoughts that spun through his head. Doctors, writers, societymatrons, office workers—Aspen, Taos and college towns—thousands ofpeople sick—but none in that valley in Tennessee—and few governmentworkers—just one girl in his office—and she was sicker and morefrightened about a letter—and....     Hey, wait! Andy yelled.     Everyone in the room froze as Andy spun around, dashed to Bettijean'sdesk and yanked out the wide, top drawer. He pawed through it,straightened, then leaped across to the desk Janis had used. Hesnatched open drawer after drawer. In a bottom one he found her purse.Ripping it open, he dumped the contents on the desk and clawed throughthe pile until he found what he wanted. Handing it to the labtechnician, he said, Get me a report. Fast.     The technician darted out.     Andy wheeled to Bettijean. Get the brass in here. And call thegeneral first. To the doctor, he said, Give that girl the best ofeverything.     Then he ducked back to his own office and to the pile of reports. Hewas still poring over them when the general arrived. Half a dozenother brass hats, none of whom had been to bed, were close behind. Thelab technician arrived a minute later. He shook his head as he handedhis hastily scribbled report to Andy.  <doc-sep>The brass exited wordlessly. Bettijean sighed noisily. Andy found hiscigarette dead and lit another. He fancied a tiny lever in his brainand he shifted gears to direct his thinking back into the properchannel. Abruptly his fatigue began to lift. He picked up the new pileof reports Bettijean had brought in.     She move around the desk and sat, noting the phone book he had used,studying the names he had crossed off. Did you learn anything? sheasked.     Andy coughed, trying to clear his raw throat. It's crazy, he said.From the Senate and House on down, I haven't found a singlegovernment worker sick.     I found a few, she said. Over in a Virginia hospital.     But I did find, Andy said, flipping through pages of his ownscrawl, a society matron and her social secretary, a whole flock ofoffice workers—business, not government—and new parents and newlyengaged girls and.... He shrugged.     Did you notice anything significant about those office workers?     Andy nodded. I was going to ask you the same, since I was justguessing. I hadn't had time to check it out.     Well, I checked some. Practically none of my victims came from bigoffices, either business or industry. They were all out of one andtwo-girl offices or small businesses.     That was my guess. And do you know that I didn't find a doctor,dentist or attorney?     Nor a single postal worker.     Andy tried to smile. One thing we do know. It's not a communicablething. Thank heaven for—     He broke off as a cute blonde entered and put stacks of reports beforeboth Andy and Bettijean. The girl hesitated, fidgeting, fingers to herteeth. Then, without speaking, she hurried out.     Andy stared at the top sheet and groaned. This may be something. Halfthe adult population of Aspen, Colorado, is down.     What? Bettijean frowned over the report in her hands. It's the samething—only not quite as severe—in Taos and Santa Fe, New Mexico.     Writers?     Mostly. Some artists, too, and musicians. And poets are among thehard hit.     This is insane, Andy muttered. Doctors and dentists arefine—writers and poets are sick. Make sense out of that.     Bettijean held up a paper and managed a confused smile. Here's acountry doctor in Tennessee. He doesn't even know what it's all about.Nobody's sick in his valley.     Somebody in our outer office is organized, Andy said, pulling at hiscigarette. Here're reports from a dozen military installations alllumped together.     What does it show?     Black-out. By order of somebody higher up—no medical releases. Mustmean they've got it. He scratched the growing stubble on his chin.If this were a fifth column setup, wouldn't the armed forces be thefirst hit?     Sure, Bettijean brightened, then sobered. Maybe not. The brasscould keep it secret if an epidemic hit an army camp. And they couldslap a control condition on any military area. But the panic will comefrom the general public.     Here's another batch, Andy said. Small college towns undertwenty-five thousand population. All hard hit.     Well, it's not split intellectually. Small colleges and small officesand writers get it. Doctors don't and dentists don't. But we can'ttell who's got it on the military bases.     And it's not geographical. Look, remember those two reports fromTennessee? That place where they voted on water bonds or something,everybody had it. But the country doctor in another section hadn'teven heard of it. Andy could only shake his head.     Bettijean heaved herself up from the chair and trudged back to theouter office. She returned momentarily with a tray of food. Putting apaper cup of coffee and a sandwich in front of Andy, she sat down andnibbled at her snack like an exhausted chipmunk.     Andy banged a fist at his desk again. Coffee splashed over the rim ofhis cup onto the clutter of papers. It's here, he said angrily.It's here somewhere, but we can't find it.     The answer?     Of course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drinkor wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear?What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists?What are we missing? What—  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How does the character of Sergeant Andy McCloud develop in THE PLAGUE?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the connection between Corporal Bettiejean and Sergeant Andy in THE PLAGUE? [SEP] <s>It was hours later when Bettijean came back into the office withanother stack of papers. Andy hung up his phone and reached for acigarette. At that moment the door banged open. Nerves raw, Bettijeancried out. Andy's cigarette tumbled from his trembling fingers.     Sergeant, the chicken colonel barked, parading into the office.     Andy swore under his breath and eyed the two young officers whotrailed after the colonel. Emotionally exhausted, he had to clamp hisjaw against a huge laugh that struggled up in his throat. For just aninstant there, the colonel had reminded him of a movie version ofGeneral Rommel strutting up and down before his tanks. But it wasn't aswagger stick the colonel had tucked under his arm. It was a foldednewspaper. Opening it, the colonel flung it down on Andy's desk.     RED PLAGUE SWEEPS NATION, the scare headline screamed. Andy's firstglance caught such phrases as alleged Russian plot and germwarfare and authorities hopelessly baffled.     Snatching the paper, Andy balled it and hurled it from him. That'llhelp a lot, he growled hoarsely.     Well, then, Sergeant. The colonel tried to relax his square face,but tension rode every weathered wrinkle and fear glinted behind thepale gray eyes. So you finally recognize the gravity of thesituation.     Andy's head snapped up, heated words searing towards his lips.Bettijean stepped quickly around the desk and laid a steady hand onhis shoulder.     Colonel, she said levelly, you should know better than that.     A shocked young captain exploded, Corporal. Maybe you'd better reportto—     All right, Andy said sharply.     For a long moment he stared at his clenched fists. Then he exhaledslowly and, to the colonel, flatly and without apology, he said,You'll have to excuse the people in this office if they overlook someof the G.I. niceties. We've been without sleep for two days, we'resurviving on sandwiches and coffee, and we're fighting a war here thatmakes every other one look like a Sunday School picnic. He feltBettijean's hand tighten reassuringly on his shoulder and he gave hera tired smile. Then he hunched forward and picked up a report. So saywhat you came here to say and let us get back to work.     Sergeant, the captain said, as if reading from a manual,insubordination cannot be tolerated, even under emergency conditions.Your conduct here will be noted and—     Oh, good heavens! Bettijean cried, her fingers biting into Andy'sshoulder. Do you have to come in here trying to throw your weightaround when this man—     That's enough, the colonel snapped. I had hoped that you two wouldco-operate, but.... He let the sentence trail off as he swelled up abit with his own importance. I have turned Washington upside down toget these two officers from the surgeon general's office. Sergeant.Corporal. You are relieved of your duties as of this moment. You willreport to my office at once for suitable disciplinary action.     Bettijean sucked in a strained breath and her hand flew to her mouth.But you can't—     Let's go, Andy said, pushing up from his chair. Ignoring the brass,he turned to her and brushed his lips across hers. Let them sweat awhile. Let 'em have the whole stinking business. Whatever they do tous, at least we can get some sleep.     But you can't quit now, Bettijean protested. These brass hats don'tknow from—     Corporal! the colonel roared.  <doc-sep>    THE PLAGUE         By TEDDY KELLER         Suppose a strictly one hundred per cent American plagueshowed up.... One that attacked only people within thepolitical borders of the United States!         Illustrated by Schoenherr      Sergeant Major Andrew McCloud ignored the jangling telephones and theexcited jabber of a room full of brass, and lit a cigarette. Somebodyhad to keep his head in this mess. Everybody was about to flip.     Like the telephone. Two days ago Corporal Bettijean Baker had beenanswering the rare call on the single line—in that friendly, huskyvoice that gave even generals pause—by saying, Good morning. Officeof the Civil Health and Germ Warfare Protection Co-ordinator. Nowthere was a switchboard out in the hall with a web of lines running toa dozen girls at a half dozen desks wedged into the outer office. Andnow the harried girls answered with a hasty, Germ War Protection.     All the brass hats in Washington had suddenly discovered this officedeep in the recesses of the Pentagon. And none of them could quitecomprehend what had happened. The situation might have been funny, orat least pathetic, if it hadn't been so desperate. Even so, AndyMcCloud's nerves and patience had frayed thin.     I told you, general, he snapped to the flustered brigadier, ColonelPatterson was retired ten days ago. I don't know what happened. Maybethis replacement sawbones got strangled in red tape. Anyhow, thebrand-new lieutenant hasn't showed up here. As far as I know, I'm incharge.     But this is incredible, a two-star general wailed. A mysteriousepidemic is sweeping the country, possibly an insidious germ attacktimed to precede an all-out invasion, and a noncom is sitting on topof the whole powder keg.     Andy's big hands clenched into fists and he had to wait a momentbefore he could speak safely. Doggone the freckles and the unruly mopof hair that give him such a boyish look. May I remind you, general,he said, that I've been entombed here for two years. My staff and Iknow what to do. If you'll give us some co-operation and a priority,we'll try to figure this thing out.     But good heavens, a chicken colonel moaned, this is all soirregular. A noncom! He said it like a dirty word.     Irregular, hell, the brigadier snorted, the message getting through.There're ways. Gentlemen, I suggest we clear out of here and let thesergeant get to work. He took a step toward the door, and the otherofficers, protesting and complaining, moved along after him. As theydrifted out, he turned and said, We'll clear your office for toppriority. Then dead serious, he added, Son, a whole nation couldpanic at any moment. You've got to come through.     Andy didn't waste time standing. He merely nodded to the general,snubbed out his cigarette, and buzzed the intercom. Bettijean, willyou bring me all the latest reports, please? Then he peeled out ofhis be-ribboned blouse and rolled up his sleeves. He allowed himselfone moment to enjoy the sight of the slim, black-headed corporal whoentered his office.  <doc-sep>And from the door, an icy voice said, Yes, colonel?     The colonel and his captains wheeled, stared and saluted. Oh,general, the colonel said. I was just—     I know, the brigadier said, stepping into the room. I've beenlistening to you. And I thought I suggested that everybody leave thesergeant and his staff alone.     But, general, I—     The general showed the colonel his back and motioned Andy into hischair. He glanced to Bettijean and a smile warmed his wedge face.Corporal, were you speaking just then as a woman or as a soldier?     Crimson erupted into Bettijean's face and her tight laugh said manythings. She shrugged. Both I guess.     The general waved her to a chair and, oblivious of the colonel, pulledup a chair for himself. The last trace of humor drained from his faceas he leaned elbows on the desk. Andy, this is even worse than we hadfeared.     Andy fumbled for a cigarette and Bettijean passed him a match. Acaptain opened his mouth to speak, but the colonel shushed him.     I've just come from Intelligence, the general said. We haven't hada report—nothing from our agents, from the Diplomatic Corps, from thecivilian newspapermen—not a word from any Iron Curtain country for aday and half. Everybody's frantic. The last item we had—it was acoded message the Reds'd tried to censor—was an indication ofsomething big in the works.     A day and half ago, Andy mused. Just about the time we knew we hadan epidemic. And about the time they knew it.     It could be just propaganda, Bettijean said hopefully, proving thatthey could cripple us from within.     The general nodded. Or it could be the softening up for an all-outeffort. Every American base in the world is alerted and everyserviceman is being issued live ammunition. If we're wrong, we'vestill got an epidemic and panic that could touch it off. If we'reright ... well, we've got to know. What can you do?     Andy dropped his haggard face into his hands. His voice came throughmuffled. I can sit here and cry. For an eternity he sat there,futility piling on helplessness, aware of Bettijean's hand on his arm.He heard the colonel try to speak and sensed the general's movementthat silenced him.     Suddenly he sat upright and slapped a palm down on the desk. We'llfind your answers, sir. All we ask is co-operation.     The general gave both Andy and Bettijean a long, sober look, thenlaunched himself from the chair. Pivoting, he said, Colonel, you andyour captains will be stationed by that switchboard out there. For theduration of this emergency, you will take orders only from thesergeant and the corporal here.     But, general, the colonel wailed, a noncom? I'm assigned—     The general snorted. Insubordination cannot be tolerated—unless youfind a two-star general to outrank me. Now, as I said before, let'sget out of here and let these people work.  <doc-sep>He burned off some rubber finding a slot in the park-lot. He strodeunder a sign reading      Public Youth Center No. 947     and walked casuallyto the reception desk, where a thin man with sergeant's stripes and apansy haircut looked out of a pile of paperwork.     Where you think you're going, my pretty lad?     Wayne grinned down. Higher I hope than a typewriter jockey.     Well, the sergeant said. How tough we are this evening. You have apass, killer?     Wayne Seton. Draft call.     Oh. The sergeant checked his name off a roster and nodded. He wroteon a slip of paper, handed the pass to Wayne. Go to the Armory andcheck out whatever your lusting little heart desires. Then report toCaptain Jack, room 307.     Thanks, sarge dear, Wayne said and took the elevator up to the Armory.     A tired fat corporal with a naked head blinked up at tall Wayne.Finally he said, So make up your mind, bud. Think you're the only kidbreaking out tonight?     Hold your teeth, pop, Wayne said, coolly and slowly lighting acigarette. I've decided.     The corporal's little eyes studied Wayne with malicious amusement.Take it from a vet, bud. Sooner you go the better. It's a big city andyou're starting late. You can get a cat, not a mouse, and some babesare clever hellcats in a dark alley.     You must be a genius, Wayne said. A corporal with no hair and stilla counterboy. I'm impressed. I'm all ears, Dad.     The corporal sighed wearily. You can get that balloon headventilated, bud, and good.     Wayne's mouth twitched. He leaned across the counter toward theshelves and racks of weapons. I'll remember that crack when I getmy commission. He blew smoke in the corporal's face. Bring me aSmith and Wesson .38, shoulder holster with spring-clip. And throw ina Skelly switchblade for kicks—the six-inch disguised job with thedouble springs.     The corporal waddled back with the revolver and the switchbladedisguised in a leather comb case. He checked them on a receipt ledger,while Wayne examined the weapons, broke open the revolver, twirled thecylinder and pushed cartridges into the waiting chamber. He slippedthe knife from the comb case, flicked open the blade and stared at itsgleam in the buttery light as his mouth went dry and the refractedincandescence of it trickled on his brain like melted ice, exciting andscary.     He removed his leather jacket. He slung the holster under his leftarmpit and tested the spring clip release several times, feeling theway the serrated butt dropped into his wet palm. He put his jacketback on and the switchblade case in his pocket. He walked toward theelevator and didn't look back as the corporal said, Good luck, tiger.     Captain Jack moved massively. The big stone-walled office, alive withstuffed lion and tiger and gunracks, seemed to grow smaller. CaptainJack crossed black-booted legs and whacked a cane at the floor. It hada head shaped like a grinning bear.     Wayne felt the assured smile die on his face. Something seemed toshrink him. If he didn't watch himself he'd begin feeling like a peaamong bowling balls.     Contemptuously amused little eyes glittered at Wayne from a shaggyhead. Shoulders hunched like stuffed sea-bags.     Wayne Seton, said Captain Jack as if he were discussing somethingin a bug collection. Well, well, you're really fired up aren't you?Really going out to eat 'em. Right, punk?     Yes, sir, Wayne said. He ran wet hands down the sides of his chinos.His legs seemed sheathed in lead as he bit inwardly at shrinking fearthe way a dog snaps at a wound. You big overblown son, he thought, I'llshow you but good who is a punk. They made a guy wait and sweat untilhe screamed. They kept a guy on the fire until desire leaped in him,ran and billowed and roared until his brain was filled with it. Butthat wasn't enough. If this muscle-bound creep was such a big boy,what was he doing holding down a desk?     Well, this is it, punk. You go the distance or start a butterflycollection.     The cane darted up. A blade snicked from the end and stopped an inchfrom Wayne's nose. He jerked up a shaky hand involuntarily and clampeda knuckle-ridged gag to his gasping mouth.     Captain Jack chuckled. All right, superboy. He handed Wayne hispasscard. Curfew's off, punk, for 6 hours. You got 6 hours to makeout.     Yes, sir.     Your beast is primed and waiting at the Four Aces Club on the WestSide. Know where that is, punk?     No, sir, but I'll find it fast.     Sure you will, punk, smiled Captain Jack. She'll be wearing yellowslacks and a red shirt. Black hair, a cute trick. She's with a heftypsycho who eats punks for breakfast. He's butchered five people.They're both on top of the Undesirable list, Seton. They got to go andthey're your key to the stars.     Yes, sir, Wayne said.     So run along and make out, punk, grinned Captain Jack.  <doc-sep>It was Bettijean who squeezed into the office and broke the brittlesilence. Andy, for heaven's sake, what is it? Then she moved aroundthe desk to stand behind him as he faced the officers.     Have you got something? the brigadier asked. Some girl outside wasbabbling about writers and doctors, and dentists and college students,and little secretaries and big secretaries. Have you established atrend?     Andy glanced at the lab report and his smile was as relieved as it wasweary. Our problem, he said, was in figuring out what a writer doesthat a doctor doesn't—why girls from small offices were sick—and whysenators and postal workers weren't—why college students caught thebug and people in a Tennessee community didn't.     The lab report isn't complete. They haven't had time to isolate thepoison and prescribe medication. But—he held up a four-centstamp—here's the villain, gentlemen.     The big brass stood stunned and shocked. Mouths flapped open and eyesbugged at Andy, at the stamp.     Bettijean said, Sure. College kids and engaged girls and new parentsand especially writers and artists and poets—they'd all lick lots ofstamps. Professional men have secretaries. Big offices havepostage-meter machines. And government offices have free franking.And—she threw her arms around the sergeant's neck—Andy, you'rewonderful.     The old American ingenuity, the colonel said, reaching for Andy'sphone. I knew we could lick it. Now all we have to do—     At ease, colonel, the brigadier said sharply. He waited until thecolonel had retreated, then addressed Andy. It's your show. What doyou suggest?     Get somebody—maybe even the President—on all radio and TV networks.Explain frankly about the four-centers and warn against licking anystamps. Then—     He broke off as his phone rang. Answering, he listened for a moment,then hung up and said, But before the big announcement, get somebodychecking on the security clearances at whatever plant it is where theyprint stamps. This's a big deal. Somebody may've been planted yearsago for this operation. It shouldn't be too hard.     But there's no evidence it was a plot yet. Could be pureaccident—some chemical in the stickum spoiled. Do they keep thestickum in barrels? Find out who had access. And ... oh, the phonecall. That was the lab. The antidote's simple and the cure should bequick. They can phone or broadcast the medical information to doctors.The man on the phone said they could start emptying hospitals in sixhours. And maybe we should release some propaganda. United Stateswhips mystery virus, or something like that. And we could send theKremlin a stamp collection and.... Aw, you take it, sir. I'm pooped.  <doc-sep>Bettijean crossed briskly to his desk. She gave him a motherly smileas she put down a thick sheaf of papers. You look beat, she said.Brass give you much trouble?     Not much. We're top priority now. He ran fingers through the thick,brown hair and massaged his scalp, trying to generate stimulation tohis wary and confused brain. What's new?     I've gone though some of these, she said. Tried to save you alittle time.     Thanks. Sit down.     She pulled up a chair and thumbed through the papers. So far, nofatalities. That's why there's no panic yet, I guess. But it'sspreading like ... well, like a plague. Fear flickered deep in herdark eyes.     Any water reports? Andy asked.     Wichita O.K., Indianapolis O.K., Tulsa O.K., Buffalo O.K.,—and abunch more. No indication there. Except—she fished out a one-pagereport—some little town in Tennessee. Yesterday there was a campaignfor everybody to write their congressman about some deal and todaythey were to vote on a new water system. Hardly anybody showed up atthe polls. They've all got it.     Andy shrugged. You can drink water, but don't vote for it. Oh, that'sa big help. He rummaged through the clutter on his desk and came upwith a crude chart. Any trends yet?     It's hitting everybody, Bettijean said helplessly. Not many kids sofar, thank heavens. But housewives, businessmen, office workers,teachers, preachers—rich, poor—from Florida to Alaska. Just when youcalled me in, one of the girls thought she had a trend. The isolatedmountain areas of the West and South. But reports are toofragmentary.     What is it? he cried suddenly, banging the desk. People deathlyill, but nobody dying. And doctors can't identify the poison untilthey have a fatality for an autopsy. People stricken in every part ofthe country, but the water systems are pure. How does it spread?     In food?     How? There must be hundreds of canneries and dairies and packingplants over the country. How could they all goof at the sametime—even if it was sabotage?     On the wind?     But who could accurately predict every wind over the entirecountry—even Alaska and Hawaii—without hitting Canada or Mexico? Andwhy wouldn't everybody get it in a given area?     Bettijean's smooth brow furrowed and she reached across the desk togrip his icy, sweating hands. Andy, do ... do you think it's ...well, an enemy?     I don't know, he said. I just don't know.     For a long moment he sat there, trying to draw strength from her,punishing his brain for the glimmer of an idea. Finally, shaking hishead, he pushed back into his chair and reached for the sheaf ofpapers.     We've got to find a clue—a trend—an inkling of something. Henodded toward the outer office. Stop all in-coming calls. Get thosegirls on lines to hospitals in every city and town in the country.Have them contact individual doctors in rural areas. Then line upanother relief crew, and get somebody carting in more coffee andsandwiches. And on those calls, be sure we learn the sex, age, andoccupation of the victims. You and I'll start with Washington.     Bettijean snapped to her feet, grinned her encouragement and strodefrom the room. Andy could hear her crisp instructions to the girls onthe phones. Sucking air through his teeth, he reached for his phoneand directory.     He dialed until every finger of his right hand was sore. He spoke toworried doctors and frantic hospital administrators and hystericalnurses. His firm, fine penmanship deteriorated to a barely legiblescrawl as writer's cramp knotted his hand and arm. His voice burneddown to a rasping whisper. But columns climbed up his rough chart andbroken lines pointed vaguely to trends.  <doc-sep>In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk,then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed.     Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back toBettijean, Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab.     It was the girl who had been so nervous in his office earlier. Now shelay in a pathetic little heap between her desk and chair, whimpering,shivering, eyes wide with horror. The other girls clustered at thehall door, plainly ready to stampede.     It's not contagious, Andy growled. Find some blankets or coats tocover her. And get a glass of water.     The other girls, glad for the excuse, dashed away. Andy scooped up thefallen girl and put her down gently on the close-jammed desks. He useda chair cushion for a pillow. By then the other girls were back with ablanket and the glass of water. He covered the girl, gave her a sip ofwater and heard somebody murmur, Poor Janis.     Now, Andy said brightly, how's that, Janis?     She mustered a smile, and breathed, Better. I ... I was so scared.Fever and dizzy ... symptoms like the epidemic.     Now you know there's nothing to be afraid of, Andy said, feelingsuddenly and ridiculously like a pill roller with a practiced bedsidemanner. You know you may feel pretty miserable, but nobody's conkedout with this stuff yet.     Janis breathed out and her taut body relaxed.     Don't hurry, Andy said, but I want you to tell me everything thatyou did—everything you ate or drank—in the last ... oh, twelvehours. He felt a pressure behind him and swiveled his head to seeBettijean standing there. He tried to smile.     What time is it? Janis asked weakly.     Andy glanced to a wall clock, then gave it a double take.     One of the girls said, It's three o'clock in the morning. She edgednearer Andy, obviously eager to replace Janis as the center ofattention. Andy ignored her.     I ... I've been here since ... golly, yesterday morning at nine,Janis said. I came to work as usual and....     Slowly, haltingly, she recited the routine of a routine work day, thentold about the quick snack that sufficed for supper and about stayingon her phone and typewriter for another five hours. It was abouteleven when the relief crew came in.     What did you do then? Andy asked.     I ... I took a break and.... Her ivory skin reddened, the colorspreading into the roots of her fluffy curls, and she turned her faceaway from Andy. And I had a sandwich and some coffee and got a littlenap in the ladies' lounge and ... and that's all.     And that's not all, Andy prompted. What else?     Nothing, Janis said too quickly.     Andy shook his head. Tell it all and maybe it'll help.     But ... but....     Was it something against regulations?     I ... I don't know. I think....     I'll vouch for your job in this office.     Well.... She seemed on the verge of tears and her pleading glancesought out Andy, then Bettijean, then her co-workers. Finally,resigned, she said, I ... I wrote a letter to my mother.     Andy swallowed against his groan of disappointment. And you told herabout what we were doing here.     Janis nodded, and tears welled into her wide eyes.     Did you mail it?     Y ... yes.     You didn't use a government envelope to save a stamp?     Oh, no. I always carry a few stamps with me. She choked down a sob.Did I do wrong?     No, I don't think so, Andy said, patting her shoulder. There'scertainly nothing secret about this epidemic. Now you just take iteasy and—. Oh, here's a doctor now.     The doctor, a white-headed Air Force major, bustled into the room. Alab technician in a white smock was close behind. Andy could onlyshrug and indicate the girl.     Turning away, lighting a cigarette, he tried to focus on the tangle ofthoughts that spun through his head. Doctors, writers, societymatrons, office workers—Aspen, Taos and college towns—thousands ofpeople sick—but none in that valley in Tennessee—and few governmentworkers—just one girl in his office—and she was sicker and morefrightened about a letter—and....     Hey, wait! Andy yelled.     Everyone in the room froze as Andy spun around, dashed to Bettijean'sdesk and yanked out the wide, top drawer. He pawed through it,straightened, then leaped across to the desk Janis had used. Hesnatched open drawer after drawer. In a bottom one he found her purse.Ripping it open, he dumped the contents on the desk and clawed throughthe pile until he found what he wanted. Handing it to the labtechnician, he said, Get me a report. Fast.     The technician darted out.     Andy wheeled to Bettijean. Get the brass in here. And call thegeneral first. To the doctor, he said, Give that girl the best ofeverything.     Then he ducked back to his own office and to the pile of reports. Hewas still poring over them when the general arrived. Half a dozenother brass hats, none of whom had been to bed, were close behind. Thelab technician arrived a minute later. He shook his head as he handedhis hastily scribbled report to Andy.  <doc-sep>The brass exited wordlessly. Bettijean sighed noisily. Andy found hiscigarette dead and lit another. He fancied a tiny lever in his brainand he shifted gears to direct his thinking back into the properchannel. Abruptly his fatigue began to lift. He picked up the new pileof reports Bettijean had brought in.     She move around the desk and sat, noting the phone book he had used,studying the names he had crossed off. Did you learn anything? sheasked.     Andy coughed, trying to clear his raw throat. It's crazy, he said.From the Senate and House on down, I haven't found a singlegovernment worker sick.     I found a few, she said. Over in a Virginia hospital.     But I did find, Andy said, flipping through pages of his ownscrawl, a society matron and her social secretary, a whole flock ofoffice workers—business, not government—and new parents and newlyengaged girls and.... He shrugged.     Did you notice anything significant about those office workers?     Andy nodded. I was going to ask you the same, since I was justguessing. I hadn't had time to check it out.     Well, I checked some. Practically none of my victims came from bigoffices, either business or industry. They were all out of one andtwo-girl offices or small businesses.     That was my guess. And do you know that I didn't find a doctor,dentist or attorney?     Nor a single postal worker.     Andy tried to smile. One thing we do know. It's not a communicablething. Thank heaven for—     He broke off as a cute blonde entered and put stacks of reports beforeboth Andy and Bettijean. The girl hesitated, fidgeting, fingers to herteeth. Then, without speaking, she hurried out.     Andy stared at the top sheet and groaned. This may be something. Halfthe adult population of Aspen, Colorado, is down.     What? Bettijean frowned over the report in her hands. It's the samething—only not quite as severe—in Taos and Santa Fe, New Mexico.     Writers?     Mostly. Some artists, too, and musicians. And poets are among thehard hit.     This is insane, Andy muttered. Doctors and dentists arefine—writers and poets are sick. Make sense out of that.     Bettijean held up a paper and managed a confused smile. Here's acountry doctor in Tennessee. He doesn't even know what it's all about.Nobody's sick in his valley.     Somebody in our outer office is organized, Andy said, pulling at hiscigarette. Here're reports from a dozen military installations alllumped together.     What does it show?     Black-out. By order of somebody higher up—no medical releases. Mustmean they've got it. He scratched the growing stubble on his chin.If this were a fifth column setup, wouldn't the armed forces be thefirst hit?     Sure, Bettijean brightened, then sobered. Maybe not. The brasscould keep it secret if an epidemic hit an army camp. And they couldslap a control condition on any military area. But the panic will comefrom the general public.     Here's another batch, Andy said. Small college towns undertwenty-five thousand population. All hard hit.     Well, it's not split intellectually. Small colleges and small officesand writers get it. Doctors don't and dentists don't. But we can'ttell who's got it on the military bases.     And it's not geographical. Look, remember those two reports fromTennessee? That place where they voted on water bonds or something,everybody had it. But the country doctor in another section hadn'teven heard of it. Andy could only shake his head.     Bettijean heaved herself up from the chair and trudged back to theouter office. She returned momentarily with a tray of food. Putting apaper cup of coffee and a sandwich in front of Andy, she sat down andnibbled at her snack like an exhausted chipmunk.     Andy banged a fist at his desk again. Coffee splashed over the rim ofhis cup onto the clutter of papers. It's here, he said angrily.It's here somewhere, but we can't find it.     The answer?     Of course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drinkor wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear?What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists?What are we missing? What—  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the connection between Corporal Bettiejean and Sergeant Andy in THE PLAGUE?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How does Janis's character impact the overall plot of THE PLAGUE? [SEP] <s>Being a beggar, Skkiru discovered, did give him certain small,momentary advantages over those who had been alloted higher ranks.For one thing, it was quite in character for him to tread curiouslyupon the strangers' heels all the way to the temple—a ramshackleaffair, but then it had been run up in only three days—where theofficial reception was to be held. The principal difficulty was that,because of his equipment, he had a little trouble keeping himself fromovershooting the strangers. And though Bbulas might frown menacingly athim—and not only for his forwardness—that was in character on bothsides, too.     Nonetheless, Skkiru could not reconcile himself to his beggarhood, nomatter how much he tried to comfort himself by thinking at least hewasn't a pariah like the unfortunate metal-workers who had to standsegregated from the rest by a chain of their own devising—a poeticthought, that was, but well in keeping with his beggarhood. Beggarswere often poets, he believed, and poets almost always beggars. Sincemetal-working was the chief industry of Snaddra, this had provided theplanet automatically with a large lowest caste. Bbulas had taken theeasy way out.     Skkiru swallowed the last of the chocolate and regarded the highpriest with a simple-minded mendicant's grin. However, there werevolcanic passions within him that surged up from his toes when, as thewind and rain whipped through his scanty coverings, he remembered thesnug underskirts Bbulas was wearing beneath his warm gown. They weremetal, but they were solid. All the garments visible or potentiallyvisible were of woven metal, because, although there was cloth on theplanet, it was not politic for the Earthmen to discover how heavily theSnaddrath depended upon imports.     As the Earthmen reached the temple, Larhgan now appeared to join Bbulasat the head of the long flight of stairs that led to it. AlthoughSkkiru had seen her in her priestly apparel before, it had not madethe emotional impression upon him then that it did now, when, standingthere, clad in beauty, dignity and warm clothes, she bade the newcomerswelcome in several thousand words not too well chosen for her byBbulas—who fancied himself a speech-writer as well as a speech-maker,for there was no end to the man's conceit.     The difference between her magnificent garments and his own miserablerags had their full impact upon Skkiru at this moment. He saw the gulfthat had been dug between them and, for the first time in his shortlife, he felt the tormenting pangs of caste distinction. She looked solovely and so remote.     ... and so you are most welcome to Snaddra, men of Earth, she wassaying in her melodious voice. Our resources may be small but ourhearts are large, and what little we have, we offer with humility andwith love. We hope that you will enjoy as long and as happy a stay hereas you did on Nemeth....     Cyril looked at Raoul, who, however, seemed too absorbed incontemplating Larhgan's apparently universal charms to pay muchattention to the expression on his companion's face.     ... and that you will carry our affection back to all the peoples ofthe Galaxy.  <doc-sep>Danny appeared at that moment. His face was dripping. You all right,Mr. Graham? he asked. I don't know what's going on around here, butever since I came on this afternoon, things are going crazy. Bartley!he shouted—he could succeed as a hog-caller. Bring those dames overhere!     Three women in a confused wrangle, with their half-open umbrellasintertwined, were brought across the street, which meant climbing overfenders. Bartley, a fine young patrolman, seemed self-conscious; theladies seemed not to be.     All right, now, Mrs. Mac-Philip! one of them said. Leave go of myumbrella and we'll say no more about it!     And so now it's Missus Mac-Philip, is it? said her adversary.     The third, a younger one with her back turned to us, her umbrella alsocaught in the tangle, pulled at it in a tentative way, at which theother two glared at her. She turned her head away and tried to let go,but the handle was caught in her glove. She looked up and I saw it wasMolly. My nurse-wife.     Oh, Alec! she said, and managed to detach herself. Are you allright? Was      I     all right!     Molly! What are you doing here?     I was so worried, and when I saw all this, I didn't know what tothink. She pointed to the stalled cars. Are you really all right?     Of course I'm all right. But why....     The Oyster Bay operator said someone kept dialing and dialing Mother'snumber and there wasn't anyone on the line, so then she had it tracedand it came from our phone here. I kept calling up, but I only got abusy signal. Oh, dear, are you      sure     you're all right?     I put my arm around her and glanced at McGill. He had an inward look.Then I caught Danny's eye. It had a thoughtful, almost suspicious castto it.     Trouble does seem to follow you, Mr. Graham, was all he said.     When we got upstairs, I turned to McGill. Explain to Molly, I said.And incidentally to me. I'm not properly briefed yet.     He did so, and when he got to the summing up, I had the feeling she wasa jump ahead of him.     In other words, you think it's something organic?     Well, McGill said, I'm trying to think of anything else it might be.I'm not doing so well, he confessed.     But so far as I can see, Molly answered, it's mere probability, andwithout any over-all pattern.     Not quite. It has a center. Alec is the center.  <doc-sep>June looked in stunned silence at the stranger leaning against thetree. Thirty-six light years—thirty-six times six trillion milesof monotonous space travel—to be told that the planet was alreadysettled! We didn't know there was a colony here, she said. It is noton the map.     We were afraid of that, the tall bronze man answered soberly. Wehave been here three generations and yet no traders have come.     Max shifted the kit strap on his shoulder and offered a hand. My nameis Max Stark, M.D. This is June Walton, M.D., Hal Barton, M.D., andGeorge Barton, Hal's brother, also M.D.     Patrick Mead is the name, smiled the man, shaking hands casually.Just a hunter and bridge carpenter myself. Never met any medicosbefore.     The grip was effortless but even through her airproofed glove Junecould feel that the fingers that touched hers were as hard as paddedsteel.     What—what is the population of Minos? she asked.     He looked down at her curiously for a moment before answering. Onlyone hundred and fifty. He smiled. Don't worry, this isn't a cityplanet yet. There's room for a few more people. He shook hands withthe Bartons quickly. That is—you are people, aren't you? he askedstartlingly.     Why not? said Max with a poise that June admired.     Well, you are all so—so— Patrick Mead's eyes roamed across thefaces of the group. So varied.     They could find no meaning in that, and stood puzzled.     I mean, Patrick Mead said into the silence, all these—interestingdifferent hair colors and face shapes and so forth— He made a vaguewave with one hand as if he had run out of words or was anxious not toinsult them.     Joke? Max asked, bewildered.     June laid a hand on his arm. No harm meant, she said to him over theintercom. We're just as much of a shock to him as he is to us.     She addressed a question to the tall colonist on outside sound. Whatshould a person look like, Mr. Mead?     He indicated her with a smile. Like you.     June stepped closer and stood looking up at him, considering her owndescription. She was tall and tanned, like him; had a few freckles,like him; and wavy red hair, like his. She ignored the brightlyhumorous blue eyes.     In other words, she said, everyone on the planet looks like you andme?     Patrick Mead took another look at their four faces and began to grin.Like me, I guess. But I hadn't thought of it before. I did not thinkthat people could have different colored hair or that noses could fitso many ways onto faces. I was judging by my own appearance, but Isuppose any fool can walk on his hands and say the world is upsidedown! He laughed and sobered. But then why wear spacesuits? The airis breathable.     For safety, June told him. We can't take any chances on plague.     Pat Mead was wearing nothing but a loin cloth and his weapons, and thewind ruffled his hair. He looked comfortable, and they longed to takeoff the stuffy spacesuits and feel the wind against their own skins.Minos was like home, like Earth.... But they were strangers.     Plague, Pat Mead said thoughtfully. We had one here. It came twoyears after the colony arrived and killed everyone except the Meadfamilies. They were immune. I guess we look alike because we're allrelated, and that's why I grew up thinking that it is the only waypeople can look.       Plague.     What was the disease? Hal Barton asked.     Pretty gruesome, according to my father. They called it the meltingsickness. The doctors died too soon to find out what it was or what todo about it.     You should have trained for more doctors, or sent to civilization forsome. A trace of impatience was in George Barton's voice.     Pat Mead explained patiently, Our ship, with the power plant and allthe books we needed, went off into the sky to avoid the contagion,and never came back. The crew must have died. Long years of hardshipwere indicated by that statement, a colony with electric power goneand machinery stilled, with key technicians dead and no way to replacethem. June realized then the full meaning of the primitive sheath knifeand bow.     Any recurrence of melting sickness? asked Hal Barton.     No.     Any other diseases?     Not a one.     Max was eyeing the bronze red-headed figure with something approachingawe. Do you think all the Meads look like that? he said to June onthe intercom. I wouldn't mind being a Mead myself!  <doc-sep>    THE PLAGUE         By TEDDY KELLER         Suppose a strictly one hundred per cent American plagueshowed up.... One that attacked only people within thepolitical borders of the United States!         Illustrated by Schoenherr      Sergeant Major Andrew McCloud ignored the jangling telephones and theexcited jabber of a room full of brass, and lit a cigarette. Somebodyhad to keep his head in this mess. Everybody was about to flip.     Like the telephone. Two days ago Corporal Bettijean Baker had beenanswering the rare call on the single line—in that friendly, huskyvoice that gave even generals pause—by saying, Good morning. Officeof the Civil Health and Germ Warfare Protection Co-ordinator. Nowthere was a switchboard out in the hall with a web of lines running toa dozen girls at a half dozen desks wedged into the outer office. Andnow the harried girls answered with a hasty, Germ War Protection.     All the brass hats in Washington had suddenly discovered this officedeep in the recesses of the Pentagon. And none of them could quitecomprehend what had happened. The situation might have been funny, orat least pathetic, if it hadn't been so desperate. Even so, AndyMcCloud's nerves and patience had frayed thin.     I told you, general, he snapped to the flustered brigadier, ColonelPatterson was retired ten days ago. I don't know what happened. Maybethis replacement sawbones got strangled in red tape. Anyhow, thebrand-new lieutenant hasn't showed up here. As far as I know, I'm incharge.     But this is incredible, a two-star general wailed. A mysteriousepidemic is sweeping the country, possibly an insidious germ attacktimed to precede an all-out invasion, and a noncom is sitting on topof the whole powder keg.     Andy's big hands clenched into fists and he had to wait a momentbefore he could speak safely. Doggone the freckles and the unruly mopof hair that give him such a boyish look. May I remind you, general,he said, that I've been entombed here for two years. My staff and Iknow what to do. If you'll give us some co-operation and a priority,we'll try to figure this thing out.     But good heavens, a chicken colonel moaned, this is all soirregular. A noncom! He said it like a dirty word.     Irregular, hell, the brigadier snorted, the message getting through.There're ways. Gentlemen, I suggest we clear out of here and let thesergeant get to work. He took a step toward the door, and the otherofficers, protesting and complaining, moved along after him. As theydrifted out, he turned and said, We'll clear your office for toppriority. Then dead serious, he added, Son, a whole nation couldpanic at any moment. You've got to come through.     Andy didn't waste time standing. He merely nodded to the general,snubbed out his cigarette, and buzzed the intercom. Bettijean, willyou bring me all the latest reports, please? Then he peeled out ofhis be-ribboned blouse and rolled up his sleeves. He allowed himselfone moment to enjoy the sight of the slim, black-headed corporal whoentered his office.  <doc-sep>   The Gravity Business     By JAMES E. GUNN     Illustrated by ASHMAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy January 1956.Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyrighton this publication was renewed.]        This little alien beggar could dictate his own terms, but how couldhe—and how could anyone find out what those terms might be?        The flivver descended vertically toward the green planet circling theold, orange sun.     It was a spaceship, but not the kind men had once dreamed about. Theflivver was shaped like a crude bullet, blunt at one end of a fatcylinder and tapering abruptly to a point at the other. It had beenslapped together out of sheet metal and insulation board, and it sold,fully equipped, for $15,730. It didn't behave like a spaceship, either.     As it hurtled down, its speed increased with dramatic swiftness. Then,at the last instant before impact, it stopped. Just like that.     A moment later, it thumped a last few inches into the ankle-deep grassand knee-high white flowers of the meadow. It was a shock of a jar thatmade the sheet-metal walls boom like thunder machines. The flivverrocked unsteadily on its flat stern before it decided to stay upright.     Then all was quiet—outside.     Inside the big, central cabin, Grampa waved his pircuit irately in theair. Now look what you made me do! Just when I had the blamed thingpractically whipped, too!  <doc-sep>She had stopped, trembling and gasping. Roddie clung just below herand looked dazedly around. There was nothing in sight but fog, piercedby the rapier of rusted wire supporting them. Neither end of it was insight.     Upward lay success, if death were not nearer on the cable. No soldierhad ever come even this far, for soldiers, as he'd told Ida, never leftthe city, were not built to do so. But      he     was here; with luck, hecould capitalize on the differences that had plagued him so long.     Go on! he ordered hoarsely. Move!     There was neither answer nor result. He broke off an end of loosenedwire and jabbed her rear. Ida gasped and crawled on.     Up and up they went, chilled, wet, bleeding, pain-racked, exhausted.Never had Roddie felt so thoroughly the defects of his peculiarnon-mechanical construction.     Without realizing it, he acquired a new purpose, a duty as compellingas that of any soldier or fire-watcher. He had to keep that tremblingbody of his alive, mount to the tall rust tower overhead.     He climbed and he made Ida climb, till, at nightmare's end, the fogthinned and they came into clear, windswept air and clawed up the lasthundred feet to sanctuary.     They were completely spent. Without word or thought they crept withinthe tower, huddled together for warmth on its dank steel deck, andslept for several hours.  <doc-sep>   The Snare     By RICHARD R. SMITH     Illustrated by WEISS     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy January 1956.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright     on this publication was renewed.]        It's easy to find a solution when there is one—the trick is to do itif there is none!        I glanced at the path we had made across the      Mare Serenitatis     . TheLatin translated as the Sea of Serenity. It was well named because,as far as the eye could see in every direction, there was a smoothlayer of pumice that resembled the surface of a calm sea. Scatteredacross the quiet sea of virgin Moon dust were occasional islandsof rock that jutted abruptly toward the infinity of stars above.Considering everything, our surroundings conveyed a sense of serenitylike none I had ever felt.     Our bounding path across the level expanse was clearly marked. Becauseof the light gravity, we had leaped high into the air with each stepand every time we struck the ground, the impact had raised a cloud ofdustlike pumice. Now the clouds of dust were slowly settling in thelight gravity.     Above us, the stars were cold, motionless and crystal-clear.Indifferently, they sprayed a faint light on our surroundings ... adim glow that was hardly sufficient for normal vision and was too weakto be reflected toward Earth.     We turned our head-lamps on the strange object before us. Five beamsof light illuminated the smooth shape that protruded from the Moon'ssurface.     The incongruity was so awesome that for several minutes, we remainedmotionless and quiet. Miller broke the silence with his quaveringvoice, Strange someone didn't notice it before.  <doc-sep>The youth hesitated. It is not a secret project, he muttered. Whyshould it be secret?     You tell me.     The youth worked his jaws and rocked his head from side to side in theFusty gesture of uncertainty. There is nothing to conceal, he said.We merely construct a passenger liner.     Then you don't mind if I look over the drawings, said Retief. Whoknows? Maybe some day I'll want to reserve a suite for the trip out.     The youth turned and disappeared. Retief grinned at the oldster. Wentfor his big brother, I guess, he said. I have a feeling I won't getto study these in peace here. Mind if I copy them?     Willingly, light-footed one, said the old Fustian. And mine is theshame for the discourtesy of youth.     Retief took out a tiny camera, flipped a copying lens in place, leafedthrough the drawings, clicking the shutter.     A plague on these youths, said the oldster, who grow more virulentday by day.     Why don't you elders clamp down?     Agile are they and we are slow of foot. And this unrest is new.Unknown in my youth was such insolence.     The police—     Bah! the ancient rumbled. None have we worthy of the name, nor havewe needed ought ere now.     What's behind it?     They have found leaders. The spiv, Slock, is one. And I fear they plotmischief. He pointed to the window. They come, and a Soft One withthem.     Retief pocketed the camera, glanced out the window. A pale-featuredGroaci with an ornately decorated crest stood with the youths, who eyedthe hut, then started toward it.     That's the military attache of the Groaci Embassy, Retief said. Iwonder what he and the boys are cooking up together?     Naught that augurs well for the dignity of Fust, the oldster rumbled.Flee, agile one, while I engage their attentions.     I was just leaving, Retief said. Which way out?     The rear door, the Fustian gestured with a stubby member. Rest well,stranger on these shores. He moved to the entrance.     Same to you, pop, said Retief. And thanks.     He eased through the narrow back entrance, waited until voices wereraised at the front of the shed, then strolled off toward the gate.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How does Janis's character impact the overall plot of THE PLAGUE?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How does the ""chicken colonel"" fare in THE PLAGUE? [SEP] <s>It was hours later when Bettijean came back into the office withanother stack of papers. Andy hung up his phone and reached for acigarette. At that moment the door banged open. Nerves raw, Bettijeancried out. Andy's cigarette tumbled from his trembling fingers.     Sergeant, the chicken colonel barked, parading into the office.     Andy swore under his breath and eyed the two young officers whotrailed after the colonel. Emotionally exhausted, he had to clamp hisjaw against a huge laugh that struggled up in his throat. For just aninstant there, the colonel had reminded him of a movie version ofGeneral Rommel strutting up and down before his tanks. But it wasn't aswagger stick the colonel had tucked under his arm. It was a foldednewspaper. Opening it, the colonel flung it down on Andy's desk.     RED PLAGUE SWEEPS NATION, the scare headline screamed. Andy's firstglance caught such phrases as alleged Russian plot and germwarfare and authorities hopelessly baffled.     Snatching the paper, Andy balled it and hurled it from him. That'llhelp a lot, he growled hoarsely.     Well, then, Sergeant. The colonel tried to relax his square face,but tension rode every weathered wrinkle and fear glinted behind thepale gray eyes. So you finally recognize the gravity of thesituation.     Andy's head snapped up, heated words searing towards his lips.Bettijean stepped quickly around the desk and laid a steady hand onhis shoulder.     Colonel, she said levelly, you should know better than that.     A shocked young captain exploded, Corporal. Maybe you'd better reportto—     All right, Andy said sharply.     For a long moment he stared at his clenched fists. Then he exhaledslowly and, to the colonel, flatly and without apology, he said,You'll have to excuse the people in this office if they overlook someof the G.I. niceties. We've been without sleep for two days, we'resurviving on sandwiches and coffee, and we're fighting a war here thatmakes every other one look like a Sunday School picnic. He feltBettijean's hand tighten reassuringly on his shoulder and he gave hera tired smile. Then he hunched forward and picked up a report. So saywhat you came here to say and let us get back to work.     Sergeant, the captain said, as if reading from a manual,insubordination cannot be tolerated, even under emergency conditions.Your conduct here will be noted and—     Oh, good heavens! Bettijean cried, her fingers biting into Andy'sshoulder. Do you have to come in here trying to throw your weightaround when this man—     That's enough, the colonel snapped. I had hoped that you two wouldco-operate, but.... He let the sentence trail off as he swelled up abit with his own importance. I have turned Washington upside down toget these two officers from the surgeon general's office. Sergeant.Corporal. You are relieved of your duties as of this moment. You willreport to my office at once for suitable disciplinary action.     Bettijean sucked in a strained breath and her hand flew to her mouth.But you can't—     Let's go, Andy said, pushing up from his chair. Ignoring the brass,he turned to her and brushed his lips across hers. Let them sweat awhile. Let 'em have the whole stinking business. Whatever they do tous, at least we can get some sleep.     But you can't quit now, Bettijean protested. These brass hats don'tknow from—     Corporal! the colonel roared.  <doc-sep>    THE PLAGUE         By TEDDY KELLER         Suppose a strictly one hundred per cent American plagueshowed up.... One that attacked only people within thepolitical borders of the United States!         Illustrated by Schoenherr      Sergeant Major Andrew McCloud ignored the jangling telephones and theexcited jabber of a room full of brass, and lit a cigarette. Somebodyhad to keep his head in this mess. Everybody was about to flip.     Like the telephone. Two days ago Corporal Bettijean Baker had beenanswering the rare call on the single line—in that friendly, huskyvoice that gave even generals pause—by saying, Good morning. Officeof the Civil Health and Germ Warfare Protection Co-ordinator. Nowthere was a switchboard out in the hall with a web of lines running toa dozen girls at a half dozen desks wedged into the outer office. Andnow the harried girls answered with a hasty, Germ War Protection.     All the brass hats in Washington had suddenly discovered this officedeep in the recesses of the Pentagon. And none of them could quitecomprehend what had happened. The situation might have been funny, orat least pathetic, if it hadn't been so desperate. Even so, AndyMcCloud's nerves and patience had frayed thin.     I told you, general, he snapped to the flustered brigadier, ColonelPatterson was retired ten days ago. I don't know what happened. Maybethis replacement sawbones got strangled in red tape. Anyhow, thebrand-new lieutenant hasn't showed up here. As far as I know, I'm incharge.     But this is incredible, a two-star general wailed. A mysteriousepidemic is sweeping the country, possibly an insidious germ attacktimed to precede an all-out invasion, and a noncom is sitting on topof the whole powder keg.     Andy's big hands clenched into fists and he had to wait a momentbefore he could speak safely. Doggone the freckles and the unruly mopof hair that give him such a boyish look. May I remind you, general,he said, that I've been entombed here for two years. My staff and Iknow what to do. If you'll give us some co-operation and a priority,we'll try to figure this thing out.     But good heavens, a chicken colonel moaned, this is all soirregular. A noncom! He said it like a dirty word.     Irregular, hell, the brigadier snorted, the message getting through.There're ways. Gentlemen, I suggest we clear out of here and let thesergeant get to work. He took a step toward the door, and the otherofficers, protesting and complaining, moved along after him. As theydrifted out, he turned and said, We'll clear your office for toppriority. Then dead serious, he added, Son, a whole nation couldpanic at any moment. You've got to come through.     Andy didn't waste time standing. He merely nodded to the general,snubbed out his cigarette, and buzzed the intercom. Bettijean, willyou bring me all the latest reports, please? Then he peeled out ofhis be-ribboned blouse and rolled up his sleeves. He allowed himselfone moment to enjoy the sight of the slim, black-headed corporal whoentered his office.  <doc-sep>And from the door, an icy voice said, Yes, colonel?     The colonel and his captains wheeled, stared and saluted. Oh,general, the colonel said. I was just—     I know, the brigadier said, stepping into the room. I've beenlistening to you. And I thought I suggested that everybody leave thesergeant and his staff alone.     But, general, I—     The general showed the colonel his back and motioned Andy into hischair. He glanced to Bettijean and a smile warmed his wedge face.Corporal, were you speaking just then as a woman or as a soldier?     Crimson erupted into Bettijean's face and her tight laugh said manythings. She shrugged. Both I guess.     The general waved her to a chair and, oblivious of the colonel, pulledup a chair for himself. The last trace of humor drained from his faceas he leaned elbows on the desk. Andy, this is even worse than we hadfeared.     Andy fumbled for a cigarette and Bettijean passed him a match. Acaptain opened his mouth to speak, but the colonel shushed him.     I've just come from Intelligence, the general said. We haven't hada report—nothing from our agents, from the Diplomatic Corps, from thecivilian newspapermen—not a word from any Iron Curtain country for aday and half. Everybody's frantic. The last item we had—it was acoded message the Reds'd tried to censor—was an indication ofsomething big in the works.     A day and half ago, Andy mused. Just about the time we knew we hadan epidemic. And about the time they knew it.     It could be just propaganda, Bettijean said hopefully, proving thatthey could cripple us from within.     The general nodded. Or it could be the softening up for an all-outeffort. Every American base in the world is alerted and everyserviceman is being issued live ammunition. If we're wrong, we'vestill got an epidemic and panic that could touch it off. If we'reright ... well, we've got to know. What can you do?     Andy dropped his haggard face into his hands. His voice came throughmuffled. I can sit here and cry. For an eternity he sat there,futility piling on helplessness, aware of Bettijean's hand on his arm.He heard the colonel try to speak and sensed the general's movementthat silenced him.     Suddenly he sat upright and slapped a palm down on the desk. We'llfind your answers, sir. All we ask is co-operation.     The general gave both Andy and Bettijean a long, sober look, thenlaunched himself from the chair. Pivoting, he said, Colonel, you andyour captains will be stationed by that switchboard out there. For theduration of this emergency, you will take orders only from thesergeant and the corporal here.     But, general, the colonel wailed, a noncom? I'm assigned—     The general snorted. Insubordination cannot be tolerated—unless youfind a two-star general to outrank me. Now, as I said before, let'sget out of here and let these people work.  <doc-sep>The colonel drew himself to attention, fists trembling at his sides.I'll see you hung for treason! Don't you know what Elliot Macklinmeans to us? Do you want those filthy Luxemburgians to reach Plutobefore we do? Macklin's formula is essential to the FTL engine. Youmight just as well have blown up Washington, D.C. Better! The capitalis replaceable. But the chances of an Elliot Macklin are very nearlyonce in a human race.     Just a moment, Mitchell interrupted, we can cure Macklin.     You      can     ? Carson said. For a moment Mitchell thought the man wasgoing to clasp his hands and sink to his knees.     Certainly. We have learned to stabilize the virus colonies. We haveantitoxin to combat the virus. We had always thought of it as abeneficial parasite, but we can wipe it out if necessary.     Good! Carson clasped his hands and gave at least slightly at theknees.     Just you wait a second now, boys, Elliot Macklin said. He was leaningin the doorway, holding his pipe. I've been listening to what you'vebeen saying and I don't like it.     What do you mean you don't like it? Carson demanded. He added, Sir?     I figure you mean to put me back like I used to be.     Yes, doctor, Mitchell said eagerly, just as you used to be.           With     my headaches, like before?     Mitchell coughed into his fist for an instant, to give him time toframe an answer. Unfortunately, yes. Apparently if your mind functionsproperly once again you will have the headaches again. Our research isa dismal failure.     I wouldn't go that far, Ferris remarked cheerfully.     Mitchell was about to ask his associate what he meant when he sawMacklin slowly shaking his head.     No, sir! the mathematician said. I shall not go back to my originalstate. I can remember what it was like. Always worrying, worrying,worrying.     You mean wondering, Mitchell said.     Macklin nodded. Troubled, anyway. Disturbed by every little thing.How high was up, which infinity was bigger than what infinity—say,what was an infinity anyway? All that sort of schoolboy things. It'speaceful this way. My head doesn't hurt. I've got a good-looking wifeand all the money I need. I've got it made. Why worry?     Colonel Carson opened his mouth, then closed it.     That's right, Colonel. There's no use in arguing with him, Mitchellsaid.     It's not his decision to make, the colonel said. He's an idiot now.     No, Colonel. As you said, he's a moron. He seems an idiot compared tohis former level of intelligence but he's legally responsible. Thereare millions of morons running around loose in the United States. Theycan get married, own property, vote, even hold office. Many of themdo. You can't force him into being cured.... At least, I don't      think     you can.     No, I can't. This is hardly a totalitarian state. The colonel lookedmomentarily glum that it wasn't.     Mitchell looked back at Macklin. Where did his wife get to, Colonel?I don't think that even previously he made too many personal decisionsfor himself. Perhaps she could influence him.     Maybe, the colonel said. Let's find her.  <doc-sep>Theodor recognized the shrunken wrinkle-seamed face. It was ColonelFortescue, a military antique long retired from the Peace Patrol andreputed to have seen actual fighting in the Last Age of Madness. Now,for some reason, the face sported a knowing smile.     Theodor shrugged. Just then the TV big news light blinked blue andthe girl switched on audio. The Colonel winked at Theodor.     ... confirming the disappearance of Jupiter's moons. But two otherutterly fantastic reports have just been received. First, LunarObservatory One says that it is visually tracking fourteen small bodieswhich it believes may be the lost moons of Jupiter. They are movingoutward from the Solar System at an incredible velocity and are alreadybeyond the orbit of Saturn!     The Colonel said, Ah!     Second, Palomar reports a large number of dark bodies approaching theSolar System at an equally incredible velocity. They are at about twicethe distance of Pluto, but closing in fast! We will be on the air withfurther details as soon as possible.     The Colonel said, Ah-ha!     Theodor stared at him. The old man's self-satisfied poise was almostamusing.     Are you a Kometevskyite? Theodor asked him.     The Colonel laughed. Of course not, my boy. Those poor people arefumbling in the dark. Don't you see what's happened?     Frankly, no.     The Colonel leaned toward Theodor and whispered gruffly, The DivinePlan. God is a military strategist, naturally.     Then he lifted the scotch-and-soda in his clawlike hand and took asatisfying swallow.     I knew it all along, of course, he went on musingly, but this lastnews makes it as plain as a rocket blast, at least to anyone who knowsmilitary strategy. Look here, my boy, suppose you were commanding afleet and got wind of the enemy's approach—what would you do? Why,you'd send your scouts and destroyers fanning out toward them. Behindthat screen you'd mass your heavy ships. Then—     You don't mean to imply— Theodor interrupted.     The girl behind the bar looked at them both cryptically.     Of course I do! the Colonel cut in sharply. It's a war between theforces of good and evil. The bright suns and planets are on one side,the dark on the other. The moons are the destroyers, Jupiter andSaturn are the big battleships, while we're on a heavy cruiser, I'mproud to say. We'll probably go into action soon. Be a corking fight,what? And all by divine strategy!     He chuckled and took another big drink. Theodor looked at him sourly.The girl behind the bar polished a glass and said nothing.  <doc-sep>Macklin's traditional ranch house was small but attractive inaqua-tinted aluminum.     Under Mitchell's thumb the bell chimbed      dum-de-de-dum-dum-dum     .     As they waited Mitchell glanced at Ferris. He seemed completelyundisturbed, perhaps slightly curious.     The door unlatched and swung back.     Mrs. Macklin, Mitchell said quickly, I'm sure we can help if thereis anything wrong with your husband. This is Dr. Ferris. I am Dr.Mitchell.     You had certainly      better     help him, gentlemen. She stood out of thedoorway for them to pass.     Mrs. Macklin was an attractive brunette in her late thirties. She worean expensive yellow dress. And she had a sharp-cornered jawline.     The Army officer came out into the hall to meet them.     You are the gentlemen who gave Dr. Macklin the unauthorizedinjection, he said.     It wasn't a question.     I don't like that 'unauthorized', Ferris snapped.     The colonel—Mitchell spotted the eagles on his green tunic—lifteda heavy eyebrow. No? Are you medical doctors? Are you authorized totreat illnesses?     We weren't treating an illness, Mitchell said. We were discovering amethod of treatment. What concern is it of yours?     The colonel smiled thinly. Dr. Macklin is my concern. And everythingthat happens to him. The Army doesn't like what you have done to him.     Mitchell wondered desperately just what they had done to the man.     Can we see him? Mitchell asked.     Why not? You can't do much worse than murder him now. That might bejust as well. We have laws to cover that.     The colonel led them into the comfortable, over-feminine living room.Macklin sat in an easy chair draped in embroidery, smoking. Mitchellsuddenly realized Macklin used a pipe as a form of masculine protest tohis home surroundings.     On the coffee table in front of Macklin were some odd-shaped buildingblocks such as were used in nursery schools. A second uniformedman—another colonel but with the snake-entwined staff of the medicalcorps in his insignia—was kneeling at the table on the marble-effectcarpet.     The Army physician stood up and brushed his knees, undusted from thescrupulously clean rug.     What's wrong with him, Sidney? the other officer asked the doctor.     Not a thing, Sidney said. He's the healthiest, happiest, mostwell-adjusted man I've ever examined, Carson.     But— Colonel Carson protested.     Oh, he's changed all right, the Army doctor answered. He's not thesame man as he used to be.     How is he different? Mitchell demanded.     The medic examined Mitchell and Ferris critically before answering. Heused to be a mathematical genius.     And now? Mitchell said impatiently.     Now he is a moron, the medic said.      III     Mitchell tried to stop Colonel Sidney as he went past, but the doctormumbled he had a report to make.     Mitchell and Ferris stared at Colonel Carson and Macklin and at eachother.     What did he mean, Macklin is an idiot? Mitchell asked.     Not an idiot, Colonel Carson corrected primly. Dr. Macklin is amoron. He's legally responsible, but he's extremely stupid.     I'm not so dumb, Macklin said defensively.     I beg your pardon, sir, Carson said. I didn't intend any offense.But according to all the standard intelligence tests we have given you,your clinical intelligence quotient is that of a moron.     That's just on book learning, Macklin said. There's a lot you learnin life that you don't get out of books, son.     I'm confident that's true, sir, Colonel Carson said. He turned to thetwo biologists. Perhaps we had better speak outside.     But— Mitchell said, impatient to examine Macklin for himself. Verywell. Let's step into the hall.     Ferris followed them docilely.     What have you done to him? the colonel asked straightforwardly.     We merely cured him of his headaches, Mitchell said.     How?     Mitchell did his best to explain the F-M Virus.     You mean, the Army officer said levelly you have infected him withsome kind of a disease to rot his brain?     No, no! Could I talk to the other man, the doctor? Maybe I can makehim understand.     All I want to know is why Elliot Macklin has been made as simple as ifhe had been kicked in the head by a mule, Colonel Carson said.     I think I can explain, Ferris interrupted.     You can? Mitchell said.     Ferris nodded. We made a slight miscalculation. It appears as if thevirus colony overcontrols the supply of posterior pituitary extract inthe cerebrum. It isn't more than necessary to stop headaches. But thatnecessary amount of control to stop pain is too much to allow the braincells to function properly.     Why won't they function? Carson roared.     They don't get enough food—blood, oxygen, hemoglobin, Ferrisexplained. The cerebral vessels don't contract enough to pump theblood through the brain as fast and as hard as is needed. The braincells remain sluggish, dormant. Perhaps decaying.     The colonel yelled.     Mitchell groaned. He was abruptly sure Ferris was correct.  <doc-sep>They found Mrs. Macklin in the dining room, her face at the picturewindow an attractive silhouette. She turned as the men approached.     Mrs. Macklin, the colonel began, these gentlemen believe they cancure your husband of his present condition.     Really? she said. Did you speak to Elliot about that?     Y-yes, Colonel Carson said, but he's not himself. He refused thetreatment. He wants to remain in his state of lower intelligence.     She nodded. If those are his wishes, I can't go against them.     But Mrs. Macklin! Mitchell protested. You will have to get a courtorder overruling your husband's wishes.     She smoothed an eyebrow with the third finger of her right hand. Thatwas my original thought. But I've redecided.     Redecided! Carson burst out almost hysterically.     Yes. I can't go against Elliot's wishes. It would be monstrous to puthim back where he would suffer the hell of those headaches once again,where he never had a moment's peace from worry and pressure. He's happynow. Like a child, but happy.     Mrs. Macklin, the Army man said levelly, if you don't help usrestore your husband's mind we will be forced to get a court orderdeclaring him incompetent.     But he is not! Legally, I mean, the woman stormed.     Maybe not. It's a borderline case. But I think any court would give usthe edge where restoring the mind of Elliot Macklin was concerned. Oncehe's certified incompetent, authorities can rule whether Mitchell andFerris' antitoxin treatment is the best method of restoring Dr. Macklinto sanity.     I doubt very much if the court would rule in that manner, she said.     The colonel looked smug. Why not?     Because, Colonel, the matter of my husband's health, his very life, isinvolved.     There is some degree of risk in shock treatments, too. But—     It isn't quite the same, Colonel. Elliot Macklin has a history ofvascular spasm, a mild pseudostroke some years ago. Now you want togive those cerebral arteries back the ability to constrict. Toparalyze. To kill. No court would give you that authority.     I suppose there's some chance of that. But without the treatmentthere is      no     chance of your husband regaining his right senses, Mrs.Macklin, Mitchell interjected.     Her mouth grew petulant. I don't care. I would rather have a livehusband than a dead genius. I can take care of him this way, make himcomfortable....     Carson opened his mouth and closed his fist, then relaxed. Mitchell ledhim back into the hall.     I'm no psychiatrist, Mitchell said, but I think she wants Macklinstupid. Prefers it that way. She's always dominated his personal life,and now she can dominate him completely.     What is she? A monster? the Army officer muttered.     No, Mitchell said. She's an intelligent woman unconsciously jealousof her husband's genius.     Maybe, Carson said. I don't know. I don't know what the hell to tellthe Pentagon. I think I'll go out and get drunk.     I'll go with you, Ferris said.     Mitchell glanced sharply at the little biologist.     Carson squinted. Any particular reason, doctor?     To celebrate, Ferris said.     The colonel shrugged. That's as good a reason as any.     On the street, Mitchell watched the two men go off together inbewilderment.      IV     Macklin was playing jacks.     He didn't have a head on his shoulders and he was squatting on a greatcurving surface that was Spacetime, and his jacks were Earth and Plutoand the rest of the planets. And for a ball he was using a head. Nothis head. Mitchell's. Both heads were initialed M so it was all thesame.       Mitchell forced himself to awaken, with some initial difficulty.     He lay there, blinking the sleep out of his eyes, listening to hisheart race, and then convulsively snatched the telephone receiver fromthe nightstand. He stabbed out a number with a vicious index finger.     After a time there came a dull click and a sleepy answer.     Hello? Elliot Macklin said.     Mitchell smiled to himself. He was in luck; Macklin had answered thephone instead of his wife.     Can you speak freely, doctor? Mitchell asked.     Of course, the mathematician said. I can talk fine.     I mean, are you alone?     Oh, you want to know if my wife is around. No, she's asleep. That Armydoctor, Colonel Sidney, he gave her a sedative. I wouldn't let him giveme anything, though.     Good boy, the biologist said. Listen, doctor—Elliot—El, old son.I'm not against you like all the others. I don't want to make you goback to all that worrying and thinking and headaches. You believe me,don't you?     There was a slight hesitation.     Sure, Macklin said, if you say so. Why shouldn't I believe you?     But there was a hesitation there, El. You worried for just a second ifI could have some reason for not telling you the truth.     I suppose so, Macklin said humbly.     You've found yourself worrying—thinking—about a lot of otherproblems since we left you, haven't you? Maybe not the same kind ofscientific problem. But more personal ones, ones you didn't used tohave time to think about.     If you say so.     Now, you know it's so. But how would you like to get rid of thoseworries just as you got rid of the others? Mitchell asked.     I guess I'd like that, the mathematician replied.     Then come on over to my laboratory. You remember where it's at, don'tyou?     No, I—yes, I guess I do. But how do I know you won't try to put meback where I was instead of helping me more?     I couldn't do that against your wishes. That would be illegal!     If you say so. But I don't guess I can come anyway. The Army iswatching me pretty close.     That's alright, Mitchell said quickly. You can bring along ColonelCarson.     But he won't like you fixing me up more.     But he can't stop me! Not if you want me to do it. Now listen to me—Iwant you to come right on over here, El.     If you say so, Macklin said uncertainly.  <doc-sep>Something was missing here. Natives. There were no natives rushing outto greet us. No cries of Cigarettes? Cigarettes? I caught up with Joe.     What's the story? I whispered.     He shrugged knowingly and continued walking.     And then I saw the ship, nose pointing into space, catching the rays ofthe sun like a great silver bullet.     What...? I started.     It's all right, Joe said, smiling.     The ship looked vaguely familiar. I noticed the crest of Space II nearthe nose, and a lot of things became clear then. I also saw Walshstanding near one of the huts, a stun gun in his hand.     Hello, Major, he called, almost cheerfully. The gun didn't lookcheerful, though. It was pointed at my head.     Fancy meeting you here, Colonel, I said, trying to match hisjoviality. Somehow it didn't quite come off.     Joe was walking beside me, waving at the colonel, beaming all over withhappiness.     I see you found your man, Walsh said.     I turned rapidly. Joe nodded and kept grinning, a grin that told me hewas getting a big kick out of all this. Like a kid playing a game.     I faced Walsh again. Okay, what's it all about, pal?     Colonel, Walsh corrected me. You mustn't forget to say Colonel,      Major     . He emphasized my rank, and he said it with a sort of ruthlessfinality.     I waited. I could see he was just busting to tell me how clever he'dbeen. Besides, there wasn't much I could do but wait. Not with Walshpointing the stun gun at my middle.     We've come a long way since the Academy, haven't we, Major?     If you mean in miles, I said, looking around at the plants, we surehave.     Walsh grinned a little. Always the wit, he said drily. And then thesmile faded from his lips and his eyes took on a hard lustre. I'mgoing to kill you, you know. He said it as if he were saying, I thinkit'll rain tomorrow.     Joe almost clapped his hands together with glee. He was really enjoyingthis. Another of those funny Terran games.     You gave me a powerful handicap to overcome, Walsh said. I suppose Ishould thank you, really.     You're welcome, I said.     It wasn't easy living down the disgrace you caused me.     It was your own damn fault, I said. You knew what you were doingwhen you decided to cork off.     Beside me, Joe chuckled a little, enjoying the game immensely.     You didn't have to report me, Walsh said.     No? Maybe I should have forgotten all about it? Maybe I should havenudged you and served you orange juice? So you could do it againsometime and maybe blow up the whole damn Academy!     Walsh was silent for a long time. When he spoke his voice was barelyaudible. The heat was oppressive, as if it were concentrated on thislittle spot in the jungle, focusing all its penetration on a small,unimportant drama.     I could hear Joe breathing beside me.     I'm on my way out, Walsh rasped. Finished, do you understand?     Good, I said. And I meant it.     This Mars thing. A terrible fix. Terrible.     Beside me, a slight frown crossed Joe's face. Apparently he couldn'tunderstand the seriousness of our voices. What had happened to thegame, the fun?     You brought the Mars business on yourself, I told Walsh. There wasnever any trouble before you took command.     The natives, he practically shouted. They ... they....     Joe caught his breath sharply, and I wondered what Walsh was going tosay about the natives. Apparently he'd realized that Joe was a native.Or maybe Joe's knife had something to do with it.     What about the natives? I asked.     Nothing, Walsh said. Nothing. He was silent for a while.     A man of my calibre, he said then, his face grim. Dealing withsavages. He caught himself again and threw a hasty glance at Joe.The perplexed frown had grown heavier on Joe's face. He looked at thecolonel in puzzlement.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How does the ""chicken colonel"" fare in THE PLAGUE?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in A BOTTLE OF Old Wine? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>    A grim tale of a future in which everyone is desperate to escapereality, and a hero who wants to have his wine and drink it, too.       A BOTTLE OF       Old Wine       By Richard O. Lewis     Illustrated by KELLY FREAS  <doc-sep>Arapoulous puffed on his cigar, looked worriedly at Retief. Our winecrop is our big money crop, he said. We make enough to keep us going.But this year....     The crop isn't panning out?     Oh, the crop's fine. One of the best I can remember. Course, I'm onlytwenty-eight; I can't remember but two other harvests. The problem'snot the crop.     Have you lost your markets? That sounds like a matter for theCommercial—     Lost our markets? Mister, nobody that ever tasted our wines eversettled for anything else!     It sounds like I've been missing something, said Retief. I'll haveto try them some time.     Arapoulous put his bundle on the desk, pulled off the wrappings. Notime like the present, he said.     Retief looked at the two squat bottles, one green, one amber, bothdusty, with faded labels, and blackened corks secured by wire.     Drinking on duty is frowned on in the Corps, Mr. Arapoulous, he said.     This isn't      drinking     . It's just wine. Arapoulous pulled the wireretainer loose, thumbed the cork. It rose slowly, then popped in theair. Arapoulous caught it. Aromatic fumes wafted from the bottle.Besides, my feelings would be hurt if you didn't join me. He winked.     Retief took two thin-walled glasses from a table beside the desk. Cometo think of it, we also have to be careful about violating quaintnative customs.     Arapoulous filled the glasses. Retief picked one up, sniffed the deeprust-colored fluid, tasted it, then took a healthy swallow. He lookedat Arapoulous thoughtfully.     Hmmm. It tastes like salted pecans, with an undercurrent of crustedport.     Don't try to describe it, Mr. Retief, Arapoulous said. He took amouthful of wine, swished it around his teeth, swallowed. It's Bacchuswine, that's all. Nothing like it in the Galaxy. He pushed the secondbottle toward Retief. The custom back home is to alternate red wineand black.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>  Transcriber's Note:   This etext was produced from Analog March 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.    ILLUSTRATED     BY     KRENKEL        HIS MASTER'S VOICE     ANALOG SCIENCE FACT · SCIENCE FICTION       Spaceship McGuire had lots of knowledge—but no wisdom. He wassmart—but incredibly foolish. And, as a natural consequence, tended toask questions too profound for any philosopher—questions like Who areyou?     By RANDALL GARRETT      I'd been in Ravenhurst's office on the mountain-sized planetoid calledRaven's Rest only twice before. The third time was no better; ShalimarRavenhurst was one of the smartest operators in the Belt, but when itcame to personal relationships, he was utterly incompetent. He couldmake anyone dislike him without trying.     When I entered the office, he was  [3]  sitting behind his mahogany desk,his eyes focused on the operation he was going through with a wineglassand a decanter. He didn't look up at me as he said:     Sit down, Mr. Oak. Will you have some Madeira?     I decided I might as well observe the pleasantries. There was no pointin my getting nasty until he did. Thank you, Mr. Ravenhurst, I will.     He kept his eyes focused on his work: It isn't easy to pour wine on aplanetoid where the gee-pull is measured in fractions of a centimeterper second squared. It moves slowly, like ropy molasses, but you haveto be careful not to be fooled by that. The viscosity is just as lowas ever, and if you pour it from any great height, it will go scootingright out of the glass  [4]  again. The momentum it builds up is enough tomake it splash right out again in a slow-motion gush which gets it allover the place.     Besides which, even if it didn't splash, it would take it so long tofall a few inches that you'd die of thirst waiting for it.     Ravenhurst had evolved a technique from long years of practice.He tilted the glass and the bottle toward each other, their edgestouching, like you do when you're trying to pour beer without putting ahead on it. As soon as the wine wet the glass, the adhesive forces atwork would pull more wine into the wine glass. To get capillary actionon a low-gee asteroid, you don't need a capillary, by any means. Thenegative meniscus on the wine was something to see; the first timeyou see it, you get the eerie feeling that the glass is spinning andthrowing the wine up against the walls by centrifugal force.     I took the glass he offered me (Careful! Don't slosh!) and sipped atit. Using squirt tubes would have been a hell of a lot easier andneater, but Ravenhurst liked to do things his way.     He put the stopper back in the decanter, picked up his own glass andsipped appreciatively. Not until he put it back down on the desk againdid he raise his eyes and look at me for the first time since I'd comein.     Mr. Oak, you have caused me considerable trouble.     I thought we'd hashed all that out, Mr. Ravenhurst, I said, keepingmy voice level.     [5]     So had I. But it appears that there were more ramifications to youraction than we had at first supposed. His voice had the texture ofheavy linseed oil.     He waited, as if he expected me to make some reply to that. WhenI didn't, he sighed slightly and went on. I fear that you haveinadvertently sabotaged McGuire. You were commissioned to preventsabotage, Mr. Oak, and I'm afraid that you abrogated your contract.     I just continued to keep my voice calm. If you are trying to get backthe fee you gave me, we can always take it to court. I don't thinkyou'd win.     Mr. Oak, he said heavily, I am not a fool, regardless of what yourown impression may be. If I were trying to get back that fee, I wouldhardly offer to pay you another one.     I didn't think he was a fool. You don't get into the managerialbusiness and climb to the top and stay there unless you have brains.Ravenhurst was smart, all right; it was just that, when it came topersonal relationships, he wasn't very wise.     Then stop all this yak about an abrogated contract and get to thepoint, I told him.     I shall. I was merely trying to point out to you that it is throughyour own actions that I find myself in a very trying position, and thatyour sense of honor and ethics should induce you to rectify the damage.     My honor and ethics are in fine shape, I said, but my interpretationof the concepts might not be quite  [6]  the same as yours. Get to thepoint.     He took another sip of Madeira. The robotocists at Viking tellme that, in order to prevent any further ... ah ... sabotage byunauthorized persons, the MGYR-7 was constructed so that, afteractivation, the first man who addressed orders to it would thenceforthbe considered its ... ah ... master.     As I understand it, the problem of defining the term 'human being'unambiguously to a robot is still unsolved. The robotocists felt thatit would be much easier to define a single individual. That wouldprevent the issuing of conflicting orders to a robot, provided thesingle individual were careful in giving orders himself.     Now, it appears that      you     , Mr. Oak, were the first man to speak toMcGuire after he had been activated. Is that correct?     Is that question purely rhetorical, I asked him, putting on my bestexpression of innocent interest. Or are you losing your memory? I hadexplained all that to him two weeks before, when I'd brought McGuireand the girl here, so that Ravenhurst would have a chance to cover upwhat had really happened.  <doc-sep>  He let the  thought runaround through his head, savoringit with mental taste buds.He would not kill her tonight. No,nor the next night. He would wait,wait until he had sucked the lastmeasure of pleasure from thethought.     It was like having a bottle ofrare old wine on a shelf where itcould be viewed daily. It was likebeing able to pause again andagain before the bottle, hold it upto the light, and say to it, Someday, when my desire for you hasreached the ultimate, I shall unstopperyou quietly and sip youslowly to the last soul-satisfyingdrop. As long as the bottle remainedthere upon the shelf it wassymbolic of that pleasurable moment....     He snapped out of his reverieand realized he had been wastingprecious moments. There would betime enough tomorrow for gloating.Tonight, there were otherthings to do. Pleasurable things.He remembered the girl he hadmet the night before, and smiledsmugly. Perhaps she would beawaiting him even now. If not,there would be another one....     He settled himself deeper intothe chair, glanced once more at hiswife, then let his head lean comfortablyback against the chair'sheadrest. His hand upon his thighfelt the thin mesh that cloaked hisbody beneath his clothing like asheer stocking. His fingers wentagain to the tiny switch. Again hehesitated.     Herbert Hyrel knew no moreabout the telporter suit he worethan he did about the radio in thecorner, the TV set against the wall,or the personalized telovis his wifewas wearing. You pressed one ofthe buttons on the radio; musiccame out. You pressed a buttonand clicked a dial on the TV;music and pictures came out. Youpressed a button and made an adjustmenton the telovis; three-dimensional,emotion-colored picturesleaped into the room. Youpressed a tiny switch on the telportersuit; you were whisked away toa receiving set you had previouslyset up in secret.     He knew that the music and theimages of the performers on theTV and telovis were brought to hisroom by some form of electrical impulseor wave while the actual musiciansand performers remained inthe studio. He knew that when hepressed the switch on his thighsomething within him—his ectoplasm,higher self, the thing spiritsuse for materialization, whateverits real name—streamed out of himalong an invisible channel, leavinghis body behind in the chair in aconscious but dream-like state. Hisother self materialized in a smallcabin in a hidden nook between ahighway and a river where he hadinstalled the receiving set a monthago.     He thought once more of the girlwho might be waiting for him,smiled, and pressed the switch.   <doc-sep>Miss Furkle sniffed and disappeared from the screen. Retief left theoffice, descended forty-one stories, followed a corridor to the CorpsLibrary. In the stacks he thumbed through catalogues, pored overindices.     Can I help you? someone chirped. A tiny librarian stood at his elbow.     Thank you, ma'am, Retief said. I'm looking for information on amining rig. A Bolo model WV tractor.     You won't find it in the industrial section, the librarian said.Come along. Retief followed her along the stacks to a well-litsection lettered ARMAMENTS. She took a tape from the shelf, pluggedit into the viewer, flipped through and stopped at a squat armoredvehicle.     That's the model WV, she said. It's what is known as a continentalsiege unit. It carries four men, with a half-megaton/second firepower.     There must be an error somewhere, Retief said. The Bolo model I wantis a tractor. Model WV M-1—       Oh, the modification was the addition of a bulldozer blade fordemolition work. That must be what confused you.     Probably—among other things. Thank you.     Miss Furkle was waiting at the office. I have the information youwanted, she said. I've had it for over ten minutes. I was under theimpression you needed it urgently, and I went to great lengths—     Sure, Retief said. Shoot. How many tractors?     Five hundred.     Are you sure?     Miss Furkle's chins quivered. Well! If you feel I'm incompetent—     Just questioning the possibility of a mistake, Miss Furkle. Fivehundred tractors is a lot of equipment.     Was there anything further? Miss Furkle inquired frigidly.     I sincerely hope not, Retief said.      III     Leaning back in Magnan's padded chair with power swivel andhip-u-matic concontour, Retief leafed through a folder labelled CERP7-602-Ba; CROANIE (general). He paused at a page headed Industry.     Still reading, he opened the desk drawer, took out the two bottles ofBacchus wine and two glasses. He poured an inch of wine into each andsipped the black wine meditatively.     It would be a pity, he reflected, if anything should interfere with theproduction of such vintages....     Half an hour later he laid the folder aside, keyed the phone and putthrough a call to the Croanie Legation. He asked for the CommercialAttache.     Retief here, Corps HQ, he said airily. About the MEDDLE shipment,the tractors. I'm wondering if there's been a slip up. My records showwe're shipping five hundred units....     That's correct. Five hundred.     Retief waited.     Ah ... are you there, Retief?     I'm still here. And I'm still wondering about the five hundredtractors.     It's perfectly in order. I thought it was all settled. Mr. Whaffle—     One unit would require a good-sized plant to handle its output,Retief said. Now Croanie subsists on her fisheries. She has perhapshalf a dozen pint-sized processing plants. Maybe, in a bind, theycould handle the ore ten WV's could scrape up ... if Croanie had anyore. It doesn't. By the way, isn't a WV a poor choice as a miningoutfit? I should think—     See here, Retief! Why all this interest in a few surplus tractors?And in any event, what business is it of yours how we plan to use theequipment? That's an internal affair of my government. Mr. Whaffle—     I'm not Mr. Whaffle. What are you going to do with the other fourhundred and ninety tractors?     I understood the grant was to be with no strings attached!     I know it's bad manners to ask questions. It's an old diplomatictradition that any time you can get anybody to accept anything as agift, you've scored points in the game. But if Croanie has some schemecooking—  <doc-sep>I shrugged. It might be distracting.     Captain, take my word for it, argued Farley. Constant sonicfeedback inside a spacesuit will set you rocking against the grain.     Devise some regular system of interruptions, I suggested.     Then the pattern will drive you crazy. Maybe in a few months, withluck, I could plan some harmonic scale you could tolerate—     We don't have a few months, I said. How about music? There's aharmonic scale for you, and we can endure it, some of it.      Figaro     and      Asleep in the Cradle of the Deep     can compensate for high-pitchedoutside temperatures, and      Flight of the Bumble Bee     to block bassnotes.     Farley nodded. Might work. I can program the tapes from the library.     Good. There's one more thing—how are our stores of medicinal liquor?     Farley paled. Captain, are you implying that      I     should be runningshort on alcohol? Where do you get off suggesting a thing like that?     I'm getting off at the right stop, apparently, I sighed. Okay,Farley, no evasions. In plain figures, how much drinking alcohol do wehave left?     The quartermaster slumped a bit. Twenty-one liters unbroken. One moreabout half full.     Half full? How did that ever happen? I mean you had some      left     ? We'lltake this up later. I want you to run it through the synthesizer to getsome light wine....     Light wine? Farley looked in pain. Not whiskey, brandy, beer?     Light wine. Then ration it out to some of the men.     Ration it to the men!     That's an accurate interpretation of my orders.     But, sir, Farley protested, you don't give alcohol to the crew inthe middle of a mission. It's not done. What reason can you have?     To sharpen their taste and olfactory senses. We can turn up or blockout sound. We can use radar to extend our sight, but the Space Servicehasn't yet developed anything to make spacemen taste or smell better.     They are going to smell like a herd of winos, Farley said. I don'tlike to think how they would taste.     It's an entirely practical idea. Tea-tasters used to drinkalmond-and-barley water to sharpen their senses. I've observed thatwine helps you appreciate culinary art more. Considering the mixed-upsensory data under transphasia, wine may help us to see where we aregoing.     Yes, sir, Farley said obediently. I'll give spacemen a few quarts ofwine, telling them to use it carefully for scientific purposes only,and then they will be able to see where they are going. Yes, sir.     I turned to leave, then paused briefly. You can come along, Farley.I'm sure you want to see that we don't waste any of the stuff.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in A BOTTLE OF Old Wine?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the name of Herbert's spouse and what part does she play in the tale of A Bottle of Old Wine? [SEP] <s>    A grim tale of a future in which everyone is desperate to escapereality, and a hero who wants to have his wine and drink it, too.       A BOTTLE OF       Old Wine       By Richard O. Lewis     Illustrated by KELLY FREAS  <doc-sep>  He let the  thought runaround through his head, savoringit with mental taste buds.He would not kill her tonight. No,nor the next night. He would wait,wait until he had sucked the lastmeasure of pleasure from thethought.     It was like having a bottle ofrare old wine on a shelf where itcould be viewed daily. It was likebeing able to pause again andagain before the bottle, hold it upto the light, and say to it, Someday, when my desire for you hasreached the ultimate, I shall unstopperyou quietly and sip youslowly to the last soul-satisfyingdrop. As long as the bottle remainedthere upon the shelf it wassymbolic of that pleasurable moment....     He snapped out of his reverieand realized he had been wastingprecious moments. There would betime enough tomorrow for gloating.Tonight, there were otherthings to do. Pleasurable things.He remembered the girl he hadmet the night before, and smiledsmugly. Perhaps she would beawaiting him even now. If not,there would be another one....     He settled himself deeper intothe chair, glanced once more at hiswife, then let his head lean comfortablyback against the chair'sheadrest. His hand upon his thighfelt the thin mesh that cloaked hisbody beneath his clothing like asheer stocking. His fingers wentagain to the tiny switch. Again hehesitated.     Herbert Hyrel knew no moreabout the telporter suit he worethan he did about the radio in thecorner, the TV set against the wall,or the personalized telovis his wifewas wearing. You pressed one ofthe buttons on the radio; musiccame out. You pressed a buttonand clicked a dial on the TV;music and pictures came out. Youpressed a button and made an adjustmenton the telovis; three-dimensional,emotion-colored picturesleaped into the room. Youpressed a tiny switch on the telportersuit; you were whisked away toa receiving set you had previouslyset up in secret.     He knew that the music and theimages of the performers on theTV and telovis were brought to hisroom by some form of electrical impulseor wave while the actual musiciansand performers remained inthe studio. He knew that when hepressed the switch on his thighsomething within him—his ectoplasm,higher self, the thing spiritsuse for materialization, whateverits real name—streamed out of himalong an invisible channel, leavinghis body behind in the chair in aconscious but dream-like state. Hisother self materialized in a smallcabin in a hidden nook between ahighway and a river where he hadinstalled the receiving set a monthago.     He thought once more of the girlwho might be waiting for him,smiled, and pressed the switch.   <doc-sep>  The dank air  of the cabinwas chill to Herbert Hyrel'snaked flesh. He fumbled throughthe darkness for the clothing hekept there, found his shorts andtrousers, got hurriedly into them,then flicked on a pocket lighter andignited a stub of candle upon thetable. By the wavering light, he finisheddressing in the black satinclothing, the white shirt, the flowingnecktie and tam. He invoicedthe contents of his billfold. Notmuch. And his monthly pittancewas still two weeks away....     He had skimped for six monthsto salvage enough money from hisallowance to make a down paymenton the telporter suit. Sincethen, his expenses—monthly paymentsfor the suit, cabin rent, costlyliquor—had forced him to place hisnights of escape on strict ration. Hecould not go on this way, he realized.Not now. Not since he hadmet the girl. He had to have moremoney. Perhaps he could not affordthe luxury of leaving the winebottle longer upon the shelf....     Riverside Club, where Hyrel arrivedby bus and a hundred yardsof walking, was exclusive. It cateredto a clientele that had butthree things in common: money, adesire for utter self-abandonment,and a sales slip indicating ownershipof a telporter suit. The clubwas of necessity expensive, for self-telportationwas strictly illegal, andpolice protection came high.     Herbert Hyrel adjusted his white,silken mask carefully at the doorand shoved his sales slip through asmall aperture where it was thoroughlyscanned by unseen eyes. Abuzzer sounded an instant later, thelock on the door clicked, and Hyrelpushed through into the exhilaratingwarmth of music and laughter.     The main room was large. Hiddenlights along the walls sent slowbeams of red, blue, vermillion,green, yellow and pink trailingacross the domed ceiling in a heterogeneouspattern. The coloredbeams mingled, diffused, spread,were caught up by mirrors of varioustints which diffused and mingledthe lights once more until thewhole effect was an ever-changingpanorama of softly-melting shades.     The gay and bizarre costumes ofthe masked revelers on the dancefloor and at the tables, unearthly inthemselves, were made even moreso by the altering light. Musicflooded the room from unseensources. Laughter—hysterical,drunken, filled with utter abandonment—camefrom the dance floor,the tables, and the private boothsand rooms hidden cleverly withinthe walls.     Hyrel pushed himself to an unoccupiedtable, sat down and ordereda bottle of cheap whiskey. Hewould have preferred champagne,but his depleted finances forbadethe more discriminate taste.     When his order arrived, hepoured a glass tumbler half fulland consumed it eagerly while hiseyes scanned the room in search ofthe girl. He couldn't see her in thedim swirl of color. Had she arrived?Perhaps she was wearing adifferent costume than she had thenight before. If so, recognitionmight prove difficult.     He poured himself another drink,promising himself he would go insearch of her when the liquor beganto take effect.     A woman clad in the revealinggarb of a Persian dancer threw anarm about him from behind andkissed him on the cheek throughthe veil which covered the lowerpart of her face.     Hi, honey, she giggled into hisear. Havin' a time?     He reached for the white arm topull her to him, but she eluded hisgrasp and reeled away into thewaiting arms of a tall toreador.Hyrel gulped his whiskey andwatched her nestle into the arms ofher partner and begin with him asinuous, suggestive dance. Thewhiskey had begun its warming effect,and he laughed.     This was the land of the lotuseaters, the sanctuary of the escapists,the haven of all who wished tocast off their shell of inhibition andbecome the thing they dreamedthemselves to be. Here one couldbe among his own kind, an actorupon a gay stage, a gaudy butterflymetamorphosed from the slug,a knight of old.     The Persian dancing girl wasprobably the wife of a boorish oafwhose idea of romance was spendingan evening telling his wife howhe came to be a successful bankpresident. But she had found hermeans of escape. Perhaps she hadpleaded a sick headache and hadretired to her room. And there uponthe bed now reposed her shell ofreality while her inner self, theshadowy one, completely materialized,became an exotic thing fromthe East in this never-never land.     The man, the toreador, hadprobably closeted himself within hislibrary with a set of account booksand had left strict orders not to bedisturbed until he had finishedwith them.     Both would have terrific hangoversin the morning. But that, ofcourse, would be fully compensatedfor by the memories of the evening.     Hyrel chuckled. The situationstruck him as being funny: theshadowy self got drunk and had agood time, and the outer husk sufferedthe hangover in the morning.Strange. Strange how a device suchas the telporter suit could cause theshadow of each bodily cell to leavethe body, materialize, and becomea reality in its own right. Andyet ...   <doc-sep>Arapoulous puffed on his cigar, looked worriedly at Retief. Our winecrop is our big money crop, he said. We make enough to keep us going.But this year....     The crop isn't panning out?     Oh, the crop's fine. One of the best I can remember. Course, I'm onlytwenty-eight; I can't remember but two other harvests. The problem'snot the crop.     Have you lost your markets? That sounds like a matter for theCommercial—     Lost our markets? Mister, nobody that ever tasted our wines eversettled for anything else!     It sounds like I've been missing something, said Retief. I'll haveto try them some time.     Arapoulous put his bundle on the desk, pulled off the wrappings. Notime like the present, he said.     Retief looked at the two squat bottles, one green, one amber, bothdusty, with faded labels, and blackened corks secured by wire.     Drinking on duty is frowned on in the Corps, Mr. Arapoulous, he said.     This isn't      drinking     . It's just wine. Arapoulous pulled the wireretainer loose, thumbed the cork. It rose slowly, then popped in theair. Arapoulous caught it. Aromatic fumes wafted from the bottle.Besides, my feelings would be hurt if you didn't join me. He winked.     Retief took two thin-walled glasses from a table beside the desk. Cometo think of it, we also have to be careful about violating quaintnative customs.     Arapoulous filled the glasses. Retief picked one up, sniffed the deeprust-colored fluid, tasted it, then took a healthy swallow. He lookedat Arapoulous thoughtfully.     Hmmm. It tastes like salted pecans, with an undercurrent of crustedport.     Don't try to describe it, Mr. Retief, Arapoulous said. He took amouthful of wine, swished it around his teeth, swallowed. It's Bacchuswine, that's all. Nothing like it in the Galaxy. He pushed the secondbottle toward Retief. The custom back home is to alternate red wineand black.  <doc-sep>   The Girls From Fieu Dayol     By ROBERT F. YOUNG     They were lovely and quick     to learn—and their only     faults were little ones!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Up until the moment when he first looked into Hippolyte Adolphe Taine's      History of English Literature     , Herbert Quidley's penchant for oldbooks had netted him nothing in the way of romance and intrigue.Not that he was a stranger to either. Far from it. But hitherto thebackground for both had been bedrooms and bars, not libraries.     On page 21 of the Taine tome he happened upon a sheet of yellow copypaper folded in four. Unfolding it, he read:       asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkjCai: Sities towms copeis wotnid. Gind snoll doper nckli! Wilbe FieuDayol fot ig habe mot toseo knwo—te bijk weil en snoll doper—Klio,asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj       Since when, Quidley wondered, refolding the paper and putting it backin the book, had high-school typing students taken to reading Taine?Thoughtfully he replaced the book on the shelf and moved deeper intothe literature section.     He had just taken down Xenophon's      Anabasis     when he saw the girl walkin the door.     Let it be said forthwith that old books were not the only item onHerbert Quidley's penchant-list. He liked old wood, too, and oldpaintings, not to mention old wine and old whiskey. But most of all heliked young girls. He especially liked them when they looked the wayHelen of Troy must have looked when Paris took one gander at her andstarted building his ladder. This one was tall, with hyacinth hair andliquid blue eyes, and she had a Grecian symmetry of shape that wouldhave made Paris' eyes pop had he been around to take notice. Pariswasn't, but Quidley's eyes, did the job.     After coming in the door, the girl deposited a book on the librarian'sdesk and headed for the literature section. Quickly Quidley loweredhis eyes to the      Anabasis     and henceforth followed her progress out oftheir corners. When she came to the O's she paused, took down a bookand glanced through it. Then she replaced it and moved on to theP's ... the Q's ... the R's. Barely three feet from him she pausedagain and took down Taine's      History of English Literature     .     He simply could not believe it. The odds against two persons taking aninterest in so esoteric a volume on a single night in a single librarywere ten thousand to one. And yet there was no gainsaying that thevolume was in the girl's hands, and that she was riffling through itwith the air of a seasoned browser.     Presently she returned the book to the shelf, selectedanother—seemingly at random—and took it over to the librarian's desk.She waited statuesquely while the librarian processed it, then tuckedit under her arm and whisked out the door into the misty April night.As soon as she disappeared, Quidley stepped over to the T's and tookTaine down once more. Just as he had suspected. The makeshift bookmarkwas gone.     He remembered how the asdf-;lkj exercise had given way to several linesof gibberish and then reappeared again. A camouflaged message? Or wasit merely what it appeared to be on the surface—the efforts of animpatient typing student to type before his time?     He returned Taine to the shelf. After learning from the librarian thatthe girl's name was Kay Smith, he went out and got in his hardtop. Thename rang a bell. Halfway home he realized why. The typing exercise hadcontained the word Cai, and if you pronounced it with hard c, you gotKai—or Kay. Obviously, then, the exercise had been a message, andhad been deliberately inserted in a book no average person would dreamof borrowing.     By whom—her boy friend?     Quidley winced. He was allergic to the term. Not that he ever let thepresence of a boy friend deter him when he set out to conquer, butbecause the term itself brought to mind the word fiance, and the wordfiance brought to mind still another word, one which repelled himviolently. I.e., marriage. Just the same, he decided to keep Taine's      History     under observation for a while.  <doc-sep>The chimes sounded again. He opened the door.     She walked in with a demure, Hello. He took her wrap. When he sawwhat she was wearing he had to tilt his head back so that his eyeswouldn't fall out of their sockets.     Skin, mostly, in the upper regions. White, glowing skin on which herlong hair lay like forest pools. As for her dress, it was as thoughshe had fallen forward into immaculate snow, half-burying her breastsbefore catching herself on her elbows, then turning into a sittingposition, the snow clinging to her skin in a glistening veneer;arising finally to her feet, resplendently attired.     He went over to the sideboard, picked up the bottle of bourbon. Shefollowed. He set the two snifter glasses side by side and tilted thebottle. Say when. When! I admire your dress—never saw anythingquite like it. Thank you. The material is something new. Feel it.It's—it's almost like foam rubber. Cigarette? Thanks.... Issomething wrong, Mr. Quidley? No, of course not. Why? Your handsare trembling. Oh. I'm—I'm afraid it's the present company, MissSmith. Call me Kay.     They touched glasses: Your liquor is as exquisite as your living room,Herbert. I shall have to come here more often. I hope you will, Kay.Though such conduct, I'm told, is morally reprehensible on the planetEarth. Not in this particular circle. Your hair is lovely. Thankyou.... You haven't mentioned my perfume yet. Perhaps I'm standing toofar away.... There! It's—it's as lovely as your hair, Kay. Um,kiss me again. I—I never figured—I mean, I engaged a caterer toserve us dinner at 9:30. Call him up. Make it 10:30.  <doc-sep>Why, that's our guest of honor, said Magnan, a fine young fellow!Slop I believe his name is.     Slock, said Retief. Eight feet of armor-plated orneriness. And—     Magnan rose and tapped on his glass. The Fustians winced at the, tothem, supersonic vibrations. They looked at each other muttering.Magnan tapped louder. The Minister drew in his head, eyes closed. Someof the Fustians rose, tottered for the doors; the noise level rose.Magnan redoubled his efforts. The glass broke with a clatter and greenwine gushed on the tablecloth.     What in the name of the Great Egg! the Minister muttered. He blinked,breathing deeply.     Oh, forgive me, blurted Magnan, dabbing at the wine.     Too bad the glass gave out, said Retief. In another minute you'dhave cleared the hall. And then maybe I could have gotten a word insideways. There's a matter you should know about—     Your attention, please, Magnan said, rising. I see that our fineyoung guest has arrived, and I hope that the remainder of his committeewill be along in a moment. It is my pleasure to announce that our Mr.Retief has had the good fortune to win out in the keen bidding for thepleasure of sponsoring this lovely group.     Retief tugged at Magnan's sleeve. Don't introduce me yet, he said. Iwant to appear suddenly. More dramatic, you know.     Well, murmured Magnan, glancing down at Retief, I'm gratified tosee you entering into the spirit of the event at last. He turned hisattention back to the assembled guests. If our honored guest will joinme on the rostrum...? he said. The gentlemen of the press may want tocatch a few shots of the presentation.     Magnan stepped up on the low platform at the center of the wide room,took his place beside the robed Fustian youth and beamed at the cameras.     How gratifying it is to take this opportunity to express once more thegreat pleasure we have in sponsoring SCARS, he said, talking slowlyfor the benefit of the scribbling reporters. We'd like to think thatin our modest way we're to be a part of all that the SCARS achieveduring the years ahead.     Magnan paused as a huge Fustian elder heaved his bulk up the two lowsteps to the rostrum, approached the guest of honor. He watched as thenewcomer paused behind Slock, who did not see the new arrival.     Retief pushed through the crowd, stepped up to face the Fustian youth.Slock stared at him, drew back.     You know me, Slock, said Retief loudly. An old fellow named Whonktold you about me, just before you tried to saw his head off, remember?It was when I came out to take a look at that battle cruiser you'rebuilding.      IV     With a bellow Slock reached for Retief—and choked off in mid-cry asthe Fustian elder, Whonk, pinioned him from behind, lifting him clearof the floor.     Glad you reporters happened along, said Retief to the gaping newsmen.Slock here had a deal with a sharp operator from the Groaci Embassy.The Groaci were to supply the necessary hardware and Slock, as foremanat the shipyards, was to see that everything was properly installed.The next step, I assume, would have been a local take-over, followedby a little interplanetary war on Flamenco or one of the other nearbyworlds ... for which the Groaci would be glad to supply plenty of ammo.     Magnan found his tongue. Are you mad, Retief? he screeched. Thisgroup was vouched for by the Ministry of Youth!     The Ministry's overdue for a purge, snapped Retief. He turned backto Slock. I wonder if you were in on the little diversion that wasplanned for today. When the      Moss Rock     blew, a variety of clues wereto be planted where they'd be easy to find ... with SCARS written allover them. The Groaci would thus have neatly laid the whole affairsquarely at the door of the Terrestrial Embassy ... whose sponsorshipof the SCARS had received plenty of publicity.     The      Moss Rock     ? said Magnan. But that was—Retief! This is idiotic.Slock himself was scheduled to go on a cruise tomorrow!     Slock roared suddenly, twisting violently. Whonk teetered, his griploosened ... and Slock pulled free and was off the platform, buttinghis way through the milling oldsters on the dining room floor. Magnanwatched, open-mouthed.     The Groaci were playing a double game, as usual, Retief said. Theyintended to dispose of this fellow Slock, once he'd served theirpurpose.     Well, don't stand there, yelped Magnan over the uproar. If Slock isthe ring-leader of a delinquent gang...! He moved to give chase.     Retief grabbed his arm. Don't jump down there! You'd have as muchchance of getting through as a jack-rabbit through a threshing contest.     Ten minutes later the crowd had thinned slightly. We can get throughnow, Whonk called. This way. He lowered himself to the floor, bulledthrough to the exit. Flashbulbs popped. Retief and Magnan followed inWhonk's wake.     In the lounge Retief grabbed the phone, waited for the operator, gave acode letter. No reply. He tried another.     No good, he said after a full minute had passed. Wonder what'sloose? He slammed the phone back in its niche. Let's grab a cab.  <doc-sep>The alien was a pathetic sight: a Stortulian, a squirrely-lookingcreature about three feet high. His fur, which should have been alustrous black, was a dull gray, and his eyes were wet and sad. Histail drooped. His voice was little more than a faint whimper, even atfull volume.     Begging your most honored pardon most humbly, important sir. I am abeing of Stortul XII, having sold my last few possessions to travelto Ghryne for the miserable purpose of obtaining an interview withyourself.     I said, I'd better tell you right at the outset that we're alreadycarrying our full complement of Stortulians. We have both a male and afemale now and—     This is known to me. The female—is her name perchance Tiress?     I glanced down at the inventory chart until I found the Stortulianentry. Yes, that's her name.     The little being immediately emitted a soul-shaking gasp. It is she!It is she!     I'm afraid we don't have room for any more—     You are not in full understanding of my plight. The female Tiress,she is—was—my own Fire-sent spouse, my comfort and my warmth, my lifeand my love.     Funny, I said. When we signed her three years ago, she said she wassingle. It's right here on the chart.     She lied! She left my burrow because she longed to see the splendorsof Earth. And I am alone, bound by our sacred customs never to remarry,languishing in sadness and pining for her return. You      must     take me toEarth!     But—     I must see her—her and this disgrace-bringing lover of hers. I mustreason with her. Earthman, can't you see I must appeal to her innerflame?      I must bring her back!          My face was expressionless. You don't really intend to join ourorganization at all—you just want free passage to Earth?     Yes, yes! wailed the Stortulian. Find some other member of my race,if you must! Let me have my wife again, Earthman! Is your heart a deadlump of stone?  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the name of Herbert's spouse and what part does she play in the tale of A Bottle of Old Wine?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How would you characterize the relationship between Herbert and his spouse in A BOTTLE OF Old Wine? [SEP] <s>  He let the  thought runaround through his head, savoringit with mental taste buds.He would not kill her tonight. No,nor the next night. He would wait,wait until he had sucked the lastmeasure of pleasure from thethought.     It was like having a bottle ofrare old wine on a shelf where itcould be viewed daily. It was likebeing able to pause again andagain before the bottle, hold it upto the light, and say to it, Someday, when my desire for you hasreached the ultimate, I shall unstopperyou quietly and sip youslowly to the last soul-satisfyingdrop. As long as the bottle remainedthere upon the shelf it wassymbolic of that pleasurable moment....     He snapped out of his reverieand realized he had been wastingprecious moments. There would betime enough tomorrow for gloating.Tonight, there were otherthings to do. Pleasurable things.He remembered the girl he hadmet the night before, and smiledsmugly. Perhaps she would beawaiting him even now. If not,there would be another one....     He settled himself deeper intothe chair, glanced once more at hiswife, then let his head lean comfortablyback against the chair'sheadrest. His hand upon his thighfelt the thin mesh that cloaked hisbody beneath his clothing like asheer stocking. His fingers wentagain to the tiny switch. Again hehesitated.     Herbert Hyrel knew no moreabout the telporter suit he worethan he did about the radio in thecorner, the TV set against the wall,or the personalized telovis his wifewas wearing. You pressed one ofthe buttons on the radio; musiccame out. You pressed a buttonand clicked a dial on the TV;music and pictures came out. Youpressed a button and made an adjustmenton the telovis; three-dimensional,emotion-colored picturesleaped into the room. Youpressed a tiny switch on the telportersuit; you were whisked away toa receiving set you had previouslyset up in secret.     He knew that the music and theimages of the performers on theTV and telovis were brought to hisroom by some form of electrical impulseor wave while the actual musiciansand performers remained inthe studio. He knew that when hepressed the switch on his thighsomething within him—his ectoplasm,higher self, the thing spiritsuse for materialization, whateverits real name—streamed out of himalong an invisible channel, leavinghis body behind in the chair in aconscious but dream-like state. Hisother self materialized in a smallcabin in a hidden nook between ahighway and a river where he hadinstalled the receiving set a monthago.     He thought once more of the girlwho might be waiting for him,smiled, and pressed the switch.   <doc-sep>  Transcriber's Note:   This etext was produced from Analog March 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.    ILLUSTRATED     BY     KRENKEL        HIS MASTER'S VOICE     ANALOG SCIENCE FACT · SCIENCE FICTION       Spaceship McGuire had lots of knowledge—but no wisdom. He wassmart—but incredibly foolish. And, as a natural consequence, tended toask questions too profound for any philosopher—questions like Who areyou?     By RANDALL GARRETT      I'd been in Ravenhurst's office on the mountain-sized planetoid calledRaven's Rest only twice before. The third time was no better; ShalimarRavenhurst was one of the smartest operators in the Belt, but when itcame to personal relationships, he was utterly incompetent. He couldmake anyone dislike him without trying.     When I entered the office, he was  [3]  sitting behind his mahogany desk,his eyes focused on the operation he was going through with a wineglassand a decanter. He didn't look up at me as he said:     Sit down, Mr. Oak. Will you have some Madeira?     I decided I might as well observe the pleasantries. There was no pointin my getting nasty until he did. Thank you, Mr. Ravenhurst, I will.     He kept his eyes focused on his work: It isn't easy to pour wine on aplanetoid where the gee-pull is measured in fractions of a centimeterper second squared. It moves slowly, like ropy molasses, but you haveto be careful not to be fooled by that. The viscosity is just as lowas ever, and if you pour it from any great height, it will go scootingright out of the glass  [4]  again. The momentum it builds up is enough tomake it splash right out again in a slow-motion gush which gets it allover the place.     Besides which, even if it didn't splash, it would take it so long tofall a few inches that you'd die of thirst waiting for it.     Ravenhurst had evolved a technique from long years of practice.He tilted the glass and the bottle toward each other, their edgestouching, like you do when you're trying to pour beer without putting ahead on it. As soon as the wine wet the glass, the adhesive forces atwork would pull more wine into the wine glass. To get capillary actionon a low-gee asteroid, you don't need a capillary, by any means. Thenegative meniscus on the wine was something to see; the first timeyou see it, you get the eerie feeling that the glass is spinning andthrowing the wine up against the walls by centrifugal force.     I took the glass he offered me (Careful! Don't slosh!) and sipped atit. Using squirt tubes would have been a hell of a lot easier andneater, but Ravenhurst liked to do things his way.     He put the stopper back in the decanter, picked up his own glass andsipped appreciatively. Not until he put it back down on the desk againdid he raise his eyes and look at me for the first time since I'd comein.     Mr. Oak, you have caused me considerable trouble.     I thought we'd hashed all that out, Mr. Ravenhurst, I said, keepingmy voice level.     [5]     So had I. But it appears that there were more ramifications to youraction than we had at first supposed. His voice had the texture ofheavy linseed oil.     He waited, as if he expected me to make some reply to that. WhenI didn't, he sighed slightly and went on. I fear that you haveinadvertently sabotaged McGuire. You were commissioned to preventsabotage, Mr. Oak, and I'm afraid that you abrogated your contract.     I just continued to keep my voice calm. If you are trying to get backthe fee you gave me, we can always take it to court. I don't thinkyou'd win.     Mr. Oak, he said heavily, I am not a fool, regardless of what yourown impression may be. If I were trying to get back that fee, I wouldhardly offer to pay you another one.     I didn't think he was a fool. You don't get into the managerialbusiness and climb to the top and stay there unless you have brains.Ravenhurst was smart, all right; it was just that, when it came topersonal relationships, he wasn't very wise.     Then stop all this yak about an abrogated contract and get to thepoint, I told him.     I shall. I was merely trying to point out to you that it is throughyour own actions that I find myself in a very trying position, and thatyour sense of honor and ethics should induce you to rectify the damage.     My honor and ethics are in fine shape, I said, but my interpretationof the concepts might not be quite  [6]  the same as yours. Get to thepoint.     He took another sip of Madeira. The robotocists at Viking tellme that, in order to prevent any further ... ah ... sabotage byunauthorized persons, the MGYR-7 was constructed so that, afteractivation, the first man who addressed orders to it would thenceforthbe considered its ... ah ... master.     As I understand it, the problem of defining the term 'human being'unambiguously to a robot is still unsolved. The robotocists felt thatit would be much easier to define a single individual. That wouldprevent the issuing of conflicting orders to a robot, provided thesingle individual were careful in giving orders himself.     Now, it appears that      you     , Mr. Oak, were the first man to speak toMcGuire after he had been activated. Is that correct?     Is that question purely rhetorical, I asked him, putting on my bestexpression of innocent interest. Or are you losing your memory? I hadexplained all that to him two weeks before, when I'd brought McGuireand the girl here, so that Ravenhurst would have a chance to cover upwhat had really happened.  <doc-sep>  The dank air  of the cabinwas chill to Herbert Hyrel'snaked flesh. He fumbled throughthe darkness for the clothing hekept there, found his shorts andtrousers, got hurriedly into them,then flicked on a pocket lighter andignited a stub of candle upon thetable. By the wavering light, he finisheddressing in the black satinclothing, the white shirt, the flowingnecktie and tam. He invoicedthe contents of his billfold. Notmuch. And his monthly pittancewas still two weeks away....     He had skimped for six monthsto salvage enough money from hisallowance to make a down paymenton the telporter suit. Sincethen, his expenses—monthly paymentsfor the suit, cabin rent, costlyliquor—had forced him to place hisnights of escape on strict ration. Hecould not go on this way, he realized.Not now. Not since he hadmet the girl. He had to have moremoney. Perhaps he could not affordthe luxury of leaving the winebottle longer upon the shelf....     Riverside Club, where Hyrel arrivedby bus and a hundred yardsof walking, was exclusive. It cateredto a clientele that had butthree things in common: money, adesire for utter self-abandonment,and a sales slip indicating ownershipof a telporter suit. The clubwas of necessity expensive, for self-telportationwas strictly illegal, andpolice protection came high.     Herbert Hyrel adjusted his white,silken mask carefully at the doorand shoved his sales slip through asmall aperture where it was thoroughlyscanned by unseen eyes. Abuzzer sounded an instant later, thelock on the door clicked, and Hyrelpushed through into the exhilaratingwarmth of music and laughter.     The main room was large. Hiddenlights along the walls sent slowbeams of red, blue, vermillion,green, yellow and pink trailingacross the domed ceiling in a heterogeneouspattern. The coloredbeams mingled, diffused, spread,were caught up by mirrors of varioustints which diffused and mingledthe lights once more until thewhole effect was an ever-changingpanorama of softly-melting shades.     The gay and bizarre costumes ofthe masked revelers on the dancefloor and at the tables, unearthly inthemselves, were made even moreso by the altering light. Musicflooded the room from unseensources. Laughter—hysterical,drunken, filled with utter abandonment—camefrom the dance floor,the tables, and the private boothsand rooms hidden cleverly withinthe walls.     Hyrel pushed himself to an unoccupiedtable, sat down and ordereda bottle of cheap whiskey. Hewould have preferred champagne,but his depleted finances forbadethe more discriminate taste.     When his order arrived, hepoured a glass tumbler half fulland consumed it eagerly while hiseyes scanned the room in search ofthe girl. He couldn't see her in thedim swirl of color. Had she arrived?Perhaps she was wearing adifferent costume than she had thenight before. If so, recognitionmight prove difficult.     He poured himself another drink,promising himself he would go insearch of her when the liquor beganto take effect.     A woman clad in the revealinggarb of a Persian dancer threw anarm about him from behind andkissed him on the cheek throughthe veil which covered the lowerpart of her face.     Hi, honey, she giggled into hisear. Havin' a time?     He reached for the white arm topull her to him, but she eluded hisgrasp and reeled away into thewaiting arms of a tall toreador.Hyrel gulped his whiskey andwatched her nestle into the arms ofher partner and begin with him asinuous, suggestive dance. Thewhiskey had begun its warming effect,and he laughed.     This was the land of the lotuseaters, the sanctuary of the escapists,the haven of all who wished tocast off their shell of inhibition andbecome the thing they dreamedthemselves to be. Here one couldbe among his own kind, an actorupon a gay stage, a gaudy butterflymetamorphosed from the slug,a knight of old.     The Persian dancing girl wasprobably the wife of a boorish oafwhose idea of romance was spendingan evening telling his wife howhe came to be a successful bankpresident. But she had found hermeans of escape. Perhaps she hadpleaded a sick headache and hadretired to her room. And there uponthe bed now reposed her shell ofreality while her inner self, theshadowy one, completely materialized,became an exotic thing fromthe East in this never-never land.     The man, the toreador, hadprobably closeted himself within hislibrary with a set of account booksand had left strict orders not to bedisturbed until he had finishedwith them.     Both would have terrific hangoversin the morning. But that, ofcourse, would be fully compensatedfor by the memories of the evening.     Hyrel chuckled. The situationstruck him as being funny: theshadowy self got drunk and had agood time, and the outer husk sufferedthe hangover in the morning.Strange. Strange how a device suchas the telporter suit could cause theshadow of each bodily cell to leavethe body, materialize, and becomea reality in its own right. Andyet ...   <doc-sep>Arapoulous puffed on his cigar, looked worriedly at Retief. Our winecrop is our big money crop, he said. We make enough to keep us going.But this year....     The crop isn't panning out?     Oh, the crop's fine. One of the best I can remember. Course, I'm onlytwenty-eight; I can't remember but two other harvests. The problem'snot the crop.     Have you lost your markets? That sounds like a matter for theCommercial—     Lost our markets? Mister, nobody that ever tasted our wines eversettled for anything else!     It sounds like I've been missing something, said Retief. I'll haveto try them some time.     Arapoulous put his bundle on the desk, pulled off the wrappings. Notime like the present, he said.     Retief looked at the two squat bottles, one green, one amber, bothdusty, with faded labels, and blackened corks secured by wire.     Drinking on duty is frowned on in the Corps, Mr. Arapoulous, he said.     This isn't      drinking     . It's just wine. Arapoulous pulled the wireretainer loose, thumbed the cork. It rose slowly, then popped in theair. Arapoulous caught it. Aromatic fumes wafted from the bottle.Besides, my feelings would be hurt if you didn't join me. He winked.     Retief took two thin-walled glasses from a table beside the desk. Cometo think of it, we also have to be careful about violating quaintnative customs.     Arapoulous filled the glasses. Retief picked one up, sniffed the deeprust-colored fluid, tasted it, then took a healthy swallow. He lookedat Arapoulous thoughtfully.     Hmmm. It tastes like salted pecans, with an undercurrent of crustedport.     Don't try to describe it, Mr. Retief, Arapoulous said. He took amouthful of wine, swished it around his teeth, swallowed. It's Bacchuswine, that's all. Nothing like it in the Galaxy. He pushed the secondbottle toward Retief. The custom back home is to alternate red wineand black.  <doc-sep>    A grim tale of a future in which everyone is desperate to escapereality, and a hero who wants to have his wine and drink it, too.       A BOTTLE OF       Old Wine       By Richard O. Lewis     Illustrated by KELLY FREAS  <doc-sep>   The Girls From Fieu Dayol     By ROBERT F. YOUNG     They were lovely and quick     to learn—and their only     faults were little ones!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Up until the moment when he first looked into Hippolyte Adolphe Taine's      History of English Literature     , Herbert Quidley's penchant for oldbooks had netted him nothing in the way of romance and intrigue.Not that he was a stranger to either. Far from it. But hitherto thebackground for both had been bedrooms and bars, not libraries.     On page 21 of the Taine tome he happened upon a sheet of yellow copypaper folded in four. Unfolding it, he read:       asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkjCai: Sities towms copeis wotnid. Gind snoll doper nckli! Wilbe FieuDayol fot ig habe mot toseo knwo—te bijk weil en snoll doper—Klio,asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj       Since when, Quidley wondered, refolding the paper and putting it backin the book, had high-school typing students taken to reading Taine?Thoughtfully he replaced the book on the shelf and moved deeper intothe literature section.     He had just taken down Xenophon's      Anabasis     when he saw the girl walkin the door.     Let it be said forthwith that old books were not the only item onHerbert Quidley's penchant-list. He liked old wood, too, and oldpaintings, not to mention old wine and old whiskey. But most of all heliked young girls. He especially liked them when they looked the wayHelen of Troy must have looked when Paris took one gander at her andstarted building his ladder. This one was tall, with hyacinth hair andliquid blue eyes, and she had a Grecian symmetry of shape that wouldhave made Paris' eyes pop had he been around to take notice. Pariswasn't, but Quidley's eyes, did the job.     After coming in the door, the girl deposited a book on the librarian'sdesk and headed for the literature section. Quickly Quidley loweredhis eyes to the      Anabasis     and henceforth followed her progress out oftheir corners. When she came to the O's she paused, took down a bookand glanced through it. Then she replaced it and moved on to theP's ... the Q's ... the R's. Barely three feet from him she pausedagain and took down Taine's      History of English Literature     .     He simply could not believe it. The odds against two persons taking aninterest in so esoteric a volume on a single night in a single librarywere ten thousand to one. And yet there was no gainsaying that thevolume was in the girl's hands, and that she was riffling through itwith the air of a seasoned browser.     Presently she returned the book to the shelf, selectedanother—seemingly at random—and took it over to the librarian's desk.She waited statuesquely while the librarian processed it, then tuckedit under her arm and whisked out the door into the misty April night.As soon as she disappeared, Quidley stepped over to the T's and tookTaine down once more. Just as he had suspected. The makeshift bookmarkwas gone.     He remembered how the asdf-;lkj exercise had given way to several linesof gibberish and then reappeared again. A camouflaged message? Or wasit merely what it appeared to be on the surface—the efforts of animpatient typing student to type before his time?     He returned Taine to the shelf. After learning from the librarian thatthe girl's name was Kay Smith, he went out and got in his hardtop. Thename rang a bell. Halfway home he realized why. The typing exercise hadcontained the word Cai, and if you pronounced it with hard c, you gotKai—or Kay. Obviously, then, the exercise had been a message, andhad been deliberately inserted in a book no average person would dreamof borrowing.     By whom—her boy friend?     Quidley winced. He was allergic to the term. Not that he ever let thepresence of a boy friend deter him when he set out to conquer, butbecause the term itself brought to mind the word fiance, and the wordfiance brought to mind still another word, one which repelled himviolently. I.e., marriage. Just the same, he decided to keep Taine's      History     under observation for a while.  <doc-sep>It's all right, it's only sugar, she said, laughing.     I'm hopelessly clumsy, he continued smoothly, brushing the gleamingcrystals from her pleated skirt, noting the clean sweep of her thighs.I beseech you to forgive me.     You're forgiven, she said, and he noticed then that she spoke with aslight accent.     If you like, you can send it to the cleaners and have them send thebill to me. My address is 61 Park Place. He pulled out his wallet,chose an appropriate card, and handed it to her—     Herbert Quidley:      Profiliste       Her forehead crinkled.       Profiliste?          I paint profiles with words, he said. You may have run across someof my pieces in the Better Magazines. I employ a variety of pseudonyms,of course.     How interesting. She pronounced it anteresting.     Not famous profiles, you understand. Just profiles that strike myfancy. He paused. She had raised her cup to her lips and was taking adainty sip. You have a rather striking profile yourself, Miss—     Smith. Kay Smith. She set the cup back on the counter and turned andfaced him. For a second her eyes seemed to expand till they preoccupiedhis entire vision, till he could see nothing but their disturbinglyclear—and suddenly cold—blueness. Panic touched him, then vanishedwhen she said, Would you really consider word-painting      my     profile,Mr. Quidley?       Would     he! When can I call?     She hesitated for a moment. Then: I think it will be better if I callon you. There are quite a number of people living in our—our house.I'm afraid the quarters would be much too cramped for an artist likeyourself to concentrate.     Quidley glowed. Usually it required two or three days, and sometimes aweek, to reach the apartment phase. Fine, he said. When can I expectyou?     She stood up and he got to his feet beside her. She was even tallerthan he had thought. In fact, if he hadn't been wearing Cuban heels,she'd have been taller than he was. I'll be in town night after next,she said. Will nine o'clock be convenient for you?     Perfectly.     Good-by for now then, Mr. Quidley.     He was so elated that when he arrived at his apartment he actuallydid try to write a profile. His own, of course. He sat down at hiscustom-built chrome-trimmed desk, inserted a blank sheet of paper inhis custom-built typewriter and tried to arrange his thoughts. But asusual his mind raced ahead of the moment, and he saw the title,      SelfProfile     , nestling noticeably on the contents page of one of the BetterMagazines, and presently he saw the piece itself in all its splendidarray of colorful rhetoric, sparkling imagery and scintillating wit,occupying a two-page spread.     It was some time before he returned to reality, and when he did thefirst thing that met his eyes was the uncompromisingly blank sheet ofpaper. Hurriedly he typed out a letter to his father, requesting anadvance on his allowance, then, after a tall glass of vintage wine, hewent to bed.  <doc-sep>Miss Furkle sniffed and disappeared from the screen. Retief left theoffice, descended forty-one stories, followed a corridor to the CorpsLibrary. In the stacks he thumbed through catalogues, pored overindices.     Can I help you? someone chirped. A tiny librarian stood at his elbow.     Thank you, ma'am, Retief said. I'm looking for information on amining rig. A Bolo model WV tractor.     You won't find it in the industrial section, the librarian said.Come along. Retief followed her along the stacks to a well-litsection lettered ARMAMENTS. She took a tape from the shelf, pluggedit into the viewer, flipped through and stopped at a squat armoredvehicle.     That's the model WV, she said. It's what is known as a continentalsiege unit. It carries four men, with a half-megaton/second firepower.     There must be an error somewhere, Retief said. The Bolo model I wantis a tractor. Model WV M-1—       Oh, the modification was the addition of a bulldozer blade fordemolition work. That must be what confused you.     Probably—among other things. Thank you.     Miss Furkle was waiting at the office. I have the information youwanted, she said. I've had it for over ten minutes. I was under theimpression you needed it urgently, and I went to great lengths—     Sure, Retief said. Shoot. How many tractors?     Five hundred.     Are you sure?     Miss Furkle's chins quivered. Well! If you feel I'm incompetent—     Just questioning the possibility of a mistake, Miss Furkle. Fivehundred tractors is a lot of equipment.     Was there anything further? Miss Furkle inquired frigidly.     I sincerely hope not, Retief said.      III     Leaning back in Magnan's padded chair with power swivel andhip-u-matic concontour, Retief leafed through a folder labelled CERP7-602-Ba; CROANIE (general). He paused at a page headed Industry.     Still reading, he opened the desk drawer, took out the two bottles ofBacchus wine and two glasses. He poured an inch of wine into each andsipped the black wine meditatively.     It would be a pity, he reflected, if anything should interfere with theproduction of such vintages....     Half an hour later he laid the folder aside, keyed the phone and putthrough a call to the Croanie Legation. He asked for the CommercialAttache.     Retief here, Corps HQ, he said airily. About the MEDDLE shipment,the tractors. I'm wondering if there's been a slip up. My records showwe're shipping five hundred units....     That's correct. Five hundred.     Retief waited.     Ah ... are you there, Retief?     I'm still here. And I'm still wondering about the five hundredtractors.     It's perfectly in order. I thought it was all settled. Mr. Whaffle—     One unit would require a good-sized plant to handle its output,Retief said. Now Croanie subsists on her fisheries. She has perhapshalf a dozen pint-sized processing plants. Maybe, in a bind, theycould handle the ore ten WV's could scrape up ... if Croanie had anyore. It doesn't. By the way, isn't a WV a poor choice as a miningoutfit? I should think—     See here, Retief! Why all this interest in a few surplus tractors?And in any event, what business is it of yours how we plan to use theequipment? That's an internal affair of my government. Mr. Whaffle—     I'm not Mr. Whaffle. What are you going to do with the other fourhundred and ninety tractors?     I understood the grant was to be with no strings attached!     I know it's bad manners to ask questions. It's an old diplomatictradition that any time you can get anybody to accept anything as agift, you've scored points in the game. But if Croanie has some schemecooking—  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How would you characterize the relationship between Herbert and his spouse in A BOTTLE OF Old Wine?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What role do teleporter suits play in the plot of A BOTTLE OF Old Wine? [SEP] <s>    A grim tale of a future in which everyone is desperate to escapereality, and a hero who wants to have his wine and drink it, too.       A BOTTLE OF       Old Wine       By Richard O. Lewis     Illustrated by KELLY FREAS  <doc-sep>  He let the  thought runaround through his head, savoringit with mental taste buds.He would not kill her tonight. No,nor the next night. He would wait,wait until he had sucked the lastmeasure of pleasure from thethought.     It was like having a bottle ofrare old wine on a shelf where itcould be viewed daily. It was likebeing able to pause again andagain before the bottle, hold it upto the light, and say to it, Someday, when my desire for you hasreached the ultimate, I shall unstopperyou quietly and sip youslowly to the last soul-satisfyingdrop. As long as the bottle remainedthere upon the shelf it wassymbolic of that pleasurable moment....     He snapped out of his reverieand realized he had been wastingprecious moments. There would betime enough tomorrow for gloating.Tonight, there were otherthings to do. Pleasurable things.He remembered the girl he hadmet the night before, and smiledsmugly. Perhaps she would beawaiting him even now. If not,there would be another one....     He settled himself deeper intothe chair, glanced once more at hiswife, then let his head lean comfortablyback against the chair'sheadrest. His hand upon his thighfelt the thin mesh that cloaked hisbody beneath his clothing like asheer stocking. His fingers wentagain to the tiny switch. Again hehesitated.     Herbert Hyrel knew no moreabout the telporter suit he worethan he did about the radio in thecorner, the TV set against the wall,or the personalized telovis his wifewas wearing. You pressed one ofthe buttons on the radio; musiccame out. You pressed a buttonand clicked a dial on the TV;music and pictures came out. Youpressed a button and made an adjustmenton the telovis; three-dimensional,emotion-colored picturesleaped into the room. Youpressed a tiny switch on the telportersuit; you were whisked away toa receiving set you had previouslyset up in secret.     He knew that the music and theimages of the performers on theTV and telovis were brought to hisroom by some form of electrical impulseor wave while the actual musiciansand performers remained inthe studio. He knew that when hepressed the switch on his thighsomething within him—his ectoplasm,higher self, the thing spiritsuse for materialization, whateverits real name—streamed out of himalong an invisible channel, leavinghis body behind in the chair in aconscious but dream-like state. Hisother self materialized in a smallcabin in a hidden nook between ahighway and a river where he hadinstalled the receiving set a monthago.     He thought once more of the girlwho might be waiting for him,smiled, and pressed the switch.   <doc-sep>Arapoulous puffed on his cigar, looked worriedly at Retief. Our winecrop is our big money crop, he said. We make enough to keep us going.But this year....     The crop isn't panning out?     Oh, the crop's fine. One of the best I can remember. Course, I'm onlytwenty-eight; I can't remember but two other harvests. The problem'snot the crop.     Have you lost your markets? That sounds like a matter for theCommercial—     Lost our markets? Mister, nobody that ever tasted our wines eversettled for anything else!     It sounds like I've been missing something, said Retief. I'll haveto try them some time.     Arapoulous put his bundle on the desk, pulled off the wrappings. Notime like the present, he said.     Retief looked at the two squat bottles, one green, one amber, bothdusty, with faded labels, and blackened corks secured by wire.     Drinking on duty is frowned on in the Corps, Mr. Arapoulous, he said.     This isn't      drinking     . It's just wine. Arapoulous pulled the wireretainer loose, thumbed the cork. It rose slowly, then popped in theair. Arapoulous caught it. Aromatic fumes wafted from the bottle.Besides, my feelings would be hurt if you didn't join me. He winked.     Retief took two thin-walled glasses from a table beside the desk. Cometo think of it, we also have to be careful about violating quaintnative customs.     Arapoulous filled the glasses. Retief picked one up, sniffed the deeprust-colored fluid, tasted it, then took a healthy swallow. He lookedat Arapoulous thoughtfully.     Hmmm. It tastes like salted pecans, with an undercurrent of crustedport.     Don't try to describe it, Mr. Retief, Arapoulous said. He took amouthful of wine, swished it around his teeth, swallowed. It's Bacchuswine, that's all. Nothing like it in the Galaxy. He pushed the secondbottle toward Retief. The custom back home is to alternate red wineand black.  <doc-sep>  There was a knock.     Betty bounced up with Olympicagility and had the door swingingwide before the knocking was quitecompleted.     He was old, little and had bugeyes behind pince-nez glasses. Hissuit was cut in the style of yesteryearbut when a suit costs two orthree hundred dollars you still retaincaste whatever the styling.     Simon said unenthusiastically,Good morning, Mr. Oyster. He indicatedthe client's chair. Sit down,sir.     The client fussed himself withBetty's assistance into the seat, bug-eyedSimon, said finally, You knowmy name, that's pretty good. Neversaw you before in my life. Stop fussingwith me, young lady. Your adin the phone book says you'll investigateanything.     Anything, Simon said. Onlyone exception.     Excellent. Do you believe in timetravel?     Simon said nothing. Across theroom, where she had resumed herseat, Betty cleared her throat. WhenSimon continued to say nothing sheventured, Time travel is impossible.     Why?     Why?     Yes, why?     Betty looked to her boss for assistance.None was forthcoming. Thereought to be some very quick, positive,definite answer. She said, Well,for one thing, paradox. Suppose youhad a time machine and traveled backa hundred years or so and killed yourown great-grandfather. Then howcould you ever be born?     Confound it if I know, the littlefellow growled. How?     Simon said, Let's get to the point,what you wanted to see me about.     I want to hire you to hunt me upsome time travelers, the old boysaid.     Betty was too far in now to maintainher proper role of silent secretary.Time travelers, she said, notvery intelligently.     The potential client sat more erect,obviously with intent to hold thefloor for a time. He removed thepince-nez glasses and pointed themat Betty. He said, Have you readmuch science fiction, Miss?     Some, Betty admitted.     Then you'll realize that there area dozen explanations of the paradoxesof time travel. Every writer inthe field worth his salt has explainedthem away. But to get on. It's mycontention that within a century orso man will have solved the problemsof immortality and eternal youth, andit's also my suspicion that he willeventually be able to travel in time.So convinced am I of these possibilitiesthat I am willing to gamble aportion of my fortune to investigatethe presence in our era of such timetravelers.     Simon seemed incapable of carryingthe ball this morning, so Bettysaid, But ... Mr. Oyster, if thefuture has developed time travel whydon't we ever meet such travelers?     Simon put in a word. The usualexplanation, Betty, is that they can'tafford to allow the space-time continuumtrack to be altered. If, say, atime traveler returned to a period oftwenty-five years ago and shot Hitler,then all subsequent history would bechanged. In that case, the time travelerhimself might never be born. Theyhave to tread mighty carefully.     Mr. Oyster was pleased. I didn'texpect you to be so well informedon the subject, young man.     Simon shrugged and fumbledagain with the aspirin bottle. <doc-sep>Joe was still dazed by that monetary vista when he and Harvey carriedthe case of medicine to the saloon. The mayor had already cleared aplace of honor in the cluttered back room, where he told them to put itdown carefully. Then he took the elaborate bottle-opener Harvey gavehim, reverently uncorked a bottle and sampled it. It must have been atleast as good as the first; he gagged.     That's the stuff, all right, he said, swallowing hard. He countedout the money into Harvey's hand, at a moderate rate that precariouslybalanced between his pleasure at getting the fever remedy and his painat paying for it. Then he glanced out to see the position of Jupiter,and asked: You gents eaten yet? The restaurant's open now.     Harvey and Joe looked at each other. They hadn't been thinking aboutfood at all, but suddenly they realized that they were hungry.     It's only water we were short of, Harvey said apprehensively. We'vegot rations back at the ship.           H-mph!      the mayor grunted. Powdered concentrates. Compressed pap.Suit yourselves. We treat our stomachs better here. And you're welcometo our hospitality.     Your hospitality, said Harvey, depends on the prices you charge.     Well, if that's what's worrying you, you can stop worrying, answeredthe mayor promptly. What's more, the kind of dinner I serve here youcan't get anywhere else for any price.     Swiftly, Harvey conned the possibilities of being bilked again. He sawnone.     Let's take a look at the menu, anyhow, Joe, he said guardedly.     Johnson immediately fell into the role of mine host.     Come right in, gents, he invited. Right into the dining room.     He seated them at a table, which a rope tied between posts made more orless private, though nobody else was in the saloon and there was littlechance of company.     Genius, the six-armed native, appeared from the dingy kitchen withtwo menus in one hand, two glasses of water in another, plus napkins,silverware, a pitcher, plates, saucers, cups, and their cocktails,which were on the house. Then he stood by for orders.     Harvey and Joe studied the menu critically. The prices werephenomenally low. When they glanced up at Johnson in perplexity, hegrinned, bowed and asked: Everything satisfactory, gents?     Quite, said Harvey. We shall order.     For an hour they were served amazing dishes, both fresh and canned, theculinary wealth of this planetoid and all the system. And the servicewas as extraordinary as the meal itself. With four hands, Genius playeddeftly upon a pair of mellow Venusian      viotars     , using his other twohands for waiting on the table.     We absolutely must purchase this incredible specimen, Harveywhispered excitedly when Johnson and the native were both in thekitchen, attending to the next course. He would make any societyhostess's season a riotous success, which should be worth a great sumto women like Mrs. van Schuyler-Morgan, merely for his hire.     Think of a fast one fast, Joe agreed. You're right.     But I dislike having to revise my opinion of a man so often,complained Harvey. I wish Johnson would stay either swindler or honestmerchant. This dinner is worth as least twenty buckos, yet I estimateour check at a mere bucko twenty redsents.     The mayor's appearance prevented them from continuing the discussion.     It's been a great honor, gents, he said. Ain't often I havevisitors, and I like the best, like you two gents.     As if on cue, Genius came out and put the check down between Joe andHarvey. Harvey picked it up negligently, but his casual air vanished ina yelp of horror.     What the devil is this? he shouted.—How do you arrive at thisfantastic, idiotic figure—      three hundred and twenty-eight buckos     !  <doc-sep>Most of the cousins gasped as the truth began to percolate through.     I knew from the very beginning, Conrad finished, that I didn'thave to do anything at all. I just had to wait and you would destroyyourselves.     I don't understand, Bartholomew protested, searching the faces of thecousins closest to him. What does he mean, we have never existed?We're here, aren't we? What—     Shut up! Raymond snapped. He turned on Martin. You don't seemsurprised.     The old man grinned. I'm not. I figured it all out years ago.     At first, he had wondered what he should do. Would it be better tothrow them into a futile panic by telling them or to do nothing? Hehad decided on the latter; that was the role they had assigned him—towatch and wait and keep out of things—and that was the role he wouldplay.     You knew all the time and you didn't tell us! Raymond spluttered.After we'd been so good to you, making a gentleman out of you insteadof a criminal.... That's right, he snarled, a criminal! An alcoholic,a thief, a derelict! How do you like that?     Sounds like a rich, full life, Martin said wistfully.     What an exciting existence they must have done him out of! But then, hecouldn't help thinking, he—he and Conrad together, of course—had donethem out of      any     kind of existence. It wasn't his responsibility,though; he had done nothing but let matters take whatever course wasdestined for them. If only he could be sure that it was the bettercourse, perhaps he wouldn't feel that nagging sense of guilt insidehim. Strange—where, in his hermetic life, could he possibly havedeveloped such a queer thing as a conscience?     Then we've wasted all this time, Ninian sobbed, all this energy, allthis money, for nothing!     But you were nothing to begin with, Martin told them. And then,after a pause, he added, I only wish I could be sure there had beensome purpose to this.     He didn't know whether it was approaching death that dimmed his sight,or whether the frightened crowd that pressed around him was growingshadowy.     I wish I could feel that some good had been done in letting you bewiped out of existence, he went on voicing his thoughts. But I knowthat the same thing that happened to your worlds and my world willhappen all over again. To other people, in other times, but again. It'sbound to happen. There isn't any hope for humanity.     One man couldn't really change the course of human history, he toldhimself. Two men, that was—one real, one a shadow.     Conrad came close to the old man's bed. He was almost transparent.     No, he said, there is hope. They didn't know the time transmitterworks two ways. I used it for going into the past only once—just thisonce. But I've gone into the future with it many times. And— hepressed Martin's hand—believe me, what I did—what      we     did, you andI—serves a purpose. It will change things for the better. Everythingis going to be all right.  <doc-sep>  The dank air  of the cabinwas chill to Herbert Hyrel'snaked flesh. He fumbled throughthe darkness for the clothing hekept there, found his shorts andtrousers, got hurriedly into them,then flicked on a pocket lighter andignited a stub of candle upon thetable. By the wavering light, he finisheddressing in the black satinclothing, the white shirt, the flowingnecktie and tam. He invoicedthe contents of his billfold. Notmuch. And his monthly pittancewas still two weeks away....     He had skimped for six monthsto salvage enough money from hisallowance to make a down paymenton the telporter suit. Sincethen, his expenses—monthly paymentsfor the suit, cabin rent, costlyliquor—had forced him to place hisnights of escape on strict ration. Hecould not go on this way, he realized.Not now. Not since he hadmet the girl. He had to have moremoney. Perhaps he could not affordthe luxury of leaving the winebottle longer upon the shelf....     Riverside Club, where Hyrel arrivedby bus and a hundred yardsof walking, was exclusive. It cateredto a clientele that had butthree things in common: money, adesire for utter self-abandonment,and a sales slip indicating ownershipof a telporter suit. The clubwas of necessity expensive, for self-telportationwas strictly illegal, andpolice protection came high.     Herbert Hyrel adjusted his white,silken mask carefully at the doorand shoved his sales slip through asmall aperture where it was thoroughlyscanned by unseen eyes. Abuzzer sounded an instant later, thelock on the door clicked, and Hyrelpushed through into the exhilaratingwarmth of music and laughter.     The main room was large. Hiddenlights along the walls sent slowbeams of red, blue, vermillion,green, yellow and pink trailingacross the domed ceiling in a heterogeneouspattern. The coloredbeams mingled, diffused, spread,were caught up by mirrors of varioustints which diffused and mingledthe lights once more until thewhole effect was an ever-changingpanorama of softly-melting shades.     The gay and bizarre costumes ofthe masked revelers on the dancefloor and at the tables, unearthly inthemselves, were made even moreso by the altering light. Musicflooded the room from unseensources. Laughter—hysterical,drunken, filled with utter abandonment—camefrom the dance floor,the tables, and the private boothsand rooms hidden cleverly withinthe walls.     Hyrel pushed himself to an unoccupiedtable, sat down and ordereda bottle of cheap whiskey. Hewould have preferred champagne,but his depleted finances forbadethe more discriminate taste.     When his order arrived, hepoured a glass tumbler half fulland consumed it eagerly while hiseyes scanned the room in search ofthe girl. He couldn't see her in thedim swirl of color. Had she arrived?Perhaps she was wearing adifferent costume than she had thenight before. If so, recognitionmight prove difficult.     He poured himself another drink,promising himself he would go insearch of her when the liquor beganto take effect.     A woman clad in the revealinggarb of a Persian dancer threw anarm about him from behind andkissed him on the cheek throughthe veil which covered the lowerpart of her face.     Hi, honey, she giggled into hisear. Havin' a time?     He reached for the white arm topull her to him, but she eluded hisgrasp and reeled away into thewaiting arms of a tall toreador.Hyrel gulped his whiskey andwatched her nestle into the arms ofher partner and begin with him asinuous, suggestive dance. Thewhiskey had begun its warming effect,and he laughed.     This was the land of the lotuseaters, the sanctuary of the escapists,the haven of all who wished tocast off their shell of inhibition andbecome the thing they dreamedthemselves to be. Here one couldbe among his own kind, an actorupon a gay stage, a gaudy butterflymetamorphosed from the slug,a knight of old.     The Persian dancing girl wasprobably the wife of a boorish oafwhose idea of romance was spendingan evening telling his wife howhe came to be a successful bankpresident. But she had found hermeans of escape. Perhaps she hadpleaded a sick headache and hadretired to her room. And there uponthe bed now reposed her shell ofreality while her inner self, theshadowy one, completely materialized,became an exotic thing fromthe East in this never-never land.     The man, the toreador, hadprobably closeted himself within hislibrary with a set of account booksand had left strict orders not to bedisturbed until he had finishedwith them.     Both would have terrific hangoversin the morning. But that, ofcourse, would be fully compensatedfor by the memories of the evening.     Hyrel chuckled. The situationstruck him as being funny: theshadowy self got drunk and had agood time, and the outer husk sufferedthe hangover in the morning.Strange. Strange how a device suchas the telporter suit could cause theshadow of each bodily cell to leavethe body, materialize, and becomea reality in its own right. Andyet ...   <doc-sep>Miss Furkle sniffed and disappeared from the screen. Retief left theoffice, descended forty-one stories, followed a corridor to the CorpsLibrary. In the stacks he thumbed through catalogues, pored overindices.     Can I help you? someone chirped. A tiny librarian stood at his elbow.     Thank you, ma'am, Retief said. I'm looking for information on amining rig. A Bolo model WV tractor.     You won't find it in the industrial section, the librarian said.Come along. Retief followed her along the stacks to a well-litsection lettered ARMAMENTS. She took a tape from the shelf, pluggedit into the viewer, flipped through and stopped at a squat armoredvehicle.     That's the model WV, she said. It's what is known as a continentalsiege unit. It carries four men, with a half-megaton/second firepower.     There must be an error somewhere, Retief said. The Bolo model I wantis a tractor. Model WV M-1—       Oh, the modification was the addition of a bulldozer blade fordemolition work. That must be what confused you.     Probably—among other things. Thank you.     Miss Furkle was waiting at the office. I have the information youwanted, she said. I've had it for over ten minutes. I was under theimpression you needed it urgently, and I went to great lengths—     Sure, Retief said. Shoot. How many tractors?     Five hundred.     Are you sure?     Miss Furkle's chins quivered. Well! If you feel I'm incompetent—     Just questioning the possibility of a mistake, Miss Furkle. Fivehundred tractors is a lot of equipment.     Was there anything further? Miss Furkle inquired frigidly.     I sincerely hope not, Retief said.      III     Leaning back in Magnan's padded chair with power swivel andhip-u-matic concontour, Retief leafed through a folder labelled CERP7-602-Ba; CROANIE (general). He paused at a page headed Industry.     Still reading, he opened the desk drawer, took out the two bottles ofBacchus wine and two glasses. He poured an inch of wine into each andsipped the black wine meditatively.     It would be a pity, he reflected, if anything should interfere with theproduction of such vintages....     Half an hour later he laid the folder aside, keyed the phone and putthrough a call to the Croanie Legation. He asked for the CommercialAttache.     Retief here, Corps HQ, he said airily. About the MEDDLE shipment,the tractors. I'm wondering if there's been a slip up. My records showwe're shipping five hundred units....     That's correct. Five hundred.     Retief waited.     Ah ... are you there, Retief?     I'm still here. And I'm still wondering about the five hundredtractors.     It's perfectly in order. I thought it was all settled. Mr. Whaffle—     One unit would require a good-sized plant to handle its output,Retief said. Now Croanie subsists on her fisheries. She has perhapshalf a dozen pint-sized processing plants. Maybe, in a bind, theycould handle the ore ten WV's could scrape up ... if Croanie had anyore. It doesn't. By the way, isn't a WV a poor choice as a miningoutfit? I should think—     See here, Retief! Why all this interest in a few surplus tractors?And in any event, what business is it of yours how we plan to use theequipment? That's an internal affair of my government. Mr. Whaffle—     I'm not Mr. Whaffle. What are you going to do with the other fourhundred and ninety tractors?     I understood the grant was to be with no strings attached!     I know it's bad manners to ask questions. It's an old diplomatictradition that any time you can get anybody to accept anything as agift, you've scored points in the game. But if Croanie has some schemecooking—  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What role do teleporter suits play in the plot of A BOTTLE OF Old Wine?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the importance of the Riverside Club in both the story ""A Bottle of Old Wine"" and society as a whole? [SEP] <s>  The dank air  of the cabinwas chill to Herbert Hyrel'snaked flesh. He fumbled throughthe darkness for the clothing hekept there, found his shorts andtrousers, got hurriedly into them,then flicked on a pocket lighter andignited a stub of candle upon thetable. By the wavering light, he finisheddressing in the black satinclothing, the white shirt, the flowingnecktie and tam. He invoicedthe contents of his billfold. Notmuch. And his monthly pittancewas still two weeks away....     He had skimped for six monthsto salvage enough money from hisallowance to make a down paymenton the telporter suit. Sincethen, his expenses—monthly paymentsfor the suit, cabin rent, costlyliquor—had forced him to place hisnights of escape on strict ration. Hecould not go on this way, he realized.Not now. Not since he hadmet the girl. He had to have moremoney. Perhaps he could not affordthe luxury of leaving the winebottle longer upon the shelf....     Riverside Club, where Hyrel arrivedby bus and a hundred yardsof walking, was exclusive. It cateredto a clientele that had butthree things in common: money, adesire for utter self-abandonment,and a sales slip indicating ownershipof a telporter suit. The clubwas of necessity expensive, for self-telportationwas strictly illegal, andpolice protection came high.     Herbert Hyrel adjusted his white,silken mask carefully at the doorand shoved his sales slip through asmall aperture where it was thoroughlyscanned by unseen eyes. Abuzzer sounded an instant later, thelock on the door clicked, and Hyrelpushed through into the exhilaratingwarmth of music and laughter.     The main room was large. Hiddenlights along the walls sent slowbeams of red, blue, vermillion,green, yellow and pink trailingacross the domed ceiling in a heterogeneouspattern. The coloredbeams mingled, diffused, spread,were caught up by mirrors of varioustints which diffused and mingledthe lights once more until thewhole effect was an ever-changingpanorama of softly-melting shades.     The gay and bizarre costumes ofthe masked revelers on the dancefloor and at the tables, unearthly inthemselves, were made even moreso by the altering light. Musicflooded the room from unseensources. Laughter—hysterical,drunken, filled with utter abandonment—camefrom the dance floor,the tables, and the private boothsand rooms hidden cleverly withinthe walls.     Hyrel pushed himself to an unoccupiedtable, sat down and ordereda bottle of cheap whiskey. Hewould have preferred champagne,but his depleted finances forbadethe more discriminate taste.     When his order arrived, hepoured a glass tumbler half fulland consumed it eagerly while hiseyes scanned the room in search ofthe girl. He couldn't see her in thedim swirl of color. Had she arrived?Perhaps she was wearing adifferent costume than she had thenight before. If so, recognitionmight prove difficult.     He poured himself another drink,promising himself he would go insearch of her when the liquor beganto take effect.     A woman clad in the revealinggarb of a Persian dancer threw anarm about him from behind andkissed him on the cheek throughthe veil which covered the lowerpart of her face.     Hi, honey, she giggled into hisear. Havin' a time?     He reached for the white arm topull her to him, but she eluded hisgrasp and reeled away into thewaiting arms of a tall toreador.Hyrel gulped his whiskey andwatched her nestle into the arms ofher partner and begin with him asinuous, suggestive dance. Thewhiskey had begun its warming effect,and he laughed.     This was the land of the lotuseaters, the sanctuary of the escapists,the haven of all who wished tocast off their shell of inhibition andbecome the thing they dreamedthemselves to be. Here one couldbe among his own kind, an actorupon a gay stage, a gaudy butterflymetamorphosed from the slug,a knight of old.     The Persian dancing girl wasprobably the wife of a boorish oafwhose idea of romance was spendingan evening telling his wife howhe came to be a successful bankpresident. But she had found hermeans of escape. Perhaps she hadpleaded a sick headache and hadretired to her room. And there uponthe bed now reposed her shell ofreality while her inner self, theshadowy one, completely materialized,became an exotic thing fromthe East in this never-never land.     The man, the toreador, hadprobably closeted himself within hislibrary with a set of account booksand had left strict orders not to bedisturbed until he had finishedwith them.     Both would have terrific hangoversin the morning. But that, ofcourse, would be fully compensatedfor by the memories of the evening.     Hyrel chuckled. The situationstruck him as being funny: theshadowy self got drunk and had agood time, and the outer husk sufferedthe hangover in the morning.Strange. Strange how a device suchas the telporter suit could cause theshadow of each bodily cell to leavethe body, materialize, and becomea reality in its own right. Andyet ...   <doc-sep>    A grim tale of a future in which everyone is desperate to escapereality, and a hero who wants to have his wine and drink it, too.       A BOTTLE OF       Old Wine       By Richard O. Lewis     Illustrated by KELLY FREAS  <doc-sep>Arapoulous puffed on his cigar, looked worriedly at Retief. Our winecrop is our big money crop, he said. We make enough to keep us going.But this year....     The crop isn't panning out?     Oh, the crop's fine. One of the best I can remember. Course, I'm onlytwenty-eight; I can't remember but two other harvests. The problem'snot the crop.     Have you lost your markets? That sounds like a matter for theCommercial—     Lost our markets? Mister, nobody that ever tasted our wines eversettled for anything else!     It sounds like I've been missing something, said Retief. I'll haveto try them some time.     Arapoulous put his bundle on the desk, pulled off the wrappings. Notime like the present, he said.     Retief looked at the two squat bottles, one green, one amber, bothdusty, with faded labels, and blackened corks secured by wire.     Drinking on duty is frowned on in the Corps, Mr. Arapoulous, he said.     This isn't      drinking     . It's just wine. Arapoulous pulled the wireretainer loose, thumbed the cork. It rose slowly, then popped in theair. Arapoulous caught it. Aromatic fumes wafted from the bottle.Besides, my feelings would be hurt if you didn't join me. He winked.     Retief took two thin-walled glasses from a table beside the desk. Cometo think of it, we also have to be careful about violating quaintnative customs.     Arapoulous filled the glasses. Retief picked one up, sniffed the deeprust-colored fluid, tasted it, then took a healthy swallow. He lookedat Arapoulous thoughtfully.     Hmmm. It tastes like salted pecans, with an undercurrent of crustedport.     Don't try to describe it, Mr. Retief, Arapoulous said. He took amouthful of wine, swished it around his teeth, swallowed. It's Bacchuswine, that's all. Nothing like it in the Galaxy. He pushed the secondbottle toward Retief. The custom back home is to alternate red wineand black.  <doc-sep>The first contact Man had ever had with an intelligent alien raceoccurred out on the perimeter in a small quiet place a long way fromhome. Late in the year 2360—the exact date remains unknown—an alienforce attacked and destroyed the colony at Lupus V. The wreckage andthe dead were found by a mailship which flashed off screaming for thearmy.     When the army came it found this: Of the seventy registered colonists,thirty-one were dead. The rest, including some women and children,were missing. All technical equipment, all radios, guns, machines,even books, were also missing. The buildings had been burned, so werethe bodies. Apparently the aliens had a heat ray. What else they had,nobody knew. After a few days of walking around in the ash, one soldierfinally stumbled on something.     For security reasons, there was a detonator in one of the mainbuildings. In case of enemy attack, Security had provided a bomb to beburied in the center of each colony, because it was important to blowa whole village to hell and gone rather than let a hostile alien learnvital facts about human technology and body chemistry. There was a bombat Lupus V too, and though it had been detonated it had not blown. Thedetonating wire had been cut.     In the heart of the camp, hidden from view under twelve inches ofearth, the wire had been dug up and cut.     The army could not understand it and had no time to try. After fivehundred years of peace and anti-war conditioning the army was small,weak and without respect. Therefore, the army did nothing but spreadthe news, and Man began to fall back.     In a thickening, hastening stream he came back from the hard-wonstars, blowing up his homes behind him, stunned and cursing. Most ofthe colonists got out in time. A few, the farthest and loneliest, diedin fire before the army ships could reach them. And the men in thoseships, drinkers and gamblers and veterans of nothing, the dregs of asociety which had grown beyond them, were for a long while the onlydefense Earth had.     This was the message Captain Dylan had brought, come out from Earthwith a bottle on his hip.  <doc-sep>Inside the freighter's narrow corridor Grannie faced me with eyesfilled with excitement.     Billy-boy, she said, we've got two problems now. We've got to stopDoctor Universe, and we've got to find a way of getting out of here.Right now we're nicely bottled up.     As if in answer to her words the visi set revealed the face of the quizmaster on the screen. He was saying:           Remember tomorrow at this same hour I will have a message ofunparalleled importance for the people of the nine planets. Tomorrownight I urge you, I command you, to tune in.          With a whistling intake of breath the old woman turned to one of theVenusians.     Bring all our equipment in here, she ordered. Hurry!     She untied the ribbon under her chin and took off her cap. She rolledup her sleeves, and as the Venusians came marching into the space shipwith bundles of equipment, she fell to work.     Silently Ezra Karn and I watched her. First she completely dismantledthe visi set, put it together again with an entirely altered hookup.Next she unrolled a coil of flexible copper mesh which we had broughtalong as a protective electrical screening against the marsh insects.She fastened rubberite suction cups to this mesh at intervals of everytwelve inches or more, carried it down to the freighter's hold andfastened it securely against the stepto glass wall.     Trailing a three-ply conduit up from the hold to the corridor sheselected an induction coil, several Micro-Wellman tubes and a quantityof wire from a box of spare parts. Dexterously her fingers moved in andout, fashioning a complicated and curious piece of apparatus.     At length she finished.     It's pretty hay-wire, she said, but I think it will work. Now I'lltell you what I'm going to do. When Doctor Universe broadcasts tomorrownight, he's going to announce that he has set himself up as supremedictator. He'll have the Green Flame radiations coming from this shipunder full power. I'm going to insert into his broadcast—the laughingof the Varsoom!     You're going to what?     Broadcast the mass laughter from those invisible creatures out there.Visualize it, Billy-boy! At the dramatic moment when Doctor Universemakes his plea for System-wide power, he will be accompanied by wildpeals of laughter. The whole broadcast will be turned into a burlesque.     How you going to make 'em laugh? interrupted Karn.     We must think of a way, Grannie replied soberly.     I, for one, am glad that no representative of the InterstellarPsychiatry Society witnessed our antics during the early hours of thatmorning and on into the long reaches of the afternoon, as we vainlytried to provoke the laughter of the Varsoom. All to no avail. Uttersilence greeted our efforts. And the time was growing close to thescheduled Doctor Universe program.     Ezra Karn wiped a bead of perspiration from his brow. Maybe we've gotto attract their attention first, he suggested. Miss Flowers, whydon't you go up on the roof and read to 'em? Read 'em something fromone of your books, if you've got one along. That ought to make 'em situp and take notice.     For a moment the old woman gazed at him in silence. Then she got to herfeet quickly.     I'll do it, she said. I'll read them the attack scene from      MurderOn A Space Liner     .  <doc-sep>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>Forty miles to the south, Hap Arnold Field was a blaze of light. Theairmen tumbled out of their quarters and dayrooms at the screech ofthe alert siren, and behind them their wives and children stretchedand yawned and worried. An alert! The older kids fussed and complainedand their mothers shut them up. No, there wasn't any alert scheduledfor tonight; no, they didn't know where Daddy was going; no, the kidscouldn't get up yet—it was the middle of the night.     And as soon as they had the kids back in bed, most of the mothersstruggled into their own airwac uniforms and headed for the briefingarea to hear.     They caught the words from a distance—not quite correctly. Riot!gasped an aircraftswoman first-class, mother of three. The wipes! I      told     Charlie they'd get out of hand and—Alys, we aren't safe. Youknow how they are about GI women! I'm going right home and get a cluband stand right by the door and—     Club! snapped Alys, radarscope-sergeant, with two childrenquerulously awake in her nursery at home. What in God's name is theuse of a club? You can't hurt a wipe by hitting him on the head. You'dbetter come along to Supply with me and draw a gun—you'll need itbefore this night is over.     But the airmen themselves heard the briefing loud and clear over thescramble-call speakers, and they knew it was not merely a matter oftrouble in the wipe quarters. The Jug! The governor himself had calledthem out; they were to fly interdicting missions at such-and-suchlevels on such-and-such flight circuits around the prison.     The rockets took off on fountains of fire; and the jets took off with awhistling roar; and last of all, the helicopters took off ... and theywere the ones who might actually accomplish something. They took uptheir picket posts on the prison perimeter, a pilot and two bombardiersin each 'copter, stone-faced, staring grimly alert at the prison below.     They were ready for the breakout.     But there wasn't any breakout.     The rockets went home for fuel. The jets went home for fuel. Thehelicopters hung on—still ready, still waiting.     The rockets came back and roared harmlessly about, and went away again.They stayed away. The helicopter men never faltered and never relaxed.The prison below them was washed with light—from the guard posts onthe walls, from the cell blocks themselves, from the mobile lights ofthe guard squadrons surrounding the walls.     North of the prison, on the long, flat, damp developments of reclaimedland, the matchbox row houses of the clerical neighborhoods showedlights in every window as the figgers stood ready to repel invasionfrom their undesired neighbors to the east, the wipes. In the crowdedtenements of the laborers' quarters, the wipes shouted from window towindow; and there were crowds in the bright streets.     The whole bloody thing's going to blow up! a helicopter bombardieryelled bitterly to his pilot, above the flutter and roar of thewhirling blades. Look at the mobs in Greaserville! The first breakoutfrom the Jug's going to start a fight like you never saw and we'll beright in the middle of it!     He was partly right. He would be right in the middle of it—for everyman, woman and child in the city-state would be right in the middle ofit. There was no place anywhere that would be spared.      No mixing.     Thatwas the prescription that kept the city-state alive. There's no harm ina family fight—and aren't all mechanics a family, aren't all laborersa clan, aren't all clerks and office workers related by closer tiesthan blood or skin?     But the declassed cons of the Jug were the dregs of every class; andonce they spread, the neat compartmentation of society was pierced. Thebreakout would mean riot on a bigger scale than any prison had everknown.     But he was also partly wrong. Because the breakout wasn't seeming tocome.  <doc-sep>  He let the  thought runaround through his head, savoringit with mental taste buds.He would not kill her tonight. No,nor the next night. He would wait,wait until he had sucked the lastmeasure of pleasure from thethought.     It was like having a bottle ofrare old wine on a shelf where itcould be viewed daily. It was likebeing able to pause again andagain before the bottle, hold it upto the light, and say to it, Someday, when my desire for you hasreached the ultimate, I shall unstopperyou quietly and sip youslowly to the last soul-satisfyingdrop. As long as the bottle remainedthere upon the shelf it wassymbolic of that pleasurable moment....     He snapped out of his reverieand realized he had been wastingprecious moments. There would betime enough tomorrow for gloating.Tonight, there were otherthings to do. Pleasurable things.He remembered the girl he hadmet the night before, and smiledsmugly. Perhaps she would beawaiting him even now. If not,there would be another one....     He settled himself deeper intothe chair, glanced once more at hiswife, then let his head lean comfortablyback against the chair'sheadrest. His hand upon his thighfelt the thin mesh that cloaked hisbody beneath his clothing like asheer stocking. His fingers wentagain to the tiny switch. Again hehesitated.     Herbert Hyrel knew no moreabout the telporter suit he worethan he did about the radio in thecorner, the TV set against the wall,or the personalized telovis his wifewas wearing. You pressed one ofthe buttons on the radio; musiccame out. You pressed a buttonand clicked a dial on the TV;music and pictures came out. Youpressed a button and made an adjustmenton the telovis; three-dimensional,emotion-colored picturesleaped into the room. Youpressed a tiny switch on the telportersuit; you were whisked away toa receiving set you had previouslyset up in secret.     He knew that the music and theimages of the performers on theTV and telovis were brought to hisroom by some form of electrical impulseor wave while the actual musiciansand performers remained inthe studio. He knew that when hepressed the switch on his thighsomething within him—his ectoplasm,higher self, the thing spiritsuse for materialization, whateverits real name—streamed out of himalong an invisible channel, leavinghis body behind in the chair in aconscious but dream-like state. Hisother self materialized in a smallcabin in a hidden nook between ahighway and a river where he hadinstalled the receiving set a monthago.     He thought once more of the girlwho might be waiting for him,smiled, and pressed the switch.   <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the importance of the Riverside Club in both the story ""A Bottle of Old Wine"" and society as a whole?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in TIME IN THE ROUND? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>About half an hour later, the door he couldn't open slid aside into thewall. The man Maitland had seen outside, now clad in gray trunks andsandals, stood across the threshold looking in at him. Maitland stoodup and stared back, conscious suddenly that in his rumpled pajamas hemade an unimpressive figure.     The fellow looked about forty-five. The first details Maitland noticedwere the forehead, which was quite broad, and the calm, clear eyes.The dark hair, white at the temples, was combed back, still damp fromswimming. Below, there was a wide mouth and a firm, rounded chin.     This man was intelligent, Maitland decided, and extremely sure ofhimself.     Somehow, the face didn't go with the rest of him. The man had the headof a thinker, the body of a trained athlete—an unusual combination.     Impassively, the man said, My name is Swarts. You want to know whereyou are. I am not going to tell you. He had an accent, European, butotherwise unidentifiable. Possibly German. Maitland opened his mouthto protest, but Swarts went on, However, you're free to do all theguessing you want. Still there was no suggestion of a smile.     Now, these are the rules. You'll be here for about a week. You'll havethree meals a day, served in this room. You will not be allowed toleave it except when accompanied by myself. You will not be harmed inany way, provided you cooperate. And you can forget the silly idea thatwe want your childish secrets about rocket motors. Maitland's heartjumped. My reason for bringing you here is altogether different. Iwant to give you some psychological tests....     Are you crazy? Maitland asked quietly. Do you realize that at thismoment one of the greatest hunts in history must be going on? I'lladmit I'm baffled as to where we are and how you got me here—but itseems to me that you could have found someone less conspicuous to giveyour tests to.     Briefly, then, Swarts did smile. They won't find you, he said. Now,come with me.  <doc-sep>   HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS     By JIM HARMON     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Every lonely man tries to make friends.     Manet just didn't know when to stop!      William Manet was alone.     In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It wouldgive him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlateloneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take himto start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to beginteaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminablelectures to a bored and captive audience of one.     He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whetherit was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and asdirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal andthink more like a god than any man for generations.     But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearingbore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.     Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was alreadytalking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he hadcut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up andwinked at it whenever he passed that way.     Lately she was winking back at him.     Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh fromhis arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.     No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manetcould only be this lonely on Mars.     Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.     All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middleof the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat,flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in theblack sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moonsand one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The wholegimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one wasneeded here—no human being, at least.     The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn'ttake much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefullyspecified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycombMars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.     They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated peoplefor the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going toisolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manetand his fellows.     The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fareto Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuterservice for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodationsfor couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren'tproviding fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits betweenthe various Overseers. They weren't very providential.     But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offeredwonderful opportunities.     It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship makinga tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning asbright as envy.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>As if to provide an example, a figure suddenly materialized ontheir side of the bubble. The wolflike dogs bared their fangs. Foran instant, there was only an eerie, distorted, rapidly growingsilhouette, changing from blood-red to black as the boundary of thebubble cross-sectioned the intruding figure. Then they recognized theback of another long-haired warrior and realized that the audience onthe other side of the bubble had probably seen him approaching for sometime.     He bowed to the hooded figure and handed him a small bag.     More atavistic cubs, big and little! Hold still, Cynthia, a new voicecut in.     Hal turned and saw that two cold-eyed girls had been ushered into thecubicle. One was wiping her close-cropped hair with one hand whilemopping a green stain from her friend's back with the other.     Hal nudged Joggy and whispered: Butch!     But Joggy was still hypnotized by the Time Bubble.     Then how is it, Hal, he asked, that light comes out of the bubble,if the people don't? What I mean is, if one of the people walks towardus, he shrinks to a red blot and disappears. Why doesn't the lightcoming our way disappear, too?     Well—you see, Joggy, it isn't real light. It's—     Once more the interpreter helped him out.     The light that comes from the bubble is an isotope. Like atoms ofone element, photons of a single frequency also have isotopes. It'smore than a matter of polarization. One of these isotopes of lighttends to leak futureward through holes in space-time. Most of thelight goes down the vistas visible to the other side of the audience.But one isotope is diverted through the walls of the bubble into theTime Theater. Perhaps, because of the intense darkness of the theater,you haven't realized how dimly lit the scene is. That's because we'regetting only a single isotope of the original light. Incidentally, noisotopes have been discovered that leak pastward, though attempts arebeing made to synthesize them.     Oh, explanations! murmured one of the newly arrived girls. The cubsare always angling for them. Apple-polishers!           I     like this show, a familiar voice announced serenely. They cutanybody yet with those choppers?     Hal looked down beside him. Butch! How did you manage to get in?     I don't see any blood. Where's the bodies?     But how      did     you get in—Butcher?  <doc-sep>Joyce glared at him furiously. Four! Act your age! We've got to dosomething with him. It's preposterous that we should be detained hereat the whim of a mere blob!     I don't figure it's a whim, Grampa said. Circular gravity is whathe's got to have for one reason or another, so he just naturally bendsthe space-time continuum around him—conscious or subconscious, I don'tknow. But protoplasm is always more efficient than machines, so theflivver won't move.     I don't care why that thing does it, Joyce said icily. I want itstopped, and the sooner the better. If it won't turn the gravity off,we'll just have to do away with it.     How? asked Four. Fweep's skin is pretty close to impervious andyou can't shoot him, stab him or poison him. He doesn't breathe, soyou can't drown or strangle him. You can't imprison him; he 'eats'everything. And violence might be more dangerous to us than to him.Right now, Fweep is friendly, but suppose he got mad! He could lowerhis radioactive shield or he might increase the gravity by a few times.Either way, you'd feel rather uncomfortable, Grammy.     Don't call me 'Grammy!' Well, what are we going to do, just sit aroundand wait for that thing to die?     We'd have a long wait, Four observed. Fweep is the only one of hiskind on this planet.     Well?     Probably he's immortal.     And he doesn't reproduce? Reba asked sympathetically.     Probably not. If he doesn't die, there's no point in reproduction.Reproduction is nature's way of providing racial immortality to mortalcreatures.     But he must have some way of reproduction, Reba argued. An egg orsomething. He couldn't just have sprung into being as he is now.     Maybe he developed, Four offered. It seems to me that he's biggerthan when we first landed. He must have been here a long, long time,Fred said. Fweepland, as Four calls it, kept its atmosphere and itswater, which a planet this size ordinarily would have lost by now.  <doc-sep>The first contact Man had ever had with an intelligent alien raceoccurred out on the perimeter in a small quiet place a long way fromhome. Late in the year 2360—the exact date remains unknown—an alienforce attacked and destroyed the colony at Lupus V. The wreckage andthe dead were found by a mailship which flashed off screaming for thearmy.     When the army came it found this: Of the seventy registered colonists,thirty-one were dead. The rest, including some women and children,were missing. All technical equipment, all radios, guns, machines,even books, were also missing. The buildings had been burned, so werethe bodies. Apparently the aliens had a heat ray. What else they had,nobody knew. After a few days of walking around in the ash, one soldierfinally stumbled on something.     For security reasons, there was a detonator in one of the mainbuildings. In case of enemy attack, Security had provided a bomb to beburied in the center of each colony, because it was important to blowa whole village to hell and gone rather than let a hostile alien learnvital facts about human technology and body chemistry. There was a bombat Lupus V too, and though it had been detonated it had not blown. Thedetonating wire had been cut.     In the heart of the camp, hidden from view under twelve inches ofearth, the wire had been dug up and cut.     The army could not understand it and had no time to try. After fivehundred years of peace and anti-war conditioning the army was small,weak and without respect. Therefore, the army did nothing but spreadthe news, and Man began to fall back.     In a thickening, hastening stream he came back from the hard-wonstars, blowing up his homes behind him, stunned and cursing. Most ofthe colonists got out in time. A few, the farthest and loneliest, diedin fire before the army ships could reach them. And the men in thoseships, drinkers and gamblers and veterans of nothing, the dregs of asociety which had grown beyond them, were for a long while the onlydefense Earth had.     This was the message Captain Dylan had brought, come out from Earthwith a bottle on his hip.  <doc-sep>I really haven't the time to waste talking irrelevancies, Swarts saida while later. Honestly. Maitland, I'm working against a time limit.If you'll cooperate, I'll tell Ching to answer your questions.'     Ching?     Ingrid Ching is the girl who has been bringing you your meals.     Maitland considered a moment, then nodded. Swarts lowered the projectorto his eyes again, and this time the engineer did not resist.     That evening, he could hardly wait for her to come. Too excited to sitand watch the sunset, he paced interminably about the room, sometimeswhistling nervously, snapping his fingers, sitting down and jitteringone leg. After a while he noticed that he was whistling the same themeover and over: a minute's thought identified it as that exuberantmounting phrase which recurs in the finale of Beethoven's NinthSymphony.     He forgot about it and went on whistling. He was picturing himselfaboard a ship dropping in toward Mars, making planetfall at SyrtisMajor; he was seeing visions of Venus and the awesome beauty of Saturn.In his mind, he circled the Moon, and viewed the Earth as a huge brightglobe against the constellations....     Finally the door slid aside and she appeared, carrying the usual trayof food. She smiled at him, making dimples in her golden skin andrevealing a perfect set of teeth, and put the tray on the table.     I think you are wonderful, she laughed. You get everything youwant, even from Swarts, and I have not been able to get even a littleof what I want from him. I want to travel in time, go back to your 20thCentury. And I wanted to talk with you, and he would not let me. Shelaughed again, hands on her rounded hips. I have never seen him soirritated as he was this noon.     Maitland urged her into the chair and sat down on the edge of the bed.Eagerly he asked, Why the devil do you want to go to the 20th Century?Believe me, I've been there, and what I've seen of this world looks alot better.     She shrugged. Swarts says that I want to go back to the Dark Age ofTechnology because I have not adapted well to modern culture. Myself,I think I have just a romantic nature. Far times and places look moreexciting....     How do you mean— Maitland wrinkled his brow—adapt to modernculture? Don't tell me      you're     from another time!     Oh, no! But my home is Aresund, a little fishing village at the headof a fiord in what you would call Norway. So far north, we are muchbehind the times. We live in the old way, from the sea, speak the oldtongue.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in TIME IN THE ROUND?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the significance of Hal's character in the story TIME IN THE ROUND? [SEP] <s>Sometimes the men seemed to speak together, or one would rise to peerdown the misty forest vistas, but mostly they were motionless. Onlythe hooded figure, which they seemed to regard with a mingled wonderand fear, swayed incessantly to the rhythm of some unheard chant.     The Time Bubble has been brought to rest in one of the barbariccultures of the Dawn Era, a soft voice explained, so casually thatJoggy looked around for the speaker, until Hal nudged him sharply,whispering with barely perceptible embarrassment: Don't do that,Joggy. It's just the electronic interpreter. It senses our developmentand hears our questions and then it automats background and answers.But it's no more alive than an adolescer or a kinderobot. Got a billionmicrotapes, though.     The interpreter continued: The skin-clad men we are viewing in Timein the Round seem to be a group of warriors of the sort who livedby pillage and rapine. The hooded figure is a most unusual find. Webelieve it to be that of a sorcerer who pretended to control the forcesof nature and see into the future.     Joggy whispered: How is it that we can't see the audience through theother side of the bubble? We can see through this side, all right.     The bubble only shines light out, Hal told him hurriedly, to show heknew some things as well as the interpreter. Nothing, not even light,can get into the bubble from outside. The audience on the other side ofthe bubble sees into it just as we do, only they're seeing the otherway—for instance, they can't see the fire because the tree is in theway. And instead of seeing us beyond, they see more trees and sky.     Joggy nodded. You mean that whatever way you look at the bubble, it'sa kind of hole through time?     That's right. Hal cleared his throat and recited: The bubble is thelocus of an infinite number of one-way holes, all centering around twopoints in space-time, one now and one then. The bubble looks completelyopen, but if you tried to step inside, you'd be stopped—and so wouldan atom beam. It takes more energy than an atom beam just to maintainthe bubble, let alone maneuver it.     I see, I guess, Joggy whispered. But if the hole works for light,why can't the people inside the bubble step out of it into our world?     Why—er—you see, Joggy—     The interpreter took over. The holes are one-way for light, but no-wayfor matter. If one of the individuals inside the bubble walked towardyou, he would cross-section and disappear. But to the audience on theopposite side of the bubble, it would be obvious that he had walkedaway along the vista down which they are peering.  <doc-sep>He kicked Brute in the face. The dog squirmed joyously at his feet.     Look, Joggy said, you wouldn't hurt an uninj, for instance, wouldyou?     How can you hurt something that's uninjurable? the Butcher demandedscathingly. An uninj isn't really a dog. It's just a lot of circuitsand a micropack bedded in hyperplastic. He looked at Brute withguarded wistfulness.     I don't know about that, Hal put in. I've heard an uninj isprogrammed with so many genuine canine reactions that it practicallyhas racial memory.     I mean if you      could     hurt an uninj, Joggy amended.     Well, maybe I wouldn't, the Butcher admitted grudgingly. But shutup—I want to think.     About what? Hal asked with saintly reasonableness.     The Butcher achieved a fearful frown. When I'm World Director, hesaid slowly, I'm going to have warfare again.     You think so now, Hal told him. We all do at your age.     We do not, the Butcher retorted. I bet      you     didn't.     Oh, yes, I was foolish, too, the older boy confessed readily. Allnewborn organisms are self-centered and inconsiderate and ruthless.They have to be. That's why we have uninjes to work out on, and deathgames and fear houses, so that our emotions are cleared for adultconditioning. And it's just the same with newborn civilizations. Why,long after atom power and the space drive were discovered, peoplekept having wars and revolutions. It took ages to condition themdifferently. Of course, you can't appreciate it this year, but Man'sgreatest achievement was when he learned to automatically reject allviolent solutions to problems. You'll realize that when you're older.     I will not! the Butcher countered hotly. I'm not going to be asissy. Hal and Joggy blinked at the unfamiliar word. And what if wewere attacked by bloodthirsty monsters from outside the Solar System?     The Space Fleet would take care of them, Hal replied calmly. That'swhat it's for. Adults aren't conditioned to reject violent solutions toproblems where non-human enemies are concerned. Look at what we did toviruses.     But what if somebody got at us through the Time Bubble?     They can't. It's impossible.     Yes, but suppose they did all the same.     You've never been inside the Time Theater—you're not old enoughyet—so you just can't know anything about it or about the reasonswhy it's impossible, Hal replied with friendly factuality. The TimeBubble is just a viewer. You can only look through it, and just intothe past, at that. But you can't travel through it because you can'tchange the past. Time traveling is a lot of kid stuff.     I don't care, the Butcher asserted obstinately. I'm still going tohave warfare when I'm World Director.     They'll condition you out of the idea, Hal assured him.     They will not. I won't let 'em.     It doesn't matter what you think now, Hal said with finality. You'llhave an altogether different opinion when you're six.     Well, what if I will? the Butcher snapped back. You don't have tokeep      telling     me about it, do you?  <doc-sep>Hal looked back. Honestly, the usher will stop you.     The Butcher shook his head. I'm going to think my way in. I'm going tothink old.     You won't be able to fool the usher, Butcher. You under-fivessimply aren't allowed in the Time Theater. There's a good reason forit—something dangerous might happen if an under-five got inside.     Why?     I don't exactly know, but something.     Hah! I bet they're scared we'd go traveling in the Time Bubble andhave some excitement.     They are not. I guess they just know you'd get bored and wander awayfrom your seats and maybe disturb the adults or upset the electronicsor something. But don't worry about it, Butcher. The usher will takecare of you.     Shut up—I'm thinking I'm World Director, the Butcher informed them,contorting his face diabolically.     Hal spoke to the uninjes, pointing to the side of the corridor.Obediently four of them lined up.     But Brute was peering down the corridor toward where it merged into adeeper darkness. His short legs stiffened, his neckless head seemed toretreat even further between his powerful shoulders, his lips writhedback to show his gleaming fangs, and a completely unfamiliar soundissued from his throat. A choked, grating sound. A growl. The otheruninjes moved uneasily.     Do you suppose something's the matter with his circuits? Joggywhispered. Maybe he's getting racial memories from the Scands.     Of course not, Hal said irritably.     Brute, get over there, the Butcher commanded. Unwillingly, eyes stillfixed on the blackness ahead, Brute obeyed.     The three boys started on. Hal and Joggy experienced a vaguelyelectrical tingling that vanished almost immediately. They looked back.The Butcher had been stopped by an invisible wall.     I told you you couldn't fool the usher, Hal said.     The Butcher hurled himself forward. The wall gave a little, thenbounced him back with equal force.     I bet it'll be a bum time view anyway, the Butcher said, not givingup, but not trying again. And I still don't think the usher can tellhow old you are. I bet there's an over-age teacher spying on youthrough a hole, and if he doesn't like your looks, he switches on theusher.  <doc-sep>It was really a more tiring method of transportation than walkingand quite useless against the wind. True, by rocking the repulsorhemisphere backward, you could get a brief forward push, but it wouldbe nullified when you rocked forward. A slow swimming stroke was thesimplest way to make progress.     The general sensation, however, was delightful and levitators wereamong the most prized of toys.     There's the Theater, Joggy announced.     I      know     , the Butcher said irritably.     But even he sounded a little solemn and subdued. From the Great Rampto the topmost airy finial, the Time Theater was the dream of a godrealized in unearthly substance. It imparted the aura of demigods tothe adults drifting up and down the ramp.     My father remembers when there wasn't a Time Theater, Hal said softlyas he scanned the facade's glowing charts and maps. Say, they'reviewing Earth, somewhere in Scandinavia around zero in the B.C.-A.D.time scale. It should be interesting.     Will it be about Napoleon? the Butcher asked eagerly. Or Hitler? Ared-headed adult heard and smiled and paused to watch. A lock of hairhad fallen down the middle of the Butcher's forehead, and as he satJoggy like a charger, he did bear a faint resemblance to one of thegrim little egomaniacs of the Dawn Era.     Wrong millennium, Hal said.     Tamerlane then? the Butcher pressed. He killed cities and piled theskulls. Blood-bath stuff. Oh, yes, and Tamerlane was a Scand of theNavies.     Hal looked puzzled and then quickly erased the expression. Well, evenif it is about Tamerlane, you can't see it. How about it, Joggy?     They won't let me in, either.     Yes, they will. You're five years old now.     But I don't feel any older, Joggy replied doubtfully.     The feeling comes at six. Don't worry, the usher will notice thedifference.     Hal and Joggy switched off their levitators and dropped to theirfeet. The Butcher came down rather hard, twisting an ankle. He openedhis mouth to cry, then abruptly closed it hard, bearing his pain intight-lipped silence like an ancient soldier—like Stalin, maybe, hethought. The red-headed adult's face twitched in half-humorous sympathy.     Hal and Joggy mounted the Ramp and entered a twilit corridor whichdrank their faint footsteps and returned pulses of light. The Butcherlimped manfully after them, but when he got inside, he forgot hisbattle injury.  <doc-sep>The gray uninj let go his hold on the leader's ankle and scamperedout of the Time Bubble, which swiftly dimmed to its original lightintensity and then winked out.     For once in their very mature lives, all of the adults in theauditorium began to jabber at each other simultaneously.     We are sorry, but the anomaly has made it necessary to collapse theTime Bubble, the interpreter said. There will be no viewing untilfurther announcement. Thank you for your patience.     Hal and Joggy caught up with the Butcher just as Brute jumped into hisarms and the woman in gold picked him up and hugged him fiercely. TheButcher started to pull away, then grudgingly submitted.     Cubs! came a small cold voice from behind Hal and Joggy. Alwaysplaying hero! Say, what's that awful smell, Cynthia? It must have comefrom those dirty past men.     Hal and Joggy were shouting at the Butcher, but he wasn't listeningto them or to the older voices clamoring about revised theories ofreality and other important things. He didn't even squirm as Brutelicked his cheek and the woman in gold planted a big kiss practicallyon his mouth.     He smiled dreamily and stroked Brute's muzzle and murmured softly: Wecame, we saw, we conquered, didn't we, Brute?   <doc-sep>The Butcher replied airily: A red-headed man talked to me and said itcertainly was sad for a future dictator not to be able to enjoy scenesof carnage in his youth, so I told him I'd been inside the Time Theaterand just come out to get a drink of water and go to the eliminator, butthen my sprained ankle had got worse—I kind of tried to get up andfell down again—so he picked me up and carried me right through theusher.     Butcher, that wasn't honest, Hal said a little worriedly. Youtricked him into thinking you were older and his brain waves blanketedyours, going through the usher. I really      have     heard it's dangerousfor you under-fives to be in here.     The way those cubs beg for babying and get it! one of the girlscommented. Talk about sex favoritism! She and her companion withdrewto the far end of the cubicle.     The Butcher grinned at them briefly and concentrated his attention onthe scene in the Time Bubble.     Those big dogs— he began suddenly. Brute must have smelled 'em.     Don't be silly, Hal said. Smells can't come out of the Time Bubble.Smells haven't any isotopes and—     I don't care, the Butcher asserted. I bet somebody'll figure outsomeday how to use the bubble for time traveling.     You can't travel in a point of view, Hal contradicted, and that'sall the bubble is. Besides, some scientists think the bubble isn't realat all, but a—uh—     I believe, the interpreter cut in smoothly, that you're thinkingof the theory that the Time Bubble operates by hypermemory. Somescientists would have us believe that all memory is time traveling andthat the basic location of the bubble is not space-time at all, butever-present eternity. Some of them go so far as to state that it isonly a mental inability that prevents the Time Bubble from being usedfor time traveling—just as it may be a similar disability that keepsa robot with the same or even more scopeful memories from being a realman or animal.     It is because of this minority theory that under-age individuals andother beings with impulsive mentalities are barred from the TimeTheater. But do not be alarmed. Even if the minority theory shouldprove true—and no evidence for it has ever appeared—there areautomatically operating safeguards to protect the audience from anyharmful consequences of time traveling (almost certainly impossible,remember) in either direction.     Sissies! was the Butcher's comment.  <doc-sep>As if to provide an example, a figure suddenly materialized ontheir side of the bubble. The wolflike dogs bared their fangs. Foran instant, there was only an eerie, distorted, rapidly growingsilhouette, changing from blood-red to black as the boundary of thebubble cross-sectioned the intruding figure. Then they recognized theback of another long-haired warrior and realized that the audience onthe other side of the bubble had probably seen him approaching for sometime.     He bowed to the hooded figure and handed him a small bag.     More atavistic cubs, big and little! Hold still, Cynthia, a new voicecut in.     Hal turned and saw that two cold-eyed girls had been ushered into thecubicle. One was wiping her close-cropped hair with one hand whilemopping a green stain from her friend's back with the other.     Hal nudged Joggy and whispered: Butch!     But Joggy was still hypnotized by the Time Bubble.     Then how is it, Hal, he asked, that light comes out of the bubble,if the people don't? What I mean is, if one of the people walks towardus, he shrinks to a red blot and disappears. Why doesn't the lightcoming our way disappear, too?     Well—you see, Joggy, it isn't real light. It's—     Once more the interpreter helped him out.     The light that comes from the bubble is an isotope. Like atoms ofone element, photons of a single frequency also have isotopes. It'smore than a matter of polarization. One of these isotopes of lighttends to leak futureward through holes in space-time. Most of thelight goes down the vistas visible to the other side of the audience.But one isotope is diverted through the walls of the bubble into theTime Theater. Perhaps, because of the intense darkness of the theater,you haven't realized how dimly lit the scene is. That's because we'regetting only a single isotope of the original light. Incidentally, noisotopes have been discovered that leak pastward, though attempts arebeing made to synthesize them.     Oh, explanations! murmured one of the newly arrived girls. The cubsare always angling for them. Apple-polishers!           I     like this show, a familiar voice announced serenely. They cutanybody yet with those choppers?     Hal looked down beside him. Butch! How did you manage to get in?     I don't see any blood. Where's the bodies?     But how      did     you get in—Butcher?  <doc-sep>The others were silent. Joggy began to bounce up and down abstractedlyon the resilient pavement. Hal called in his three uninjes and saidin soothing tones: Joggy and I are going to swim over to the TimeTheater. Want to walk us there, Butch?     Butch scowled.     How about it, Butch?     Still Butch did not seem to hear.     The older boy shrugged and said: Oh, well, how about it—Butcher?     The Butcher swung around. They won't let me in the Time Theater. Yousaid so yourself.     You could walk us over there.     Well, maybe I will and maybe I won't.     While you're deciding, we'll get swimming. Come along, Joggy.     Still scowling, the Butcher took a white soapy crayon from the bulgingpocket in his silver shorts. Pressed into the pavement, it made ablack mark. He scrawled pensively: KEEP ON THE GRASS.     He gazed at his handiwork. No, darn it, that was just what grownupswanted you to do. This grass couldn't be hurt. You couldn't pull it upor tear it off; it hurt your fingers to try. A rub with the side of thecrayon removed the sign. He thought for a moment, then wrote: KEEP OFFTHE GRASS.     With an untroubled countenance, he sprang up and hurried after theothers.     Joggy and the older boy were swimming lazily through the air atshoulder height. In the pavement directly under each of them was awide, saucer-shaped depression which swam along with them. The uninjesavoided the depressions. Darter was strutting on his hind legs, lookingup inquiringly at his master.     Gimme a ride, Hal, gimme a ride! the Butcher called. The older boyignored him. Aw, gimme a ride, Joggy.     Oh, all right. Joggy touched the small box attached to the front ofhis broad metal harness and dropped lightly to the ground. The Butcherclimbed on his back. There was a moment of rocking and pitching, duringwhich each boy accused the other of trying to upset them.     Then the Butcher got his balance and they began to swim alongsecurely, though at a level several inches lower. Brute sprang up afterhis master and was invisibly rebuffed. He retired baffled, but a fewminutes later, he was amusing himself by furious futile efforts toclimb the hemispherical repulsor field.     Slowly the little cavalcade of boys and uninjes proceeded down theAvenue of Wisdom. Hal amused himself by stroking toward a tree. When hewas about four feet from it, he was gently bounced away.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the significance of Hal's character in the story TIME IN THE ROUND?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How does technology impact the society depicted in TIME IN THE ROUND? [SEP] <s>The Movement met in what had been the children's room, where unpaidladies of the afternoon had once upon a time read stories to otherpeople's offspring. The members sat around at the miniature tableslooking oddly like giants fled from their fairy tales, protesting.     Where did the old society fail? the leader was demanding of them. Hestood in the center of the room, leaning on a heavy knobbed cane. Heglanced around at the group almost complacently, and waited as HumphreyFownes squeezed into an empty chair. We live in a dome, the leadersaid, for lack of something. An invention! What is the one thingthat the great technological societies before ours could not invent,notwithstanding their various giant brains, electronic and otherwise?     Fownes was the kind of man who never answered a rhetorical question. Hewaited, uncomfortable in the tight chair, while the others struggledwith this problem in revolutionary dialectics.           A sound foreign policy     , the leader said, aware that no one else hadobtained the insight. If a sound foreign policy can't be created theonly alternative is not to have any foreign policy at all. Thus themovement into domes began—      by common consent of the governments     . Thisis known as self-containment.     Dialectically out in left field, Humphrey Fownes waited for a lullin the ensuing discussion and then politely inquired how it might bearranged for him to get out.     Out? the leader said, frowning. Out? Out where?     Outside the dome.     Oh. All in good time, my friend. One day we shall all pick up andleave.     And that day I'll await impatiently, Fownes replied with marveloustact, because it will be lonely out there for the two of us. My futurewife and I have to leave      now     .     Nonsense. Ridiculous! You have to be prepared for the Open Country.You can't just up and leave, it would be suicide, Fownes. Anddialectically very poor.     Then you      have     discussed preparations, the practical necessities oflife in the Open Country. Food, clothing, a weapon perhaps? What else?Have I left anything out?     The leader sighed. The gentleman wants to know if he's left anythingout, he said to the group.     Fownes looked around at them, at some dozen pained expressions.     Tell the man what he's forgotten, the leader said, walking to the farwindow and turning his back quite pointedly on them.     Everyone spoke at the same moment.       A sound foreign policy     , they allsaid, it being almost too obvious for words.  <doc-sep>The first contact Man had ever had with an intelligent alien raceoccurred out on the perimeter in a small quiet place a long way fromhome. Late in the year 2360—the exact date remains unknown—an alienforce attacked and destroyed the colony at Lupus V. The wreckage andthe dead were found by a mailship which flashed off screaming for thearmy.     When the army came it found this: Of the seventy registered colonists,thirty-one were dead. The rest, including some women and children,were missing. All technical equipment, all radios, guns, machines,even books, were also missing. The buildings had been burned, so werethe bodies. Apparently the aliens had a heat ray. What else they had,nobody knew. After a few days of walking around in the ash, one soldierfinally stumbled on something.     For security reasons, there was a detonator in one of the mainbuildings. In case of enemy attack, Security had provided a bomb to beburied in the center of each colony, because it was important to blowa whole village to hell and gone rather than let a hostile alien learnvital facts about human technology and body chemistry. There was a bombat Lupus V too, and though it had been detonated it had not blown. Thedetonating wire had been cut.     In the heart of the camp, hidden from view under twelve inches ofearth, the wire had been dug up and cut.     The army could not understand it and had no time to try. After fivehundred years of peace and anti-war conditioning the army was small,weak and without respect. Therefore, the army did nothing but spreadthe news, and Man began to fall back.     In a thickening, hastening stream he came back from the hard-wonstars, blowing up his homes behind him, stunned and cursing. Most ofthe colonists got out in time. A few, the farthest and loneliest, diedin fire before the army ships could reach them. And the men in thoseships, drinkers and gamblers and veterans of nothing, the dregs of asociety which had grown beyond them, were for a long while the onlydefense Earth had.     This was the message Captain Dylan had brought, come out from Earthwith a bottle on his hip.  <doc-sep>I really haven't the time to waste talking irrelevancies, Swarts saida while later. Honestly. Maitland, I'm working against a time limit.If you'll cooperate, I'll tell Ching to answer your questions.'     Ching?     Ingrid Ching is the girl who has been bringing you your meals.     Maitland considered a moment, then nodded. Swarts lowered the projectorto his eyes again, and this time the engineer did not resist.     That evening, he could hardly wait for her to come. Too excited to sitand watch the sunset, he paced interminably about the room, sometimeswhistling nervously, snapping his fingers, sitting down and jitteringone leg. After a while he noticed that he was whistling the same themeover and over: a minute's thought identified it as that exuberantmounting phrase which recurs in the finale of Beethoven's NinthSymphony.     He forgot about it and went on whistling. He was picturing himselfaboard a ship dropping in toward Mars, making planetfall at SyrtisMajor; he was seeing visions of Venus and the awesome beauty of Saturn.In his mind, he circled the Moon, and viewed the Earth as a huge brightglobe against the constellations....     Finally the door slid aside and she appeared, carrying the usual trayof food. She smiled at him, making dimples in her golden skin andrevealing a perfect set of teeth, and put the tray on the table.     I think you are wonderful, she laughed. You get everything youwant, even from Swarts, and I have not been able to get even a littleof what I want from him. I want to travel in time, go back to your 20thCentury. And I wanted to talk with you, and he would not let me. Shelaughed again, hands on her rounded hips. I have never seen him soirritated as he was this noon.     Maitland urged her into the chair and sat down on the edge of the bed.Eagerly he asked, Why the devil do you want to go to the 20th Century?Believe me, I've been there, and what I've seen of this world looks alot better.     She shrugged. Swarts says that I want to go back to the Dark Age ofTechnology because I have not adapted well to modern culture. Myself,I think I have just a romantic nature. Far times and places look moreexciting....     How do you mean— Maitland wrinkled his brow—adapt to modernculture? Don't tell me      you're     from another time!     Oh, no! But my home is Aresund, a little fishing village at the headof a fiord in what you would call Norway. So far north, we are muchbehind the times. We live in the old way, from the sea, speak the oldtongue.  <doc-sep>At the guard's yell, the inmates jumped to their feet.     Bradley was a little slow getting off the edge of the steel-slatbed—nobody had warned her that the eddy currents in the tangler fieldshad a way of making metal smoke-hot. She gasped but didn't cry out.Score one more painful lesson in her new language course. She rubbedthe backs of her thighs gingerly—and slowly, slowly, for the eddycurrents did not permit you to move fast. It was like pushing againstrubber; the faster you tried to move, the greater the resistance.     The guard peered genially into her cell. You're okay, auntie. Sheproudly ignored him as he slogged deliberately away on his rounds.He didn't have to untie her and practically stand over her whileshe attended to various personal matters, as he did with the maleprisoners. It was not much to be grateful for, but Sue-Ann Bradley wasgrateful. At least she didn't have to live      quite     like a fig—like anunderprivileged clerk, she told herself, conscience-stricken.     Across the hall, the guard was saying irritably: What the hell'sthe matter with you? He opened the door of the cell with anasbestos-handled key held in a canvas glove.     Flock was in that cell and he was doubled over.     The guard looked at him doubtfully. It could be a trick, maybe.Couldn't it? But he could see Flock's face and the agony in it was realenough. And Flock was gasping, through real tears: Cramps. I—I—     Ah, you wipes always got a pain in the gut. The guard lumbered aroundFlock to the draw-strings at the back of the jacket. Funny smell inhere, he told himself—not for the first time. And imagine, some peopledidn't believe that wipes had a smell of their own! But this time, herealized cloudily, it was a rather unusual smell. Something burning.Almost like meat scorching.     It wasn't pleasant. He finished untying Flock and turned away; let thestinking wipe take care of his own troubles. He only had ten minutes toget all the way around Block O and the inmates complained like crazy ifhe didn't make sure they all got the most possible free time. He waspretty good at snowshoeing through the tangler field. He was a littlevain about it, even; at times he had been known to boast of his abilityto make the rounds in two minutes, every time.     Every time but this.     For Flock moaned behind him, oddly close.     The guard turned, but not quickly enough. There wasFlock—astonishingly, he was half out of his jacket; his arms hadn'tbeen in the sleeves at all! And in one of the hands, incredibly, therewas something that glinted and smoked.     All right, croaked Flock, tears trickling out of eyes nearly shutwith pain.     But it wasn't the tears that held the guard; it was the shining,smoking thing, now poised at his throat. A shiv! It looked as thoughit had been made out of a bed-spring, ripped loose from its frame Godknows how, hidden inside the greensleeved jacket God knows how—filed,filed to sharpness over endless hours.     No wonder Flock moaned—the eddy currents in the shiv were slowlycooking his hand; and the blister against his abdomen, where the shivhad been hidden during other rest periods, felt like raw acid.       All right, whispered Flock, just walk out the door and you won't gethurt. Unless the other screw makes trouble, you won't get hurt, so tellhim not to, you hear?     He was nearly fainting with the pain.     But he hadn't let go.     He didn't let go. And he didn't stop.      IV     It was Flock on the phone to the warden—Flock with his eyes stillstreaming tears, Flock with Sauer standing right behind him, menacingthe two bound deck guards.     Sauer shoved Flock out of the way. Hey, Warden! he said, and thevoice was a cheerful bray, though the serpent eyes were cold andhating. Warden, you got to get a medic in here. My boy Flock, he hurthimself real bad and he needs a doctor. He gestured playfully at theguards with the shiv. I tell you, Warden. I got this knife and I gotyour guards here. Enough said? So get a medic in here quick, you hear?     And he snapped the connection.     O'Leary said: Warden, I told you I smelled trouble!     The warden lifted his head, glared, started feebly to speak, hesitated,and picked up the long-distance phone. He said sadly to the prisonoperator: Get me the governor—fast.       Riot!       The word spread out from the prison on seven-league boots.     It snatched the city governor out of a friendly game of Senioritywith his manager and their wives—and just when he was holding thePorkbarrel Joker concealed in the hole.     It broke up the Base Championship Scramble Finals at Hap Arnold Fieldto the south, as half the contestants had to scramble in earnest to aRed Alert that was real.     It reached to police precinct houses and TV newsrooms and highwaycheckpoints, and from there it filtered into the homes and lives of thenineteen million persons that lived within a few dozen miles of the Jug.     Riot. And yet fewer than half a dozen men were involved.     A handful of men, and the enormous bulk of the city-state quivered inevery limb and class. In its ten million homes, in its hundreds ofthousands of public places, the city-state's people shook under theimpact of the news from the prison.     For the news touched them where their fears lay. Riot! And not merelya street brawl among roistering wipes, or a bar-room fight of greasersrelaxing from a hard day at the plant. The riot was down among thecorrupt sludge that underlay the state itself. Wipes brawled with wipesand no one cared; but in the Jug, all classes were cast together.  <doc-sep>He looked at her golden features, such a felicitous blend ofOriental and European characteristics, and hesitantly asked, MaybeI shouldn't.... This is a little personal, but ... you don't lookaltogether like the Norwegians of my time.     His fear that she would be offended proved to be completelyunjustified. She merely laughed and said, There has been muchhistory since 1950. Five hundred years ago, Europe was overrun byPan-Orientals. Today you could not find anywhere a 'pure' Europeanor Asiatic. She giggled. Swarts' ancestors from your time must becursing in their graves. His family is Afrikander all the way back, butone of his great-grandfathers was pure-blooded Bantu. His full name isLassisi Swarts.     Maitland wrinkled his brow. Afrikander?     The South Africans. Something strange came into her eyes. It mighthave been awe, or even hatred; he could not tell. The Pan-Orientalseventually conquered all the world, except for North America—thelast remnant of the American World Empire—and southern Africa. TheAfrikanders had been partly isolated for several centuries then, andthey had developed technology while the rest of the world lost it. Theyhad a tradition of white supremacy, and in addition they were terrifiedof being encircled. She sighed. They ruled the next world empire andit was founded on the slaughter of one and a half billion human beings.That went into the history books as the War of Annihilation.     So many? How?     They were clever with machines, the Afrikanders. They made armiesof them. Armies of invincible killing-machines, produced in robotfactories from robot-mined ores.... Very clever. She gave a littleshudder.     And yet they founded modern civilization, she added. The grandsonsof the technicians who built the Machine Army set up our robotproduction system, and today no human being has to dirty his handsraising food or manufacturing things. It could never have been done,either, before the population was—reduced to three hundred million.     Then the Afrikanders are still on top? Still the masters?  <doc-sep>Martin was never left alone for a minute. He wasn't allowed to playwith the other kids in the new neighborhood. Not that their parentswould have let them, anyway. The adults obviously figured that ifa one-car family hired private tutors for their kid, there must besomething pretty wrong with him. So Martin and Ninian were just asconspicuous as before. But he didn't tip her off. She was grown up; shewas supposed to know better than he did.     He lived well. He had food to eat that he'd never dreamed of before,warm clothes that no one had ever worn before him. He was surrounded bymore luxury than he knew what to do with.     The furniture was the latest New Grand Rapids African modern. Therewere tidy, colorful Picasso and Braque prints on the walls. And everyinch of the floor was modestly covered by carpeting, though the wallswere mostly unabashed glass. There were hot water and heat all the timeand a freezer well stocked with food—somewhat erratically chosen, forNinian didn't know much about meals.     The non-glass part of the house was of neat, natural-toned wood, with aneat green lawn in front and a neat parti-colored garden in back.     Martin missed the old neighborhood, though. He missed having otherkids to play with. He even missed his mother. Sure, she hadn't givenhim enough to eat and she'd beaten him up so hard sometimes that she'dnearly killed him—but then there had also been times when she'd huggedand kissed him and soaked his collar with her tears. She'd done allshe could for him, supporting him in the only way she knew how—and ifrespectable society didn't like it, the hell with respectable society.     From Ninian and her cousins, there was only an impersonal kindness.They made no bones about the fact that they were there only to carryout a rather unpleasant duty. Though they were in the house with him,in their minds and in their talk they were living in another world—aworld of warmth and peace and plenty where nobody worked, except in thegovernment service or the essential professions. And they seemed tothink even that kind of job was pretty low-class, though better thanactually doing anything with the hands.     In their world, Martin came to understand, nobody worked with hands;everything was done by machinery. All the people ever did was wearpretty clothes and have good times and eat all they wanted. There wasno devastation, no war, no unhappiness, none of the concomitants ofnormal living.     It was then that Martin began to realize that either the whole lot ofthem were insane, or what Ninian had told him at first was the truth.They came from the future.  <doc-sep>   The Snare     By RICHARD R. SMITH     Illustrated by WEISS     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy January 1956.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright     on this publication was renewed.]        It's easy to find a solution when there is one—the trick is to do itif there is none!        I glanced at the path we had made across the      Mare Serenitatis     . TheLatin translated as the Sea of Serenity. It was well named because,as far as the eye could see in every direction, there was a smoothlayer of pumice that resembled the surface of a calm sea. Scatteredacross the quiet sea of virgin Moon dust were occasional islandsof rock that jutted abruptly toward the infinity of stars above.Considering everything, our surroundings conveyed a sense of serenitylike none I had ever felt.     Our bounding path across the level expanse was clearly marked. Becauseof the light gravity, we had leaped high into the air with each stepand every time we struck the ground, the impact had raised a cloud ofdustlike pumice. Now the clouds of dust were slowly settling in thelight gravity.     Above us, the stars were cold, motionless and crystal-clear.Indifferently, they sprayed a faint light on our surroundings ... adim glow that was hardly sufficient for normal vision and was too weakto be reflected toward Earth.     We turned our head-lamps on the strange object before us. Five beamsof light illuminated the smooth shape that protruded from the Moon'ssurface.     The incongruity was so awesome that for several minutes, we remainedmotionless and quiet. Miller broke the silence with his quaveringvoice, Strange someone didn't notice it before.  <doc-sep>Bbulas slid the ornate headdress over his antennae, which, alreadygilded and jeweled, at once seemed to become a part of it. He lookedpretty damn silly, Skkiru thought, at the same time conscious of hisown appearance—which was, although picturesque enough to delightromantic Terrestrial hearts, sufficiently wretched to charm the mosthardened sadist.     Hurry up, Skkiru, Bbulas said. They mustn't suspect the existence ofthe city underground or we're finished before we've started.     For my part, I wish we'd never started, Skkiru grumbled. What waswrong with our old culture, anyway?     That was intended as a rhetorical question, but Bbulas answered itanyway. He always answered questions; it had never seemed to penetratehis mind that school-days were long since over.     I've told you a thousand times that our old culture was too much likethe Terrans' own to be of interest to them, he said, with affectedweariness. After all, most civilized societies are basically similar;it is only primitive societies that differ sharply, one from theother—and we have to be different to attract Earthmen. They're prettychoosy. You've got to give them what they want, and that's what theywant. Now take up your post on the edge of the field, try to lookhungry, and remember this isn't for you or for me, but for Snaddra.     For Snaddra, Larhgan said, placing her hand over her anterior heartin a gesture which, though devout on Earth—or so the fictapes seemedto indicate—was obscene on Snaddra, owing to the fact that certainessential organs were located in different areas in the Snaddrath thanin the corresponding Terrestrial life-form. Already the Terrestrialinfluence was corrupting her, Skkiru thought mournfully. She had beensuch a nice girl, too.     We may never meet on equal terms again, Skkiru, she told him, with along, soulful glance that made his hearts sink down to his quiveringtoes, but I promise you there will never be anyone else for me—andI hope that knowledge will inspire you to complete cooperation withBbulas.     If that doesn't, Bbulas said, I have other methods of inspiration.     All right, Skkiru answered sulkily. I'll go to the edge of thefield, and I'll speak broken Inter-galactic, and I'll forsake my normalhabits and customs, and I'll even      beg     . But I don't have to like doingit, and I don't intend to like doing it.     All three of Larhgan's eyes fuzzed with emotion. I'm proud of you,Skkiru, she said brokenly.     Bbulas sniffed. The three of them floated up to ground level in atriple silence.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How does technology impact the society depicted in TIME IN THE ROUND?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the societal structure depicted in TIME IN THE ROUND? [SEP] <s>Scribney, whose large, phlegmatic person and calm professorial brainwere the complete antithesis of Harper's picked-crow physique andscheming financier's wits, looked severely over his glasses. Harp'snervous tribulations were beginning to bore him, as well as interferewith the harmony of his home.     You're away behind the times, Harp, he declared. Don't you knowthat those have proved to be the most astoundingly curative springsever discovered anywhere? Don't you know that a syndicate has builtthe largest extra-terrestial hotel of the solar system there and thatpeople are flocking to it to get cured of whatever ails 'em? Old man,you missed a bet!     Leaping from the sofa, Harper rudely snatched the magazine fromScribney's hands. He glared at the spread which depicted a star-shapedstructure of bottle-green glass resting jewel-like on the rufous rockof Mars. The main portion of the building consisted of a circularskyscraper with a glass-domed roof. Between its star-shaped annexes,other domes covered landscaped gardens and noxious pools which in thedrawing looked lovely and enticing.     Why, I remember now! exclaimed Bella. That's where the Durants wenttwo years ago! He was about dead and she looked like a hag. They cameback in wonderful shape. Don't you remember, Scrib?     Dutifully Scribney remembered and commented on the change the Martiansprings had effected in the Durants. It's the very thing for you,Harp, he advised. You'd get a good rest on the way out. This gasthey use in the rockets nowadays is as good as a rest-cure; it sort offloats you along the time-track in a pleasant daze, they tell me. Andyou can finish the cure at the hotel while looking it over. And notonly that. Confidentially he leaned toward his insignificant lookingbrother-in-law. The chemists over at Dade McCann have just isolated anenzyme from one species of Martian fungus that breaks down crude oilinto its components without the need for chemical processing. There's afortune waiting for the man who corners that fungus market and learnsto process the stuff!     Scribney had gauged his victim's mental processes accurately. Themagazine sagged in Harp's hands, and his sharp eyes became shrewd andcalculating. He even forgot to twitch. Maybe you're right, Scrib, heacknowledged. Combine a rest-cure with business, eh?     Raising the magazine, he began reading the advertisement. And thatwas when he saw the line about the robots. —the only hotel staffedentirely with robot servants—     Robots! he shrilled. You mean they've developed the things to thatpoint? Why hasn't somebody told me? I'll have Jackson's hide! I'lldisfranchise him! I'll—     Harp! exploded Bella. Stop it! Maybe Jackson doesn't know a thingabout it, whatever it is! If it's something at the Emerald Star Hotel,why don't you just go and find out for yourself instead of throwing atantrum? That's the only sensible way!     You're right, Bella, agreed Harper incisively. I'll go and find outfor myself. Immediately! Scooping up his hat, he left at his usuallope.     Well! remarked his sister. All I can say is that they'd better turnthat happy-gas on extra strong for Harp's trip out!  <doc-sep>He looked at himself in the mirror and found he had a fine new body;tall and strikingly handsome in a dark, coarse-featured way. Nothing tomatch the one he had lost, in his opinion, but there were probably manypeople who might find this one preferable. No identification in thepockets, but it wasn't necessary; he recognized the face. Not that itwas a very famous or even notorious one, but the dutchman was a carefulstudent of the wanted fax that had decorated public buildings fromtime immemorial, for he was ever mindful of the possibility that hemight one day find himself trapped unwittingly in the body of one ofthe men depicted there. And he knew that this particular man, thoughnot an important criminal in any sense of the word, was one whom thepolice had been ordered to burn on sight. The abolishing of capitalpunishment could not abolish the necessity for self-defense, and theman in question was not one who would let himself be captured easily,nor whom the police intended to capture easily.       This might be a lucky break for me after all     , the new tenant thought,as he tried to adjust himself to the body. It, too, despite its obviousrude health, was not a very comfortable fit.      I can do a lot with ahulk like this. And maybe I'm cleverer than the original owner; maybeI'll be able to get away with it.        IV     Look, Gabe, the girl said, don't try to fool me! I know youtoo well. And I know you have that man's—the real GabrielLockard's—body. She put unnecessary stardust on her nose as shewatched her husband's reflection in the dressing table mirror.     Lockard—Lockard's body, at any rate—sat up and felt his unshavenchin. That what he tell you?     No, he didn't tell me anything really—just suggested I ask youwhatever I want to know. But why else should he guard somebody heobviously hates the way he hates you? Only because he doesn't want tosee his body spoiled.     It      is     a pretty good body, isn't it? Gabe flexed softening musclesand made no attempt to deny her charge; very probably he was relievedat having someone with whom to share his secret.     Not as good as it must have been, the girl said, turning and lookingat him without admiration. Not if you keep on the way you're coursing.Gabe, why don't you...?     Give it back to him, eh? Lockard regarded his wife appraisingly.You'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd be      his     wife then. That would benice—a sound mind in a sound body. But don't you think that's a littlemore than you deserve?     I wasn't thinking about that, Gabe, she said truthfully enough, forshe hadn't followed the idea to its logical conclusion. Of course I'dgo with you, she went on, now knowing she lied, when you got your ...old body back.       Sure     , she thought,      I'd keep going with you to farjeen houses andthrill-mills.     Actually she had accompanied him to a thrill-mill onlyonce, and from then on, despite all his threats, she had refused to gowith him again. But that once had been enough; nothing could ever washthat experience from her mind or her body.     You wouldn't be able to get your old body back, though, would you?she went on. You don't know where it's gone, and neither, I suppose,does he?     I don't want to know! he spat. I wouldn't want it if I could getit back. Whoever it adhered to probably killed himself as soon as helooked in a mirror. He swung long legs over the side of his bed.Christ, anything would be better than that! You can't imagine what ahulk I had!     Oh, yes, I can, she said incautiously. You must have had a body tomatch your character. Pity you could only change one.  <doc-sep>What do you      do     ? Steffens asked.     Elb replied quickly, with characteristic simplicity: We can do verylittle. A certain amount of physical knowledge was imparted to us atbirth by the Makers. We spend the main part of our time expanding thatknowledge wherever possible. We have made some progress in the naturalsciences, and some in mathematics. Our purpose in being, you see, isto serve the Makers. Any ability we can acquire will make us that muchmore fit to serve when the Makers return.     When they return? It had not occurred to Steffens until now that therobots expected the Makers to do so.     Elb regarded him out of the band of the circling eye. I see you hadsurmised that the Makers were not coming back.     If the robot could have laughed, Steffens thought it would have, then.But it just stood there, motionless, its tone politely emphatic.     It has always been our belief that the Makers would return. Why elsewould we have been built?     Steffens thought the robot would go on, but it didn't. The question, toElb, was no question at all.     Although Steffens knew already what the robot could not possibly haveknown—that the Makers were gone and would never come back—he was along time understanding. What he did was push this speculation into theback of his mind, to keep it from Elb. He had no desire to destroy afaith.     But it created a problem in him. He had begun to picture for Elb thestructure of human society, and the robot—a machine which did not eator sleep—listened gravely and tried to understand. One day Steffensmentioned God.     God? the robot repeated without comprehension. What is God?     Steffens explained briefly, and the robot answered:     It is a matter which has troubled us. We thought at first that youwere the Makers returning— Steffens remembered the brief lapse, theseeming disappointment he had sensed—but then we probed your mindsand found that you were not, that you were another kind of being,unlike either the Makers or ourselves. You were not even— Elb caughthimself—you did not happen to be telepaths. Therefore we troubledover who made you. We did detect the word 'Maker' in your theology,but it seemed to have a peculiar— Elb paused for a long while—anuntouchable, intangible meaning which varies among you.     Steffens understood. He nodded.     The Makers were the robots' God, were all the God they needed. TheMakers had built them, the planet, the universe. If he were to ask themwho made the Makers, it would be like their asking him who made God.     It was an ironic parallel, and he smiled to himself.     But on that planet, it was the last time he smiled.  <doc-sep>Hesitantly, Dan moved to the carrier. The bluff was all right up to apoint—but the point had just about been reached. He took his seat.Blote moved a lever. The familiar blue glow sprang up. Kindly directme, Dan, Blote demanded. Two twenty-one Maple Street, I believe yousaid.     I don't know the town very well, Dan said, but Maple's over thatway.     Blote worked levers. The carrier shot out into a ghostly afternoon sky.Faint outlines of buildings, like faded negatives, spread below. Danlooked around, spotted lettering on a square five-story structure.     Over there, he said. Blote directed the machine as it swoopedsmoothly toward the flat roof Dan indicated.     Better let me take over now, Dan suggested. I want to be sure toget us to the right place.     Very well, Dan.     Dan dropped the carrier through the roof, passed down through a dimlyseen office. Blote twiddled a small knob. The scene around the cagegrew even fainter. Best we remain unnoticed, he explained.     The cage descended steadily. Dan peered out, searching for identifyinglandmarks. He leveled off at the second floor, cruised along a barelyvisible corridor. Blote's eyes rolled, studying the small chambersalong both sides of the passage at once.     Ah, this must be the assembly area, he exclaimed. I see the machinesemploy a bar-type construction, not unlike our carriers.     That's right, Dan said, staring through the haziness. This is wherethey do time.... He tugged at a lever suddenly; the machine veeredleft, flickered through a barred door, came to a halt. Two nebulousfigures loomed beside the cage. Dan cut the switch. If he'd guessedwrong—     The scene fluoresced, sparks crackling, then popped into sharp focus.Blote scrambled out, brown eyes swivelling to take in the concretewalls, the barred door and—     You! a hoarse voice bellowed.     Grab him! someone yelled.     Blote recoiled, threshing his ambulatory members in a fruitless attemptto regain the carrier as Manny and Fiorello closed in. Dan hauled at alever. He caught a last glimpse of three struggling, blue-lit figuresas the carrier shot away through the cell wall.      III     Dan slumped back against the seat with a sigh. Now that he was in theclear, he would have to decide on his next move—fast. There was notelling what other resources Blote might have. He would have to hidethe carrier, then—     A low growling was coming from somewhere, rising in pitch and volume.Dan sat up, alarmed. This was no time for a malfunction.     The sound rose higher, into a penetrating wail. There was no sign ofmechanical trouble. The carrier glided on, swooping now over a nebulouslandscape of trees and houses. Dan covered his ears against thedeafening shriek, like all the police sirens in town blaring at once.If the carrier stopped it would be a long fall from here. Dan workedthe controls, dropping toward the distant earth.     The noise seemed to lessen, descending the scale. Dan slowed, broughtthe carrier in to the corner of a wide park. He dropped the last fewinches and cut the switch.     As the glow died, the siren faded into silence.     Dan stepped from the carrier and looked around. Whatever the noisewas, it hadn't attracted any attention from the scattered pedestriansin the park. Perhaps it was some sort of burglar alarm. But if so, whyhadn't it gone into action earlier? Dan took a deep breath. Sound or nosound, he would have to get back into the carrier and transfer it to asecluded spot where he could study it at leisure. He stepped back in,reached for the controls—     There was a sudden chill in the air. The bright surface of the dialsbefore him frosted over. There was a loud      pop!     like a flashbulbexploding. Dan stared from the seat at an iridescent rectanglewhich hung suspended near the carrier. Its surface rippled, fadedto blankness. In a swirl of frosty air, a tall figure dressed in atight-fitting white uniform stepped through.     Dan gaped at the small rounded head, the dark-skinned long-nosed face,the long, muscular arms, the hands, their backs tufted with curlyred-brown hair, the strange long-heeled feet in soft boots. A neatpillbox cap with a short visor was strapped low over the deep-setyellowish eyes, which turned in his direction. The wide mouth opened ina smile which showed square yellowish teeth.           Alors, monsieur     , the new-comer said, bending his knees and back ina quick bow.       Vous ete une indigine, n'est ce pas?          No compree, Dan choked out Uh ... juh no parlay Fransay....     My error. This is the Anglic colonial sector, isn't it? Stupid of me.Permit me to introduce myself. I'm Dzhackoon, Field Agent of Classfive, Inter-dimensional Monitor Service.     That siren, Dan said. Was that you?     Dzhackoon nodded. For a moment, it appeared you were disinclined tostop. I'm glad you decided to be reasonable.     What outfit did you say you were with? Dan asked.     The Inter-dimensional Monitor Service.     Inter-what?     Dimensional. The word is imprecise, of course, but it's the best ourlanguage coder can do, using the Anglic vocabulary.     What do you want with me?  <doc-sep>I really haven't the time to waste talking irrelevancies, Swarts saida while later. Honestly. Maitland, I'm working against a time limit.If you'll cooperate, I'll tell Ching to answer your questions.'     Ching?     Ingrid Ching is the girl who has been bringing you your meals.     Maitland considered a moment, then nodded. Swarts lowered the projectorto his eyes again, and this time the engineer did not resist.     That evening, he could hardly wait for her to come. Too excited to sitand watch the sunset, he paced interminably about the room, sometimeswhistling nervously, snapping his fingers, sitting down and jitteringone leg. After a while he noticed that he was whistling the same themeover and over: a minute's thought identified it as that exuberantmounting phrase which recurs in the finale of Beethoven's NinthSymphony.     He forgot about it and went on whistling. He was picturing himselfaboard a ship dropping in toward Mars, making planetfall at SyrtisMajor; he was seeing visions of Venus and the awesome beauty of Saturn.In his mind, he circled the Moon, and viewed the Earth as a huge brightglobe against the constellations....     Finally the door slid aside and she appeared, carrying the usual trayof food. She smiled at him, making dimples in her golden skin andrevealing a perfect set of teeth, and put the tray on the table.     I think you are wonderful, she laughed. You get everything youwant, even from Swarts, and I have not been able to get even a littleof what I want from him. I want to travel in time, go back to your 20thCentury. And I wanted to talk with you, and he would not let me. Shelaughed again, hands on her rounded hips. I have never seen him soirritated as he was this noon.     Maitland urged her into the chair and sat down on the edge of the bed.Eagerly he asked, Why the devil do you want to go to the 20th Century?Believe me, I've been there, and what I've seen of this world looks alot better.     She shrugged. Swarts says that I want to go back to the Dark Age ofTechnology because I have not adapted well to modern culture. Myself,I think I have just a romantic nature. Far times and places look moreexciting....     How do you mean— Maitland wrinkled his brow—adapt to modernculture? Don't tell me      you're     from another time!     Oh, no! But my home is Aresund, a little fishing village at the headof a fiord in what you would call Norway. So far north, we are muchbehind the times. We live in the old way, from the sea, speak the oldtongue.  <doc-sep>Hatcher hurried through the halls of the great buried structure inwhich he worked, toward the place where the supervising council of allprobes would be in permanent session. They admitted him at once.     Hatcher identified himself and gave a quick, concise report:     The subject recovered consciousness a short time ago and began toinspect his enclosure. His method of doing so was to put his ownmembers in physical contact with the various objects in the enclosure.After observing him do this for a time we concluded he might be unableto see and so we illuminated his field of vision for him.     This appeared to work well for a time. He seemed relativelyundisturbed. However, he then reverted to physical-contact,manipulating certain appurtenances of an artificial skin we hadprovided for him.     He then began to vibrate the atmosphere by means of resonating organsin his breathing passage.     Simultaneously, the object he was holding, attached to the artificialskin, was discovered to be generating paranormal forces.     The supervising council rocked with excitement. You're sure? demandedone of the councilmen.     Yes, sir. The staff is preparing a technical description of the forcesnow, but I can say that they are electromagnetic vibrations modulatinga carrier wave of very high speed, and in turn modulated by thevibrations of the atmosphere caused by the subject's own breathing.     Fantastic, breathed the councillor, in a tone of dawning hope. Howabout communicating with him, Hatcher? Any progress?     Well ... not much, sir. He suddenly panicked. We don't know why; butwe thought we'd better pull back and let him recover for a while.     The council conferred among itself for a moment, Hatcher waiting. Itwas not really a waste of time for him; with the organs he had left inthe probe-team room, he was in fairly close touch with what was goingon—knew that McCray was once again fumbling among the objects in thedark, knew that the team-members had tried illuminating the room forhim briefly and again produced the rising panic.     Still, Hatcher fretted. He wanted to get back.     Stop fidgeting, commanded the council leader abruptly. Hatcher, youare to establish communication at once.     But, sir.... Hatcher swung closer, his thick skin quivering slightly;he would have gestured if he had brought members with him to gesturewith. We've done everything we dare. We've made the place homeyfor him— actually, what he said was more like,      we've warmed thebiophysical nuances of his enclosure     —and tried to guess his needs;and we're frightening him half to death. We      can't     go faster. Thiscreature is in no way similar to us, you know. He relies on paranormalforces—heat, light, kinetic energy—for his life. His chemistry is notours, his processes of thought are not ours, his entire organism iscloser to the inanimate rocks of a sea-bottom than to ourselves.     Understood, Hatcher. In your first report you stated these creatureswere intelligent.     Yes, sir. But not in our way.     But in      a     way, and you must learn that way. I know. One lobster-clawshaped member drifted close to the councillor's body and raised itselfin an admonitory gesture. You want time. But we don't have time,Hatcher. Yours is not the only probe team working. The Central Massesteam has just turned in a most alarming report.     Have they secured a subject? Hatcher demanded jealously.     The councillor paused. Worse than that, Hatcher. I am afraid theirsubjects have secured one of them. One of them is missing.     There was a moment's silence. Frozen, Hatcher could only wait. Thecouncil room was like a tableau in a museum until the councillor spokeagain, each council member poised over his locus-point, his membersdrifting about him.     Finally the councillor said, I speak for all of us, I think. If theOld Ones have seized one of our probers our time margin is considerablynarrowed. Indeed, we may not have any time at all. You must doeverything you can to establish communication with your subject.     But the danger to the specimen— Hatcher protested automatically.     —is no greater, said the councillor, than the danger to every oneof us if we do not find allies      now     .  <doc-sep>He was so smug and so sure, this snowbird. I hated him. Because Icouldn't trust to my own senses as he did.     You don't exist, I said slowly, painfully. You are fictionalcreations.     The doctor flushed darkly. You give my literary agent too much creditfor the addition of professional polish to my works.     The other man was filling a large, curved pipe from something thatlooked vaguely like an ice-skate. Interesting. Perhaps if our visitorwould tell us something of his age with special reference to the theoryand practice of temporal transference, Doctor, we would be betterequipped to judge whether we exist.     There was no theory or practice of time travel. I told them all I hadever heard theorized from Hindu yoga through Extra-sensory Perceptionto Relativity and the positron and negatron.     Interesting. He breathed out suffocating black clouds of smoke.Presume that the people of your time by their 'Extra-sensoryPerception' have altered the past to make it as they suppose it to be.The great historical figures are made the larger than life-size that weknow them. The great literary creations assume reality.     I thought of Cleopatra and Helen of Troy and wondered if they would bethe goddesses of love that people imagined or the scrawny, big-nosedredhead and fading old woman of scholarship. Then I noticed thedetective's hand that had been resting idly on a round brass weight ofunknown sort to me. His tapered fingertips had indented the metal.     His bright eyes followed mine and he smiled faintly. Withdrawalsymptoms.     The admiration and affection for this man that had been slowly buildingup behind my hatred unbrinked. I remembered now that he had stopped. Hewas not      really     a snowbird.     After a time, I asked the doctor a question.     Why, yes. I'm flattered. This is the first manuscript. Considering myprofessional handwriting, I recopied it more laboriously.       Accepting the sheaf of papers and not looking back at these two greatand good men, I concentrated on my own time and Doc. Nothing happened.My heart raced, but I saw something dancing before me like a dust motein sunlight and stepped toward it....     ... into the effective range of Miss Casey's tiny gun.  <doc-sep>Ben Curtis had no precise sensation of awakening. Return toconsciousness was an intangible evolution from a world of blacknothingness to a dream-like state of awareness.     He felt the pressure of hands on his naked arms and shoulders,hands that massaged, manipulated, fought to restore circulation andsensitivity. He knew they were strong hands. Their strength seemed totransfer itself to his own body.     For a long time, he tried to open his eyes. His lids felt weldedshut. But after a while, they opened. His world of darkness gave wayto a translucent cloak of mist. A round, featureless shape hoveredconstantly above him—a face, he supposed.     He tried to talk. Although his lips moved slightly, the only sound wasa deep, staccato grunting.     But he heard someone say, Don't try to talk. It was the same gentlevoice he'd heard in the Blast Inn. Don't talk. Just lie still andrest. Everything'll be all right.       Everything all right     , he thought dimly.     There were long periods of lethargy when he was aware of nothing. Therewere periods of light and of darkness. Gradually he grew aware ofthings. He realized that the soft rubber mouth of a spaceman's oxygenmask was clamped over his nose. He felt the heat of electric blanketsswathed about his body. Occasionally a tube would be in his mouth andhe would taste liquid food and feel a pleasant warmth in his stomach.     Always, it seemed, the face was above him, floating in the obscuringmist. Always, it seemed, the soft voice was echoing in his ears:     Swallow this now. That's it. You must have food. Or, Close youreyes. Don't strain. It won't be long. You're getting better.       Better     , he'd think.      Getting better....       At last, after one of the periods of lethargy, his eyes opened. Themist brightened, then dissolved.     He beheld the cracked, unpainted ceiling of a small room, its colorlesswalls broken with a single, round window. He saw the footboard of hisaluminite bed and the outlines of his feet beneath a faded blanket.     Finally he saw the face and figure that stood at his side.     You are better? the kind voice asked.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the societal structure depicted in TIME IN THE ROUND?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the meaning of ""pre-civilization"" in the story TIME IN THE ROUND? [SEP] <s>   TIME IN THE ROUND     By FRITZ LEIBER     Illustrated by DILLON     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction May 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Poor Butcher suffered more than any dictator       in history: everybody gave in to him because       he was so puny and they were so impregnable!        From the other end of the Avenue of Wisdom that led across the PeacePark, a gray, hairless, heavily built dog was barking soundlessly atthe towering crystal glory of the Time Theater. For a moment, theeffect was almost frightening: a silent picture of the beginning ofcivilization challenging the end of it. Then a small boy caught upwith the dog and it rolled over enthusiastically at his feet and thescene was normal again.     The small boy, however, seemed definitely pre-civilization. He studiedthe dog coldly and then inserted a thin metal tube under its eyelid andpoked. The dog wagged its stumpy tail. The boy frowned, tightened hisgrip on the tube and jabbed hard. The dog's tail thumped the cushionypavement and the four paws beat the air. The boy shortened his gripand suddenly jabbed the dog several times in the stomach. The stifftube rebounded from the gray, hairless hide. The dog's face split in anupside-down grin, revealing formidable ivory fangs across which a longblack tongue lolled.     The boy regarded the tongue speculatively and pocketed the metal tubewith a grimace of utter disgust. He did not look up when someonecalled: Hi, Butch! Sic 'em, Darter, sic 'em!     A larger small boy and a somewhat older one were approaching across theluxurious, neatly cropped grass, preceded by a hurtling shape that,except for a black hide, was a replica of Butch's gray dog.     Butch shrugged his shoulders resignedly and said in a bored voice:Kill 'em, Brute.  <doc-sep>The warriors inside the bubble stared in stupid astonishment after theone who had disappeared from their view. The sorcerer leaped about,pushing them in his direction.     Abrupt light flooded the Time Theater. The warriors who had emergedfrom the bubble stiffened themselves, baring their teeth.     The safeguards are now energized, the interpreter said.     A woman in a short golden tunic stood up uncertainly from the front rowof the audience.     The first warrior looked her up and down, took one hesitant stepforward, then another, then suddenly grabbed her and flung her over hisleft shoulder, looking around menacingly and swinging his sword in hisright hand.     I repeat, the safeguards have been fully energized! Keep your seats!the interpreter enjoined.     In the cubicle, Hal and Joggy gasped, the two girls squeaked, but theButcher yelled a Hey! of disapproval, snatched up something from thefloor and darted out through the sphincter.     Here and there in the audience, other adults stood up. The emergedwarriors formed a ring of swinging swords and questing eyes. Betweentheir legs their wolfish dogs, emerged with them, crouched and snarled.Then the warriors began to fan out.     There has been an unavoidable delay in energizing the safeguards, theinterpreter said. Please be patient.     At that moment, the Butcher entered the main auditorium, brandishing alevitator above his head and striding purposefully down the aisle. Athis heels, five stocky forms trotted. In a definitely pre-civilizationvoice, or at least with pre-civilization volume, he bellowed: Hey,you! You quit that!     The first warrior looked toward him, gave his left shoulder a shake toquiet his wriggling captive, gave his right shoulder one to supple hissword arm, and waited until the dwarfish challenger came into range.Then his sword swished down in a flashing arc.     Next moment, the Butcher was on his knees and the warrior was staringat him open-mouthed. The sword had rebounded from something invisiblean arm's length above the gnomelike creature's head. The warrior backeda step.       The Butcher stayed down, crouching half behind an aisle seat anddigging for something in his pocket. But he didn't stay quiet. Sic'em, Brute! he shrilled. Sic 'em, Darter! Sic 'em, Pinkie and Whitieand Blue! Then he stopped shouting and raised his hand to his mouth.  <doc-sep>I really haven't the time to waste talking irrelevancies, Swarts saida while later. Honestly. Maitland, I'm working against a time limit.If you'll cooperate, I'll tell Ching to answer your questions.'     Ching?     Ingrid Ching is the girl who has been bringing you your meals.     Maitland considered a moment, then nodded. Swarts lowered the projectorto his eyes again, and this time the engineer did not resist.     That evening, he could hardly wait for her to come. Too excited to sitand watch the sunset, he paced interminably about the room, sometimeswhistling nervously, snapping his fingers, sitting down and jitteringone leg. After a while he noticed that he was whistling the same themeover and over: a minute's thought identified it as that exuberantmounting phrase which recurs in the finale of Beethoven's NinthSymphony.     He forgot about it and went on whistling. He was picturing himselfaboard a ship dropping in toward Mars, making planetfall at SyrtisMajor; he was seeing visions of Venus and the awesome beauty of Saturn.In his mind, he circled the Moon, and viewed the Earth as a huge brightglobe against the constellations....     Finally the door slid aside and she appeared, carrying the usual trayof food. She smiled at him, making dimples in her golden skin andrevealing a perfect set of teeth, and put the tray on the table.     I think you are wonderful, she laughed. You get everything youwant, even from Swarts, and I have not been able to get even a littleof what I want from him. I want to travel in time, go back to your 20thCentury. And I wanted to talk with you, and he would not let me. Shelaughed again, hands on her rounded hips. I have never seen him soirritated as he was this noon.     Maitland urged her into the chair and sat down on the edge of the bed.Eagerly he asked, Why the devil do you want to go to the 20th Century?Believe me, I've been there, and what I've seen of this world looks alot better.     She shrugged. Swarts says that I want to go back to the Dark Age ofTechnology because I have not adapted well to modern culture. Myself,I think I have just a romantic nature. Far times and places look moreexciting....     How do you mean— Maitland wrinkled his brow—adapt to modernculture? Don't tell me      you're     from another time!     Oh, no! But my home is Aresund, a little fishing village at the headof a fiord in what you would call Norway. So far north, we are muchbehind the times. We live in the old way, from the sea, speak the oldtongue.  <doc-sep>Sometimes the men seemed to speak together, or one would rise to peerdown the misty forest vistas, but mostly they were motionless. Onlythe hooded figure, which they seemed to regard with a mingled wonderand fear, swayed incessantly to the rhythm of some unheard chant.     The Time Bubble has been brought to rest in one of the barbariccultures of the Dawn Era, a soft voice explained, so casually thatJoggy looked around for the speaker, until Hal nudged him sharply,whispering with barely perceptible embarrassment: Don't do that,Joggy. It's just the electronic interpreter. It senses our developmentand hears our questions and then it automats background and answers.But it's no more alive than an adolescer or a kinderobot. Got a billionmicrotapes, though.     The interpreter continued: The skin-clad men we are viewing in Timein the Round seem to be a group of warriors of the sort who livedby pillage and rapine. The hooded figure is a most unusual find. Webelieve it to be that of a sorcerer who pretended to control the forcesof nature and see into the future.     Joggy whispered: How is it that we can't see the audience through theother side of the bubble? We can see through this side, all right.     The bubble only shines light out, Hal told him hurriedly, to show heknew some things as well as the interpreter. Nothing, not even light,can get into the bubble from outside. The audience on the other side ofthe bubble sees into it just as we do, only they're seeing the otherway—for instance, they can't see the fire because the tree is in theway. And instead of seeing us beyond, they see more trees and sky.     Joggy nodded. You mean that whatever way you look at the bubble, it'sa kind of hole through time?     That's right. Hal cleared his throat and recited: The bubble is thelocus of an infinite number of one-way holes, all centering around twopoints in space-time, one now and one then. The bubble looks completelyopen, but if you tried to step inside, you'd be stopped—and so wouldan atom beam. It takes more energy than an atom beam just to maintainthe bubble, let alone maneuver it.     I see, I guess, Joggy whispered. But if the hole works for light,why can't the people inside the bubble step out of it into our world?     Why—er—you see, Joggy—     The interpreter took over. The holes are one-way for light, but no-wayfor matter. If one of the individuals inside the bubble walked towardyou, he would cross-section and disappear. But to the audience on theopposite side of the bubble, it would be obvious that he had walkedaway along the vista down which they are peering.  <doc-sep>He was so smug and so sure, this snowbird. I hated him. Because Icouldn't trust to my own senses as he did.     You don't exist, I said slowly, painfully. You are fictionalcreations.     The doctor flushed darkly. You give my literary agent too much creditfor the addition of professional polish to my works.     The other man was filling a large, curved pipe from something thatlooked vaguely like an ice-skate. Interesting. Perhaps if our visitorwould tell us something of his age with special reference to the theoryand practice of temporal transference, Doctor, we would be betterequipped to judge whether we exist.     There was no theory or practice of time travel. I told them all I hadever heard theorized from Hindu yoga through Extra-sensory Perceptionto Relativity and the positron and negatron.     Interesting. He breathed out suffocating black clouds of smoke.Presume that the people of your time by their 'Extra-sensoryPerception' have altered the past to make it as they suppose it to be.The great historical figures are made the larger than life-size that weknow them. The great literary creations assume reality.     I thought of Cleopatra and Helen of Troy and wondered if they would bethe goddesses of love that people imagined or the scrawny, big-nosedredhead and fading old woman of scholarship. Then I noticed thedetective's hand that had been resting idly on a round brass weight ofunknown sort to me. His tapered fingertips had indented the metal.     His bright eyes followed mine and he smiled faintly. Withdrawalsymptoms.     The admiration and affection for this man that had been slowly buildingup behind my hatred unbrinked. I remembered now that he had stopped. Hewas not      really     a snowbird.     After a time, I asked the doctor a question.     Why, yes. I'm flattered. This is the first manuscript. Considering myprofessional handwriting, I recopied it more laboriously.       Accepting the sheaf of papers and not looking back at these two greatand good men, I concentrated on my own time and Doc. Nothing happened.My heart raced, but I saw something dancing before me like a dust motein sunlight and stepped toward it....     ... into the effective range of Miss Casey's tiny gun.  <doc-sep>Ben Curtis had no precise sensation of awakening. Return toconsciousness was an intangible evolution from a world of blacknothingness to a dream-like state of awareness.     He felt the pressure of hands on his naked arms and shoulders,hands that massaged, manipulated, fought to restore circulation andsensitivity. He knew they were strong hands. Their strength seemed totransfer itself to his own body.     For a long time, he tried to open his eyes. His lids felt weldedshut. But after a while, they opened. His world of darkness gave wayto a translucent cloak of mist. A round, featureless shape hoveredconstantly above him—a face, he supposed.     He tried to talk. Although his lips moved slightly, the only sound wasa deep, staccato grunting.     But he heard someone say, Don't try to talk. It was the same gentlevoice he'd heard in the Blast Inn. Don't talk. Just lie still andrest. Everything'll be all right.       Everything all right     , he thought dimly.     There were long periods of lethargy when he was aware of nothing. Therewere periods of light and of darkness. Gradually he grew aware ofthings. He realized that the soft rubber mouth of a spaceman's oxygenmask was clamped over his nose. He felt the heat of electric blanketsswathed about his body. Occasionally a tube would be in his mouth andhe would taste liquid food and feel a pleasant warmth in his stomach.     Always, it seemed, the face was above him, floating in the obscuringmist. Always, it seemed, the soft voice was echoing in his ears:     Swallow this now. That's it. You must have food. Or, Close youreyes. Don't strain. It won't be long. You're getting better.       Better     , he'd think.      Getting better....       At last, after one of the periods of lethargy, his eyes opened. Themist brightened, then dissolved.     He beheld the cracked, unpainted ceiling of a small room, its colorlesswalls broken with a single, round window. He saw the footboard of hisaluminite bed and the outlines of his feet beneath a faded blanket.     Finally he saw the face and figure that stood at his side.     You are better? the kind voice asked.  <doc-sep>I'd like to get a look at you, he said.     The girl laughed self-consciously. It's getting gray out. You'll seeme soon enough.     But she'd see      him     , Roddie realized. He had to talk fast.     What'll we do when it's light? he asked.     Well, I guess the boats have gone, Ida said. You could swim theGate, I guess—you seem tall and strong enough. But I couldn't. You'llthink it's crazy, but I've given this some thought, and even looked itover from the other side. I expect to try the Golden Gate Bridge!     Now he was getting somewhere! The bridge was ruined, impassable. Evenher own people had crossed the Strait by other means. But if there      were     a way over the bridge....     It's broken, he said. How in the world can we cross it?     Oh, you'll find out, if you take me up there. I—I don't want to bealone, Roddie. Will you go with me? Now?     Well, she could be made to point out the route before he killedher—      if     nothing happened when she saw him.     Uneasy, Roddie hefted the hammer in his hand.     A giggle broke the pause. It's nice of you to wait and let me go firstup the ladder, the girl said. But where the heck is the rusty oldthing?     I'll go first, said Roddie. He might need the advantage. Theladder's right behind me.     He climbed with hammer in teeth, and stretched his left hand fromstreet level to grasp and neutralize the girl's right. Then, nervouslyfingering his weapon, he stared at her in the thin gray dawn.     She was short and lean, except for roundnesses here and there. From hershapeless doeskin dress stretched slender legs that tapered to feetthat were bare, tiny, and, like her hands, only two in number.     Roddie was pleased. They were evenly matched as to members, and thatwould make things easy when the time came.     He looked into her face. It smiled at him, tanned and ruddy, with afull mouth and bright dark eyes that hid under long lashes when helooked too long.     Startling, those wary eyes. Concealing. For a moment he felt a rush offear, but she gave his hand a squeeze before twisting loose, and burstinto sudden laughter.     Diapers! she chortled, struggling to keep her voice low. My big,strong, blond and blue-eyed hero goes into battle wearing diapers, andcarrying only a hammer to fight with! You're the most unforgettablecharacter I have ever known!     He'd passed inspection, then—so far. He expelled his withheld breath,and said, I think you'll find me a little odd, in some ways.     Oh, not at all, Ida replied quickly. Different, yes, but I wouldn'tsay odd.  <doc-sep>I know all about this sort of thing, Gav, First Officer Nagurski saidexpansively. He was rubbing the well-worn ears of our beagle mascot,Bruce. A heavy tail thudded on the steel deck from time to time.     My finger could barely get in the chafing band of my regulation collar.I was hot and tired, fresh—in only the chronological sense—from apressure suit.     What do you know all about, Nagurski? Dogs? Spacemen? Women?Transphasia?     Yes, he answered casually. But I had immediate reference to ourcurrent psychophysiological phenomenon.     I collapsed into the swivel in front of the chart table. First off,let's hear what you know about—never mind, make it dogs.     Take Bruce, for example, then—     No, thanks. I was wondering why      you     did.     I didn't. His dark, round face was bland. Bruce picked me. Followedme home one night in Chicago Port. The dog or the man who picks his ownmaster is the most content.     Bruce is content, I admitted. He couldn't be any more content andstill be alive. But I'm not sure that theory works out with men. We'dhave anarchy if I tried to let these starbucks pick their own master.           I     had no trouble when I was a captain, Nagurski said. Ease thereins on the men. Just offer them your advice, your guidance. Theywill soon see why the service selected you as captain; they will pickyou themselves.     Did your crew voluntarily elect you as their leader?     Of course they did, Gav. I'm an old hand at controlling crews.     Then why are you First Officer under me now?     He blinked, then decided to laugh. I've been in space a good manyyears. I really wanted to relax a little bit more. Besides, theincrease in hazard pay was actually more than my salary as a captain.I'm a notch nearer retirement too.     Tell me, did you always feel this way about letting the men selecttheir own leader?  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the meaning of ""pre-civilization"" in the story TIME IN THE ROUND?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a brief summary of the storyline in Saboteur of Space? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>The mild shocks went on—whether from projectiles or energy-charges,would be hard to find out and it didn't matter; whatever was hittingthe      Quest III's     shell was doing it at velocities where thedistinction between matter and radiation practically ceases to exist.     But that shell was tough. It was an extension of the gravitic drivefield which transmitted the engines' power equally to every atom ofthe ship; forces impinging on the outside of the field were similarlytransmitted and rendered harmless. The effect was as if the vessel andall space inside its field were a single perfectly elastic body. Ameteoroid, for example, on striking it rebounded—usually vaporized bythe impact—and the ship, in obedience to the law of equal and oppositeforces, rebounded too, but since its mass was so much greater, itsdeflection was negligible.     The people in the      Quest III     would have felt nothing at all ofthe vicious onslaught being hurled against them, save that theirinertialess drive, at its normal thrust of two hundred gravities,was intentionally operated at one half of one per cent efficiency toprovide the illusion of Earthly gravitation.     One of the officers said shakily, It's as if they've been lying inwait for us. But why on Earth—     That, said the captain grimly, is what we have to find out. Why—onEarth. At least, I suspect the answer's there.     The      Quest III     bored steadily on through space, decelerating. Even ifone were no fatalist, there seemed no reason to stop decelerating orchange course. There was nowhere else to go and too little fuel leftif there had been; come what might, this was journey's end—perhapsin a more violent and final way than had been anticipated. All aroundwheeled the pigmy enemies, circling, maneuvering, and attacking,always attacking, with the senseless fury of maddened hornets. Theinterstellar ship bore no offensive weapons—but suddenly on one of thevision screens a speck of light flared into nova-brilliance, dazzlingthe watchers for the brief moment in which its very atoms were tornapart.     Knof Jr. whooped ecstatically and then subsided warily, but no one waspaying attention to him. The men on the      Quest III's     bridge lookedquestions at each other, as the thought of help from outside flashedinto many minds at once. But Captain Llud said soberly, It must havecaught one of their own shots, reflected. Maybe its own, if it scoredtoo direct a hit.     He studied the data so far gathered. A few blurred pictures had beengot, which showed cylindrical space ships much like the      Quest III     ,except that they were rocket-propelled and of far lesser size. Theirsize was hard to ascertain, because you needed to know their distanceand speed—but detector-beam echoes gave the distance, and likewise, bythe Doppler method, the velocity of directly receding or approachingships. It was apparent that the enemy vessels were even smaller thanGwar Den had at first supposed—not large enough to hold even one man.Tiny, deadly hornets with a colossal sting.     Robot craft, no doubt, said Knof Llud, but a chill ran down his spineas it occurred to him that perhaps the attackers weren't of humanorigin. They had seen no recognizable life in the part of the galaxythey had explored, but one of the other      Quests     might have encounteredand been traced home by some unhuman race that was greedy and able toconquer.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>Lethla half-crouched in the midst of the smell of death and thechugging of blood-pumps below. In the silence he reached up with quickfingers, tapped a tiny crystal stud upon the back of his head, and thehalves of a microscopically thin chrysalis parted transparently offof his face. He shucked it off, trailing air-tendrils that had beeninserted, hidden in the uniform, ending in thin globules of oxygen.     He spoke. Triumph warmed his crystal-thin voice. That's how I did it,Earthman.     Glassite! said Rice. A face-moulded mask of glassite!     Lethla nodded. His milk-blue eyes dilated. Very marvelously pared toan unbreakable thickness of one-thirtieth of an inch; worn only on thehead. You have to look quickly to notice it, and, unfortunately, viewedas you saw it, outside the ship, floating in the void, not discernibleat all.     Prickles of sweat appeared on Rice's face. He swore at the Venusian andthe Venusian laughed like some sort of stringed instrument, high andquick.     Burnett laughed, too. Ironically. First time in years a man ever cameaboard the Constellation alive. It's a welcome change.     Lethla showed his needle-like teeth. I thought it might be. Where'syour radio?     Go find it! snapped Rice, hotly.     I will. One hand, blue-veined, on the ladder-rungs, Lethla paused.I know you're weaponless; Purple Cross regulations. And this air-lockis safe. Don't move. Whispering, his naked feet padded white up theladder. Two long breaths later something crashed; metal and glass andcoils. The radio.     Burnett put his shoulder blades against the wall-metal, looking at hisfeet. When he glanced up, Rice's fresh, animated face was spoiled bythe new bitterness in it.     Lethla came down. Like a breath of air on the rungs.     He smiled. That's better. Now. We can talk—     Rice said it, slow:     Interplanetary law declares it straight, Lethla! Get out! Only deadmen belong here.     Lethla's gun grip tightened. More talk of that nature, and only deadmen there will be. He blinked. But first—we must rescue Kriere....     Kriere! Rice acted as if he had been hit in the jaw.     Burnett moved his tongue back and forth on his lips silently, his eyeslidded, listening to the two of them as if they were a radio drama.Lethla's voice came next:     Rather unfortunately, yes. He's still alive, heading toward Venusat an orbital velocity of two thousand m.p.h., wearing one of theseair-chrysali. Enough air for two more hours. Our flag ship was attackedunexpectedly yesterday near Mars. We were forced to take to thelife-boats, scattering, Kriere and I in one, the others sacrificingtheir lives to cover our escape. We were lucky. We got through theEarth cordon unseen. But luck can't last forever.     We saw your morgue ship an hour ago. It's a long, long way to Venus.We were running out of fuel, food, water. Radio was broken. Capturewas certain. You were coming our way; we took the chance. We set asmall time-bomb to destroy the life-rocket, and cast off, wearing ourchrysali-helmets. It was the first time we had ever tried using them totrick anyone. We knew you wouldn't know we were alive until it was toolate and we controlled your ship. We knew you picked up all bodies forbrief exams, returning alien corpses to space later.     Rice's voice was sullen. A set-up for you, huh? Traveling under theprotection of the Purple Cross you can get your damned All-Mighty safeto Venus.     Lethla bowed slightly. Who would suspect a Morgue Rocket of providingsafe hiding for precious Venusian cargo?     Precious is the word for you, brother! said Rice.     Enough! Lethla moved his gun several inches.     Accelerate toward Venus, mote-detectors wide open. Kriere must bepicked up—      now!       <doc-sep>On that day, I walked farther than I had intended and, by the time Igot back home, I found the rest of my family had returned before me.They seemed to be excited about something and were surprised to see meso calm.     Aren't you even interested in anything outside your own immediateconcerns, Kev? Sylvia demanded, despite Father's efforts to shush her.     Can't you remember that Kev isn't able to receive the tellies? Timshot back at her. He probably doesn't even know what's happened.     Well, what did happen? I asked, trying not to snap.     One starship got back from Alpha Centauri, Danny said excitedly.There are two inhabited Earth-type planets there!     This was for me; this was it at last! I tried not to show myenthusiasm, though I knew that was futile. My relatives could keeptheir thoughts and emotions from me; I couldn't keep mine from them.What kind of life inhabits them? Humanoid?     Uh-uh. Danny shook his head. And hostile. The crew of the starshipsays they were attacked immediately on landing. When they turned andleft, they were followed here by one of the alien ships. Must be apretty advanced race to have spaceships. Anyhow, the extraterrestrialship headed back as soon as it got a fix on where ours was going.     But if they're hostile, I said thoughtfully, it might mean war.     Of course. That's why everybody's so wrought up. We hope it's peace,but we'll have to prepare for war just in case.     There hadn't been a war on Earth for well over a hundred years, butwe hadn't been so foolish as to obliterate all knowledge of militarytechniques and weapons. The alien ship wouldn't be able to come backwith reinforcements—if such were its intention—in less than sixmonths. This meant time to get together a stockpile of weapons, thoughwe had no idea of how effective our defenses would be against thealiens' armament.     They might have strange and terrible weapons against which we wouldbe powerless. On the other hand, our side would have the benefitsof telekinetically guided missiles, teleported saboteurs, telepathsto pick up the alien strategy, and prognosticators to determine theoutcome of each battle and see whether it was worth fighting in thefirst place.     Everybody on Earth hoped for peace. Everybody, that is, except me. Ihad been unable to achieve any sense of identity with the world inwhich I lived, and it was almost worth the loss of personal survivalto know that my own smug species could look silly against a still moretalented race.  <doc-sep>  Saboteur of Space     By ROBERT ABERNATHY     Fresh power was coming to Earth, energy     which would bring life to a dying planet.     Only two men stood in its way, one a cowardly     rat, the other a murderous martyr; both pawns     in a cosmic game where death moved his chessmen     of fate—and even the winner would lose.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Spring 1944.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Ryd Randl stood, slouching a little, in the darkened footway, andwatched the sky over Dynamopolis come alive with searchlights. Theshuttered glow of Burshis' Stumble Inn was only a few yards off to hisright, but even that lodestone failed before the novel interest of aship about to ground in the one-time Port of Ten Thousand Ships.     Now he made out the flicker of the braking drive a mile or sooverhead, and presently soft motor thunder came down to blanket thealmost lightless city with sound. A beam swayed through the throbbingdarkness, caught the descending ship and held it, a small gleamingminnow slipping through the dark heavens. A faint glow rose from PiMesa, where the spaceport lay above the city, as a runway lightedup—draining the last reserves of the city's stored power, but drainingthem gladly now that, in those autumn days of the historic year 819,relief was in sight.     Ryd shrugged limply; the play was meaningless to him. He turned toshuffle down the inviting ramp into the glowing interior of Burshis'dive.     The place was crowded with men and smoke. Perhaps half the former wereasleep, on tables or on the floor; but for the few places like Burshis'which were still open under the power shortage, many would have frozen,these days, in the chilly nights at fourteen thousand feet. ForDynamopolis sprawled atop the world, now as in the old days when it hadbeen built to be the power center of North America.     The rocket blasts crescendoed and died up on Pi Mesa as Ryd wedgedhimself with difficulty into the group along the bar. If anyonerecognized him, they showed it only by looking fixedly at somethingelse. Only Burshis Yuns kept his static smile and nodded withsurprising friendliness at Ryd's pinched, old-young face.     Ryd was startled by the nod. Burshis finished serving another customerand maneuvered down the stained chrome-and-synthyl bar. Ryd washeartened.     Say, Burshis, he started nervously, as the bulky man halted with hisback to him. But Burshis turned, still smiling, shaking his head sothat his jowls quivered.     No loans, he said flatly. But just one on the house, Ryd.     The drink almost spilled itself in Ryd's hand. Clutching itconvulsively, he made his eyes narrow and said suspiciously, What yousetting 'em up for, Burshis? It's the first time since—     Burshis' smile stayed put. He said affably, Didn't you hear that shipthat just came down on the Mesa? That was the ship from Mars—theescort they were sending with the power cylinder. The power's comingin again. He turned to greet a coin-tapping newcomer, added over hisshoulder: You know what that means, Ryd. Some life around here again.Jobs for all the bums in this town—even for you.     He left Ryd frowning, thinking fuzzily. A warming gulp seemed to clearhis head. Jobs. So they thought they could put that over on him again,huh? Well, he'd show them. He was smart; he was a damn good helioman—no, that had been ten years ago. But now he was out of the habitof working, anyway. No job for Ryd Randl. They gave him one once andthen took it away. He drank still more deeply.     The man on Ryd's immediate right leaned toward him. He laid a hand onhis arm, gripping it hard, and said quietly: So you're Ryd Randl.  <doc-sep>One thing he could find out: how long this had been going on. Heturned to the communicator and unhooked the paper receptacle on itsbottom. It held about a yard and a half of tape, probably his lastseveral messages—both those sent and those received. He pulled it outimpatiently and began reading.     The first was from himself:     YOUR SUGGESTIONS NO HELP. HOW AM I GOING TO REPAIR DAMAGE TO SCOUTWITHOUT PROPER EQUIPMENT? AND WHERE DO I GET IT? DO YOU THINK I FOUNDA TOOL SHOP DOWN HERE? FOR GOD'S SAKE, COME UP WITH SOMETHING BETTER.     VISITED SEAL-PEOPLE AGAIN TODAY. STILL HAVE THEIR STINK IN MY NOSE.FOUND HUTS ALONG RIVER BANK, SO I GUESS THEY DON'T LIVE IN WATER.BUT THEY DO SPEND MOST OF THEIR TIME THERE. NO, I HAVE NO WAY OFESTIMATING THEIR INTELLIGENCE. I WOULD JUDGE IT AVERAGES NO HIGHERTHAN SEVEN-YEAR-OLD HUMAN. THEY DEFINITELY DO TALK TO ONE ANOTHER.WILL TRY TO FIND OUT MORE ABOUT THEM, BUT YOU GET TO WORK FAST ON HOWI REPAIR SCOUT.     SWELLING IN ARM WORSE AND AM DEVELOPING A FEVER. TEMPERATURE 102.7 ANHOUR AGO.     SMOKY     The ship must have answered immediately, for the return message timewas six hours later than his own, the minimum interval necessary fortwo-way exchange.     DOING OUR BEST, SMOKY. YOUR IMMEDIATE PROBLEM, AS WE SEE IT, IS TOKEEP WELL. WE FED ALL THE INFORMATION YOU GAVE US INTO SAM, BUT YOUDIDN'T HAVE MUCH EXCEPT THE STING IN YOUR ARM. AS EXPECTED, ALL THATCAME OUT WAS DATA INSUFFICIENT. TRY TO GIVE US MORE. ALSO DETAILALL SYMPTOMS SINCE YOUR LAST REPORT. IN THE MEANTIME, WE'RE DOINGEVERYTHING WE CAN AT THIS END. GOOD LUCK.     SS II     Sam, Kaiser knew, was the ship's mechanical diagnostician. His reportfollowed:     ARM SWOLLEN. UNABLE TO KEEP DOWN FOOD LAST TWELVE HOURS. ABOUT TWOHOURS AGO, ENTIRE BODY TURNED LIVID RED. BRIEF PERIODS OF BLANKNESS.THINGS KEEP COMING AND GOING. SICK AS HELL. HURRY.     SMOKY     The ship's next message read:     INFECTION QUITE DEFINITE. BUT SOMETHING STRANGE THERE. GIVE USANYTHING MORE YOU HAVE.     SS II     His own reply perplexed Kaiser:     LAST LETTER FUNNY. I NOT UNDERSTAND. WHY IS OO SENDING GARBLE TALK?DID USNS MAKE UP SECRET MESSAGES?     SMOKY     The expedition, apparently, was as puzzled as he:     WHAT'S THE MATTER, SMOKY? THAT LAST MESSAGE WAS IN PLAIN TERRAN. NOREASON WHY YOU COULDN'T READ IT. AND WHY THE BABY TALK? IF YOU'RESPOOFING, STOP. GIVE US MORE SYMPTOMS. HOW ARE YOU FEELING NOW?     SS II     The baby talk was worse on Kaiser's next:     TWAZY. WHAT FOR OO TENDING TWAZY LETTERS? FINK UM CAN WEAD TWAZYLETTERS? SKIN ALL YELLOW NOW. COLD. COLD. CO     The ship's following communication was three hours late. It was thelast on the tape—the one Kaiser had read earlier. Apparently theydecided to humor him.     OO IS SICK, SMOKY. DO TO BEDDY-BY. KEEP UM WARM. WHEN UM FEELS BETTER,LET USNS KNOW.     SS II     That was not much help. All it told him was that he had been sick.     He felt better now, outside of a muscular weariness, as thoughconvalescing from a long illness. He put the back of his hand to hisforehead. Cool. No fever anyway.     He glanced at the clock-calendar on the instrument board and back atthe date and time on the tape where he'd started his baby talk. Twentyhours. He hadn't been out of his head too long. He began punching thecommunicator keys while he nibbled at a biscuit.     SEEM TO BE FULLY RECOVERED. FEELING FINE. ANYTHING NEW FROM SAM? ANDHOW ABOUT THE DAMAGE TO SCOUT? GIVE ME ANYTHING YOU HAVE ON EITHER ORBOTH.     SMOKY     Kaiser felt suddenly weary. He lay on the scout's bunk and triedto sleep. Soon he was in that phantasm land between sleep andwakefulness—he knew he was not sleeping, yet he did dream.     It was the same dream he had had many times before. In it, he was backhome again, the home he had joined the space service to escape. He hadrealized soon after his marriage that his wife, Helene, did not lovehim. She had married him for the security his pay check provided. Andthough it soon became evident that she, too, regretted her bargain,she would not divorce him. Instead, she had her revenge on him bypersistent nagging, by letting herself grow fat and querulous, and bycaring for their house only in a slovenly way.     Her crippled brother had moved in with them the day they were married.His mind was as crippled as his body and he took an unhealthy delightin helping his sister torment Kaiser.  <doc-sep>Bam, Bam, Bam, the blood pounded in his ears. Like repeated blows of ahammer they shook his booming head. No longer was Torp above him. Hewas in the corner of the laboratory, a crumpled blood-smeared heap ofbruised flesh and bone. He was unfettered and the blood was caked uponhis skull and in his matted hair. Torp must have thought he had killedhim with those savage blows upon the head.     Even Torp, thought Thig ruefully, gave way to the primitive rage of hisancestors at times; but to that very bit of unconscious atavism he nowowed his life. A cool-headed robot of an Orthan would have efficientlyused the blaster to destroy any possibility of remaining life in hisunconscious body.     Thig rolled slowly over so that his eye found the door into the controlroom. Torp would be coming back again to dispose of their bodiesthrough the refuse lock. Already the body of Kam was gone. He wonderedwhy he had been left until last. Perhaps Torp wished to take culturesof his blood and tissues to determine whether a disease was responsiblefor his sudden madness.     The cases of fragile instruments were just above his head. Associationof memories brought him the flash of the heavy blaster in its rackbeneath them. His hand went up and felt the welcome hardness of theweapon. He tugged it free.     In a moment he was on his knees crawling across the plates of the decktoward the door. Halfway across the floor he collapsed on his face,the metal of the gun making a harsh clang. He heard the feet of Torpscuffle out of silence and a choked cry in the man's throat squalledout into a senseless whinny.     Thig raised himself up on a quivering elbow and slid the black lengthof the blaster in front of him. His eyes sought the doorway and staredfull into the glaring vacant orbs of his commander. Torp leaned therewatching him, his breath gurgling brokenly through his deep-bittenlips. The clawing marks of nails, fingernails, furrowed his face andchest. He was a madman!     The deadly attack of Thig; his own violent avenging of Kam's death, andnow the apparent return of the man he had killed come to life had allserved to jolt his rigidly trained brain from its accustomed groove.The shock had been too much for the established thought-processes ofthe Orthan.     So Thig shot him where he stood, mercifully, before that vacant madstare set him, too, to gibbering and shrieking. Then he stepped overthe skeleton-thing that had been Torp, using the new strength thatvictory had given him to drive him along.     He had saved a world's civilization from extinction! The thoughtsobered him; yet, somehow, he was pleased that he had done so. Afterall, it had been the Earthwoman and the children he had been thinkingof while he battled Kam, a selfish desire to protect them all.     He went to the desk where Torp had been writing in the ship's log andread the last few nervously scrawled lines:       Planet 72-P-3 unfit for colonization. Some pernicious disease thatstrikes at the brain centers and causes violent insanity is existentthere. Thig, just returned from a survey of the planet, went mad anddestroyed Kam. In turn I was forced to slay him. But it is not ended.Already I feel the insidious virus of....       And there his writing ended abruptly.     Thig nodded. That would do it. He set the automatic pilot for theplanet Ortha. Unless a rogue asteroid or a comet crossed the ship'spath she would return safely to Ortha with that mute warning of dangeron 72-P-3. The body of Torp would help to confirm his final message.     Then Thig crossed the cabin to the auxiliary life boat there, one ofa half-dozen space ships in miniature nested within the great ship'shull, and cut free from the mother vessel.     He flipped the drive lever, felt the thrumming of the rockets drivinghim from the parent ship. The sensation of free flight against his newbody was strangely exhilerating and heady. It was the newest of theemotions he had experienced on Earth since that day, so many monthsbefore, when he had felt the warmness of Ellen's lips tight against his.        Thig flipped the drive lever, felt the thrumming of therockets driving him from the parent ship.        He swung about to the port, watched the flaming drive-rockets of thegreat exploratory ship hurl it toward far-away Ortha, and there was noregret in his mind that he was not returning to the planet of his firstexistence.     He thought of the dull greys and blacks of his planet, of themonotonous routine of existence that had once been his—and his heartthrilled to the memories of the starry nights and perfect exciting dayshe had spent on his three month trip over Earth.     He made a brief salute to the existence he had known, turned with atiny sigh, and his fingers made brief adjustments in the controls. Therocket-thrum deepened, and the thin whistle of tenuous air clutchingthe ship echoed through the hull-plates.     He thought of many things in those few moments. He watched theroundness of Earth flatten out, then take on the cup-like illusionthat all planets had for an incoming ship. He reduced the drive of hisrockets to a mere whisper, striving to control the impatience thatcrowded his mind.     He shivered suddenly, remembering his utter callousness the first timehe had sent a space ship whipping down toward the hills and valleysbelow. And there was a sickness within him when he fully realized that,despite his acquired memory and traits, he was an alien from outerspace.     He fingered the tiny scars that had completely obliterated the slightdifferences in his appearance from an Earthman's, and his fingerstrembled a bit, as he bent and stared through the vision port. He saida brief prayer in his heart to a God whose presence he now felt verydeeply. There were tears in the depths of his eyes, then, and memorieswere hot, bitter pains.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a brief summary of the storyline in Saboteur of Space?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the backdrop of the story Saboteur of Space? [SEP] <s>   The Sense of Wonder     By MILTON LESSER     Illustrated by HARRY ROSENBAUM     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      When nobody aboard ship remembers where it's     going, how can they tell when it has arrived?      Every day for a week now, Rikud had come to the viewport to watchthe great changeless sweep of space. He could not quite explain thefeelings within him; they were so alien, so unnatural. But ever sincethe engines somewhere in the rear of the world had changed their tone,from the steady whining Rikud had heard all twenty-five years of hislife, to the sullen roar that came to his ears now, the feelings hadgrown.     If anyone else had noticed the change, he failed to mention it. Thisdisturbed Rikud, although he could not tell why. And, because he hadrealized this odd difference in himself, he kept it locked up insidehim.     Today, space looked somehow different. The stars—it was a meaninglessconcept to Rikud, but that was what everyone called the brightpinpoints of light on the black backdrop in the viewport—were notapparent in the speckled profusion Rikud had always known. Instead,there was more of the blackness, and one very bright star set apartby itself in the middle of the viewport.     If he had understood the term, Rikud would have told himself this wasodd. His head ached with the half-born thought. It was—it was—whatwas it?     Someone was clomping up the companionway behind Rikud. He turned andgreeted gray-haired old Chuls.     In five more years, the older man chided, you'll be ready to sirechildren. And all you can do in the meantime is gaze out at the stars.     Rikud knew he should be exercising now, or bathing in the rays of thehealth-lamps. It had never occurred to him that he didn't feel like it;he just didn't, without comprehending.     Chuls' reminder fostered uneasiness. Often Rikud had dreamed of thetime he would be thirty and a father. Whom would the Calculator selectas his mate? The first time this idea had occurred to him, Rikudignored it. But it came again, and each time it left him with a feelinghe could not explain. Why should he think thoughts that no other manhad? Why should he think he was thinking such thoughts, when it alwaysembroiled him in a hopeless, infinite confusion that left him with aheadache?     Chuls said, It is time for my bath in the health-rays. I saw you hereand knew it was your time, too....     His voice trailed off. Rikud knew that something which he could notexplain had entered the elder man's head for a moment, but it haddeparted almost before Chuls knew of its existence.     I'll go with you, Rikud told him.  <doc-sep>On that day, I walked farther than I had intended and, by the time Igot back home, I found the rest of my family had returned before me.They seemed to be excited about something and were surprised to see meso calm.     Aren't you even interested in anything outside your own immediateconcerns, Kev? Sylvia demanded, despite Father's efforts to shush her.     Can't you remember that Kev isn't able to receive the tellies? Timshot back at her. He probably doesn't even know what's happened.     Well, what did happen? I asked, trying not to snap.     One starship got back from Alpha Centauri, Danny said excitedly.There are two inhabited Earth-type planets there!     This was for me; this was it at last! I tried not to show myenthusiasm, though I knew that was futile. My relatives could keeptheir thoughts and emotions from me; I couldn't keep mine from them.What kind of life inhabits them? Humanoid?     Uh-uh. Danny shook his head. And hostile. The crew of the starshipsays they were attacked immediately on landing. When they turned andleft, they were followed here by one of the alien ships. Must be apretty advanced race to have spaceships. Anyhow, the extraterrestrialship headed back as soon as it got a fix on where ours was going.     But if they're hostile, I said thoughtfully, it might mean war.     Of course. That's why everybody's so wrought up. We hope it's peace,but we'll have to prepare for war just in case.     There hadn't been a war on Earth for well over a hundred years, butwe hadn't been so foolish as to obliterate all knowledge of militarytechniques and weapons. The alien ship wouldn't be able to come backwith reinforcements—if such were its intention—in less than sixmonths. This meant time to get together a stockpile of weapons, thoughwe had no idea of how effective our defenses would be against thealiens' armament.     They might have strange and terrible weapons against which we wouldbe powerless. On the other hand, our side would have the benefitsof telekinetically guided missiles, teleported saboteurs, telepathsto pick up the alien strategy, and prognosticators to determine theoutcome of each battle and see whether it was worth fighting in thefirst place.     Everybody on Earth hoped for peace. Everybody, that is, except me. Ihad been unable to achieve any sense of identity with the world inwhich I lived, and it was almost worth the loss of personal survivalto know that my own smug species could look silly against a still moretalented race.  <doc-sep>  Saboteur of Space     By ROBERT ABERNATHY     Fresh power was coming to Earth, energy     which would bring life to a dying planet.     Only two men stood in its way, one a cowardly     rat, the other a murderous martyr; both pawns     in a cosmic game where death moved his chessmen     of fate—and even the winner would lose.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Spring 1944.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Ryd Randl stood, slouching a little, in the darkened footway, andwatched the sky over Dynamopolis come alive with searchlights. Theshuttered glow of Burshis' Stumble Inn was only a few yards off to hisright, but even that lodestone failed before the novel interest of aship about to ground in the one-time Port of Ten Thousand Ships.     Now he made out the flicker of the braking drive a mile or sooverhead, and presently soft motor thunder came down to blanket thealmost lightless city with sound. A beam swayed through the throbbingdarkness, caught the descending ship and held it, a small gleamingminnow slipping through the dark heavens. A faint glow rose from PiMesa, where the spaceport lay above the city, as a runway lightedup—draining the last reserves of the city's stored power, but drainingthem gladly now that, in those autumn days of the historic year 819,relief was in sight.     Ryd shrugged limply; the play was meaningless to him. He turned toshuffle down the inviting ramp into the glowing interior of Burshis'dive.     The place was crowded with men and smoke. Perhaps half the former wereasleep, on tables or on the floor; but for the few places like Burshis'which were still open under the power shortage, many would have frozen,these days, in the chilly nights at fourteen thousand feet. ForDynamopolis sprawled atop the world, now as in the old days when it hadbeen built to be the power center of North America.     The rocket blasts crescendoed and died up on Pi Mesa as Ryd wedgedhimself with difficulty into the group along the bar. If anyonerecognized him, they showed it only by looking fixedly at somethingelse. Only Burshis Yuns kept his static smile and nodded withsurprising friendliness at Ryd's pinched, old-young face.     Ryd was startled by the nod. Burshis finished serving another customerand maneuvered down the stained chrome-and-synthyl bar. Ryd washeartened.     Say, Burshis, he started nervously, as the bulky man halted with hisback to him. But Burshis turned, still smiling, shaking his head sothat his jowls quivered.     No loans, he said flatly. But just one on the house, Ryd.     The drink almost spilled itself in Ryd's hand. Clutching itconvulsively, he made his eyes narrow and said suspiciously, What yousetting 'em up for, Burshis? It's the first time since—     Burshis' smile stayed put. He said affably, Didn't you hear that shipthat just came down on the Mesa? That was the ship from Mars—theescort they were sending with the power cylinder. The power's comingin again. He turned to greet a coin-tapping newcomer, added over hisshoulder: You know what that means, Ryd. Some life around here again.Jobs for all the bums in this town—even for you.     He left Ryd frowning, thinking fuzzily. A warming gulp seemed to clearhis head. Jobs. So they thought they could put that over on him again,huh? Well, he'd show them. He was smart; he was a damn good helioman—no, that had been ten years ago. But now he was out of the habitof working, anyway. No job for Ryd Randl. They gave him one once andthen took it away. He drank still more deeply.     The man on Ryd's immediate right leaned toward him. He laid a hand onhis arm, gripping it hard, and said quietly: So you're Ryd Randl.  <doc-sep>  THE GIANTS RETURN     By ROBERT ABERNATHY     Earth set itself grimly to meet them with     corrosive fire, determined to blast them     back to the stars. But they erred in thinking     the Old Ones were too big to be clever.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      In the last hours the star ahead had grown brighter by many magnitudes,and had changed its color from a dazzling blue through white to thenormal yellow, of a GO sun. That was the Doppler effect as the star'sradial velocity changed relative to the      Quest III     , as for forty hoursthe ship had decelerated.     They had seen many such stars come near out of the galaxy's glitteringbackdrop, and had seen them dwindle, turn red and go out as the      QuestIII     drove on its way once more, lashed by despair toward the speed oflight, leaving behind the mockery of yet another solitary and lifelessluminary unaccompanied by worlds where men might dwell. They had grownsated with the sight of wonders—of multiple systems of giant stars, ofnebulae that sprawled in empty flame across light years.     But now unwonted excitement possessed the hundred-odd members of the      Quest III's     crew. It was a subdued excitement; men and women, theycame and stood quietly gazing into the big vision screens that showedthe oncoming star, and there were wide-eyed children who had been bornin the ship and had never seen a planet. The grownups talked in lowvoices, in tones of mingled eagerness and apprehension, of what mightlie at the long journey's end. For the      Quest III     was coming home; thesun ahead was      the     Sun, whose rays had warmed their lives' beginning.  <doc-sep>Bob Parker came to, the emptiness of remote starlight in his face. Heopened his eyes. He was slowly revolving on an axis. Sometimes the Sunswept across his line of vision. A cold hammering began at the base ofhis skull, a sensation similar to that of being buried alive. There wasno asteroid, no girl, no Queazy. He was alone in the vastness of space.Alone in a space-suit.     Queazy! he whispered. Queazy! I'm running out of air!     There was no answer from Queazy. With sick eyes, Bob studied theoxygen indicator. There was only five pounds pressure. Five pounds!That meant he had been floating around out here—how long? Days atleast—maybe weeks! It was evident that somebody had given him a doseof spastic rays, enough to screw up every muscle in his body to thesnapping point, putting him in such a condition of suspended animationthat his oxygen needs were small. He closed his eyes, trying to fightagainst panic. He was glad he couldn't see any part of his body. He wasprobably scrawny. And he was hungry!     I'll starve, he thought. Or suffocate to death first!     He couldn't keep himself from taking in great gulps of air. Minutes,then hours passed. He was breathing abnormally, and there wasn't enoughair in the first place. He pleaded continually for Queazy, hopingthat somehow Queazy could help, when probably Queazy was in the samecondition. He ripped out wild curses directed at the Saylor brothers.Murderers, both of them! Up until this time, he had merely thought ofthem as business rivals. If he ever got out of this—     He groaned. He never would get out of it! After another hour, he wasgasping weakly, and yellow spots danced in his eyes. He called Queazy'sname once more, knowing that was the last time he would have strengthto call it.     And this time the headset spoke back!     Bob Parker made a gurgling sound. A voice came again, washed withstatic, far away, burbling, but excited. Bob made a rattling sound inhis throat. Then his eyes started to close, but he imagined that he sawa ship, shiny and small, driving toward him, growing in size againstthe backdrop of the Milky Way. He relapsed, a terrific buzzing in hisears.     He did not lose consciousness. He heard voices, Queazy's and thegirl's, whoever she was. Somebody grabbed hold of his foot. Hisaquarium was unbuckled and good air washed over his streaming face.The sudden rush of oxygen to his brain dizzied him. Then he was lyingon a bunk, and gradually the world beyond his sick body focussed in hisclearing eyes and he knew he was alive—and going to stay that way, forawhile anyway.     Thanks, Queazy, he said huskily.     Queazy was bending over him, his anxiety clearing away from hissuddenly brightening face.     Don't thank me, he whispered. We'd have both been goners if ithadn't been for her. The Saylor brothers left her paralyzed likeus, and when she woke up she was on a slow orbit around her ship.She unstrapped her holster and threw it away from her and it gaveher enough reaction to reach the ship. She got inside and used thedirection-finder on the telaudio and located me first. The Saylorsscattered us far and wide. Queazy's broad, normally good-humored facetwisted blackly. The so and so's didn't care if we lived or died.     Bob saw the girl now, standing a little behind Queazy, looking down athim curiously, but unhappily. Her space-suit was off. She was wearinglightly striped blue slacks and blue silk blouse and she had a paperflower in her hair. Something in Bob's stomach caved in as his eyeswidened on her.     The girl said glumly, I guess you men won't much care for me when youfind out who I am and what I've done. I'm Starre Lowenthal—Andrew S.Burnside's granddaughter!  <doc-sep>In the evening a girl brought Maitland his meal. As the door slidaside, he automatically stood up, and they stared at each other forseveral seconds.     She had the high cheekbones and almond eyes of an Oriental, skin thatglowed like gold in the evening light, yet thick coiled braids ofblonde hair that glittered like polished brass. Shorts and a sleevelessblouse of some thick, reddish, metallic-looking fabric clung to herbody, and over that she was wearing a light, ankle-length cloak of whatseemed to be white wool.     She was looking at him with palpable curiosity and something likeexpectancy. Maitland sighed and said, Hello, then glanced downself-consciously at his wrinkled green pajamas.       She smiled, put the tray of food on the table, and swept out, her cloakbillowing behind her. Maitland remained standing, staring at the closeddoor for a minute after she was gone.     Later, when he had finished the steak and corn on the cob and shreddedcarrots, and a feeling of warm well-being was diffusing from hisstomach to his extremities, he sat down on the bed to watch the sunsetand to think.     There were three questions for which he required answers before hecould formulate any plan or policy.     Where was he?     Who was Swarts?     What was the purpose of the tests he was being given?     It was possible, of course, that this was all an elaborate schemefor getting military secrets, despite Swarts' protestations to thecontrary. Maitland frowned. This place certainly didn't have theappearance of a military establishment, and so far there had beennothing to suggest the kind of interrogation to be expected fromforeign intelligence officers.     It might be better to tackle the first question first. He looked atthe Sun, a red spheroid already half below the horizon, and tried tothink of a region that had this kind of terrain. That prairie out therewas unique. Almost anywhere in the world, land like that would becultivated, not allowed to go to grass.     This might be somewhere in Africa....     He shook his head, puzzled. The Sun disappeared and its blood-huedglow began to fade from the sky. Maitland sat there, trying to gethold of the problem from an angle where it wouldn't just slip away.After a while the western sky became a screen of clear luminous blue,a backdrop for a pure white brilliant star. As always at that sight,Maitland felt his worry drain away, leaving an almost mystical sense ofpeace and an undefinable longing.     Venus, the most beautiful of the planets.     Maitland kept track of them all in their majestic paths through theconstellations, but Venus was his favorite. Time and time again hehad watched its steady climb higher and higher in the western sky,its transient rule there as evening star, its progression toward thehorizon, and loved it equally in its      alter ego     of morning star. Venuswas an old friend. An old friend....     Something icy settled on the back of his neck, ran down his spine, anddiffused into his body. He stared at the planet unbelievingly, fistsclenched, forgetting to breathe.     Last night Venus hadn't been there.     Venus was a morning star just now....       Just now!       He realized the truth in that moment.  <doc-sep>The first thing about the derelict that struck us as we drew near washer size. No ship ever built in the Foundation Yards had ever attainedsuch gargantuan proportions. She must have stretched a full thousandfeet from bow to stern, a sleek torpedo shape of somehow unspeakablealienness. Against the backdrop of the Milky Way, she gleamed fitfullyin the light of the faraway sun, the metal of her flanks grained withsomething like tiny, glittering whorls. It was as though the stuffwere somehow unstable ... seeking balance ... maybe even alive in somestrange and alien way.     It was readily apparent to all of us that she had never been built forinter-planetary flight. She was a starship. Origin unknown. An aura ofmystery surrounded her like a shroud, protecting the world that gaveher birth mutely but effectively. The distance she must have come wasunthinkable. And the time it had taken...? Aeons. Millennia. For shewas drifting, dead in space, slowly spinning end over end as she swungabout Sol in a hyperbolic orbit that would soon take her out and awayagain into the inter-stellar deeps.     Something had wounded her ... perhaps ten million years ago ... perhapsyesterday. She was gashed deeply from stem to stern with a jagged ripthat bared her mangled innards. A wandering asteroid? A meteor? Wewould never know. It gave me an uncomfortable feeling of things beyondthe ken of men as I looked at her through the port. I would never knowwhat killed her, or where she was going, or whence she came. Yet shewas mine. It made me feel like an upstart. And it made me afraid ...but of what?     We should have reported her to the nearest EMV base, but that wouldhave meant that we'd lose her. Scientists would be sent out. Men betterequipped than we to investigate the first extrasolar artifact found bymen. But I didn't report her. She was ours. She was money in the bank.Let the scientists take over after we'd put a prize crew aboard andbrought her into Callisto for salvage.... That's the way I had thingsfigured.     The Maid hove to about a hundred yards from her and hung there, dwarfedby the mighty glistening ship. I called for volunteers and we prepareda boarding party. I was thinking that her drives alone would be worthmillions. Cohn took charge and he and three of the men suited up andcrossed to her.     In an hour they were back, disappointment largely written on theirfaces.     There's nothing left of her, Captain, Cohn reported, Whatever hither tore up the innards so badly we couldn't even find the drives.She's a mess inside. Nothing left but the hull and a few storagecompartments that are still unbroken.     She was never built to carry humanoids he told us, and there wasnothing that could give us a hint of where she had come from. The hullalone was left.     He dropped two chunks of metal on my desk. I brought back some samplesof her pressure hull, he said, The whole thing is made of thisstuff....     We'll still take her in, I said, hiding my disappointment. Thecarcass will be worth money in Callisto. Have Mister Marvin andZaleski assemble a spare pulse-jet. We'll jury-rig her and bring herdown under her own power. You take charge of provisioning her. Checkthose compartments you found and install oxy-generators aboard. Whenit's done report to me in my quarters.     I picked up the two samples of gleaming metal and called for ametallurgical testing kit. I'm going to try and find out if this stuffis worth anything....     The metal was heavy—too heavy, it seemed to me, for spaceshipconstruction. But then, who was to say what conditions existed on thatdistant world where this metal was made?     Under the bright fluorescent over my work-table, the chunks of metaltorn from a random bulkhead of the starship gleamed like pale silver;those strange little whorls that I had noticed on the outer hull werethere too, like tiny magnetic lines of force, making the surface ofthe metal seem to dance. I held the stuff in my bare hand.      It had ayellowish tinge, and it was heavier     ....     Even as I watched, the metal grew yellower, and the hand that heldit grew bone weary, little tongues of fatigue licking up my forearm.Suddenly terrified, I dropped the chunk as though it were white hot. Itstruck the table with a dull thud and lay there, a rich yellow lump ofmetallic lustre.     For a long while I just sat and stared. Then I began testing, tryingall the while to quiet the trembling of my hands. I weighed it on abalance. I tested it with acids. It had changed unquestionably. Itwas no longer the same as when I had carried it into my quarters. Thewhorls of force were gone. It was no longer alive with a questingvibrancy ... it was inert, stable. From somewhere, somehow, it haddrawn the energy necessary for transmutation. The unknown metal—thestuff of which that whole mammoth spaceship from the stars wasbuilt—was now....       Gold!       I scarcely dared believe it, but there it was staring at me from mytable-top.      Gold!       I searched my mind for an explanation. Contra-terrene matter, perhaps,from some distant island universe where matter reacted differently ...drawing energy from somewhere, the energy it needed to find stabilityin its new environment. Stability as a terrene element—wonderfully,miraculously gold!     And outside, in the void beyond the Maid's ports there were tons ofthis metal that could be turned into treasure. My laughter must havebeen a wild sound in those moments of discovery....  <doc-sep>After a time he said, Rodney, Wass, it's dust, down there. Rememberthe wind? Air currents are moving it.     Rodney sat down on the metal flooring. For a long time he said nothing.Then—It wasn't.... Why did you close the hatch then?     Martin did not say he thought the other two would have shot him,otherwise. He said merely, At first I wasn't sure myself.     Rodney stood up, backing away from the closed hatch. He held his gunloosely, and his hand shook. Then prove it. Open it again.     Martin went to the wheel. He noticed Wass was standing behind Rodneyand he, too, had drawn his gun.     The hatch rose again at Martin's direction. He stood beside it,outlined in the light of two torches.     For a little while he was alone.     Then—causing a gasp from Wass, a harsh expletive from Rodney—atenuous, questing alien limb edged through the hatch, curling aboutMartin, sparkling in ten thousand separate particles in the torchlight,obscuring the dimly seen backdrop of geometrical processions of strangeobjects.       Martin raised an arm, and the particles swirled in stately, shimmeringspirals.     Rodney leaned forward and looked over the edge of the hatch. He saidnothing. He eyed the sparkling particles swirling about Martin, andnow, himself.     How deep, Wass said, from his safe distance.     We'll have to lower a flashlight, Martin answered.     Rodney, all eagerness to be of assistance now, lowered a rope with atorch swinging wildly on the end of it.     The torch came to rest about thirty feet down. It shone on gentlyrolling mounds of fine, white stuff.     Martin anchored the rope soundly, and paused, half across the lipof the hatch to stare coldly at Wass. You'd rather monkey with theswitches and blow yourself to smithereens?     Wass sighed and refused to meet Martin's gaze. Martin looked at himdisgustedly, and then began to descend the rope, slowly, peering intothe infinite, sparkling darkness pressing around him. At the bottomof the rope he sank to his knees in dust, and then was held even. Hestamped his feet, and then, as well as he was able, did a standingjump. He sank no farther than his knees.     He sighted a path parallel with the avenue above, toward the nearestedge of the city. I think we'll be all right, he called out, as longas we avoid the drifts.     Rodney began the descent. Looking up, Martin saw Wass above Rodney.     All right, Wass, Martin said quietly, as Rodney released the rope andsank into the dust.     Not me, the answer came back quickly. You two fools go your way,I'll go mine.     Wass!     There was no answer. The light faded swiftly away from the opening.     The going was hard. The dust clung like honey to their feet, and eddiedand swirled about them until the purifying systems in their suits werehard-pressed to remove the fine stuff working in at joints and valves.     Are we going straight? Rodney asked.     Of course, Martin growled.     There was silence again, the silence of almost-exhausted determination.The two men lifted their feet out of the dust, and then laboriouslyplunged forward, to sink again to the knees, repeated the act, timeswithout number.     Then Wass broke his silence, taunting. The ship leaves in two hours,Martin. Two hours. Hear me, Rodney?     Martin pulled his left foot from the sand and growled deep in histhroat. Ahead, through the confusing patterns of the sparkling dust,his flashlight gleamed against metal. He grabbed Rodney's arm, pointed.     A grate.     Rodney stared. Wass! he shouted. We've found a way out!     Their radios recorded Wass' laughter. I'm at the switchboard now,Martin. I—     There was a tinkle of breaking glass, breaking faceplate.     The grate groaned upward and stopped.     Wass babbled incoherently into the radio for a moment, and then hebegan to scream.     Martin switched off his radio, sick.     He turned it on again when they reached the opening in the metal wall.Well?     I've been trying to get you, Rodney said, frantically. Why didn'tyou answer?     We couldn't do anything for him.     Rodney's face was white and drawn. But he did this for us.     So he did, Martin said, very quietly.     Rodney said nothing.     Then Martin said, Did you listen until the end?     Rodney nodded, jerkily. He pulled three more switches. I couldn'tunderstand it all. But—Martin, dying alone like that in a place likethis—!     Martin crawled into the circular pipe behind the grate. It tilted uptoward the surface. Come on, Rodney. Last lap.     An hour later they surfaced about two hundred yards away from theedge of the city. Behind them the black pile rose, the dome of forceshimmering, almost invisible, about it.     Ahead of them were the other two scoutships from the mother ship.Martin called out faintly, pulling Rodney out of the pipe. Crew membersstanding by the scoutships, and at the edge of the city, began to runtoward them.     Radio picked you up as soon as you entered the pipe, someone said. Itwas the last thing Martin heard before he collapsed.   <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the backdrop of the story Saboteur of Space?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"""In Saboteur of Space, what is Mury's demeanor and behavior like throughout the story?"" [SEP] <s>Mury smiled with supernal calm. We won't be here long, he said.Then, to quiet Ryd's fears, he went on: The central control panel andthe three local switches inside, between, and outside the locks areon the circuit in that order. Unless the locks were closed from theswitch just beyond the inner lock, that lock will open when the centralcontrol panel is cut out in preparation for lifting.     Almost as he paused and drew breath, a light sprang out over the switchhe had closed and the inner lock swung silently free of its gaskets.Ryd felt a trembling relief; but Mury's voice lashed out like a whip ashe slipped cat-like into the passage.     Keep him covered. Back out of the lock.     Ryd backed—the white, tense face of the prisoner holding his ownnervous gaze—and, almost out of the lock, stumbled over the metalpressure rings. And the gun was out of his unsure grip, clatteringsomewhere near his slithering feet, as he started to fall.     He saw the guardsman hurl himself forward; then he was flung spinning,back against the engine-room door. In a flash, even as he struggledto keep on his feet, he saw the man in the airlock coming up from acrouch, shifting the pistol in his right hand to reach its firinglever; he saw Mury sidestep swiftly and throw the master control switchoutside.     The inner lock whooshed shut, barely missing Ryd. At the same instant,the flame gun lighted locks and passage with one terrific flash, and ascorched, discolored spot appeared on the beveled metal of the oppositelock a foot from Mury's right shoulder.     You damned clumsy little fool— said Mury with soft intensity. Then,while the air around the metal walls still buzzed and snapped withblue sparks, he whirled and went up the control-room gangway in twoquick bounds. Even as he went the flame gun thundered again in thestarboard airlock.     Mury was just in time, for the pilot had been about to flash Ready tothe Communications Tower when the explosions had given him pause. Butthe latter and his two companions were neither ready nor armed; clampedin their seats at the controls, already marked, they were helpless inan instant before the leveled menace of the gun. And the imprisonedguardsman, having wasted most of his charges, was helpless, too, in hislittle cell of steel.     It's been tried before, said one of the masked men. He had a blond,youthful thatch and a smooth healthy face below the mask, together withan astrogator's triangled stars which made him      ex officio     the brainsof the vessel. Stealing a ship—it can't be done any more.     It's been done again, said Mury grimly. And you don't know the halfof it. But—you will. I'll need you. As for your friends— The gunmuzzle shifted slightly to indicate the pilot and the engineer. Out ofthose clamps. You're going to ride this out in the portside airlock.     He had to repeat the command, in tones that snapped with menace, beforethey started with fumbling, rebellious hands to strip their armor fromthemselves. The burly engineer was muttering phrases of obscene fervor;the weedy young pilot was wild-eyed. The blond astrogator, sittingstill masked and apparently unmoved, demanded:     What do you think you're trying to do?     What do      you     think? demanded Mury in return. I'm taking the shipinto space. On schedule and on course—to meet the power shell. Theflame gun moved with a jerk. And as for you—what's your name?     Yet Arliess.     You want to make the trip alive, don't you, Yet Arliess?     The young astrogator stared at him and at the gun through maskinggoggles; then he sank into his seat with a slow shudder. Why, yes, hesaid as if in wonder, I do.      III       Shahrazad     drove steadily forward into deep space, vibrating slightlyto the tremendous thrust of her powerful engines. The small, crampedcabin was stiflingly hot to the three armored men who sat before itsbanked dials, watching their steady needles.     Ryd had blacked out, darkness washing into his eyes and consciousnessdraining from his head, as the space ship had pitched out intoemptiness over the end of the runway on Pi Mesa and Mury had cut in themaindrive. Pressure greater than anything he had ever felt had crushedhim; his voice had been snatched from his lips by those terrible forcesand lost beneath the opening thunder of the three-inch tubes. Up andup, while the acceleration climbed to seven gravities—and Ryd had lostevery sensation, not to regain them until Earth was dropping away underthe towship's keel.     A single gravity held them back and down in the tilted seats, and thecontrol panels seemed to curve half above them, their banks of lightsconfused with the stars coldly through the great nose window. In thecontrol room all sounds impinged on a background made up of the insecthum of air-purifiers, the almost supersonic whine of the fast-spinninggyroscopes somewhere behind them, the deep continuous growl of theengines.     Mury's voice broke through that steady murmur, coming from Ryd's right.You can unfasten your anticlamps, Ryd, he said dryly. That doesn'tmean you, to the young navigator, on his other hand as he sat inthe pilot's seat with his pressure-clamps thrown back and his glovedhands free to caress the multiplex controls before him. Clipped to thesloping dash at his left elbow was a loaded flame gun.     Ryd emerged, with much bungling, from his padded clamps, and shook hishead groggily as he ran a hand through his slightly thinning hair. Heventured shakily, Where are we?     Mury smiled slightly. Only our astrogator, he indicated Arliess,still masked and fettered, can tell you that with precision. Iunderstand only enough of astrogational practice to make sure that heis holding to the course outlined on the log. For that matter ... heis an intelligent young man and if he were not blinded by notions ofduty to an outworn system.... We are now somewhere near the orbit ofthe Moon. Isn't that right, Arliess?     The other did not seem to hear; he sat staring blindly before himthrough his goggles at the slowly-changing chart, where cryptic lightsburned, some moving like glowing paramecia along fine-traced luminoustracks.     Mury too sat silent and immobile for a minute or more. Then, abruptly,he inclined his universal chair far to the right, and his long frameseemed to tense oddly. His finger stabbed out one of the sparks oflight.     What's that, Arliess?     The astrogator broke his silence. A ship.     I know that well enough. What ship?     I supposed you had examined the log. It would have told you thatthat's the liner      Alborak     , out of Aeropolis with a diplomatic missionfor Mars.     Mury shook his head regretfully. That won't wash, Arliess. Even if yousuppose her off course, no liner aspace ever carried a tenth of thatdrive.     I don't know what you're talking about, said Arliess. But his voicewas raw and unsteady.     I'm talking about this. That ship is a warship, and it's looking forus—will intercept us inside of twenty minutes at the most!  <doc-sep>It was still musty in the narrow passage, between the closely-pressingwalls, beneath the great tubes and cable sheathings that fluted theceiling overhead. A stairway spiraled up on the right to the controlcupola somewhere overhead; even in the airtight gallery a thin filmof dust lay on every step. Up there were the meters and switches ofthe disused terminal facilities of the spaceport; beyond the metaldoor marked CAUTION, just beyond the stairwell, lay the long runwaydown which the ships of space had glided to be serviced, refueled, andlaunched into the sky once more by now dormant machines.     Wait, said Mury succinctly; he vanished up the spiral stair, hislong legs taking two steps at a time. After an aching minute's silence,he was back. All was clear as seen from the turret-windows overhead.     They emerged in shadow, hugging the wall. Almost a quarter of a mile tothe right the megalith of the Communications Tower, crowned with manylights where the signal-men sat godlike in its summit. Its floodlightsshed a vast oval of light out over the mesa, where the mile-longrunways—no longer polished mirror-like as in the days of Dynamopolis'glory—stretched away into the darkness of the table land. A handfulof odd ships—mere remnant of the hundreds that Pi Mesa port hadberthed—huddled under the solenoid wickets, as if driven together bythe chill of the thin, knife-like wind that blew across the mesa.     As the two paced slowly across the runways, Ryd had a sense ofprotective isolation in the vast impersonality of the spaceport.Surely, in this Titanic desolation of metal slabs and flat-roofedbuildings, dominated by the one great tower, total insignificance mustmean safety for them.     And indeed no guard challenged them. There were armed men watchingfor all intruders out on the desert beyond the runways, but onceinside, Ryd's borrowed blue seemed to serve as passport enough.Nonetheless, the passport's knees were shaking when they stood at last,inconspicuous still, at the shadowed base of the Communications Tower.     Not far off, a half-dozen dignitaries, huddled close together in themidst of these Cyclopean man-made things that dwarfed their policies,their principles and ambitions, stood talking rather nervously with twoofficers, aristocratically gaudy in the scarlet of the Martian Fleet.Blue-clad guardsmen of Earth watched from a distance—watched boredlyenough.     And out on the steel-stripped tarmac, under the solenoid of NumberTwo Runway, lay a towship, backed like a stegosaur with its massivemagnets—the      Shahrazad     , panting like a dragon amid rolling clouds ofsteam. She was plainly ready to go into space. The bottom dropped outof Ryd's stomach before he realized that a warning at least must besounded before the ship could lift. But that might come any moment now.     Relax, said Mury in a low voice. Nothing's gone wrong. We'll beaboard the      Shahrazad     when she lifts. For a moment his black eyesshifted, hardening, toward Runway Four. The Martian warship lay therebeyond the solenoid, a spiteful hundred-foot swordfish of steel, withblind gunvalves, row on row, along its sleek sides and turret-blisters.It had not yet been tugged onto the turntable; it could not be leavingagain very soon, though Earth weight was undoubtedly incommodingits crew. About it a few figures stood that were stiffly erect andimmobile, as tall as tall men. From head to toe they were scarlet.     Robots! gasped Ryd, clutching his companion's arm convulsively.Martian soldier robots!     They're unarmed, harmless. They aren't your police with built-inweapons. Only the humans are dangerous. But we've got to move. ForGod's sake, take it easy.     Ryd licked dry lips. Are we going—out into space?     Where else? said Mury.  <doc-sep>All at once, Mury came to a stop, and swung around to face himsquarely, hard eyes compelling. They were on an overpass, not farfrom where the vast, almost wholly deserted offices of the TriplanetFreighting Company sprawled over a square mile of city. A half-smiletwisted Mury's thin lips.     Don't misunderstand me, Ryd—you mean nothing at all to me as anindividual. But you're one of a vast mass of men for whom I amworking—the billions caught in the net of a corrupt government andsold as an economic prey to the ruthless masters of Mars. This, afterthey've borne all the hardships of a year of embargo, have offeredtheir hands willingly to the rebuilding of decadent Earth, only tobe refused by the weak leaders who can neither defy the enemy norcapitulate frankly to him.     Ryd was dazed. His mind had never been constructed to cope with suchideas and the past few years had not improved its capabilities. Areyou talking about the power cylinder? he demanded blurrily.     Mury cast a glance toward the Milky Way as if to descry the Martiancargo projectile somewhere up among its countless lights. He saidsimply, Yes.     I don't get it, mumbled Ryd, frowning. He found words that he hadheard somewhere a day or so before, in some bar or flophouse: Thepower cylinder is going to be the salvation of Earth. It's a shot inthe arm—no, right in the heart of Earth industry, here in Dynamopolis.It will turn the wheels and light the cities and—     To hell with that! snapped Mury, suddenly savage. His hands came upslightly, the fingers flexing; then dropped back to his sides. Don'tyou know you're repeating damnable lies?     Ryd could only stare, cringing and bewildered. Mury went on with apassion shocking after his smooth calm:     The power shell is aid, yes—but with what a price! It's the thirtypieces of silver for which the venal fools who rule our nations havesold the whole planet to Mars. Because they lack the courage andvision to retool Earth's plants and factories for the inescapableconflict, they're selling us out—making Earth, the first home of man,a colony of the Red Planet. Do you know what Earth is to the greatMartian land-owners?      Do you?      He paused out of breath; then finishedvenomously, Earth is a great pool of labor ready to be tapped, cheaperthan robots—cheap as      slaves     !     What about it? gulped Ryd, drawing away from the fanatic. What youwant      me     to do about it?     Mury took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. His face wasonce more bleakly impassive; only the mouth was an ugly line. We'regoing to do something about it, you and I. Tonight. Now.     Ryd was nearly sober. And wholly terrified. He got out chokingly,What's that mean?     The power shell—isn't coming in as planned.     You can't do that.           We     can, said Mury with a heavy accent on the first word. And thereare fifty thousand credits in it for you, Ryd. Are you with us?     Suspicion was chill reality now in Ryd's mind. And he knew one thingcertainly—if he refused now to accompany Mury, he would be killed, bythis man or another of his kind. For the secret power known only as      We     never took chances. Whispered-of, terrible, and world-embracing,desperate upshot of the times in its principles of dynamitism, war, andpanclasm—that was      We     .     The question hung in the air for a long moment. Then Ryd, withan effort, said, Sure. A moment later it struck him that themonosyllabic assent was suspicious; he added quickly, I got nothing tolose, see? It was, he realized, the cold truth.     You won't lose, said Mury. He seemed to relax. But the menace withwhich he had clothed himself clung, as he turned back on the way theyhad come.     Ryd followed dog-like, his feet in their worn shoes moving without hisvolition. He was frightened. Out of his very fright came a longing toplacate Mury, assure him that he, Ryd, was on the same side whateverhappened....     After some steps he stole a sidelong glance at his tall companion, andwhined, Where ... where we going now?     Mury paused in his long stride, removed a hand from a pocket of thegray topcoat that wrapped him as in somber thoughts. Wordlessly, hepointed as Ryd had known he would—toward where a pale man-made dawnseemed breaking over Pi Mesa.      II     One blow for freedom! said Mury with caught breath. His voice fellupon air scarcely stilled since the sodden thump of the blow that hadkilled the guard.     The body lay between them, face down on the graveled way in the inkymoon-shadow. On one side Pi Mesa stretched away two hundred yards todrop sharply into the night; on the other was the unlighted mass of thelong, continuous, low buildings that housed now unused fuel pumps andservicing equipment. Looking down at the dead huddle at his feet, alittle stunned by the reality of this, Ryd knew that he was in it now.He was caught in the machinery.     Mury hefted the length of steel in his hand once more, as if testingthe weight that had crushed a man's skull so easily. Then, with a shortwrist-flip, he sent it flying into the dried weeds which had over-grownthe aero field on the mesa's rim during the summer months after Stateorder had grounded all fliers in America.     All right, Ryd, he said coolly. Trade clothes with this fellow. I'vebrought you this far—you're taking me the rest of the way.     The rest of the way.     Ryd was still panting, and his side was paining from the strenuousexertion of the long climb up the side of the mountain, far from theguarded highway. His fingers, numbed by the cold of the high, thin air,shook as he knelt and fumbled with the zippers of the dead guard'suniform. The belted gun, however, was heavy and oddly comforting ashe clumsily buckled it about his hips. He knew enough of weaponsto recognize this as, not the usual paralyzer, but a flame pistol,powerful and deadly. He let his hand linger on its butt; then strongfingers tightened on his bony wrist, and he looked up with a start intothe sardonic black eyes of the Panclast.     No use now for firearms, said Mury. All the guns we could carrywouldn't help us if we were caught out there. That gun is just astage property for the little play we're going to give in about threeminutes—when you'll act a guardsman escorting me, a Poligerent ofDynamopolis, aboard the towship      Shahrazad     .     For a moment Ryd felt relief—he had hazily imagined that Mury's hatredof Mars and all things Martian might have led him to try to sabotagethe Martian warship which lay somewhere on the runways beyond the long,low buildings, and which would be closely guarded. But the towshipwould also be guarded ... he shivered in the cold, dry night air.     Mury had melted into the shadow a few yards away. There was a lightscraping, then a green flame sputtered, briefly lighting up his handsand face, and narrowing at once to a thin, singing needle of light.He had turned a pocket electron torch against the lock-mechanism of asmall, disused metal door.       Ryd watched in painful suspense. There was no sound in his ears savefor the hard, dry shrilling of the ray as it bit into the steel. Itseemed to be crying:      run, run     —but he remembered the power that knewhow to punish better than the law, and stood still, shivering.     The lock gave way and the door slipped aside. A light went on inside,and Ryd's heart stopped, backfired, and started again, raggedly. Thesame automatic mechanism that had turned the lights on had started theair-fresher, which picked up speed with a soft whine, sweeping out thelong-stale atmosphere. Mury motioned to Ryd to follow him in.  <doc-sep>The official-looking individual in the expensive topcoat and sport hathad reached the starboard airlock of the towship before anyone thoughtto question his authorization, escorted as he was by a blue-uniformedguardsman. When another sentry, pacing between runways a hundred yardsfrom the squat space vessel, paused to wonder, it was—as it cameabout—just a little too late.     The guard turned and swung briskly off to intercept the oddly-behavingpair, hand crowding the butt of his pistol, for he was growinguneasy. His alarm mounted rapidly, till he nearly sprained an anklein sprinting across the last of the two intervening runways, betweenthe solenoid wickets. Those metal arches, crowding one on the otherin perspective, formed a tunnel that effectively shielded the      Shahrazad's     airlocks from more distant view; the gang of notablesattracted by the occasion was already being shepherded back to safetyby the Communications guards, whose attention was thus well taken up.     The slight man in guardsman's blue glanced over his shoulder andvanished abruptly into the circular lock. His companion wheeled on thetopmost step, looking down with some irritation on his unhandsome face,but with no apparent doubt of his command of the situation.     Yes? he inquired frostily.     What goes on here? snapped the guard, frowning at the tall figuresilhouetted against the glow in the airlock. The crew's signaled allaboard and the ship lifts in two minutes. You ought to be—     I am Semul Mury, Poligerent for the City of Dynamopolis, interruptedthe tall man with asperity. The City is naturally interested in thedelivery of the power which will revivify our industries. He paused,sighed, shifting his weight to the next lower step of the gangway. Isuppose you'll want to re-check my credentials?     The guard was somewhat confused; a Poligerent, in ninth-centurybureaucracy, was a force to be reckoned with. But he contrived to nodwith an appearance of brusqueness.     Fully expecting official papers, signed and garnished with all thepompous seals of a chartered metropolis, the guard was dazed to receiveinstead a terrific left-handed foul to the pit of the stomach, and ashe reeled dizzily, retching and clawing for his gun, to find that gunno longer holstered but in the hand of the self-styled Poligerent,pointing at its licensed owner.     I think, Mury said quietly, flexing his left wrist with care thewhile his right held the gun steady, that you'd better come aboardwith us.     The guard was not more cowardly than the run of politically-appointedcivic guardsmen. But a flame gun kills more frightfully than theancient electric chair. He complied, grasping the railing with bothhands as he stumbled before Mury up the gangway—for he was still verysick indeed, wholly apart from his bewilderment, which was enormous.     Above, Ryd Randl waited in the lock, flattened against the curvedwall, white and jittering. The inner door was shut, an impenetrablecountersunk mirror of metal.     Cover him, Ryd, ordered Mury flatly. In obedience Ryd lugged outthe heavy flame pistol and pointed it; his finger was dangerouslytremulous on the firing lever. He moistened his lips to voice hisfears; but Mury, pocketing the other gun, threw the three-way switch onthe side panel, the switch that should have controlled the inner lock.     Nothing happened.     Oh, God. We're caught. We're trapped! The outer gangway had slid up,the lock wheezed shut, forming an impenetrable crypt of niosteel.  <doc-sep>Ryd had a bad moment before he saw that the face wasn't that of anyplain-clothes man he knew. For that matter, it didn't belong to anybodyhe had ever known—an odd, big-boned face, strikingly ugly, with abeak-nose that was yet not too large for the hard jaw or too bleak forthe thin mouth below it. An expensive transparent hat slanted over theface, and from its iridescent shadows gleamed eyes that were alert andalmost frighteningly black. Ryd noted that the man wore a dark-graycellotex of a sort rarely seen in joints like Burshis'.     Suppose we step outside, Ryd. I'd like to talk to you.     What's the idea? demanded Ryd, his small store of natural couragefloated to the top by alcohol.     The other seemed to realize that he was getting ahead of himself.He leaned back slightly, drew a deep breath, and said slowly anddistinctly. Would you care to make some money, my friend?           Huh?     Why, yeh—I guess so—     Then come with me. The hand still on his arm was insistent. In hisdaze, Ryd let himself be drawn away from the bar into the sluggishcrowd; then he suddenly remembered his unfinished drink, and madefrantic gestures. Deliberately misunderstanding, the tall strangerfumbled briefly, tossed a coin on the counter-top, and hustled Ryd out,past the blue-and-gold-lit      meloderge     that was softly pouring out itsendlessly changing music, through the swinging doors into the dark.     Outside, between lightless buildings, the still cold closed in onthem. They kept walking—so fast that Ryd began to lose his breath,long-accustomed though his lungs were to the high, thin air.     So you're Ryd Randl, repeated the stranger after a moment's silence.I might have known you. But I'd almost given up finding you tonight.     Ryd tried feebly to wrench free, stumbled. Look, he gasped. Ifyou're a cop, say so!     The other laughed shortly. No. I'm just a man about to offer you achance. For a come-back, Ryd—a chance to live again.... My name—youcan call me Mury.     Ryd was voiceless. Something seemed increasingly ominous about thetall, spare man at his side. He wished himself back in Burshis' withhis first free drink in a month. The thought of it brought tears to hiseyes.     How long have you been out of a job, Ryd?     Nine ... ten years. Say, what's it to you?     And why, Ryd?     Why...? Look, mister, I was a helio operator. He hunched his narrowshoulders and spread his hands in an habitual gesture of defeat. Damngood one, too—I was a foreman ten years ago. But I don't have thephysique for Mars—I might just have made it      then     , but I thought theplant was going to open again and—     And that was it. The almost airless Martian sky, with its burningactinic rays, is so favorable for the use of the helio-dynamic engine.And after the middle of the eighth century, robot labor gave Mars itsfull economic independence—and domination. For power is—power; andthere is the Restriction Act to keep men on Earth even if more than twoin ten could live healthily on the outer world.     Ten years ago, Mury nodded as if satisfied. That must have been thePower Company of North America—the main plant by Dynamopolis itself,that shut down in December, 809. They were the last to close downoutside the military bases in the Kun Lun.     Ryd was pacing beside him now. He felt a queer upsurge of confidence inthis strange man; for too long he had met no sympathy and all too fewmen who talked his language. He burst out: They wouldn't take me, damnthem! Said my record wasn't good enough for them. That is, I didn'thave a drag with any of the Poligerents.     I know all about your record, said Mury softly.     Ryd's suspicions came back abruptly, and he reverted to his oldkicked-dog manner. How do you know? And what's it to you?  <doc-sep>Rosalind and Ivan stared dumbly at each other across the egg-shapedsilver room, without apparent entrance or exit, in which they weresprawled. But their thoughts were no longer of thirty-odd milejourneys down through solid earth, or of how cool it was after theheat of the passage, or of how grotesque it was to be trapped here,the fragment of a marriage. They were both listening to the voice thatspoke inside their minds.     In a few minutes your bodies will be separated into layers one atomthick, capable of being shelved or stored in such a way as to endurealmost infinite accelerations. Single cells will cover acres of space.But do not be alarmed. The process will be painless and each particlewill be catalogued for future assembly. Your consciousness will endurethroughout the process.     Rosalind looked at her gold-shod toes. She was wondering,      will they gofirst, or my head? Or will I be peeled like an apple?       She looked at Ivan and knew he was thinking the same thing.  <doc-sep>She looked down quickly and recorded my name. It took her a littlelonger than necessary. In that time she recovered. Somewhat.     All right, she said finally, I'll make a search.     She turned to a row of buttons on a console in the center of the deskand began to press them in various combinations. A typer clicked away.She tore off a slip of paper, consulted it, and said, Informationdesired is in Bank 29. Please follow me.     Well, following her was a pleasure, anyway. I could watch the movementof her hips and torso as she walked. She was not tall, but long-leggedand extremely lithe. Graceful and rhythmic. Very, very feminine, almostbeyond standard in that respect. I felt blood throb in my temples andwas heartily ashamed of myself.     I would like to be in a mating booth with her, I thought, the fullauthorized twenty minutes. And I knew I was unconformist and therealization hardly scared me at all.     She led me down one of the long passageways.     A few moments later I said, Don't you sometimes get—well, prettylonely working here? Personal talk at a time like this wasn't approvedbehavior, but I couldn't help it.     She answered hesitantly, but at least she answered. She said, Notterribly. The cybs are company enough most of the time.     You don't get many visitors, then.     Not right here. N. & I. isn't a very popular section. Most people whocome to Govpub spend their time researching in the ancient manuscriptroom. The—er—social habits of the pre-atomic civilization.     I laughed. I knew what she meant, all right. Pre-atomics and theirideas about free mating always fascinated people. I moved up besideher. What's your name, by the way?     L-A-R-A 339/827.     I pronounced it. Lara. Lah-rah. That's beautiful. Fits you, too.  <doc-sep>Leaping to one side, impervious to the fall of the dancer, he avoidedthe murderous rush of the Martian youth, then he wheeled swiftly andplanted a sledge-hammer blow in that most vulnerable spot of allMartians, the spot just below their narrow, wasp-like waist, and as theMartian half-doubled over, he lefted him with a short jab to the chinthat staggered and all but dropped him.     The Martian's violet eyes were black with fury now. He staggered backand sucked in air, his face contorted with excruciating pain. But hewas not through. His powerful right shot like a blast straight forDennis' chest, striking like a piston just below the heart. Dennis tookit, flat-footed, without flinching; then he let his right ride overwith all the force at his command. It caught the Martian on the jaw andspun him like a top, the pale, imperious face went crimson as he slowlysagged to his knees and rolled to the impeccable mosaics of the floor.     Dennis, breathing heavily, stood over him until the internationalpolice arrived, and then he had the surprise of his life. Upon search,the police found a tiny, but fatal silvery tube holstered under hisleft arm-pit—an atomic-disintegrator, forbidden throughout theinterplanetary League. Only major criminals and space pirates stillwithout the law were known to possess them.     Looks like your brawl has turned out to be a piece of fool's luck,Brooke! The Police Lieutenant favored Dennis with a wry smile. IfI'm not mistaken this chap's a member of Bren Koerber's pirate crew.Who else could afford to risk his neck at the International, and havein his possession a disintegrator? Pity we have no complete recordson that devil's crew! Anyway, we'll radio the I.S.P., perhaps theyhave details on this dandy! He eyed admiringly the priceless Martianembroideries on the unconscious Martian's tunic, the costly border ofred, ocelandian fur, and the magnificent black      acerine     on his finger.     Dennis Brooke shrugged his shoulders, shoulders that would have put toshame the Athenian statues of another age. A faint, bitter smile curvedhis generous mouth. I'm grounded, Gillian, it'd take the capture ofKoerber himself to set me right with the I.S.P. again—you don't knowBertram! To him an infraction of rules is a major crime. Damn Venus!He reached for his glass of      Verbena     but the table had turned overduring the struggle, and the glass was a shattered mass of gleaming      Bacca-glas     shards. He laughed shortly as he became conscious of thevenomous stare of the Mercurian Dancer, of the excited voices of theguests and the emphatic disapproval of the Venusian proprietor whowas shocked at having a brawl in his ultra-expensive, ultra-exclusivePalace.     Better come to Headquarters with me, Dennis, the lieutenant saidgently. We'll say you captured him, and if he's Koerber's, thecredit's yours. A trip to Terra's what you need, Venus for you is ahoodoo!  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] ""In Saboteur of Space, what is Mury's demeanor and behavior like throughout the story?""","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is causing the widespread desolation among Earthmen, as depicted in Saboteur of Space? [SEP] <s>Lubiosa, who had interests in Thorabia, and many agents there, kept hisown counsel. His people were active in the matter and that was enoughfor him. He would report when the time was ripe.     Doubtless, said Zotul unexpectedly, for the youngest at a conferencewas expected to keep his mouth shut and applaud the decisions of hiselders, the Earthmen used all the metal on their planet in buildingthat ship. We cannot possibly bilk them of it; it is their only meansof transport.     Such frank expression of motive was unheard of, even in the secretconclave of conference. Only the speaker's youth could account for it.The speech drew scowls from the brothers and stern rebuke from Koltan.     When your opinion is wanted, we will ask you for it. Meantime,remember your position in the family.     Zotul bowed his head meekly, but he burned with resentment.     Listen to the boy, said the aged father. There is more wisdom in hishead than in all the rest of you. Forget the Earthmen and think only ofthe clay.     Zotul did not appreciate his father's approval, for it only earned hima beating as soon as the old man went to bed. It was a common enoughthing among the brothers Masur, as among everybody, to be frustrated intheir desires. However, they had Zotul to take it out upon, and theydid.     Still smarting, Zotul went back to his designing quarters and thoughtabout the Earthmen. If it was impossible to hope for much in the wayof metal from the Earthmen, what could one get from them? If he couldfigure this problem out, he might rise somewhat in the estimation ofhis brothers. That wouldn't take him out of the rank of scapegoat, ofcourse, but the beatings might become fewer and less severe.  <doc-sep>  Staying  alive had now become a fetishwith Jon.     On the sixteenth day, the Earthman realizedthat the Steel-Blues also were waitingfor the SP ship.     The extra-terrestrials had repaired theblue ship where the service station atomicray had struck. And they were doing a littletarget practice with plastic bubbles only afew miles above the asteroid.     When his chronometer clocked off thebeginning of the twenty-first day, Jon receiveda tumbler of the hemlock from thehands of No. 1 himself.     It is the hemlock, he chuckled, undiluted.Drink it and your torture is over.You will die before your SP ship is destroyed.     We have played with you long enough.Today we begin to toy with your SP ship.Drink up, Earthman, drink to enslavement.     Weak though he was Jon lunged to hisfeet, spilling the tumbler of liquid. It rancool along the plastic arm of his space suit.He changed his mind about throwing thecontents on No. 1.     With a smile he set the glass at his lipsand drank. Then he laughed at No. 1.     The SP ship will turn your ship intojelly.     No. 1 swept out, chuckling. Boast if youwill, Earthman, it's your last chance.     There was an exultation in Jon's heartthat deadened the hunger and washed awaythe nausea.     At last he knew what the hemlock was.     He sat on the pallet adjusting the littlepower-pack radio. The SP ship should nowbe within range of the set. The space patrolwas notorious for its accuracy in keeping toschedule. Seconds counted like years. Theyhad to be on the nose, or it meant disasteror death.     He sent out the call letters.     AX to SP-101 ... AX to SP-101 ... AXto SP-101 ...     Three times he sent the call, then begansending his message, hoping that his signalwas reaching the ship. He couldn't know ifthey answered. Though the power packcould get out a message over a vast distance,it could not pick up messages evenwhen backed by an SP ship's power unlessthe ship was only a few hundred milesaway.     The power pack was strictly a distresssignal.     He didn't know how long he'd beensending, nor how many times his wearyvoice had repeated the short but desperatemessage.     He kept watching the heavens and hoping.     Abruptly he knew the SP ship was coming,for the blue ship of the Steel-Blues wasrising silently from the asteroid.     Up and up it rose, then flames flickeredin a circle about its curious shape. The shipdisappeared, suddenly accelerating.     Jon Karyl strained his eyes.     Finally he looked away from the heavensto the two Steel-Blues who stood negligentlyoutside the goldfish bowl.     Once more, Jon used the stubray pistol.He marched out of the plastic igloo and rantoward the service station.     He didn't know how weak he was untilhe stumbled and fell only a few feet fromhis prison.     The Steel-Blues just watched him.     He crawled on, around the circular pit inthe sward of the asteroid where one Steel-Bluehad shown him the power of hisweapon.     He'd been crawling through a nightmarefor years when the quiet voice penetratedhis dulled mind.     Take it easy, Karyl. You're amongfriends.     He pried open his eyes with his will. Hesaw the blue and gold of a space guard'suniform. He sighed and drifted into unconsciousness.   <doc-sep>   A Gift From Earth     By MANLY BANISTER     Illustrated by KOSSIN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction August 1955.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]         Except for transportation, it was absolutely       free ... but how much would the freight cost?        It is an outrage, said Koltan of the House of Masur, that theEarthmen land among the Thorabians!     Zotul, youngest of the Masur brothers, stirred uneasily. Personally, hewas in favor of the coming of the Earthmen to the world of Zur.     At the head of the long, shining table sat old Kalrab Masur, in hisdotage, but still giving what he could of aid and comfort to thePottery of Masur, even though nobody listened to him any more andhe knew it. Around the table sat the six brothers—Koltan, eldestand Director of the Pottery; Morvan, his vice-chief; Singula, theirtreasurer; Thendro, sales manager; Lubiosa, export chief; and last inthe rank of age, Zotul, who was responsible for affairs of design.     Behold, my sons, said Kalrab, stroking his scanty beard. What arethese Earthmen to worry about? Remember the clay. It is our strengthand our fortune. It is the muscle and bone of our trade. Earthmen maycome and Earthmen may go, but clay goes on forever ... and with it, thefame and fortune of the House of Masur.     It      is     a damned imposition, agreed Morvan, ignoring his father'sphilosophical attitude. They could have landed just as easily here inLor.     The Thorabians will lick up the gravy, said Singula, whose mind ranrather to matters of financial aspect, and leave us the grease.     By this, he seemed to imply that the Thorabians would rob the Earthmen,which the Lorians would not. The truth was that all on Zur were pantingto get their hands on that marvelous ship, which was all of metal, avery scarce commodity on Zur, worth billions of ken.  <doc-sep>   QUEST OF THIG     By BASIL WELLS     Thig of Ortha was the vanguard of the conquering     HORDE. He had blasted across trackless space     to subdue a defenseless world—only to meet on     Earth emotions that were more deadly than weapons.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1942.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Thig carefully smoothed the dark sand and seaweed of the lonely beachover the metal lid of the flexible ringed tunnel that linked the grubbyship from another planet with the upper air. He looked out across theheaving waters of the Sound toward Connecticut. He stared appraisinglyaround at the luxuriant green growth of foliage further inland; andstarted toward the little stretch of trees and brush, walking carefullybecause of the lesser gravitation.     Thig was shorter than the average Earthman—although on Ortha hewas well above the average in height—but his body was thick andpowerfully muscled. His skull was well-shaped and large; his featureswere regular, perhaps a trifle oversize, and his hair and eyes werea curiously matching blend of reddish brown. Oddest of all, he woreno garments, other than the necessary belt and straps to support hisrod-like weapon of white metal and his pouches for food and specimens.     The Orthan entered the narrow strip of trees and crossed to thelittle-used highway on the other side. Here he patiently sat down towait for an Earthman or an Earthwoman to pass. His task now was tobring a native, intact if possible, back to the carefully buried spacecruiser where his two fellows and himself would drain the creature'smentality of all its knowledge. In this way they could learn whether aplanet was suited for colonization by later swarms of Orthans.     Already they had charted over a hundred celestial bodies but of themall only three had proven worthy of consideration. This latest planet,however, 72-P-3 on the chart, appeared to be an ideal world in everyrespect. Sunlight, plenty of water and a dense atmospheric envelopemade of 72-P-3 a paradise among planets.     The explorer from another world crouched into the concealment of aleafy shrub. A creature was approaching. Its squat body was coveredwith baggy strips of bluish cloth and it carried a jointed rod of metaland wood in its paw. It walked upright as did the men of Ortha.     Thig's cold eyes opened a trifle wider as he stared into the thing'sstupid face. It was as though he was looking into a bit of polishedmetal at the reflection of himself!     The Earthman was opposite now and he must waste no more precioustime. The mighty muscles of the Orthan sent him hurtling across theintervening space in two prodigious bounds, and his hands clampedacross the mouth and neck of the stranger....  <doc-sep>Hatcher returned to his laboratory gloomily.     It was just like the council to put the screws on; they had areputation for demanding results at any cost—even at the cost ofdestroying the only thing you had that would make results possible.     Hatcher did not like the idea of endangering the Earthman. It cannotbe said that he was emotionally involved; it was not pity or sympathythat caused him to regret the dangers in moving too fast towardcommunication. Not even Hatcher had quite got over the revoltingphysical differences between the Earthman and his own people. ButHatcher did not want him destroyed. It had been difficult enoughgetting him here.     Hatcher checked through the members that he had left with the rest ofhis team and discovered that there were no immediate emergencies, so hetook time to eat. In Hatcher's race this was accomplished in ways notentirely pleasant to Earthmen. A slit in the lower hemisphere of hisbody opened, like a purse, emitting a thin, pussy, fetid fluid whichHatcher caught and poured into a disposal trough at the side of theeating room. He then stuffed the slit with pulpy vegetation the textureof kelp; it closed, and his body was supplied with nourishment foranother day.     He returned quickly to the room.     His second in command was busy, but one of the other team workersreported—nothing new—and asked about Hatcher's appearance before thecouncil. Hatcher passed the question off. He considered telling hisstaff about the disappearance of the Central Masses team member, butdecided against it. He had not been told it was secret. On the otherhand, he had not been told it was not. Something of this importance wasnot lightly to be gossiped about. For endless generations the threatof the Old Ones had hung over his race, those queer, almost mythicalbeings from the Central Masses of the galaxy. One brush with them, inages past, had almost destroyed Hatcher's people. Only by running andhiding, bearing one of their planets with them and abandoning it—withits population—as a decoy, had they arrived at all.     Now they had detected mapping parties of the Old Ones dangerously nearthe spiral arm of the galaxy in which their planet was located, theyhad begun the Probe Teams to find some way of combating them, or offleeing again.     But it seemed that the Probe Teams themselves might be betraying theirexistence to their enemies—     Hatcher!     The call was urgent; he hurried to see what it was about. It was hissecond in command, very excited. What is it? Hatcher demanded.     Wait....     Hatcher was patient; he knew his assistant well. Obviously somethingwas about to happen. He took the moment to call his members back tohim for feeding; they dodged back to their niches on his skin, fittedthemselves into their vestigial slots, poured back their wastes intohis own circulation and ingested what they needed from the meal he hadjust taken.... Now! cried the assistant. Look!     At what passed among Hatcher's people for a viewing console an imagewas forming. Actually it was the assistant himself who formed it, not acathode trace or projected shadow; but it showed what it was meant toshow.     Hatcher was startled. Another one! And—is it a different species? Ormerely a different sex?     Study the probe for yourself, the assistant invited.     Hatcher studied him frostily; his patience was not, after all, endless.No matter, he said at last. Bring the other one in.     And then, in a completely different mood, We may need him badly. Wemay be in the process of killing our first one now.     Killing him, Hatcher?     Hatcher rose and shook himself, his mindless members floating away likepuppies dislodged from suck. Council's orders, he said. We've got togo into Stage Two of the project at once.      III     Before Stage Two began, or before Herrell McCray realized it had begun,he had an inspiration.     The dark was absolute, but he remembered where the spacesuit had beenand groped his way to it and, yes, it had what all spacesuits had tohave. It had a light. He found the toggle that turned it on and pressedit.     Light. White, flaring, Earthly light, that showed everything—evenhimself.     God bless, he said, almost beside himself with joy. Whatever thatpinkish, dancing halo had been, it had thrown him into a panic; nowthat he could see his own hand again, he could blame the weird effectson some strange property of the light.     At the moment he heard the click that was the beginning of Stage Two.     He switched off the light and stood for a moment, listening.     For a second he thought he heard the far-off voice, quiet, calm andalmost hopeless, that he had sensed hours before; but then that wasgone. Something else was gone. Some faint mechanical sound that hadhardly registered at the time, but was not missing. And there was,perhaps, a nice new sound that had not been there before; a veryfaint, an almost inaudible elfin hiss.     McCray switched the light on and looked around. There seemed to be nochange.     And yet, surely, it was warmer in here.     He could see no difference; but perhaps, he thought, he could smellone. The unpleasant halogen odor from the grating was surely strongernow. He stood there, perplexed.     A tinny little voice from the helmet of the space suit said sharply,amazement in its tone, McCray, is that you? Where the devil are youcalling from?     He forgot smell, sound and temperature and leaped for the suit. Thisis Herrell McCray, he cried. I'm in a room of some sort, apparentlyon a planet of approximate Earth mass. I don't know—     McCray! cried the tiny voice in his ear. Where are you? This is      Jodrell Bank     calling. Answer, please!     I      am     answering, damn it, he roared. What took you so long?     Herrell McCray, droned the tiny voice in his ear, Herrell McCray,Herrell McCray, this is      Jodrell Bank     responding to your message,acknowledge please. Herrell McCray, Herrell McCray....     It kept on, and on.     McCray took a deep breath and thought. Something was wrong. Either theydidn't hear him, which meant the radio wasn't transmitting, or—no.That was not it; they      had     heard him, because they were responding.But it seemed to take them so long....     Abruptly his face went white. Took them so long! He cast back in hismind, questing for a fact, unable to face its implications. When wasit he called them? Two hours ago? Three?     Did that mean—did it      possibly     mean—that there was a lag of an houror two each way? Did it, for example, mean that at the speed of hissuit's pararadio, millions of times faster than light, it took      hours     to get a message to the ship and back?     And if so ... where in the name of heaven was he?  <doc-sep>Funny, I hadn't thought about mating until it became impossible. Iremember the first time, out of sheer idleness, I wandered into aEugenic Center. I filled out my form very carefully and submitted itfor analysis and assignment. The clerk saw my name, and did the usualdouble-take. He coughed and swallowed and fidgeted.     He said, Of course you understand that we must submit yourapplication to the woman authorized to spend time in the mating boothswith you, and that she has the right to refuse.     Yes, I understand that.     M'm, he said, and dismissed me with a nod.     I waited for a call in the next few weeks, still hoping, but I knewno woman would consent to meet a man with my name, let alone enter amating booth with him.     The urge to reproduce myself became unbearable. I concocted all sortsof wild schemes.     I might infract socially and be classified a nonconform and sent toMarscol. I'd heard rumors that in that desolate land, on that desolateplanet, both mingling and mating were rather disgustingly unrestricted.Casual mating would be terribly dangerous, of course, with all the wildirradiated genes from the atomic decade still around, but I felt I'd bewilling to risk that. Well, almost....     About then I began to have these dreams. As I've told you, in the dreamthere was only this woman's seductive voice. The first time I heard itI awoke in a warm sweat and swore something had gone wrong with thesleep-learner. You never hear the actual words with this machine, ofcourse; you simply absorb the concepts unconsciously. Still, it seemedan explanation. I checked thoroughly. Nothing wrong.     The next night I heard the woman's voice again.           Try it     , she said.       Do it. Start tomorrow to get your name changed.There will be a way. There must be a way. The rules are so mixed upthat a clever man can do almost anything. Do it, please—for me.       <doc-sep>I drew myself up to my full height—and noticed in irritation it wasstill an inch less than Quade's. I don't understand you men. Look atyourself, Quade. You've been busted to Ordinary Spaceman for just thatkind of thinking, for relying on tradition, on things that have workedbefore. Not only your thinking is slipshod, you've grown careless abouteverything else, even your own life.     Just a minute, Captain. I've never been 'busted.' In the ExplorationService, we regard Ordinary Spaceman as our highest rank. With myhazard pay, I get more hard cash than      you     do, and I'm closer toretirement.     That's a shallow excuse for complacency.     Complacency! I've seen ten thousand wonders in twenty years of space,with a million variations. But the patterns repeat themselves. We learnto know what to expect, so maybe we can't maintain the reactionarycaution the service likes in officers.     I resent the word 'reactionary,' Spaceman! In civilian life, I wasa lapidary and I learned the value of deliberation. But I never gottoo cataleptic to tap a million-dollar gem, which is more than mycontemporaries can say, many of 'em.     Captain Gavin, Quade said patiently, you must realize that anoutsider like you, among a crew of skilled spacemen, can never be morethan a figurehead.     Was this the way I was to be treated? Why, this man had deliberatelyinsulted me, his captain. I controlled myself, remembering thefamiliarity that had always existed between members of a crew workingunder close conditions, from the time of the ancient submarines and thefirst orbital ships.     Quade, I said, there's only one way for us to find out which of usis right about the cause of our scanning blackout.     We go out and find the reason.     Exactly. We go. You and me. I hope you can stand my company.     I'm not sure I can, he answered reluctantly. My hazard pay doesn'tcover exploring with rookies. With all due respect, Captain.     I clapped him on the shoulder. But, man, you have just been tellingme all we had to worry about was common transphasia. A man with yourexperience could protect himself and cover even a rookie, under suchfamiliar conditions—right?     Yes, sir, I suppose I could, Quade said, bitterly aware he had lostout somewhere and hoping that it wasn't the start of a trend.  <doc-sep>Trembling with excitement at this news from their book-keeper, Koltancalled an emergency meeting. He even routed old Kalrab out of hissenile stupor for the occasion, on the off chance that the old manmight still have a little wit left that could be helpful.     Note, Koltan announced in a shaky voice, that the Earthmen undermineour business, and he read off the figures.     Perhaps, said Zotul, it is a good thing also, as you said before,and will result in something even better for us.     Koltan frowned, and Zotul, in fear of another beating, instantlysubsided.     They are replacing our high-quality ceramic ware with inferiorterrestrial junk, Koltan went on bitterly. It is only the glamor thatsells it, of course, but before the people get the shine out of theireyes, we can be ruined.     The brothers discussed the situation for an hour, and all the whileFather Kalrab sat and pulled his scanty whiskers. Seeing that they gotnowhere with their wrangle, he cleared his throat and spoke up.     My sons, you forget it is not the Earthmen themselves at the bottomof your trouble, but the      things     of Earth. Think of the telegraph andthe newspaper, how these spread news of every shipment from Earth.The merchandise of the Earthmen is put up for sale by means of thesenewspapers, which also are the property of the Earthmen. The people areintrigued by these advertisements, as they are called, and flock tobuy. Now, if you would pull a tooth from the kwi that bites you, youmight also have advertisements of your own.     Alas for that suggestion, no newspaper would accept advertisingfrom the House of Masur; all available space was occupied by theadvertisements of the Earthmen.     In their dozenth conference since that first and fateful one, thebrothers Masur decided upon drastic steps. In the meantime, severalthings had happened. For one, old Kalrab had passed on to his immortalrest, but this made no real difference. For another, the Earthmen hadprocured legal authority to prospect the planet for metals, of whichthey found a good deal, but they told no one on Zur of this. Whatthey did mention was the crude oil and natural gas they discoveredin the underlayers of the planet's crust. Crews of Zurians, workingunder supervision of the Earthmen, laid pipelines from the gas and oilregions to every major and minor city on Zur.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is causing the widespread desolation among Earthmen, as depicted in Saboteur of Space?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What can you tell me about the personality of Ryd in Saboteur of Space? [SEP] <s>  Saboteur of Space     By ROBERT ABERNATHY     Fresh power was coming to Earth, energy     which would bring life to a dying planet.     Only two men stood in its way, one a cowardly     rat, the other a murderous martyr; both pawns     in a cosmic game where death moved his chessmen     of fate—and even the winner would lose.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Spring 1944.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Ryd Randl stood, slouching a little, in the darkened footway, andwatched the sky over Dynamopolis come alive with searchlights. Theshuttered glow of Burshis' Stumble Inn was only a few yards off to hisright, but even that lodestone failed before the novel interest of aship about to ground in the one-time Port of Ten Thousand Ships.     Now he made out the flicker of the braking drive a mile or sooverhead, and presently soft motor thunder came down to blanket thealmost lightless city with sound. A beam swayed through the throbbingdarkness, caught the descending ship and held it, a small gleamingminnow slipping through the dark heavens. A faint glow rose from PiMesa, where the spaceport lay above the city, as a runway lightedup—draining the last reserves of the city's stored power, but drainingthem gladly now that, in those autumn days of the historic year 819,relief was in sight.     Ryd shrugged limply; the play was meaningless to him. He turned toshuffle down the inviting ramp into the glowing interior of Burshis'dive.     The place was crowded with men and smoke. Perhaps half the former wereasleep, on tables or on the floor; but for the few places like Burshis'which were still open under the power shortage, many would have frozen,these days, in the chilly nights at fourteen thousand feet. ForDynamopolis sprawled atop the world, now as in the old days when it hadbeen built to be the power center of North America.     The rocket blasts crescendoed and died up on Pi Mesa as Ryd wedgedhimself with difficulty into the group along the bar. If anyonerecognized him, they showed it only by looking fixedly at somethingelse. Only Burshis Yuns kept his static smile and nodded withsurprising friendliness at Ryd's pinched, old-young face.     Ryd was startled by the nod. Burshis finished serving another customerand maneuvered down the stained chrome-and-synthyl bar. Ryd washeartened.     Say, Burshis, he started nervously, as the bulky man halted with hisback to him. But Burshis turned, still smiling, shaking his head sothat his jowls quivered.     No loans, he said flatly. But just one on the house, Ryd.     The drink almost spilled itself in Ryd's hand. Clutching itconvulsively, he made his eyes narrow and said suspiciously, What yousetting 'em up for, Burshis? It's the first time since—     Burshis' smile stayed put. He said affably, Didn't you hear that shipthat just came down on the Mesa? That was the ship from Mars—theescort they were sending with the power cylinder. The power's comingin again. He turned to greet a coin-tapping newcomer, added over hisshoulder: You know what that means, Ryd. Some life around here again.Jobs for all the bums in this town—even for you.     He left Ryd frowning, thinking fuzzily. A warming gulp seemed to clearhis head. Jobs. So they thought they could put that over on him again,huh? Well, he'd show them. He was smart; he was a damn good helioman—no, that had been ten years ago. But now he was out of the habitof working, anyway. No job for Ryd Randl. They gave him one once andthen took it away. He drank still more deeply.     The man on Ryd's immediate right leaned toward him. He laid a hand onhis arm, gripping it hard, and said quietly: So you're Ryd Randl.  <doc-sep>Mury smiled with supernal calm. We won't be here long, he said.Then, to quiet Ryd's fears, he went on: The central control panel andthe three local switches inside, between, and outside the locks areon the circuit in that order. Unless the locks were closed from theswitch just beyond the inner lock, that lock will open when the centralcontrol panel is cut out in preparation for lifting.     Almost as he paused and drew breath, a light sprang out over the switchhe had closed and the inner lock swung silently free of its gaskets.Ryd felt a trembling relief; but Mury's voice lashed out like a whip ashe slipped cat-like into the passage.     Keep him covered. Back out of the lock.     Ryd backed—the white, tense face of the prisoner holding his ownnervous gaze—and, almost out of the lock, stumbled over the metalpressure rings. And the gun was out of his unsure grip, clatteringsomewhere near his slithering feet, as he started to fall.     He saw the guardsman hurl himself forward; then he was flung spinning,back against the engine-room door. In a flash, even as he struggledto keep on his feet, he saw the man in the airlock coming up from acrouch, shifting the pistol in his right hand to reach its firinglever; he saw Mury sidestep swiftly and throw the master control switchoutside.     The inner lock whooshed shut, barely missing Ryd. At the same instant,the flame gun lighted locks and passage with one terrific flash, and ascorched, discolored spot appeared on the beveled metal of the oppositelock a foot from Mury's right shoulder.     You damned clumsy little fool— said Mury with soft intensity. Then,while the air around the metal walls still buzzed and snapped withblue sparks, he whirled and went up the control-room gangway in twoquick bounds. Even as he went the flame gun thundered again in thestarboard airlock.     Mury was just in time, for the pilot had been about to flash Ready tothe Communications Tower when the explosions had given him pause. Butthe latter and his two companions were neither ready nor armed; clampedin their seats at the controls, already marked, they were helpless inan instant before the leveled menace of the gun. And the imprisonedguardsman, having wasted most of his charges, was helpless, too, in hislittle cell of steel.     It's been tried before, said one of the masked men. He had a blond,youthful thatch and a smooth healthy face below the mask, together withan astrogator's triangled stars which made him      ex officio     the brainsof the vessel. Stealing a ship—it can't be done any more.     It's been done again, said Mury grimly. And you don't know the halfof it. But—you will. I'll need you. As for your friends— The gunmuzzle shifted slightly to indicate the pilot and the engineer. Out ofthose clamps. You're going to ride this out in the portside airlock.     He had to repeat the command, in tones that snapped with menace, beforethey started with fumbling, rebellious hands to strip their armor fromthemselves. The burly engineer was muttering phrases of obscene fervor;the weedy young pilot was wild-eyed. The blond astrogator, sittingstill masked and apparently unmoved, demanded:     What do you think you're trying to do?     What do      you     think? demanded Mury in return. I'm taking the shipinto space. On schedule and on course—to meet the power shell. Theflame gun moved with a jerk. And as for you—what's your name?     Yet Arliess.     You want to make the trip alive, don't you, Yet Arliess?     The young astrogator stared at him and at the gun through maskinggoggles; then he sank into his seat with a slow shudder. Why, yes, hesaid as if in wonder, I do.      III       Shahrazad     drove steadily forward into deep space, vibrating slightlyto the tremendous thrust of her powerful engines. The small, crampedcabin was stiflingly hot to the three armored men who sat before itsbanked dials, watching their steady needles.     Ryd had blacked out, darkness washing into his eyes and consciousnessdraining from his head, as the space ship had pitched out intoemptiness over the end of the runway on Pi Mesa and Mury had cut in themaindrive. Pressure greater than anything he had ever felt had crushedhim; his voice had been snatched from his lips by those terrible forcesand lost beneath the opening thunder of the three-inch tubes. Up andup, while the acceleration climbed to seven gravities—and Ryd had lostevery sensation, not to regain them until Earth was dropping away underthe towship's keel.     A single gravity held them back and down in the tilted seats, and thecontrol panels seemed to curve half above them, their banks of lightsconfused with the stars coldly through the great nose window. In thecontrol room all sounds impinged on a background made up of the insecthum of air-purifiers, the almost supersonic whine of the fast-spinninggyroscopes somewhere behind them, the deep continuous growl of theengines.     Mury's voice broke through that steady murmur, coming from Ryd's right.You can unfasten your anticlamps, Ryd, he said dryly. That doesn'tmean you, to the young navigator, on his other hand as he sat inthe pilot's seat with his pressure-clamps thrown back and his glovedhands free to caress the multiplex controls before him. Clipped to thesloping dash at his left elbow was a loaded flame gun.     Ryd emerged, with much bungling, from his padded clamps, and shook hishead groggily as he ran a hand through his slightly thinning hair. Heventured shakily, Where are we?     Mury smiled slightly. Only our astrogator, he indicated Arliess,still masked and fettered, can tell you that with precision. Iunderstand only enough of astrogational practice to make sure that heis holding to the course outlined on the log. For that matter ... heis an intelligent young man and if he were not blinded by notions ofduty to an outworn system.... We are now somewhere near the orbit ofthe Moon. Isn't that right, Arliess?     The other did not seem to hear; he sat staring blindly before himthrough his goggles at the slowly-changing chart, where cryptic lightsburned, some moving like glowing paramecia along fine-traced luminoustracks.     Mury too sat silent and immobile for a minute or more. Then, abruptly,he inclined his universal chair far to the right, and his long frameseemed to tense oddly. His finger stabbed out one of the sparks oflight.     What's that, Arliess?     The astrogator broke his silence. A ship.     I know that well enough. What ship?     I supposed you had examined the log. It would have told you thatthat's the liner      Alborak     , out of Aeropolis with a diplomatic missionfor Mars.     Mury shook his head regretfully. That won't wash, Arliess. Even if yousuppose her off course, no liner aspace ever carried a tenth of thatdrive.     I don't know what you're talking about, said Arliess. But his voicewas raw and unsteady.     I'm talking about this. That ship is a warship, and it's looking forus—will intercept us inside of twenty minutes at the most!  <doc-sep>Ryd had a bad moment before he saw that the face wasn't that of anyplain-clothes man he knew. For that matter, it didn't belong to anybodyhe had ever known—an odd, big-boned face, strikingly ugly, with abeak-nose that was yet not too large for the hard jaw or too bleak forthe thin mouth below it. An expensive transparent hat slanted over theface, and from its iridescent shadows gleamed eyes that were alert andalmost frighteningly black. Ryd noted that the man wore a dark-graycellotex of a sort rarely seen in joints like Burshis'.     Suppose we step outside, Ryd. I'd like to talk to you.     What's the idea? demanded Ryd, his small store of natural couragefloated to the top by alcohol.     The other seemed to realize that he was getting ahead of himself.He leaned back slightly, drew a deep breath, and said slowly anddistinctly. Would you care to make some money, my friend?           Huh?     Why, yeh—I guess so—     Then come with me. The hand still on his arm was insistent. In hisdaze, Ryd let himself be drawn away from the bar into the sluggishcrowd; then he suddenly remembered his unfinished drink, and madefrantic gestures. Deliberately misunderstanding, the tall strangerfumbled briefly, tossed a coin on the counter-top, and hustled Ryd out,past the blue-and-gold-lit      meloderge     that was softly pouring out itsendlessly changing music, through the swinging doors into the dark.     Outside, between lightless buildings, the still cold closed in onthem. They kept walking—so fast that Ryd began to lose his breath,long-accustomed though his lungs were to the high, thin air.     So you're Ryd Randl, repeated the stranger after a moment's silence.I might have known you. But I'd almost given up finding you tonight.     Ryd tried feebly to wrench free, stumbled. Look, he gasped. Ifyou're a cop, say so!     The other laughed shortly. No. I'm just a man about to offer you achance. For a come-back, Ryd—a chance to live again.... My name—youcan call me Mury.     Ryd was voiceless. Something seemed increasingly ominous about thetall, spare man at his side. He wished himself back in Burshis' withhis first free drink in a month. The thought of it brought tears to hiseyes.     How long have you been out of a job, Ryd?     Nine ... ten years. Say, what's it to you?     And why, Ryd?     Why...? Look, mister, I was a helio operator. He hunched his narrowshoulders and spread his hands in an habitual gesture of defeat. Damngood one, too—I was a foreman ten years ago. But I don't have thephysique for Mars—I might just have made it      then     , but I thought theplant was going to open again and—     And that was it. The almost airless Martian sky, with its burningactinic rays, is so favorable for the use of the helio-dynamic engine.And after the middle of the eighth century, robot labor gave Mars itsfull economic independence—and domination. For power is—power; andthere is the Restriction Act to keep men on Earth even if more than twoin ten could live healthily on the outer world.     Ten years ago, Mury nodded as if satisfied. That must have been thePower Company of North America—the main plant by Dynamopolis itself,that shut down in December, 809. They were the last to close downoutside the military bases in the Kun Lun.     Ryd was pacing beside him now. He felt a queer upsurge of confidence inthis strange man; for too long he had met no sympathy and all too fewmen who talked his language. He burst out: They wouldn't take me, damnthem! Said my record wasn't good enough for them. That is, I didn'thave a drag with any of the Poligerents.     I know all about your record, said Mury softly.     Ryd's suspicions came back abruptly, and he reverted to his oldkicked-dog manner. How do you know? And what's it to you?  <doc-sep>It was still musty in the narrow passage, between the closely-pressingwalls, beneath the great tubes and cable sheathings that fluted theceiling overhead. A stairway spiraled up on the right to the controlcupola somewhere overhead; even in the airtight gallery a thin filmof dust lay on every step. Up there were the meters and switches ofthe disused terminal facilities of the spaceport; beyond the metaldoor marked CAUTION, just beyond the stairwell, lay the long runwaydown which the ships of space had glided to be serviced, refueled, andlaunched into the sky once more by now dormant machines.     Wait, said Mury succinctly; he vanished up the spiral stair, hislong legs taking two steps at a time. After an aching minute's silence,he was back. All was clear as seen from the turret-windows overhead.     They emerged in shadow, hugging the wall. Almost a quarter of a mile tothe right the megalith of the Communications Tower, crowned with manylights where the signal-men sat godlike in its summit. Its floodlightsshed a vast oval of light out over the mesa, where the mile-longrunways—no longer polished mirror-like as in the days of Dynamopolis'glory—stretched away into the darkness of the table land. A handfulof odd ships—mere remnant of the hundreds that Pi Mesa port hadberthed—huddled under the solenoid wickets, as if driven together bythe chill of the thin, knife-like wind that blew across the mesa.     As the two paced slowly across the runways, Ryd had a sense ofprotective isolation in the vast impersonality of the spaceport.Surely, in this Titanic desolation of metal slabs and flat-roofedbuildings, dominated by the one great tower, total insignificance mustmean safety for them.     And indeed no guard challenged them. There were armed men watchingfor all intruders out on the desert beyond the runways, but onceinside, Ryd's borrowed blue seemed to serve as passport enough.Nonetheless, the passport's knees were shaking when they stood at last,inconspicuous still, at the shadowed base of the Communications Tower.     Not far off, a half-dozen dignitaries, huddled close together in themidst of these Cyclopean man-made things that dwarfed their policies,their principles and ambitions, stood talking rather nervously with twoofficers, aristocratically gaudy in the scarlet of the Martian Fleet.Blue-clad guardsmen of Earth watched from a distance—watched boredlyenough.     And out on the steel-stripped tarmac, under the solenoid of NumberTwo Runway, lay a towship, backed like a stegosaur with its massivemagnets—the      Shahrazad     , panting like a dragon amid rolling clouds ofsteam. She was plainly ready to go into space. The bottom dropped outof Ryd's stomach before he realized that a warning at least must besounded before the ship could lift. But that might come any moment now.     Relax, said Mury in a low voice. Nothing's gone wrong. We'll beaboard the      Shahrazad     when she lifts. For a moment his black eyesshifted, hardening, toward Runway Four. The Martian warship lay therebeyond the solenoid, a spiteful hundred-foot swordfish of steel, withblind gunvalves, row on row, along its sleek sides and turret-blisters.It had not yet been tugged onto the turntable; it could not be leavingagain very soon, though Earth weight was undoubtedly incommodingits crew. About it a few figures stood that were stiffly erect andimmobile, as tall as tall men. From head to toe they were scarlet.     Robots! gasped Ryd, clutching his companion's arm convulsively.Martian soldier robots!     They're unarmed, harmless. They aren't your police with built-inweapons. Only the humans are dangerous. But we've got to move. ForGod's sake, take it easy.     Ryd licked dry lips. Are we going—out into space?     Where else? said Mury.  <doc-sep>All at once, Mury came to a stop, and swung around to face himsquarely, hard eyes compelling. They were on an overpass, not farfrom where the vast, almost wholly deserted offices of the TriplanetFreighting Company sprawled over a square mile of city. A half-smiletwisted Mury's thin lips.     Don't misunderstand me, Ryd—you mean nothing at all to me as anindividual. But you're one of a vast mass of men for whom I amworking—the billions caught in the net of a corrupt government andsold as an economic prey to the ruthless masters of Mars. This, afterthey've borne all the hardships of a year of embargo, have offeredtheir hands willingly to the rebuilding of decadent Earth, only tobe refused by the weak leaders who can neither defy the enemy norcapitulate frankly to him.     Ryd was dazed. His mind had never been constructed to cope with suchideas and the past few years had not improved its capabilities. Areyou talking about the power cylinder? he demanded blurrily.     Mury cast a glance toward the Milky Way as if to descry the Martiancargo projectile somewhere up among its countless lights. He saidsimply, Yes.     I don't get it, mumbled Ryd, frowning. He found words that he hadheard somewhere a day or so before, in some bar or flophouse: Thepower cylinder is going to be the salvation of Earth. It's a shot inthe arm—no, right in the heart of Earth industry, here in Dynamopolis.It will turn the wheels and light the cities and—     To hell with that! snapped Mury, suddenly savage. His hands came upslightly, the fingers flexing; then dropped back to his sides. Don'tyou know you're repeating damnable lies?     Ryd could only stare, cringing and bewildered. Mury went on with apassion shocking after his smooth calm:     The power shell is aid, yes—but with what a price! It's the thirtypieces of silver for which the venal fools who rule our nations havesold the whole planet to Mars. Because they lack the courage andvision to retool Earth's plants and factories for the inescapableconflict, they're selling us out—making Earth, the first home of man,a colony of the Red Planet. Do you know what Earth is to the greatMartian land-owners?      Do you?      He paused out of breath; then finishedvenomously, Earth is a great pool of labor ready to be tapped, cheaperthan robots—cheap as      slaves     !     What about it? gulped Ryd, drawing away from the fanatic. What youwant      me     to do about it?     Mury took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. His face wasonce more bleakly impassive; only the mouth was an ugly line. We'regoing to do something about it, you and I. Tonight. Now.     Ryd was nearly sober. And wholly terrified. He got out chokingly,What's that mean?     The power shell—isn't coming in as planned.     You can't do that.           We     can, said Mury with a heavy accent on the first word. And thereare fifty thousand credits in it for you, Ryd. Are you with us?     Suspicion was chill reality now in Ryd's mind. And he knew one thingcertainly—if he refused now to accompany Mury, he would be killed, bythis man or another of his kind. For the secret power known only as      We     never took chances. Whispered-of, terrible, and world-embracing,desperate upshot of the times in its principles of dynamitism, war, andpanclasm—that was      We     .     The question hung in the air for a long moment. Then Ryd, withan effort, said, Sure. A moment later it struck him that themonosyllabic assent was suspicious; he added quickly, I got nothing tolose, see? It was, he realized, the cold truth.     You won't lose, said Mury. He seemed to relax. But the menace withwhich he had clothed himself clung, as he turned back on the way theyhad come.     Ryd followed dog-like, his feet in their worn shoes moving without hisvolition. He was frightened. Out of his very fright came a longing toplacate Mury, assure him that he, Ryd, was on the same side whateverhappened....     After some steps he stole a sidelong glance at his tall companion, andwhined, Where ... where we going now?     Mury paused in his long stride, removed a hand from a pocket of thegray topcoat that wrapped him as in somber thoughts. Wordlessly, hepointed as Ryd had known he would—toward where a pale man-made dawnseemed breaking over Pi Mesa.      II     One blow for freedom! said Mury with caught breath. His voice fellupon air scarcely stilled since the sodden thump of the blow that hadkilled the guard.     The body lay between them, face down on the graveled way in the inkymoon-shadow. On one side Pi Mesa stretched away two hundred yards todrop sharply into the night; on the other was the unlighted mass of thelong, continuous, low buildings that housed now unused fuel pumps andservicing equipment. Looking down at the dead huddle at his feet, alittle stunned by the reality of this, Ryd knew that he was in it now.He was caught in the machinery.     Mury hefted the length of steel in his hand once more, as if testingthe weight that had crushed a man's skull so easily. Then, with a shortwrist-flip, he sent it flying into the dried weeds which had over-grownthe aero field on the mesa's rim during the summer months after Stateorder had grounded all fliers in America.     All right, Ryd, he said coolly. Trade clothes with this fellow. I'vebrought you this far—you're taking me the rest of the way.     The rest of the way.     Ryd was still panting, and his side was paining from the strenuousexertion of the long climb up the side of the mountain, far from theguarded highway. His fingers, numbed by the cold of the high, thin air,shook as he knelt and fumbled with the zippers of the dead guard'suniform. The belted gun, however, was heavy and oddly comforting ashe clumsily buckled it about his hips. He knew enough of weaponsto recognize this as, not the usual paralyzer, but a flame pistol,powerful and deadly. He let his hand linger on its butt; then strongfingers tightened on his bony wrist, and he looked up with a start intothe sardonic black eyes of the Panclast.     No use now for firearms, said Mury. All the guns we could carrywouldn't help us if we were caught out there. That gun is just astage property for the little play we're going to give in about threeminutes—when you'll act a guardsman escorting me, a Poligerent ofDynamopolis, aboard the towship      Shahrazad     .     For a moment Ryd felt relief—he had hazily imagined that Mury's hatredof Mars and all things Martian might have led him to try to sabotagethe Martian warship which lay somewhere on the runways beyond the long,low buildings, and which would be closely guarded. But the towshipwould also be guarded ... he shivered in the cold, dry night air.     Mury had melted into the shadow a few yards away. There was a lightscraping, then a green flame sputtered, briefly lighting up his handsand face, and narrowing at once to a thin, singing needle of light.He had turned a pocket electron torch against the lock-mechanism of asmall, disused metal door.       Ryd watched in painful suspense. There was no sound in his ears savefor the hard, dry shrilling of the ray as it bit into the steel. Itseemed to be crying:      run, run     —but he remembered the power that knewhow to punish better than the law, and stood still, shivering.     The lock gave way and the door slipped aside. A light went on inside,and Ryd's heart stopped, backfired, and started again, raggedly. Thesame automatic mechanism that had turned the lights on had started theair-fresher, which picked up speed with a soft whine, sweeping out thelong-stale atmosphere. Mury motioned to Ryd to follow him in.  <doc-sep>The official-looking individual in the expensive topcoat and sport hathad reached the starboard airlock of the towship before anyone thoughtto question his authorization, escorted as he was by a blue-uniformedguardsman. When another sentry, pacing between runways a hundred yardsfrom the squat space vessel, paused to wonder, it was—as it cameabout—just a little too late.     The guard turned and swung briskly off to intercept the oddly-behavingpair, hand crowding the butt of his pistol, for he was growinguneasy. His alarm mounted rapidly, till he nearly sprained an anklein sprinting across the last of the two intervening runways, betweenthe solenoid wickets. Those metal arches, crowding one on the otherin perspective, formed a tunnel that effectively shielded the      Shahrazad's     airlocks from more distant view; the gang of notablesattracted by the occasion was already being shepherded back to safetyby the Communications guards, whose attention was thus well taken up.     The slight man in guardsman's blue glanced over his shoulder andvanished abruptly into the circular lock. His companion wheeled on thetopmost step, looking down with some irritation on his unhandsome face,but with no apparent doubt of his command of the situation.     Yes? he inquired frostily.     What goes on here? snapped the guard, frowning at the tall figuresilhouetted against the glow in the airlock. The crew's signaled allaboard and the ship lifts in two minutes. You ought to be—     I am Semul Mury, Poligerent for the City of Dynamopolis, interruptedthe tall man with asperity. The City is naturally interested in thedelivery of the power which will revivify our industries. He paused,sighed, shifting his weight to the next lower step of the gangway. Isuppose you'll want to re-check my credentials?     The guard was somewhat confused; a Poligerent, in ninth-centurybureaucracy, was a force to be reckoned with. But he contrived to nodwith an appearance of brusqueness.     Fully expecting official papers, signed and garnished with all thepompous seals of a chartered metropolis, the guard was dazed to receiveinstead a terrific left-handed foul to the pit of the stomach, and ashe reeled dizzily, retching and clawing for his gun, to find that gunno longer holstered but in the hand of the self-styled Poligerent,pointing at its licensed owner.     I think, Mury said quietly, flexing his left wrist with care thewhile his right held the gun steady, that you'd better come aboardwith us.     The guard was not more cowardly than the run of politically-appointedcivic guardsmen. But a flame gun kills more frightfully than theancient electric chair. He complied, grasping the railing with bothhands as he stumbled before Mury up the gangway—for he was still verysick indeed, wholly apart from his bewilderment, which was enormous.     Above, Ryd Randl waited in the lock, flattened against the curvedwall, white and jittering. The inner door was shut, an impenetrablecountersunk mirror of metal.     Cover him, Ryd, ordered Mury flatly. In obedience Ryd lugged outthe heavy flame pistol and pointed it; his finger was dangerouslytremulous on the firing lever. He moistened his lips to voice hisfears; but Mury, pocketing the other gun, threw the three-way switch onthe side panel, the switch that should have controlled the inner lock.     Nothing happened.     Oh, God. We're caught. We're trapped! The outer gangway had slid up,the lock wheezed shut, forming an impenetrable crypt of niosteel.  <doc-sep>On that day, I walked farther than I had intended and, by the time Igot back home, I found the rest of my family had returned before me.They seemed to be excited about something and were surprised to see meso calm.     Aren't you even interested in anything outside your own immediateconcerns, Kev? Sylvia demanded, despite Father's efforts to shush her.     Can't you remember that Kev isn't able to receive the tellies? Timshot back at her. He probably doesn't even know what's happened.     Well, what did happen? I asked, trying not to snap.     One starship got back from Alpha Centauri, Danny said excitedly.There are two inhabited Earth-type planets there!     This was for me; this was it at last! I tried not to show myenthusiasm, though I knew that was futile. My relatives could keeptheir thoughts and emotions from me; I couldn't keep mine from them.What kind of life inhabits them? Humanoid?     Uh-uh. Danny shook his head. And hostile. The crew of the starshipsays they were attacked immediately on landing. When they turned andleft, they were followed here by one of the alien ships. Must be apretty advanced race to have spaceships. Anyhow, the extraterrestrialship headed back as soon as it got a fix on where ours was going.     But if they're hostile, I said thoughtfully, it might mean war.     Of course. That's why everybody's so wrought up. We hope it's peace,but we'll have to prepare for war just in case.     There hadn't been a war on Earth for well over a hundred years, butwe hadn't been so foolish as to obliterate all knowledge of militarytechniques and weapons. The alien ship wouldn't be able to come backwith reinforcements—if such were its intention—in less than sixmonths. This meant time to get together a stockpile of weapons, thoughwe had no idea of how effective our defenses would be against thealiens' armament.     They might have strange and terrible weapons against which we wouldbe powerless. On the other hand, our side would have the benefitsof telekinetically guided missiles, teleported saboteurs, telepathsto pick up the alien strategy, and prognosticators to determine theoutcome of each battle and see whether it was worth fighting in thefirst place.     Everybody on Earth hoped for peace. Everybody, that is, except me. Ihad been unable to achieve any sense of identity with the world inwhich I lived, and it was almost worth the loss of personal survivalto know that my own smug species could look silly against a still moretalented race.  <doc-sep>  Jinx Ship To The Rescue     By ALFRED COPPEL, JR.     Stand by for      T.R.S. Aphrodite     , butt of the Space     Navy. She's got something terrific in her guts and only     her ice-cold lady engineer can coax it out of her!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Winter 1948.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Brevet Lieutenant Commander David Farragut Strykalski III of theTellurian Wing, Combined Solarian Navies, stood ankle deep in theviscous mud of Venusport Base and surveyed his new command with ajaundiced eye. The hot, slimy, greenish rain that drenched Venusportfor two-thirds of the 720-hour day had stopped at last, but now amiasmic fog was rising from the surrounding swampland, rolling acrossthe mushy landing ramp toward the grounded spaceship. Visibility wasdropping fast, and soon porto-sonar sets would have to be used to findthe way about the surface Base. It was an ordinary day on Venus.     Strike cursed Space Admiral Gorman and all his ancestors with a wealthof feeling. Then he motioned wearily to his companion, and togetherthey sloshed through the mud toward the ancient monitor.     The scaly bulk of the Tellurian Rocket Ship      Aphrodite     loomedunhappily into the thick air above the two men as they reached theventral valve. Strike raised reluctant eyes to the sloping flank of thefat spaceship.     It looks, he commented bitterly, like a pregnant carp.     Senior Lieutenant Coburn Whitley—Cob to his friends—nodded inagreement. That's our Lover-Girl ... old Aphrodisiac herself. The shipwith the poison personality. Cob was the      Aphrodite's     Executive,and he had been with her a full year ... which was a record for Execson the      Aphrodite     . She generally sent them Earthside with nervousbreakdowns in half that time.     Tell me, Captain, continued Cob curiously, how does it happenthat you of all people happened to draw this tub for a command? Ithought....     You know Gorman? queried Strykalski.     Cob nodded. Oh, yes. Yes, indeed. Old Brass-bottom Gorman?     The same.     Well, Cob ran a hand over his chin speculatively, I know Gorman'sa prize stinker ... but you were in command of the      Ganymede     . And,after all, you come from an old service family and all that. How comethis? He indicated the monitor expressively.     Strike sighed. Well, now, Cob, I'll tell you. You'll be spacing withme and I guess you've a right to know the worst ... not that youwouldn't find it out anyway. I come from a long line of very sharpoperators. Seven generations of officers and gentlemen. Lousy withtradition.     The first David Farragut Strykalski, son of a sea-loving Polishimmigrant, emerged from World War II a four-striper and CongressionalMedal winner. Then came David Farragut Strykalski, Jr., and, in theabortive Atomic War that terrified the world in 1961, he won a UnitedNations Peace Citation. And then came David Farragut Strykalski III ...me.     From such humble beginnings do great traditions grow. But somethinghappened when I came into the picture. I don't fit with the rest ofthem. Call it luck or temperament or what have you.     In the first place I seem to have an uncanny talent for saying thewrong thing to the wrong person. Gorman for example. And I take toomuch on my own initiative. Gorman doesn't like that. I lost the      Ganymede     because I left my station where I was supposed to be runningsection-lines to take on a bunch of colonists I thought were indanger....     The Procyon A people? asked Cob.     So you've heard about it. Strike shook his head sadly. My tacticalastrophysicist warned me that Procyon A might go nova. I left myroutine post and loaded up on colonists. He shrugged. Wrong guess. Nonova. I made an ass of myself and lost the      Ganymede     . Gorman gave itto his former aide. I got this.     Cob coughed slightly. I heard something about Ley City, too.     Me again. The      Ganymede's     whole crew ended up in the Luna Base brig.We celebrated a bit too freely.     Cob Whitley looked admiringly at his new Commander. That was the nightafter the      Ganymede     broke the record for the Centaurus B-Earth run,wasn't it? And then wasn't there something about....     Canalopolis?     Whitley nodded.     That time I called the Martian Ambassador a spy. It was at a TellurianEmbassy Ball.     I begin to see what you mean, Captain.     Strike's the name, Cob.     Whitley's smile was expansive. Strike, I think you're going to likeour old tin pot here. He patted the      Aphrodite's     nether bellyaffectionately. She's old ... but she's loose. And we're not likely tomeet any Ambassadors or Admirals with her, either.     Strykalski sighed, still thinking of his sleek      Ganymede     . She'llcarry the mail, I suppose. And that's about all that's expected of her.     Cob shrugged philosophically. Better than tanking that stinking rocketfuel, anyway. Deep space?     Strike shook his head. Venus-Mars.     Cob scratched his chin speculatively. Perihelion run. Hot work.     Strike was again looking at the spaceship's unprepossessing exterior.A surge-circuit monitor, so help me.     Cob nodded agreement. The last of her class.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What can you tell me about the personality of Ryd in Saboteur of Space?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in THE SERPENT RIVER? [SEP] <s>class=chap/>    THE SERPENT RIVER     By Don Wilcox     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Other Worlds May 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]  <doc-sep>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>They were there for three days. They were delighted with the place.It was a world with everything, and it seemed to have only twoinhabitants. They went everywhere except into the big cave.     What is there, Adam? asked Captain Stark.     The great serpent lives there. I would not disturb him. He has longbeen cranky because plans he had for us did not materialize. But weare taught that should ever evil come to us, which it cannot if wepersevere, it will come by him.     They learned no more of the real nature of the sphere in their timethere. Yet all but one of them were convinced of the reality when theyleft. And they talked of it as they took off.     A crowd would laugh if told of it, said Stark, but not many wouldlaugh if they had actually seen the place, or them. I am not a gullibleman, but I am convinced of this: that this is a pristine and pure worldand that ours and all the others we have visited are fallen worlds.Here are the prototypes of our first parents before their fall. Theyare garbed in light and innocence, and they have the happiness thatwe have been seeking for centuries. It would be a crime if anyonedisturbed that happiness.     I too am convinced, said Steiner. It is Paradise itself, where thelion lies down with the lamb, and where the serpent has not prevailed.It would be the darkest of crimes if we or others should play the partof the serpent, and intrude and spoil.     I am probably the most skeptical man in the world, said Casper Craigthe tycoon, but I do believe my eyes. I have been there and seen it.It is indeed an unspoiled Paradise; and it would be a crime calling tothe wide heavens for vengeance for anyone to smirch in any way thatperfection.     So much for that. Now to business. Gilbert, take a gram: NinetyMillion Square Miles of Pristine Paradise for Sale or Lease. Farming,Ranching, exceptional opportunities for Horticulture. Gold, Silver,Iron, Earth-Type Fauna. Terms. Special Rates for Large SettlementParties. Write, Gram, or call in person at any of our planetary officesas listed below. Ask for Brochure—Eden Acres Unlimited.  <doc-sep>class=chap/>    Split Campbell and I brought our ship down to a quiet landing on thesummit of a mile-wide naked rock, and I turned to the telescope for acloser view of the strange thing we had come to see.     It shone, eighteen or twenty miles away, in the light of the lateafternoon sun. It was a long silvery serpent-like      something     thatcrawled slowly over the planet's surface.     There was no way of guessing how large it was, at this distance. Itmight have been a rope rolled into shape out of a mountain—or a chainof mountains. It might have been a river of bluish-gray dough that hadshaped itself into a great cable. Its diameter? If it had been a hollowtube, cities could have flowed through it upright without bending theirskyscrapers. It was, to the eye, an endless rope of cloud oozing alongthe surface of the land. No, not cloud, for it had the compactness ofsolid substance.     We could see it at several points among the low foothills. Even fromthis distance we could guess that it had been moving along its coursefor centuries. Moving like a sluggish snake. It followed a deep-wornpath between the nearer hills and the high jagged mountains on thehorizon.       What was it?       Split Campbell and I had been sent here to learn the answers.Our sponsor was the well known EGGWE (the Earth-Galaxy GoodWill Expeditions.) We were under the EGGWE Code. We were the firstexpedition to this planet, but we had come equipped with two importantpieces of advance information. The Keynes-Roy roving cameras (unmanned)had brought back to the Earth choice items of fact about various partsof the universe. From these photos we knew (1) that man lived on thisplanet, a humanoid closely resembling the humans of the Earth; and(2) that a vast cylindrical rope crawled the surface of this land,continuously, endlessly.     We had intentionally landed at what we guessed would be a safe distancefrom the rope. If it were a living thing, like a serpent, we preferrednot to disturb it. If it gave off heat or poisonous gases or deadlyvibrations, we meant to keep our distance. If, on the other hand, itproved to be some sort of vegetable—a vine of glacier proportions—ora river of some silvery, creamy substance—we would move in upon itgradually, gathering facts as we progressed. I could depend uponSplit to record all observable phenomena with the accuracy ofsplit-hairs.     Split was working at the reports like a drudge at this very moment.     I looked up from the telescope, expecting him to be waiting his turneagerly. I misguessed. He didn't even glance up from his books. Rareyoung Campbell! Always a man of duty, never a man of impulse!     Here Campbell, take a look at the 'rope'.     Before I finish the reports, sir? If I recall our Code, Section Two,Order of Duties upon Landing: A—     Forget the Code. Take a look at the rope while the sun's on it.... Seeit?     Yes sir.     Can you see it's moving? See the little clouds of dust coming up fromunder its belly?     Yes sir. An excellent view, Captain Linden.     What do you think of it, Split? Ever see a sight like that before?     No sir.     Well, what about it? Any comments?     Split answered me with an enthusiastic, By gollies, sir! Then, withrestraint, It's precisely what I expected from the photographs, sir.Any orders, sir?     Relax, Split! That's the order. Relax!     Thanks—thanks, Cap! That was his effort to sound informal, thoughcoming from him it was strained. His training had given him anexaggerated notion of the importance of dignity and discipline.     He was naturally so conscientious it was painful. And to top it all,his scientific habit of thought made him want to stop and weigh hiswords even when speaking of casual things such as how much sugar herequired in his coffee.     Needless to say, I had kidded him unmercifully over these traits.Across the millions of miles of space that we had recently traveled(our first voyage together) I had amused myself at his expense. Ihad sworn that he would find, in time, that he couldn't even trimhis fingernails without calipers, or comb his hair without actuallyphysically splitting the hairs that cropped up in the middle of thepart. That was when I had nicknamed him Split—and the wide ears thatstuck out from his stubble-cut blond hair had glowed with the pink ofselfconsciousness. Plainly, he liked the kidding. But if I thought Icould rescue him from the weight of dignity and duty, I was mistaken.     Now he had turned the telescope for a view far to the right. He paused.     What do you see? I asked.     I cannot say definitely. The exact scientific classification of theobject I am observing would call for more detailed scrutiny—     You're seeing some sort of object?     Yes sir.     What sort of object?     A living creature, sir—upright, wearing clothes—     A      man     ?     To all appearances, sir—     You bounder, give me that telescope!  <doc-sep>  She sipped  her champagneslowly and provocatively acrossthe table from him. Her eyes sparkledbehind the almond slits of hermask, caught the color changes andcast them back. She was wearingcontact lenses of a garish green.     He wished she would hurry withher drink. He had horrible visionsof his wife at home taking off hertelovis and coming to his chair. Hewould then have to press theswitch that would jerk his shadowyself back along its invisible connectingcord, jerk him back andleave but a small mound of clothesupon the chair at the table.     Deep depression laid hold ofhim. He would not be able to seeher after tonight until he receivedhis monthly dole two weeks hence.She wouldn't wait that long. Someoneelse would have her.     Unless ...     Yes, he knew now that he wasgoing to kill his wife as soon as theopportunity presented itself. Itwould be a simple matter. With theaid of the telporter suit, he couldestablish an iron-clad alibi.     He took a long drink of whiskeyand looked at the dancers abouthim. Sight of their gay costumesheightened his depression. He waswearing a cheap suit of satin, all hecould afford. But some day soon hewould show them! Some time soonhe would be dressed as gaily....     Something troubling you,honey?     His gaze shot back to her andshe blurred slightly before his eyes.No. Nothing at all! He summoneda sickly smile and clutchedher hand in his. Come on. Let'sdance.     He drew her from the chair andinto his arms. She melted towardhim as if desiring to become a partof him. A tremor of excitementsurged through him and threatenedto turn his knees into quiveringjelly. He could not make hisfeet conform to the floodingrhythm of the music. He half stumbled,half pushed her along past thebooths.     In the shelter of the palms hedrew her savagely to him. Let's—let'sgo outside. His voice was littlemore than a croak.     But, honey! She pushed herselfaway, her low voice maddeninghim. Don't you have a privateroom? A girl doesn't like to betaken outside....     Her words bit into his brain likethe blade of a hot knife.     No, he didn't have a privateroom at the club like the others. Aprivate room for his telporter receiver,a private room where hecould take a willing guest. No! Hecouldn't afford it! No!      No!     NO!His lot was a cheap suit of satin!Cheap whiskey! Cheap champagne!A cheap shack by theriver....     An inarticulate cry escaped histwisted lips. He clutched her roughlyto him and dragged her throughthe door and into the moonlight,whiskey and anger lending himbrutal strength.     He pulled her through the desertedgarden.      All the others hadprivate rooms!     He pulled her tothe far end, behind a clump ofsquatty firs. His hands clawed ather. He tried to smother her mouthwith kisses.     She eluded him deftly. But,      honey     ! Her voice had gone deeperinto her throat. I just want to besure about things. If you can't affordone of the private rooms—ifyou can't afford to show me a goodtime—if you can't come here realoften ...     The whiskey pounded andthrobbed at his brain like blowsfrom an unseen club. His egocurled and twisted within him likea headless serpent.     I'll have money! he shouted,struggling to hold her. I'll haveplenty of money! After tonight!     Then we'll wait, she said.We'll wait until tomorrow night.     No! he screamed. You don'tbelieve me! You're like the others!You think I'm no good! But I'llshow you! I'll show all of you!   <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>Untrimmed sumacs threw late-afternoon shadows on the discolored stuccofacade of the Elsby Public Library. Inside, Tremaine followed apaper-dry woman of indeterminate age to a rack of yellowed newsprint.     You'll find back to nineteen-forty here, the librarian said. Theolder are there in the shelves.     I want nineteen-oh-one, if they go back that far.     The woman darted a suspicious look at Tremaine. You have to handlethese old papers carefully.     I'll be extremely careful. The woman sniffed, opened a drawer, leafedthrough it, muttering.     What date was it you wanted?     Nineteen-oh-one; the week of May nineteenth.     The librarian pulled out a folded paper, placed it on the table,adjusted her glasses, squinted at the front page. That's it, shesaid. These papers keep pretty well, provided they're stored in thedark. But they're still flimsy, mind you.     I'll remember. The woman stood by as Tremaine looked over the frontpage. The lead article concerned the opening of the Pan-AmericanExposition at Buffalo. Vice-President Roosevelt had made a speech.Tremaine leafed over, reading slowly.     On page four, under a column headed      County Notes     he saw the name Bram:     Mr. Bram has purchased a quarter section of fine grazing land,north of town, together with a sturdy house, from J. P. Spivey ofElsby. Mr. Bram will occupy the home and will continue to graze afew head of stock. Mr. Bram, who is a newcomer to the county, hasbeen a resident of Mrs. Stoate's Guest Home in Elsby for the pastmonths.     May I see some earlier issues; from about the first of the year?     The librarian produced the papers. Tremaine turned the pages, read theheads, skimmed an article here and there. The librarian went back toher desk. An hour later, in the issue for July 7, 1900, an item caughthis eye:     A Severe Thunderstorm. Citizens of Elsby and the country were muchalarmed by a violent cloudburst, accompanied by lightning andthunder, during the night of the fifth. A fire set in the pinewoods north of Spivey's farm destroyed a considerable amount oftimber and threatened the house before burning itself out alongthe river.     The librarian was at Tremaine's side. I have to close the library now.You'll have to come back tomorrow.     Outside, the sky was sallow in the west: lights were coming on inwindows along the side streets. Tremaine turned up his collar against acold wind that had risen, started along the street toward the hotel.     A block away a black late-model sedan rounded a corner with a faintsqueal of tires and gunned past him, a heavy antenna mounted forwardof the left rear tail fin whipping in the slipstream. Tremaine stoppedshort, stared after the car.     Damn! he said aloud. An elderly man veered, eyeing him sharply.Tremaine set off at a run, covered the two blocks to the hotel, yankedopen the door to his car, slid into the seat, made a U-turn, and headednorth after the police car.  <doc-sep>During the next twenty-four hours, Kaiser and the mother ship exchangedmessages at regular six-hour intervals. In between, he worked atrepairing the damaged scout. He had no more success than before.     He tired easily and lay on the cot often to rest. Each time he seemedto drop off to sleep immediately—and awake at the exact times hehad decided on beforehand. At first, despite the lack of success instraightening the bent metal of the scout bottom, there had been asubdued exhilaration in reporting each new discovery concerning thesymbiote, but as time passed, his enthusiasm ebbed. His one reallyimportant problem was how to repair the scout and he was fast becomingdiscouraged.     At last Kaiser could bear the futility of his efforts no longer. Hesent out a terse message to the      Soscites II     :     TAKING SHORT TRIP TO ANOTHER LOCATION ON RIVER. HOPE TO FIND MOREINTELLIGENT NATIVES. COULD BE THAT THE SETTLEMENT I FOUND HERE ISANALOGOUS TO TRIBE OF MONKEYS ON EARTH. I KNOW THE CHANCE IS SMALL,BUT WHAT HAVE I TO LOSE? I CAN'T FIX SCOUT WITHOUT BETTER TOOLS, ANDIF MY GUESS IS RIGHT, I MAY BE ABLE TO GET EQUIPMENT. EXPECT TO RETURNIN TEN OR TWELVE HOURS. PLEASE KEEP CONTACT WITH SCOUT.     SMOKY     Kaiser packed a mudsled with tent, portable generator and guard wires,a spare sidearm and ammunition, and food for two days. He had noticedthat a range of high hills, which caused the bend in the river atthe native settlement, seemed to continue its long curve, and hewondered if the hills might not turn the river in the shape of a gianthorseshoe. He intended to find out.     Wrapping his equipment in a plastic tarp, Kaiser eased it out thedoorway and tied it on the sled. He hooked a towline to a harness onhis shoulders and began his journey—in the opposite direction from thefirst native settlement.     He walked for more than seven hours before he found that his surmisehad been correct. And a second cluster of huts, and seal-people in theriver, greeted his sight. He received a further pleasant surprise. Thisgroup was decidedly more advanced than the first!     They were little different in actual physical appearance; the changewas mainly noticeable in their actions and demeanor. And their odor wasmore subdued, less repugnant.     By signs, Kaiser indicated that he came in peace, and they seemed tounderstand. A thick-bodied male went solemnly to the river bank andcalled to a second, who dived and brought up a mouthful of weed. Thefirst male took the weed and brought it to Kaiser. This was obviously agesture of friendship.     The weed had a white starchy core and looked edible. Kaiser cleanedpart of it with his handkerchief, bit and chewed it.     The weed had a slight iron taste, but was not unpalatable. He swallowedthe mouthful and tried another. He ate most of what had been given himand waited with some trepidation for a reaction.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in THE SERPENT RIVER?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What role does Gravgak play in THE SERPENT RIVER? [SEP] <s>class=chap/>    4.     Vauna, the beautiful daughter of Tomboldo, came into my life during theweeks that I lay unconscious.     I must have talked aloud much during those feverish hours of darkness.     Campbell! I would call out of a nightmare. Campbell, we're about toland. Is everything set? Check the instruments again, Campbell.     S-s-sh! The low hush of Split Campbell's voice would somehowpenetrate my dream.     The voices about me were soft. My dreams echoed the soft female voicesof this new, strange language.     Campbell, are you there?... Have you forgotten the Code, Campbell?     Quiet, Captain.     Who is it that's swabbing my face? I can't see.     It's Vauna. She's smiling at you, Captain. Can't you see her?     Is this the pretty one we saw through the telescope?     One of them.     And what of the other? There were two together. I remember—     Omosla is here too. She's Vauna's attendant. We're all looking afteryou, Captain Linden. Did you know I performed an operation to relievethe pressure on your brain? You must get well, Captain. The words ofCampbell came through insistently.     After a silence that may have lasted for hours or days, I said,Campbell, you haven't forgot the EGGWE Code?     Of course not, Captain.     Section Four?     Section Four, he repeated in a low voice, as if to pacify me and putme to sleep. Conduct of EGGWE agents toward native inhabitants: A, Noagent shall enter into any diplomatic agreement that shall be construedas binding—     I interrupted. Clause D?     He picked it up. D, no agent shall enter into a marriage contract withany native.... H-m-m. You're not trying to warn me, are you, CaptainLinden? Or are you warning      yourself     ?     At that moment my eyes opened a little. Swimming before my blurredvision was the face of Vauna. I did remember her—yes, she must havehaunted my dreams, for now my eyes burned in an effort to define herfeatures more clearly. This was indeed Vauna, who had been one of theparty of twelve, and had walked beside her father in the face of theattack. Deep within my subconscious the image of her beautiful face andfigure had lingered. I murmured a single word of answer to Campbell'squestion. Myself.     In the hours that followed, I came to know the soft footsteps of Vauna.The caverns in which she and her father and all these Benzendellapeople lived were pleasantly warm and fragrant. My misty impressions oftheir life about me were like the first impressions of a child learningabout the world into which he has been born.     Sometimes I would hear Vauna and her attendant Omosla talking together.Often when Campbell would stop in this part of the cavern to inquireabout me, Omosla would drop in also. She and Campbell were learning toconverse in simple words. And Vauna and I—yes. If I could only avoidblacking out.     I wanted to see her.     So often my eyes would refuse to open. A thousand nightmares. Spaceships shooting through meteor swarms. Stars like eyes. Eyes like stars.The eyes of Vauna, the daughter of Tomboldo. The sensitive stroke ofVauna's fingers, brushing my forehead, pressing my hand.     I regained my health gradually.     Are you quite awake? Vauna would ask me in her musical Benzendellawords. You speak better today. Your friend Campbell has brought youmore recordings of our language, so you can learn to speak more. Myfather is eager to talk with you. But you must sleep more. You arestill weak.     It gave me a weird sensation to awaken in the night, trying to adjustmyself to my surroundings. The Benzendellas were sleep-singers. Bynight they murmured mysterious little songs through their sleep.Strange harmonies whispered through the caves.     And if I stirred restlessly, the footsteps of Vauna might come to methrough the darkness. In her sleeping garments she would come to me,faintly visible in the pink light that filtered through from somecorridor. She would whisper melodious Benzendella words and tell me togo back to sleep, and I would drift into the darkness of my endlessdreams.     The day came when I awakened to see both Vauna and her father standingbefore me. Stern old Tomboldo, with his chalk-smooth face and not ahint of an eyebrow or eyelash, rapped his hand against my ribs, shookthe fiber bed lightly, and smiled. From a pocket concealed in hisflowing cape, he drew forth the musical watch, touched the button, andplayed, Trail of Stars.     I have learned to talk, I said.     You have had a long sleep.     I am well again. See, I can almost walk. But as I started to rise,the wave of blackness warned me, and I restrained my ambition. I willwalk soon.     We will have much to talk about. Your friend has pointed to the starsand told me a strange story of your coming. We have walked around theship. He has told me how it rides through the sky. I can hardly makemyself believe. Tomboldo's eyes cast upward under the strong ridge offorehead where the eyebrows should have been. He was evidently tryingto visualize the flight of a space ship. We will have much to telleach other.     I hope so, I said. Campbell and I came to learn about the      serpentriver     . I resorted to my own language for the last two words, notknowing the Benzendella equivalent.      I     made an eel-like motionwith my arm. But they didn't understand. And before I could explain,the footsteps of other Benzendellas approached, and presently I lookedaround to see that quite an audience had gathered. The most prominentfigure of the new group was the big muscular guard of the black andgreen diamond markings—Gravgak.     You get well? Gravgak said to me. His eyes drilled me closely.     I get well, I said.     The blow on the head, he said, was not meant.     I looked at him. Everyone was looking at him, and I knew this was meantto be an occasion of apology. But the light of fire in Vauna's eyestold me that she did not believe. He saw her look, and his own eyesflashed darts of defiance. With an abrupt word to me, he wheeled andstarted off. Get well!     The crowd of men and women made way for him. But in the arched doorwayhe turned. Vauna. I am ready to speak to you alone.     She started. I reached and barely touched her hand. She stopped. Iwill talk with you later, Gravgak.     Now! he shouted. Alone.     He stalked off. A moment later Vauna, after exchanging a word with herfather, excused herself from the crowd and followed Gravgak.     From the way those in the room looked, I knew this must be a dramaticmoment. It was as if she had acknowledged Gravgak as her master—or herlover. He had called for her. She had followed.     But her old father was still the master. He stepped toward the door.Vauna!... Gravgak!... Come back.     (I will always wonder what might have happened if he hadn't calledthem! Was my distrust of Gravgak justified? Had I become merely ajealous lover—or was I right in my hunch that the tall muscular guardwas a potential traitor?)     Vauna reappeared at once. I believe she was glad that she had beencalled back.     Gravgak came sullenly. At the edge of the crowd in the arched doorwayhe stood scowling.     While we are together, old Tomboldo said quietly, looking around atthe assemblage, I must tell you the decision of the council. Soon wewill move back to the other part of the world.     There were low murmurs of approval through the chamber.     We will wait a few days, Tomboldo went on, until our new friend—he pointed to me—is well enough to travel. We would never leave himhere to the mercy of the savage ones. He and his helper came throughthe sky in time to save us from being destroyed. We must never forgetthis kindness. When we ascend the      Kao-Wagwattl     , the ever moving      rope of life     , these friends shall come with us. On the back ofthe Kao-Wagwattl      they shall ride with us across the land     .  <doc-sep>class=chap/>    3.     They were waving short clubs or whips with stones tied to the ends.They charged up the slope, about sixty yards, swinging their weirdclubs with a threat of death.     Wild disorder suddenly struck the audience. Campbell and I believed wewere about to witness a massacre.     Captain—      Jim     ! You're not going to let this happen!     Our sympathies had gone to the first groups, the peaceable ones. I hadthe same impulse as Campbell—to do something—anything! Yet here wesat in our ship, more than half a mile from our thirty-five or fortyfriends in danger.     Our friends were panicked. But they didn't take flight. They didn'tduck for the holes in the rocky hilltop. Instead, they rallied andpacked themselves around their tall leader. They stood, a defiant wall.     Can we shoot a ray, Jim?     I didn't answer. Later I would recall that Split      could     drop hisdignity under excitement—his Captain Linden and sir. Just now hewanted any sort of split-second order.     We saw the naked warriors run out in a wide circle. They spun andweaved, they twirled their deadly clubs, they danced grotesquely. Theywere closing in. Closer and closer. It was all their party.     Jim, can we shoot?     Hit number sixteen, Campbell.     Split touched the number sixteen signal.     The ship's siren wailed out over the land.     You could tell when the sound struck them. The circle of savage onessuddenly fell apart. The dancing broke into the wildest contortions youever saw. As if they'd been spanked by a wave of electricity. The sirenscream must have sounded like an animal cry from an unknown world. Theattackers ran for the sponge-trees. The rootless jungle came to life.It jerked and jumped spasmodically down the slope. And our siren keptright on singing.     Ready for that hike, Campbell? Give me my equipment coat. I gotinto it. I looked back to the telescope. The tall man of the partyhad behaved with exceptional calmness. He had turned to stare in ourdirection from the instant the siren sounded. He could no doubt makeout the lines of our silvery ship in the shadows. Slowly, deliberately,he marched over the hilltop toward us.     Most of his party now scampered back to the safety of their hidingplaces in the ground. But a few—the brave ones, perhaps, or theofficials of his group—came with him.     He needs a stronger guard than that, Campbell grumbled.     Sixteen was still wailing. Set it for ten minutes and come on, Isaid. Together we descended from the ship.     We took into our nostrils the tangy air, breathing fiercely, at first.We slogged along over the rock surface feeling our weight to beone-and-a-third times normal. We glanced down the slope apprehensively.We didn't want any footraces. The trees, however, were stillretreating. Our siren would sing on for another eight minutes. Andin case of further danger, we were equipped with the standard pocketarsenal of special purpose capsule bombs.     Soon we came face to face with the tall, stately old leader in thecream-and-red cloak.     Split and I stood together, close enough to exchange comments againstthe siren's wail. Fine looking people, we observed. Smooth faces.Like the features of Earth men. These creatures could walk downany main street back home. With a bit of makeup they would pass.Notice, Captain, they have strange looking eyes. Very smooth.It's because they have no eyebrows ... no eye lashes. Verysmooth—handsome—attractive.     Then the siren went off.     The leader stood before me, apparently unafraid. He seemed to bewaiting for me to explain my presence. His group of twelve gathered inclose.     I had met such situations with ease before. EGGWE explorers comeequipped. I held out a gift toward the leader. It was a singingmedallion attached to a chain. It was disc-shaped, patterned after alarge silver coin. It made music at the touch of a button. In clear,dainty bell tones it rang out its one tune, Trail of Stars.     As it played I held it up for inspection. I placed it around my ownneck, then offered it to the leader. I thought he was smiling. He wasnot overwhelmed by the magic of this gadget. He saw it for what itwas, a token of friendship. There was a keenness about him that Iliked. Yes, he was smiling. He bent his head forward and allowed me toplace the gift around his neck.     Tomboldo, he said, pointing to himself.     Split and I tried to imitate his breathy accents as we repeated aloud,Tomboldo.     We pointed to ourselves, in turn, and spoke our own names. And then,as the names of the others were pronounced, we tried to memorize eachbreathy sound that was uttered. I was able to remember four or five ofthem. One was Gravgak.     Gravgak's piercing eyes caused me to notice him. Suspicious eyes? I didnot know these people's expressions well enough to be sure.     Gravgak was a guard, tall and muscular, whose arms and legs werepainted with green and black diamond designs.     By motions and words we didn't understand, we inferred that we wereinvited to accompany the party back home, inside the hill, where wewould be safe. I nodded to Campbell. It's our chance to be guests ofTomboldo. Nothing could have pleased us more. For our big purpose—tounderstand the Serpent River—would be forwarded greatly if we couldlearn, through the people, what its meanings were. To analyze theriver's substance, estimate its rate, its weight, its temperature, andto map its course—these facts were only a part of the information wesought. The fuller story would be to learn how the inhabitants of thisplanet regarded it: whether they loved or shunned it, and what legendsthey may have woven around it. All this knowledge would be useful whenfuture expeditions of men from the Earth followed us (through EGGWE)for an extension of peaceful trade relationships.     Tomboldo depended upon the guard Gravgak to make sure that the way wassafe. Gravgak was supposed to keep an eye on the line of floating treesthat had taken flight down the hillside. Danger still lurked there, weknew. And now the siren that had frightened off the attack was silent.Our ship, locked against invaders, could be forgotten. We were guestsof Tomboldo.     Gravgak was our guard, but he didn't work at it. He was too anxious tohear all the talk. In the excitement of our meeting, everyone ignoredthe growing darkness, the lurking dangers. Gravgak confronted us withagitated jabbering:     Wollo—yeeta—vo—vandartch—vandartch! Grr—see—o—see—o—see—o!     See—o—see—o—see—o, one of the others echoed.     It began to make sense. They wanted us to repeat the siren noises. Theenemy had threatened their lives. There could very well have been awholesale slaughter. But as long as we could make the see—o—see—owe were all safe.     Split and I exchanged glances. He touched his hand to the equipmentjacket, to remind me we were armed with something more miraculous thana yowling siren.     See—o—see—o—see—o! Others of Tomboldo's party echoed the demand.They must have seen the sponge-trees again moving toward our path.      See—o—see—o!          Our peaceful march turned into a spasm of terror. The sponge-treescame rushing up the slope, as if borne by a sudden gust of wind. Theybounced over our path, and the war party spilled out of them.     Shouting. A wild swinging of clubs. And no cat-and-mouse tricks. Nodeliberate circling and closing in. An outright attack. Naked bodiesgleaming in the semi-darkness. Arms swinging weapons, choosing thenearest victims. The luminous rocks on the ends of the clubs flashed.Shouting, screeching, hurling their clubs. The whizzing fury filled theair.     I hurled a capsule bomb. It struck at the base of a bouncingsponge-tree, and blew the thing to bits.     The attackers ran back into a huddle, screaming. Then they cameforward, rushing defiantly.     Our muscular guard, Gravgak was too bold. He had picked up one of theirclubs and he ran toward their advance, and to all of Tomboldo's partyit must have appeared that he was bravely rushing to his death. Yetthe gesture of the club he swung so wildly could have been intended asa      warning     ! It could have meant, Run back, you fools, or thesestrange devils will throw fire at you.     I threw fire. And so did my lieutenant. He didn't wait for orders,thank goodness. He knew it was their lives or ours. Zip, zip,zip—BLANG-BLANG-BLANG! The bursts of fire at their feet ripped therocks. The spray caught them and knocked them back. Three or fourwarriors in the fore ranks were torn up in the blasts. Others wereflattened—and those who were able, ran.     They ran, not waiting for the cover of sponge-trees. Not bothering topick up their clubs.     But the operation was not a complete success. We had suffered a seriouscasualty. The guard Gravgak. He had rushed out too far, and the firstblast of fire and rock had knocked him down. Now Tomboldo and others ofthe party hovered over him.     His eyes opened a little. I thought he was staring at me, drilling mewith suspicion. I worked over him with medicines. The crowd around usstood back in an attitude of awe as Split and I applied ready bandages,and held a stimulant to his nostrils that made him breath back toconsciousness.     Suddenly he came to life. Lying there on his back, with the club stillat his fingertips, he swung up on one elbow. The swift motion causeda cry of joy from the crowd. I heard a little of it—and then blackedout. For as the muscular Gravgak moved, his fingers closed over thehandle of the club. It whizzed upward with him—apparently all byaccident. The stone that dangled from the end of the club crashed intomy head.     I went into instant darkness. Darkness, and a long, long silence.  <doc-sep>class=chap/>    THE SERPENT RIVER     By Don Wilcox     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Other Worlds May 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]  <doc-sep>They were there for three days. They were delighted with the place.It was a world with everything, and it seemed to have only twoinhabitants. They went everywhere except into the big cave.     What is there, Adam? asked Captain Stark.     The great serpent lives there. I would not disturb him. He has longbeen cranky because plans he had for us did not materialize. But weare taught that should ever evil come to us, which it cannot if wepersevere, it will come by him.     They learned no more of the real nature of the sphere in their timethere. Yet all but one of them were convinced of the reality when theyleft. And they talked of it as they took off.     A crowd would laugh if told of it, said Stark, but not many wouldlaugh if they had actually seen the place, or them. I am not a gullibleman, but I am convinced of this: that this is a pristine and pure worldand that ours and all the others we have visited are fallen worlds.Here are the prototypes of our first parents before their fall. Theyare garbed in light and innocence, and they have the happiness thatwe have been seeking for centuries. It would be a crime if anyonedisturbed that happiness.     I too am convinced, said Steiner. It is Paradise itself, where thelion lies down with the lamb, and where the serpent has not prevailed.It would be the darkest of crimes if we or others should play the partof the serpent, and intrude and spoil.     I am probably the most skeptical man in the world, said Casper Craigthe tycoon, but I do believe my eyes. I have been there and seen it.It is indeed an unspoiled Paradise; and it would be a crime calling tothe wide heavens for vengeance for anyone to smirch in any way thatperfection.     So much for that. Now to business. Gilbert, take a gram: NinetyMillion Square Miles of Pristine Paradise for Sale or Lease. Farming,Ranching, exceptional opportunities for Horticulture. Gold, Silver,Iron, Earth-Type Fauna. Terms. Special Rates for Large SettlementParties. Write, Gram, or call in person at any of our planetary officesas listed below. Ask for Brochure—Eden Acres Unlimited.  <doc-sep>Most of the cousins gasped as the truth began to percolate through.     I knew from the very beginning, Conrad finished, that I didn'thave to do anything at all. I just had to wait and you would destroyyourselves.     I don't understand, Bartholomew protested, searching the faces of thecousins closest to him. What does he mean, we have never existed?We're here, aren't we? What—     Shut up! Raymond snapped. He turned on Martin. You don't seemsurprised.     The old man grinned. I'm not. I figured it all out years ago.     At first, he had wondered what he should do. Would it be better tothrow them into a futile panic by telling them or to do nothing? Hehad decided on the latter; that was the role they had assigned him—towatch and wait and keep out of things—and that was the role he wouldplay.     You knew all the time and you didn't tell us! Raymond spluttered.After we'd been so good to you, making a gentleman out of you insteadof a criminal.... That's right, he snarled, a criminal! An alcoholic,a thief, a derelict! How do you like that?     Sounds like a rich, full life, Martin said wistfully.     What an exciting existence they must have done him out of! But then, hecouldn't help thinking, he—he and Conrad together, of course—had donethem out of      any     kind of existence. It wasn't his responsibility,though; he had done nothing but let matters take whatever course wasdestined for them. If only he could be sure that it was the bettercourse, perhaps he wouldn't feel that nagging sense of guilt insidehim. Strange—where, in his hermetic life, could he possibly havedeveloped such a queer thing as a conscience?     Then we've wasted all this time, Ninian sobbed, all this energy, allthis money, for nothing!     But you were nothing to begin with, Martin told them. And then,after a pause, he added, I only wish I could be sure there had beensome purpose to this.     He didn't know whether it was approaching death that dimmed his sight,or whether the frightened crowd that pressed around him was growingshadowy.     I wish I could feel that some good had been done in letting you bewiped out of existence, he went on voicing his thoughts. But I knowthat the same thing that happened to your worlds and my world willhappen all over again. To other people, in other times, but again. It'sbound to happen. There isn't any hope for humanity.     One man couldn't really change the course of human history, he toldhimself. Two men, that was—one real, one a shadow.     Conrad came close to the old man's bed. He was almost transparent.     No, he said, there is hope. They didn't know the time transmitterworks two ways. I used it for going into the past only once—just thisonce. But I've gone into the future with it many times. And— hepressed Martin's hand—believe me, what I did—what      we     did, you andI—serves a purpose. It will change things for the better. Everythingis going to be all right.  <doc-sep>As dusk fell, Kaiser set up his tent a few hundred yards back from thenative settlement. All apprehension about how his stomach would reactto the river weed had left him. Apparently it could be assimilated byhis digestive system. Lying on his air mattress, he felt thoroughly atpeace with this world.     Once, just before dropping off to sleep, he heard the snuffling noiseof some large animal outside his tent and picked up a pistol, just incase. However, the first jolt of the guard-wire charge discouraged thebeast and Kaiser heard it shuffle away, making puzzled mewing sounds asit went.     The next morning, Kaiser left off all his clothes except a pair ofshorts and went swimming in the river. The seal-people were already inthe water when he arrived and were very friendly.     That friendliness nearly resulted in disaster. The natives crowdedaround as he swam—they maneuvered with an otter-like proficiency—andoften nudged him with their bodies when they came too close. He haddifficulty keeping afloat and soon turned and started back. As heneared the river edge, a playful female grabbed him by the ankle andpulled him under.     Kaiser tried to break her hold, but she evidently thought he wasclowning and wrapped her warm furred arms around him and held himhelpless. They sank deeper.     When his breath threatened to burst from his lungs in a stream ofbubbles, and he still could not free himself, Kaiser brought his kneeup into her stomach and her grip loosened abruptly. He reached thesurface, choking and coughing, and swam blindly toward shore until hisfeet hit the river bottom.     As he stood on the bank, getting his breath, the natives were quiet andseemed to be looking at him reproachfully. He stood for a time, tryingto think of a way to explain the necessity of what he had done, butthere was none. He shrugged helplessly.     There was no longer anything to be gained by staying here—if theyhad the tools he needed, he had no way of finding out or asking forthem—and he packed and started back to the scout.     Kaiser's good spirits returned on his return journey. He had enjoyedthe relief from the tedium of spending day after day in the scout, andnow he enjoyed the exercise of pulling the mudsled. Above the waist,he wore only the harness and the large, soft drops of rain against hisbare skin were pleasant to feel.     When he reached the scout, Kaiser began to unload the sled. Thetarpaulin caught on the edge of a runner and he gave it a tug to freeit. To his amazement, the heavy sled turned completely over, spillingthe equipment to the ground.     Perplexed, Kaiser stooped and began replacing the spilled articles inthe tarp. They felt exceptionally light. He paused again, and suddenlyhis eyes widened.  <doc-sep>They had stopped their play and eating as Kaiser approached and nowmost of them swam in to shore and stood in the water, staring andpiping. They varied in size from small seal-pups to full-grown adults.Some chewed on bunches of water weed, which they manipulated with theirlips and drew into their mouths.     They had mammalian characteristics, Kaiser had noted before, so itwas not difficult to distinguish the females from the males. Theproportion was roughly fifty-fifty.     Several of the bolder males climbed up beside Kaiser and began pawinghis plastic clothing. Kaiser stood still and tried to keep hisbreathing shallow, for their odor was almost more than he could bear.One native smeared Kaiser's face with an exploring paw and Kaisergagged and pushed him roughly away. He was bound by regulations todisplay no hostility to newly discovered natives, but he couldn't takemuch more of this.     A young female splashed water on two young males who stood near andthey turned with shrill pipings and chased her into the water. Theentire group seemed to lose interest in Kaiser and joined in the chase,or went back to other diversions of their own. Kaiser's inspectorsfollowed.     They were a mindless lot, Kaiser observed. The river supplied them withan easy existence, with food and living space, and apparently they hadfew natural enemies.     Kaiser walked away, following the long slow bend of the river, andcame to a collection of perhaps two hundred dwellings built in threehaphazard rows along the river bank. He took time to study theirconstruction more closely this time.     They were all round domes, little more than the height of a man, builtof blocks that appeared to be mud, packed with river weed and sand. Howthey were able to dry these to give them the necessary solidity, Kaiserdid not know. He had found no signs that they knew how to use fire, andall apparent evidence was against their having it. They then had tohave sunlight. Maybe it rained less during certain seasons.     The domes' construction was based on a series of four arches built in acircle. When the base covering the periphery had been laid, four otherswere built on and between them, and continued in successive tiers untilthe top was reached. Each tier thus furnished support for the nextabove. No other framework was needed. The final tier formed the roof.They made sound shelters, but Kaiser had peered into several and foundthem dark and dank—and as smelly as the natives themselves.     The few loungers in the village paid little attention to Kaiser andhe wandered through the irregular streets until he became bored andreturned to the scout.     The      Soscites II     sent little that helped during the next twelve hoursand Kaiser occupied his time trying again to repair the damage to thescout.     The job appeared maddeningly simply. As the scout had glided in fora soft landing, its metal bottom had ridden a concealed rock and bentinward. The bent metal had carried up with it the tube supplying thefuel pump and flattened it against the motor casing.  <doc-sep>class=chap/>    Split Campbell and I brought our ship down to a quiet landing on thesummit of a mile-wide naked rock, and I turned to the telescope for acloser view of the strange thing we had come to see.     It shone, eighteen or twenty miles away, in the light of the lateafternoon sun. It was a long silvery serpent-like      something     thatcrawled slowly over the planet's surface.     There was no way of guessing how large it was, at this distance. Itmight have been a rope rolled into shape out of a mountain—or a chainof mountains. It might have been a river of bluish-gray dough that hadshaped itself into a great cable. Its diameter? If it had been a hollowtube, cities could have flowed through it upright without bending theirskyscrapers. It was, to the eye, an endless rope of cloud oozing alongthe surface of the land. No, not cloud, for it had the compactness ofsolid substance.     We could see it at several points among the low foothills. Even fromthis distance we could guess that it had been moving along its coursefor centuries. Moving like a sluggish snake. It followed a deep-wornpath between the nearer hills and the high jagged mountains on thehorizon.       What was it?       Split Campbell and I had been sent here to learn the answers.Our sponsor was the well known EGGWE (the Earth-Galaxy GoodWill Expeditions.) We were under the EGGWE Code. We were the firstexpedition to this planet, but we had come equipped with two importantpieces of advance information. The Keynes-Roy roving cameras (unmanned)had brought back to the Earth choice items of fact about various partsof the universe. From these photos we knew (1) that man lived on thisplanet, a humanoid closely resembling the humans of the Earth; and(2) that a vast cylindrical rope crawled the surface of this land,continuously, endlessly.     We had intentionally landed at what we guessed would be a safe distancefrom the rope. If it were a living thing, like a serpent, we preferrednot to disturb it. If it gave off heat or poisonous gases or deadlyvibrations, we meant to keep our distance. If, on the other hand, itproved to be some sort of vegetable—a vine of glacier proportions—ora river of some silvery, creamy substance—we would move in upon itgradually, gathering facts as we progressed. I could depend uponSplit to record all observable phenomena with the accuracy ofsplit-hairs.     Split was working at the reports like a drudge at this very moment.     I looked up from the telescope, expecting him to be waiting his turneagerly. I misguessed. He didn't even glance up from his books. Rareyoung Campbell! Always a man of duty, never a man of impulse!     Here Campbell, take a look at the 'rope'.     Before I finish the reports, sir? If I recall our Code, Section Two,Order of Duties upon Landing: A—     Forget the Code. Take a look at the rope while the sun's on it.... Seeit?     Yes sir.     Can you see it's moving? See the little clouds of dust coming up fromunder its belly?     Yes sir. An excellent view, Captain Linden.     What do you think of it, Split? Ever see a sight like that before?     No sir.     Well, what about it? Any comments?     Split answered me with an enthusiastic, By gollies, sir! Then, withrestraint, It's precisely what I expected from the photographs, sir.Any orders, sir?     Relax, Split! That's the order. Relax!     Thanks—thanks, Cap! That was his effort to sound informal, thoughcoming from him it was strained. His training had given him anexaggerated notion of the importance of dignity and discipline.     He was naturally so conscientious it was painful. And to top it all,his scientific habit of thought made him want to stop and weigh hiswords even when speaking of casual things such as how much sugar herequired in his coffee.     Needless to say, I had kidded him unmercifully over these traits.Across the millions of miles of space that we had recently traveled(our first voyage together) I had amused myself at his expense. Ihad sworn that he would find, in time, that he couldn't even trimhis fingernails without calipers, or comb his hair without actuallyphysically splitting the hairs that cropped up in the middle of thepart. That was when I had nicknamed him Split—and the wide ears thatstuck out from his stubble-cut blond hair had glowed with the pink ofselfconsciousness. Plainly, he liked the kidding. But if I thought Icould rescue him from the weight of dignity and duty, I was mistaken.     Now he had turned the telescope for a view far to the right. He paused.     What do you see? I asked.     I cannot say definitely. The exact scientific classification of theobject I am observing would call for more detailed scrutiny—     You're seeing some sort of object?     Yes sir.     What sort of object?     A living creature, sir—upright, wearing clothes—     A      man     ?     To all appearances, sir—     You bounder, give me that telescope!  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What role does Gravgak play in THE SERPENT RIVER?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What does the siren symbolize in THE SERPENT RIVER? [SEP] <s>class=chap/>    THE SERPENT RIVER     By Don Wilcox     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Other Worlds May 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]  <doc-sep>class=chap/>    3.     They were waving short clubs or whips with stones tied to the ends.They charged up the slope, about sixty yards, swinging their weirdclubs with a threat of death.     Wild disorder suddenly struck the audience. Campbell and I believed wewere about to witness a massacre.     Captain—      Jim     ! You're not going to let this happen!     Our sympathies had gone to the first groups, the peaceable ones. I hadthe same impulse as Campbell—to do something—anything! Yet here wesat in our ship, more than half a mile from our thirty-five or fortyfriends in danger.     Our friends were panicked. But they didn't take flight. They didn'tduck for the holes in the rocky hilltop. Instead, they rallied andpacked themselves around their tall leader. They stood, a defiant wall.     Can we shoot a ray, Jim?     I didn't answer. Later I would recall that Split      could     drop hisdignity under excitement—his Captain Linden and sir. Just now hewanted any sort of split-second order.     We saw the naked warriors run out in a wide circle. They spun andweaved, they twirled their deadly clubs, they danced grotesquely. Theywere closing in. Closer and closer. It was all their party.     Jim, can we shoot?     Hit number sixteen, Campbell.     Split touched the number sixteen signal.     The ship's siren wailed out over the land.     You could tell when the sound struck them. The circle of savage onessuddenly fell apart. The dancing broke into the wildest contortions youever saw. As if they'd been spanked by a wave of electricity. The sirenscream must have sounded like an animal cry from an unknown world. Theattackers ran for the sponge-trees. The rootless jungle came to life.It jerked and jumped spasmodically down the slope. And our siren keptright on singing.     Ready for that hike, Campbell? Give me my equipment coat. I gotinto it. I looked back to the telescope. The tall man of the partyhad behaved with exceptional calmness. He had turned to stare in ourdirection from the instant the siren sounded. He could no doubt makeout the lines of our silvery ship in the shadows. Slowly, deliberately,he marched over the hilltop toward us.     Most of his party now scampered back to the safety of their hidingplaces in the ground. But a few—the brave ones, perhaps, or theofficials of his group—came with him.     He needs a stronger guard than that, Campbell grumbled.     Sixteen was still wailing. Set it for ten minutes and come on, Isaid. Together we descended from the ship.     We took into our nostrils the tangy air, breathing fiercely, at first.We slogged along over the rock surface feeling our weight to beone-and-a-third times normal. We glanced down the slope apprehensively.We didn't want any footraces. The trees, however, were stillretreating. Our siren would sing on for another eight minutes. Andin case of further danger, we were equipped with the standard pocketarsenal of special purpose capsule bombs.     Soon we came face to face with the tall, stately old leader in thecream-and-red cloak.     Split and I stood together, close enough to exchange comments againstthe siren's wail. Fine looking people, we observed. Smooth faces.Like the features of Earth men. These creatures could walk downany main street back home. With a bit of makeup they would pass.Notice, Captain, they have strange looking eyes. Very smooth.It's because they have no eyebrows ... no eye lashes. Verysmooth—handsome—attractive.     Then the siren went off.     The leader stood before me, apparently unafraid. He seemed to bewaiting for me to explain my presence. His group of twelve gathered inclose.     I had met such situations with ease before. EGGWE explorers comeequipped. I held out a gift toward the leader. It was a singingmedallion attached to a chain. It was disc-shaped, patterned after alarge silver coin. It made music at the touch of a button. In clear,dainty bell tones it rang out its one tune, Trail of Stars.     As it played I held it up for inspection. I placed it around my ownneck, then offered it to the leader. I thought he was smiling. He wasnot overwhelmed by the magic of this gadget. He saw it for what itwas, a token of friendship. There was a keenness about him that Iliked. Yes, he was smiling. He bent his head forward and allowed me toplace the gift around his neck.     Tomboldo, he said, pointing to himself.     Split and I tried to imitate his breathy accents as we repeated aloud,Tomboldo.     We pointed to ourselves, in turn, and spoke our own names. And then,as the names of the others were pronounced, we tried to memorize eachbreathy sound that was uttered. I was able to remember four or five ofthem. One was Gravgak.     Gravgak's piercing eyes caused me to notice him. Suspicious eyes? I didnot know these people's expressions well enough to be sure.     Gravgak was a guard, tall and muscular, whose arms and legs werepainted with green and black diamond designs.     By motions and words we didn't understand, we inferred that we wereinvited to accompany the party back home, inside the hill, where wewould be safe. I nodded to Campbell. It's our chance to be guests ofTomboldo. Nothing could have pleased us more. For our big purpose—tounderstand the Serpent River—would be forwarded greatly if we couldlearn, through the people, what its meanings were. To analyze theriver's substance, estimate its rate, its weight, its temperature, andto map its course—these facts were only a part of the information wesought. The fuller story would be to learn how the inhabitants of thisplanet regarded it: whether they loved or shunned it, and what legendsthey may have woven around it. All this knowledge would be useful whenfuture expeditions of men from the Earth followed us (through EGGWE)for an extension of peaceful trade relationships.     Tomboldo depended upon the guard Gravgak to make sure that the way wassafe. Gravgak was supposed to keep an eye on the line of floating treesthat had taken flight down the hillside. Danger still lurked there, weknew. And now the siren that had frightened off the attack was silent.Our ship, locked against invaders, could be forgotten. We were guestsof Tomboldo.     Gravgak was our guard, but he didn't work at it. He was too anxious tohear all the talk. In the excitement of our meeting, everyone ignoredthe growing darkness, the lurking dangers. Gravgak confronted us withagitated jabbering:     Wollo—yeeta—vo—vandartch—vandartch! Grr—see—o—see—o—see—o!     See—o—see—o—see—o, one of the others echoed.     It began to make sense. They wanted us to repeat the siren noises. Theenemy had threatened their lives. There could very well have been awholesale slaughter. But as long as we could make the see—o—see—owe were all safe.     Split and I exchanged glances. He touched his hand to the equipmentjacket, to remind me we were armed with something more miraculous thana yowling siren.     See—o—see—o—see—o! Others of Tomboldo's party echoed the demand.They must have seen the sponge-trees again moving toward our path.      See—o—see—o!          Our peaceful march turned into a spasm of terror. The sponge-treescame rushing up the slope, as if borne by a sudden gust of wind. Theybounced over our path, and the war party spilled out of them.     Shouting. A wild swinging of clubs. And no cat-and-mouse tricks. Nodeliberate circling and closing in. An outright attack. Naked bodiesgleaming in the semi-darkness. Arms swinging weapons, choosing thenearest victims. The luminous rocks on the ends of the clubs flashed.Shouting, screeching, hurling their clubs. The whizzing fury filled theair.     I hurled a capsule bomb. It struck at the base of a bouncingsponge-tree, and blew the thing to bits.     The attackers ran back into a huddle, screaming. Then they cameforward, rushing defiantly.     Our muscular guard, Gravgak was too bold. He had picked up one of theirclubs and he ran toward their advance, and to all of Tomboldo's partyit must have appeared that he was bravely rushing to his death. Yetthe gesture of the club he swung so wildly could have been intended asa      warning     ! It could have meant, Run back, you fools, or thesestrange devils will throw fire at you.     I threw fire. And so did my lieutenant. He didn't wait for orders,thank goodness. He knew it was their lives or ours. Zip, zip,zip—BLANG-BLANG-BLANG! The bursts of fire at their feet ripped therocks. The spray caught them and knocked them back. Three or fourwarriors in the fore ranks were torn up in the blasts. Others wereflattened—and those who were able, ran.     They ran, not waiting for the cover of sponge-trees. Not bothering topick up their clubs.     But the operation was not a complete success. We had suffered a seriouscasualty. The guard Gravgak. He had rushed out too far, and the firstblast of fire and rock had knocked him down. Now Tomboldo and others ofthe party hovered over him.     His eyes opened a little. I thought he was staring at me, drilling mewith suspicion. I worked over him with medicines. The crowd around usstood back in an attitude of awe as Split and I applied ready bandages,and held a stimulant to his nostrils that made him breath back toconsciousness.     Suddenly he came to life. Lying there on his back, with the club stillat his fingertips, he swung up on one elbow. The swift motion causeda cry of joy from the crowd. I heard a little of it—and then blackedout. For as the muscular Gravgak moved, his fingers closed over thehandle of the club. It whizzed upward with him—apparently all byaccident. The stone that dangled from the end of the club crashed intomy head.     I went into instant darkness. Darkness, and a long, long silence.  <doc-sep>They were there for three days. They were delighted with the place.It was a world with everything, and it seemed to have only twoinhabitants. They went everywhere except into the big cave.     What is there, Adam? asked Captain Stark.     The great serpent lives there. I would not disturb him. He has longbeen cranky because plans he had for us did not materialize. But weare taught that should ever evil come to us, which it cannot if wepersevere, it will come by him.     They learned no more of the real nature of the sphere in their timethere. Yet all but one of them were convinced of the reality when theyleft. And they talked of it as they took off.     A crowd would laugh if told of it, said Stark, but not many wouldlaugh if they had actually seen the place, or them. I am not a gullibleman, but I am convinced of this: that this is a pristine and pure worldand that ours and all the others we have visited are fallen worlds.Here are the prototypes of our first parents before their fall. Theyare garbed in light and innocence, and they have the happiness thatwe have been seeking for centuries. It would be a crime if anyonedisturbed that happiness.     I too am convinced, said Steiner. It is Paradise itself, where thelion lies down with the lamb, and where the serpent has not prevailed.It would be the darkest of crimes if we or others should play the partof the serpent, and intrude and spoil.     I am probably the most skeptical man in the world, said Casper Craigthe tycoon, but I do believe my eyes. I have been there and seen it.It is indeed an unspoiled Paradise; and it would be a crime calling tothe wide heavens for vengeance for anyone to smirch in any way thatperfection.     So much for that. Now to business. Gilbert, take a gram: NinetyMillion Square Miles of Pristine Paradise for Sale or Lease. Farming,Ranching, exceptional opportunities for Horticulture. Gold, Silver,Iron, Earth-Type Fauna. Terms. Special Rates for Large SettlementParties. Write, Gram, or call in person at any of our planetary officesas listed below. Ask for Brochure—Eden Acres Unlimited.  <doc-sep>  He let the  thought runaround through his head, savoringit with mental taste buds.He would not kill her tonight. No,nor the next night. He would wait,wait until he had sucked the lastmeasure of pleasure from thethought.     It was like having a bottle ofrare old wine on a shelf where itcould be viewed daily. It was likebeing able to pause again andagain before the bottle, hold it upto the light, and say to it, Someday, when my desire for you hasreached the ultimate, I shall unstopperyou quietly and sip youslowly to the last soul-satisfyingdrop. As long as the bottle remainedthere upon the shelf it wassymbolic of that pleasurable moment....     He snapped out of his reverieand realized he had been wastingprecious moments. There would betime enough tomorrow for gloating.Tonight, there were otherthings to do. Pleasurable things.He remembered the girl he hadmet the night before, and smiledsmugly. Perhaps she would beawaiting him even now. If not,there would be another one....     He settled himself deeper intothe chair, glanced once more at hiswife, then let his head lean comfortablyback against the chair'sheadrest. His hand upon his thighfelt the thin mesh that cloaked hisbody beneath his clothing like asheer stocking. His fingers wentagain to the tiny switch. Again hehesitated.     Herbert Hyrel knew no moreabout the telporter suit he worethan he did about the radio in thecorner, the TV set against the wall,or the personalized telovis his wifewas wearing. You pressed one ofthe buttons on the radio; musiccame out. You pressed a buttonand clicked a dial on the TV;music and pictures came out. Youpressed a button and made an adjustmenton the telovis; three-dimensional,emotion-colored picturesleaped into the room. Youpressed a tiny switch on the telportersuit; you were whisked away toa receiving set you had previouslyset up in secret.     He knew that the music and theimages of the performers on theTV and telovis were brought to hisroom by some form of electrical impulseor wave while the actual musiciansand performers remained inthe studio. He knew that when hepressed the switch on his thighsomething within him—his ectoplasm,higher self, the thing spiritsuse for materialization, whateverits real name—streamed out of himalong an invisible channel, leavinghis body behind in the chair in aconscious but dream-like state. Hisother self materialized in a smallcabin in a hidden nook between ahighway and a river where he hadinstalled the receiving set a monthago.     He thought once more of the girlwho might be waiting for him,smiled, and pressed the switch.   <doc-sep>class=chap/>    Split Campbell and I brought our ship down to a quiet landing on thesummit of a mile-wide naked rock, and I turned to the telescope for acloser view of the strange thing we had come to see.     It shone, eighteen or twenty miles away, in the light of the lateafternoon sun. It was a long silvery serpent-like      something     thatcrawled slowly over the planet's surface.     There was no way of guessing how large it was, at this distance. Itmight have been a rope rolled into shape out of a mountain—or a chainof mountains. It might have been a river of bluish-gray dough that hadshaped itself into a great cable. Its diameter? If it had been a hollowtube, cities could have flowed through it upright without bending theirskyscrapers. It was, to the eye, an endless rope of cloud oozing alongthe surface of the land. No, not cloud, for it had the compactness ofsolid substance.     We could see it at several points among the low foothills. Even fromthis distance we could guess that it had been moving along its coursefor centuries. Moving like a sluggish snake. It followed a deep-wornpath between the nearer hills and the high jagged mountains on thehorizon.       What was it?       Split Campbell and I had been sent here to learn the answers.Our sponsor was the well known EGGWE (the Earth-Galaxy GoodWill Expeditions.) We were under the EGGWE Code. We were the firstexpedition to this planet, but we had come equipped with two importantpieces of advance information. The Keynes-Roy roving cameras (unmanned)had brought back to the Earth choice items of fact about various partsof the universe. From these photos we knew (1) that man lived on thisplanet, a humanoid closely resembling the humans of the Earth; and(2) that a vast cylindrical rope crawled the surface of this land,continuously, endlessly.     We had intentionally landed at what we guessed would be a safe distancefrom the rope. If it were a living thing, like a serpent, we preferrednot to disturb it. If it gave off heat or poisonous gases or deadlyvibrations, we meant to keep our distance. If, on the other hand, itproved to be some sort of vegetable—a vine of glacier proportions—ora river of some silvery, creamy substance—we would move in upon itgradually, gathering facts as we progressed. I could depend uponSplit to record all observable phenomena with the accuracy ofsplit-hairs.     Split was working at the reports like a drudge at this very moment.     I looked up from the telescope, expecting him to be waiting his turneagerly. I misguessed. He didn't even glance up from his books. Rareyoung Campbell! Always a man of duty, never a man of impulse!     Here Campbell, take a look at the 'rope'.     Before I finish the reports, sir? If I recall our Code, Section Two,Order of Duties upon Landing: A—     Forget the Code. Take a look at the rope while the sun's on it.... Seeit?     Yes sir.     Can you see it's moving? See the little clouds of dust coming up fromunder its belly?     Yes sir. An excellent view, Captain Linden.     What do you think of it, Split? Ever see a sight like that before?     No sir.     Well, what about it? Any comments?     Split answered me with an enthusiastic, By gollies, sir! Then, withrestraint, It's precisely what I expected from the photographs, sir.Any orders, sir?     Relax, Split! That's the order. Relax!     Thanks—thanks, Cap! That was his effort to sound informal, thoughcoming from him it was strained. His training had given him anexaggerated notion of the importance of dignity and discipline.     He was naturally so conscientious it was painful. And to top it all,his scientific habit of thought made him want to stop and weigh hiswords even when speaking of casual things such as how much sugar herequired in his coffee.     Needless to say, I had kidded him unmercifully over these traits.Across the millions of miles of space that we had recently traveled(our first voyage together) I had amused myself at his expense. Ihad sworn that he would find, in time, that he couldn't even trimhis fingernails without calipers, or comb his hair without actuallyphysically splitting the hairs that cropped up in the middle of thepart. That was when I had nicknamed him Split—and the wide ears thatstuck out from his stubble-cut blond hair had glowed with the pink ofselfconsciousness. Plainly, he liked the kidding. But if I thought Icould rescue him from the weight of dignity and duty, I was mistaken.     Now he had turned the telescope for a view far to the right. He paused.     What do you see? I asked.     I cannot say definitely. The exact scientific classification of theobject I am observing would call for more detailed scrutiny—     You're seeing some sort of object?     Yes sir.     What sort of object?     A living creature, sir—upright, wearing clothes—     A      man     ?     To all appearances, sir—     You bounder, give me that telescope!  <doc-sep>  She sipped  her champagneslowly and provocatively acrossthe table from him. Her eyes sparkledbehind the almond slits of hermask, caught the color changes andcast them back. She was wearingcontact lenses of a garish green.     He wished she would hurry withher drink. He had horrible visionsof his wife at home taking off hertelovis and coming to his chair. Hewould then have to press theswitch that would jerk his shadowyself back along its invisible connectingcord, jerk him back andleave but a small mound of clothesupon the chair at the table.     Deep depression laid hold ofhim. He would not be able to seeher after tonight until he receivedhis monthly dole two weeks hence.She wouldn't wait that long. Someoneelse would have her.     Unless ...     Yes, he knew now that he wasgoing to kill his wife as soon as theopportunity presented itself. Itwould be a simple matter. With theaid of the telporter suit, he couldestablish an iron-clad alibi.     He took a long drink of whiskeyand looked at the dancers abouthim. Sight of their gay costumesheightened his depression. He waswearing a cheap suit of satin, all hecould afford. But some day soon hewould show them! Some time soonhe would be dressed as gaily....     Something troubling you,honey?     His gaze shot back to her andshe blurred slightly before his eyes.No. Nothing at all! He summoneda sickly smile and clutchedher hand in his. Come on. Let'sdance.     He drew her from the chair andinto his arms. She melted towardhim as if desiring to become a partof him. A tremor of excitementsurged through him and threatenedto turn his knees into quiveringjelly. He could not make hisfeet conform to the floodingrhythm of the music. He half stumbled,half pushed her along past thebooths.     In the shelter of the palms hedrew her savagely to him. Let's—let'sgo outside. His voice was littlemore than a croak.     But, honey! She pushed herselfaway, her low voice maddeninghim. Don't you have a privateroom? A girl doesn't like to betaken outside....     Her words bit into his brain likethe blade of a hot knife.     No, he didn't have a privateroom at the club like the others. Aprivate room for his telporter receiver,a private room where hecould take a willing guest. No! Hecouldn't afford it! No!      No!     NO!His lot was a cheap suit of satin!Cheap whiskey! Cheap champagne!A cheap shack by theriver....     An inarticulate cry escaped histwisted lips. He clutched her roughlyto him and dragged her throughthe door and into the moonlight,whiskey and anger lending himbrutal strength.     He pulled her through the desertedgarden.      All the others hadprivate rooms!     He pulled her tothe far end, behind a clump ofsquatty firs. His hands clawed ather. He tried to smother her mouthwith kisses.     She eluded him deftly. But,      honey     ! Her voice had gone deeperinto her throat. I just want to besure about things. If you can't affordone of the private rooms—ifyou can't afford to show me a goodtime—if you can't come here realoften ...     The whiskey pounded andthrobbed at his brain like blowsfrom an unseen club. His egocurled and twisted within him likea headless serpent.     I'll have money! he shouted,struggling to hold her. I'll haveplenty of money! After tonight!     Then we'll wait, she said.We'll wait until tomorrow night.     No! he screamed. You don'tbelieve me! You're like the others!You think I'm no good! But I'llshow you! I'll show all of you!   <doc-sep>Listen, lady, said the kid in the red mask, aggrieved, we got a longway to go to get home.     Yeah, said another kid, in a black mask, and we're late as it is.     I couldn't care less, Judy told them callously. You can't go downthat street.     Why not? demanded yet another kid. This one was in the most completeand elaborate costume of them all, black leotards and a yellow shirtand a flowing: black cape. He wore a black and gold mask and had ablack knit cap jammed down tight onto his head. Why can't we go downthere? this apparition demanded.     Because I said so, Judy told him. Now, you kids get away from here.Take off.     Hey! cried the kid in the black-and-yellow costume. Hey, they'refighting down there!     It's a rumble, said Judy proudly. You twerps don't want to beinvolved.     Hey! cried the kid in the black-and-yellow costume again. And he wentrunning around Judy and dashing off down the street.     Hey, Eddie! shouted one of the other kids. Eddie, come back!     Judy wasn't sure what to do next. If she abandoned her post to chasethe one kid who'd gotten through, then maybe all the rest of them wouldcome running along after her. She didn't know what to do.     A sudden siren and a distant flashing red light solved her problems.Cheez, said one of the kids. The cops!     Fuzz! screamed Judy. She turned and raced down the block toward theschoolyard, shouting, Fuzz! Fuzz! Clear out, it's the fuzz!     But then she stopped, wide-eyed, when she saw what was going on in theschoolyard.     The guys from both gangs were dancing. They were jumping around, wavingtheir arms, throwing their weapons away. Then they all started pullingoff their gang jackets and throwing them away, whooping and hollering.They were making such a racket themselves that they never heard Judy'swarning. They didn't even hear the police sirens. And all at once bothschoolyard entrances were full of cops, a cop had tight hold of Judyand the rumble was over.       Judy was so baffled and terrified that everything was just one greatbig blur. But in the middle of it all, she did see the little kid inthe yellow-and-black costume go scooting away down the street.     And she had the craziest idea that it was all his fault.  <doc-sep>Steffens had not realized that there were so many.     They had been gathering since his ship was first seen, and now therewere hundreds of them clustered upon the hill. Others were arrivingeven as the skiff landed; they glided in over the rocky hills withfantastic ease and power, so that Steffens felt a momentary anxiety.Most of the robots were standing with the silent immobility of metal.Others threaded their way to the fore and came near the skiff, but nonetouched it, and a circle was cleared for Steffens when he came out.       One of the near robots came forward alone, moving, as Steffens nowsaw, on a number of short, incredibly strong and agile legs. The blackthing paused before him, extended a hand as it had done in the picture.Steffens took it, he hoped, warmly; felt the power of the metal throughthe glove of his suit.     Welcome, the robot said, speaking again to his mind, and nowSteffens detected a peculiar alteration in the robot's tone. It wasless friendly now, less—Steffens could not understand—somehow less      interested     , as if the robot had been—expecting someone else.     Thank you, Steffens said. We are deeply grateful for your permissionto land.     Our desire, the robot repeated mechanically, is only to serve.     Suddenly, Steffens began to feel alone, surrounded by machines. Hetried to push the thought out of his mind, because he knew that they      should     seem inhuman. But....     Will the others come down? asked the robot, still mechanically.     Steffens felt his embarrassment. The ship lay high in the mist above,jets throbbing gently.     They must remain with the ship, Steffens said aloud, trusting to therobot's formality not to ask him why. Although, if they could read hismind, there was no need to ask.     For a long while, neither spoke, long enough for Steffens to grow tenseand uncomfortable. He could not think of a thing to say, the robot wasobviously waiting, and so, in desperation, he signaled the Aliencon mento come on out of the skiff.     They came, wonderingly, and the ring of robots widened. Steffens heardthe one robot speak again. The voice was now much more friendly.     We hope you will forgive us for intruding upon your thought. It isour—custom—not to communicate unless we are called upon. But when weobserved that you were in ignorance of our real—nature—and were aboutto leave our planet, we decided to put aside our custom, so that youmight base your decision upon sufficient data.     Steffens replied haltingly that he appreciated their action.     We perceive, the robot went on, that you are unaware of our completeaccess to your mind, and would perhaps be—dismayed—to learn thatwe have been gathering information from you. We must—apologize.Our only purpose was so that we could communicate with you. Onlythat information was taken which is necessary for communicationand—understanding. We will enter your minds henceforth only at yourrequest.     Steffens did not react to the news that his mind was being probedas violently as he might have. Nevertheless it was a shock, and heretreated into observant silence as the Aliencon men went to work.     The robot which seemed to have been doing the speaking was in no waydifferent from any of the others in the group. Since each of the robotswas immediately aware of all that was being said or thought, Steffensguessed that they had sent one forward just for appearance's sake,because they perceived that the Earthmen would feel more at home. Thepicture of the extended hand, the characteristic handshake of Earthmen,had probably been borrowed, too, for the same purpose of making him andthe others feel at ease. The one jarring note was the robot's momentarylapse, those unexplainable few seconds when the things had seemedalmost disappointed. Steffens gave up wondering about that and began toexamine the first robot in detail.     It was not very tall, being at least a foot shorter than the Earthmen.The most peculiar thing about it, except for the circling eye-band ofthe head, was a mass of symbols which were apparently engraved upon themetal chest. Symbols in row upon row—numbers, perhaps—were upon thechest, and repeated again below the level of the arms, and continuedin orderly rows across the front of the robot, all the way down to thebase of the trunk. If they were numbers, Steffens thought, then it wasa remarkably complicated system. But he noticed the same pattern onthe nearer robots, all apparently identical. He was forced to concludethat the symbols were merely decoration and let it go tentatively atthat, although the answer seemed illogical.     It wasn't until he was on his way home that Steffens remembered thesymbols again. And only then did he realized what they were.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What does the siren symbolize in THE SERPENT RIVER?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the story of Captain Linden in THE SERPENT RIVER? [SEP] <s>class=chap/>    Split Campbell and I brought our ship down to a quiet landing on thesummit of a mile-wide naked rock, and I turned to the telescope for acloser view of the strange thing we had come to see.     It shone, eighteen or twenty miles away, in the light of the lateafternoon sun. It was a long silvery serpent-like      something     thatcrawled slowly over the planet's surface.     There was no way of guessing how large it was, at this distance. Itmight have been a rope rolled into shape out of a mountain—or a chainof mountains. It might have been a river of bluish-gray dough that hadshaped itself into a great cable. Its diameter? If it had been a hollowtube, cities could have flowed through it upright without bending theirskyscrapers. It was, to the eye, an endless rope of cloud oozing alongthe surface of the land. No, not cloud, for it had the compactness ofsolid substance.     We could see it at several points among the low foothills. Even fromthis distance we could guess that it had been moving along its coursefor centuries. Moving like a sluggish snake. It followed a deep-wornpath between the nearer hills and the high jagged mountains on thehorizon.       What was it?       Split Campbell and I had been sent here to learn the answers.Our sponsor was the well known EGGWE (the Earth-Galaxy GoodWill Expeditions.) We were under the EGGWE Code. We were the firstexpedition to this planet, but we had come equipped with two importantpieces of advance information. The Keynes-Roy roving cameras (unmanned)had brought back to the Earth choice items of fact about various partsof the universe. From these photos we knew (1) that man lived on thisplanet, a humanoid closely resembling the humans of the Earth; and(2) that a vast cylindrical rope crawled the surface of this land,continuously, endlessly.     We had intentionally landed at what we guessed would be a safe distancefrom the rope. If it were a living thing, like a serpent, we preferrednot to disturb it. If it gave off heat or poisonous gases or deadlyvibrations, we meant to keep our distance. If, on the other hand, itproved to be some sort of vegetable—a vine of glacier proportions—ora river of some silvery, creamy substance—we would move in upon itgradually, gathering facts as we progressed. I could depend uponSplit to record all observable phenomena with the accuracy ofsplit-hairs.     Split was working at the reports like a drudge at this very moment.     I looked up from the telescope, expecting him to be waiting his turneagerly. I misguessed. He didn't even glance up from his books. Rareyoung Campbell! Always a man of duty, never a man of impulse!     Here Campbell, take a look at the 'rope'.     Before I finish the reports, sir? If I recall our Code, Section Two,Order of Duties upon Landing: A—     Forget the Code. Take a look at the rope while the sun's on it.... Seeit?     Yes sir.     Can you see it's moving? See the little clouds of dust coming up fromunder its belly?     Yes sir. An excellent view, Captain Linden.     What do you think of it, Split? Ever see a sight like that before?     No sir.     Well, what about it? Any comments?     Split answered me with an enthusiastic, By gollies, sir! Then, withrestraint, It's precisely what I expected from the photographs, sir.Any orders, sir?     Relax, Split! That's the order. Relax!     Thanks—thanks, Cap! That was his effort to sound informal, thoughcoming from him it was strained. His training had given him anexaggerated notion of the importance of dignity and discipline.     He was naturally so conscientious it was painful. And to top it all,his scientific habit of thought made him want to stop and weigh hiswords even when speaking of casual things such as how much sugar herequired in his coffee.     Needless to say, I had kidded him unmercifully over these traits.Across the millions of miles of space that we had recently traveled(our first voyage together) I had amused myself at his expense. Ihad sworn that he would find, in time, that he couldn't even trimhis fingernails without calipers, or comb his hair without actuallyphysically splitting the hairs that cropped up in the middle of thepart. That was when I had nicknamed him Split—and the wide ears thatstuck out from his stubble-cut blond hair had glowed with the pink ofselfconsciousness. Plainly, he liked the kidding. But if I thought Icould rescue him from the weight of dignity and duty, I was mistaken.     Now he had turned the telescope for a view far to the right. He paused.     What do you see? I asked.     I cannot say definitely. The exact scientific classification of theobject I am observing would call for more detailed scrutiny—     You're seeing some sort of object?     Yes sir.     What sort of object?     A living creature, sir—upright, wearing clothes—     A      man     ?     To all appearances, sir—     You bounder, give me that telescope!  <doc-sep>class=chap/>    4.     Vauna, the beautiful daughter of Tomboldo, came into my life during theweeks that I lay unconscious.     I must have talked aloud much during those feverish hours of darkness.     Campbell! I would call out of a nightmare. Campbell, we're about toland. Is everything set? Check the instruments again, Campbell.     S-s-sh! The low hush of Split Campbell's voice would somehowpenetrate my dream.     The voices about me were soft. My dreams echoed the soft female voicesof this new, strange language.     Campbell, are you there?... Have you forgotten the Code, Campbell?     Quiet, Captain.     Who is it that's swabbing my face? I can't see.     It's Vauna. She's smiling at you, Captain. Can't you see her?     Is this the pretty one we saw through the telescope?     One of them.     And what of the other? There were two together. I remember—     Omosla is here too. She's Vauna's attendant. We're all looking afteryou, Captain Linden. Did you know I performed an operation to relievethe pressure on your brain? You must get well, Captain. The words ofCampbell came through insistently.     After a silence that may have lasted for hours or days, I said,Campbell, you haven't forgot the EGGWE Code?     Of course not, Captain.     Section Four?     Section Four, he repeated in a low voice, as if to pacify me and putme to sleep. Conduct of EGGWE agents toward native inhabitants: A, Noagent shall enter into any diplomatic agreement that shall be construedas binding—     I interrupted. Clause D?     He picked it up. D, no agent shall enter into a marriage contract withany native.... H-m-m. You're not trying to warn me, are you, CaptainLinden? Or are you warning      yourself     ?     At that moment my eyes opened a little. Swimming before my blurredvision was the face of Vauna. I did remember her—yes, she must havehaunted my dreams, for now my eyes burned in an effort to define herfeatures more clearly. This was indeed Vauna, who had been one of theparty of twelve, and had walked beside her father in the face of theattack. Deep within my subconscious the image of her beautiful face andfigure had lingered. I murmured a single word of answer to Campbell'squestion. Myself.     In the hours that followed, I came to know the soft footsteps of Vauna.The caverns in which she and her father and all these Benzendellapeople lived were pleasantly warm and fragrant. My misty impressions oftheir life about me were like the first impressions of a child learningabout the world into which he has been born.     Sometimes I would hear Vauna and her attendant Omosla talking together.Often when Campbell would stop in this part of the cavern to inquireabout me, Omosla would drop in also. She and Campbell were learning toconverse in simple words. And Vauna and I—yes. If I could only avoidblacking out.     I wanted to see her.     So often my eyes would refuse to open. A thousand nightmares. Spaceships shooting through meteor swarms. Stars like eyes. Eyes like stars.The eyes of Vauna, the daughter of Tomboldo. The sensitive stroke ofVauna's fingers, brushing my forehead, pressing my hand.     I regained my health gradually.     Are you quite awake? Vauna would ask me in her musical Benzendellawords. You speak better today. Your friend Campbell has brought youmore recordings of our language, so you can learn to speak more. Myfather is eager to talk with you. But you must sleep more. You arestill weak.     It gave me a weird sensation to awaken in the night, trying to adjustmyself to my surroundings. The Benzendellas were sleep-singers. Bynight they murmured mysterious little songs through their sleep.Strange harmonies whispered through the caves.     And if I stirred restlessly, the footsteps of Vauna might come to methrough the darkness. In her sleeping garments she would come to me,faintly visible in the pink light that filtered through from somecorridor. She would whisper melodious Benzendella words and tell me togo back to sleep, and I would drift into the darkness of my endlessdreams.     The day came when I awakened to see both Vauna and her father standingbefore me. Stern old Tomboldo, with his chalk-smooth face and not ahint of an eyebrow or eyelash, rapped his hand against my ribs, shookthe fiber bed lightly, and smiled. From a pocket concealed in hisflowing cape, he drew forth the musical watch, touched the button, andplayed, Trail of Stars.     I have learned to talk, I said.     You have had a long sleep.     I am well again. See, I can almost walk. But as I started to rise,the wave of blackness warned me, and I restrained my ambition. I willwalk soon.     We will have much to talk about. Your friend has pointed to the starsand told me a strange story of your coming. We have walked around theship. He has told me how it rides through the sky. I can hardly makemyself believe. Tomboldo's eyes cast upward under the strong ridge offorehead where the eyebrows should have been. He was evidently tryingto visualize the flight of a space ship. We will have much to telleach other.     I hope so, I said. Campbell and I came to learn about the      serpentriver     . I resorted to my own language for the last two words, notknowing the Benzendella equivalent.      I     made an eel-like motionwith my arm. But they didn't understand. And before I could explain,the footsteps of other Benzendellas approached, and presently I lookedaround to see that quite an audience had gathered. The most prominentfigure of the new group was the big muscular guard of the black andgreen diamond markings—Gravgak.     You get well? Gravgak said to me. His eyes drilled me closely.     I get well, I said.     The blow on the head, he said, was not meant.     I looked at him. Everyone was looking at him, and I knew this was meantto be an occasion of apology. But the light of fire in Vauna's eyestold me that she did not believe. He saw her look, and his own eyesflashed darts of defiance. With an abrupt word to me, he wheeled andstarted off. Get well!     The crowd of men and women made way for him. But in the arched doorwayhe turned. Vauna. I am ready to speak to you alone.     She started. I reached and barely touched her hand. She stopped. Iwill talk with you later, Gravgak.     Now! he shouted. Alone.     He stalked off. A moment later Vauna, after exchanging a word with herfather, excused herself from the crowd and followed Gravgak.     From the way those in the room looked, I knew this must be a dramaticmoment. It was as if she had acknowledged Gravgak as her master—or herlover. He had called for her. She had followed.     But her old father was still the master. He stepped toward the door.Vauna!... Gravgak!... Come back.     (I will always wonder what might have happened if he hadn't calledthem! Was my distrust of Gravgak justified? Had I become merely ajealous lover—or was I right in my hunch that the tall muscular guardwas a potential traitor?)     Vauna reappeared at once. I believe she was glad that she had beencalled back.     Gravgak came sullenly. At the edge of the crowd in the arched doorwayhe stood scowling.     While we are together, old Tomboldo said quietly, looking around atthe assemblage, I must tell you the decision of the council. Soon wewill move back to the other part of the world.     There were low murmurs of approval through the chamber.     We will wait a few days, Tomboldo went on, until our new friend—he pointed to me—is well enough to travel. We would never leave himhere to the mercy of the savage ones. He and his helper came throughthe sky in time to save us from being destroyed. We must never forgetthis kindness. When we ascend the      Kao-Wagwattl     , the ever moving      rope of life     , these friends shall come with us. On the back ofthe Kao-Wagwattl      they shall ride with us across the land     .  <doc-sep>class=chap/>    THE SERPENT RIVER     By Don Wilcox     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Other Worlds May 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]  <doc-sep>They were there for three days. They were delighted with the place.It was a world with everything, and it seemed to have only twoinhabitants. They went everywhere except into the big cave.     What is there, Adam? asked Captain Stark.     The great serpent lives there. I would not disturb him. He has longbeen cranky because plans he had for us did not materialize. But weare taught that should ever evil come to us, which it cannot if wepersevere, it will come by him.     They learned no more of the real nature of the sphere in their timethere. Yet all but one of them were convinced of the reality when theyleft. And they talked of it as they took off.     A crowd would laugh if told of it, said Stark, but not many wouldlaugh if they had actually seen the place, or them. I am not a gullibleman, but I am convinced of this: that this is a pristine and pure worldand that ours and all the others we have visited are fallen worlds.Here are the prototypes of our first parents before their fall. Theyare garbed in light and innocence, and they have the happiness thatwe have been seeking for centuries. It would be a crime if anyonedisturbed that happiness.     I too am convinced, said Steiner. It is Paradise itself, where thelion lies down with the lamb, and where the serpent has not prevailed.It would be the darkest of crimes if we or others should play the partof the serpent, and intrude and spoil.     I am probably the most skeptical man in the world, said Casper Craigthe tycoon, but I do believe my eyes. I have been there and seen it.It is indeed an unspoiled Paradise; and it would be a crime calling tothe wide heavens for vengeance for anyone to smirch in any way thatperfection.     So much for that. Now to business. Gilbert, take a gram: NinetyMillion Square Miles of Pristine Paradise for Sale or Lease. Farming,Ranching, exceptional opportunities for Horticulture. Gold, Silver,Iron, Earth-Type Fauna. Terms. Special Rates for Large SettlementParties. Write, Gram, or call in person at any of our planetary officesas listed below. Ask for Brochure—Eden Acres Unlimited.  <doc-sep>class=chap/>    3.     They were waving short clubs or whips with stones tied to the ends.They charged up the slope, about sixty yards, swinging their weirdclubs with a threat of death.     Wild disorder suddenly struck the audience. Campbell and I believed wewere about to witness a massacre.     Captain—      Jim     ! You're not going to let this happen!     Our sympathies had gone to the first groups, the peaceable ones. I hadthe same impulse as Campbell—to do something—anything! Yet here wesat in our ship, more than half a mile from our thirty-five or fortyfriends in danger.     Our friends were panicked. But they didn't take flight. They didn'tduck for the holes in the rocky hilltop. Instead, they rallied andpacked themselves around their tall leader. They stood, a defiant wall.     Can we shoot a ray, Jim?     I didn't answer. Later I would recall that Split      could     drop hisdignity under excitement—his Captain Linden and sir. Just now hewanted any sort of split-second order.     We saw the naked warriors run out in a wide circle. They spun andweaved, they twirled their deadly clubs, they danced grotesquely. Theywere closing in. Closer and closer. It was all their party.     Jim, can we shoot?     Hit number sixteen, Campbell.     Split touched the number sixteen signal.     The ship's siren wailed out over the land.     You could tell when the sound struck them. The circle of savage onessuddenly fell apart. The dancing broke into the wildest contortions youever saw. As if they'd been spanked by a wave of electricity. The sirenscream must have sounded like an animal cry from an unknown world. Theattackers ran for the sponge-trees. The rootless jungle came to life.It jerked and jumped spasmodically down the slope. And our siren keptright on singing.     Ready for that hike, Campbell? Give me my equipment coat. I gotinto it. I looked back to the telescope. The tall man of the partyhad behaved with exceptional calmness. He had turned to stare in ourdirection from the instant the siren sounded. He could no doubt makeout the lines of our silvery ship in the shadows. Slowly, deliberately,he marched over the hilltop toward us.     Most of his party now scampered back to the safety of their hidingplaces in the ground. But a few—the brave ones, perhaps, or theofficials of his group—came with him.     He needs a stronger guard than that, Campbell grumbled.     Sixteen was still wailing. Set it for ten minutes and come on, Isaid. Together we descended from the ship.     We took into our nostrils the tangy air, breathing fiercely, at first.We slogged along over the rock surface feeling our weight to beone-and-a-third times normal. We glanced down the slope apprehensively.We didn't want any footraces. The trees, however, were stillretreating. Our siren would sing on for another eight minutes. Andin case of further danger, we were equipped with the standard pocketarsenal of special purpose capsule bombs.     Soon we came face to face with the tall, stately old leader in thecream-and-red cloak.     Split and I stood together, close enough to exchange comments againstthe siren's wail. Fine looking people, we observed. Smooth faces.Like the features of Earth men. These creatures could walk downany main street back home. With a bit of makeup they would pass.Notice, Captain, they have strange looking eyes. Very smooth.It's because they have no eyebrows ... no eye lashes. Verysmooth—handsome—attractive.     Then the siren went off.     The leader stood before me, apparently unafraid. He seemed to bewaiting for me to explain my presence. His group of twelve gathered inclose.     I had met such situations with ease before. EGGWE explorers comeequipped. I held out a gift toward the leader. It was a singingmedallion attached to a chain. It was disc-shaped, patterned after alarge silver coin. It made music at the touch of a button. In clear,dainty bell tones it rang out its one tune, Trail of Stars.     As it played I held it up for inspection. I placed it around my ownneck, then offered it to the leader. I thought he was smiling. He wasnot overwhelmed by the magic of this gadget. He saw it for what itwas, a token of friendship. There was a keenness about him that Iliked. Yes, he was smiling. He bent his head forward and allowed me toplace the gift around his neck.     Tomboldo, he said, pointing to himself.     Split and I tried to imitate his breathy accents as we repeated aloud,Tomboldo.     We pointed to ourselves, in turn, and spoke our own names. And then,as the names of the others were pronounced, we tried to memorize eachbreathy sound that was uttered. I was able to remember four or five ofthem. One was Gravgak.     Gravgak's piercing eyes caused me to notice him. Suspicious eyes? I didnot know these people's expressions well enough to be sure.     Gravgak was a guard, tall and muscular, whose arms and legs werepainted with green and black diamond designs.     By motions and words we didn't understand, we inferred that we wereinvited to accompany the party back home, inside the hill, where wewould be safe. I nodded to Campbell. It's our chance to be guests ofTomboldo. Nothing could have pleased us more. For our big purpose—tounderstand the Serpent River—would be forwarded greatly if we couldlearn, through the people, what its meanings were. To analyze theriver's substance, estimate its rate, its weight, its temperature, andto map its course—these facts were only a part of the information wesought. The fuller story would be to learn how the inhabitants of thisplanet regarded it: whether they loved or shunned it, and what legendsthey may have woven around it. All this knowledge would be useful whenfuture expeditions of men from the Earth followed us (through EGGWE)for an extension of peaceful trade relationships.     Tomboldo depended upon the guard Gravgak to make sure that the way wassafe. Gravgak was supposed to keep an eye on the line of floating treesthat had taken flight down the hillside. Danger still lurked there, weknew. And now the siren that had frightened off the attack was silent.Our ship, locked against invaders, could be forgotten. We were guestsof Tomboldo.     Gravgak was our guard, but he didn't work at it. He was too anxious tohear all the talk. In the excitement of our meeting, everyone ignoredthe growing darkness, the lurking dangers. Gravgak confronted us withagitated jabbering:     Wollo—yeeta—vo—vandartch—vandartch! Grr—see—o—see—o—see—o!     See—o—see—o—see—o, one of the others echoed.     It began to make sense. They wanted us to repeat the siren noises. Theenemy had threatened their lives. There could very well have been awholesale slaughter. But as long as we could make the see—o—see—owe were all safe.     Split and I exchanged glances. He touched his hand to the equipmentjacket, to remind me we were armed with something more miraculous thana yowling siren.     See—o—see—o—see—o! Others of Tomboldo's party echoed the demand.They must have seen the sponge-trees again moving toward our path.      See—o—see—o!          Our peaceful march turned into a spasm of terror. The sponge-treescame rushing up the slope, as if borne by a sudden gust of wind. Theybounced over our path, and the war party spilled out of them.     Shouting. A wild swinging of clubs. And no cat-and-mouse tricks. Nodeliberate circling and closing in. An outright attack. Naked bodiesgleaming in the semi-darkness. Arms swinging weapons, choosing thenearest victims. The luminous rocks on the ends of the clubs flashed.Shouting, screeching, hurling their clubs. The whizzing fury filled theair.     I hurled a capsule bomb. It struck at the base of a bouncingsponge-tree, and blew the thing to bits.     The attackers ran back into a huddle, screaming. Then they cameforward, rushing defiantly.     Our muscular guard, Gravgak was too bold. He had picked up one of theirclubs and he ran toward their advance, and to all of Tomboldo's partyit must have appeared that he was bravely rushing to his death. Yetthe gesture of the club he swung so wildly could have been intended asa      warning     ! It could have meant, Run back, you fools, or thesestrange devils will throw fire at you.     I threw fire. And so did my lieutenant. He didn't wait for orders,thank goodness. He knew it was their lives or ours. Zip, zip,zip—BLANG-BLANG-BLANG! The bursts of fire at their feet ripped therocks. The spray caught them and knocked them back. Three or fourwarriors in the fore ranks were torn up in the blasts. Others wereflattened—and those who were able, ran.     They ran, not waiting for the cover of sponge-trees. Not bothering topick up their clubs.     But the operation was not a complete success. We had suffered a seriouscasualty. The guard Gravgak. He had rushed out too far, and the firstblast of fire and rock had knocked him down. Now Tomboldo and others ofthe party hovered over him.     His eyes opened a little. I thought he was staring at me, drilling mewith suspicion. I worked over him with medicines. The crowd around usstood back in an attitude of awe as Split and I applied ready bandages,and held a stimulant to his nostrils that made him breath back toconsciousness.     Suddenly he came to life. Lying there on his back, with the club stillat his fingertips, he swung up on one elbow. The swift motion causeda cry of joy from the crowd. I heard a little of it—and then blackedout. For as the muscular Gravgak moved, his fingers closed over thehandle of the club. It whizzed upward with him—apparently all byaccident. The stone that dangled from the end of the club crashed intomy head.     I went into instant darkness. Darkness, and a long, long silence.  <doc-sep>  She sipped  her champagneslowly and provocatively acrossthe table from him. Her eyes sparkledbehind the almond slits of hermask, caught the color changes andcast them back. She was wearingcontact lenses of a garish green.     He wished she would hurry withher drink. He had horrible visionsof his wife at home taking off hertelovis and coming to his chair. Hewould then have to press theswitch that would jerk his shadowyself back along its invisible connectingcord, jerk him back andleave but a small mound of clothesupon the chair at the table.     Deep depression laid hold ofhim. He would not be able to seeher after tonight until he receivedhis monthly dole two weeks hence.She wouldn't wait that long. Someoneelse would have her.     Unless ...     Yes, he knew now that he wasgoing to kill his wife as soon as theopportunity presented itself. Itwould be a simple matter. With theaid of the telporter suit, he couldestablish an iron-clad alibi.     He took a long drink of whiskeyand looked at the dancers abouthim. Sight of their gay costumesheightened his depression. He waswearing a cheap suit of satin, all hecould afford. But some day soon hewould show them! Some time soonhe would be dressed as gaily....     Something troubling you,honey?     His gaze shot back to her andshe blurred slightly before his eyes.No. Nothing at all! He summoneda sickly smile and clutchedher hand in his. Come on. Let'sdance.     He drew her from the chair andinto his arms. She melted towardhim as if desiring to become a partof him. A tremor of excitementsurged through him and threatenedto turn his knees into quiveringjelly. He could not make hisfeet conform to the floodingrhythm of the music. He half stumbled,half pushed her along past thebooths.     In the shelter of the palms hedrew her savagely to him. Let's—let'sgo outside. His voice was littlemore than a croak.     But, honey! She pushed herselfaway, her low voice maddeninghim. Don't you have a privateroom? A girl doesn't like to betaken outside....     Her words bit into his brain likethe blade of a hot knife.     No, he didn't have a privateroom at the club like the others. Aprivate room for his telporter receiver,a private room where hecould take a willing guest. No! Hecouldn't afford it! No!      No!     NO!His lot was a cheap suit of satin!Cheap whiskey! Cheap champagne!A cheap shack by theriver....     An inarticulate cry escaped histwisted lips. He clutched her roughlyto him and dragged her throughthe door and into the moonlight,whiskey and anger lending himbrutal strength.     He pulled her through the desertedgarden.      All the others hadprivate rooms!     He pulled her tothe far end, behind a clump ofsquatty firs. His hands clawed ather. He tried to smother her mouthwith kisses.     She eluded him deftly. But,      honey     ! Her voice had gone deeperinto her throat. I just want to besure about things. If you can't affordone of the private rooms—ifyou can't afford to show me a goodtime—if you can't come here realoften ...     The whiskey pounded andthrobbed at his brain like blowsfrom an unseen club. His egocurled and twisted within him likea headless serpent.     I'll have money! he shouted,struggling to hold her. I'll haveplenty of money! After tonight!     Then we'll wait, she said.We'll wait until tomorrow night.     No! he screamed. You don'tbelieve me! You're like the others!You think I'm no good! But I'llshow you! I'll show all of you!   <doc-sep>During the next twenty-four hours, Kaiser and the mother ship exchangedmessages at regular six-hour intervals. In between, he worked atrepairing the damaged scout. He had no more success than before.     He tired easily and lay on the cot often to rest. Each time he seemedto drop off to sleep immediately—and awake at the exact times hehad decided on beforehand. At first, despite the lack of success instraightening the bent metal of the scout bottom, there had been asubdued exhilaration in reporting each new discovery concerning thesymbiote, but as time passed, his enthusiasm ebbed. His one reallyimportant problem was how to repair the scout and he was fast becomingdiscouraged.     At last Kaiser could bear the futility of his efforts no longer. Hesent out a terse message to the      Soscites II     :     TAKING SHORT TRIP TO ANOTHER LOCATION ON RIVER. HOPE TO FIND MOREINTELLIGENT NATIVES. COULD BE THAT THE SETTLEMENT I FOUND HERE ISANALOGOUS TO TRIBE OF MONKEYS ON EARTH. I KNOW THE CHANCE IS SMALL,BUT WHAT HAVE I TO LOSE? I CAN'T FIX SCOUT WITHOUT BETTER TOOLS, ANDIF MY GUESS IS RIGHT, I MAY BE ABLE TO GET EQUIPMENT. EXPECT TO RETURNIN TEN OR TWELVE HOURS. PLEASE KEEP CONTACT WITH SCOUT.     SMOKY     Kaiser packed a mudsled with tent, portable generator and guard wires,a spare sidearm and ammunition, and food for two days. He had noticedthat a range of high hills, which caused the bend in the river atthe native settlement, seemed to continue its long curve, and hewondered if the hills might not turn the river in the shape of a gianthorseshoe. He intended to find out.     Wrapping his equipment in a plastic tarp, Kaiser eased it out thedoorway and tied it on the sled. He hooked a towline to a harness onhis shoulders and began his journey—in the opposite direction from thefirst native settlement.     He walked for more than seven hours before he found that his surmisehad been correct. And a second cluster of huts, and seal-people in theriver, greeted his sight. He received a further pleasant surprise. Thisgroup was decidedly more advanced than the first!     They were little different in actual physical appearance; the changewas mainly noticeable in their actions and demeanor. And their odor wasmore subdued, less repugnant.     By signs, Kaiser indicated that he came in peace, and they seemed tounderstand. A thick-bodied male went solemnly to the river bank andcalled to a second, who dived and brought up a mouthful of weed. Thefirst male took the weed and brought it to Kaiser. This was obviously agesture of friendship.     The weed had a white starchy core and looked edible. Kaiser cleanedpart of it with his handkerchief, bit and chewed it.     The weed had a slight iron taste, but was not unpalatable. He swallowedthe mouthful and tried another. He ate most of what had been given himand waited with some trepidation for a reaction.  <doc-sep>The tracks of his earlier journey had been erased by the soft rain, andwhen Kaiser reached the river, he found that he had not returned tothe village he had visited the day before. However, there were otherseal-people here.     And they were almost human!     The resemblance was still not so much in their physical makeup—thatwas little changed from the first he had found—as in their obviouslygreater intelligence.     This was mainly noticeable in their facile expressions as they talked.Kaiser was even certain that he read smiles on their faces when heslipped on a particularly slick mud patch as he hurried toward them.Where the members of the first tribes had all looked almost exactlyalike, these had very marked individual characteristics. Also, thesehad no odor—only a mild, rather pleasing scent. When they came to meethim, Kaiser could detect distinct syllabism in their pipings.     Most of the natives returned to the river after the first ten minutesof curious inspection, but two stayed behind as Kaiser set up his tent.     One was a female.     They made small noises while he went about his work. After a time, heunderstood that they were trying to give names to his paraphernalia. Hetried saying tent and wire and tarp as he handled each object,but their piping voices could not repeat the words. Kaiser amusedhimself by trying to imitate their sounds for the articles. He wasfairly successful. He was certain that he could soon learn enough tocarry on a limited conversation.     The male became bored after a time and left, but the girl stayed untilKaiser finished. She motioned to him then to follow. When they reachedthe river bank, he saw that she wanted him to go into the water.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the story of Captain Linden in THE SERPENT RIVER?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the dynamic between Captain Linden and his lieutenant ""Split"" Campbell in THE SERPENT RIVER? [SEP] <s>class=chap/>    Split Campbell and I brought our ship down to a quiet landing on thesummit of a mile-wide naked rock, and I turned to the telescope for acloser view of the strange thing we had come to see.     It shone, eighteen or twenty miles away, in the light of the lateafternoon sun. It was a long silvery serpent-like      something     thatcrawled slowly over the planet's surface.     There was no way of guessing how large it was, at this distance. Itmight have been a rope rolled into shape out of a mountain—or a chainof mountains. It might have been a river of bluish-gray dough that hadshaped itself into a great cable. Its diameter? If it had been a hollowtube, cities could have flowed through it upright without bending theirskyscrapers. It was, to the eye, an endless rope of cloud oozing alongthe surface of the land. No, not cloud, for it had the compactness ofsolid substance.     We could see it at several points among the low foothills. Even fromthis distance we could guess that it had been moving along its coursefor centuries. Moving like a sluggish snake. It followed a deep-wornpath between the nearer hills and the high jagged mountains on thehorizon.       What was it?       Split Campbell and I had been sent here to learn the answers.Our sponsor was the well known EGGWE (the Earth-Galaxy GoodWill Expeditions.) We were under the EGGWE Code. We were the firstexpedition to this planet, but we had come equipped with two importantpieces of advance information. The Keynes-Roy roving cameras (unmanned)had brought back to the Earth choice items of fact about various partsof the universe. From these photos we knew (1) that man lived on thisplanet, a humanoid closely resembling the humans of the Earth; and(2) that a vast cylindrical rope crawled the surface of this land,continuously, endlessly.     We had intentionally landed at what we guessed would be a safe distancefrom the rope. If it were a living thing, like a serpent, we preferrednot to disturb it. If it gave off heat or poisonous gases or deadlyvibrations, we meant to keep our distance. If, on the other hand, itproved to be some sort of vegetable—a vine of glacier proportions—ora river of some silvery, creamy substance—we would move in upon itgradually, gathering facts as we progressed. I could depend uponSplit to record all observable phenomena with the accuracy ofsplit-hairs.     Split was working at the reports like a drudge at this very moment.     I looked up from the telescope, expecting him to be waiting his turneagerly. I misguessed. He didn't even glance up from his books. Rareyoung Campbell! Always a man of duty, never a man of impulse!     Here Campbell, take a look at the 'rope'.     Before I finish the reports, sir? If I recall our Code, Section Two,Order of Duties upon Landing: A—     Forget the Code. Take a look at the rope while the sun's on it.... Seeit?     Yes sir.     Can you see it's moving? See the little clouds of dust coming up fromunder its belly?     Yes sir. An excellent view, Captain Linden.     What do you think of it, Split? Ever see a sight like that before?     No sir.     Well, what about it? Any comments?     Split answered me with an enthusiastic, By gollies, sir! Then, withrestraint, It's precisely what I expected from the photographs, sir.Any orders, sir?     Relax, Split! That's the order. Relax!     Thanks—thanks, Cap! That was his effort to sound informal, thoughcoming from him it was strained. His training had given him anexaggerated notion of the importance of dignity and discipline.     He was naturally so conscientious it was painful. And to top it all,his scientific habit of thought made him want to stop and weigh hiswords even when speaking of casual things such as how much sugar herequired in his coffee.     Needless to say, I had kidded him unmercifully over these traits.Across the millions of miles of space that we had recently traveled(our first voyage together) I had amused myself at his expense. Ihad sworn that he would find, in time, that he couldn't even trimhis fingernails without calipers, or comb his hair without actuallyphysically splitting the hairs that cropped up in the middle of thepart. That was when I had nicknamed him Split—and the wide ears thatstuck out from his stubble-cut blond hair had glowed with the pink ofselfconsciousness. Plainly, he liked the kidding. But if I thought Icould rescue him from the weight of dignity and duty, I was mistaken.     Now he had turned the telescope for a view far to the right. He paused.     What do you see? I asked.     I cannot say definitely. The exact scientific classification of theobject I am observing would call for more detailed scrutiny—     You're seeing some sort of object?     Yes sir.     What sort of object?     A living creature, sir—upright, wearing clothes—     A      man     ?     To all appearances, sir—     You bounder, give me that telescope!  <doc-sep>class=chap/>    4.     Vauna, the beautiful daughter of Tomboldo, came into my life during theweeks that I lay unconscious.     I must have talked aloud much during those feverish hours of darkness.     Campbell! I would call out of a nightmare. Campbell, we're about toland. Is everything set? Check the instruments again, Campbell.     S-s-sh! The low hush of Split Campbell's voice would somehowpenetrate my dream.     The voices about me were soft. My dreams echoed the soft female voicesof this new, strange language.     Campbell, are you there?... Have you forgotten the Code, Campbell?     Quiet, Captain.     Who is it that's swabbing my face? I can't see.     It's Vauna. She's smiling at you, Captain. Can't you see her?     Is this the pretty one we saw through the telescope?     One of them.     And what of the other? There were two together. I remember—     Omosla is here too. She's Vauna's attendant. We're all looking afteryou, Captain Linden. Did you know I performed an operation to relievethe pressure on your brain? You must get well, Captain. The words ofCampbell came through insistently.     After a silence that may have lasted for hours or days, I said,Campbell, you haven't forgot the EGGWE Code?     Of course not, Captain.     Section Four?     Section Four, he repeated in a low voice, as if to pacify me and putme to sleep. Conduct of EGGWE agents toward native inhabitants: A, Noagent shall enter into any diplomatic agreement that shall be construedas binding—     I interrupted. Clause D?     He picked it up. D, no agent shall enter into a marriage contract withany native.... H-m-m. You're not trying to warn me, are you, CaptainLinden? Or are you warning      yourself     ?     At that moment my eyes opened a little. Swimming before my blurredvision was the face of Vauna. I did remember her—yes, she must havehaunted my dreams, for now my eyes burned in an effort to define herfeatures more clearly. This was indeed Vauna, who had been one of theparty of twelve, and had walked beside her father in the face of theattack. Deep within my subconscious the image of her beautiful face andfigure had lingered. I murmured a single word of answer to Campbell'squestion. Myself.     In the hours that followed, I came to know the soft footsteps of Vauna.The caverns in which she and her father and all these Benzendellapeople lived were pleasantly warm and fragrant. My misty impressions oftheir life about me were like the first impressions of a child learningabout the world into which he has been born.     Sometimes I would hear Vauna and her attendant Omosla talking together.Often when Campbell would stop in this part of the cavern to inquireabout me, Omosla would drop in also. She and Campbell were learning toconverse in simple words. And Vauna and I—yes. If I could only avoidblacking out.     I wanted to see her.     So often my eyes would refuse to open. A thousand nightmares. Spaceships shooting through meteor swarms. Stars like eyes. Eyes like stars.The eyes of Vauna, the daughter of Tomboldo. The sensitive stroke ofVauna's fingers, brushing my forehead, pressing my hand.     I regained my health gradually.     Are you quite awake? Vauna would ask me in her musical Benzendellawords. You speak better today. Your friend Campbell has brought youmore recordings of our language, so you can learn to speak more. Myfather is eager to talk with you. But you must sleep more. You arestill weak.     It gave me a weird sensation to awaken in the night, trying to adjustmyself to my surroundings. The Benzendellas were sleep-singers. Bynight they murmured mysterious little songs through their sleep.Strange harmonies whispered through the caves.     And if I stirred restlessly, the footsteps of Vauna might come to methrough the darkness. In her sleeping garments she would come to me,faintly visible in the pink light that filtered through from somecorridor. She would whisper melodious Benzendella words and tell me togo back to sleep, and I would drift into the darkness of my endlessdreams.     The day came when I awakened to see both Vauna and her father standingbefore me. Stern old Tomboldo, with his chalk-smooth face and not ahint of an eyebrow or eyelash, rapped his hand against my ribs, shookthe fiber bed lightly, and smiled. From a pocket concealed in hisflowing cape, he drew forth the musical watch, touched the button, andplayed, Trail of Stars.     I have learned to talk, I said.     You have had a long sleep.     I am well again. See, I can almost walk. But as I started to rise,the wave of blackness warned me, and I restrained my ambition. I willwalk soon.     We will have much to talk about. Your friend has pointed to the starsand told me a strange story of your coming. We have walked around theship. He has told me how it rides through the sky. I can hardly makemyself believe. Tomboldo's eyes cast upward under the strong ridge offorehead where the eyebrows should have been. He was evidently tryingto visualize the flight of a space ship. We will have much to telleach other.     I hope so, I said. Campbell and I came to learn about the      serpentriver     . I resorted to my own language for the last two words, notknowing the Benzendella equivalent.      I     made an eel-like motionwith my arm. But they didn't understand. And before I could explain,the footsteps of other Benzendellas approached, and presently I lookedaround to see that quite an audience had gathered. The most prominentfigure of the new group was the big muscular guard of the black andgreen diamond markings—Gravgak.     You get well? Gravgak said to me. His eyes drilled me closely.     I get well, I said.     The blow on the head, he said, was not meant.     I looked at him. Everyone was looking at him, and I knew this was meantto be an occasion of apology. But the light of fire in Vauna's eyestold me that she did not believe. He saw her look, and his own eyesflashed darts of defiance. With an abrupt word to me, he wheeled andstarted off. Get well!     The crowd of men and women made way for him. But in the arched doorwayhe turned. Vauna. I am ready to speak to you alone.     She started. I reached and barely touched her hand. She stopped. Iwill talk with you later, Gravgak.     Now! he shouted. Alone.     He stalked off. A moment later Vauna, after exchanging a word with herfather, excused herself from the crowd and followed Gravgak.     From the way those in the room looked, I knew this must be a dramaticmoment. It was as if she had acknowledged Gravgak as her master—or herlover. He had called for her. She had followed.     But her old father was still the master. He stepped toward the door.Vauna!... Gravgak!... Come back.     (I will always wonder what might have happened if he hadn't calledthem! Was my distrust of Gravgak justified? Had I become merely ajealous lover—or was I right in my hunch that the tall muscular guardwas a potential traitor?)     Vauna reappeared at once. I believe she was glad that she had beencalled back.     Gravgak came sullenly. At the edge of the crowd in the arched doorwayhe stood scowling.     While we are together, old Tomboldo said quietly, looking around atthe assemblage, I must tell you the decision of the council. Soon wewill move back to the other part of the world.     There were low murmurs of approval through the chamber.     We will wait a few days, Tomboldo went on, until our new friend—he pointed to me—is well enough to travel. We would never leave himhere to the mercy of the savage ones. He and his helper came throughthe sky in time to save us from being destroyed. We must never forgetthis kindness. When we ascend the      Kao-Wagwattl     , the ever moving      rope of life     , these friends shall come with us. On the back ofthe Kao-Wagwattl      they shall ride with us across the land     .  <doc-sep>class=chap/>    3.     They were waving short clubs or whips with stones tied to the ends.They charged up the slope, about sixty yards, swinging their weirdclubs with a threat of death.     Wild disorder suddenly struck the audience. Campbell and I believed wewere about to witness a massacre.     Captain—      Jim     ! You're not going to let this happen!     Our sympathies had gone to the first groups, the peaceable ones. I hadthe same impulse as Campbell—to do something—anything! Yet here wesat in our ship, more than half a mile from our thirty-five or fortyfriends in danger.     Our friends were panicked. But they didn't take flight. They didn'tduck for the holes in the rocky hilltop. Instead, they rallied andpacked themselves around their tall leader. They stood, a defiant wall.     Can we shoot a ray, Jim?     I didn't answer. Later I would recall that Split      could     drop hisdignity under excitement—his Captain Linden and sir. Just now hewanted any sort of split-second order.     We saw the naked warriors run out in a wide circle. They spun andweaved, they twirled their deadly clubs, they danced grotesquely. Theywere closing in. Closer and closer. It was all their party.     Jim, can we shoot?     Hit number sixteen, Campbell.     Split touched the number sixteen signal.     The ship's siren wailed out over the land.     You could tell when the sound struck them. The circle of savage onessuddenly fell apart. The dancing broke into the wildest contortions youever saw. As if they'd been spanked by a wave of electricity. The sirenscream must have sounded like an animal cry from an unknown world. Theattackers ran for the sponge-trees. The rootless jungle came to life.It jerked and jumped spasmodically down the slope. And our siren keptright on singing.     Ready for that hike, Campbell? Give me my equipment coat. I gotinto it. I looked back to the telescope. The tall man of the partyhad behaved with exceptional calmness. He had turned to stare in ourdirection from the instant the siren sounded. He could no doubt makeout the lines of our silvery ship in the shadows. Slowly, deliberately,he marched over the hilltop toward us.     Most of his party now scampered back to the safety of their hidingplaces in the ground. But a few—the brave ones, perhaps, or theofficials of his group—came with him.     He needs a stronger guard than that, Campbell grumbled.     Sixteen was still wailing. Set it for ten minutes and come on, Isaid. Together we descended from the ship.     We took into our nostrils the tangy air, breathing fiercely, at first.We slogged along over the rock surface feeling our weight to beone-and-a-third times normal. We glanced down the slope apprehensively.We didn't want any footraces. The trees, however, were stillretreating. Our siren would sing on for another eight minutes. Andin case of further danger, we were equipped with the standard pocketarsenal of special purpose capsule bombs.     Soon we came face to face with the tall, stately old leader in thecream-and-red cloak.     Split and I stood together, close enough to exchange comments againstthe siren's wail. Fine looking people, we observed. Smooth faces.Like the features of Earth men. These creatures could walk downany main street back home. With a bit of makeup they would pass.Notice, Captain, they have strange looking eyes. Very smooth.It's because they have no eyebrows ... no eye lashes. Verysmooth—handsome—attractive.     Then the siren went off.     The leader stood before me, apparently unafraid. He seemed to bewaiting for me to explain my presence. His group of twelve gathered inclose.     I had met such situations with ease before. EGGWE explorers comeequipped. I held out a gift toward the leader. It was a singingmedallion attached to a chain. It was disc-shaped, patterned after alarge silver coin. It made music at the touch of a button. In clear,dainty bell tones it rang out its one tune, Trail of Stars.     As it played I held it up for inspection. I placed it around my ownneck, then offered it to the leader. I thought he was smiling. He wasnot overwhelmed by the magic of this gadget. He saw it for what itwas, a token of friendship. There was a keenness about him that Iliked. Yes, he was smiling. He bent his head forward and allowed me toplace the gift around his neck.     Tomboldo, he said, pointing to himself.     Split and I tried to imitate his breathy accents as we repeated aloud,Tomboldo.     We pointed to ourselves, in turn, and spoke our own names. And then,as the names of the others were pronounced, we tried to memorize eachbreathy sound that was uttered. I was able to remember four or five ofthem. One was Gravgak.     Gravgak's piercing eyes caused me to notice him. Suspicious eyes? I didnot know these people's expressions well enough to be sure.     Gravgak was a guard, tall and muscular, whose arms and legs werepainted with green and black diamond designs.     By motions and words we didn't understand, we inferred that we wereinvited to accompany the party back home, inside the hill, where wewould be safe. I nodded to Campbell. It's our chance to be guests ofTomboldo. Nothing could have pleased us more. For our big purpose—tounderstand the Serpent River—would be forwarded greatly if we couldlearn, through the people, what its meanings were. To analyze theriver's substance, estimate its rate, its weight, its temperature, andto map its course—these facts were only a part of the information wesought. The fuller story would be to learn how the inhabitants of thisplanet regarded it: whether they loved or shunned it, and what legendsthey may have woven around it. All this knowledge would be useful whenfuture expeditions of men from the Earth followed us (through EGGWE)for an extension of peaceful trade relationships.     Tomboldo depended upon the guard Gravgak to make sure that the way wassafe. Gravgak was supposed to keep an eye on the line of floating treesthat had taken flight down the hillside. Danger still lurked there, weknew. And now the siren that had frightened off the attack was silent.Our ship, locked against invaders, could be forgotten. We were guestsof Tomboldo.     Gravgak was our guard, but he didn't work at it. He was too anxious tohear all the talk. In the excitement of our meeting, everyone ignoredthe growing darkness, the lurking dangers. Gravgak confronted us withagitated jabbering:     Wollo—yeeta—vo—vandartch—vandartch! Grr—see—o—see—o—see—o!     See—o—see—o—see—o, one of the others echoed.     It began to make sense. They wanted us to repeat the siren noises. Theenemy had threatened their lives. There could very well have been awholesale slaughter. But as long as we could make the see—o—see—owe were all safe.     Split and I exchanged glances. He touched his hand to the equipmentjacket, to remind me we were armed with something more miraculous thana yowling siren.     See—o—see—o—see—o! Others of Tomboldo's party echoed the demand.They must have seen the sponge-trees again moving toward our path.      See—o—see—o!          Our peaceful march turned into a spasm of terror. The sponge-treescame rushing up the slope, as if borne by a sudden gust of wind. Theybounced over our path, and the war party spilled out of them.     Shouting. A wild swinging of clubs. And no cat-and-mouse tricks. Nodeliberate circling and closing in. An outright attack. Naked bodiesgleaming in the semi-darkness. Arms swinging weapons, choosing thenearest victims. The luminous rocks on the ends of the clubs flashed.Shouting, screeching, hurling their clubs. The whizzing fury filled theair.     I hurled a capsule bomb. It struck at the base of a bouncingsponge-tree, and blew the thing to bits.     The attackers ran back into a huddle, screaming. Then they cameforward, rushing defiantly.     Our muscular guard, Gravgak was too bold. He had picked up one of theirclubs and he ran toward their advance, and to all of Tomboldo's partyit must have appeared that he was bravely rushing to his death. Yetthe gesture of the club he swung so wildly could have been intended asa      warning     ! It could have meant, Run back, you fools, or thesestrange devils will throw fire at you.     I threw fire. And so did my lieutenant. He didn't wait for orders,thank goodness. He knew it was their lives or ours. Zip, zip,zip—BLANG-BLANG-BLANG! The bursts of fire at their feet ripped therocks. The spray caught them and knocked them back. Three or fourwarriors in the fore ranks were torn up in the blasts. Others wereflattened—and those who were able, ran.     They ran, not waiting for the cover of sponge-trees. Not bothering topick up their clubs.     But the operation was not a complete success. We had suffered a seriouscasualty. The guard Gravgak. He had rushed out too far, and the firstblast of fire and rock had knocked him down. Now Tomboldo and others ofthe party hovered over him.     His eyes opened a little. I thought he was staring at me, drilling mewith suspicion. I worked over him with medicines. The crowd around usstood back in an attitude of awe as Split and I applied ready bandages,and held a stimulant to his nostrils that made him breath back toconsciousness.     Suddenly he came to life. Lying there on his back, with the club stillat his fingertips, he swung up on one elbow. The swift motion causeda cry of joy from the crowd. I heard a little of it—and then blackedout. For as the muscular Gravgak moved, his fingers closed over thehandle of the club. It whizzed upward with him—apparently all byaccident. The stone that dangled from the end of the club crashed intomy head.     I went into instant darkness. Darkness, and a long, long silence.  <doc-sep>class=chap/>    2.     If you have explored the weird life of many a planet, as I have, youcan appreciate the deep sense of excitement that comes over me when,looking out at a new world for the first time, I see a man-like animal.     Walking upright!     Wearing adornments in the nature of clothing!     I gazed, and my lungs filled with the breath of wonderment. A man!Across millions of miles of space—a man, like the men of the Earth.     Six times before in my life of exploration I had gazed at new realmswithin the approachable parts of our universe, but never before had theliving creatures borne such wonderful resemblance to the human life ofour Earth.     A man!     He might have been creeping on all fours.     He might have been skulking like a lesser animal.     He might have been entirely naked.     He was none of these—and at the very first moment of viewing him Ifelt a kinship toward him. Oh, he was primitive in appearance—but hadmy ancestors not been the same? Was this not a mirror of my own racea million years or so ago? I sensed that my own stream of life hadsomehow crossed with his in ages gone by. How? Who can ever know? Bywhat faded charts of the movements through the sky will man ever beable to retrace relationships of forms of life among planets?     Get ready to go out and meet him, Campbell, I said. He's a friend.     Split Campbell gave me a look as if to say, Sir, you don't even knowwhat sort of animal he is, actually, much less whether he's friendly ormurderous.     There are some things I can sense on first sight, Campbell. Take myword for it, he's a friend.     I didn't say anything, sir.     Good. Don't. Just get ready.     We're going to go      out     —?     Yes, I said. Orders.     And meet both of them? Split was at the telescope.     Both? I took the instrument from him. Both! Well!     They seem to be coming out of the ground, Split said. I see no signsof habitation, but apparently we've landed on top of an undergroundcity—though I hasten to add that this is only an hypothesis.     One's a male and the other's a female, I said.     Another hypothesis, said Split.     The late evening sunshine gave us a clear view of our two friends.They were fully a mile away. Split was certain they had not seen ourship, and to this conclusion I was in agreement. They had apparentlycome up out of the barren rock hillside to view the sunset. I studiedthem through the telescope while Split checked over equipment for ahike.     The man's walk was unhurried. He moved thoughtfully, one mightguess. His bare chest and legs showed him to be statuesque in mold,cleanly muscled, fine of bone. His skin was almost the color of thecream-colored robe which flowed from his back, whipping lightly inthe breeze. He wore a brilliant red sash about his middle, and thiswas matched by a red headdress that came down over his shoulders as acircular mantle.     The girl stood several yards distant, watching him. This was somesort of ritual, no doubt. He was not concerned with her, but with thesetting sun. Its rays were almost horizontal, knifing through a breakin the distant mountain skyline. He went through some routine motions,his moving arms highlighted by the lemon-colored light of evening.     The girl approached him. Two other persons appeared from somewhere backof her.... Three.... Four.... Five....     Where do they come from? Split had paused in the act of checkingequipment to take his turn at the telescope. If he had not done so, Imight not have made a discovery. The landscape was      moving     .     The long shadows that I had not noticed through the telescope were aprominent part of the picture I saw through the ship's window when Ilooked out across the scene with the naked eye. The shadows were moving.     They were tree shadows. They were moving toward the clearing where thecrowd gathered. And the reason for their movement was that the treesthemselves were moving.     Notice anything? I asked Split.     The crowd is growing. We've certainly landed on top of a city. Hegazed. They're coming from underground.     Looking through the telescope, obviously he didn't catch the view ofthe moving trees.     Notice anything else unusual? I persisted.     Yes. The females—I'm speaking hypothetically—but they      must     befemales—are all wearing puffy white fur ornaments around their elbows.I wonder why?     You haven't noticed the trees?     The females are quite attractive, said Split.     I forgot about the moving trees, then, and took over the telescope.Mobile trees were not new to me. I had seen similar vegetation on otherplanets—sponge-trees—which possessed a sort of muscular quality. Ifthese were similar, they were no doubt feeding along the surface of theslope below the rocky plateau. The people in the clearing beyond paidno attention to them.     I studied the crowd of people. Only the leader wore the brilliant garb.The others were more scantily clothed. All were handsome of build. Thelemon-tinted sunlight glanced off the muscular shoulders of the malesand the soft curves of the females.     Those furry elbow ornaments on the females, I said to Split,they're for protection. The caves they live in must be narrow, sothey pad their elbows.     Why don't they pad their shoulders? They don't have anything on theirshoulders.     Are you complaining?     We became fascinated in watching, from the seclusion of our ship. If wewere to walk out, or make any sounds, we might have interrupted theirmeeting. Here they were in their native ritual of sunset, not knowingthat people from another world watched. The tall leader must be makinga speech. They sat around him in little huddles. He moved his arms incalm, graceful gestures.     They'd better break it up! Split said suddenly. The jungles aremoving in on them.     They're spellbound, I said. They're used to sponge-trees. Didn't youever see moving trees?     Split said sharply, Those trees are marching! They're an army undercover. Look!     I saw, then. The whole line of advancing vegetation was camouflage fora sneak attack. And all those natives sitting around in meeting were asinnocent as a flock of sitting ducks. Split Campbell's voice was edgedwith alarm. Captain! Those worshippers—how can we warn them? Oh-oh!Too late. Look!     All at once the advancing sponge-trees were tossed back over the headsof the savage band concealed within. They were warriors—fifty or moreof them—with painted naked bodies. They dashed forward in a widesemicircle, swinging crude weapons, bent on slaughter.  <doc-sep>class=chap/>    THE SERPENT RIVER     By Don Wilcox     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Other Worlds May 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]  <doc-sep>They were there for three days. They were delighted with the place.It was a world with everything, and it seemed to have only twoinhabitants. They went everywhere except into the big cave.     What is there, Adam? asked Captain Stark.     The great serpent lives there. I would not disturb him. He has longbeen cranky because plans he had for us did not materialize. But weare taught that should ever evil come to us, which it cannot if wepersevere, it will come by him.     They learned no more of the real nature of the sphere in their timethere. Yet all but one of them were convinced of the reality when theyleft. And they talked of it as they took off.     A crowd would laugh if told of it, said Stark, but not many wouldlaugh if they had actually seen the place, or them. I am not a gullibleman, but I am convinced of this: that this is a pristine and pure worldand that ours and all the others we have visited are fallen worlds.Here are the prototypes of our first parents before their fall. Theyare garbed in light and innocence, and they have the happiness thatwe have been seeking for centuries. It would be a crime if anyonedisturbed that happiness.     I too am convinced, said Steiner. It is Paradise itself, where thelion lies down with the lamb, and where the serpent has not prevailed.It would be the darkest of crimes if we or others should play the partof the serpent, and intrude and spoil.     I am probably the most skeptical man in the world, said Casper Craigthe tycoon, but I do believe my eyes. I have been there and seen it.It is indeed an unspoiled Paradise; and it would be a crime calling tothe wide heavens for vengeance for anyone to smirch in any way thatperfection.     So much for that. Now to business. Gilbert, take a gram: NinetyMillion Square Miles of Pristine Paradise for Sale or Lease. Farming,Ranching, exceptional opportunities for Horticulture. Gold, Silver,Iron, Earth-Type Fauna. Terms. Special Rates for Large SettlementParties. Write, Gram, or call in person at any of our planetary officesas listed below. Ask for Brochure—Eden Acres Unlimited.  <doc-sep>The other officers of the      T.R.S. Aphrodite     were in conference withthe Captain when Cob and the girl at his side reached the flyingbridge. She was tall and dark-haired with regular features and paleblue eyes. She wore a service jumper with two silver stripes on theshoulder-straps, and even the shapeless garment could not hide theobvious trimness of her figure.     Strike's back was toward the bulkhead, and he was addressing the others.     ... and that's about the story. We are to jet within 28,000,000 milesof Sol. Orbit is trans-Mercurian hyperbolic. With Mars in opposition,we have to make a perihelion run and it won't be pleasant. But I'mcertain this old boiler can take it. I understand the old boy whodesigned her wasn't as incompetent as they say. But Space Regs arespecific about mail runs. This is important to you, Evans. Yourastrogation has to be accurate to within twenty-five miles plus orminus the shortest route. And there'll be no breaking orbit. Now becertain that the refrigeration units are checked, Mister Wilkins,especially in the hydroponic cells. Pure air is going to be important.     That's about all there is to tell you. As soon as our ratherleisurely E/O gets here, we can jet with Aunt Nelly's postcard. Henodded. That's the story. Lift ship in.... He glanced at his wristchronograph, ... in an hour and five.     The officers filed out and Cob Whitley stuck his head into the room.Captain?     Come in, Cob. Strike's dark brows knit at the sight of the uniformedgirl in the doorway.     Cob's face was sober, but hidden amusement was kindling behind hiseyes. Captain, may I present Lieutenant Hendricks? Lieutenant      I-vy     Hendricks?     Strike looked blankly at the girl.     Our new E/O, Captain, prompted Whitley.     Uh ... welcome aboard, Miss Hendricks, was all the Captain could findto say.     The girl's eyes were cold and unfriendly. Thank you, Captain. Hervoice was like cracked ice tinkling in a glass. If I may have yourpermission to inspect the drives, Captain, I      may     be able toconvince you that the designer of this vessel was not ... as you seemto think ... a senile incompetent.     Strike was perplexed, and he showed it. Why, certainly ... uh ...Miss ... but why should you be so....     The girl's voice was even colder than before as she said, HarlanHendricks, Captain, is my father.  <doc-sep>Kaiser came wide awake in a cold sweat. The clock showed that only anhour had passed since he had sent his last message to the ship. Stillfive more long hours to wait. He rose and wiped the sweat from his neckand shoulders and restlessly paced the small corridor of the scout.     After a few minutes, he stopped pacing and peered out into the gloom ofBig Muddy. The rain seemed to have eased off some. Not much more than aheavy drizzle now.     Kaiser reached impulsively for the slicker he had thrown over a chestagainst one wall and put it on, then a pair of hip-high plastic bootsand a plastic hat. He opened the door. The scout had come to rest witha slight tilt when it crashed, and Kaiser had to sit down and rollover onto his stomach to ease himself to the ground.     The weather outside was normal for Big Muddy: wet, humid, and warm.     Kaiser sank to his ankles in soft mud before his feet reached solidground. He half walked and half slid to the rear of the scout. Besidethe ship, the octopus was busily at work. Tentacles and antennae,extending from the yard-high box of its body, tested and recordedtemperature, atmosphere, soil, and all other pertinent planetaryconditions. The octopus was connected to the ship's communicator andall its findings were being transmitted to the mother ship for study.     Kaiser observed that it was working well and turned toward a wide,sluggish river, perhaps two hundred yards from the scout. Once there,he headed upstream. He could hear the pipings, and now and then ahigher whistling, of the seal-people before he reached a bend and sawthem. As usual, most were swimming in the river.       One old fellow, whose chocolate-brown fur showed a heavy intermixtureof gray, was sitting on the bank of the river just at the bend. Perhapsa lookout. He pulled himself to his feet as he spied Kaiser and histoothless, hard-gummed mouth opened and emitted a long whistle thatmight have been a greeting—or a warning to the others that a strangerapproached.     The native stood perhaps five feet tall, with the heavy, blubberybody of a seal, and short, thick arms. Membranes connected the armsto his body from shoulder-pits to mid-biceps. The arms ended inthree-fingered, thumbless hands. His legs also were short and thick,with footpads that splayed out at forty-five-degree angles. They gavehis legs the appearance of a split tail. About him hung a rank-fishsmell that made Kaiser's stomach squirm.     The old fellow sounded a cheerful chirp as Kaiser came near. Feelingslightly ineffectual, Kaiser raised both hands and held them palmforward. The other chirped again and Kaiser went on toward the maingroup.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the dynamic between Captain Linden and his lieutenant ""Split"" Campbell in THE SERPENT RIVER?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in POSAT? [SEP] <s>   What is POSAT?     By PHYLLIS STERLING SMITH     Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Of course coming events cast their shadows     before, but this shadow was 400 years long!      The following advertisement appeared in the July 1953 issue of severalmagazines:     MASTERY OF ALL KNOWLEDGE CAN BE YOURS!     What is the secret source of those profound     principles that can solve the problems of life?     Send for our FREE booklet of explanation.     Do not be a leaf in the wind! YOU     can alter the course of your life!     Tap the treasury of Wisdom through the ages!     The Perpetual Order of Seekers After Truth     POSAT     an ancient secret society     Most readers passed it by with scarcely a glance. It was, after all,similar to the many that had appeared through the years under thename of that same society. Other readers, as their eyes slid over thefamiliar format of the ad, speculated idly about the persistent andmildly mysterious organization behind it. A few even resolved to clipthe attached coupon and send for the booklet—sometime—when a pen orpencil was nearer at hand.     Bill Evans, an unemployed pharmacist, saw the ad in a copy of      YourLife and Psychology     that had been abandoned on his seat in the bus.He filled out the blanks on the coupon with a scrap of stubby pencil.You can alter the course of your life! he read again. He particularlyliked that thought, even though he had long since ceased to believeit. He actually took the trouble to mail the coupon. After all, hehad, literally, nothing to lose, and nothing else to occupy his time.     Miss Elizabeth Arnable was one of the few to whom the advertisementwas unfamiliar. As a matter of fact, she very seldom read a magazine.The radio in her room took the place of reading matter, and she alwaysliked to think that it amused her cats as well as herself. Readingwould be so selfish under the circumstances, wouldn't it? Not but whatthe cats weren't almost smart enough to read, she always said.     It just so happened, however, that she had bought a copy of the      Antivivisectionist Gazette     the day before. She pounced upon the POSATad as a trout might snap at a particularly attractive fly. Havingfilled out the coupon with violet ink, she invented an errand thatwould take her past the neighborhood post office so that she could postit as soon as possible.     Donald Alford, research physicist, came across the POSAT ad tucked atthe bottom of a column in      The Bulletin of Physical Research     . He wasengrossed in the latest paper by Dr. Crandon, a man whom he admiredfrom the point of view of both a former student and a fellow researchworker. Consequently, he was one of the many who passed over the POSATad with the disregard accorded to any common object.     He read with interest to the end of the article before he realized thatsome component of the advertisement had been noted by a region of hisbrain just beyond consciousness. It teased at him like a tickle thatcouldn't be scratched until he turned back to the page.     It was the symbol or emblem of POSAT, he realized, that had caught hisattention. The perpendicularly crossed ellipses centered with a smallblack circle might almost be a conventionalized version of the Bohratom of helium. He smiled with mild skepticism as he read through theprinted matter that accompanied it.     I wonder what their racket is, he mused. Then, because his typewriterwas conveniently at hand, he carefully tore out the coupon and insertedit in the machine. The spacing of the typewriter didn't fit the dottedlines on the coupon, of course, but he didn't bother to correct it.He addressed an envelope, laid it with other mail to be posted, andpromptly forgot all about it. Since he was a methodical man, it wasentrusted to the U.S. mail early the next morning, together with hisother letters.     Three identical forms accompanied the booklet which POSAT sent inresponse to the three inquiries. The booklet gave no more informationthan had the original advertisement, but with considerable morevolubility. It promised the recipient the secrets of the Cosmos and thekey that would unlock the hidden knowledge within himself—if he wouldmerely fill out the enclosed form.     Bill Evans, the unemployed pharmacist, let the paper lie unanswered forseveral days. To be quite honest, he was disappointed. Although he hadmentally disclaimed all belief in anything that POSAT might offer, hehad watched the return mails with anticipation. His own resources werealmost at an end, and he had reached the point where intervention bysomething supernatural, or at least superhuman, seemed the only hope.     He had hoped, unreasonably, that POSAT had an answer. But time layheavily upon him, and he used it one evening to write the requestedinformation—about his employment (ha!), his religious beliefs, hisreason for inquiring about POSAT, his financial situation. Withoutquite knowing that he did so, he communicated in his terse answers someof his desperation and sense of futility.     Miss Arnable was delighted with the opportunity for autobiographicalcomposition. It required five extra sheets of paper to convey all theinformation that she wished to give—all about her poor, dear fatherwho had been a missionary to China, and the kinship that she felttoward the mystic cults of the East, her belief that her cats werereincarnations of her loved ones (which, she stated, derived from areligion of the Persians; or was it the Egyptians?) and in her completeand absolute acceptance of everything that POSAT had stated in theirbooklet. And what would the dues be? She wished to join immediately.Fortunately, dear father had left her in a comfortable financialsituation.     To Donald Alford, the booklet seemed to confirm his suspicion thatPOSAT was a racket of some sort. Why else would they be interested inhis employment or financial position? It also served to increase hiscuriosity.     What do you suppose they're driving at? he asked his wife Betty,handing her the booklet and questionnaire.     I don't really know what to say, she answered, squinting a little asshe usually did when puzzled. I know one thing, though, and that'sthat you won't stop until you find out!     The scientific attitude, he acknowledged with a grin.     Why don't you fill out this questionnaire incognito, though? shesuggested. Pretend that we're wealthy and see if they try to get ourmoney. Do they have anything yet except your name and address?     Don was shocked. If I send this back to them, it will have to be withcorrect answers!     The scientific attitude again, Betty sighed. Don't you ever let yourimagination run away with the facts a bit? What are you going to givefor your reasons for asking about POSAT?     Curiosity, he replied, and, pulling his fountain pen from his vestpocket, he wrote exactly that, in small, neat script.     It was unfortunate for his curiosity that Don could not see thecontents of the three envelopes that were mailed from the offices ofPOSAT the following week. For this time they differed.     Bill Evans was once again disappointed. The pamphlet that was enclosedgave what apparently meant to be final answers to life's problems. Theywere couched in vaguely metaphysical terms and offered absolutely nohelp to him.     His disappointment was tempered, however, by the knowledge that hehad unexpectedly found a job. Or, rather, it had fallen into his lap.When he had thought that every avenue of employment had been tried, aposition had been offered him in a wholesale pharmacy in the olderindustrial part of the city. It was not a particularly attractive placeto work, located as it was next to a large warehouse, but to him it washope for the future.     It amused him to discover that the offices of POSAT were located on theother side of the same warehouse, at the end of a blind alley. Blindalley indeed! He felt vaguely ashamed for having placed any confidencein them.     Miss Arnable was thrilled to discover that her envelope contained notonly several pamphlets, (she scanned the titles rapidly and found thatone of them concerned the sacred cats of ancient Egypt), but that itcontained also a small pin with the symbol of POSAT wrought in gold andblack enamel. The covering letter said that she had been accepted as anactive member of POSAT and that the dues were five dollars per month;please remit by return mail. She wrote a check immediately, and settledcontentedly into a chair to peruse the article on sacred cats.     After a while she began to read aloud so that her own cats could enjoyit, too.     Don Alford would not have been surprised if his envelope had showncontents similar to the ones that the others received. The foldedsheets of paper that he pulled forth, however, made him stiffen withsharp surprise.       Come here a minute, Betty, he called, spreading them out carefully onthe dining room table. What do you make of these?     She came, dish cloth in hand, and thoughtfully examined them, one byone. Multiple choice questions! It looks like a psychological test ofsome sort.     This isn't the kind of thing I expected them to send me, worriedDon. Look at the type of thing they ask. 'If you had discovereda new and virulent poison that could be compounded from commonhousehold ingredients, would you (1) publish the information in adaily newspaper, (2) manufacture it secretly and sell it as rodentexterminator, (3) give the information to the armed forces for useas a secret weapon, or (4) withhold the information entirely as toodangerous to be passed on?'     Could they be a spy ring? asked Betty. Subversive agents? Anxious tofind out your scientific secrets like that classified stuff that you'reso careful of when you bring it home from the lab?     Don scanned the papers quickly. There's nothing here that looks likean attempt to get information. Besides, I've told them nothing aboutmy work except that I do research in physics. They don't even knowwhat company I work for. If this is a psychological test, it measuresattitudes, nothing else. Why should they want to know my attitudes?     Do you suppose that POSAT is really what it claims to be—a secretsociety—and that they actually screen their applicants?     He smiled wryly. Wouldn't it be interesting if I didn't make the gradeafter starting out to expose their racket?     He pulled out his pen and sat down to the task of resolving thedilemmas before him.     His next communication from POSAT came to his business address and,paradoxically, was more personal than its forerunners.     Dear Doctor Alford:     We have examined with interest the information that you have sent tous. We are happy to inform you that, thus far, you have satisfied therequirements for membership in the Perpetual Order of Seekers AfterTruth. Before accepting new members into this ancient and honorablesecret society, we find it desirable that they have a personalinterview with the Grand Chairman of POSAT.     Accordingly, you are cordially invited to an audience with our GrandChairman on Tuesday, July 10, at 2:30 P.M. Please let us know if thisarrangement is acceptable to you. If not, we will attempt to makeanother appointment for you.     The time specified for the appointment was hardly a convenient onefor Don. At 2:30 P.M. on most Tuesdays, he would be at work in thelaboratory. And while his employers made no complaint if he took hisresearch problems home with him and worried over them half the night,they were not equally enthusiastic when he used working hours forpursuing unrelated interests. Moreover, the headquarters of POSAT wasin a town almost a hundred miles distant. Could he afford to take awhole day off for chasing will-o-wisps?     It hardly seemed worth the trouble. He wondered if Betty would bedisappointed if he dropped the whole matter. Since the letter had beensent to the laboratory instead of his home, he couldn't consult herabout it without telephoning.       Since the letter had been sent to the laboratory instead of his home!     But it was impossible!     He searched feverishly through his pile of daily mail for theenvelope in which the letter had come. The address stared up at him,unmistakably and fearfully legible. The name of his company. The numberof the room he worked in. In short, the address that he had never giventhem!     Get hold of yourself, he commanded his frightened mind. There's someperfectly logical, easy explanation for this. They looked it up in thedirectory of the Institute of Physics. Or in the alumni directory ofthe university. Or—or—     But the more he thought about it, the more sinister it seemed. Hislaboratory address was available, but why should POSAT take the troubleof looking it up? Some prudent impulse had led him to withhold thatparticular bit of information, yet now, for some reason of their own,POSAT had unearthed the information.     His wife's words echoed in his mind, Could they be a spy ring?Subversive agents?     Don shook his head as though to clear away the confusion. Hisconservative habit of thought made him reject that explanation as toomelodramatic.     At least one decision was easier to reach because of his doubts. Now heknew he had to keep his appointment with the Grand Chairman of POSAT.     He scribbled a memo to the department office stating that he would notbe at work on Tuesday.  <doc-sep>At first Don Alford had some trouble locating the POSAT headquarters.It seemed to him that the block in which the street number would fallwas occupied entirely by a huge sprawling warehouse, of concreteconstruction, and almost entirely windowless. It was recessed from thestreet in several places to make room for the small, shabby buildingsof a wholesale pharmacy, a printer's plant, an upholstering shop, andwas also indented by alleys lined with loading platforms.     It was at the back of one of the alleys that he finally found a doormarked with the now familiar emblem of POSAT.     He opened the frosted glass door with a feeling of misgiving, and faceda dark flight of stairs leading to the upper floor. Somewhere above hima buzzer sounded, evidently indicating his arrival. He picked his wayup through the murky stairwell.     The reception room was hardly a cheerful place, with its battered deskfacing the view of the empty alley, and a film of dust obscuring thepattern of the gray-looking wallpaper and worn rug. But the light ofthe summer afternoon filtering through the window scattered the gloomsomewhat, enough to help Don doubt that he would find the menace herethat he had come to expect.     The girl addressing envelopes at the desk looked very ordinary.      Notthe Mata-Hari type     , thought Don, with an inward chuckle at his ownsuspicions. He handed her the letter.     She smiled. We've been expecting you, Dr. Alford. If you'll just stepinto the next room—     She opened a door opposite the stairwell, and Don stepped through it.     The sight of the luxurious room before him struck his eyes with theshock of a dentist's drill, so great was the contrast between it andthe shabby reception room. For a moment Don had difficulty breathing.The rug—Don had seen one like it before, but it had been in a museum.The paintings on the walls, ornately framed in gilt carving, weresurely old masters—of the Renaissance period, he guessed. Although herecognized none of the pictures, he felt that he could almost name theartists. That glowing one near the corner would probably be a Titian.Or was it Tintorretto? He regretted for a moment the lost opportunitiesof his college days, when he had passed up Art History in favor ofOperational Circuit Analysis.     The girl opened a filing cabinet, the front of which was set flush withthe wall, and, selecting a folder from it, disappeared through anotherdoor.     Don sprang to examine the picture near the corner. It was hung at eyelevel—that is, at the eye level of the average person. Don had to bendover a bit to see it properly. He searched for a signature. Apparentlythere was none. But did artists sign their pictures back in thosedays? He wished he knew more about such things.     Each of the paintings was individually lighted by a fluorescent tubeheld on brackets directly above it. As Don straightened up from hisscrutiny of the picture, he inadvertently hit his head against thelight. The tube, dislodged from its brackets, fell to the rug with amuffled thud.       Now I've done it!     thought Don with dismay. But at least the tubehadn't shattered.     In fact—it was still glowing brightly! His eyes registered the fact,even while his mind refused to believe it. He raised his eyes to thebrackets. They were simple pieces of solid hardware designed to supportthe tube.     There were no wires!     Don picked up the slender, glowing cylinder and held it betweentrembling fingers. Although it was delivering as much light as a twoor three hundred watt bulb, it was cool to the touch. He examined itminutely. There was no possibility of concealed batteries.     The thumping of his heart was caused not by the fact that he had neverseen a similar tube before, but because he had. He had never heldone in his hands, though. The ones which his company had produced asexperimental models had been unsuccessful at converting all of theradioactivity into light, and had, of necessity, been heavily shielded.     Right now, two of his colleagues back in the laboratory would stillbe searching for the right combination of fluorescent materialand radioactive salts with which to make the simple, efficient,self-contained lighting unit that he was holding in his hand at thismoment!       But this is impossible!     he thought.      We're the only company that'sworking on this, and it's secret. There can't be any in actualproduction!       And even if one had actually been successfully produced, how would ithave fallen into the possession of POSAT, an Ancient Secret Society,The Perpetual Order of Seekers After Truth?     The conviction grew in Don's mind that here was something much deeperand more sinister than he would be able to cope with. He should haveasked for help, should have stated his suspicions to the police or theF.B.I. Even now—     With sudden decision, he thrust the lighting tube into his pocket andstepped swiftly to the outer door. He grasped the knob and shook itimpatiently when it stuck and refused to turn. He yanked at it. Hisimpatience changed to panic. It was locked!     A soft sound behind him made him whirl about. The secretary hadentered again through the inner door. She glanced at the vacant lightbracket, then significantly at his bulging pocket. Her gaze was stillas bland and innocent as when he had entered, but to Don she no longerseemed ordinary. Her very calmness in the face of his odd actions wasdistressingly ominous.     Our Grand Chairman will see you now, she said in a quiet voice.     Don realized that he was half crouched in the position of an animalexpecting attack. He straightened up with what dignity he could manageto find.     She opened the inner door again and Don followed her into what hesupposed to be the office of the Grand Chairman of POSAT.     Instead he found himself on a balcony along the side of a vast room,which must have been the interior of the warehouse that he had notedoutside. The girl motioned him toward the far end of the balcony, wherea frosted glass door marked the office of the Grand Chairman.       But Don could not will his legs to move. His heart beat at the sight ofthe room below him. It was a laboratory, but a laboratory the like ofwhich he had never seen before. Most of the equipment was unfamiliarto him. Whatever he did recognize was of a different design than he hadever used, and there was something about it that convinced him thatthis was more advanced. The men who bent busily over their instrumentsdid not raise their eyes to the figures on the balcony.     Good Lord! Don gasped. That's an atomic reactor down there! Therecould be no doubt about it, even though he could see it only obscurelythrough the bluish-green plastic shielding it.     His thoughts were so clamorous that he hardly realized that he hadspoken aloud, or that the door at the end of the balcony had opened.     He was only dimly aware of the approaching footsteps as he speculatedwildly on the nature of the shielding material. What could be so densethat only an inch would provide adequate shielding and yet remainsemitransparent?     His scientist's mind applauded the genius who had developed it, even asthe alarming conviction grew that he wouldn't—couldn't—be allowed toleave here any more. Surely no man would be allowed to leave this placealive to tell the fantastic story to the world!     Hello, Don, said a quiet voice beside him. It's good to see youagain.     Dr. Crandon! he heard his own voice reply.       You're     the GrandChairman of POSAT?     He felt betrayed and sick at heart. The very voice with whichCrandon had spoken conjured up visions of quiet lecture halls andhis own youthful excitement at the masterful and orderly disclosureof scientific facts. To find him here in this mad and treacherousplace—didn't anything make sense any longer?     I think we have rather abused you, Don, Dr. Crandon continued. Hisvoice sounded so gentle that Don found it hard to think there was anyevil in it. I can see that you are suspicious of us, and—yes—afraid.  <doc-sep>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>Don's incredulity thawed a little. It was not entirely beyond the realmof possibility.     But if it were true! A vast panorama of possible achievements spreadbefore him.     Four hundred years! he murmured with awe. You've had four hundredyears head-start on the rest of the world! What wonders you must haveuncovered in that time!     Our technical achievements may disappoint you, warned Crandon.Oh, they're way beyond anything that you are familiar with. You'veundoubtedly noticed the shielding material on the reactor. That's afairly recent development of our metallurgical department. There areother things in the laboratory that I can't even explain to you untilyou have caught up on the technical basis for understanding them.     Our emphasis has not been on physical sciences, however, except asthey contribute to our central project. We want to change civilizationso that it can use physical science without disaster.     For a moment Don had been fired with enthusiasm. But at these words hisheart sank.     Then you've failed, he said bitterly. In spite of centuries ofadvance warning, you've failed to change the rest of us enough toprevent us from trying to blow ourselves off the Earth. Here we are,still snarling and snapping at our neighbors' throats—and we've caughtup with you. We have the atomic bomb. What's POSAT been doing all thattime? Or have you found that human nature really can't be changed?     Come with me, said Crandon.     He led the way along the narrow balcony to another door, then down asteep flight of stairs. He opened a door at the bottom, and Don sawwhat must have been the world's largest computing machine.     This is our answer, said Crandon. Oh, rather, it's the tool by whichwe find our answer. For two centuries we have been working on thenewest of the sciences—that of human motivation. Soon we will be readyto put some of our new knowledge to work. But you are right in onerespect, we are working now against time. We must hurry if we are tosave our civilization. That's why you are here. We have work for you todo. Will you join us, Don?     But why the hocus-pocus? asked Don. Why do you hide behind such aweird front as POSAT? Why do you advertise in magazines and invite justanyone to join? Why didn't you approach me directly, if you have workfor me to do? And if you really have the answers to our problems, whyhaven't you gathered together all the scientists in the world to workon this project—before it's too late?     Crandon took a sighing breath. How I wish that we could do just that!But you forget that one of the prime purposes of our organization isto maintain the secrecy of our discoveries until they can be safelydisclosed. We must be absolutely certain that anyone who enters thisbuilding will have joined POSAT before he leaves. What if we approachedthe wrong scientist? Centuries of accomplishment might be wasted ifthey attempted either to reveal it or to exploit it!     Do you recall the questionnaires that you answered before you wereinvited here? We fed the answers to this machine and, as a result, weknow more about how you will react in any given situation than you doyourself. Even if you should fail to join us, our secrets would besafe with you. Of course, we miss a few of the scientists who mightbe perfect material for our organization. You'd be surprised, though,at how clever our advertisements are at attracting exactly the men wewant. With the help of our new science, we have baited our ads well,and we know how to maintain interest. Curiosity is, to the men we want,a powerful motivator.     But what about the others? asked Don. There must be hundreds ofapplicants who would be of no use to you at all.     Oh, yes, replied Crandon. There are the mild religious fanatics. Weenroll them as members and keep them interested by sending pamphlets inline with their interests. We even let them contribute to our upkeep,if they seem to want to. They never get beyond the reception room ifthey come to call on us. But they are additional people through whom wecan act when the time finally comes.     There are also the desperate people who try POSAT as a lastresort—lost ones who can't find their direction in life. For them weput into practice some of our newly won knowledge. We rehabilitatethem—anonymously, of course. Even find jobs or patch up homes. It'sgood practice for us.     I think I've answered most of your questions, Don. But you haven'tanswered mine. Will you join us?     Don looked solemnly at the orderly array of the computer before him.He had one more question.     Will it really work? Can it actually tell you how to motivate thestubborn, quarrelsome, opinionated people one finds on this Earth?     Crandon smiled. You're here, aren't you?     Don nodded, his tense features relaxing.     Enroll me as a member, he said.   <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>Don stared at the scene below him. After his initial glance to confirmhis identification of Crandon, Don could not bear to look at him.     Crandon's voice suddenly hardened, became abrupt. You're partly rightabout us, of course. I hate to think how many laws this organizationhas broken. Don't condemn us yet, though. You'll be a member yourselfbefore the day is over.     Don was shocked by such confidence in his corruptibility.     What do you use? he asked bitterly. Drugs? Hypnosis?     Crandon sighed. I forgot how little you know, Don. I have a longstory to tell you. You'll find it hard to believe at first. But try totrust me. Try to believe me, as you once did. When I say that much ofwhat POSAT does is illegal, I do not mean immoral. We're probably themost moral organization in the world. Get over the idea that you havestumbled into a den of thieves.     Crandon paused as though searching for words with which to continue.     Did you notice the paintings in the waiting room as you entered?     Don nodded, too bewildered to speak.     They were donated by the founder of our Organization. They were partof his personal collection—which, incidentally, he bought from theartists themselves. He also designed the atomic reactor we use forpower here in the laboratory.     Then the pictures are modern, said Don, aware that his mouth washanging open foolishly. I thought one was a Titian—     It is, said Crandon. We have several original Titians, although Ireally don't know too much about them.     But how could a man alive      today     buy paintings from an artist of theRenaissance?     He is not alive today. POSAT is actually what our advertisementsclaim—an      ancient     secret society. Our founder has been dead for overfour centuries.     But you said that he designed your atomic reactor.     Yes. This particular one has been in use for only twenty years,however.     Don's confusion was complete. Crandon looked at him kindly. Let'sstart at the beginning, he said, and Don was back again in theclassroom with the deep voice of Professor Crandon unfolding thepages of knowledge in clear and logical manner. Four hundred yearsago, in the time of the Italian Renaissance, a man lived who was asuper-genius. His was the kind of incredible mentality that appears notin every generation, or even every century, but once in thousands ofyears.     Probably the man who invented what we call the phonetic alphabet wasone like him. That man lived seven thousand years ago in Mesopotamia,and his discovery was so original, so far from the natural courseof man's thinking, that not once in the intervening seven thousandyears has that device been rediscovered. It still exists only in thecivilizations to which it has been passed on directly.     The super-genius who was our founder was not a semanticist. He wasa physical scientist and mathematician. Starting with the meagerheritage that existed in these fields in his time, he began tacklingphysical puzzles one by one. Sitting in his study, using as hisprincipal tool his own great mind, he invented calculus, developed thequantum theory of light, moved on to electromagnetic radiation and whatwe call Maxwell's equations—although, of course, he antedated Maxwellby centuries—developed the special and general theories of relativity,the tool of wave mechanics, and finally, toward the end of his life, hemathematically derived the packing fraction that describes the bindingenergy of nuclei—     But it can't be done, Don objected. It's an observed phenomenon. Ithasn't been derived. Every conservative instinct that he possessedcried out against this impossible fantasy. And yet—there sat thereactor, sheathed in its strange shield. Crandon watched the directionof Don's glance.     Yes, the reactor, said Crandon. He built one like it. It confirmedhis theories. His calculations showed him something else too. He sawthe destructive potentialities of an atomic explosion. He himself couldnot have built an atomic bomb; he didn't have the facilities. But hisknowledge would have enabled other men to do so. He looked abouthim. He saw a political setup of warring principalities, rival states,intrigue, and squabbles over political power. Giving the men of histime atomic energy would have been like handing a baby a firecrackerwith a lighted fuse.     What should he have done? Let his secrets die with him? Hedidn't think so. No one else in his age could have      derived     theknowledge that he did. But it was an age of brilliant men. Leonardo.Michelangelo. There were men capable of      learning     his science, even asmen can learn it today. He gathered some of them together and foundedthis society. It served two purposes. It perpetuated his discoveriesand at the same time it maintained the greatest secrecy about them. Heurged that the secrets be kept until the time when men could use themsafely. The other purpose was to make that time come about as soon aspossible.     Crandon looked at Don's unbelieving face. How can I make you see thatit is the truth? Think of the eons that man or manlike creatures havewalked the Earth. Think what a small fraction of that time is fourhundred years. Is it so strange that atomic energy was discovered alittle early, by this displacement in time that is so tiny after all?     But by one man, Don argued.     Crandon shrugged. Compared with him, Don, you and I are stupid men.So are the scientists who slowly plodded down the same road he hadcome, stumbling first on one truth and then the succeeding one. We knowthat inventions and discoveries do not occur at random. Each is basedon the one that preceded it. We are all aware of the phenomenon ofsimultaneous invention. The path to truth is a straight one. It is onlyour own stupidity that makes it seem slow and tortuous.     He merely followed the straight path, Crandon finished simply.  <doc-sep>   HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS     By JIM HARMON     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Every lonely man tries to make friends.     Manet just didn't know when to stop!      William Manet was alone.     In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It wouldgive him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlateloneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take himto start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to beginteaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminablelectures to a bored and captive audience of one.     He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whetherit was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and asdirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal andthink more like a god than any man for generations.     But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearingbore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.     Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was alreadytalking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he hadcut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up andwinked at it whenever he passed that way.     Lately she was winking back at him.     Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh fromhis arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.     No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manetcould only be this lonely on Mars.     Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.     All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middleof the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat,flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in theblack sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moonsand one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The wholegimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one wasneeded here—no human being, at least.     The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn'ttake much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefullyspecified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycombMars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.     They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated peoplefor the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going toisolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manetand his fellows.     The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fareto Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuterservice for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodationsfor couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren'tproviding fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits betweenthe various Overseers. They weren't very providential.     But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offeredwonderful opportunities.     It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship makinga tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning asbright as envy.  <doc-sep>She was pink and clean and her platinum hair was pulled straight back,drawing her cheek-bones tighter, straightening her wide, appealingmouth, drawing her lean, athletic, feminine body erect. She was wearinga powder-blue dress that covered all of her breasts and hips and theupper half of her legs.     The most wonderful thing about her was her perfume. Then I realized itwasn't perfume, only the scent of soap. Finally, I knew it wasn't that.It was just healthy, fresh-scrubbed skin.     I went to her at the bus stop, forcing my legs not to stagger. Nobodywould help a drunk. I don't know why, but nobody will help you if theythink you are blotto.     Ma'am, could you help a man who's not had work? I kept my eyes down.I couldn't look a human in the eye and ask for help. Just a dime for acup of coffee. I knew where I could get it for three cents, maybe twoand a half.     I felt her looking at me. She spoke in an educated voice, one she used,perhaps, as a teacher or supervising telephone operator. Do you wantit for coffee, or to apply, or a glass or hypo of something else?     I cringed and whined. She would expect it of me. I suddenly realizedthat anybody as clean as she was had to be a tourist here. I hatetourists.     Just coffee, ma'am. She was younger than I was, so I didn't have tocall her that. A little more for food, if you could spare it.     I hadn't eaten in a day and a half, but I didn't care much.     I'll buy you a dinner, she said carefully, provided I can go withyou and see for myself that you actually eat it.     I felt my face flushing red. You wouldn't want to be seen with a bumlike me, ma'am.     I'll be seen with you if you really want to eat.     It was certainly unfair and probably immoral. But I had no choicewhatever.     Okay, I said, tasting bitterness over the craving.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in POSAT?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the background of the story's setting? [SEP] <s>It took three weeks to make the return trip to Swamp City. The Varsoomfollowed us far beyond the frontier of their country like an unseenarmy in the throes of laughing gas. Not until we reached Level Five didthe last chuckle fade into the distance.     All during that trek back, Grannie sat in the dugout, staring silentlyout before her.     But when we reached Swamp City, the news was flung at us from allsides. One newspaper headline accurately told the story: DOCTORUNIVERSE BID FOR SYSTEM DICTATORSHIP SQUELCHED BY RIDICULE OF UNSEENAUDIENCE. QUIZ MASTER NOW IN HANDS OF I.P. COUP FAILURE.     Grannie, I said that night as we sat again in a rear booth of THEJET, what are you going to do now? Give up writing science fiction?     She looked at me soberly, then broke into a smile.     Just because some silly form of life that can't even be seen doesn'tappreciate it? I should say not. Right now I've got an idea for a swellyarn about Mars. Want to come along while I dig up some backgroundmaterial?     I shook my head. Not me, I said.     But I knew I would.   <doc-sep>  THE SOUL EATERS     By WILLIAM CONOVER     Firebrand Dennis Brooke had one final chance     to redeem himself by capturing Koerber whose     ships were the scourge of the Void. But his     luck had run its course, and now he was     marooned on a rogue planet—fighting to save     himself from a menace weapons could not kill.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1944.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]            And so, my dear     , Dennis detected a faint irony in the phrase,       I'mafraid I can offer no competition to the beauties of five planets—oris it six? With regret I bow myself out, and knowing me as you do,you'll understand the futility of trying to convince me again. Anyway,there will be no temptation, for I'm sailing on a new assignment I'veaccepted. I did love you.... Good-by.          Dennis Brooke had lost count of the times he'd read Marla's lastletter, but every time he came to these final, poignant lines, theynever failed to conjure a vision of her tawny loveliness, slender asthe palms of Venus, and of the blue ecstasy of her eyes, wide with aperpetual wonder—limpid as a child's.     The barbaric rhythms of the      Congahua     , were a background of annoyancein Dennis' mind; he frowned slightly as the maneuvers of the Mercuriandancer, who writhed among the guests of the notorious pleasure palace,began to leave no doubt as to her intentions. The girl was beautiful,in a sultry, almost incandescent sort of way, but her open promise lefthim cold. He wanted solitude, somewhere to coordinate his thoughtsin silence and salvage something out of the wreck of his heart, notto speak of his career. But Venus, in the throes of a gigantic boomupon the discovery of radio-active fields, could offer only onesolitude—the fatal one of her swamps and virgin forests.     Dennis Brooke was thirty, the time when youth no longer seems unending.When the minor adventures of the heart begin to pall. If the loss ofMarla left an aching void that all the women of five planets could notfill, the loss of Space, was quite as deadly. For he had been grounded.True, Koerber's escape from the I.S.P. net had not quite been hisfault; but had he not been enjoying the joys of a voluptuous JovianChamber, in Venus' fabulous Inter-planetary Palace, he would have beenready for duty to complete the last link in the net of I.S.P. cruisersthat almost surrounded the space pirate.     A night in the Jovian Chamber, was to be emperor for one night. Everydream of a man's desire was marvelously induced through the skilful useof hypnotics; the rarest viands and most delectable drinks appeared asif by magic; the unearthly peace of an Olympus descended on a man'ssoul, and beauty ... beauty such as men dreamed of was a warm realityunder the ineffable illumination of the Chamber.     It cost a young fortune. But to pleasure mad, boom-ridden Venus, afortune was a bagatelle. Only it had cost Dennis Brooke far more than asheaf of credits—it had cost him the severe rebuff of the I.S.P., andmost of his heart in Marla.     Dennis sighed, he tilted his red, curly head and drank deeply of theinsidious      Verbena     , fragrant as a mint garden, in the tall frostyglass of Martian      Bacca-glas     , and as he did so, his brilliant hazeleyes found themselves gazing into the unwinking, violet stare of ayoung Martian at the next table. There was a smouldering hatred inthose eyes, and something else ... envy, perhaps, or was it jealousy?Dennis couldn't tell. But his senses became instantly alert. Dangerbrought a faint vibration which his superbly trained faculties couldinstantly denote.     His steady, bronzed hand lowered the drink, and his eyes narrowedslightly. Absorbed in trying to puzzle the sudden enmity of thisMartian stranger, he was unaware of the Mercurian Dancer. The latterhad edged closer, whirling in prismatic flashes from the myriadsemi-precious stones that studded her brief gauze skirt. And now, ina final bid for the spacer's favor she flung herself in his lap andtilted back invitingly.     Some of the guests laughed, others stared in plain envy at thehandsome, red-haired spacer, but from the table across, came thetinkling sound of a fragile glass being crushed in a powerful hand,and a muffled Martian curse. Without warning, the Martian was on hisfeet with the speed of an Hellacorium, the table went crashing to oneside as he leaped with deadly intent on the sprawled figure of DennisBrooke. A high-pitched scream brought instant silence as a Terran girlcried out. Then the Martian's hand reached out hungrily. But Dennis wasnot there.  <doc-sep>April fields stretched darkly away on either side of the highway.Presently she turned down a rutted road between two of them and theybounced and swayed back to a black blur of trees. Here we are, shesaid.     Gradually he made out the sphere. It blended so flawlessly with itsbackground that he wouldn't have been able to see it at all if hehadn't been informed of its existence. A gangplank sloped down from anopen lock and came to rest just within the fringe of the trees.     Lights danced in the darkness behind them as another car jounced downthe rutted road. Jilka, Kay said. I wonder if she got him.     Apparently she had. At least there was a man with her—a ratherwoebegone, wilted creature who didn't even look up as they passed.Quidley watched them ascend the gangplank, the man in the lead, anddisappear into the ship.     Next, Kay said.     Quidley shook his head. You're not taking      me     to another planet!     She opened her purse and pulled out a small metallic object Alittle while ago you asked me what a      snoll doper     was, she said.Unfortunately interstellar law severely limits us in our choice ofmarriageable males, and we can take only those who refuse to conformto the sexual mores of their own societies. She did something to theobject that caused it to extend itself into a long, tubular affair.      This     is a      snoll doper     .     She prodded his ribs. March, she said.     He marched. Halfway up the plank he glanced back over his shoulder fora better look at the object pressed against his back.     It bore a striking resemblance to a shotgun.  <doc-sep>Greetings, it said! Greetings! Ball was mumbling incredulouslythrough shocked lips.     Everyone on the ship had heard the voice. When it spoke again, Steffenswas not sure whether it was just one voice or many voices.     We await your coming, it said gravely, and repeated: Our desire isonly to serve.     And then the robots sent a      picture     .     As perfect and as clear as a tridim movie, a rectangular plate tookshape in Steffens' mind. On the face of the plate, standing aloneagainst a background of red-brown, bare rocks, was one of the robots.With slow, perfect movement, the robot carefully lifted one of thehanging arms of its side, of its      right     side, and extended it towardSteffens, a graciously offered hand.     Steffens felt a peculiar, compelling urge to take the hand, realizedright away that the urge to take the hand was not entirely his. Therobot mind had helped.     When the picture vanished, he knew that the others had seen it. Hewaited for a while; there was no further contact, but the feeling ofthe robot's urging was still strong within him. He had an idea that, ifthey wanted to, the robots could control his mind. So when nothing morehappened, he began to lose his fear.     While the crew watched in fascination, Steffens tried to talk back.He concentrated hard on what he was saying, said it aloud for goodmeasure, then held his own hand extended in the robot manner of shakinghands.     Greetings, he said, because it was what      they     had said, andexplained: We have come from the stars.     It was overly dramatic, but so was the whole situation. He wonderedbaffledly if he should have let the Alien Contact crew handle it. Ordersomeone to stand there, feeling like a fool, and      think     a message?     No, it was his responsibility; he had to go on:     We request—we respectfully request permission to land upon yourplanet.  <doc-sep>Back on Earth it was a warm, misty spring day—the kind of day unknownto the planet Mars. Bella and Scribney, superb in new spring outfits,waited restlessly while the rocket cooled and the passengers recoveredfrom deceleration.     Look, Scrib! Bella clutched Scribney's substantial arm. It's finallyopening.     They watched the airlock open and the platform wheel into place. Theywatched the passengers descend, looking a trifle dazed.     There he is! cried Bella. Why, doesn't he look wonderful! Scrib,it's amazing! Look at him!     And indeed, Harper was stepping briskly downward, looking spry and fitand years younger. He came across to them actually beaming. It was thefirst pleasant expression they had seen on his face in years.     Well, you old dog! exclaimed Scribney affectionately. So you did itagain!     Harper smirked. Yep, I turned a neat little deal. I bought outHagerty's Enzymes and staffed the plant with the hotel's robots. Gotboth of 'em dirt cheap. Both concerns going bankrupt because theydidn't have sense enough to swap their workers. Feel I owe you a bitfor that tip about enzymes, Scrib, so I made out a block of stock toyou. All right?     All right? Scribney gulped. Why, the dried-up little turnip was humanafter all. All right! Yes, sir! But aren't you going to use some ofthose robots for office help? Aren't they efficient and all that?     Harper's smile vanished. Don't even mention such a thing! he yelped.You don't know what you're saying! I lived with those things forweeks. I wouldn't have one around! Keep 'em in the factory where theybelong!     He glimpsed the composed, wonderfully human face of his secretary,waiting patiently in the background. Oh there you are, Smythe. Heturned to his relatives. Busy day ahead. See you later, folks—     Same old Harp, observed Scribney. Then he thought of the block ofstock. What say we celebrate our rise to a position in the syndicate,honey?     Wonderful! She squeezed his arm, and smiling at each other, they leftthe port.   <doc-sep>But the others had disappeared in the blackness. The Butcher waited andthen sat down beside the uninjes. Brute laid his head on his knee andgrowled faintly down the corridor.     Take it easy, Brute, the Butcher consoled him. I don't thinkTamerlane was really a Scand of the Navies anyhow.     Two chattering girls hardly bigger than himself stepped through theusher as if it weren't there.     The Butcher grimly slipped out the metal tube and put it to his lips.There were two closely spaced faint      plops     and a large green stainappeared on the bare back of one girl, while purple fluid dripped fromthe close-cropped hair of the other.     They glared at him and one of them said: A cub! But he had his armsfolded and wasn't looking at them.     Meanwhile, subordinate ushers had guided Hal and Joggy away from themain entrance to the Time Theater. A sphincter dilated and they foundthemselves in a small transparent cubicle from which they could watchthe show without disturbing the adult audience. They unstrapped theirlevitators, laid them on the floor and sat down.       The darkened auditorium was circular. Rising from a low centralplatform was a huge bubble of light, its lower surface somewhatflattened. The audience was seated in concentric rows around thebubble, their keen and compassionate faces dimly revealed by the palecentral glow.     But it was the scene within the bubble that riveted the attention ofthe boys.     Great brooding trees, the trunks of the nearer ones sliced by thebubble's surface, formed the background. Through the dark, wet foliageappeared glimpses of a murky sky, while from the ceiling of the bubble,a ceaseless rain dripped mournfully. A hooded figure crouched beside alittle fire partly shielded by a gnarled trunk. Squatting round aboutwere wiry, blue-eyed men with shoulder-length blond hair and full blondbeards. They were clothed in furs and metal-studded leather.     Here and there were scattered weapons and armor—long swords glisteningwith oil to guard them from rust, crudely painted circular shields, andhelmets from which curved the horns of beasts. Back and forth, lean,wolflike dogs paced with restless monotony.  <doc-sep>The waiter was concerned and apologetic, and took the drinks back tothe bar across the room. The bartender looked over at us and tastedone of the drinks. Then he dumped them in his sink with a puzzledexpression and made a new batch. After shaking this up, he set out arow of glasses, put ice in them and began to pour.     That is to say he tilted the shaker over the first one, but nothingcame out. He bumped it against the side of the bar and tried again.Still nothing. Then he took off the top and pried into it with hispick, his face pink with exasperation.     I had the impression that the shaker had frozen solid. Well, ice      is     acrystal, I thought to myself.     The other bartender gave him a fresh shaker, but the same thinghappened, and I saw no more because the customers sitting at the barcrowded around in front of him, offering advice. Our waiter came back,baffled, saying he'd have the drinks in a moment, and went to thekitchen. When he returned, he had madame's vichyssoise and some rolls,which he put down, and then went to the bar, where the audience hadgrown larger.     Molly lit a cigarette and said, I suppose this is all part of it,Alec. Incidentally, it seems to be getting warmer in here.     It was, and I had the feeling the place was quieter—a background noisehad stopped. It dawned on me that I no longer heard the faint hum ofthe air-conditioner over the door, and as I started to say so, I madea gesture toward it. My hand collided with Molly's when she tapped hercigarette over the ashtray, and the cigarette landed in the neighboringvichyssoise.     Hey! What's the idea? snarled the sour-looking man.     I'm terribly sorry, I said. It was an accident. I—     Throwing cigarettes at people! the fat lady said.     I really didn't mean to, I began again, getting up. There must havebeen a hole in the edge of their tablecloth which one of my cuffbuttons caught in, because as I stepped out from between the closelyset tables, I pulled everything—tablecloth, silver, water glasses,ashtrays and the vichyssoise-à-la-nicotine—onto the floor.     The fat lady surged from the banquette and slapped me meatily. The manlicked his thumb and danced as boxers are popularly supposed to do. Theowner of the place, a man with thick black eyebrows, hustled toward uswith a determined manner. I tried to explain what had happened, but Iwas outshouted, and the owner frowned darkly.  <doc-sep>Until then, I'd managed somehow to keep the day's minor disasters fromruining my mood. Even while eating that horrible egg—I couldn't verywell throw it away, broken yolk or no; it was my breakfast allotmentand I was hungry—and while hurriedly jury-rigging drapery across thatgaspingly transparent window—one hundred and fifty-three storiesstraight down to slag—I kept going over and over my prepared proposalspeeches, trying to select the most effective one.     I had a Whimsical Approach: Honey, I see there's a nice littleNon-P apartment available up on one seventy-three. And I had aRomantic Approach: Darling, I can't live without you at the moment.Temporarily, I'm madly in love with you. I want to share my lifewith you for a while. Will you be provisionally mine? I even had aStraightforward Approach: Linda, I'm going to be needing a wife for atleast a year or two, and I can't think of anyone I would rather spendthat time with than you.     Actually, though I wouldn't even have admitted this to Linda, much lessto anyone else, I loved her in more than a Non-P way. But even if weboth had been genetically desirable (neither of us were) I knew thatLinda relished her freedom and independence too much to ever contractfor any kind of marriage other than Non-P—Non-Permanent, No Progeny.     So I rehearsed my various approaches, realizing that when the timecame I would probably be so tongue-tied I'd be capable of no morethan a blurted, Will you marry me? and I struggled with zippers andmalfunctioning air-cons, and I managed somehow to leave the apartmentat five minutes to ten.     Linda lived down on the hundred fortieth floor, thirteen stories away.It never took more than two or three minutes to get to her place, so Iwas giving myself plenty of time.     But then the elevator didn't come.     I pushed the button, waited, and nothing happened. I couldn'tunderstand it.     The elevator had always arrived before, within thirty seconds ofthe button being pushed. This was a local stop, with an elevatorthat traveled between the hundred thirty-third floor and the hundredsixty-seventh floor, where it was possible to make connections foreither the next local or for the express. So it couldn't be more thantwenty stories away. And this was a non-rush hour.     I pushed the button again, and then I waited some more. I looked at mywatch and it was three minutes to ten. Two minutes, and no elevator! Ifit didn't arrive this instant, this second, I would be late.     It didn't arrive.     I vacillated, not knowing what to do next. Stay, hoping the elevatorwould come after all? Or hurry back to the apartment and call Linda, togive her advance warning that I would be late?     Ten more seconds, and still no elevator. I chose the secondalternative, raced back down the hall, and thumbed my way into myapartment. I dialed Linda's number, and the screen lit up with whiteletters on black: PRIVACY DISCONNECTION.     Of course! Linda expected me at any moment. And she knew what I wantedto say to her, so quite naturally she had disconnected the phone, tokeep us from being interrupted.     Frantic, I dashed from the apartment again, back down the hall to theelevator, and leaned on that blasted button with all my weight. Even ifthe elevator should arrive right now, I would still be almost a minutelate.     No matter. It didn't arrive.     I would have been in a howling rage anyway, but this impossibilitypiled on top of all the other annoyances and breakdowns of the daywas just too much. I went into a frenzy, and kicked the elevator doorthree times before I realized I was hurting myself more than I washurting the door. I limped back to the apartment, fuming, slammed thedoor behind me, grabbed the phone book and looked up the number ofthe Transit Staff. I dialed, prepared to register a complaint so loudthey'd be able to hear me in sub-basement three.     I got some more letters that spelled: BUSY.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the background of the story's setting?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What role does Mr. Crandon play in the plot of the story? [SEP] <s>Don stared at the scene below him. After his initial glance to confirmhis identification of Crandon, Don could not bear to look at him.     Crandon's voice suddenly hardened, became abrupt. You're partly rightabout us, of course. I hate to think how many laws this organizationhas broken. Don't condemn us yet, though. You'll be a member yourselfbefore the day is over.     Don was shocked by such confidence in his corruptibility.     What do you use? he asked bitterly. Drugs? Hypnosis?     Crandon sighed. I forgot how little you know, Don. I have a longstory to tell you. You'll find it hard to believe at first. But try totrust me. Try to believe me, as you once did. When I say that much ofwhat POSAT does is illegal, I do not mean immoral. We're probably themost moral organization in the world. Get over the idea that you havestumbled into a den of thieves.     Crandon paused as though searching for words with which to continue.     Did you notice the paintings in the waiting room as you entered?     Don nodded, too bewildered to speak.     They were donated by the founder of our Organization. They were partof his personal collection—which, incidentally, he bought from theartists themselves. He also designed the atomic reactor we use forpower here in the laboratory.     Then the pictures are modern, said Don, aware that his mouth washanging open foolishly. I thought one was a Titian—     It is, said Crandon. We have several original Titians, although Ireally don't know too much about them.     But how could a man alive      today     buy paintings from an artist of theRenaissance?     He is not alive today. POSAT is actually what our advertisementsclaim—an      ancient     secret society. Our founder has been dead for overfour centuries.     But you said that he designed your atomic reactor.     Yes. This particular one has been in use for only twenty years,however.     Don's confusion was complete. Crandon looked at him kindly. Let'sstart at the beginning, he said, and Don was back again in theclassroom with the deep voice of Professor Crandon unfolding thepages of knowledge in clear and logical manner. Four hundred yearsago, in the time of the Italian Renaissance, a man lived who was asuper-genius. His was the kind of incredible mentality that appears notin every generation, or even every century, but once in thousands ofyears.     Probably the man who invented what we call the phonetic alphabet wasone like him. That man lived seven thousand years ago in Mesopotamia,and his discovery was so original, so far from the natural courseof man's thinking, that not once in the intervening seven thousandyears has that device been rediscovered. It still exists only in thecivilizations to which it has been passed on directly.     The super-genius who was our founder was not a semanticist. He wasa physical scientist and mathematician. Starting with the meagerheritage that existed in these fields in his time, he began tacklingphysical puzzles one by one. Sitting in his study, using as hisprincipal tool his own great mind, he invented calculus, developed thequantum theory of light, moved on to electromagnetic radiation and whatwe call Maxwell's equations—although, of course, he antedated Maxwellby centuries—developed the special and general theories of relativity,the tool of wave mechanics, and finally, toward the end of his life, hemathematically derived the packing fraction that describes the bindingenergy of nuclei—     But it can't be done, Don objected. It's an observed phenomenon. Ithasn't been derived. Every conservative instinct that he possessedcried out against this impossible fantasy. And yet—there sat thereactor, sheathed in its strange shield. Crandon watched the directionof Don's glance.     Yes, the reactor, said Crandon. He built one like it. It confirmedhis theories. His calculations showed him something else too. He sawthe destructive potentialities of an atomic explosion. He himself couldnot have built an atomic bomb; he didn't have the facilities. But hisknowledge would have enabled other men to do so. He looked abouthim. He saw a political setup of warring principalities, rival states,intrigue, and squabbles over political power. Giving the men of histime atomic energy would have been like handing a baby a firecrackerwith a lighted fuse.     What should he have done? Let his secrets die with him? Hedidn't think so. No one else in his age could have      derived     theknowledge that he did. But it was an age of brilliant men. Leonardo.Michelangelo. There were men capable of      learning     his science, even asmen can learn it today. He gathered some of them together and foundedthis society. It served two purposes. It perpetuated his discoveriesand at the same time it maintained the greatest secrecy about them. Heurged that the secrets be kept until the time when men could use themsafely. The other purpose was to make that time come about as soon aspossible.     Crandon looked at Don's unbelieving face. How can I make you see thatit is the truth? Think of the eons that man or manlike creatures havewalked the Earth. Think what a small fraction of that time is fourhundred years. Is it so strange that atomic energy was discovered alittle early, by this displacement in time that is so tiny after all?     But by one man, Don argued.     Crandon shrugged. Compared with him, Don, you and I are stupid men.So are the scientists who slowly plodded down the same road he hadcome, stumbling first on one truth and then the succeeding one. We knowthat inventions and discoveries do not occur at random. Each is basedon the one that preceded it. We are all aware of the phenomenon ofsimultaneous invention. The path to truth is a straight one. It is onlyour own stupidity that makes it seem slow and tortuous.     He merely followed the straight path, Crandon finished simply.  <doc-sep>Don's incredulity thawed a little. It was not entirely beyond the realmof possibility.     But if it were true! A vast panorama of possible achievements spreadbefore him.     Four hundred years! he murmured with awe. You've had four hundredyears head-start on the rest of the world! What wonders you must haveuncovered in that time!     Our technical achievements may disappoint you, warned Crandon.Oh, they're way beyond anything that you are familiar with. You'veundoubtedly noticed the shielding material on the reactor. That's afairly recent development of our metallurgical department. There areother things in the laboratory that I can't even explain to you untilyou have caught up on the technical basis for understanding them.     Our emphasis has not been on physical sciences, however, except asthey contribute to our central project. We want to change civilizationso that it can use physical science without disaster.     For a moment Don had been fired with enthusiasm. But at these words hisheart sank.     Then you've failed, he said bitterly. In spite of centuries ofadvance warning, you've failed to change the rest of us enough toprevent us from trying to blow ourselves off the Earth. Here we are,still snarling and snapping at our neighbors' throats—and we've caughtup with you. We have the atomic bomb. What's POSAT been doing all thattime? Or have you found that human nature really can't be changed?     Come with me, said Crandon.     He led the way along the narrow balcony to another door, then down asteep flight of stairs. He opened a door at the bottom, and Don sawwhat must have been the world's largest computing machine.     This is our answer, said Crandon. Oh, rather, it's the tool by whichwe find our answer. For two centuries we have been working on thenewest of the sciences—that of human motivation. Soon we will be readyto put some of our new knowledge to work. But you are right in onerespect, we are working now against time. We must hurry if we are tosave our civilization. That's why you are here. We have work for you todo. Will you join us, Don?     But why the hocus-pocus? asked Don. Why do you hide behind such aweird front as POSAT? Why do you advertise in magazines and invite justanyone to join? Why didn't you approach me directly, if you have workfor me to do? And if you really have the answers to our problems, whyhaven't you gathered together all the scientists in the world to workon this project—before it's too late?     Crandon took a sighing breath. How I wish that we could do just that!But you forget that one of the prime purposes of our organization isto maintain the secrecy of our discoveries until they can be safelydisclosed. We must be absolutely certain that anyone who enters thisbuilding will have joined POSAT before he leaves. What if we approachedthe wrong scientist? Centuries of accomplishment might be wasted ifthey attempted either to reveal it or to exploit it!     Do you recall the questionnaires that you answered before you wereinvited here? We fed the answers to this machine and, as a result, weknow more about how you will react in any given situation than you doyourself. Even if you should fail to join us, our secrets would besafe with you. Of course, we miss a few of the scientists who mightbe perfect material for our organization. You'd be surprised, though,at how clever our advertisements are at attracting exactly the men wewant. With the help of our new science, we have baited our ads well,and we know how to maintain interest. Curiosity is, to the men we want,a powerful motivator.     But what about the others? asked Don. There must be hundreds ofapplicants who would be of no use to you at all.     Oh, yes, replied Crandon. There are the mild religious fanatics. Weenroll them as members and keep them interested by sending pamphlets inline with their interests. We even let them contribute to our upkeep,if they seem to want to. They never get beyond the reception room ifthey come to call on us. But they are additional people through whom wecan act when the time finally comes.     There are also the desperate people who try POSAT as a lastresort—lost ones who can't find their direction in life. For them weput into practice some of our newly won knowledge. We rehabilitatethem—anonymously, of course. Even find jobs or patch up homes. It'sgood practice for us.     I think I've answered most of your questions, Don. But you haven'tanswered mine. Will you join us?     Don looked solemnly at the orderly array of the computer before him.He had one more question.     Will it really work? Can it actually tell you how to motivate thestubborn, quarrelsome, opinionated people one finds on this Earth?     Crandon smiled. You're here, aren't you?     Don nodded, his tense features relaxing.     Enroll me as a member, he said.   <doc-sep>Most of the cousins gasped as the truth began to percolate through.     I knew from the very beginning, Conrad finished, that I didn'thave to do anything at all. I just had to wait and you would destroyyourselves.     I don't understand, Bartholomew protested, searching the faces of thecousins closest to him. What does he mean, we have never existed?We're here, aren't we? What—     Shut up! Raymond snapped. He turned on Martin. You don't seemsurprised.     The old man grinned. I'm not. I figured it all out years ago.     At first, he had wondered what he should do. Would it be better tothrow them into a futile panic by telling them or to do nothing? Hehad decided on the latter; that was the role they had assigned him—towatch and wait and keep out of things—and that was the role he wouldplay.     You knew all the time and you didn't tell us! Raymond spluttered.After we'd been so good to you, making a gentleman out of you insteadof a criminal.... That's right, he snarled, a criminal! An alcoholic,a thief, a derelict! How do you like that?     Sounds like a rich, full life, Martin said wistfully.     What an exciting existence they must have done him out of! But then, hecouldn't help thinking, he—he and Conrad together, of course—had donethem out of      any     kind of existence. It wasn't his responsibility,though; he had done nothing but let matters take whatever course wasdestined for them. If only he could be sure that it was the bettercourse, perhaps he wouldn't feel that nagging sense of guilt insidehim. Strange—where, in his hermetic life, could he possibly havedeveloped such a queer thing as a conscience?     Then we've wasted all this time, Ninian sobbed, all this energy, allthis money, for nothing!     But you were nothing to begin with, Martin told them. And then,after a pause, he added, I only wish I could be sure there had beensome purpose to this.     He didn't know whether it was approaching death that dimmed his sight,or whether the frightened crowd that pressed around him was growingshadowy.     I wish I could feel that some good had been done in letting you bewiped out of existence, he went on voicing his thoughts. But I knowthat the same thing that happened to your worlds and my world willhappen all over again. To other people, in other times, but again. It'sbound to happen. There isn't any hope for humanity.     One man couldn't really change the course of human history, he toldhimself. Two men, that was—one real, one a shadow.     Conrad came close to the old man's bed. He was almost transparent.     No, he said, there is hope. They didn't know the time transmitterworks two ways. I used it for going into the past only once—just thisonce. But I've gone into the future with it many times. And— hepressed Martin's hand—believe me, what I did—what      we     did, you andI—serves a purpose. It will change things for the better. Everythingis going to be all right.  <doc-sep>Joe was still dazed by that monetary vista when he and Harvey carriedthe case of medicine to the saloon. The mayor had already cleared aplace of honor in the cluttered back room, where he told them to put itdown carefully. Then he took the elaborate bottle-opener Harvey gavehim, reverently uncorked a bottle and sampled it. It must have been atleast as good as the first; he gagged.     That's the stuff, all right, he said, swallowing hard. He countedout the money into Harvey's hand, at a moderate rate that precariouslybalanced between his pleasure at getting the fever remedy and his painat paying for it. Then he glanced out to see the position of Jupiter,and asked: You gents eaten yet? The restaurant's open now.     Harvey and Joe looked at each other. They hadn't been thinking aboutfood at all, but suddenly they realized that they were hungry.     It's only water we were short of, Harvey said apprehensively. We'vegot rations back at the ship.           H-mph!      the mayor grunted. Powdered concentrates. Compressed pap.Suit yourselves. We treat our stomachs better here. And you're welcometo our hospitality.     Your hospitality, said Harvey, depends on the prices you charge.     Well, if that's what's worrying you, you can stop worrying, answeredthe mayor promptly. What's more, the kind of dinner I serve here youcan't get anywhere else for any price.     Swiftly, Harvey conned the possibilities of being bilked again. He sawnone.     Let's take a look at the menu, anyhow, Joe, he said guardedly.     Johnson immediately fell into the role of mine host.     Come right in, gents, he invited. Right into the dining room.     He seated them at a table, which a rope tied between posts made more orless private, though nobody else was in the saloon and there was littlechance of company.     Genius, the six-armed native, appeared from the dingy kitchen withtwo menus in one hand, two glasses of water in another, plus napkins,silverware, a pitcher, plates, saucers, cups, and their cocktails,which were on the house. Then he stood by for orders.     Harvey and Joe studied the menu critically. The prices werephenomenally low. When they glanced up at Johnson in perplexity, hegrinned, bowed and asked: Everything satisfactory, gents?     Quite, said Harvey. We shall order.     For an hour they were served amazing dishes, both fresh and canned, theculinary wealth of this planetoid and all the system. And the servicewas as extraordinary as the meal itself. With four hands, Genius playeddeftly upon a pair of mellow Venusian      viotars     , using his other twohands for waiting on the table.     We absolutely must purchase this incredible specimen, Harveywhispered excitedly when Johnson and the native were both in thekitchen, attending to the next course. He would make any societyhostess's season a riotous success, which should be worth a great sumto women like Mrs. van Schuyler-Morgan, merely for his hire.     Think of a fast one fast, Joe agreed. You're right.     But I dislike having to revise my opinion of a man so often,complained Harvey. I wish Johnson would stay either swindler or honestmerchant. This dinner is worth as least twenty buckos, yet I estimateour check at a mere bucko twenty redsents.     The mayor's appearance prevented them from continuing the discussion.     It's been a great honor, gents, he said. Ain't often I havevisitors, and I like the best, like you two gents.     As if on cue, Genius came out and put the check down between Joe andHarvey. Harvey picked it up negligently, but his casual air vanished ina yelp of horror.     What the devil is this? he shouted.—How do you arrive at thisfantastic, idiotic figure—      three hundred and twenty-eight buckos     !  <doc-sep>The Military Attache pulled at his lower lip. In that case, we can'ttry conclusions with these fellows until we have an indetectible driveof our own. I recommend a crash project. In the meantime—     I'll have my boys start in to crack this thing, the Chief of theConfidential Terrestrial Source Section spoke up. I'll fit out acouple of volunteers with plastic beaks—     No cloak and dagger work, gentlemen! Long range policy will beworked out by Deep-Think teams back at the Department. Our role willbe a holding action. Now I want suggestions for a comprehensive,well rounded and decisive course for meeting this threat. Anyrecommendation?     The Political Officer placed his fingertips together. What about astiff Note demanding an extra week's time?     No! No begging, the Economic Officer objected. I'd say a calm,dignified, aggressive withdrawal—as soon as possible.     We don't want to give them the idea we spook easily, the MilitaryAttache said. Let's delay the withdrawal—say, until tomorrow.     Early tomorrow, Magnan said. Or maybe later today.     Well, I see you're of a mind with me, Nitworth nodded. Our plan ofaction is clear, but it remains to be implemented. We have a populationof over fifteen million individuals to relocate. He eyed thePolitical Officer. I want five proposals for resettlement on my deskby oh-eight-hundred hours tomorrow. Nitworth rapped out instructions.Harried-looking staff members arose and hurried from the room. Magnaneased toward the door.     Where are you going, Magnan? Nitworth snapped.     Since you're so busy, I thought I'd just slip back down to Com Inq. Itwas a most interesting orientation lecture, Mr. Ambassador. Be sure tolet us know how it works out.     Kindly return to your chair, Nitworth said coldly. A number ofchores remain to be assigned. I think you, Magnan, need a little fieldexperience. I want you to get over to Roolit I and take a look at theseQornt personally.     Magnan's mouth opened and closed soundlessly.     Not afraid of a few Qornt, are you, Magnan?     Afraid? Good lord, no, ha ha. It's just that I'm afraid I may lose myhead and do something rash if I go.     Nonsense! A diplomat is immune to heroic impulses. Take Retief along.No dawdling, now! I want you on the way in two hours. Notify thetransport pool at once. Now get going!     Magnan nodded unhappily and went into the hall.     Oh, Retief, Nitworth said. Retief turned.     Try to restrain Mr. Magnan from any impulsive moves—in anydirection.      II     Retief and Magnan topped a ridge and looked down across a slopeof towering tree-shrubs and glossy violet-stemmed palms set amongflamboyant blossoms of yellow and red, reaching down to a strip ofwhite beach with the blue sea beyond.     A delightful vista, Magnan said, mopping at his face. A pity wecouldn't locate the Qornt. We'll go back now and report—     I'm pretty sure the settlement is off to the right, Retief said. Whydon't you head back for the boat, while I ease over and see what I canobserve.     Retief, we're engaged in a serious mission. This is not a time tothink of sightseeing.     I'd like to take a good look at what we're giving away.     See here, Retief! One might almost receive the impression that you'requestioning Corps policy!     One might, at that. The Qornt have made their play, but I think itmight be valuable to take a look at their cards before we fold. If I'mnot back at the boat in an hour, lift without me.     You expect me to make my way back alone?     It's directly down-slope— Retief broke off, listening. Magnanclutched at his arm.     There was a sound of crackling foliage. Twenty feet ahead, a leafybranch swung aside. An eight-foot biped stepped into view, long, thin,green-clad legs with back-bending knees moving in quick, bird-likesteps. A pair of immense black-lensed goggles covered staring eyes setamong bushy green hair above a great bone-white beak. The crest bobbedas the creature cocked its head, listening.     Magnan gulped audibly. The Qornt froze, head tilted, beak aimeddirectly at the spot where the Terrestrials stood in the deep shade ofa giant trunk.     I'll go for help, Magnan squeaked. He whirled and took three leapsinto the brush.     A second great green-clad figure rose up to block his way. He spun,darted to the left. The first Qornt pounced, grappled Magnan to itsnarrow chest. Magnan yelled, threshing and kicking, broke free,turned—and collided with the eight-foot alien, coming in fast from theright. All three went down in a tangle of limbs.     Retief jumped forward, hauled Magnan free, thrust him aside andstopped, right fist cocked. The two Qornt lay groaning feebly.     Nice piece of work, Mr. Magnan, Retief said. You nailed both ofthem.  <doc-sep>Commander Eagan said, You'd better find some new way of amusingyourself, Jones. Have you read General Order 17?     Isobar said, I seen it. But if you think—     It says, stated Eagan deliberately, '      In order that work or restperiods of the Dome's staff may not be disturbed, it is hereby orderedthat the playing or practicing of all or any musical instruments mustbe discontinued immediately. By order of the Dome Commander     ,' Thatmeans you, Jones!     But, dingbust it! keened Isobar, it don't disturb nobody for me toplay my bagpipes! I know these lunks around here don't appreciate goodmusic, so I always go in my office and lock the door after me—     But the Dome, pointed out Commander Eagan, has an air-conditioningsystem which can't be shut off. The ungodly moans ofyour—er—so-called musical instrument can be heard through the entirestructure.     He suddenly seemed to gain stature.     No, Jones, this order is final! You cannot disrupt our entireorganization for your own—er—amusement.     But— said Isobar.     No!     Isobar wriggled desperately. Life on Luna was sorry enough already.If now they took from him the last remaining solace he had, the lastamusement which lightened his moments of freedom—     Look, Commander! he pleaded, I tell you what I'll do. I won't bothernobody. I'll go Outside and play it—     Outside! Eagan stared at him incredulously. Are you mad? How aboutthe Grannies?     Isobar knew all about the Grannies. The only mobile form of lifefound by space-questing man on Earth's satellite, their name was anabbreviation of the descriptive one applied to them by the first Lunarexployers: Granitebacks. This was no exaggeration; if anything, it wasan understatement. For the Grannies, though possessed of certain lowintelligence, had quickly proven themselves a deadly, unyielding andimplacable foe.     Worse yet, they were an enemy almost indestructible! No man had everyet brought to Earth laboratories the carcass of a Grannie; sciencewas completely baffled in its endeavors to explain the composition ofGraniteback physiology—but it was known, from bitter experience, thatthe carapace or exoskeleton of the Grannies was formed of somethingharder than steel, diamond, or battleplate! This flesh could bepenetrated by no weapon known to man; neither by steel nor flame,by electronic nor ionic wave, nor by the lethal, newly discoveredatomo-needle dispenser.     All this Isobar knew about the Grannies. Yet:     They ain't been any Grannies seen around the Dome, he said, fora 'coon's age. Anyhow, if I seen any comin', I could run right backinside—     No! said Commander Eagan flatly. Absolutely,      no     ! I have no timefor such nonsense. You know the orders—obey them! And now, gentlemen,good afternoon!     He left. Sparks turned to Isobar, grinning.     Well, he said, one man's fish—hey, Jonesy? Too bad you can't playyour doodlesack any more, but frankly, I'm just as glad. Of all theawful screeching wails—     But Isobar Jones, generally mild and gentle, was now in a perfectfury. His pale eyes blazed, he stomped his foot on the floor, and fromhis lips poured a stream of such angry invective that Riley lookedstartled. Words that, to Isobar, were the utter dregs of violentprofanity.     Oh, dagnab it! fumed Isobar Jones. Oh, tarnation and dingbust!Oh—      fiddlesticks     !      II     And so, chuckled Riley, he left, bubbling like a kettle on a red-hotoven. But, boy! was he ever mad! Just about ready to bust, he was.     Some minutes had passed since Isobar had left; Riley was talking to Dr.Loesch, head of the Dome's Physics Research Division. The older mannodded commiseratingly.     It is funny, yes, he agreed, but at the same time it is notaltogether amusing. I feel sorry for him. He is a very unhappy man, ourpoor Isobar.     Yeah, I know, said Riley, but, hell, we all get a little bithomesick now and then. He ought to learn to—     Excuse me, my boy, interrupted the aged physicist, his voice gentle,it is not mere homesickness that troubles our friend. It is somethingdeeper, much more vital and serious. It is what my people call:      weltschmertz     . There is no accurate translation in English. It means'world sickness,' or better, 'world weariness'—something like that butintensified a thousandfold.     It is a deeply-rooted mental condition, sometimes a dangerous frameof mind. Under its grip, men do wild things. Hating the world on whichthey find themselves, they rebel in curious ways. Suicide ... mad actsof valor ... deeds of cunning or knavery....     You mean, demanded Sparks anxiously, Isobar ain't got all hisbuttons?     Not that exactly. He is perfectly sane. But he is in a dark morassof despair. He may try      anything     to retrieve his lost happiness, ridhis soul of its dark oppression. His world-sickness is like a cryinghunger—By the way, where is he now?     Below, I guess. In his quarters.     Ah, good! Perhaps he is sleeping. Let us hope so. In slumber he willfind peace and forgetfulness.     But Dr. Loesch would have been far less sanguine had some power thegiftie gi'en him of watching Isobar Jones at that moment.     Isobar was not asleep. Far from it. Wide awake and very much astir, hewas acting in a singularly sinister role: that of a slinking, furtiveculprit.     Returning to his private cubicle after his conversation with DomeCommander Eagan, he had stalked straightway to the cabinet wherein wasencased his precious set of bagpipes. These he had taken from theirpegs, gazed upon defiantly, and fondled with almost parental affection.     So I can't play you, huh? he muttered darkly. It disturbs the peaceo' the dingfounded, dumblasted Dome staff, does it? Well, we'll      see     about that!     And tucking the bag under his arm, he had cautiously slipped from theroom, down little-used corridors, and now he stood before the huge      impervite     gates which were the entrance to the Dome and the doorwayto Outside.     On all save those occasions when a spacecraft landed in the cradleadjacent the gateway, these portals were doubly locked and barred. Buttoday they had been unbolted that the two maintenance men might ventureout. And since it was quite possible that Brown and Roberts might haveto get inside in a hurry, their bolts remained drawn. Sole guardian ofthe entrance was a very bored Junior Patrolman.     Up to this worthy strode Isobar Jones, confident and assured, exudingan aura of propriety.     Very well, Wilkins, he said. I'll take over now. You may go to themeeting.     Wilkins looked at him bewilderedly.     Huh? Whuzzat, Mr. Jones?     Isobar's eyebrows arched.     You mean you haven't been notified?     Notified of      what     ?     Why, the general council of all Patrolmen! Weren't you told that Iwould take your place here while you reported to G.H.Q.?     I ain't, puzzled Wilkins, heard nothing about it. Maybe I ought tocall the office, maybe?     And he moved the wall-audio. But Isobar said swiftly. That—er—won'tbe necessary, Wilkins. My orders were plain enough. Now, you just runalong. I'll watch this entrance for you.     We-e-ell, said Wilkins, if you say so. Orders is orders. But keep asharp eye out, Mister Jones, in case Roberts and Brown should come backsudden-like.     I will, promised Isobar, don't worry.  <doc-sep>  There was a knock.     Betty bounced up with Olympicagility and had the door swingingwide before the knocking was quitecompleted.     He was old, little and had bugeyes behind pince-nez glasses. Hissuit was cut in the style of yesteryearbut when a suit costs two orthree hundred dollars you still retaincaste whatever the styling.     Simon said unenthusiastically,Good morning, Mr. Oyster. He indicatedthe client's chair. Sit down,sir.     The client fussed himself withBetty's assistance into the seat, bug-eyedSimon, said finally, You knowmy name, that's pretty good. Neversaw you before in my life. Stop fussingwith me, young lady. Your adin the phone book says you'll investigateanything.     Anything, Simon said. Onlyone exception.     Excellent. Do you believe in timetravel?     Simon said nothing. Across theroom, where she had resumed herseat, Betty cleared her throat. WhenSimon continued to say nothing sheventured, Time travel is impossible.     Why?     Why?     Yes, why?     Betty looked to her boss for assistance.None was forthcoming. Thereought to be some very quick, positive,definite answer. She said, Well,for one thing, paradox. Suppose youhad a time machine and traveled backa hundred years or so and killed yourown great-grandfather. Then howcould you ever be born?     Confound it if I know, the littlefellow growled. How?     Simon said, Let's get to the point,what you wanted to see me about.     I want to hire you to hunt me upsome time travelers, the old boysaid.     Betty was too far in now to maintainher proper role of silent secretary.Time travelers, she said, notvery intelligently.     The potential client sat more erect,obviously with intent to hold thefloor for a time. He removed thepince-nez glasses and pointed themat Betty. He said, Have you readmuch science fiction, Miss?     Some, Betty admitted.     Then you'll realize that there area dozen explanations of the paradoxesof time travel. Every writer inthe field worth his salt has explainedthem away. But to get on. It's mycontention that within a century orso man will have solved the problemsof immortality and eternal youth, andit's also my suspicion that he willeventually be able to travel in time.So convinced am I of these possibilitiesthat I am willing to gamble aportion of my fortune to investigatethe presence in our era of such timetravelers.     Simon seemed incapable of carryingthe ball this morning, so Bettysaid, But ... Mr. Oyster, if thefuture has developed time travel whydon't we ever meet such travelers?     Simon put in a word. The usualexplanation, Betty, is that they can'tafford to allow the space-time continuumtrack to be altered. If, say, atime traveler returned to a period oftwenty-five years ago and shot Hitler,then all subsequent history would bechanged. In that case, the time travelerhimself might never be born. Theyhave to tread mighty carefully.     Mr. Oyster was pleased. I didn'texpect you to be so well informedon the subject, young man.     Simon shrugged and fumbledagain with the aspirin bottle. <doc-sep>She had finished. And now Cyril cleared his throat. Dear friends, wewere honored by your gracious invitation to visit this fair planet, andwe are honored now by the cordial reception you have given to us.     The crowd yoomped politely. After a slight start, Cyril went on,apparently deciding that applause was all that had been intended.     We feel quite sure that we are going to derive both pleasure andprofit from our stay here, and we promise to make our intensiveanalysis of your culture as painless as possible. We wish only to studyyour society, not to tamper with it in any way.       Ha, ha     , Skkiru said to himself.      Ha, ha, ha!       But why is it, Raoul whispered in Terran as he glanced around out ofthe corners of his eyes, that only the beggar wears mudshoes?     Shhh, Cyril hissed back. We'll find out later, when we'veestablished rapport. Don't be so impatient!     Bbulas gave a sickly smile. Skkiru could almost find it in his heartsto feel sorry for the man.     We have prepared our best hut for you, noble sirs, Bbulas said withgreat self-control, and, by happy chance, this very evening a smallbut unusually interesting ceremony will be held outside the temple. Wehope you will be able to attend. It is to be a rain dance.     Rain dance! Raoul pulled his macintosh together more tightly at thethroat. But why do you want rain? My faith, not only does it rain now,but the planet seems to be a veritable sea of mud. Not, of course, headded hurriedly as Cyril's reproachful eye caught his, that it is notattractive mud. Finest mud I have ever seen. Such texture, such color,such aroma!     Cyril nodded three times and gave an appreciative sniff.     But, Raoul went on, one can have too much of even such a good thingas mud....     The smile did not leave Bbulas' smooth face. Yes, of course, honorableTerrestrials. That is why we are holding this ceremony. It is not adance to bring on rain. It is a dance to      stop     rain.     He was pretty quick on the uptake, Skkiru had to concede. However,that was not enough. The man had no genuine organizational ability.In the time he'd had in which to plan and carry out a scheme forthe improvement of Snaddra, surely he could have done better thanthis high-school theocracy. For one thing, he could have apportionedthe various roles so that each person would be making a definitecontribution to the society, instead of creating some positions plums,like the priesthood, and others prunes, like the beggarship.     What kind of life was that for an active, ambitious young man, standingaround begging? And, moreover, from whom was Skkiru going to beg?Only the Earthmen, for the Snaddrath, no matter how much they threwthemselves into the spirit of their roles, could not be so carriedaway that they would give handouts to a young man whom they had beenaccustomed to see basking in the bosom of luxury.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What role does Mr. Crandon play in the plot of the story?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"""What is the background of POSAT?"" [SEP] <s>   What is POSAT?     By PHYLLIS STERLING SMITH     Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Of course coming events cast their shadows     before, but this shadow was 400 years long!      The following advertisement appeared in the July 1953 issue of severalmagazines:     MASTERY OF ALL KNOWLEDGE CAN BE YOURS!     What is the secret source of those profound     principles that can solve the problems of life?     Send for our FREE booklet of explanation.     Do not be a leaf in the wind! YOU     can alter the course of your life!     Tap the treasury of Wisdom through the ages!     The Perpetual Order of Seekers After Truth     POSAT     an ancient secret society     Most readers passed it by with scarcely a glance. It was, after all,similar to the many that had appeared through the years under thename of that same society. Other readers, as their eyes slid over thefamiliar format of the ad, speculated idly about the persistent andmildly mysterious organization behind it. A few even resolved to clipthe attached coupon and send for the booklet—sometime—when a pen orpencil was nearer at hand.     Bill Evans, an unemployed pharmacist, saw the ad in a copy of      YourLife and Psychology     that had been abandoned on his seat in the bus.He filled out the blanks on the coupon with a scrap of stubby pencil.You can alter the course of your life! he read again. He particularlyliked that thought, even though he had long since ceased to believeit. He actually took the trouble to mail the coupon. After all, hehad, literally, nothing to lose, and nothing else to occupy his time.     Miss Elizabeth Arnable was one of the few to whom the advertisementwas unfamiliar. As a matter of fact, she very seldom read a magazine.The radio in her room took the place of reading matter, and she alwaysliked to think that it amused her cats as well as herself. Readingwould be so selfish under the circumstances, wouldn't it? Not but whatthe cats weren't almost smart enough to read, she always said.     It just so happened, however, that she had bought a copy of the      Antivivisectionist Gazette     the day before. She pounced upon the POSATad as a trout might snap at a particularly attractive fly. Havingfilled out the coupon with violet ink, she invented an errand thatwould take her past the neighborhood post office so that she could postit as soon as possible.     Donald Alford, research physicist, came across the POSAT ad tucked atthe bottom of a column in      The Bulletin of Physical Research     . He wasengrossed in the latest paper by Dr. Crandon, a man whom he admiredfrom the point of view of both a former student and a fellow researchworker. Consequently, he was one of the many who passed over the POSATad with the disregard accorded to any common object.     He read with interest to the end of the article before he realized thatsome component of the advertisement had been noted by a region of hisbrain just beyond consciousness. It teased at him like a tickle thatcouldn't be scratched until he turned back to the page.     It was the symbol or emblem of POSAT, he realized, that had caught hisattention. The perpendicularly crossed ellipses centered with a smallblack circle might almost be a conventionalized version of the Bohratom of helium. He smiled with mild skepticism as he read through theprinted matter that accompanied it.     I wonder what their racket is, he mused. Then, because his typewriterwas conveniently at hand, he carefully tore out the coupon and insertedit in the machine. The spacing of the typewriter didn't fit the dottedlines on the coupon, of course, but he didn't bother to correct it.He addressed an envelope, laid it with other mail to be posted, andpromptly forgot all about it. Since he was a methodical man, it wasentrusted to the U.S. mail early the next morning, together with hisother letters.     Three identical forms accompanied the booklet which POSAT sent inresponse to the three inquiries. The booklet gave no more informationthan had the original advertisement, but with considerable morevolubility. It promised the recipient the secrets of the Cosmos and thekey that would unlock the hidden knowledge within himself—if he wouldmerely fill out the enclosed form.     Bill Evans, the unemployed pharmacist, let the paper lie unanswered forseveral days. To be quite honest, he was disappointed. Although he hadmentally disclaimed all belief in anything that POSAT might offer, hehad watched the return mails with anticipation. His own resources werealmost at an end, and he had reached the point where intervention bysomething supernatural, or at least superhuman, seemed the only hope.     He had hoped, unreasonably, that POSAT had an answer. But time layheavily upon him, and he used it one evening to write the requestedinformation—about his employment (ha!), his religious beliefs, hisreason for inquiring about POSAT, his financial situation. Withoutquite knowing that he did so, he communicated in his terse answers someof his desperation and sense of futility.     Miss Arnable was delighted with the opportunity for autobiographicalcomposition. It required five extra sheets of paper to convey all theinformation that she wished to give—all about her poor, dear fatherwho had been a missionary to China, and the kinship that she felttoward the mystic cults of the East, her belief that her cats werereincarnations of her loved ones (which, she stated, derived from areligion of the Persians; or was it the Egyptians?) and in her completeand absolute acceptance of everything that POSAT had stated in theirbooklet. And what would the dues be? She wished to join immediately.Fortunately, dear father had left her in a comfortable financialsituation.     To Donald Alford, the booklet seemed to confirm his suspicion thatPOSAT was a racket of some sort. Why else would they be interested inhis employment or financial position? It also served to increase hiscuriosity.     What do you suppose they're driving at? he asked his wife Betty,handing her the booklet and questionnaire.     I don't really know what to say, she answered, squinting a little asshe usually did when puzzled. I know one thing, though, and that'sthat you won't stop until you find out!     The scientific attitude, he acknowledged with a grin.     Why don't you fill out this questionnaire incognito, though? shesuggested. Pretend that we're wealthy and see if they try to get ourmoney. Do they have anything yet except your name and address?     Don was shocked. If I send this back to them, it will have to be withcorrect answers!     The scientific attitude again, Betty sighed. Don't you ever let yourimagination run away with the facts a bit? What are you going to givefor your reasons for asking about POSAT?     Curiosity, he replied, and, pulling his fountain pen from his vestpocket, he wrote exactly that, in small, neat script.     It was unfortunate for his curiosity that Don could not see thecontents of the three envelopes that were mailed from the offices ofPOSAT the following week. For this time they differed.     Bill Evans was once again disappointed. The pamphlet that was enclosedgave what apparently meant to be final answers to life's problems. Theywere couched in vaguely metaphysical terms and offered absolutely nohelp to him.     His disappointment was tempered, however, by the knowledge that hehad unexpectedly found a job. Or, rather, it had fallen into his lap.When he had thought that every avenue of employment had been tried, aposition had been offered him in a wholesale pharmacy in the olderindustrial part of the city. It was not a particularly attractive placeto work, located as it was next to a large warehouse, but to him it washope for the future.     It amused him to discover that the offices of POSAT were located on theother side of the same warehouse, at the end of a blind alley. Blindalley indeed! He felt vaguely ashamed for having placed any confidencein them.     Miss Arnable was thrilled to discover that her envelope contained notonly several pamphlets, (she scanned the titles rapidly and found thatone of them concerned the sacred cats of ancient Egypt), but that itcontained also a small pin with the symbol of POSAT wrought in gold andblack enamel. The covering letter said that she had been accepted as anactive member of POSAT and that the dues were five dollars per month;please remit by return mail. She wrote a check immediately, and settledcontentedly into a chair to peruse the article on sacred cats.     After a while she began to read aloud so that her own cats could enjoyit, too.     Don Alford would not have been surprised if his envelope had showncontents similar to the ones that the others received. The foldedsheets of paper that he pulled forth, however, made him stiffen withsharp surprise.       Come here a minute, Betty, he called, spreading them out carefully onthe dining room table. What do you make of these?     She came, dish cloth in hand, and thoughtfully examined them, one byone. Multiple choice questions! It looks like a psychological test ofsome sort.     This isn't the kind of thing I expected them to send me, worriedDon. Look at the type of thing they ask. 'If you had discovereda new and virulent poison that could be compounded from commonhousehold ingredients, would you (1) publish the information in adaily newspaper, (2) manufacture it secretly and sell it as rodentexterminator, (3) give the information to the armed forces for useas a secret weapon, or (4) withhold the information entirely as toodangerous to be passed on?'     Could they be a spy ring? asked Betty. Subversive agents? Anxious tofind out your scientific secrets like that classified stuff that you'reso careful of when you bring it home from the lab?     Don scanned the papers quickly. There's nothing here that looks likean attempt to get information. Besides, I've told them nothing aboutmy work except that I do research in physics. They don't even knowwhat company I work for. If this is a psychological test, it measuresattitudes, nothing else. Why should they want to know my attitudes?     Do you suppose that POSAT is really what it claims to be—a secretsociety—and that they actually screen their applicants?     He smiled wryly. Wouldn't it be interesting if I didn't make the gradeafter starting out to expose their racket?     He pulled out his pen and sat down to the task of resolving thedilemmas before him.     His next communication from POSAT came to his business address and,paradoxically, was more personal than its forerunners.     Dear Doctor Alford:     We have examined with interest the information that you have sent tous. We are happy to inform you that, thus far, you have satisfied therequirements for membership in the Perpetual Order of Seekers AfterTruth. Before accepting new members into this ancient and honorablesecret society, we find it desirable that they have a personalinterview with the Grand Chairman of POSAT.     Accordingly, you are cordially invited to an audience with our GrandChairman on Tuesday, July 10, at 2:30 P.M. Please let us know if thisarrangement is acceptable to you. If not, we will attempt to makeanother appointment for you.     The time specified for the appointment was hardly a convenient onefor Don. At 2:30 P.M. on most Tuesdays, he would be at work in thelaboratory. And while his employers made no complaint if he took hisresearch problems home with him and worried over them half the night,they were not equally enthusiastic when he used working hours forpursuing unrelated interests. Moreover, the headquarters of POSAT wasin a town almost a hundred miles distant. Could he afford to take awhole day off for chasing will-o-wisps?     It hardly seemed worth the trouble. He wondered if Betty would bedisappointed if he dropped the whole matter. Since the letter had beensent to the laboratory instead of his home, he couldn't consult herabout it without telephoning.       Since the letter had been sent to the laboratory instead of his home!     But it was impossible!     He searched feverishly through his pile of daily mail for theenvelope in which the letter had come. The address stared up at him,unmistakably and fearfully legible. The name of his company. The numberof the room he worked in. In short, the address that he had never giventhem!     Get hold of yourself, he commanded his frightened mind. There's someperfectly logical, easy explanation for this. They looked it up in thedirectory of the Institute of Physics. Or in the alumni directory ofthe university. Or—or—     But the more he thought about it, the more sinister it seemed. Hislaboratory address was available, but why should POSAT take the troubleof looking it up? Some prudent impulse had led him to withhold thatparticular bit of information, yet now, for some reason of their own,POSAT had unearthed the information.     His wife's words echoed in his mind, Could they be a spy ring?Subversive agents?     Don shook his head as though to clear away the confusion. Hisconservative habit of thought made him reject that explanation as toomelodramatic.     At least one decision was easier to reach because of his doubts. Now heknew he had to keep his appointment with the Grand Chairman of POSAT.     He scribbled a memo to the department office stating that he would notbe at work on Tuesday.  <doc-sep>Don's incredulity thawed a little. It was not entirely beyond the realmof possibility.     But if it were true! A vast panorama of possible achievements spreadbefore him.     Four hundred years! he murmured with awe. You've had four hundredyears head-start on the rest of the world! What wonders you must haveuncovered in that time!     Our technical achievements may disappoint you, warned Crandon.Oh, they're way beyond anything that you are familiar with. You'veundoubtedly noticed the shielding material on the reactor. That's afairly recent development of our metallurgical department. There areother things in the laboratory that I can't even explain to you untilyou have caught up on the technical basis for understanding them.     Our emphasis has not been on physical sciences, however, except asthey contribute to our central project. We want to change civilizationso that it can use physical science without disaster.     For a moment Don had been fired with enthusiasm. But at these words hisheart sank.     Then you've failed, he said bitterly. In spite of centuries ofadvance warning, you've failed to change the rest of us enough toprevent us from trying to blow ourselves off the Earth. Here we are,still snarling and snapping at our neighbors' throats—and we've caughtup with you. We have the atomic bomb. What's POSAT been doing all thattime? Or have you found that human nature really can't be changed?     Come with me, said Crandon.     He led the way along the narrow balcony to another door, then down asteep flight of stairs. He opened a door at the bottom, and Don sawwhat must have been the world's largest computing machine.     This is our answer, said Crandon. Oh, rather, it's the tool by whichwe find our answer. For two centuries we have been working on thenewest of the sciences—that of human motivation. Soon we will be readyto put some of our new knowledge to work. But you are right in onerespect, we are working now against time. We must hurry if we are tosave our civilization. That's why you are here. We have work for you todo. Will you join us, Don?     But why the hocus-pocus? asked Don. Why do you hide behind such aweird front as POSAT? Why do you advertise in magazines and invite justanyone to join? Why didn't you approach me directly, if you have workfor me to do? And if you really have the answers to our problems, whyhaven't you gathered together all the scientists in the world to workon this project—before it's too late?     Crandon took a sighing breath. How I wish that we could do just that!But you forget that one of the prime purposes of our organization isto maintain the secrecy of our discoveries until they can be safelydisclosed. We must be absolutely certain that anyone who enters thisbuilding will have joined POSAT before he leaves. What if we approachedthe wrong scientist? Centuries of accomplishment might be wasted ifthey attempted either to reveal it or to exploit it!     Do you recall the questionnaires that you answered before you wereinvited here? We fed the answers to this machine and, as a result, weknow more about how you will react in any given situation than you doyourself. Even if you should fail to join us, our secrets would besafe with you. Of course, we miss a few of the scientists who mightbe perfect material for our organization. You'd be surprised, though,at how clever our advertisements are at attracting exactly the men wewant. With the help of our new science, we have baited our ads well,and we know how to maintain interest. Curiosity is, to the men we want,a powerful motivator.     But what about the others? asked Don. There must be hundreds ofapplicants who would be of no use to you at all.     Oh, yes, replied Crandon. There are the mild religious fanatics. Weenroll them as members and keep them interested by sending pamphlets inline with their interests. We even let them contribute to our upkeep,if they seem to want to. They never get beyond the reception room ifthey come to call on us. But they are additional people through whom wecan act when the time finally comes.     There are also the desperate people who try POSAT as a lastresort—lost ones who can't find their direction in life. For them weput into practice some of our newly won knowledge. We rehabilitatethem—anonymously, of course. Even find jobs or patch up homes. It'sgood practice for us.     I think I've answered most of your questions, Don. But you haven'tanswered mine. Will you join us?     Don looked solemnly at the orderly array of the computer before him.He had one more question.     Will it really work? Can it actually tell you how to motivate thestubborn, quarrelsome, opinionated people one finds on this Earth?     Crandon smiled. You're here, aren't you?     Don nodded, his tense features relaxing.     Enroll me as a member, he said.   <doc-sep>At first Don Alford had some trouble locating the POSAT headquarters.It seemed to him that the block in which the street number would fallwas occupied entirely by a huge sprawling warehouse, of concreteconstruction, and almost entirely windowless. It was recessed from thestreet in several places to make room for the small, shabby buildingsof a wholesale pharmacy, a printer's plant, an upholstering shop, andwas also indented by alleys lined with loading platforms.     It was at the back of one of the alleys that he finally found a doormarked with the now familiar emblem of POSAT.     He opened the frosted glass door with a feeling of misgiving, and faceda dark flight of stairs leading to the upper floor. Somewhere above hima buzzer sounded, evidently indicating his arrival. He picked his wayup through the murky stairwell.     The reception room was hardly a cheerful place, with its battered deskfacing the view of the empty alley, and a film of dust obscuring thepattern of the gray-looking wallpaper and worn rug. But the light ofthe summer afternoon filtering through the window scattered the gloomsomewhat, enough to help Don doubt that he would find the menace herethat he had come to expect.     The girl addressing envelopes at the desk looked very ordinary.      Notthe Mata-Hari type     , thought Don, with an inward chuckle at his ownsuspicions. He handed her the letter.     She smiled. We've been expecting you, Dr. Alford. If you'll just stepinto the next room—     She opened a door opposite the stairwell, and Don stepped through it.     The sight of the luxurious room before him struck his eyes with theshock of a dentist's drill, so great was the contrast between it andthe shabby reception room. For a moment Don had difficulty breathing.The rug—Don had seen one like it before, but it had been in a museum.The paintings on the walls, ornately framed in gilt carving, weresurely old masters—of the Renaissance period, he guessed. Although herecognized none of the pictures, he felt that he could almost name theartists. That glowing one near the corner would probably be a Titian.Or was it Tintorretto? He regretted for a moment the lost opportunitiesof his college days, when he had passed up Art History in favor ofOperational Circuit Analysis.     The girl opened a filing cabinet, the front of which was set flush withthe wall, and, selecting a folder from it, disappeared through anotherdoor.     Don sprang to examine the picture near the corner. It was hung at eyelevel—that is, at the eye level of the average person. Don had to bendover a bit to see it properly. He searched for a signature. Apparentlythere was none. But did artists sign their pictures back in thosedays? He wished he knew more about such things.     Each of the paintings was individually lighted by a fluorescent tubeheld on brackets directly above it. As Don straightened up from hisscrutiny of the picture, he inadvertently hit his head against thelight. The tube, dislodged from its brackets, fell to the rug with amuffled thud.       Now I've done it!     thought Don with dismay. But at least the tubehadn't shattered.     In fact—it was still glowing brightly! His eyes registered the fact,even while his mind refused to believe it. He raised his eyes to thebrackets. They were simple pieces of solid hardware designed to supportthe tube.     There were no wires!     Don picked up the slender, glowing cylinder and held it betweentrembling fingers. Although it was delivering as much light as a twoor three hundred watt bulb, it was cool to the touch. He examined itminutely. There was no possibility of concealed batteries.     The thumping of his heart was caused not by the fact that he had neverseen a similar tube before, but because he had. He had never heldone in his hands, though. The ones which his company had produced asexperimental models had been unsuccessful at converting all of theradioactivity into light, and had, of necessity, been heavily shielded.     Right now, two of his colleagues back in the laboratory would stillbe searching for the right combination of fluorescent materialand radioactive salts with which to make the simple, efficient,self-contained lighting unit that he was holding in his hand at thismoment!       But this is impossible!     he thought.      We're the only company that'sworking on this, and it's secret. There can't be any in actualproduction!       And even if one had actually been successfully produced, how would ithave fallen into the possession of POSAT, an Ancient Secret Society,The Perpetual Order of Seekers After Truth?     The conviction grew in Don's mind that here was something much deeperand more sinister than he would be able to cope with. He should haveasked for help, should have stated his suspicions to the police or theF.B.I. Even now—     With sudden decision, he thrust the lighting tube into his pocket andstepped swiftly to the outer door. He grasped the knob and shook itimpatiently when it stuck and refused to turn. He yanked at it. Hisimpatience changed to panic. It was locked!     A soft sound behind him made him whirl about. The secretary hadentered again through the inner door. She glanced at the vacant lightbracket, then significantly at his bulging pocket. Her gaze was stillas bland and innocent as when he had entered, but to Don she no longerseemed ordinary. Her very calmness in the face of his odd actions wasdistressingly ominous.     Our Grand Chairman will see you now, she said in a quiet voice.     Don realized that he was half crouched in the position of an animalexpecting attack. He straightened up with what dignity he could manageto find.     She opened the inner door again and Don followed her into what hesupposed to be the office of the Grand Chairman of POSAT.     Instead he found himself on a balcony along the side of a vast room,which must have been the interior of the warehouse that he had notedoutside. The girl motioned him toward the far end of the balcony, wherea frosted glass door marked the office of the Grand Chairman.       But Don could not will his legs to move. His heart beat at the sight ofthe room below him. It was a laboratory, but a laboratory the like ofwhich he had never seen before. Most of the equipment was unfamiliarto him. Whatever he did recognize was of a different design than he hadever used, and there was something about it that convinced him thatthis was more advanced. The men who bent busily over their instrumentsdid not raise their eyes to the figures on the balcony.     Good Lord! Don gasped. That's an atomic reactor down there! Therecould be no doubt about it, even though he could see it only obscurelythrough the bluish-green plastic shielding it.     His thoughts were so clamorous that he hardly realized that he hadspoken aloud, or that the door at the end of the balcony had opened.     He was only dimly aware of the approaching footsteps as he speculatedwildly on the nature of the shielding material. What could be so densethat only an inch would provide adequate shielding and yet remainsemitransparent?     His scientist's mind applauded the genius who had developed it, even asthe alarming conviction grew that he wouldn't—couldn't—be allowed toleave here any more. Surely no man would be allowed to leave this placealive to tell the fantastic story to the world!     Hello, Don, said a quiet voice beside him. It's good to see youagain.     Dr. Crandon! he heard his own voice reply.       You're     the GrandChairman of POSAT?     He felt betrayed and sick at heart. The very voice with whichCrandon had spoken conjured up visions of quiet lecture halls andhis own youthful excitement at the masterful and orderly disclosureof scientific facts. To find him here in this mad and treacherousplace—didn't anything make sense any longer?     I think we have rather abused you, Don, Dr. Crandon continued. Hisvoice sounded so gentle that Don found it hard to think there was anyevil in it. I can see that you are suspicious of us, and—yes—afraid.  <doc-sep>Don stared at the scene below him. After his initial glance to confirmhis identification of Crandon, Don could not bear to look at him.     Crandon's voice suddenly hardened, became abrupt. You're partly rightabout us, of course. I hate to think how many laws this organizationhas broken. Don't condemn us yet, though. You'll be a member yourselfbefore the day is over.     Don was shocked by such confidence in his corruptibility.     What do you use? he asked bitterly. Drugs? Hypnosis?     Crandon sighed. I forgot how little you know, Don. I have a longstory to tell you. You'll find it hard to believe at first. But try totrust me. Try to believe me, as you once did. When I say that much ofwhat POSAT does is illegal, I do not mean immoral. We're probably themost moral organization in the world. Get over the idea that you havestumbled into a den of thieves.     Crandon paused as though searching for words with which to continue.     Did you notice the paintings in the waiting room as you entered?     Don nodded, too bewildered to speak.     They were donated by the founder of our Organization. They were partof his personal collection—which, incidentally, he bought from theartists themselves. He also designed the atomic reactor we use forpower here in the laboratory.     Then the pictures are modern, said Don, aware that his mouth washanging open foolishly. I thought one was a Titian—     It is, said Crandon. We have several original Titians, although Ireally don't know too much about them.     But how could a man alive      today     buy paintings from an artist of theRenaissance?     He is not alive today. POSAT is actually what our advertisementsclaim—an      ancient     secret society. Our founder has been dead for overfour centuries.     But you said that he designed your atomic reactor.     Yes. This particular one has been in use for only twenty years,however.     Don's confusion was complete. Crandon looked at him kindly. Let'sstart at the beginning, he said, and Don was back again in theclassroom with the deep voice of Professor Crandon unfolding thepages of knowledge in clear and logical manner. Four hundred yearsago, in the time of the Italian Renaissance, a man lived who was asuper-genius. His was the kind of incredible mentality that appears notin every generation, or even every century, but once in thousands ofyears.     Probably the man who invented what we call the phonetic alphabet wasone like him. That man lived seven thousand years ago in Mesopotamia,and his discovery was so original, so far from the natural courseof man's thinking, that not once in the intervening seven thousandyears has that device been rediscovered. It still exists only in thecivilizations to which it has been passed on directly.     The super-genius who was our founder was not a semanticist. He wasa physical scientist and mathematician. Starting with the meagerheritage that existed in these fields in his time, he began tacklingphysical puzzles one by one. Sitting in his study, using as hisprincipal tool his own great mind, he invented calculus, developed thequantum theory of light, moved on to electromagnetic radiation and whatwe call Maxwell's equations—although, of course, he antedated Maxwellby centuries—developed the special and general theories of relativity,the tool of wave mechanics, and finally, toward the end of his life, hemathematically derived the packing fraction that describes the bindingenergy of nuclei—     But it can't be done, Don objected. It's an observed phenomenon. Ithasn't been derived. Every conservative instinct that he possessedcried out against this impossible fantasy. And yet—there sat thereactor, sheathed in its strange shield. Crandon watched the directionof Don's glance.     Yes, the reactor, said Crandon. He built one like it. It confirmedhis theories. His calculations showed him something else too. He sawthe destructive potentialities of an atomic explosion. He himself couldnot have built an atomic bomb; he didn't have the facilities. But hisknowledge would have enabled other men to do so. He looked abouthim. He saw a political setup of warring principalities, rival states,intrigue, and squabbles over political power. Giving the men of histime atomic energy would have been like handing a baby a firecrackerwith a lighted fuse.     What should he have done? Let his secrets die with him? Hedidn't think so. No one else in his age could have      derived     theknowledge that he did. But it was an age of brilliant men. Leonardo.Michelangelo. There were men capable of      learning     his science, even asmen can learn it today. He gathered some of them together and foundedthis society. It served two purposes. It perpetuated his discoveriesand at the same time it maintained the greatest secrecy about them. Heurged that the secrets be kept until the time when men could use themsafely. The other purpose was to make that time come about as soon aspossible.     Crandon looked at Don's unbelieving face. How can I make you see thatit is the truth? Think of the eons that man or manlike creatures havewalked the Earth. Think what a small fraction of that time is fourhundred years. Is it so strange that atomic energy was discovered alittle early, by this displacement in time that is so tiny after all?     But by one man, Don argued.     Crandon shrugged. Compared with him, Don, you and I are stupid men.So are the scientists who slowly plodded down the same road he hadcome, stumbling first on one truth and then the succeeding one. We knowthat inventions and discoveries do not occur at random. Each is basedon the one that preceded it. We are all aware of the phenomenon ofsimultaneous invention. The path to truth is a straight one. It is onlyour own stupidity that makes it seem slow and tortuous.     He merely followed the straight path, Crandon finished simply.  <doc-sep>It took three weeks to make the return trip to Swamp City. The Varsoomfollowed us far beyond the frontier of their country like an unseenarmy in the throes of laughing gas. Not until we reached Level Five didthe last chuckle fade into the distance.     All during that trek back, Grannie sat in the dugout, staring silentlyout before her.     But when we reached Swamp City, the news was flung at us from allsides. One newspaper headline accurately told the story: DOCTORUNIVERSE BID FOR SYSTEM DICTATORSHIP SQUELCHED BY RIDICULE OF UNSEENAUDIENCE. QUIZ MASTER NOW IN HANDS OF I.P. COUP FAILURE.     Grannie, I said that night as we sat again in a rear booth of THEJET, what are you going to do now? Give up writing science fiction?     She looked at me soberly, then broke into a smile.     Just because some silly form of life that can't even be seen doesn'tappreciate it? I should say not. Right now I've got an idea for a swellyarn about Mars. Want to come along while I dig up some backgroundmaterial?     I shook my head. Not me, I said.     But I knew I would.   <doc-sep>April fields stretched darkly away on either side of the highway.Presently she turned down a rutted road between two of them and theybounced and swayed back to a black blur of trees. Here we are, shesaid.     Gradually he made out the sphere. It blended so flawlessly with itsbackground that he wouldn't have been able to see it at all if hehadn't been informed of its existence. A gangplank sloped down from anopen lock and came to rest just within the fringe of the trees.     Lights danced in the darkness behind them as another car jounced downthe rutted road. Jilka, Kay said. I wonder if she got him.     Apparently she had. At least there was a man with her—a ratherwoebegone, wilted creature who didn't even look up as they passed.Quidley watched them ascend the gangplank, the man in the lead, anddisappear into the ship.     Next, Kay said.     Quidley shook his head. You're not taking      me     to another planet!     She opened her purse and pulled out a small metallic object Alittle while ago you asked me what a      snoll doper     was, she said.Unfortunately interstellar law severely limits us in our choice ofmarriageable males, and we can take only those who refuse to conformto the sexual mores of their own societies. She did something to theobject that caused it to extend itself into a long, tubular affair.      This     is a      snoll doper     .     She prodded his ribs. March, she said.     He marched. Halfway up the plank he glanced back over his shoulder fora better look at the object pressed against his back.     It bore a striking resemblance to a shotgun.  <doc-sep>Greetings, it said! Greetings! Ball was mumbling incredulouslythrough shocked lips.     Everyone on the ship had heard the voice. When it spoke again, Steffenswas not sure whether it was just one voice or many voices.     We await your coming, it said gravely, and repeated: Our desire isonly to serve.     And then the robots sent a      picture     .     As perfect and as clear as a tridim movie, a rectangular plate tookshape in Steffens' mind. On the face of the plate, standing aloneagainst a background of red-brown, bare rocks, was one of the robots.With slow, perfect movement, the robot carefully lifted one of thehanging arms of its side, of its      right     side, and extended it towardSteffens, a graciously offered hand.     Steffens felt a peculiar, compelling urge to take the hand, realizedright away that the urge to take the hand was not entirely his. Therobot mind had helped.     When the picture vanished, he knew that the others had seen it. Hewaited for a while; there was no further contact, but the feeling ofthe robot's urging was still strong within him. He had an idea that, ifthey wanted to, the robots could control his mind. So when nothing morehappened, he began to lose his fear.     While the crew watched in fascination, Steffens tried to talk back.He concentrated hard on what he was saying, said it aloud for goodmeasure, then held his own hand extended in the robot manner of shakinghands.     Greetings, he said, because it was what      they     had said, andexplained: We have come from the stars.     It was overly dramatic, but so was the whole situation. He wonderedbaffledly if he should have let the Alien Contact crew handle it. Ordersomeone to stand there, feeling like a fool, and      think     a message?     No, it was his responsibility; he had to go on:     We request—we respectfully request permission to land upon yourplanet.  <doc-sep>Back on Earth it was a warm, misty spring day—the kind of day unknownto the planet Mars. Bella and Scribney, superb in new spring outfits,waited restlessly while the rocket cooled and the passengers recoveredfrom deceleration.     Look, Scrib! Bella clutched Scribney's substantial arm. It's finallyopening.     They watched the airlock open and the platform wheel into place. Theywatched the passengers descend, looking a trifle dazed.     There he is! cried Bella. Why, doesn't he look wonderful! Scrib,it's amazing! Look at him!     And indeed, Harper was stepping briskly downward, looking spry and fitand years younger. He came across to them actually beaming. It was thefirst pleasant expression they had seen on his face in years.     Well, you old dog! exclaimed Scribney affectionately. So you did itagain!     Harper smirked. Yep, I turned a neat little deal. I bought outHagerty's Enzymes and staffed the plant with the hotel's robots. Gotboth of 'em dirt cheap. Both concerns going bankrupt because theydidn't have sense enough to swap their workers. Feel I owe you a bitfor that tip about enzymes, Scrib, so I made out a block of stock toyou. All right?     All right? Scribney gulped. Why, the dried-up little turnip was humanafter all. All right! Yes, sir! But aren't you going to use some ofthose robots for office help? Aren't they efficient and all that?     Harper's smile vanished. Don't even mention such a thing! he yelped.You don't know what you're saying! I lived with those things forweeks. I wouldn't have one around! Keep 'em in the factory where theybelong!     He glimpsed the composed, wonderfully human face of his secretary,waiting patiently in the background. Oh there you are, Smythe. Heturned to his relatives. Busy day ahead. See you later, folks—     Same old Harp, observed Scribney. Then he thought of the block ofstock. What say we celebrate our rise to a position in the syndicate,honey?     Wonderful! She squeezed his arm, and smiling at each other, they leftthe port.   <doc-sep></s> [SEP] ""What is the background of POSAT?""","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What role do Bill and Elizabeth play in the narrative of POSAT? [SEP] <s>   What is POSAT?     By PHYLLIS STERLING SMITH     Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Of course coming events cast their shadows     before, but this shadow was 400 years long!      The following advertisement appeared in the July 1953 issue of severalmagazines:     MASTERY OF ALL KNOWLEDGE CAN BE YOURS!     What is the secret source of those profound     principles that can solve the problems of life?     Send for our FREE booklet of explanation.     Do not be a leaf in the wind! YOU     can alter the course of your life!     Tap the treasury of Wisdom through the ages!     The Perpetual Order of Seekers After Truth     POSAT     an ancient secret society     Most readers passed it by with scarcely a glance. It was, after all,similar to the many that had appeared through the years under thename of that same society. Other readers, as their eyes slid over thefamiliar format of the ad, speculated idly about the persistent andmildly mysterious organization behind it. A few even resolved to clipthe attached coupon and send for the booklet—sometime—when a pen orpencil was nearer at hand.     Bill Evans, an unemployed pharmacist, saw the ad in a copy of      YourLife and Psychology     that had been abandoned on his seat in the bus.He filled out the blanks on the coupon with a scrap of stubby pencil.You can alter the course of your life! he read again. He particularlyliked that thought, even though he had long since ceased to believeit. He actually took the trouble to mail the coupon. After all, hehad, literally, nothing to lose, and nothing else to occupy his time.     Miss Elizabeth Arnable was one of the few to whom the advertisementwas unfamiliar. As a matter of fact, she very seldom read a magazine.The radio in her room took the place of reading matter, and she alwaysliked to think that it amused her cats as well as herself. Readingwould be so selfish under the circumstances, wouldn't it? Not but whatthe cats weren't almost smart enough to read, she always said.     It just so happened, however, that she had bought a copy of the      Antivivisectionist Gazette     the day before. She pounced upon the POSATad as a trout might snap at a particularly attractive fly. Havingfilled out the coupon with violet ink, she invented an errand thatwould take her past the neighborhood post office so that she could postit as soon as possible.     Donald Alford, research physicist, came across the POSAT ad tucked atthe bottom of a column in      The Bulletin of Physical Research     . He wasengrossed in the latest paper by Dr. Crandon, a man whom he admiredfrom the point of view of both a former student and a fellow researchworker. Consequently, he was one of the many who passed over the POSATad with the disregard accorded to any common object.     He read with interest to the end of the article before he realized thatsome component of the advertisement had been noted by a region of hisbrain just beyond consciousness. It teased at him like a tickle thatcouldn't be scratched until he turned back to the page.     It was the symbol or emblem of POSAT, he realized, that had caught hisattention. The perpendicularly crossed ellipses centered with a smallblack circle might almost be a conventionalized version of the Bohratom of helium. He smiled with mild skepticism as he read through theprinted matter that accompanied it.     I wonder what their racket is, he mused. Then, because his typewriterwas conveniently at hand, he carefully tore out the coupon and insertedit in the machine. The spacing of the typewriter didn't fit the dottedlines on the coupon, of course, but he didn't bother to correct it.He addressed an envelope, laid it with other mail to be posted, andpromptly forgot all about it. Since he was a methodical man, it wasentrusted to the U.S. mail early the next morning, together with hisother letters.     Three identical forms accompanied the booklet which POSAT sent inresponse to the three inquiries. The booklet gave no more informationthan had the original advertisement, but with considerable morevolubility. It promised the recipient the secrets of the Cosmos and thekey that would unlock the hidden knowledge within himself—if he wouldmerely fill out the enclosed form.     Bill Evans, the unemployed pharmacist, let the paper lie unanswered forseveral days. To be quite honest, he was disappointed. Although he hadmentally disclaimed all belief in anything that POSAT might offer, hehad watched the return mails with anticipation. His own resources werealmost at an end, and he had reached the point where intervention bysomething supernatural, or at least superhuman, seemed the only hope.     He had hoped, unreasonably, that POSAT had an answer. But time layheavily upon him, and he used it one evening to write the requestedinformation—about his employment (ha!), his religious beliefs, hisreason for inquiring about POSAT, his financial situation. Withoutquite knowing that he did so, he communicated in his terse answers someof his desperation and sense of futility.     Miss Arnable was delighted with the opportunity for autobiographicalcomposition. It required five extra sheets of paper to convey all theinformation that she wished to give—all about her poor, dear fatherwho had been a missionary to China, and the kinship that she felttoward the mystic cults of the East, her belief that her cats werereincarnations of her loved ones (which, she stated, derived from areligion of the Persians; or was it the Egyptians?) and in her completeand absolute acceptance of everything that POSAT had stated in theirbooklet. And what would the dues be? She wished to join immediately.Fortunately, dear father had left her in a comfortable financialsituation.     To Donald Alford, the booklet seemed to confirm his suspicion thatPOSAT was a racket of some sort. Why else would they be interested inhis employment or financial position? It also served to increase hiscuriosity.     What do you suppose they're driving at? he asked his wife Betty,handing her the booklet and questionnaire.     I don't really know what to say, she answered, squinting a little asshe usually did when puzzled. I know one thing, though, and that'sthat you won't stop until you find out!     The scientific attitude, he acknowledged with a grin.     Why don't you fill out this questionnaire incognito, though? shesuggested. Pretend that we're wealthy and see if they try to get ourmoney. Do they have anything yet except your name and address?     Don was shocked. If I send this back to them, it will have to be withcorrect answers!     The scientific attitude again, Betty sighed. Don't you ever let yourimagination run away with the facts a bit? What are you going to givefor your reasons for asking about POSAT?     Curiosity, he replied, and, pulling his fountain pen from his vestpocket, he wrote exactly that, in small, neat script.     It was unfortunate for his curiosity that Don could not see thecontents of the three envelopes that were mailed from the offices ofPOSAT the following week. For this time they differed.     Bill Evans was once again disappointed. The pamphlet that was enclosedgave what apparently meant to be final answers to life's problems. Theywere couched in vaguely metaphysical terms and offered absolutely nohelp to him.     His disappointment was tempered, however, by the knowledge that hehad unexpectedly found a job. Or, rather, it had fallen into his lap.When he had thought that every avenue of employment had been tried, aposition had been offered him in a wholesale pharmacy in the olderindustrial part of the city. It was not a particularly attractive placeto work, located as it was next to a large warehouse, but to him it washope for the future.     It amused him to discover that the offices of POSAT were located on theother side of the same warehouse, at the end of a blind alley. Blindalley indeed! He felt vaguely ashamed for having placed any confidencein them.     Miss Arnable was thrilled to discover that her envelope contained notonly several pamphlets, (she scanned the titles rapidly and found thatone of them concerned the sacred cats of ancient Egypt), but that itcontained also a small pin with the symbol of POSAT wrought in gold andblack enamel. The covering letter said that she had been accepted as anactive member of POSAT and that the dues were five dollars per month;please remit by return mail. She wrote a check immediately, and settledcontentedly into a chair to peruse the article on sacred cats.     After a while she began to read aloud so that her own cats could enjoyit, too.     Don Alford would not have been surprised if his envelope had showncontents similar to the ones that the others received. The foldedsheets of paper that he pulled forth, however, made him stiffen withsharp surprise.       Come here a minute, Betty, he called, spreading them out carefully onthe dining room table. What do you make of these?     She came, dish cloth in hand, and thoughtfully examined them, one byone. Multiple choice questions! It looks like a psychological test ofsome sort.     This isn't the kind of thing I expected them to send me, worriedDon. Look at the type of thing they ask. 'If you had discovereda new and virulent poison that could be compounded from commonhousehold ingredients, would you (1) publish the information in adaily newspaper, (2) manufacture it secretly and sell it as rodentexterminator, (3) give the information to the armed forces for useas a secret weapon, or (4) withhold the information entirely as toodangerous to be passed on?'     Could they be a spy ring? asked Betty. Subversive agents? Anxious tofind out your scientific secrets like that classified stuff that you'reso careful of when you bring it home from the lab?     Don scanned the papers quickly. There's nothing here that looks likean attempt to get information. Besides, I've told them nothing aboutmy work except that I do research in physics. They don't even knowwhat company I work for. If this is a psychological test, it measuresattitudes, nothing else. Why should they want to know my attitudes?     Do you suppose that POSAT is really what it claims to be—a secretsociety—and that they actually screen their applicants?     He smiled wryly. Wouldn't it be interesting if I didn't make the gradeafter starting out to expose their racket?     He pulled out his pen and sat down to the task of resolving thedilemmas before him.     His next communication from POSAT came to his business address and,paradoxically, was more personal than its forerunners.     Dear Doctor Alford:     We have examined with interest the information that you have sent tous. We are happy to inform you that, thus far, you have satisfied therequirements for membership in the Perpetual Order of Seekers AfterTruth. Before accepting new members into this ancient and honorablesecret society, we find it desirable that they have a personalinterview with the Grand Chairman of POSAT.     Accordingly, you are cordially invited to an audience with our GrandChairman on Tuesday, July 10, at 2:30 P.M. Please let us know if thisarrangement is acceptable to you. If not, we will attempt to makeanother appointment for you.     The time specified for the appointment was hardly a convenient onefor Don. At 2:30 P.M. on most Tuesdays, he would be at work in thelaboratory. And while his employers made no complaint if he took hisresearch problems home with him and worried over them half the night,they were not equally enthusiastic when he used working hours forpursuing unrelated interests. Moreover, the headquarters of POSAT wasin a town almost a hundred miles distant. Could he afford to take awhole day off for chasing will-o-wisps?     It hardly seemed worth the trouble. He wondered if Betty would bedisappointed if he dropped the whole matter. Since the letter had beensent to the laboratory instead of his home, he couldn't consult herabout it without telephoning.       Since the letter had been sent to the laboratory instead of his home!     But it was impossible!     He searched feverishly through his pile of daily mail for theenvelope in which the letter had come. The address stared up at him,unmistakably and fearfully legible. The name of his company. The numberof the room he worked in. In short, the address that he had never giventhem!     Get hold of yourself, he commanded his frightened mind. There's someperfectly logical, easy explanation for this. They looked it up in thedirectory of the Institute of Physics. Or in the alumni directory ofthe university. Or—or—     But the more he thought about it, the more sinister it seemed. Hislaboratory address was available, but why should POSAT take the troubleof looking it up? Some prudent impulse had led him to withhold thatparticular bit of information, yet now, for some reason of their own,POSAT had unearthed the information.     His wife's words echoed in his mind, Could they be a spy ring?Subversive agents?     Don shook his head as though to clear away the confusion. Hisconservative habit of thought made him reject that explanation as toomelodramatic.     At least one decision was easier to reach because of his doubts. Now heknew he had to keep his appointment with the Grand Chairman of POSAT.     He scribbled a memo to the department office stating that he would notbe at work on Tuesday.  <doc-sep>Most of the cousins gasped as the truth began to percolate through.     I knew from the very beginning, Conrad finished, that I didn'thave to do anything at all. I just had to wait and you would destroyyourselves.     I don't understand, Bartholomew protested, searching the faces of thecousins closest to him. What does he mean, we have never existed?We're here, aren't we? What—     Shut up! Raymond snapped. He turned on Martin. You don't seemsurprised.     The old man grinned. I'm not. I figured it all out years ago.     At first, he had wondered what he should do. Would it be better tothrow them into a futile panic by telling them or to do nothing? Hehad decided on the latter; that was the role they had assigned him—towatch and wait and keep out of things—and that was the role he wouldplay.     You knew all the time and you didn't tell us! Raymond spluttered.After we'd been so good to you, making a gentleman out of you insteadof a criminal.... That's right, he snarled, a criminal! An alcoholic,a thief, a derelict! How do you like that?     Sounds like a rich, full life, Martin said wistfully.     What an exciting existence they must have done him out of! But then, hecouldn't help thinking, he—he and Conrad together, of course—had donethem out of      any     kind of existence. It wasn't his responsibility,though; he had done nothing but let matters take whatever course wasdestined for them. If only he could be sure that it was the bettercourse, perhaps he wouldn't feel that nagging sense of guilt insidehim. Strange—where, in his hermetic life, could he possibly havedeveloped such a queer thing as a conscience?     Then we've wasted all this time, Ninian sobbed, all this energy, allthis money, for nothing!     But you were nothing to begin with, Martin told them. And then,after a pause, he added, I only wish I could be sure there had beensome purpose to this.     He didn't know whether it was approaching death that dimmed his sight,or whether the frightened crowd that pressed around him was growingshadowy.     I wish I could feel that some good had been done in letting you bewiped out of existence, he went on voicing his thoughts. But I knowthat the same thing that happened to your worlds and my world willhappen all over again. To other people, in other times, but again. It'sbound to happen. There isn't any hope for humanity.     One man couldn't really change the course of human history, he toldhimself. Two men, that was—one real, one a shadow.     Conrad came close to the old man's bed. He was almost transparent.     No, he said, there is hope. They didn't know the time transmitterworks two ways. I used it for going into the past only once—just thisonce. But I've gone into the future with it many times. And— hepressed Martin's hand—believe me, what I did—what      we     did, you andI—serves a purpose. It will change things for the better. Everythingis going to be all right.  <doc-sep>Don's incredulity thawed a little. It was not entirely beyond the realmof possibility.     But if it were true! A vast panorama of possible achievements spreadbefore him.     Four hundred years! he murmured with awe. You've had four hundredyears head-start on the rest of the world! What wonders you must haveuncovered in that time!     Our technical achievements may disappoint you, warned Crandon.Oh, they're way beyond anything that you are familiar with. You'veundoubtedly noticed the shielding material on the reactor. That's afairly recent development of our metallurgical department. There areother things in the laboratory that I can't even explain to you untilyou have caught up on the technical basis for understanding them.     Our emphasis has not been on physical sciences, however, except asthey contribute to our central project. We want to change civilizationso that it can use physical science without disaster.     For a moment Don had been fired with enthusiasm. But at these words hisheart sank.     Then you've failed, he said bitterly. In spite of centuries ofadvance warning, you've failed to change the rest of us enough toprevent us from trying to blow ourselves off the Earth. Here we are,still snarling and snapping at our neighbors' throats—and we've caughtup with you. We have the atomic bomb. What's POSAT been doing all thattime? Or have you found that human nature really can't be changed?     Come with me, said Crandon.     He led the way along the narrow balcony to another door, then down asteep flight of stairs. He opened a door at the bottom, and Don sawwhat must have been the world's largest computing machine.     This is our answer, said Crandon. Oh, rather, it's the tool by whichwe find our answer. For two centuries we have been working on thenewest of the sciences—that of human motivation. Soon we will be readyto put some of our new knowledge to work. But you are right in onerespect, we are working now against time. We must hurry if we are tosave our civilization. That's why you are here. We have work for you todo. Will you join us, Don?     But why the hocus-pocus? asked Don. Why do you hide behind such aweird front as POSAT? Why do you advertise in magazines and invite justanyone to join? Why didn't you approach me directly, if you have workfor me to do? And if you really have the answers to our problems, whyhaven't you gathered together all the scientists in the world to workon this project—before it's too late?     Crandon took a sighing breath. How I wish that we could do just that!But you forget that one of the prime purposes of our organization isto maintain the secrecy of our discoveries until they can be safelydisclosed. We must be absolutely certain that anyone who enters thisbuilding will have joined POSAT before he leaves. What if we approachedthe wrong scientist? Centuries of accomplishment might be wasted ifthey attempted either to reveal it or to exploit it!     Do you recall the questionnaires that you answered before you wereinvited here? We fed the answers to this machine and, as a result, weknow more about how you will react in any given situation than you doyourself. Even if you should fail to join us, our secrets would besafe with you. Of course, we miss a few of the scientists who mightbe perfect material for our organization. You'd be surprised, though,at how clever our advertisements are at attracting exactly the men wewant. With the help of our new science, we have baited our ads well,and we know how to maintain interest. Curiosity is, to the men we want,a powerful motivator.     But what about the others? asked Don. There must be hundreds ofapplicants who would be of no use to you at all.     Oh, yes, replied Crandon. There are the mild religious fanatics. Weenroll them as members and keep them interested by sending pamphlets inline with their interests. We even let them contribute to our upkeep,if they seem to want to. They never get beyond the reception room ifthey come to call on us. But they are additional people through whom wecan act when the time finally comes.     There are also the desperate people who try POSAT as a lastresort—lost ones who can't find their direction in life. For them weput into practice some of our newly won knowledge. We rehabilitatethem—anonymously, of course. Even find jobs or patch up homes. It'sgood practice for us.     I think I've answered most of your questions, Don. But you haven'tanswered mine. Will you join us?     Don looked solemnly at the orderly array of the computer before him.He had one more question.     Will it really work? Can it actually tell you how to motivate thestubborn, quarrelsome, opinionated people one finds on this Earth?     Crandon smiled. You're here, aren't you?     Don nodded, his tense features relaxing.     Enroll me as a member, he said.   <doc-sep>At first Don Alford had some trouble locating the POSAT headquarters.It seemed to him that the block in which the street number would fallwas occupied entirely by a huge sprawling warehouse, of concreteconstruction, and almost entirely windowless. It was recessed from thestreet in several places to make room for the small, shabby buildingsof a wholesale pharmacy, a printer's plant, an upholstering shop, andwas also indented by alleys lined with loading platforms.     It was at the back of one of the alleys that he finally found a doormarked with the now familiar emblem of POSAT.     He opened the frosted glass door with a feeling of misgiving, and faceda dark flight of stairs leading to the upper floor. Somewhere above hima buzzer sounded, evidently indicating his arrival. He picked his wayup through the murky stairwell.     The reception room was hardly a cheerful place, with its battered deskfacing the view of the empty alley, and a film of dust obscuring thepattern of the gray-looking wallpaper and worn rug. But the light ofthe summer afternoon filtering through the window scattered the gloomsomewhat, enough to help Don doubt that he would find the menace herethat he had come to expect.     The girl addressing envelopes at the desk looked very ordinary.      Notthe Mata-Hari type     , thought Don, with an inward chuckle at his ownsuspicions. He handed her the letter.     She smiled. We've been expecting you, Dr. Alford. If you'll just stepinto the next room—     She opened a door opposite the stairwell, and Don stepped through it.     The sight of the luxurious room before him struck his eyes with theshock of a dentist's drill, so great was the contrast between it andthe shabby reception room. For a moment Don had difficulty breathing.The rug—Don had seen one like it before, but it had been in a museum.The paintings on the walls, ornately framed in gilt carving, weresurely old masters—of the Renaissance period, he guessed. Although herecognized none of the pictures, he felt that he could almost name theartists. That glowing one near the corner would probably be a Titian.Or was it Tintorretto? He regretted for a moment the lost opportunitiesof his college days, when he had passed up Art History in favor ofOperational Circuit Analysis.     The girl opened a filing cabinet, the front of which was set flush withthe wall, and, selecting a folder from it, disappeared through anotherdoor.     Don sprang to examine the picture near the corner. It was hung at eyelevel—that is, at the eye level of the average person. Don had to bendover a bit to see it properly. He searched for a signature. Apparentlythere was none. But did artists sign their pictures back in thosedays? He wished he knew more about such things.     Each of the paintings was individually lighted by a fluorescent tubeheld on brackets directly above it. As Don straightened up from hisscrutiny of the picture, he inadvertently hit his head against thelight. The tube, dislodged from its brackets, fell to the rug with amuffled thud.       Now I've done it!     thought Don with dismay. But at least the tubehadn't shattered.     In fact—it was still glowing brightly! His eyes registered the fact,even while his mind refused to believe it. He raised his eyes to thebrackets. They were simple pieces of solid hardware designed to supportthe tube.     There were no wires!     Don picked up the slender, glowing cylinder and held it betweentrembling fingers. Although it was delivering as much light as a twoor three hundred watt bulb, it was cool to the touch. He examined itminutely. There was no possibility of concealed batteries.     The thumping of his heart was caused not by the fact that he had neverseen a similar tube before, but because he had. He had never heldone in his hands, though. The ones which his company had produced asexperimental models had been unsuccessful at converting all of theradioactivity into light, and had, of necessity, been heavily shielded.     Right now, two of his colleagues back in the laboratory would stillbe searching for the right combination of fluorescent materialand radioactive salts with which to make the simple, efficient,self-contained lighting unit that he was holding in his hand at thismoment!       But this is impossible!     he thought.      We're the only company that'sworking on this, and it's secret. There can't be any in actualproduction!       And even if one had actually been successfully produced, how would ithave fallen into the possession of POSAT, an Ancient Secret Society,The Perpetual Order of Seekers After Truth?     The conviction grew in Don's mind that here was something much deeperand more sinister than he would be able to cope with. He should haveasked for help, should have stated his suspicions to the police or theF.B.I. Even now—     With sudden decision, he thrust the lighting tube into his pocket andstepped swiftly to the outer door. He grasped the knob and shook itimpatiently when it stuck and refused to turn. He yanked at it. Hisimpatience changed to panic. It was locked!     A soft sound behind him made him whirl about. The secretary hadentered again through the inner door. She glanced at the vacant lightbracket, then significantly at his bulging pocket. Her gaze was stillas bland and innocent as when he had entered, but to Don she no longerseemed ordinary. Her very calmness in the face of his odd actions wasdistressingly ominous.     Our Grand Chairman will see you now, she said in a quiet voice.     Don realized that he was half crouched in the position of an animalexpecting attack. He straightened up with what dignity he could manageto find.     She opened the inner door again and Don followed her into what hesupposed to be the office of the Grand Chairman of POSAT.     Instead he found himself on a balcony along the side of a vast room,which must have been the interior of the warehouse that he had notedoutside. The girl motioned him toward the far end of the balcony, wherea frosted glass door marked the office of the Grand Chairman.       But Don could not will his legs to move. His heart beat at the sight ofthe room below him. It was a laboratory, but a laboratory the like ofwhich he had never seen before. Most of the equipment was unfamiliarto him. Whatever he did recognize was of a different design than he hadever used, and there was something about it that convinced him thatthis was more advanced. The men who bent busily over their instrumentsdid not raise their eyes to the figures on the balcony.     Good Lord! Don gasped. That's an atomic reactor down there! Therecould be no doubt about it, even though he could see it only obscurelythrough the bluish-green plastic shielding it.     His thoughts were so clamorous that he hardly realized that he hadspoken aloud, or that the door at the end of the balcony had opened.     He was only dimly aware of the approaching footsteps as he speculatedwildly on the nature of the shielding material. What could be so densethat only an inch would provide adequate shielding and yet remainsemitransparent?     His scientist's mind applauded the genius who had developed it, even asthe alarming conviction grew that he wouldn't—couldn't—be allowed toleave here any more. Surely no man would be allowed to leave this placealive to tell the fantastic story to the world!     Hello, Don, said a quiet voice beside him. It's good to see youagain.     Dr. Crandon! he heard his own voice reply.       You're     the GrandChairman of POSAT?     He felt betrayed and sick at heart. The very voice with whichCrandon had spoken conjured up visions of quiet lecture halls andhis own youthful excitement at the masterful and orderly disclosureof scientific facts. To find him here in this mad and treacherousplace—didn't anything make sense any longer?     I think we have rather abused you, Don, Dr. Crandon continued. Hisvoice sounded so gentle that Don found it hard to think there was anyevil in it. I can see that you are suspicious of us, and—yes—afraid.  <doc-sep>Everybody has a name, and I knew if I went off somewhere quiet andthought about it, mine would come to me. Meanwhile, I would tell thegirl that my name was ... Kevin O'Malley. Abruptly I realized that that      was     my name.     Kevin, I told her. John Kevin.     Mister Kevin, she said, her words dancing with bright absurdity likewaterhose mist on a summer afternoon, I wonder if you could help      me     .     Happy to, miss, I mumbled.     She pushed a white rectangle in front of me on the painted maroon bar.What do you think of this?     I looked at the piece of paper. It was a coupon from a magazine.       Dear Acolyte R. I. S.     :       Please send me FREE of obligation, in sealed wrapper, The ScarletBook revealing to me how I may gain Secret Mastery of the Universe.         Name     : ........................       Address     : .....................     The world disoriented itself and I was on the floor of the somber dinerand Miss Vivian Casey was out of sight and scent.     There was a five dollar bill tight in my fist. The counterman wastrying to pull it out.     I looked up at his stubbled face. I had half a dozen hamburgers, acup of coffee and a glass of milk. I want four more 'burgers to go anda pint of coffee. By your prices, that will be one sixty-five—if thelady didn't pay you.     She didn't, he stammered. Why do you think I was trying to get thatbill out of your hand?     I didn't say anything, just got up off the floor. After the countermanput down my change, I spread out the five dollar bill on the vacantbar, smoothing it.     I scooped up my change and walked out the door. There was no one on thesidewalk, only in the doorways.  <doc-sep>Lewis Terry was going fishing. For a week the typewriter mill that hadground out a thousand assorted yarns of the untamed West and the frigiddesolation of the Northwoods had been silent. Lewis wondered if he wasgoing stale. He had sat every day for eight hours in front of thatshiny-buttoned bane of the typist, but there were no results. Feeblyhe had punched a key two days ago and a $ sign had appeared. He hadn'tdared touch the machine since.     For Mr. Terry, that hard-hitting writer of two-gun action, had neverbeen further west of Long Island than Elizabeth, and he had promisedhis wife, Ellen, that he would take the three children and herself ona trailer tour of the      West     that very summer. Since that promise, hecould not write a word. Visions of whooping red-skinned Apaches andbe-chapped outlaws raiding his little trailer home kept rolling up outof his subconscious. Yet he      had     to write at least three novelets anda fistful of short stories in the next two weeks to finance the greatadventure—or the trip was off.     So Lewis left the weathered old cottage in the early dawn and headedfor his tubby old boat at the landing in an attempt to work out asalable yarn....     Hey! he shouted as a naked man sprang out of the bushes beside theroad. What's the trouble?     Then he had no time for further speech, the massive arms of thestranger had wound around him and two hamlike hands shut off his speechand his wind. He fought futilely against trained muscles. The handclamping his throat relaxed for a moment and hacked along the side ofhis head. Blackness flooded the brain of Lewis, and he knew no more.  <doc-sep>She had finished. And now Cyril cleared his throat. Dear friends, wewere honored by your gracious invitation to visit this fair planet, andwe are honored now by the cordial reception you have given to us.     The crowd yoomped politely. After a slight start, Cyril went on,apparently deciding that applause was all that had been intended.     We feel quite sure that we are going to derive both pleasure andprofit from our stay here, and we promise to make our intensiveanalysis of your culture as painless as possible. We wish only to studyyour society, not to tamper with it in any way.       Ha, ha     , Skkiru said to himself.      Ha, ha, ha!       But why is it, Raoul whispered in Terran as he glanced around out ofthe corners of his eyes, that only the beggar wears mudshoes?     Shhh, Cyril hissed back. We'll find out later, when we'veestablished rapport. Don't be so impatient!     Bbulas gave a sickly smile. Skkiru could almost find it in his heartsto feel sorry for the man.     We have prepared our best hut for you, noble sirs, Bbulas said withgreat self-control, and, by happy chance, this very evening a smallbut unusually interesting ceremony will be held outside the temple. Wehope you will be able to attend. It is to be a rain dance.     Rain dance! Raoul pulled his macintosh together more tightly at thethroat. But why do you want rain? My faith, not only does it rain now,but the planet seems to be a veritable sea of mud. Not, of course, headded hurriedly as Cyril's reproachful eye caught his, that it is notattractive mud. Finest mud I have ever seen. Such texture, such color,such aroma!     Cyril nodded three times and gave an appreciative sniff.     But, Raoul went on, one can have too much of even such a good thingas mud....     The smile did not leave Bbulas' smooth face. Yes, of course, honorableTerrestrials. That is why we are holding this ceremony. It is not adance to bring on rain. It is a dance to      stop     rain.     He was pretty quick on the uptake, Skkiru had to concede. However,that was not enough. The man had no genuine organizational ability.In the time he'd had in which to plan and carry out a scheme forthe improvement of Snaddra, surely he could have done better thanthis high-school theocracy. For one thing, he could have apportionedthe various roles so that each person would be making a definitecontribution to the society, instead of creating some positions plums,like the priesthood, and others prunes, like the beggarship.     What kind of life was that for an active, ambitious young man, standingaround begging? And, moreover, from whom was Skkiru going to beg?Only the Earthmen, for the Snaddrath, no matter how much they threwthemselves into the spirit of their roles, could not be so carriedaway that they would give handouts to a young man whom they had beenaccustomed to see basking in the bosom of luxury.  <doc-sep>He whirled, staring out across the fields to his left. Why, the tractorshed had stood just fifty feet from the house!     No, he'd torn it down. The tractor was in town, being overhauled andall. He was leaving it there until he had use for it.     He went on toward the road, his head beginning to throb. Why shoulda man his age, hardly sick at all since he was a kid, suddenly startlosing hold this way? Edna was worried. The Shanks had noticed it too.     He was at the supply bin—like an old-fashioned wood bin; a box witha sloping flap lid. Deliveries of food and clothing and home medicinesand other things were left here. You wrote down what you needed, andthey left it—or whatever they allowed you—with a bill. You paid thebill by leaving money in the bin, and the next week you found a receiptand your new stuff and your new bill. And almost always you found somemoney from the government, for not planting wheat or not planting corn.It came out just about even.     He hauled out a sack of flour, half the amount of sugar Edna hadordered, some dried fruit, a new Homekit Medicine Shelf. He carried itinto the house, and noticed a slip of paper pinned to the sugar bag. Atelevision program guide.     Edna hustled over excitedly. Anything good on this week, Harry?     He looked down the listings, and frowned. All old movies. Still onlyone channel. Still only from nine to eleven at night. He gave it toher, turned away; then stopped and waited. He'd said the same thinglast week. And she had said the films were all new to her.     She said it now. Why Harry, I've never seen this movie with ClarkGable. Nor the comedy with Red Skeleton. Nor the other five neither.     I'm gonna lie down, he said flatly. He turned and stepped forward,and found himself facing the stove. Not the door to the hall; thestove. But the door.... he began. He cut himself short. He turned andsaw the door a few feet to the left, beside the table. He went thereand out and up the stairs (they too had moved; they too weren't right)and into the bedroom and lay down. The bedroom was wrong. The bed waswrong. The windows were wrong.     The world was wrong! Lord, the whole damned world was wrong!  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What role do Bill and Elizabeth play in the narrative of POSAT?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in I, the Unspeakable? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>   I, the Unspeakable     By WALT SHELDON     Illustrated by LOUIS MARCHETTI     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction April 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       What's in a name? might be very dangerous     to ask in certain societies, in which sticks     and stones are also a big problem!      I fought to be awake. I was dreaming, but I think I must have blushed.I must have blushed in my sleep.           Do it!      she said.       Please do it! For me!          It was the voice that always came, low, intense, seductive, the soundof your hand on silk ... and to a citizen of Northem, a conformist, itwas shocking. I was a conformist then; I was still one that morning.     I awoke. The glowlight was on, slowly increasing. I was in my livingmachine in Center Four, where I belonged, and all the familiar thingswere about me, reality was back, but I was breathing very hard.     I lay on the pneumo a while before getting up. I looked at thechroner: 0703 hours, Day 17, Month IX, New Century Three. My morningnuro-tablets had already popped from the tube, and the timer had begunto boil an egg. The egg was there because the realfood allotment hadbeen increased last month. The balance of trade with Southem had justswung a decimal or two our way.     I rose finally, stepped to the mirror, switched it to positive andlooked at myself. New wrinkles—or maybe just a deepening of the oldones. It was beginning to show; the past two years were leaving traces.     I hadn't worried about my appearance when I'd been with the Office ofWeapons. There, I'd been able to keep pretty much to myself, doingresearch on magnetic mechanics as applied to space drive. But otherjobs, where you had to be among people, might be different. I neededevery possible thing in my favor.     Yes, I still hoped for a job, even after two years. I still meant tokeep on plugging, making the rounds.     I'd go out again today.     The timer clicked and my egg was ready. I swallowed the tablets andthen took the egg to the table to savor it and make it last.     As I leaned forward to sit, the metal tag dangled from my neck,catching the glowlight. My identity tag.     Everything came back in a rush—     My name. The dream and      her     voice. And her suggestion.       Would I dare? Would I start out this very morning and take the risk,the terrible risk?    <doc-sep>You remember renumbering. Two years ago. You remember how it was then;how everybody looked forward to his new designation, and how everybodymade jokes about the way the letters came out, and how all the recordswere for a while fouled up beyond recognition.     The telecomics kidded renumbering. One went a little too far andthey psycho-scanned him and then sent him to Marscol as a dangerousnonconform.     If you were disappointed with your new designation, you didn'tcomplain. You didn't want a sudden visit from the Deacons during thenight.     There had to be renumbering. We all understood that. With thepopulation of Northem already past two billion, the old designationswere too clumsy. Renumbering was efficient. It contributed to the goodof Northem. It helped advance the warless struggle with Southem.     The equator is the boundary. I understand that once there wasa political difference and that the two superstates sprawledlongitudinally, not latitudinally, over the globe. Now they are prettymuch the same. There is the truce, and they are both geared for war.They are both efficient states, as tightly controlled as an experimentwith enzymes, as microsurgery, as the temper of a diplomat.     We were renumbered, then, in Northem. You know the system: everybodynow has six digits and an additional prefix or suffix of four letters.Stateleader, for instance, has the designation AAAA-111/111. Now, toaddress somebody by calling off four letters is a little clumsy. We tryto pronounce them when they are pronounceable. That is, no one says toStateleader, Good morning, A-A-A-A. They say, Good morning, Aaaa.     Reading the last quote, I notice a curious effect. It says what I feel.Of course I didn't feel that way on that particular morning. I wasstill conformal; the last thing in my mind was that I would infract andbe psycho-scanned.     Four letters then, and in many cases a pronounceable four letter word.     A four letter word.     Yes, you suspect already. You know what a four letter word can be.     Mine was.     It was unspeakable.     The slight weight on my forehead reminded me that I still wore mysleep-learner. I'd been studying administrative cybernetics, hoping toqualify in that field, although it was a poor substitute for a spacedrive expert. I removed the band and stepped across the room andturned off the oscillator. I went back to my egg and my bitter memories.     I will never forget the first day I received my new four lettercombination and reported it to my chief, as required. I was unthinkablyembarrassed. He didn't say anything. He just swallowed and chokedand became crimson when he saw it. He didn't dare pass it to hissecretarial engineer; he went to the administrative circuits andregistered it himself.     I can't blame him for easing me out. He was trying to run an efficientorganization, after all, and no doubt I upset its efficiency. My workwas important—magnetic mechanics was the only way to handle quantareaction, or the so-called non-energy drive, and was therefore theanswer to feasible space travel beyond our present limit of Mars—andthere were frequent inspection tours by Big Wheels and Very ImportantPersons.     Whenever anyone, especially a woman, asked my name, the embarrassmentwould become a crackling electric field all about us. The best tacticwas just not to answer.  <doc-sep>   HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS     By JIM HARMON     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Every lonely man tries to make friends.     Manet just didn't know when to stop!      William Manet was alone.     In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It wouldgive him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlateloneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take himto start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to beginteaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminablelectures to a bored and captive audience of one.     He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whetherit was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and asdirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal andthink more like a god than any man for generations.     But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearingbore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.     Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was alreadytalking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he hadcut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up andwinked at it whenever he passed that way.     Lately she was winking back at him.     Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh fromhis arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.     No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manetcould only be this lonely on Mars.     Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.     All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middleof the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat,flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in theblack sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moonsand one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The wholegimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one wasneeded here—no human being, at least.     The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn'ttake much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefullyspecified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycombMars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.     They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated peoplefor the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going toisolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manetand his fellows.     The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fareto Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuterservice for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodationsfor couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren'tproviding fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits betweenthe various Overseers. They weren't very providential.     But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offeredwonderful opportunities.     It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship makinga tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning asbright as envy.  <doc-sep>The first thing about the derelict that struck us as we drew near washer size. No ship ever built in the Foundation Yards had ever attainedsuch gargantuan proportions. She must have stretched a full thousandfeet from bow to stern, a sleek torpedo shape of somehow unspeakablealienness. Against the backdrop of the Milky Way, she gleamed fitfullyin the light of the faraway sun, the metal of her flanks grained withsomething like tiny, glittering whorls. It was as though the stuffwere somehow unstable ... seeking balance ... maybe even alive in somestrange and alien way.     It was readily apparent to all of us that she had never been built forinter-planetary flight. She was a starship. Origin unknown. An aura ofmystery surrounded her like a shroud, protecting the world that gaveher birth mutely but effectively. The distance she must have come wasunthinkable. And the time it had taken...? Aeons. Millennia. For shewas drifting, dead in space, slowly spinning end over end as she swungabout Sol in a hyperbolic orbit that would soon take her out and awayagain into the inter-stellar deeps.     Something had wounded her ... perhaps ten million years ago ... perhapsyesterday. She was gashed deeply from stem to stern with a jagged ripthat bared her mangled innards. A wandering asteroid? A meteor? Wewould never know. It gave me an uncomfortable feeling of things beyondthe ken of men as I looked at her through the port. I would never knowwhat killed her, or where she was going, or whence she came. Yet shewas mine. It made me feel like an upstart. And it made me afraid ...but of what?     We should have reported her to the nearest EMV base, but that wouldhave meant that we'd lose her. Scientists would be sent out. Men betterequipped than we to investigate the first extrasolar artifact found bymen. But I didn't report her. She was ours. She was money in the bank.Let the scientists take over after we'd put a prize crew aboard andbrought her into Callisto for salvage.... That's the way I had thingsfigured.     The Maid hove to about a hundred yards from her and hung there, dwarfedby the mighty glistening ship. I called for volunteers and we prepareda boarding party. I was thinking that her drives alone would be worthmillions. Cohn took charge and he and three of the men suited up andcrossed to her.     In an hour they were back, disappointment largely written on theirfaces.     There's nothing left of her, Captain, Cohn reported, Whatever hither tore up the innards so badly we couldn't even find the drives.She's a mess inside. Nothing left but the hull and a few storagecompartments that are still unbroken.     She was never built to carry humanoids he told us, and there wasnothing that could give us a hint of where she had come from. The hullalone was left.     He dropped two chunks of metal on my desk. I brought back some samplesof her pressure hull, he said, The whole thing is made of thisstuff....     We'll still take her in, I said, hiding my disappointment. Thecarcass will be worth money in Callisto. Have Mister Marvin andZaleski assemble a spare pulse-jet. We'll jury-rig her and bring herdown under her own power. You take charge of provisioning her. Checkthose compartments you found and install oxy-generators aboard. Whenit's done report to me in my quarters.     I picked up the two samples of gleaming metal and called for ametallurgical testing kit. I'm going to try and find out if this stuffis worth anything....     The metal was heavy—too heavy, it seemed to me, for spaceshipconstruction. But then, who was to say what conditions existed on thatdistant world where this metal was made?     Under the bright fluorescent over my work-table, the chunks of metaltorn from a random bulkhead of the starship gleamed like pale silver;those strange little whorls that I had noticed on the outer hull werethere too, like tiny magnetic lines of force, making the surface ofthe metal seem to dance. I held the stuff in my bare hand.      It had ayellowish tinge, and it was heavier     ....     Even as I watched, the metal grew yellower, and the hand that heldit grew bone weary, little tongues of fatigue licking up my forearm.Suddenly terrified, I dropped the chunk as though it were white hot. Itstruck the table with a dull thud and lay there, a rich yellow lump ofmetallic lustre.     For a long while I just sat and stared. Then I began testing, tryingall the while to quiet the trembling of my hands. I weighed it on abalance. I tested it with acids. It had changed unquestionably. Itwas no longer the same as when I had carried it into my quarters. Thewhorls of force were gone. It was no longer alive with a questingvibrancy ... it was inert, stable. From somewhere, somehow, it haddrawn the energy necessary for transmutation. The unknown metal—thestuff of which that whole mammoth spaceship from the stars wasbuilt—was now....       Gold!       I scarcely dared believe it, but there it was staring at me from mytable-top.      Gold!       I searched my mind for an explanation. Contra-terrene matter, perhaps,from some distant island universe where matter reacted differently ...drawing energy from somewhere, the energy it needed to find stabilityin its new environment. Stability as a terrene element—wonderfully,miraculously gold!     And outside, in the void beyond the Maid's ports there were tons ofthis metal that could be turned into treasure. My laughter must havebeen a wild sound in those moments of discovery....  <doc-sep>She was pink and clean and her platinum hair was pulled straight back,drawing her cheek-bones tighter, straightening her wide, appealingmouth, drawing her lean, athletic, feminine body erect. She was wearinga powder-blue dress that covered all of her breasts and hips and theupper half of her legs.     The most wonderful thing about her was her perfume. Then I realized itwasn't perfume, only the scent of soap. Finally, I knew it wasn't that.It was just healthy, fresh-scrubbed skin.     I went to her at the bus stop, forcing my legs not to stagger. Nobodywould help a drunk. I don't know why, but nobody will help you if theythink you are blotto.     Ma'am, could you help a man who's not had work? I kept my eyes down.I couldn't look a human in the eye and ask for help. Just a dime for acup of coffee. I knew where I could get it for three cents, maybe twoand a half.     I felt her looking at me. She spoke in an educated voice, one she used,perhaps, as a teacher or supervising telephone operator. Do you wantit for coffee, or to apply, or a glass or hypo of something else?     I cringed and whined. She would expect it of me. I suddenly realizedthat anybody as clean as she was had to be a tourist here. I hatetourists.     Just coffee, ma'am. She was younger than I was, so I didn't have tocall her that. A little more for food, if you could spare it.     I hadn't eaten in a day and a half, but I didn't care much.     I'll buy you a dinner, she said carefully, provided I can go withyou and see for myself that you actually eat it.     I felt my face flushing red. You wouldn't want to be seen with a bumlike me, ma'am.     I'll be seen with you if you really want to eat.     It was certainly unfair and probably immoral. But I had no choicewhatever.     Okay, I said, tasting bitterness over the craving.  <doc-sep>A few weeks of this and I became a bit dazed.     And then there was the problem of everyday existence. You might sayit's lucky to be an N/P for a while. I've heard people say that. Basicneeds provided, worlds of leisure time; on the surface it soundsattractive.     But let me give you an example. Say it is monthly realfood day. You goto the store, your mouth already watering in anticipation. You takeyour place in line and wait for your package. The distributor takesyour coupon book and is all ready to reach for your package—and thenhe sees the fatal letters N/P. Non-Producer. A drone, a drain upon theState. You can see his stare curdle. He scowls at the book again.     Not sure this is in order. Better go to the end of the line. We'llcheck it later.     You know what happens before the end of the line reaches the counter.No more packages.     Well, I couldn't get myself off N/P status until I got a post, andwith my name I      couldn't     get a post.     Nor could I change my name. You know what happens when you try tochange something already on the records. The very idea of wantingchange implies criticism of the State. Unthinkable behavior.     That was why this curious dream voice shocked me so. The thing that itsuggested was quite as embarrassing as its non-standard, emotional,provocative tone.     Bear with me; I'm getting to the voice—to      her     —in a moment.     I want to tell you first about the loneliness, the terrible loneliness.I could hardly join group games at any of the rec centers. I could joinno special interest clubs or even State Loyalty chapters. Although Idabbled with theoretical research in my own quarters, I could scarcelysubmit any findings for publication—not with my name attached. Apseudonym would have been non-regulation and illegal.     But there was the worst thing of all. I could not mate.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in I, the Unspeakable?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the State's involvement in the Northem according to I, the Unspeakable? [SEP] <s>You remember renumbering. Two years ago. You remember how it was then;how everybody looked forward to his new designation, and how everybodymade jokes about the way the letters came out, and how all the recordswere for a while fouled up beyond recognition.     The telecomics kidded renumbering. One went a little too far andthey psycho-scanned him and then sent him to Marscol as a dangerousnonconform.     If you were disappointed with your new designation, you didn'tcomplain. You didn't want a sudden visit from the Deacons during thenight.     There had to be renumbering. We all understood that. With thepopulation of Northem already past two billion, the old designationswere too clumsy. Renumbering was efficient. It contributed to the goodof Northem. It helped advance the warless struggle with Southem.     The equator is the boundary. I understand that once there wasa political difference and that the two superstates sprawledlongitudinally, not latitudinally, over the globe. Now they are prettymuch the same. There is the truce, and they are both geared for war.They are both efficient states, as tightly controlled as an experimentwith enzymes, as microsurgery, as the temper of a diplomat.     We were renumbered, then, in Northem. You know the system: everybodynow has six digits and an additional prefix or suffix of four letters.Stateleader, for instance, has the designation AAAA-111/111. Now, toaddress somebody by calling off four letters is a little clumsy. We tryto pronounce them when they are pronounceable. That is, no one says toStateleader, Good morning, A-A-A-A. They say, Good morning, Aaaa.     Reading the last quote, I notice a curious effect. It says what I feel.Of course I didn't feel that way on that particular morning. I wasstill conformal; the last thing in my mind was that I would infract andbe psycho-scanned.     Four letters then, and in many cases a pronounceable four letter word.     A four letter word.     Yes, you suspect already. You know what a four letter word can be.     Mine was.     It was unspeakable.     The slight weight on my forehead reminded me that I still wore mysleep-learner. I'd been studying administrative cybernetics, hoping toqualify in that field, although it was a poor substitute for a spacedrive expert. I removed the band and stepped across the room andturned off the oscillator. I went back to my egg and my bitter memories.     I will never forget the first day I received my new four lettercombination and reported it to my chief, as required. I was unthinkablyembarrassed. He didn't say anything. He just swallowed and chokedand became crimson when he saw it. He didn't dare pass it to hissecretarial engineer; he went to the administrative circuits andregistered it himself.     I can't blame him for easing me out. He was trying to run an efficientorganization, after all, and no doubt I upset its efficiency. My workwas important—magnetic mechanics was the only way to handle quantareaction, or the so-called non-energy drive, and was therefore theanswer to feasible space travel beyond our present limit of Mars—andthere were frequent inspection tours by Big Wheels and Very ImportantPersons.     Whenever anyone, especially a woman, asked my name, the embarrassmentwould become a crackling electric field all about us. The best tacticwas just not to answer.  <doc-sep>   I, the Unspeakable     By WALT SHELDON     Illustrated by LOUIS MARCHETTI     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction April 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       What's in a name? might be very dangerous     to ask in certain societies, in which sticks     and stones are also a big problem!      I fought to be awake. I was dreaming, but I think I must have blushed.I must have blushed in my sleep.           Do it!      she said.       Please do it! For me!          It was the voice that always came, low, intense, seductive, the soundof your hand on silk ... and to a citizen of Northem, a conformist, itwas shocking. I was a conformist then; I was still one that morning.     I awoke. The glowlight was on, slowly increasing. I was in my livingmachine in Center Four, where I belonged, and all the familiar thingswere about me, reality was back, but I was breathing very hard.     I lay on the pneumo a while before getting up. I looked at thechroner: 0703 hours, Day 17, Month IX, New Century Three. My morningnuro-tablets had already popped from the tube, and the timer had begunto boil an egg. The egg was there because the realfood allotment hadbeen increased last month. The balance of trade with Southem had justswung a decimal or two our way.     I rose finally, stepped to the mirror, switched it to positive andlooked at myself. New wrinkles—or maybe just a deepening of the oldones. It was beginning to show; the past two years were leaving traces.     I hadn't worried about my appearance when I'd been with the Office ofWeapons. There, I'd been able to keep pretty much to myself, doingresearch on magnetic mechanics as applied to space drive. But otherjobs, where you had to be among people, might be different. I neededevery possible thing in my favor.     Yes, I still hoped for a job, even after two years. I still meant tokeep on plugging, making the rounds.     I'd go out again today.     The timer clicked and my egg was ready. I swallowed the tablets andthen took the egg to the table to savor it and make it last.     As I leaned forward to sit, the metal tag dangled from my neck,catching the glowlight. My identity tag.     Everything came back in a rush—     My name. The dream and      her     voice. And her suggestion.       Would I dare? Would I start out this very morning and take the risk,the terrible risk?    <doc-sep>Edna didn't wake him, so they had a late lunch. Then he went back tothe barn and let the four cows and four sheep and two horses into thepastures. Then he checked to see that Edna had fed the chickens right.They had only a dozen or so now.     When had he sold the rest? And when had he sold his other livestock?     Or had they died somehow? A rough winter? Disease?     He stood in the yard, a tall, husky man with pale brown hair and a facethat had once been long, lean and strong and was now only long andlean. He blinked gray eyes and tried hard to remember, then turned andwent to the house. Edna was soaking dishes in the sink, according toregulations—one sinkful of dishwater a day. And one tub of bath watertwice a week.     She was looking at him. He realized his anger and confusion must beshowing. He managed a smile. You remember how much we got for ourlivestock, Edna?     Same as everyone else, she said. Government agents paid flat rates.     He remembered then, or thought he did. The headache was back. He wentupstairs and slept again, but this time he had dreams, many of them,and all confused and all frightening. He was glad to get up. And he wasglad to hear Walt and Gloria talking to Edna downstairs.     He washed his face, combed his hair and went down. Walt and Gloria weresitting on the sofa, Edna in the blue armchair. Walt was saying he'dgotten the new TV picture tube he'd ordered. Found it in the supplybin this morning. Spent the whole day installing it according to thebook of directions.     Harry said hi and they all said hi and he sat down and they talkedabout TV and gardens and livestock. Then Harry said, How's Penny?     Fine, Gloria answered. I'm starting her on the kindergarten booknext week.     She's five already? Harry asked.     Almost six, Walt said. Emergency Education Regulations state thatthe child should be five years nine months old before embarking onkindergarten book.     And Frances? Harry asked. Your oldest? She must be startinghigh.... He stopped, because they were all staring at him, and becausehe couldn't remember Frances clearly. Just a joke, he said, laughingand rising. Let's eat. I'm starved.  <doc-sep>She didn't answer; she kept her eyes straight ahead and I saw the faintspot of color on her cheek.     I had a sudden impulse to ask her to meet me after hours at oneof the rec centers. If it had been my danger alone, I might have,but I couldn't very well ask her to risk discovery of a haphazard,unauthorized arrangement like that and the possibility of going to thepsycho-scan.     We came to a turn in the corridor and something happened; I'm not surejust how it happened. I keep telling myself that my movements were notactually deliberate. I was to the right of her. The turn was to theleft. She turned quickly, and I didn't, so that I bumped into her,knocking her off balance. I grabbed her to keep her from falling.     For a moment we stood there, face to face, touching each other lightly.I held her by the arms. I felt the primitive warmth of her breath. Oureyes held together ... proton ... electron ... I felt her tremble.     She broke from my grip suddenly and started off again.     After that she was very business-like.     We came finally to the controls of Bank 29 and she stood before themand began to press button combinations. I watched her work; I watchedher move. I had almost forgotten why I'd come here. The lights blinkedon and off and the typers clacked softly as the machine sorted outinformation.     She had a long printed sheet from the roll presently. She frowned atit and turned to me. You can take this along and study it, she said,but I'm afraid what you have in mind may be—a little difficult.     She must have guessed what I had in mind. I said, I didn't think itwould be easy.     It seems that the only agency authorized to change a State Serialunder any circumstances is Opsych.     Opsych? You can't keep up with all these departments.     The Office of Psychological Adjustment. They can change you if you gofrom a lower to higher E.A.C.     I don't get it, exactly.     As she spoke I had the idea that there was sympathy in her voice. Justan overtone. Well, she said, as you know, the post a person isqualified to hold often depends largely on his Emotional AdjustmentCategory. Now if he improves and passes from, let us say, Grade 3 toGrade 4, he will probably change his place of work. In order to protecthim from any associative maladjustments developed under the old E.A.C,he is permitted a new number.     I groaned. But I'm already in the highest E.A.C.!     It looks very uncertain then.     Sometimes I think I'd be better off in the mines, or onMarscol—or—in the hell of the pre-atomics!     She looked amused. What did you say your E.A.C. was?     Oh, all right. Sorry. I controlled myself and grinned. I guess thiswhole thing has been just a little too much for me. Maybe my E.A.C.'seven gone down.     That might be your chance then.     How do you mean?     If you could get to the top man in Opsych and demonstrate that yournumber has inadvertently changed your E.A.C., he might be able tojustify a change.     By the State, he might! I punched my palm. Only how do I get to him?     I can find his location on the cyb here. Center One, the capital, fora guess. You'll have to get a travel permit to go there, of course.Just a moment.     She worked at the machine again, trying it on general data. The printedslip came out a moment later and she read it to me. Chief, Opsych, wasin the capital all right. It didn't give the exact location of hisoffice, but it did tell how to find the underground bay in Center Onecontaining the Opsych offices.     We headed back through the passageway then and she kept well ahead ofme. I couldn't keep my eyes from her walk, from the way she walked witheverything below her shoulders. My blood was pounding at my templesagain.     I tried to keep the conversation going. Do you think it'll be hard toget a travel permit?     Not impossible. My guess is that you'll be at Travbur all daytomorrow, maybe even the next day. But you ought to be able to swing itif you hold out long enough.     I sighed. I know. It's that way everywhere in Northem. Our motto oughtto be, 'Why make it difficult when with just a little more effort youcan make it impossible?'  <doc-sep>Well, the analogy breaks down there, said Stark. I was almostbeginning to believe in the thing. But if it isn't that, then what.Father Briton, you are the linguist, but in Hebrew does not Ha-Adamahand Hawwah mean—?     Of course they do. You know that as well as I.     I was never a believer. But would it be possible for the exact sameproposition to maintain here as on Earth?     All things are possible.     And it was then that Ha-Adamah, the shining man, gave a wild cry: No,no. Do not approach it. It is not allowed to eat of that one!     It was the pomegranate tree, and he was warning Langweilig away from it.     Once more, Father, said Stark, you should be the authority; but doesnot the idea that it was the apple that was forbidden go back only to amedieval painting?     It does. The name of the fruit is not mentioned in Genesis. In Hebrewexegesis, however, the pomegranate is usually indicated.     I thought so. Question the man further, Father. This is tooincredible.     It is a little odd. Adam, old man, how long have you been here?     Forever less six days is the answer that has been given to me. I neverdid understand the answer, however.     And have you gotten no older in all that time?     I do not understand what 'older' is. I am as I have been from thebeginning.     And do you think that you will ever die?     To die I do not understand. I am taught that it is a property offallen nature to die, and that does not pertain to me or mine.     And are you completely happy here?     Perfectly happy according to my preternatural state. But I am taughtthat it might be possible to lose that happiness, and then to seek itvainly through all the ages. I am taught that sickness and ageing andeven death could come if this happiness were ever lost. I am taughtthat on at least one other unfortunate world it has actually been lost.     Do you consider yourself a knowledgeable man?     Yes, since I am the only man, and knowledge is natural to man. But Iam further blessed. I have a preternatural intellect.     Then Stark cut in once more: There must be some one question you couldask him, Father. Some way to settle it. I am becoming nearly convinced.     Yes, there is a question that will settle it. Adam, old man, how abouta game of checkers?     This is hardly the time for clowning, said Stark.     I'm not clowning, Captain. How about it, Adam? I'll give you choice ofcolors and first move.     No. It would be no contest. I have a preternatural intellect.     Well, I beat a barber who was champion of Germantown. And I beat thechampion of Morgan County, Tennessee, which is the hottest checkercenter on Earth. I've played against, and beaten, machines. But Inever played a preternatural mind. Let's just set up the board, Adam,and have a go at it.     No. It would be no contest. I would not like to humble you.  <doc-sep>II     Si Pond was a great believer in the institution of the spree. Anyexcuse would do. Back when he had finished basic education at the ageof twenty-five and was registered for the labor draft, there hadn'tbeen a chance in a hundred that he'd have the bad luck to have hisname pulled. But when it had been, Si had celebrated.     When he had been informed that his physical and mental qualificationswere such that he was eligible for the most dangerous occupation inthe Ultrawelfare State and had been pressured into taking trainingfor space pilot, he had celebrated once again. Twenty-two others hadtaken the training with him, and only he and Rod Cameroon had passedthe finals. On this occasion, he and Rod had celebrated together. Ithad been quite a party. Two weeks later, Rod had burned on a faultytake-off on what should have been a routine Moon run.     Each time Si returned from one of his own runs, he celebrated. A spree,a bust, a bat, a wing-ding, a night on the town. A commemoration ofdangers met and passed.     Now it was all over. At the age of thirty he was retired. Law preventedhim from ever being called up for contributing to the country's laborneeds again. And he most certainly wasn't going to volunteer.     He had taken his schooling much as had his contemporaries. There wasn'tany particular reason for trying to excell. You didn't want to get thereputation for being a wise guy, or a cloddy either. Just one of thefellas. You could do the same in life whether you really studied ornot. You had your Inalienable Basic stock, didn't you? What else didyou need?     It had come as a surprise when he'd been drafted for the labor force.     In the early days of the Ultrawelfare State, they had made a mistakein adapting to the automation of the second industrial revolution.They had attempted to give everyone work by reducing the number ofworking hours in the day, and the number of working days in the week.It finally became ludicrous when employees of industry were workingbut two days a week, two hours a day. In fact, it got chaotic. Itbecame obvious that it was more practical to have one worker putting inthirty-five hours a week and getting to know his job well, than it wasto have a score of employees, each working a few hours a week and noneof them ever really becoming efficient.     The only fair thing was to let the technologically unemployed remainunemployed, with their Inalienable Basic stock as the equivalent ofunemployment insurance, while the few workers still needed put in areasonable number of hours a day, a reasonable number of weeks a yearand a reasonable number of years in a life time. When new employeeswere needed, a draft lottery was held.     All persons registered in the labor force participated. If youwere drawn, you must need serve. The dissatisfaction those chosenmight feel at their poor luck was offset by the fact that they weregranted additional Variable Basic shares, according to the tasksthey fulfilled. Such shares could be added to their portfolios, thedividends becoming part of their current credit balance, or could besold for a lump sum on the market.     Yes, but now it was all over. He had his own little place, his ownvacuum-tube vehicle and twice the amount of shares of Basic that mostof his fellow citizens could boast. Si Pond had it made. A spree wasobviously called for.     He was going to do this one right. This was the big one. He'daccumulated a lot of dollars these past few months and he intendedto blow them, or at least a sizeable number of them. His credit cardwas burning a hole in his pocket, as the expression went. However, hewasn't going to rush into things. This had to be done correctly.     Too many a spree was played by ear. You started off with a few drinks,fell in with some second rate mopsy and usually wound up in a thirdrate groggery where you spent just as much as though you'd been in theclassiest joint in town. Came morning and you had nothing to show forall the dollars that had been spent but a rum-head.     Thus, Si was vaguely aware, it had always been down through thecenturies since the Phoenecian sailor, back from his year-long trip tothe tin mines of Cornwall, blew his hard earned share of the voyage'sprofits in a matter of days in the wine shops of Tyre. Nobody getsquite so little for his money as that loneliest of all workers, he whomust leave his home for distant lands, returning only periodically andusually with the salary of lengthy, weary periods of time to be spenthurriedly in an attempt to achieve the pleasure and happiness so longdenied him.     Si was going to do it differently this time.     Nothing but the best. Wine, women, song, food, entertainment. Theworks. But nothing but the best.  <doc-sep>That's right, she said. Billions. Tunney, according to the notation,is near the center of the Galaxy, inside the third ring. You'vecovered about a third of the distance to it. Local traffic, anythingwithin a thousand light-years, is relatively easy to manage. At longerdistances, you take a chance. You've had yours and missed it. Frankly,Cassal, I don't know when another ship bound for Tunney will show up onor near Godolph. Within the next five years—maybe.  <doc-sep>   DELAY IN TRANSIT     By F. L. WALLACE     Illustrated by SIBLEY     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        An unprovoked, meaningless night attack is       terrifying enough on your own home planet, worse       on a world across the Galaxy. But the horror       is the offer of help that cannot be accepted!        Muscles tense, said Dimanche. Neural index 1.76, unusually high.Adrenalin squirting through his system. In effect, he's stalking you.Intent: probably assault with a deadly weapon.     Not interested, said Cassal firmly, his subvocalization inaudibleto anyone but Dimanche. I'm not the victim type. He was standing onthe walkway near the brink of the thoroughfare. I'm going back to thehabitat hotel and sit tight.     First you have to get there, Dimanche pointed out. I mean, is itsafe for a stranger to walk through the city?     Now that you mention it, no, answered Cassal. He looked aroundapprehensively. Where is he?       Behind you. At the moment he's pretending interest in a merchandisedisplay.     A native stamped by, eyes brown and incurious. Apparently he wasaccustomed to the sight of an Earthman standing alone, Adam's applebobbing up and down silently. It was a Godolphian axiom that alltravelers were crazy.     Cassal looked up. Not an air taxi in sight; Godolph shut down at dusk.It would be pure luck if he found a taxi before morning. Of course he      could     walk back to the hotel, but was that such a good idea?     A Godolphian city was peculiar. And, though not intended, it waspeculiarly suited to certain kinds of violence. A human pedestrian wasat a definite disadvantage.     Correction, said Dimanche. Not simple assault. He has murder inmind.     It still doesn't appeal to me, said Cassal. Striving to lookunconcerned, he strolled toward the building side of the walkway andstared into the interior of a small cafe. Warm, bright and dry. Inside,he might find safety for a time.     Damn the man who was following him! It would be easy enough to eludehim in a normal city. On Godolph, nothing was normal. In an hour thestreets would be brightly lighted—for native eyes. A human wouldconsider it dim.     Why did he choose me? asked Cassal plaintively. There must besomething he hopes to gain.     I'm working on it, said Dimanche. But remember, I have limitations.At short distances I can scan nervous systems, collect and interpretphysiological data. I can't read minds. The best I can do is reportwhat a person says or subvocalizes. If you're really interested infinding out why he wants to kill you, I suggest you turn the problemover to the godawful police.     Godolph, not godawful, corrected Cassal absently.     That was advice he couldn't follow, good as it seemed. He could givethe police no evidence save through Dimanche. There were variousreasons, many of them involving the law, for leaving the device calledDimanche out of it. The police would act if they found a body. His own,say, floating face-down on some quiet street. That didn't seem theproper approach, either.     Weapons?     The first thing I searched him for. Nothing very dangerous. A longknife, a hard striking object. Both concealed on his person.     Cassal strangled slightly. Dimanche needed a good stiff course insemantics. A knife was still the most silent of weapons. A man coulddie from it. His hand strayed toward his pocket. He had a measure ofprotection himself.     Report, said Dimanche. Not necessarily final. Based, perhaps, ontenuous evidence.     Let's have it anyway.     His motivation is connected somehow with your being marooned here. Forsome reason you can't get off this planet.     That was startling information, though not strictly true. A thousandstar systems were waiting for him, and a ship to take him to each one.     Of course, the one ship he wanted hadn't come in. Godolph was atransfer point for stars nearer the center of the Galaxy. When hehad left Earth, he had known he would have to wait a few days here.He hadn't expected a delay of nearly three weeks. Still, it wasn'tunusual. Interstellar schedules over great distances were not asreliable as they might be.     Was this man, whoever and whatever he might be, connected withthat delay? According to Dimanche, the man thought he was. He wasself-deluded or did he have access to information that Cassal didn't?  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the State's involvement in the Northem according to I, the Unspeakable?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the connection between the protagonist and the enigmatic voice in his dreams in the story ""I, the Unspeakable""? [SEP] <s>   I, the Unspeakable     By WALT SHELDON     Illustrated by LOUIS MARCHETTI     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction April 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       What's in a name? might be very dangerous     to ask in certain societies, in which sticks     and stones are also a big problem!      I fought to be awake. I was dreaming, but I think I must have blushed.I must have blushed in my sleep.           Do it!      she said.       Please do it! For me!          It was the voice that always came, low, intense, seductive, the soundof your hand on silk ... and to a citizen of Northem, a conformist, itwas shocking. I was a conformist then; I was still one that morning.     I awoke. The glowlight was on, slowly increasing. I was in my livingmachine in Center Four, where I belonged, and all the familiar thingswere about me, reality was back, but I was breathing very hard.     I lay on the pneumo a while before getting up. I looked at thechroner: 0703 hours, Day 17, Month IX, New Century Three. My morningnuro-tablets had already popped from the tube, and the timer had begunto boil an egg. The egg was there because the realfood allotment hadbeen increased last month. The balance of trade with Southem had justswung a decimal or two our way.     I rose finally, stepped to the mirror, switched it to positive andlooked at myself. New wrinkles—or maybe just a deepening of the oldones. It was beginning to show; the past two years were leaving traces.     I hadn't worried about my appearance when I'd been with the Office ofWeapons. There, I'd been able to keep pretty much to myself, doingresearch on magnetic mechanics as applied to space drive. But otherjobs, where you had to be among people, might be different. I neededevery possible thing in my favor.     Yes, I still hoped for a job, even after two years. I still meant tokeep on plugging, making the rounds.     I'd go out again today.     The timer clicked and my egg was ready. I swallowed the tablets andthen took the egg to the table to savor it and make it last.     As I leaned forward to sit, the metal tag dangled from my neck,catching the glowlight. My identity tag.     Everything came back in a rush—     My name. The dream and      her     voice. And her suggestion.       Would I dare? Would I start out this very morning and take the risk,the terrible risk?    <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>They started off down the canyon, Syme urging the slighter man toa fast clip, even though his leg was already stiffening. When theyfinally reached a climbable spot, Syme was limping badly and Tate wasobviously exhausted.     They clambered wearily out onto the level sands again just as thesmall, blazing sun was setting. Luck, grunted Syme. Our only chanceof getting near the city is at night. He peered around, shading hiseyes from the sun's glare with a gauntleted hand. See that?     Following his pointing finger, Tate saw a faint, ephemeral arc showingabove a line of low hills in the distance. Kal-Jmar, said Syme.     Tate brightened a little. His body was too filled with fatigue for hismind to do any work on the problem that was baffling him, and so itreceded into the back of his mind.     Kal-Jmar, whispered Syme again.     There was no twilight. The sun dropped abruptly behind the low horizon,and darkness fell, sudden and absolute. Syme picked up the extra oxygentank and the suitcase, checked his direction by a wrist compass, andstarted toward the hills. Tate rose wearily to his feet and followedagain.     Two hours later, Kal-Jmar stood before them. They had wormed theirway past the sentry posts, doing most of the last two hundred meterson all fours. With skill and luck, and with Syme's fierce, burningdetermination, they had managed to escape detection—and there theywere. Journey's end.     Tate stared up at the shining, starlight towers in speechlessadmiration. If the people who had built this city had been decadent,still their architecture was magnificent. The city was a rhapsody madesolid. There was a sense of decay about it, he thought, but it was thedecay of supreme beauty, caught at the very verge of dissolution andpreserved for all eternity.     Well? demanded Syme.     Tate started, shaken out of his dream. He looked down at the blacksuitcase, a little wonderingly, and then pulled it to him and opened it.     Inside, carefully wrapped in shock-absorbing tissue, was a fragilecontrivance of many tubes and wires, and a tiny parabolic mirror. Ithad a brand new Elecorp 210 volt battery, and it needed every volt ofthat tremendous power. Tate made the connections, his hands tremblingslightly, and set it up on a telescoping tripod. Syme watched himclosely, his big body tensed with expectation.     The field was before them, shimmering faintly in the starlight. Itlooked unsubstantial as the stuff of dreams, but both men knew that nopower man possessed, unless it was the thing Tate held, could penetratethat screen.     Tate set the mechanism up close to the field, aimed it very delicately,and closed a minute switch. After a long second, he opened it again.     Nothing happened.     The screen was still there, as unsubstantial and as solid as ever.There was no change.  <doc-sep>What the devil are you doing here on Venus and here in this place?     Growing. The blue eyes were unafraid.     Sombrely, Johnson regarded her. What was she doing here? Was she inthe employ of the Venusians? If she was being planted on him, thenhis purpose here was suspected. He shrugged the thought aside. If hispurpose here was suspected, there would be no point in planting a womanon him.     There would only be the minor matter of slipping a knife into his back.     In this city, as on all of Venus, humans died easily. No one questionedthe motives of the killer.     You look as if you were considering some very grave matter, Vee Veesaid.     Not any longer, he laughed.     You have decided them?     Yes.     Every last one of them?     Oh, there might be one or two matters undecided somewhere, say out onthe periphery of the galaxy. But we will solve them when we get tothem. He waved vaguely toward the roof and the sky of space hiddenbehind the clouds that lay over the roof, glanced around as a man easedhimself into an empty stool on his left. The man was Caldwell.     Zlock! Caldwell said, to the bartender. Make it snappy. Gotta havezlock. Finest damn drink in the solar system. Caldwell's voice wasthick, his tongue heavy. Johnson's eyes went back to the girl but outof the corner of them he watched Caldwell's hand lying on the bar. Thefingers were beating a quick nervous tattoo on the yellow wood.     I haven't seen him, Caldwell's fingers beat out their tattoo. But Ithink he is, or was, here.     Um, Johnson said, his eyes on Vee Vee. How—     Because that girl was asking for him, Caldwell's fingers answered.Watch that girl! Picking up the zlock, he lurched away from the bar.     Your friend is not as drunk as he seems, Vee Vee said, watchingCaldwell.     My friend? Do you mean that drunk? I never saw him—     Lying is one of the deadly sins. Her eyes twinkled at him. Under themerriment that danced in them there was ice. Johnson felt cold.     The reservations for ze dreaming, great one? The headwaiter wasbowing and scraping in front of him. The great one has decided, yes?     The dreaming! Vee Vee looked suddenly alert. Of course. We must seethe dreaming. Everyone wants to see the dreaming. We will go, won't wedarling? She hooked her hand into Johnson's elbow.     Certainly, Johnson said. The decision was made on the spur of themoment. That there was danger in it, he did not doubt. But there mightbe something else. And      he     might be there.     Oh. But very good. Ze great Unger, you will love him! The headwaiterclutched the gold coins that Johnson extended, bowed himself out ofsight.     Say, I want to know more— Johnson began. His words were drowned ina blast of trumpets. The band that had been playing went into suddensilence. Waves of perfume began to flow into the place. The perfumeswere blended, but one aroma was prominent among them, the sweet,cloying, soul-stirring perfume of the Dreamer.     In the suddenly hushed place little sounds began to appear as Venusiansand humans began to shift their feet and their bodies in anticipationof what was to happen.     The trumpets flared again.     On one side of the place, a big door began to swing slowly open. Frombeyond that slowly opening door came music, soft, muted strains thatsounded like lutes from heaven.     Vee Vee, her hand on Johnson's elbow, rose. Johnson stood up withher. He got the surprise of his life as her fingers clenched, digginginto his muscles. Pain shot through his arm, paralyzing it and almostparalyzing him. He knew instantly that she was using the Karmer nerveblock paralysis on him. His left hand moved with lightning speed, thetips of his fingers striking savagely against her shoulder.     She gasped, her face whitened as pain shot through her in response tothe thrust of his finger tips. Her hand that had been digging into hiselbow lost its grip, dropped away and hung limp at her side. Grabbingit, she began to massage it.     You—you— Hot anger and shock were in her voice. You're the firstman I ever knew who could break the Karmer nerve paralysis.     And you're the first woman who ever tried it on me.     But—     Shall we go watch the dreaming? He took the arm that still hung limpat her side and tucked it into his elbow.     If you try to use the Karmer grip on me again I'll break your arm, hesaid. His voice was low but there was a wealth of meaning in it.     I won't do it again, the girl said stoutly. I never make the samemistake twice.     Good, Johnson said.     The second time we break our victim's neck, Vee Vee said.     What a sweet, charming child you—     I told you before, I'm not a child.     Child vampire, Johnson said. Let me finish my sentences before youinterrupt.     She was silent. A smile, struggling to appear on her face, seemed tosay she held no malice. Her fingers tightened on Johnson's arm. Hetensed, expecting the nerve block grip again. Instead with the tips ofher fingers she gently patted his arm.     There, there, darling, relax, she said. I know a better way to getyou than by using the Karmer grip.     What way?     Her eyes sparkled. Eve's way, she answered.     Um! Surprise sounded in his grunt. But apples don't grow on Venus.     Eve's daughters don't use apples any more, darling. Come along.     Moving toward the open door that led to the Room of the Dreaming,Johnson saw that Caldwell had risen and was following them. Caldwell'sface was writhing in apprehensive agony and he was making warningsigns. Johnson ignored them. With Vee Vee's fingers lightly patting hisarm, they moved into the Room of the Dreaming.      II     It was a huge, semi-illumined room, with tier on tier of circling rampsrising up from an open space at the bottom. There ought to have beena stage there at the bottom, but there wasn't. Instead there was anopen space, a mat, and a head rest. Up at the top of the circling rampsthe room was in darkness, a fit hiding place for ghosts or Venusianwerewolves. Pillows and a thick rug covered the circling ramps.     The soul-quickening Perfume of the Dreamer was stronger here. Thethrobbing of the lutes was louder. It was Venusian music the lutes wereplaying. Human ears found it inharmonious at first, but as they becameaccustomed to it, they began to detect rhythms and melodies that humanminds had not known existed. The room was pleasantly cool but it hadthe feel of dampness. A world that was rarely without pelting rainwould have the feel of dampness in its dreaming rooms.     The music playing strange harmonies in his ears, the perfume sendingtingling feelings through his nose, Johnson entered the Room of theDreamer. He suspected that other forces, unknown to him, were catchinghold of his senses. He had been in dreaming rooms many times before buthe had not grown accustomed to them. He wondered if any human everdid. A touch of chill always came over him as he crossed the threshold.In entering these places, it was as if some unknown nerve centerinside the human organism was touched by something, some force, someradiation, some subtlety, that quite escaped radiation. He felt thecoldness now.     Vee Vee's fingers left off patting his arm.     Do you feel it, darling?     Yes.     What is it?     How would I know?     Please! Her voice grew sharp. I think Johnny Johnson ought to know.     Johnny! How do you know my name?     Shouldn't I recognize one of Earth's foremost scientists, even if heis incognito on Venus? Her voice had a teasing quality in it.     But—     And who besides Johnny Johnson would recognize the Karmer nerve gripand be able to break it instantly?     Hell—     John Michael Johnson, known as Johnny to his friends, Earth's foremostexpert in the field of electro-magnetic radiations within the humanbody! Her words were needles of icy fact, each one jabbing deeper anddeeper into him.     And how would I make certain you were Johnny Johnson, except by seeingif you could break the Karmer nerve grip? If you could break it, thenthere was no doubt who you were! Her words went on and on.     Who are you? His words were blasts of sound.     Please, darling, you are making a scene. I am sure this is the lastthing you really want to do.     He looked quickly around them. The Venusians and humans moving intothis room seemed to be paying no attention to him. His gaze came backto her.     Again she patted his arm. Relax, darling. Your secrets are safe withme.     A gray color came up inside his soul. But—but— His voice wassuddenly weak.     The fingers on his arm were very gentle. No harm will come to you. AmI not with you?     That's what I'm afraid of! he snapped at her. If he had had achoice, he might have drawn back. But with circumstances as theywere—his life, Caldwell's life, possibly Vee Vee's life hung in thebalance. Didn't she know that this was true? And as for Martin—ButCaldwell had said that she had been asking about Martin. Whatconnection did she have with that frantic human genius he sought here?     Johnson felt his skin crawl. He moved toward a nest of cushions ona ramp, found a Venusian was beating him to them, deftly changed toanother nest, found it. Vee Vee flowed to the floor on his right, movedcushions to make him more comfortable. She moved in an easy sort of waythat was all flowing movement. He sat down. Someone bumped him on theleft.     Sorry, bud. Didn't mean to bump into you. Caldwell's voice was stillthick and heavy. He sprawled to the floor on Johnson's left. Underthe man's coat, Johnson caught a glimpse of a slight bulge, the zitgun hidden there. His left arm pressed against his own coat, feelinghis own zit gun. Operating under gas pressure, throwing a charge ofgas-driven corvel, the zit guns were not only almost noiseless inoperation but they knocked out a human or a Venusian in a matter ofseconds.     True, the person they knocked unconscious would be all right the nextday. For this reason, many people did not regard the zit guns aseffective weapons, but Johnson had a fondness for them. The feel of thelittle weapon inside his coat sent a surge of comfort through him.     The music picked up a beat, perfume seemed to flow even more freelythrough the air, the lights dimmed almost to darkness, a single brightspotlight appeared in the ceiling, casting a circle of brilliantillumination on the mat and the headrest at the bottom of the room. Thecurtain rose.  <doc-sep>The problem of where to put the line between dream and reality began toworry Bruce. He would wake up and listen and take down what Terrencewas saying, and then go to sleep again with increasing expectancy. Hisdream took on continuity. He could return to the point where he hadleft it, and it was the same—allowing even for the time differencenecessitated by his periods of sleep.     He met people in the dreams, two girls and a man. They had names:Pietro, Marlene, Helene.     Helene he had seen from the beginning, but she became more real tohim all the time, until he could talk with her. After that, he couldalso talk with Marlene and Pietro, and the conversations made sense.Consistently, they made sense.     The Martian landscape was entirely different in the dreams. Greenvalleys and rivers, or actually wide canals, with odd trees trailingtheir branches on the slow, peacefully gliding currents. Here and therewere pastel-colored cities and there were things drifting through themthat were alive and intelligent and soft and warm and wonderful to know.     '      ... dreams, in their vivid coloring of life, as in that fleeting,shadowy, misty strife of semblance with reality which brings to thedelirious eye more lovely things of paradise and love—and all ourown!—than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known....     '     So sometimes he read poetry, but even that was hardly equal to thedreams.     And then he would wake up and listen to Terrence's voice. He wouldlook out the window over the barren frigid land where there was nothingbut seams of worn land, like scabs under the brazen sky.     If I had a choice, he thought, I wouldn't ever wake up at all again.The dreams may not be more real, but they're preferable.     Dreams were supposed to be wishful thinking, primarily, but hecouldn't live in them very long. His body would dry up and he woulddie. He had to stay awake enough to put a little energy back intohimself. Of course, if he died and lost the dreams, there would be onecompensation—he would also be free of Terrence and the rest of themwho had learned that the only value in life lay in killing one's wayacross the Cosmos.     But then he had a feeling Terrence's voice wouldn't be annoying himmuch more anyway. The voice was unreal, coming out of some void. Hecould switch off Terrence any time now, but he was still curious.     Bruce—Bruce, you still there? Listen, we're up here at what we figureto be five hundred thousand feet! It      is     impossible. We keep climbingand now we look up and we can see up and up and there the mountain isgoing up and up—     And some time later: Bruce, Marsha's dying! We don't know what's thematter. We can't find any reason for it. She's lying here and she keepslaughing and calling your name. She's a woman, so that's probably it.Women don't have real guts.     Bruce bent toward the radio. Outside the shelter, the wind whistledsoftly at the door.     Marsha, he said.     Bruce—     She hadn't said his name that way for a long time.     Marsha, remember how we used to talk about human values? I rememberhow you seemed to have something maybe different from the others. Inever thought you'd really buy this will to conquer, and now it doesn'tmatter....     He listened to her voice, first the crazy laughter, and then a whisper.Bruce, hello down there. Her voice was all mixed up with fear andhysteria and mockery. Bruce darling, are you lonely down there? I wishI were with you, safe ... free ... warm. I love you. Do you hear that?I really love you, after all. After all....       Her voice drifted away, came back to him. We're climbing the highestmountain. What are you doing there, relaxing where it's peaceful andwarm and sane? You always were such a calm guy. I remember now. Whatare you doing—reading poetry while we climb the mountain? What wasthat, Bruce—that one about the mountain you tried to quote to me lastnight before you ... I can't remember it now. Darling, what...?  <doc-sep>The old man stared at the door, an obsolete visual projector wobblingprecariously on his head. He closed his eyes and the lettering on thedoor disappeared. Cassal was too far away to see what it had been. Thetechnician opened his eyes and concentrated. Slowly a new sign formedon the door.     TRAVELERS AID BUREAU     Murra Foray, First Counselor     It was a drab sign, but, then, it was a dismal, backward planet. Theold technician passed on to the next door and closed his eyes again.     With a sinking feeling, Cassal walked toward the entrance. He neededhelp and he had to find it in this dingy rathole.     Inside, though, it wasn't dingy and it wasn't a rathole. More like amaze, an approved scientific one. Efficient, though not comfortable.Travelers Aid was busier than he thought it would be. Eventually hemanaged to squeeze into one of the many small counseling rooms.     A woman appeared on the screen, crisp and cool. Please answereverything the machine asks. When the tape is complete, I'll beavailable for consultation.     Cassal wasn't sure he was going to like her. Is this necessary? heasked. It's merely a matter of information.     We have certain regulations we abide by. The woman smiled frostily.I can't give you any information until you comply with them.     Sometimes regulations are silly, said Cassal firmly. Let me speak tothe first counselor.     You are speaking to her, she said. Her face disappeared from thescreen.     Cassal sighed. So far he hadn't made a good impression.     Travelers Aid Bureau, in addition to regulations, was abundantlysupplied with official curiosity. When the machine finished with him,Cassal had the feeling he could be recreated from the record it had ofhim. His individuality had been capsuled into a series of questions andanswers. One thing he drew the line at—why he wanted to go to Tunney21 was his own business.     The first counselor reappeared. Age, indeterminate. Not, he supposed,that anyone would be curious about it. Slightly taller than average,rather on the slender side. Face was broad at the brow, narrow at thechin and her eyes were enigmatic. A dangerous woman.  <doc-sep>Unger stood in the middle of the spot of light.     Johnson felt his chest muscles contract, then relax. Vee Vee's fingerssought his arm, not to harm him but running to him for protection. Hecaught the flutter of her breathing. On his left, Caldwell stiffenedand became a rock.     Johnson had not seen Unger appear. One second the circle of lighthad been empty, the next second the Venusian, smiling with all theimpassivity of a bland Buddha, was in the light. He weighed threehundred pounds if he weighed an ounce, he was clad in a long robethat would impede movement. He had appeared in the bright beam of thespotlight as if by magic.     Vee Vee's fingers dug deeper into Johnson's arm. How—     Shhh. Nobody knows.     No human knew the answer to that trick. Unless perhaps Martin—     Unger bowed. A little ripple of something that was not quite soundpassed through the audience. Unger bowed again. He stretched himselfflat on the mat, adjusted the rest to support his head, and apparentlywent to sleep. Johnson saw the Dreamer's eyes close, watched the chesttake on the even, regular rhythm of sleep.     The music changed, a slow dreamy tempo crept into it. Vee Vee's fingersdug at Johnson's arm as if they were trying to dig under his hide forprotection. She was shivering. He reached for her hand, patted it. Shedrew closer to him.     A few minutes earlier, she had been a very certain young woman, ableto take care of herself, and handle anyone around her. Now she wassuddenly uncertain, suddenly scared. In the Room of the Dreaming, shehad suddenly become a frightened child looking for protection.     Haven't you ever seen this before? he whispered.     N—o. She shivered again. Oh, Johnny....     Under the circle of light pouring down from the ceiling, the Dreamerlay motionless. Johnson found himself with the tendency to hold hisbreath. He was waiting, waiting, waiting—for what? The whole situationwas senseless, silly, but under its apparent lack of coherence, hesensed a pattern. Perhaps the path to the far-off stars passed thisway, through such scented and musical and impossible places as theseRooms of the Dreamers. Certainly Martin thought so. And Johnson himselfwas not prepared to disagree.     Around him, he saw that the Venusians were already going ... going ...going.... Some of them were already gone. This was an old experienceto them. They went rapidly. Humans went more slowly.     The Venusian watchers had relaxed. They looked as if they were asleep,perhaps in a hypnotic trance, lulled into this state by the musicand the perfume, and by something else. It was this something elsethat sent Johnson's thoughts pounding. The Venusians were like opiumsmokers. But he was not smoking opium. He was not in a hypnotic trance.He was wide awake and very much alert. He was ...       watching a space ship float in an endless void     .     As Unger had come into the spotlight, so the space ship had come intohis vision, out of nowhere, out of nothingness. The room, the Dreamer,the sound of the music, the sweetness of the perfume, Vee Vee andCaldwell were gone. They were no longer in his reality. They were notin the range of his vision. It was as if they did not exist. Yet heknew they did exist, the memory of them, and of other things, was outon the periphery of his universe, perhaps of      the     universe.     All he saw was the space ship.     It was a wonderful thing, perhaps the most beautiful sight he had seenin his life. At the sight of it, a deep glow sprang inside of him.     Back when he had been a kid he had dreamed of flight to the far-offstars. He had made models of space ships. In a way, they had shaped hisdestiny, had made him what he was. They had brought him where he wasthis night, to the Dream Room of a Venusian tavern.     The vision of the space ship floating in the void entranced andthrilled him. Something told him that this was real; that here and nowhe was making contact with a vision that belonged to time.     He started to his feet. Fingers gripped his arm.     Please, darling. You startled me. Don't move. Vee Vee's voice. Whowas Vee Vee?     The fingers dug into his arm. Pain came up in him. The space shipvanished. He looked with startled eyes at Vee Vee, at the Dream Room,at Unger, dreaming on the mat under the spot.     You ... you startled me, Vee Vee whispered. She released the grip onhis arm.     But, didn't you see it?     See what?     The space ship!     No. No. She seemed startled and a little terrified and half asleep.I ... I was watching something else. When you moved I broke contactwith my dream.     Your dream?     He asked a question but she did not answer it. Sit down, darling,and look at your damned space ship. Her voice was a taut whisper ofsound in the darkened room. Johnson settled down. A glance to his lefttold him that Caldwell was still sitting like a chunk of stone.... TheVenusians were quiet. The music had shifted. A slow languorous beatof hidden drums filled the room. There was another sound present, ahigh-speed whirring. It was, somehow, a familiar sound, but Johnson hadnot heard it before in this place.     He thought about the space ship he had seen.     The vision would not come.     He shook his head and tried again.     Beside him, Vee Vee was silent, her face ecstatic, like the face of awoman in love.     He tried again for the space ship.     It would not come.     Anger came up instead.     Somehow he had the impression that the whirring sound which keptintruding into his consciousness was stopping the vision.     So far as he could tell, he was the only one present who was notdreaming, who was not in a state of trance.     His gaze went to Unger, the Dreamer....     Cold flowed over him.     Unger was slowly rising from the mat.     The bland face and the body in the robe were slowly floating upward!      III     An invisible force seemed to twitch at Johnson's skin, nipping it hereand there with a multitude of tiny pinches, like invisible fleas bitinghim.     This is it! a voice whispered in his mind. This is what you came toVenus to see. This ... this.... The first voice went into silence.Another voice took its place.     This is another damned vision! the second voice said. This ...this is something that is not real, that is not possible! No VenusianDreamer, and no one else, can levitate, can defy the laws of gravity,can float upward toward the ceiling. Your damned eyes are tricking you!     We are not tricking you! the eyes hotly insisted. It is happening.We are seeing it. We are reporting accurately to you. That VenusianBuddha is levitating. We, your eyes, do not lie to you!     You lied about the space ship! the second voice said.     We did not lie about the space ship! the eyes insisted. When ourmaster saw that ship we were out of focus, we were not reporting. Someother sense, some other organ, may have lied, but we did not.     I— Johnson whispered.     I am your skin, another voice whispered. I am covered with sweat.     We are your adrenals. We are pouring forth adrenalin.     I am your pancreas. I am gearing you for action.     I am your thyroid. I....     A multitude of tiny voices seemed to whisper through him. It was as ifthe parts of his body had suddenly found voices and were reporting tohim what they were doing. These were voices out of his training dayswhen he had learned the names of these functions and how to use them.     Be quiet! he said roughly.     The little voices seemed to blend into a single chorus. Action,Master! Do something.     Quiet! Johnson ordered.     But hurry. We are excited.     There is a time to be excited and a time to hurry. In this situation,if action is taken before the time for it—if that time ever comes—wecan all die.     Die? the chorus quavered.     Yes, Johnson said. Now be quiet. When the time goes we will all gotogether.     The chorus went into muted silence. But just under the threshold thelittle voices were a multitude of tiny fretful pressures.     I hear a whirring sound, his ears reported.     Please! Johnson said.     In the front of the room Unger floated ten feet above the floor.     Master, we are not lying! his eyes repeated.     I sweat.... his skin began.     Watch Unger! Johnson said.     The Dreamer floated. If wires suspended him, Johnson could not seethem. If any known force lifted him, Johnson could not detect thatforce. All he could say for certain was that Unger floated.     Yaaah! The silence of a room was broken by the enraged scream of aVenusian being jarred out of his dream.     Damn it! A human voice said.     A wave as sharp as the tip of a sword swept through the room.     Unger fell.     He was ten feet high when he started to fall. With a bone-breaking,body-jarring thud, the Dreamer fell. Hard.     There was a split second of startled silence in the Dreaming Room. Thesilence went. Voices came.     Who did that?     What happened?     That human hidden there did it! He broke the Dreaming! Anger markedthe voices. Although the language was Venusian, Johnson got most of themeaning. His hand dived under his coat for the gun holstered there. Athis left, Caldwell was muttering thickly. What—what happened? I wasback in the lab on Earth— Caldwell's voice held a plaintive note, asif some pleasant dream had been interrupted.     On Johnson's right, Vee Vee seemed to flow to life. Her arms came uparound his neck. He was instantly prepared for anything. Her lips camehungrily against his lips, pressed very hard, then gently drew away.     What— he gasped.     I had to do it now, darling, she answered. There may not be a later.     Johnson had no time to ask her what she meant. Somewhere in the backof the room a human screamed. He jerked around. Back there a knot ofVenusians were attacking a man.     It's Martin! Caldwell shouted. He      is     here!     In Johnson's hand as he came to his feet the zit gun throbbed. He firedblindly at the mass of Venusians. Caldwell was firing too. The softthrob of the guns was not audible above the uproar from the crowd.Struck by the gas-driven corvel charges, Venusians were falling. Butthere seemed to be an endless number of them.     Vee Vee? Johnson suddenly realized that she had disappeared. She hadslid out of his sight.     Vee Vee! Johnson's voice became a shout.     To hell with the woman! Caldwell grunted. Martin's the importantone.     Zit, zit, zit, Caldwell moved toward the rear, shooting as he went.Johnson followed.  <doc-sep>You remember renumbering. Two years ago. You remember how it was then;how everybody looked forward to his new designation, and how everybodymade jokes about the way the letters came out, and how all the recordswere for a while fouled up beyond recognition.     The telecomics kidded renumbering. One went a little too far andthey psycho-scanned him and then sent him to Marscol as a dangerousnonconform.     If you were disappointed with your new designation, you didn'tcomplain. You didn't want a sudden visit from the Deacons during thenight.     There had to be renumbering. We all understood that. With thepopulation of Northem already past two billion, the old designationswere too clumsy. Renumbering was efficient. It contributed to the goodof Northem. It helped advance the warless struggle with Southem.     The equator is the boundary. I understand that once there wasa political difference and that the two superstates sprawledlongitudinally, not latitudinally, over the globe. Now they are prettymuch the same. There is the truce, and they are both geared for war.They are both efficient states, as tightly controlled as an experimentwith enzymes, as microsurgery, as the temper of a diplomat.     We were renumbered, then, in Northem. You know the system: everybodynow has six digits and an additional prefix or suffix of four letters.Stateleader, for instance, has the designation AAAA-111/111. Now, toaddress somebody by calling off four letters is a little clumsy. We tryto pronounce them when they are pronounceable. That is, no one says toStateleader, Good morning, A-A-A-A. They say, Good morning, Aaaa.     Reading the last quote, I notice a curious effect. It says what I feel.Of course I didn't feel that way on that particular morning. I wasstill conformal; the last thing in my mind was that I would infract andbe psycho-scanned.     Four letters then, and in many cases a pronounceable four letter word.     A four letter word.     Yes, you suspect already. You know what a four letter word can be.     Mine was.     It was unspeakable.     The slight weight on my forehead reminded me that I still wore mysleep-learner. I'd been studying administrative cybernetics, hoping toqualify in that field, although it was a poor substitute for a spacedrive expert. I removed the band and stepped across the room andturned off the oscillator. I went back to my egg and my bitter memories.     I will never forget the first day I received my new four lettercombination and reported it to my chief, as required. I was unthinkablyembarrassed. He didn't say anything. He just swallowed and chokedand became crimson when he saw it. He didn't dare pass it to hissecretarial engineer; he went to the administrative circuits andregistered it himself.     I can't blame him for easing me out. He was trying to run an efficientorganization, after all, and no doubt I upset its efficiency. My workwas important—magnetic mechanics was the only way to handle quantareaction, or the so-called non-energy drive, and was therefore theanswer to feasible space travel beyond our present limit of Mars—andthere were frequent inspection tours by Big Wheels and Very ImportantPersons.     Whenever anyone, especially a woman, asked my name, the embarrassmentwould become a crackling electric field all about us. The best tacticwas just not to answer.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the connection between the protagonist and the enigmatic voice in his dreams in the story ""I, the Unspeakable""?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How does the protagonist's name impact his interactions with others in I, the Unspeakable? [SEP] <s>   I, the Unspeakable     By WALT SHELDON     Illustrated by LOUIS MARCHETTI     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction April 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       What's in a name? might be very dangerous     to ask in certain societies, in which sticks     and stones are also a big problem!      I fought to be awake. I was dreaming, but I think I must have blushed.I must have blushed in my sleep.           Do it!      she said.       Please do it! For me!          It was the voice that always came, low, intense, seductive, the soundof your hand on silk ... and to a citizen of Northem, a conformist, itwas shocking. I was a conformist then; I was still one that morning.     I awoke. The glowlight was on, slowly increasing. I was in my livingmachine in Center Four, where I belonged, and all the familiar thingswere about me, reality was back, but I was breathing very hard.     I lay on the pneumo a while before getting up. I looked at thechroner: 0703 hours, Day 17, Month IX, New Century Three. My morningnuro-tablets had already popped from the tube, and the timer had begunto boil an egg. The egg was there because the realfood allotment hadbeen increased last month. The balance of trade with Southem had justswung a decimal or two our way.     I rose finally, stepped to the mirror, switched it to positive andlooked at myself. New wrinkles—or maybe just a deepening of the oldones. It was beginning to show; the past two years were leaving traces.     I hadn't worried about my appearance when I'd been with the Office ofWeapons. There, I'd been able to keep pretty much to myself, doingresearch on magnetic mechanics as applied to space drive. But otherjobs, where you had to be among people, might be different. I neededevery possible thing in my favor.     Yes, I still hoped for a job, even after two years. I still meant tokeep on plugging, making the rounds.     I'd go out again today.     The timer clicked and my egg was ready. I swallowed the tablets andthen took the egg to the table to savor it and make it last.     As I leaned forward to sit, the metal tag dangled from my neck,catching the glowlight. My identity tag.     Everything came back in a rush—     My name. The dream and      her     voice. And her suggestion.       Would I dare? Would I start out this very morning and take the risk,the terrible risk?    <doc-sep>   The Snare     By RICHARD R. SMITH     Illustrated by WEISS     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy January 1956.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright     on this publication was renewed.]        It's easy to find a solution when there is one—the trick is to do itif there is none!        I glanced at the path we had made across the      Mare Serenitatis     . TheLatin translated as the Sea of Serenity. It was well named because,as far as the eye could see in every direction, there was a smoothlayer of pumice that resembled the surface of a calm sea. Scatteredacross the quiet sea of virgin Moon dust were occasional islandsof rock that jutted abruptly toward the infinity of stars above.Considering everything, our surroundings conveyed a sense of serenitylike none I had ever felt.     Our bounding path across the level expanse was clearly marked. Becauseof the light gravity, we had leaped high into the air with each stepand every time we struck the ground, the impact had raised a cloud ofdustlike pumice. Now the clouds of dust were slowly settling in thelight gravity.     Above us, the stars were cold, motionless and crystal-clear.Indifferently, they sprayed a faint light on our surroundings ... adim glow that was hardly sufficient for normal vision and was too weakto be reflected toward Earth.     We turned our head-lamps on the strange object before us. Five beamsof light illuminated the smooth shape that protruded from the Moon'ssurface.     The incongruity was so awesome that for several minutes, we remainedmotionless and quiet. Miller broke the silence with his quaveringvoice, Strange someone didn't notice it before.  <doc-sep>Bombay, India     June 8     Mr. Joe Binkle     Plaza Ritz Arms     New York City     Dear Joe:     Greetings, greetings, greetings. Hold firm in your wretched projection,for tomorrow you will not be alone in the not-world. In two days I,Glmpauszn, will be born.     Today I hang in our newly developed not-pod just within the mirrorgateway, torn with the agony that we calculated must go with suchtremendous wavelength fluctuations. I have attuned myself to a fetuswithin the body of a not-woman in the not-world. Already I am staticand for hours have looked into this weird extension of the Universewith fear and trepidation.     As soon as my stasis was achieved, I tried to contact you, but gotno response. What could have diminished your powers of articulatewave interaction to make you incapable of receiving my messages andreturning them? My wave went out to yours and found it, barely pulsingand surrounded with an impregnable chimera.     Quickly, from the not-world vibrations about you, I learned thenot-knowledge of your location. So I must communicate with you by whatthe not-world calls mail till we meet. For this purpose I mustutilize the feeble vibrations of various not-people through whoseinadequate articulation I will attempt to make my moves known to you.Each time I will pick a city other than the one I am in at the time.     I, Glmpauszn, come equipped with powers evolved from your fragmentaryreports before you ceased to vibrate to us and with a vast treasuryof facts from indirect sources. Soon our tortured people will be freeof the fearsome not-folk and I will be their liberator. You failed inyour task, but I will try to get you off with light punishment when wereturn again.     The hand that writes this letter is that of a boy in the not-city ofBombay in the not-country of India. He does not know he writes it.Tomorrow it will be someone else. You must never know of my exactlocation, for the not-people might have access to the information.     I must leave off now because the not-child is about to be born. When itis alone in the room, it will be spirited away and I will spring fromthe pod on the gateway into its crib and will be its exact vibrationallikeness.     I have tremendous powers. But the not-people must never know I am amongthem. This is the only way I could arrive in the room where the gatewaylies without arousing suspicion. I will grow up as the not-child inorder that I might destroy the not-people completely.     All is well, only they shot this information file into my matrix toofast. I'm having a hard time sorting facts and make the right decision.Gezsltrysk, what a task!     Farewell till later.     Glmpauszn  <doc-sep>You remember renumbering. Two years ago. You remember how it was then;how everybody looked forward to his new designation, and how everybodymade jokes about the way the letters came out, and how all the recordswere for a while fouled up beyond recognition.     The telecomics kidded renumbering. One went a little too far andthey psycho-scanned him and then sent him to Marscol as a dangerousnonconform.     If you were disappointed with your new designation, you didn'tcomplain. You didn't want a sudden visit from the Deacons during thenight.     There had to be renumbering. We all understood that. With thepopulation of Northem already past two billion, the old designationswere too clumsy. Renumbering was efficient. It contributed to the goodof Northem. It helped advance the warless struggle with Southem.     The equator is the boundary. I understand that once there wasa political difference and that the two superstates sprawledlongitudinally, not latitudinally, over the globe. Now they are prettymuch the same. There is the truce, and they are both geared for war.They are both efficient states, as tightly controlled as an experimentwith enzymes, as microsurgery, as the temper of a diplomat.     We were renumbered, then, in Northem. You know the system: everybodynow has six digits and an additional prefix or suffix of four letters.Stateleader, for instance, has the designation AAAA-111/111. Now, toaddress somebody by calling off four letters is a little clumsy. We tryto pronounce them when they are pronounceable. That is, no one says toStateleader, Good morning, A-A-A-A. They say, Good morning, Aaaa.     Reading the last quote, I notice a curious effect. It says what I feel.Of course I didn't feel that way on that particular morning. I wasstill conformal; the last thing in my mind was that I would infract andbe psycho-scanned.     Four letters then, and in many cases a pronounceable four letter word.     A four letter word.     Yes, you suspect already. You know what a four letter word can be.     Mine was.     It was unspeakable.     The slight weight on my forehead reminded me that I still wore mysleep-learner. I'd been studying administrative cybernetics, hoping toqualify in that field, although it was a poor substitute for a spacedrive expert. I removed the band and stepped across the room andturned off the oscillator. I went back to my egg and my bitter memories.     I will never forget the first day I received my new four lettercombination and reported it to my chief, as required. I was unthinkablyembarrassed. He didn't say anything. He just swallowed and chokedand became crimson when he saw it. He didn't dare pass it to hissecretarial engineer; he went to the administrative circuits andregistered it himself.     I can't blame him for easing me out. He was trying to run an efficientorganization, after all, and no doubt I upset its efficiency. My workwas important—magnetic mechanics was the only way to handle quantareaction, or the so-called non-energy drive, and was therefore theanswer to feasible space travel beyond our present limit of Mars—andthere were frequent inspection tours by Big Wheels and Very ImportantPersons.     Whenever anyone, especially a woman, asked my name, the embarrassmentwould become a crackling electric field all about us. The best tacticwas just not to answer.  <doc-sep>   The Gravity Business     By JAMES E. GUNN     Illustrated by ASHMAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy January 1956.Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyrighton this publication was renewed.]        This little alien beggar could dictate his own terms, but how couldhe—and how could anyone find out what those terms might be?        The flivver descended vertically toward the green planet circling theold, orange sun.     It was a spaceship, but not the kind men had once dreamed about. Theflivver was shaped like a crude bullet, blunt at one end of a fatcylinder and tapering abruptly to a point at the other. It had beenslapped together out of sheet metal and insulation board, and it sold,fully equipped, for $15,730. It didn't behave like a spaceship, either.     As it hurtled down, its speed increased with dramatic swiftness. Then,at the last instant before impact, it stopped. Just like that.     A moment later, it thumped a last few inches into the ankle-deep grassand knee-high white flowers of the meadow. It was a shock of a jar thatmade the sheet-metal walls boom like thunder machines. The flivverrocked unsteadily on its flat stern before it decided to stay upright.     Then all was quiet—outside.     Inside the big, central cabin, Grampa waved his pircuit irately in theair. Now look what you made me do! Just when I had the blamed thingpractically whipped, too!  <doc-sep>But the crew all drank of the fountain to be sociable. It was water,but water that excelled, cool and with all its original bubbles likethe first water ever made.     What do you make of them? asked Stark.     Human, said Steiner. It may even be that they are a little more thanhuman. I don't understand that light that surrounds them. And they seemto be clothed, as it were, in dignity.     And very little else, said Father Briton, though that light trickdoes serve a purpose. But I'm not sure they'd pass in Philadelphia.     Talk to them again, said Stark. You're the linguist.     That isn't necessary here, Captain. Talk to them yourself.     Are there any other people here? Stark asked the man.     The two of us. Man and woman.     But are there any others?     How would there be any others? What other kind of people could therebe than man and woman?     But is there more than one man or woman?     How could there be more than one of anything?     The captain was a little puzzled by this, but he went on doggedly:Ha-Adamah, what do you think that we are? Are we not people?     You are not anything till I name you. But I will name you and thenyou can be. You are named Captain. He is named Priest. He is namedEngineer. He is named Flunky.     Thanks a lot, said Steiner.     But are we not people? persisted Captain Stark.     No. We are the people. There are no people but two. How could there beother people?     And the damnest thing about it, muttered Langweilig, is, how are yougoing to prove him wrong? But it does give you a small feeling.     Can we have something to eat? asked the Captain.     Pick from the trees, said Ha-Adamah, and then it may be that youwill want to sleep on the grass. Being not of human nature (which doesnot need sleep or rest), it may be that you require respite. But youare free to enjoy the garden and its fruits.     We will, said Captain Stark.     They wandered about the place, but they were uneasy. There were theanimals. The lion and lioness were enough to make one cautious, thoughthey offered no harm. The two bears had a puzzling look, as though theywanted either to frolic with you or to mangle you.     If there are only two people here, said Casper Craig, then it may bethat the rest of the world is not dangerous at all. It looked fertilewherever we scanned it, though not so fertile as this central bit. Andthose rocks would bear examining.     Flecked with gold, and possibly with something else, said Stark. Avery promising site.     And everything grows here, added Steiner. Those are Earth-fruits andI never saw finer. I've tasted the grapes and plums and pears. The figsand dates are superb, the quince is as flavorsome as a quince can be,the cherries are excellent. And I never did taste such oranges. But Ihaven't yet tried the— and he stopped.     If you're thinking what I'm afraid to think, said Gilbert, then itwill be the test at least: whether we're having a pleasant dream orwhether this is reality. Go ahead and eat one.     I won't be the first to eat one. You eat.     Ask him first. You ask him.     Ha-Adamah, is it allowed to eat the apples?     Certainly. Eat. It is the finest fruit in the garden.  <doc-sep>Scan the remainder of the world, Steiner, said Stark, and the restof us will get some sleep. If you find no other spot then we will godown on that one the next time it is in position under us, in abouttwelve hours.     You don't want to visit any of the other areas first? Somewhere awayfrom the thoughtful creature?     No. The rest of the world may be dangerous. There must be a reasonthat thought is in one spot only. If we find no others then we will godown boldly and visit this.     So they all, except Steiner, went off to their bunks then: Stark, theCaptain; Gregory Gilbert, the executive officer; Wolfgang Langweilig,the engineer; Casper Craig, super-cargo, tycoon and 51% owner of theLittle Probe, and F. R. Briton, S.J., a Jesuit priest who was linguistand checker champion of the craft.     Dawn did not come to the moon-town. The Little Probe hovered stationaryin the light and the moon-town came up under the dawn. Then the Probewent down to visit whatever was there.     There's no town, said Steiner. Not a building. Yet we're on thetrack of the minds. There's nothing but a meadow and some boscage, asort of fountain or pool, and four streams coming out of it.     Keep on towards the minds, said Stark. They're our target.     Not a building, not two sticks or stones placed together. That lookslike an Earth-type sheep there. And that looks like an Earth-lion,I'm almost afraid to say. And those two ... why, they could well beEarth-people. But with a difference. Where is that bright light comingfrom?     I don't know, but they're right in the middle of it. Land here. We'llgo to meet them at once. Timidity has never been an efficacious toolwith us.     Well, they were people. And one could only wish that all people werelike them. There was a man and a woman, and they were clothed eitherin very bright garments or in no garments at all, but only in a verybright light.     Talk to them, Father Briton, said Stark. You are the linguist.     Howdy, said the priest.     He may or may not have been understood, but the two of them smiled athim, so he went on.     Father Briton from Philadelphia, he said, on detached service. Andyou, my good man, what is your handle, your monicker, your tag?     Ha-Adamah, said the man.     And your daughter, or niece?     It may be that the shining man frowned momentarily at this; but thewoman smiled, proving that she was human.     The woman is named Hawwah, said the man. The sheep is named sheep,the lion is named lion, the horse is named horse and the hoolock isnamed hoolock.     I understand. It is possible that this could go on and on. How is itthat you use the English tongue?     I have only one tongue; but it is given to us to be understood by all;by the eagle, by the squirrel, by the ass, by the English.     We happen to be bloody Yankees, but we use a borrowed tongue. Youwouldn't have a drink on you for a tubful of thirsty travellers, wouldyou?     The fountain.     Ah—I see.  <doc-sep>You are sensitive, the native said in his ear. It takes a sensitivegod to feel the spirits moving in the houses and walking in these oldstreets.     Say it any way you want to. This is the most fascinating thingI've ever seen. The Inca's treasure, the ruins of Pompeii, Egyptiantombs—none can hold a candle to this.     Mr. Earthgod....     Don't call me that. I'm not a god, and you know it.     The old man shrugged. It is not an item worthy of dispute. Those namesyou mention, are they the names of gods?     He chuckled. In a way, yes. What is your name?     Maota.     You must help me, Maota. These things must be preserved. We'll builda museum, right here in the street. No, over there on the hill justoutside the city. We'll collect all the old writings and perhaps we maydecipher them. Think of it, Maota! To read pages written so long agoand think their thoughts. We'll put everything under glass. Build andevacuate chambers to stop the decay. Catalogue, itemize....     Michaelson was warming up to his subject, but Maota shook his head likea waving palm frond and stamped his feet.     You will leave now.     Can't you see? Look at the decay. These things are priceless. Theymust be preserved. Future generations will thank us.     Do you mean, the old man asked, aghast, that you want others to comehere? You know the city abhors the sound of alien voices. Those wholived here may return one day! They must not find their city packagedand preserved and laid out on shelves for the curious to breathe theirfoul breaths upon. You will leave. Now!     No. Michaelson was adamant. The rock of Gibraltar.     Maota hit him, quickly, passionately, and dropped the weapon beside hisbody. He turned swiftly, making a swirling mark in the sand with hisheel, and walked off toward the hills outside the city.     The weapon he had used was an ancient book. Its paper-thin pagesrustled in the wind as if an unseen hand turned them, reading, whileMichaelson's blood trickled out from the head wound upon the ancientstreet.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How does the protagonist's name impact his interactions with others in I, the Unspeakable?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the response of people when they hear the name of the narrator in the story ""I, the Unspeakable""? [SEP] <s>   I, the Unspeakable     By WALT SHELDON     Illustrated by LOUIS MARCHETTI     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction April 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       What's in a name? might be very dangerous     to ask in certain societies, in which sticks     and stones are also a big problem!      I fought to be awake. I was dreaming, but I think I must have blushed.I must have blushed in my sleep.           Do it!      she said.       Please do it! For me!          It was the voice that always came, low, intense, seductive, the soundof your hand on silk ... and to a citizen of Northem, a conformist, itwas shocking. I was a conformist then; I was still one that morning.     I awoke. The glowlight was on, slowly increasing. I was in my livingmachine in Center Four, where I belonged, and all the familiar thingswere about me, reality was back, but I was breathing very hard.     I lay on the pneumo a while before getting up. I looked at thechroner: 0703 hours, Day 17, Month IX, New Century Three. My morningnuro-tablets had already popped from the tube, and the timer had begunto boil an egg. The egg was there because the realfood allotment hadbeen increased last month. The balance of trade with Southem had justswung a decimal or two our way.     I rose finally, stepped to the mirror, switched it to positive andlooked at myself. New wrinkles—or maybe just a deepening of the oldones. It was beginning to show; the past two years were leaving traces.     I hadn't worried about my appearance when I'd been with the Office ofWeapons. There, I'd been able to keep pretty much to myself, doingresearch on magnetic mechanics as applied to space drive. But otherjobs, where you had to be among people, might be different. I neededevery possible thing in my favor.     Yes, I still hoped for a job, even after two years. I still meant tokeep on plugging, making the rounds.     I'd go out again today.     The timer clicked and my egg was ready. I swallowed the tablets andthen took the egg to the table to savor it and make it last.     As I leaned forward to sit, the metal tag dangled from my neck,catching the glowlight. My identity tag.     Everything came back in a rush—     My name. The dream and      her     voice. And her suggestion.       Would I dare? Would I start out this very morning and take the risk,the terrible risk?    <doc-sep>When Purnie started time again, the animal with the noose stood inopen-mouthed disbelief as the rope fell harmlessly to the sand—on thespot where Purnie had been standing.     My God, he's—he's gone.     Then another of the animals, the one with the smoking thing in hishand, ran a few steps toward the noose, stopped and gaped at the rope.All right, you people, what's going on here? Get him in that box. Whatdid you do with him?     The resumption of time meant nothing at all to those on the beach, forto them time had never stopped. The only thing they could be sure ofwas that at one moment there had been a fuzzy creature hopping aroundin front of them, and the next moment he was gone.     Is he invisible, Captain? Where is he?     Up there, Captain! On those rocks. Isn't that him?     Well, I'll be damned!     Benson, I'm holding you personally responsible for this! Now thatyou've botched it up, I'll bring him down my own way.     Just a minute, Forbes, let me think. There's something about thatfuzzy little devil that we should.... Forbes! I warned you about thatgun!     Purnie moved across the top of the rockpile for a last look at hisfriends. His weight on the end of the first log started the slide.Slowly at first, the giant pencils began cascading down the shortdistance to the sand. Purnie fell back onto solid ground, horrified atthe spectacle before him. The agonizing screams of the animals belowfilled him with hysteria.     The boulders caught most of them as they stood ankle-deep in the surf.Others were pinned down on the sand.     I didn't mean it! Purnie screamed. I'm sorry! Can't you hear? Hehopped back and forth near the edge of the rise, torn with panic andshame. Get up! Please get up! He was horrified by the moans reachinghis ears from the beach. You're getting all wet! Did you hear me?Please get up. He was choked with rage and sorrow. How could he havedone this? He wanted his friends to get up and shake themselves off,tell him it was all right. But it was beyond his power to bring itabout.     The lapping tide threatened to cover those in the orange surf.  <doc-sep>Captain Bransten was a mousey, unimpressive sort of man. He was wearinga tropical tunic, but he still resembled a wilted lily more than he didan officer.     Have a seat, Major, he offered. He reached for a cigarette box on thedesk and extended it to me. He coughed in embarrassment when he saw itwas empty. Quickly, he pressed a button on his desk and the door poppedopen. A tall, blue Venusian stepped lithely into the room.     Sir? the Venusian asked.     We're out of cigarettes, Joe, the Captain said. Will you get ussome, please?     Sure thing, the Venusian answered. He smiled broadly and closed thedoor behind him.       Another Joe     , I thought.      Another damned Joe.       They steal them, Captain Bransten said abruptly.     Steal what? I asked.     Cigarettes. I sometimes think the cigarette is one of the few thingsthey like about Terran culture.     So Walsh had taken care of that angle too.      He does have a peculiarhabit, though. He has an affinity for Terran cigarettes.     Cigaretteswas the tip I should have given; not solars.     All right, I said, suppose we start at the beginning.     Captain Bransten opened his eyes wide. Sir? he asked.     What's with all this Joe business? It may be a very original name butI think its popularity here is a little outstanding.     Captain Bransten began to chuckle softly. I personally didn't think itwas so funny. I tossed him my withering Superior Officer's gaze andwaited for his explanation.     I hadn't realized this was your first time on Venus, he said.     Is there a local hero named Joe? I asked.     No, no, nothing like that, he assured me. It's a simple culture, youknow. Not nearly as developed as Mars.     I can see that, I said bitingly.     And the natives are only now becoming acquainted with Terran culture.Lots of enlisted men, you know.     I began to get the idea. And I began to appreciate Walsh's doubtfulancestry more keenly.     It's impossible to tell exactly where it all started, of course,Bransten was saying.     I was beginning to get angry. Very angry. I was thinking of Walshsitting back in a nice cozy foam chair back on Earth.     Get to the point, Captain! I barked.     Easy, sir, Bransten said, turning pale. I could see that the Captainwasn't used to entertaining Majors. The enlisted men. You know howthey are. They'll ask a native to do something and they'll call himJoe. 'Hey, Joe, give me a hand with this.' Or 'Listen, Joe, how'd youlike to earn some cigarettes?' Do you follow?     I follow, all right, I said bitterly.     Well, Bransten went on, that sort of thing mushrooms. The nativesare a simple, almost childish people. It appealed to them—the Joebusiness, I mean. Now they're all Joe. They like it. That and thecigarettes.     He cleared his throat and looked at me apologetically as if he werepersonally responsible for Venusian culture. In fact, he looked as ifhe were responsible for having put Venus in the heavens in the firstplace.     Do you understand, Major? Just a case of extended idiom, that's all.     Just a case of extended      idiot     , I thought. An idiot on a wild goosechase a hell of a long way from home.     I understand perfectly, I snapped. Where are my quarters?     Bransten asked a Venusian named Joe to show me my quarters, remindingme that chow was at thirteen hundred. As I was leaving, the firstVenusian came back with the cigarettes Bransten had ordered.     I could tell by the look on his face that he probably had half a cartonstuffed into his pockets. I shrugged and went to change into a tropicaltunic.     I called Earth right after chow. The Captain assured me that this sortof thing was definitely against regulations, but he submitted when Itwinkled my little gold leaf under his nose.     Walsh's face appeared on the screen. He was smiling, looking like a fatpussy cat.     What is it, Major? he asked.     This man Joe, I said. Can you give me any more on him?     Walsh's grin grew wider. Why, Major, he said, you're not having anydifficulties, are you?     None at all, I snapped back. I just thought I'd be able to find hima lot sooner if....     Take your time, Major, Walsh beamed. There's no rush at all.     I thought....     I'm sure you can do the job, Walsh cut in. I wouldn't have sent youotherwise.     Hell, I was through kidding around. Look....     He's somewhere in the jungle, you know, Walsh said.     I wanted to ram my fist into the screen, right smack up against thosebig white teeth. Instead, I cut off the transmission and watched thesurprised look on his face as his screen went blank millions of milesaway.     He blinked at the screen, trying to realize I'd deliberately hung up onhim.     Polk! he shouted, can you hear me?     I smiled, saw the twisted hatred on his features, and then the screenon my end went blank, too.       He's somewhere in the jungle, you know.       I thanked Captain Bransten for his hospitality and went back to myquarters.     As I saw it, there were two courses for me to follow.     One: I could say the hell with Walsh and Venus. That would mean hoppingthe next ship back to Earth.     It would also mean disobeying the direct order of a superior officer.It might mean demotion, and it might mean getting bounced out of theService altogether.     Two: I could assume there really was a guy name Joe somewhere in thatjungle, a Joe separate and apart from the other Joes on this planet, atrader Joe who knew the Martians well. I could always admit failure, ofcourse, and return empty handed. Mission not accomplished. Or, I mightreally find a guy who was trader Joe.     I made my decision quickly. I wanted to stay in the Service, andbesides Walsh may have been on the level for the first time in hislife. Maybe there was a Joe here who could help us on Mars. If therewas I'd try to find him. It was still a hell of a trick though.     I cursed Walsh again and pushed the buzzer near my bed.     A tall Venusian stepped into the room.     Joe? I asked, just to be sure.     Who else, boss? he answered.     I'm trying to locate someone, I said. I'll need a guide to take meinto the jungle. Can you get me one?     It'll cost you, boss, the Venusian said.     How much?     Two cartons of cigarettes at least.     Who's the guide? I asked.     How's the price sound?     Fine, fine, I said impatiently. And the Captain had said they werealmost a childish people!     His name is Joe, the Venusian told me. Best damn guide on theplanet. Take you anywhere you want to go, do anything you want to do.Courageous. Doesn't know the meaning of fear. I've known him to....     Skip it, I said, cutting the promotion short. Tell him to show uparound fifteen hundred with a complete list of what we'll need.     The Venusian started to leave.     And Joe, I said, stopping him at the door, I hope you're notoverlooking your commission on the deal.     His face broke into a wide grin. No danger of that, boss, he said.     When he was gone I began figuring out a plan of action. Obviously, I'djust have to traipse through the jungle looking for a guy named Joe ona planet where everyone was named Joe. Everybody, at least, but theCaptain, the small garrison attached to the Station, and me.  <doc-sep>You remember renumbering. Two years ago. You remember how it was then;how everybody looked forward to his new designation, and how everybodymade jokes about the way the letters came out, and how all the recordswere for a while fouled up beyond recognition.     The telecomics kidded renumbering. One went a little too far andthey psycho-scanned him and then sent him to Marscol as a dangerousnonconform.     If you were disappointed with your new designation, you didn'tcomplain. You didn't want a sudden visit from the Deacons during thenight.     There had to be renumbering. We all understood that. With thepopulation of Northem already past two billion, the old designationswere too clumsy. Renumbering was efficient. It contributed to the goodof Northem. It helped advance the warless struggle with Southem.     The equator is the boundary. I understand that once there wasa political difference and that the two superstates sprawledlongitudinally, not latitudinally, over the globe. Now they are prettymuch the same. There is the truce, and they are both geared for war.They are both efficient states, as tightly controlled as an experimentwith enzymes, as microsurgery, as the temper of a diplomat.     We were renumbered, then, in Northem. You know the system: everybodynow has six digits and an additional prefix or suffix of four letters.Stateleader, for instance, has the designation AAAA-111/111. Now, toaddress somebody by calling off four letters is a little clumsy. We tryto pronounce them when they are pronounceable. That is, no one says toStateleader, Good morning, A-A-A-A. They say, Good morning, Aaaa.     Reading the last quote, I notice a curious effect. It says what I feel.Of course I didn't feel that way on that particular morning. I wasstill conformal; the last thing in my mind was that I would infract andbe psycho-scanned.     Four letters then, and in many cases a pronounceable four letter word.     A four letter word.     Yes, you suspect already. You know what a four letter word can be.     Mine was.     It was unspeakable.     The slight weight on my forehead reminded me that I still wore mysleep-learner. I'd been studying administrative cybernetics, hoping toqualify in that field, although it was a poor substitute for a spacedrive expert. I removed the band and stepped across the room andturned off the oscillator. I went back to my egg and my bitter memories.     I will never forget the first day I received my new four lettercombination and reported it to my chief, as required. I was unthinkablyembarrassed. He didn't say anything. He just swallowed and chokedand became crimson when he saw it. He didn't dare pass it to hissecretarial engineer; he went to the administrative circuits andregistered it himself.     I can't blame him for easing me out. He was trying to run an efficientorganization, after all, and no doubt I upset its efficiency. My workwas important—magnetic mechanics was the only way to handle quantareaction, or the so-called non-energy drive, and was therefore theanswer to feasible space travel beyond our present limit of Mars—andthere were frequent inspection tours by Big Wheels and Very ImportantPersons.     Whenever anyone, especially a woman, asked my name, the embarrassmentwould become a crackling electric field all about us. The best tacticwas just not to answer.  <doc-sep>Venus boys rared up and served notice that if Earth ever got any funnynotions, right away there wouldn't be enough Earth left to hide in anatom's eyebrow. Touchy as hornets on a hot griddle, them Venus guys.Crazier than bed bugs about war. Could smell a loose dollar a millionlight years away too. Finagled around until they finally cooked up adeal.     No Venus dames allowed within fifty miles of their port. Earth guysstay inside the high-voltage fence. Any dame caught trying to leaveVenus thrown to the tigers for supper. Same for any Earth guy caughtaround a Venus dame. In return, Earth could buy practically everythingat bargain basement prices.     Oh, I was shown the history films in pre-flight, O'Rielly said, stilldreamily. But not a peek of any Venus dame.     Pray heaven you'll never lay eyes on one nor have one get within tenfoot of you! Even though you'd know she'd be your damnation wouldn'tmake a whit difference—you'd still act sappier than thirty-sevenangels flying on vino. Callahan suddenly stared at O'Rielly. Holyhollering saints!     Now, now, Burner Chief Callahan, sir, O'Rielly responded with an airylaugh. No Earth guy for a hundred twenty-five years been near one andlived to tell it, has he?     So the whispers run, Callahan murmured with a queer flame dancinginto his eyes. So the old whispers still run.     Never a name, though. Never how it was done. O'Rielly snorted.Probably just a goofy tale set loose by some old space bum.     Oh? Callahan bristled up like a bad name had been bandied about.Seen them ditty bags Venus bigwigs have, ain't you? Some big enough tostuff a cow in. Notice how nobody ever dares question a bigwig's bags,even through customs? Just run 'em through the big Geiger that tellswhether there's any fusionable junk inside. Well, our boy got himselfone of them bags, stuffed himself inside and joined a bigwig's pile of'em.     Didn't pull it whilst on the Venus port during a layover either, whena crew check would of turned him up missing. Pulled it on vacation.Started on the Earth end. Made himself a pair of beards to paste on hisears of course. Wove Jupiter wiggle worms in to keep the beards moving.Wasn't like the real thing, but good enough to flimflam Venus guys.     With suddenly enlivened interest O'Rielly looked at Callahan. Hey, howcome you know so much?     Hah? What? Callahan blinked like waking from a trance; even groanedto himself, something that sounded like, Blabbering like I'd hada nip myself—or one of them dillies was radiating nearby. ThenCallahan glared fit to drill holes in O'Rielly's head. Look! I wasa full Burnerman before you was born. Been flying the spaces hundredtwenty-five years now. Had more chances to hear more—just hear more,you hear! Only tried to clear your mind about Venus dames so you couldput your brain on your control mess. So now put it! If you ain't highon vino and ain't been made nuts by a Venus dame, what answer do wefeed the Old Woman?     Search me, Apprentice Burnerman O'Rielly responded cheerfully.     Of all the loony apprentices I ever had to answer the Old Woman for!Awp, lemme out where I can think of something to save me own neck atleast!     Was all O'Rielly could do to keep from rolling on the deck with glee.Old Callahan had been flimflammed for fair! The dear little stowawaywas saved! And O'Rielly would now think of grand ways to save herlovely neck and his own forever.     O'Rielly's shower door, however, opened abruptly. O'Rielly had notopened it. O'Rielly, however, suffered a cruel stab of dismay. Surelyhis dear stowaway had been listening through the door. Why didn't shehave brains enough to stay hid until Callahan was gone!     At sight of her, of course, Callahan's eyes near popped from his oldhead. Berta!     Oh, I'm Trillium, she assured Callahan sweetly. But Grandmamma'sname is Berta and people say I'm just like she was a hundred andtwenty-five years ago.  <doc-sep>For more than a century, robotocists have been trying to build Asimov'sfamous Three Laws of Robotics into a robot brain.       First Law: A robot shall not, either through action or inaction, allowharm to come to a human being.         Second Law: A robot shall obey the orders of a human being, exceptwhen such orders conflict with the First Law     .     [15]       Third Law: A robot shall strive to protect its own existence, exceptwhen this conflicts with the First or Second Law.       Nobody has succeeded yet, because nobody has yet succeeded in definingthe term human being in such a way that the logical mind of a robotcan encompass the concept.     A traffic robot is useful only because the definition has been rigidlynarrowed down. As far as a traffic robot is concerned, human beingsare the automobiles on its highways. Woe betide any poor sap who tries,illegally, to cross a robot-controlled highway on foot. The robot'sonly concern would be with the safety of the automobiles, and if theonly way to avoid destruction of an automobile were to be by nudgingthe pedestrian aside with a fender, that's what would happen.     And, since its orders only come from one place, I suppose that atraffic robot thinks that the guy who uses that typer is an automobile.     With the first six models of the McGuire ships, the robotocistsattempted to build in the Three Laws exactly as stated. And the firstsix went insane.     If one human being says jump left, and another says jump right,the robot is unable to evaluate which human being has given the morevalid order. Feed enough confusing and conflicting data into a robotbrain, and it can begin behaving in ways that, in a human being, wouldbe called paranoia or schizophrenia or catatonia or what-have-you,depending  [16]  on the symptoms. And an insane robot is fully as dangerousas an insane human being controlling the same mechanical equipment, ifnot more so.     So the seventh model had been modified. The present McGuire's brain wasimpressed with slight modifications of the First and Second Laws.     If it is difficult to define a human being, it is much more difficultto define a      responsible     human being. One, in other words, who canbe relied upon to give wise and proper orders to a robot, who can berelied upon not to drive the robot insane.     The robotocists at Viking Spacecraft had decided to take anothertack. Very well, they'd said, if we can't define all the membersof a group, we can certainly define an individual. We'll pick oneresponsible person and build McGuire so that he will take orders onlyfrom that person.     As it turned out, I was that person. Just substitute Daniel Oakfor human being in the First and Second Laws, and you'll see howimportant I was to a certain spaceship named McGuire.  <doc-sep>Once seated, the AEC man said I'll get right to the point. You mayfind this troublesome, gentlemen, but your government intends toconfiscate all of the devices using your so-called Expendable field,and forever bar their manufacture in this country or their importation.     You stinking G-men aren't getting away with this, Carmen saidingratiatingly. Ever hear of the Mafia?     Not much, the young man admitted earnestly, since the FBI finishedwith its deportations a few years back.     I cleared my throat. I must admit that the destruction of amulti-billion business is disconcerting before lunch. May we ask whyyou took this step?     The agent inserted a finger between his collar and tie. Have younoticed how unseasonably warm it is?     I wondered if you had. You're going to have heat prostration if youkeep that suit coat on five minutes more.     The young man collapsed back in his chair, loosening the top button ofhis ivy league jacket, looking from my naked hide to the gossomer scrapof sport shirt Carmen wore. We have to dress inconspicuously in theservice, he panted weakly.     I nodded understandingly. What does the heat have to do with theoutlawing of the Expendables?     At first we thought there might be some truth in the folk nonsensethat nuclear tests had something to do with raising the meantemperature of the world, the AEC man said. But our scientistsquickly found they weren't to blame.     Clever of them.     Yes, they saw that the widespread use of your machines was responsiblefor the higher temperature. Your device violates the law ofconservation of energy,      seemingly     . It      seemingly     destroys matterwithout creating energy. Actually—     He paused dramatically.     Actually, your device added the energy it created in destroying matterto the energy potential of the planet in the form of      heat     . You seewhat that means? If your devices continue in operation, the meantemperature of Earth will rise to the point where we burst into flame.They must be outlawed!     I agree, I said reluctantly.     Tony Carmen spoke up. No, you don't, Professor. We don't agree tothat.     I waved his protests aside.     I      would     agree, I said, except that it wouldn't work. Explain thedanger to the public, let them feel the heat rise themselves, and theywill hoard Expendables against seizure and continue to use them, untilwe do burst into flame, as you put it so religiously.     Why? the young man demanded.     Because Expendables are convenient. There is a ban on frivolous useof water due to the dire need. But the police still have to go stoppeople from watering lawns, and I suspect not a few swimming pools arebeing filled on the sly. Water is somebody else's worry. So will begenerating enough heat to turn Eden into Hell.     Mass psychology isn't my strongest point, the young man saidworriedly. But I suspect you may be right. Then—we'll be damned?     No, not necessarily, I told him comfortingly. All we have to do is      use up     the excess energy with engines of a specific design.     But can we design those engines in time? the young man wondered withuncharacteristic gloom.     Certainly, I said, practising the power of positive thinking. Nowthat your world-wide testing laboratories have confirmed a vague fearof mine, I can easily reverse the field of the Expendable device andcreate a rather low-efficiency engine that consumes the excess energyin our planetary potential.  <doc-sep>But the crew all drank of the fountain to be sociable. It was water,but water that excelled, cool and with all its original bubbles likethe first water ever made.     What do you make of them? asked Stark.     Human, said Steiner. It may even be that they are a little more thanhuman. I don't understand that light that surrounds them. And they seemto be clothed, as it were, in dignity.     And very little else, said Father Briton, though that light trickdoes serve a purpose. But I'm not sure they'd pass in Philadelphia.     Talk to them again, said Stark. You're the linguist.     That isn't necessary here, Captain. Talk to them yourself.     Are there any other people here? Stark asked the man.     The two of us. Man and woman.     But are there any others?     How would there be any others? What other kind of people could therebe than man and woman?     But is there more than one man or woman?     How could there be more than one of anything?     The captain was a little puzzled by this, but he went on doggedly:Ha-Adamah, what do you think that we are? Are we not people?     You are not anything till I name you. But I will name you and thenyou can be. You are named Captain. He is named Priest. He is namedEngineer. He is named Flunky.     Thanks a lot, said Steiner.     But are we not people? persisted Captain Stark.     No. We are the people. There are no people but two. How could there beother people?     And the damnest thing about it, muttered Langweilig, is, how are yougoing to prove him wrong? But it does give you a small feeling.     Can we have something to eat? asked the Captain.     Pick from the trees, said Ha-Adamah, and then it may be that youwill want to sleep on the grass. Being not of human nature (which doesnot need sleep or rest), it may be that you require respite. But youare free to enjoy the garden and its fruits.     We will, said Captain Stark.     They wandered about the place, but they were uneasy. There were theanimals. The lion and lioness were enough to make one cautious, thoughthey offered no harm. The two bears had a puzzling look, as though theywanted either to frolic with you or to mangle you.     If there are only two people here, said Casper Craig, then it may bethat the rest of the world is not dangerous at all. It looked fertilewherever we scanned it, though not so fertile as this central bit. Andthose rocks would bear examining.     Flecked with gold, and possibly with something else, said Stark. Avery promising site.     And everything grows here, added Steiner. Those are Earth-fruits andI never saw finer. I've tasted the grapes and plums and pears. The figsand dates are superb, the quince is as flavorsome as a quince can be,the cherries are excellent. And I never did taste such oranges. But Ihaven't yet tried the— and he stopped.     If you're thinking what I'm afraid to think, said Gilbert, then itwill be the test at least: whether we're having a pleasant dream orwhether this is reality. Go ahead and eat one.     I won't be the first to eat one. You eat.     Ask him first. You ask him.     Ha-Adamah, is it allowed to eat the apples?     Certainly. Eat. It is the finest fruit in the garden.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the response of people when they hear the name of the narrator in the story ""I, the Unspeakable""?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in Wanderers of the Wolf Moon? [SEP] <s>  Wanderers of the Wolf Moon     By NELSON S. BOND     They were marooned on Titan, their ship wrecked,     the radio smashed. Yet they had to exist, had     to build a new life on a hostile world. And the     man who assumed command was Gregory Malcolm, the     bespectacled secretary—whose only adventures     had come through the pages of a book.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Spring 1944.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Sparks snapped off the switches and followed him to the door of theradio turret. Sparks was a stunted, usually-grinning, little redheadnamed Hannigan. But he wasn't grinning now. He laid an anxious hand onGreg's arm. If I was you, he said, if I was you, Malcolm, I don'tthink I'd say nothing to the boss about this. Not just yet, anyhow.     Greg said, Why not?     Sparks spluttered and fussed and made heavy weather of answering.     Well, for one thing, it ain't important. It would only worry him. Andthen there's the womenfolks, they scare easy. Which of course theyain't no cause to. Atmospherics don't mean nothing. I've rode outworse storms than this—plenty of times. And in worse crates than the      Carefree     .     Greg studied him carefully from behind trim plasta-rimmed spectacles.He drew a deep breath. He said levelly, So it's      that     bad, eh,Sparks?     What bad? I just told you—     I know. Sparks, I'm not a professional spaceman. But I've studiedastrogation as few Earthlubbers have. It's been my hobby for years. AndI think I know what we're up against.     We hit a warp-eddy last night. We've been trapped in a vortex formore than eight hours. Lord only knows how many hundreds of thousandsof miles we've been borne off our course. And now we've blasted into asuper-ionized belt of atmospherics. Your radio signals are blanketed.You can't get signals in or out. We're a deaf-mute speck of metal beingwhirled headlong through space. Isn't that it?     I don't know what— began Sparks hotly. Then he stopped, studied hiscompanion thoughtfully, nodded. O.Q., he confessed, that's it. Butwe ain't licked yet. We got three good men on the bridge. Townsend ...Graves ... Langhorn. They'll pull out of this if anybody can. And theyain't no sense in scaring the Old Man and his family.     I won't tell them, said Greg. I won't tell them unless I have to.But between you and me, what are the odds against us, Sparks?     The radioman shrugged.     Who knows? Vortices are unpredictable. Maybe the damn thing will tossus out on the very spot it picked us up. Maybe it will give us the oldchuckeroo a million miles the other side of Pluto. Maybe it will crackus up on an asteroid or satellite. No way of telling till it happens.     And the controls?     As useless, said Sparks, as a cow in a cyclone.     So?     We sit tight, said Sparks succinctly, and hope.     Malcolm nodded quietly. He took off his spectacles, breathed on them,wiped them, replaced them. He was tall and fair; in his neat, crisplypressed business suit he appeared even slimmer than he was. But therewas no nervousness in his movements. He moved measuredly. Well, hesaid, that appears to be that. I'm going up to the dining dome.     Sparks stared at him querulously.     You're a queer duck, Malcolm. I don't think you've got a nerve in yourbody.     Nerves are a luxury I can't afford, replied Greg. If anythinghappens—and if there's time to do so—let me know. He paused at thedoor. Good luck, he said.     Clear ether! said Sparks mechanically. He stared after the other manwonderingly for a long moment, then went back to his control banks,shaking his head and muttering.  <doc-sep>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>   HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS     By JIM HARMON     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Every lonely man tries to make friends.     Manet just didn't know when to stop!      William Manet was alone.     In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It wouldgive him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlateloneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take himto start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to beginteaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminablelectures to a bored and captive audience of one.     He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whetherit was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and asdirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal andthink more like a god than any man for generations.     But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearingbore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.     Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was alreadytalking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he hadcut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up andwinked at it whenever he passed that way.     Lately she was winking back at him.     Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh fromhis arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.     No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manetcould only be this lonely on Mars.     Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.     All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middleof the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat,flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in theblack sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moonsand one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The wholegimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one wasneeded here—no human being, at least.     The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn'ttake much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefullyspecified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycombMars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.     They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated peoplefor the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going toisolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manetand his fellows.     The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fareto Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuterservice for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodationsfor couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren'tproviding fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits betweenthe various Overseers. They weren't very providential.     But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offeredwonderful opportunities.     It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship makinga tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning asbright as envy.  <doc-sep>Mickey Cameron, sitting next to me, dug an elbow into my ribs. I don'tsee 'em, Ben, he whispered. Where do you suppose they are?     I blinked. Who?     My folks.     That was something I didn't have to worry about. My parents had died ina strato-jet crash when I was four, so I hadn't needed many of thoseYou are cordially invited cards. Just one, which I'd sent to CharlieTaggart.     Stardust Charlie, we called him, although I never knew why. He was aveteran of Everson's first trip to the Moon nearly twenty-five yearsago, and he was still at it. He was Chief Jetman now on the      LunarLady     , a commercial ore ship on a shuttle between Luna City and WhiteSands.     I remembered how, as a kid, I'd pestered him in the Long IslandSpaceport, tagging after him like a puppy, and how he'd grown to likeme until he became father, mother, and buddy all in one to me. And Iremembered, too, how his recommendation had finally made me a cadet.     My gaze wandered over the faces, but I couldn't find Charlie's. Itwasn't surprising. The      Lunar Lady     was in White Sands now, butliberties, as Charlie said, were as scarce as water on Mars.       It doesn't matter     , I told myself.     Then Mickey stiffened. I see 'em, Ben! There in the fifth row!     Usually Mickey was the same whether in a furnace-hot engine room or agarden party, smiling, accepting whatever the world offered. But now atenseness and an excitement had gripped even him. I was grateful thathe was beside me; we'd been a good team during those final months atthe Academy and I knew we'd be a good team in space. The Universe wasmighty big, but with two of us to face it together, it would be onlyhalf as big.     And then it seemed that all the proud faces were looking at us as if wewere gods. A shiver went through my body. Though it was daytime, I sawthe stars in my mind's vision, the great shining balls of silver, eachlike a voice crying out and pleading to be explored, to be touched bythe sons of Earth.       They expect a lot from us. They expect us to make a new kind ofcivilization and a better place out of Earth. They expect all this anda hell of a lot more. They think there's nothing we can't do.       I felt very small and very humble. I was scared. Damned scared.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>We played. Tune after tune.John knew them all, from thelatest pop melodies to a swing versionof the classic      Rhapsody of TheStars     . He was a quiet guy duringthe next couple of hours, and gettingmore than a few words fromhim seemed as hard as extracting atooth. He'd stand by his fiddle—Imean, his      Zloomph     —with a dreamyexpression in those watery eyes,staring at nothing.     But after one number he studiedFat Boy's clarinet for a moment.Nice clarinet, he mused. Has anunusual hole in the front.     Fat Boy scratched the back ofhis head. You—you mean here?Where the music comes out?     John Smith nodded. Unusual.     Hummm, I thought again.     Awhile later I caught him eyeingmy piano keyboard. What'sthe matter, John?     He pointed.     Oh, there, I said. A cigarettefell out of my ashtray, burnt a holein the key. If The Eye sees it, he'llswear at me in seven languages.     Even there, he said softly,even there....     There was no doubt about it.John Smith was peculiar, but hewas the best bass man this side of amusician's Nirvana.     It didn't take a genius to figureout our situation. Item one: Goon-Face'scountenance had evidencedan excellent imitation of Mephistophelesbefore John began to play.Item two: Goon-Face had beamedlike a kitten with a quart of creamafter John began to play.     Conclusion: If we wanted tokeep eating, we'd have to persuadeJohn Smith to join our combo.     At intermission I said, Howabout a drink, John? Maybe a shotof wine-syrup?     He shook his head.     Then maybe a Venusian fizz?     His grunt was negative.     Then some old-fashioned beer?     He smiled. Yes, I      like     beer.     I escorted him to the bar and assistedhim in his arduous climb ontoa stool.     John, I ventured after he'dtaken an experimental sip, wherehave you been hiding? A guy likeyou should be playing every night.     John yawned. Just got here. FiguredI might need some money soI went to the union. Then I workedon my plan.     Then you need a job. Howabout playing with us steady? Welike your style a lot.     He made a long, low hummingsound which I interpreted as anexpression of intense concentration.I don't know, he finally drawled.     It'd be a steady job, John. Inspirationstruck me. And listen, Ihave an apartment. It's got everything,solar shower, automatic chef,'copter landing—if we ever get a'copter. Plenty of room there fortwo people. You can stay with meand it won't cost you a cent. Andwe'll even pay you over unionwages.     His watery gaze wandered lazilyto the bar mirror, down to the glitteringarray of bottles and then outto the dance floor.     He yawned again and spokeslowly, as if each word were a leadenweight cast reluctantly from histongue:     No, I don't ... care much ...about playing.     What      do     you like to do, John?     His string-bean of a body stiffened.I like to study ancient history ...and I must work on myplan.     Oh Lord, that plan again!     I took a deep breath. Tell meabout it, John. It      must     be interesting.     He made queer clicking noiseswith his mouth that reminded meof a mechanical toy being woundinto motion. The whole foundationof this or any other culture isbased on the history of all the timedimensions, each interwoven withthe other, throughout the ages. Andthe holes provide a means of studyingall of it first hand.       Oh, oh     , I thought.      But you stillhave to eat. Remember, you stillhave to eat.       Trouble is, he went on, thereare so many holes in this universe.     Holes? I kept a straight face.     Certainly. Look around you. Allyou see is holes. These beer bottlesare just holes surrounded by glass.The doors and windows—they'reholes in walls. The mine tunnelsmake a network of holes under thedesert. Caves are holes, animals livein holes, our faces have holes,clothes have holes—millions andmillions of holes!     I winced and thought, humorhim because you gotta eat, yougotta eat.     His voice trembled with emotion.Why, they're everywhere. They'rein pots and pans, in pipes, in rocketjets, in bumpy roads. There are buttonholesand well holes, and shoelaceholes. There are doughnutholes and stocking holes and woodpeckerholes and cheese holes.Oceans lie in holes in the earth,and rivers and canals and valleys.The craters of the Moon are holes.Everything is—     But, John, I said as patiently aspossible, what have these holesgot to do with you?     He glowered at me as if I wereunworthy of such a confidence.What have they to do with me?he shrilled. I can't find the rightone—that's what!     I closed my eyes. Which particularhole are you looking for, John?     He was speaking rapidly againnow.     I was hurrying back to the Universitywith the      Zloomph     to provea point of ancient history to thosefools. They don't believe that instrumentswhich make music actuallyexisted before the tapes! Itwas dark—and some fool researcherhad forgotten to set a force-fieldover the hole—I fell through.     I closed my eyes. Now wait aminute. Did you drop something,lose it in the hole—is that why youhave to find it?     Oh I didn't lose anything important,he snapped,       just     my owntime dimension. And if I don't getback they will think I couldn't provemy theory, that I'm ashamed tocome back, and I'll be discredited.     His chest sagged for an instant.Then he straightened. But there'sstill time for my plan to work out—withthe relative difference takeninto account. Only I get so tiredjust thinking about it.     Yes, I can see where thinkingabout it would tire any one.     He nodded. But it can't be toofar away.     I'd like to hear more about it,I said. But if you're not going toplay with us—     Oh, I'll play with you, hebeamed. I can talk to      you     .      You     understand.     Thank heaven!  <doc-sep>An obscenely cheerful expression upon his gaunt, not too well shavenface, Captain Dylan perched himself upon the edge of a table andlistened, one long booted leg swinging idly. One by one the colonistswere beginning to understand. War is huge and comes with greatsuddenness and always without reason, and there is inevitably a wait,between acts, between the news and the motion, the fear and the rage.     Dylan waited. These people were taking it well, much better than thosein the cities had taken it. But then, these were pioneers. Dylangrinned. Pioneers. Before you settle a planet you boil it and bakeit and purge it of all possible disease. Then you step down gingerlyand inflate your plastic houses, which harden and become warm andimpregnable; and send your machines out to plant and harvest; and setup automatic factories to transmute dirt into coffee; and, without everhaving lifted a finger, you have braved the wilderness, hewed a homeout of the living rock and become a pioneer. Dylan grinned again. Butat least this was better than the wailing of the cities.     This Dylan thought, although he was himself no fighter, no man at allby any standards. This he thought because he was a soldier and anoutcast; to every drunken man the fall of the sober is a happy thing.He stirred restlessly.     By this time the colonists had begun to realize that there wasn't muchto say, and a tall, handsome woman was murmuring distractedly: Lupus,Lupus—doesn't that mean wolves or something?     Dylan began to wish they would get moving, these pioneers. It was verypossible that the aliens would be here soon, and there was no need fordiscussion. There was only one thing to do and that was to clear thehell out, quickly and without argument. They began to see it.     But, when the fear had died down, the resentment came. A number ofwomen began to cluster around Dylan and complain, working up theiranger. Dylan said nothing. Then the man Rossel pushed forward andconfronted him, speaking with a vast annoyance.     See here, soldier, this is our planet. I mean to say, this is our      home     . We demand some protection from the fleet. By God, we've beenpaying the freight for you boys all these years and it's high time youearned your keep. We demand....     It went on and on while Dylan looked at the clock and waited. He hopedthat he could end this quickly. A big gloomy man was in front of himnow and giving him that name of ancient contempt, soldier boy. Thegloomy man wanted to know where the fleet was.     There is no fleet. There are a few hundred half-shot old tubs thatwere obsolete before you were born. There are four or five new jobs forthe brass and the government. That's all the fleet there is.  <doc-sep>  He  took a walk.     The town was just comingto life. People were strollingout of their houses, commentingon the weather, chucklingamiably about local affairs.Kids on bicycles were beginningto appear, jangling thelittle bells and hooting toeach other. A woman, hangingwash in the back yard,called out to him, thinkinghe was somebody else.     He found a little park, nomore than twenty yards incircumference, centeredaround a weatherbeaten monumentof some unrecognizablemilitary figure. Threeold men took their places onthe bench that circled theGeneral, and leaned on theircanes.     Sol was a civil engineer.But he made like a reporter.     Pardon me, sir. The oldman, leathery-faced, with afine yellow moustache, lookedat him dumbly. Have youever heard of Armagon?     You a stranger?     Yes.     Thought so.     Sol repeated the question.     Course I did. Been goin'there ever since I was a kid.Night-times, that is.     How—I mean, what kindof place is it?     Said you're a stranger?     Yes.     Then 'tain't your business.     That was that.     He left the park, and wanderedinto a thriving luncheonette.He tried questioningthe man behind the counter,who merely snickered andsaid: You stayin' with theDawes, ain't you? Better askWillie, then. He knows theplace better than anybody.     He asked about the execution,and the man stiffened.     Don't think I can talkabout that. Fella broke one ofthe Laws; that's about it.Don't see where you comeinto it.     At eleven o'clock, he returnedto the Dawes residence,and found Mom in thekitchen, surrounded by thewarm nostalgic odor of home-bakedbread. She told himthat her husband had left amessage for the stranger, informinghim that the StatePolice would be around to gethis story.     He waited in the house,gloomily turning the pages ofthe local newspaper, searchingfor references to Armagon.He found nothing.     At eleven-thirty, a brown-facedState Trooper came tocall, and Sol told his story.He was promised nothing,and told to stay in town untilhe was contacted again bythe authorities.     Mom fixed him a lightlunch, the greatest feature ofwhich was some hot biscuitsshe plucked out of the oven.It made him feel almost normal.     He wandered around thetown some more after lunch,trying to spark conversationwith the residents.     He learned little. <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in Wanderers of the Wolf Moon?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Who is accompanying Malcolm on the life skiff in Wanderers of the Wolf Moon? [SEP] <s>  Wanderers of the Wolf Moon     By NELSON S. BOND     They were marooned on Titan, their ship wrecked,     the radio smashed. Yet they had to exist, had     to build a new life on a hostile world. And the     man who assumed command was Gregory Malcolm, the     bespectacled secretary—whose only adventures     had come through the pages of a book.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Spring 1944.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Sparks snapped off the switches and followed him to the door of theradio turret. Sparks was a stunted, usually-grinning, little redheadnamed Hannigan. But he wasn't grinning now. He laid an anxious hand onGreg's arm. If I was you, he said, if I was you, Malcolm, I don'tthink I'd say nothing to the boss about this. Not just yet, anyhow.     Greg said, Why not?     Sparks spluttered and fussed and made heavy weather of answering.     Well, for one thing, it ain't important. It would only worry him. Andthen there's the womenfolks, they scare easy. Which of course theyain't no cause to. Atmospherics don't mean nothing. I've rode outworse storms than this—plenty of times. And in worse crates than the      Carefree     .     Greg studied him carefully from behind trim plasta-rimmed spectacles.He drew a deep breath. He said levelly, So it's      that     bad, eh,Sparks?     What bad? I just told you—     I know. Sparks, I'm not a professional spaceman. But I've studiedastrogation as few Earthlubbers have. It's been my hobby for years. AndI think I know what we're up against.     We hit a warp-eddy last night. We've been trapped in a vortex formore than eight hours. Lord only knows how many hundreds of thousandsof miles we've been borne off our course. And now we've blasted into asuper-ionized belt of atmospherics. Your radio signals are blanketed.You can't get signals in or out. We're a deaf-mute speck of metal beingwhirled headlong through space. Isn't that it?     I don't know what— began Sparks hotly. Then he stopped, studied hiscompanion thoughtfully, nodded. O.Q., he confessed, that's it. Butwe ain't licked yet. We got three good men on the bridge. Townsend ...Graves ... Langhorn. They'll pull out of this if anybody can. And theyain't no sense in scaring the Old Man and his family.     I won't tell them, said Greg. I won't tell them unless I have to.But between you and me, what are the odds against us, Sparks?     The radioman shrugged.     Who knows? Vortices are unpredictable. Maybe the damn thing will tossus out on the very spot it picked us up. Maybe it will give us the oldchuckeroo a million miles the other side of Pluto. Maybe it will crackus up on an asteroid or satellite. No way of telling till it happens.     And the controls?     As useless, said Sparks, as a cow in a cyclone.     So?     We sit tight, said Sparks succinctly, and hope.     Malcolm nodded quietly. He took off his spectacles, breathed on them,wiped them, replaced them. He was tall and fair; in his neat, crisplypressed business suit he appeared even slimmer than he was. But therewas no nervousness in his movements. He moved measuredly. Well, hesaid, that appears to be that. I'm going up to the dining dome.     Sparks stared at him querulously.     You're a queer duck, Malcolm. I don't think you've got a nerve in yourbody.     Nerves are a luxury I can't afford, replied Greg. If anythinghappens—and if there's time to do so—let me know. He paused at thedoor. Good luck, he said.     Clear ether! said Sparks mechanically. He stared after the other manwonderingly for a long moment, then went back to his control banks,shaking his head and muttering.  <doc-sep>Hannigan said, Looks bad, don't it?     Very, said Malcolm. He fingered a shard of loose metal flapping likea fin from the stern of the skiff. Not hopeless, though. There shouldbe an acetylene torch in the tool locker. With that—     You ought to of poked him, said Hannigan.     What? Oh, you mean—?     Yeah. The kid was right, you know. He done it.     His sleeve, you mean. Well, it was an accident, said Greg. It couldhave happened to anyone. And he made a good landing. Consideringeverything. Anyhow— Again he was Gregory Malcolm, serious-faced,efficient secretary. Anyhow, we have been thrust into an extremelyprecarious circumstance. It would be silly to take umbrage at a man'snervous anger. We must have no quarreling, no bickering—     Umbrage! snorted Sparks. Bickering! They're big words. I ain't sureI know what they mean. I ain't exactly sure they mean      anything     . Heglanced at Greg oddly. You're a queer jasper, Malcolm. Back thereon the ship, I figured you for a sort of a stuffed-shirt. Yes-man tothe boss. And then in the show-down, you come through like a moviehero—for a little while. Then you let that Breadon guy give you thespur without a squawk—     Malcolm adjusted his plasta-rimmed spectacles. He said, almoststubbornly, Our situation is grave. There must be no bickering.     Bickering your Aunt Jenny! What do you call that?     Sparks jerked a contemptuous thumb toward the group from which theywere separated. Upon disembarking, only Greg and Sparks had moved tomake a careful examination of their damaged craft. The others, moreor less under the direction of Breadon, were making gestures towardremoving certain necessaries from the skiff. Their efforts, slight anduncertain as they were, had already embroiled them in argument.     The gist of their argument, so far as Greg Malcolm could determine, wasthat everyone wanted something to be done, but no two could agree asto just what that something was, and no one seemed to have any burstingdesire to participate in actual physical labor.     J. Foster Andrews, all traces of his former panic and confusion fled,was planted firmly, Napoleonically, some few yards from the open portof the life-skiff, barking impatient orders at little Tommy O'Doulwho—as Greg watched—stumbled from the port bearing a huge armload ofedibles.     'Tina, the maid, was in a frenzy of motion, trying to administer to thecomplaints and demands of Mrs. Andrews (whose immaculate hair-do hadsuffered in the frenetic minutes of their flight) and Crystal Andrews(who knew perfectly well there were sweaters in the life-skiff) andMiss Maud (who wanted a can of prepared dog-food and a can-openerimmediately, and look at poor Cuddles, momsy's 'ittle pet was      so     hungry)!     Bert Andrews was sulkily insisting that it was nonsense to leave thewarmth and security of the skiff anyway, and he wished he had a drink,while the harassed, self-appointed commander of the refugee corps wasshouting at whomever happened, at any given moment, to capture hisdivided and completely frantic attention. His orders were masterpiecesof confusion, developing around one premise that the castaway crewshould immediately set up a camp. Where, how, or with what nonexistentequipment, Breadon did not venture to say.     You see what I mean? demanded Sparks disgustedly.  <doc-sep>It was Ralph Breadon. Gregory looked at him slowly, uncomprehendinglyat first. His hand was reluctant to leave the guiding-gear of thesmall ship which was, now, all that remained to them of civilizationand civilization's wondrous accomplishments. He had not realized untilthis moment that for a while ... for a short, eager, pulse-quickeningwhile ... on his alertness, in his hands, had depended the destiniesof ten men and women. But he knew, suddenly and completely, that itwas for this single moment his whole lifetime had waited. It was forthis brief moment of command that some intuition, some instinct greaterthan knowledge, had prepared him. This was why he, an Earthlubber, hadstudied astrogation, made a hobby of the empire of the stars. That hemight be fitted to command when all others failed. And now—     And now the moment was past, and he was once again Gregory Malcolm,mild, lean, pale, bespectacled secretary to J. Foster Andrews. And theman at his side was Ralph Breadon, socialite and gentleman sportsman,trained pilot. And in Malcolm the habit of obedience was strong....     Very well, sir, he said. And he turned over the controls.     What happened then was unfortunate. It might just as well have happenedto Malcolm, though afterward no one could ever say with certainty.However that was, either by carelessness or malfortune or inefficiency,once-thwarted disaster struck again at the little party on thelife-skiff. At the instant Breadon's hand seized the controls the skiffjerked suddenly as though struck with a ponderous fist, its throbbingmotors choked and snarled in a high, rising crescendo of torment thatlost itself in supersonic heights, and the ship that had been driftingeasily and under control to the planet beneath now dipped viciously.     The misfortune was that too many huddled in the tiny space understoodthe operation of the life-skiff, and what must be done instantly. Andthat neither pilot was as yet in control of the ship. Breadon's handleaped for the Dixie rod, so, too, did Malcolm's—and across both theirbodies came the arm of Sparks Hannigan, searching the controls.     In the scramble someone's sleeve brushed the banks of control-keys. Themotors, killed, soughed into silence. The ship rocked into a spin. Gregcried out, his voice a strange harshness in his ears; Breadon cursed;one of the women bleated fearfully.     Then Breadon, still cursing, fought all hands from the controls but hisown. And the man was not without courage. For all could see plainly,in the illumined      perilens     , how near to swift death that moment ofuncertainty had led them. The skiff, which an instant before had beenhigh in the stratosphere of this unknown planet ... or satelliteor whatever it might be ... was now flashing toward hard ground atlightning speed.  <doc-sep>Greg Malcolm saw. He also saw other things. That their landing-spot,while excellent for its purpose, was not by any manner of means anideal campsite. It was a small, flat basin of sandy soil, rimmed byshallow mountains. His gaze sought these hills, looked approvingly ontheir greenness, upon the multitude of dark pock-marks dotting them.These caves, were they not the habitations of potential enemies, mightwell become the sanctuaries of spacewrecked men.     He saw, also, a thin ribbon of silver sheering the face of the northernhills. His gaze, rising still skyward, saw other things—     He nodded. He knew, now, where they were. Or approximately. There wasbut one planet in the solar system which boasted such a phenomenon. Theapparent distance of the Sun, judged by its diminished disc, arguedhis judgment to be correct. The fact that they had surged through anatmospheric belt for some length of time before finally meeting withdisaster.     Titan, he said. Hyperion possibly. But probably Titan.     Sparks' gaze, following Greg's upward, contracted in an expression ofdismay.     Dirty cow! You mean that's where we are?     I believe so. There's Saturn, our mother planet, looming above us aslarge as a dinner plate. And the grav-drag here is almost Earth norm.Titan has a 3,000 mile diameter. That, combined with the Saturniantractile constant, would give us a strong pull.     Sparks wailed, But Titan! Great morning, Malcolm, nobody ever comesto Titan! There ain't no mines here, no colonies, no— He stoppedsuddenly, his eyes widening yet farther. And, hey—this place is      dangerous     ! There are—     I know it, said Greg swiftly, quietly. Shut up, Sparks. No usetelling the others. If they don't guess it themselves, what they don'tknow won't alarm them. We've got to do something, though. Get ourselvesorganized into a defensive community. That's the only way—     Ralph Breadon's sharp, dictatorial voice interrupted him. Well,Malcolm, stop soldiering and make yourself useful!     And J. Foster, not to have his authority usurped, supplemented theorder. Yes, Malcolm, let's get going! No time for day-dreaming, myman. We want action!     Sparks said, Maybe you'll get it now, fatty! under his breath, andlooked at Malcolm hopefully. But his companion merely nodded, movedforward toward the others, quietly obedient to the command.     Yes, sir, he said.     Hannigan groaned and followed him.      III     Breadon said, All right, Tommy, dump them here. I have a few words tosay. He glanced about him pompously. Now, folks, naturally we wantto get away from here as soon as possible. Therefore I delegate you,Sparks, to immediately get a message off. An SOS to the nearest spacecruiser.     Hannigan grinned. It was not a pleasant grin. He took his timeanswering. He spat thoughtfully on the ground before him, lifted hishead. He said, A message, huh?     That's what I said.     And what'll I send it with? drawled Sparks. Tom-toms?     Breadon flushed darkly.     I believe the life-skiff was equipped with a radio? And theoreticallyyou are a radio operator?     Finest radio money can buy! interpolated J. Foster Andrews proudly.Put a million credits into the      Carefree     . Best equipment throughout.     Sparks looked from one to another of them, grinned insolently. You'reboth right. I      am     a radio operator, and there      was     a radio. But wecrashed, remember? On account of some dope's sleeve got caught in themaster switch—     That will do! snapped Breadon angrily. He stared at the bandy-leggedlittle redhead. You mean the radio was broken?     It wasn't helped none. The tubes was made out of glass, and glassdon't bounce so good.     Greg Malcolm said thoughtfully, Sparks, can't you fix it?     Well, mebbe. But not in five minutes. Maybe not in five years. I won'tknow till I get going on it.     Breadon frowned.     I'll handle this, Malcolm, he crisped. Again to the radioman, Well,you get to work on it immediately. And as soon as you get it fixed,send out an SOS advising the patrol where we are—     Speaking of which, insinuated Sparks, where are we?     Breadon glared at him wrathfully.     Why—why on one of the satellites of Saturn, of course. Any fool cansee that!     O.Q. But does any fool know which one? Or shall I tell you it's Titan?And when you know that, then what? Titan wasn't named that on accountof it was a pimple. It's a big place. What'll I tell the Patrol?      SOS.Stranded in the middle of we-don't-know-where, somewhere on Titan,maybe.     They'll be hunting for us till we've got whiskers down to ourknees.     Breadon's irate look vanished. He looked stricken. He said, I—I don'tknow. We have a compass—     Once again it was Gregory Malcolm who entered into the conversation. Hehad been toying, almost absentmindedly, with a funnel taken from theskiff's stores. Into this he had poured a small portion of water; hisright forefinger was pressed to the bottom of the tube, closing it. Hesaid, I can answer part of that question now. Enough to cut the searchin half, anyway. We're in the northern hemisphere of the satellite.     Maud Andrews looked at him sharply as if noticing him for the firsttime in her life.     How, she asked, did you know that, Malcolm?  <doc-sep>Only a miracle, Greg knew, could save them now. An impulse spun hishead, he looked at Crystal Andrews. There was no fear in her eyes. Justa hotness and an inexplicable anger. Beside her was the other girl, themaid, 'Tina; she was frankly afraid. Her teeth were clenched in hernether lip, and her eyes were wide and anxious, but she did not cry out.     Only a miracle could save them now. But Breadon's hands performedthat miracle; his quick, nerveless, trained hands. A stud here ...a lever there ... a swift wrenching toss of the shoulders. His facetwisted back over his shoulder, and his straining lips pulled tautand bloodless away from his teeth. Hold tight, folks! We're going tobounce—     Then they struck!     But they struck glancingly, as Breadon had hoped, and planned for,and gambled on. They struck and bounced. The frail craft shiveredand groaned in metal agony, jarred across harsh soil, bounced again,settled, nosed over and rocked to a standstill. Somewhere forwardsomething snapped with a shrill, high      ping!     of stress; somewhere aftwas the metallic flap-clanging of broken gear trailing behind them. Butthey were safe.     Breath, held so long that he could not remember its inhalation, escapedGreg's lungs in a long sigh. Nice work, Mr. Breadon! he cried. Oh,nice work!     But surprisingly, savagely, Breadon turned on him.     It would have been      better     work, Malcolm, if you'd kept your damnedhands off the controls! Now see what you've done? Smashed up our skiff!Our only—     He didn't do it! piped the shrill voice of Tommy O'Doul. You done ityourself, Mr. Breadon. Your sleeve. It caught the switch.     Quiet! Breadon, cheeks flushed, reached out smartly, stilledthe youngster's defense with a swift, ungentle slap. And you,Malcolm—after this, do as you're told, and don't try to assumeresponsibilities too great for you. All right, everybody. Let's get outand see how bad the damage is.     Instinctively Greg had surged a half step forward as Breadon silencedthe cabin boy. Now old habit and common-sense halted him. He'soverwrought, he reasoned. We're all excited and on edge. We've been toBedlam. Our nerves are shot. In a little while we'll all be back tonormal.     He said quietly, Very well, Mr. Breadon. And he climbed from thebroken skiff.  <doc-sep>Maud Andrews put down her fork with a clatter. Oh, for goodness sakes,Jonathan, shut up and give the boy time to explain! He's standingthere with his mouth gaping like a rain-spout, trying to get a word inedgewise! What's the trouble, Gregory? She turned to Greg, as JonathanFoster Andrews wheezed into startled silence.       That?          She glanced at the quartzite dome, beyond which the veil of iridescencewove and cross-wove and shimmered like a pallid aurora.     Greg nodded. Yes, Miss Andrews.     Enid Andrews spoke languidly from the other end of the table.     But what is it, Gregory? A local phenomenon?     You might call it that, said Greg, selecting his words cautiously.It's an ionized field into which we've blasted. It—it—shouldn't staywith us long. But while it persists, our radio will be blanketed out.     Breadon's chestnut head came up suddenly, sharply.     Ionization! That means atmosphere!     Greg said, Yes.     And an atmosphere means a body in space somewhere near— Breadonstopped, bit his lip before the appeal in Malcolm's eyes, tried to passit off easily. Oh, well—a change of scenery, what?     But the moment of alarm in his voice had not passed unnoticed. CrystalAndrews spoke for all of them, her voice preternaturally quiet.     You're hiding something, Malcolm. What is it? Is there—danger?     But Greg didn't have to answer that question. From the doorway a harsh,defiantly strident voice answered for him. The voice of Bert Andrews,Crystal's older brother.     Danger? You're damn right there's danger! What's the matter withyou folks—are you all deaf, dumb and blind? We've been caught in aspace-vortex for hours. Now we're in the H-layer of a planet we can'teven see—and in fifteen minutes or fifteen seconds we may all besmashed as flat as pancakes!     The proclamation brought them out of their chairs. Greg's heart sank;his vain plea, Mr. Andrews— was lost in the medley of Crystal'ssudden gasp, Enid Andrews' short, choking scream, J. Foster's bellowingroar at his only son.     Bert—you're drunk!     Bert weaved precariously from the doorway, laughed in his father's face.     Sure I'm drunk! Why not? If you're smart you'll get drunk, too. Thewhole damn lot of you! He flicked a derisive hand toward Greg. Youtoo, Boy Scout! What were you trying to do—hide the bad news fromthem? Well, it's no use. Everybody might as well know the worst. We'regone gooses ... geeses ... aw, what the hell! Dead ducks! He fellinto a chair, sprawled there laughing mirthlessly with fear riding thetoo-high notes of his laughter.     J. Foster turned to his secretary slowly. His ire had faded; there wasonly deep concern in his voice.     Is he telling the truth, Malcolm?     Greg said soberly, Partly, sir. He's overstating the danger—butthere is danger. We are caught in a space-vortex, and as Mr.Breadon realized, the presence of these ionics means we're in theHeaviside-layer of some heavenly body. But we may not crack up.     Maud Andrews glanced at him shrewdly.     Is there anything we can do?     Not a thing. The officers on the bridge are doing everything possible.     In that case, said the older woman, we might as well finish ourbreakfast. Here, Cuddles! Come to momsy! She sat down again. Greglooked at her admiringly. Ralph Breadon stroked his brown jaw. He said,The life-skiffs?     A last resort, said Greg. Sparks promised he'd let me know if itwere necessary. We'll hope it's not—     But it was a vain hope, vainly spoken in the last, vain moment. Foreven as he phrased the hopeful words, came the sound of swift, racingfootsteps up the corridor. Into the dining dome burst Hannigan, eyeshot with excitement. And his cry dispelled Greg's final hopes forsafety.     Everybody—the Number Four life-skiff—      quick     ! We've been caught in agrav-drag and we're going to crash!      II     Those next hectic moments were never afterward very clear in GregMalcolm's memory. He had a confused recollection of hearing Sparks'warning punctuated by a loud, shrill scream which he vaguely identifiedas emanating from Mrs. Andrews' throat ... he was conscious of feeling,suddenly, beneath his feet the sickening, quickening lurch of a shipout of control, gripped by gravitational forces beyond its power toallay ... he recalled his own voice dinning in his ears as, incredibly,with Sparks, he took command of the hasty flight from the dining domedown the corridor to the aft ramp, up the ramp, across girdered beamsin the super-structure to the small, independently motored rocket-skiffcradled there.     He was aware, too, of strangely disconnected incidents happening aroundhim, he being a part of them but seeming to be only a disinterestedspectator to their strangeness. Of his forcing Maud Andrews towardthe door of the dome ... of her pushing back against him with all theweight of her body ... of her irate voice, Cuddles! I forgot him!Then the shrill excited yapping of the poodle cradled against her asthey charged on down the corridor.     J. Foster waddling beside him, tugging at his arm, panting, Theofficers? and his own unfelt assurance. They can take care ofthemselves. It's a general 'bandon ship. Enid Andrews stumbling overthe hem of a filmy peignoir ... himself bending to lift her boldly andbodily, sweating palms feeling the warm animal heat of her excitedbody hot beneath them ... Crystal Andrews stopping suddenly, crying,'Tina! ... and Hannigan's reply, Your maid? I woke her. She's in thelife-skiff. Bert Andrews stopping suddenly, being sick in the middleof the corridor, his drunkenness losing itself in the thick, surenausea of the ever-increasing unsteadiness beneath their feet.     Then the life-skiff, the clang of metal as Hannigan slammed theport behind the last of them, the fumbling for a lock-stud, thequick, grateful pant of the miniature hypos, and a weird feeling ofweightlessness, rushingness, hurtlingness as his eardrums throbbed andhis mouth tasted brassy and bloody with the fierce velocity of theirescape.     Sense and meaning returned only when all this ended. As one waking froma nightmare dream, Greg Malcolm returned to a world he could recognize.A tiny world, encased within the walls of a forty-foot life-skiff. Aworld peopled too scantily. Andrews, his wife and sister, his son anddaughter; 'Tina Laney, the maid; Breadon, Hannigan, young Tommy O'Doul,the cabin-boy (though where he had come from, or when, Greg did notknow). And himself. In a life-skiff. In space.     Somewhere in space. He looked through the      perilens     . What he saw thenhe might better never have seen. For that shimmering pink-ochre veilhad wisped away, now, and in the clean, cold, bitter-clear light of adistant sun he watched the death-dive of the yacht      Carefree     .     Like a vast silver top, spinning heedlessly, wildly, it streaked towarda mottled gray and green, brown and dun, hard and crushing-brutalterrain below. Still at its helm stood someone, for even in that lastdreadful moment burst from its nose-jets a ruddy mushroom of flame thattried to, but could not, brake the dizzy fall.     For an instant Greg's eyes, stingingly blinded and wet, thought theyglimpsed a wee black mote dancing from the bowels of the      Carefree     ; amote that might be another skiff like their own. But he could not besure, and then the      Carefree     was accelerating with such violence andspeed that the eye could see it only as a flaming silver lance againstthe ugly earth-carcase beneath, and then it struck and a carmine bud offlame burst and flowered for an instant, and that was all....     And Greg Malcolm turned from the      perilens     , shaken.     Hannigan said, It's over? and Greg nodded.     Hannigan said, The other skiffs? Did they break free, or were theycaught?     I don't know. I couldn't see for sure.     You must have seen. Are we the only ones?     I couldn't see for sure. Maybe. Maybe not.     Then a body scrambled forward, pressing through the tightness of otherhuddled bodies, and there was a hand upon his elbow. I'll take overnow, Malcolm.  <doc-sep>The mail pilot, a leathery veteran with quarter-inch whiskers, spattoward a stained corner of the compartment, leaned close to the screen.     They's shootin' goin' on down there, he said. See them white puffsover the edge of the desert?     I'm supposed to be preventing the war, said Retief. It looks likeI'm a little late.     The pilot's head snapped around. War? he yelped. Nobody told me theywas a war goin' on on 'Dobe. If that's what that is, I'm gettin' out ofhere.     Hold on, said Retief. I've got to get down. They won't shoot at you.     They shore won't, sonny. I ain't givin' 'em the chance. He startedpunching keys on the console. Retief reached out, caught his wrist.     Maybe you didn't hear me. I said I've got to get down.     The pilot plunged against the restraint, swung a punch that Retiefblocked casually. Are you nuts? the pilot screeched. They's plentyshootin' goin' on fer me to see it fifty miles out.     The mail must go through, you know.     Okay! You're so dead set on gettin' killed, you take the skiff. I'lltell 'em to pick up the remains next trip.     You're a pal. I'll take your offer.     The pilot jumped to the lifeboat hatch and cycled it open. Get in.We're closin' fast. Them birds might take it into their heads to lobone this way....     Retief crawled into the narrow cockpit of the skiff, glanced over thecontrols. The pilot ducked out of sight, came back, handed Retief aheavy old-fashioned power pistol. Long as you're goin' in, might aswell take this.     Thanks. Retief shoved the pistol in his belt. I hope you're wrong.     I'll see they pick you up when the shootin's over—one way or another.     The hatch clanked shut. A moment later there was a jar as the skiffdropped away, followed by heavy buffeting in the backwash from thedeparting mail boat. Retief watched the tiny screen, hands on themanual controls. He was dropping rapidly: forty miles, thirty-nine....     A crimson blip showed on the screen, moving out.     Retief felt sweat pop out on his forehead. The red blip meant heavyradiation from a warhead. Somebody was playing around with an outlawedbut by no means unheard of fission weapon. But maybe it was just on ahigh trajectory and had no connection with the skiff....     Retief altered course to the south. The blip followed.     He checked instrument readings, gripped the controls, watching. Thiswas going to be tricky. The missile bored closer. At five miles Retiefthrew the light skiff into maximum acceleration, straight toward theoncoming bomb. Crushed back in the padded seat, he watched the screen,correcting course minutely. The proximity fuse should be set for nomore than 1000 yards.     At a combined speed of two miles per second, the skiff flashed pastthe missile, and Retief was slammed violently against the restrainingharness in the concussion of the explosion ... a mile astern, andharmless.     Then the planetary surface was rushing up with frightening speed.Retief shook his head, kicked in the emergency retro-drive. Pointsof light arced up from the planet face below. If they were ordinarychemical warheads the skiff's meteor screens should handle them. Thescreen flashed brilliant white, then went dark. The skiff flipped onits back. Smoke filled the tiny compartment. There was a series ofshocks, a final bone-shaking concussion, then stillness, broken by theping of hot metal contracting.  <doc-sep>Gregory Malcolm climbed down the Jacob's-ladder and strode brisklythrough the labyrinthine corridors that were the entrails of thespace yacht      Carefree     . He paused once to peer through a      perilens     set into the ship's port plates. It was a weird sight that met hisgaze. Not space, ebony-black and bejewelled with a myriad flamingsplotches of color; not the old, familiar constellations treadingtheir ever-lasting, inexorable paths about the perimeter of Sol'stiny universe, but a shimmering webwork of light, so tortured-violetthat the eyes ached to look upon it. This was the mad typhoon ofspace-atmospherics through which the      Carefree     was now being twisted,topsy-turvy, toward a nameless goal.     He moved on, approaching at last the quartzite-paned observationrotunda which was the dining dome of the ship.     His footsteps slowed as he composed himself to face those within. Ashe hesitated in the dimly-lighted passage, a trick of lights on glassmirrored to him the room beyond. He could see the others while theywere as yet unaware of his presence. Their voices reached him clearly.     J. Foster Andrews, his employer and the employer of the ten thousandor more men and women who worked for Galactic Metals Corporation,dominated the head of the table. He was a plump, impatient littleNapoleon. Opposite him, calm, graceful, serene, tastefully garbed andelaborately coiffured even here in deep space, three weeks from thenearest beauty shop, sat his wife, Enid.     On Andrews' right sat his sister, Maud. Not young, features plain as amud fence, but charming despite her age and homeliness simply becauseof her eyes; puckish, shrewdly intelligent eyes, constantly aglint withsuppressed humor at—guessed Greg—the amusing foibles and frailties ofthose about her.     She gave her breakfast the enthusiastic attention of one too old andshapeless to be concerned with such folderol as calories and dietetics,pausing only from time to time to share smidgeons of food with awatery-eyed scrap of white, curly fluff beside her chair. Her petpoodle, whom she called by the opprobrious title of Cuddles.     On J. Foster's left sat his daughter, Crystal. She it was who causedGregory Malcolm's staid, respectable heart to give a little lurch ashe glimpsed her reflected vision—all gold and crimson and cream—inthe glistening walls. If Crystal was her name, so, too, was crystal herloveliness.     But—Greg shook his head—but she was not for him. She was alreadypledged to the young man seated beside her. Ralph Breadon. He turnedto murmur something to her as Greg watched; Greg saw and admired anddisliked his rangy height, his sturdy, well-knit strength, the richbrownness of his skin, his hair, his eyes.     The sound of his own name startled Greg.     Malcolm! called the man at the head of the table. Malcolm! Now wherein blazes is he, anyhow? he demanded of no one in particular, everyonein general. He spooned a dab of liquid gold from a Limoges preservejar, tongued it suspiciously, frowned. Bitter! he complained.     It's the very      best     Martian honey, said his wife.     Drylands clover, added Crystal.     It's still bitter, said J. Foster petulantly.     His sister sniffed. Nonsense! It's delightful.     I say it's bitter, repeated Andrews sulkily. And lifted his voiceagain.       Malcolm!     Where      are     you?     You called me, sir? said Malcolm, moving into the room. He noddedpolitely to the others. Good morning, Mrs. Andrews ... MissAndrews ... Mr. Breadon....     Oh, sit down! snapped J. Foster. Sit down here and stop bobbing yourhead like a teetotum! Had your breakfast? The honey's no good; it'sbitter. He glared at his sister challengingly. Where have you been,anyway? What kind of secretary are you? Have you been up to the radioturret? How's the market today? Is Galactic up or down?     Malcolm said, I don't know, sir.     Fine! Fine! Andrews rattled on automatically before the wordsregistered. Then he started, his face turning red. Eh? What's that?Don't know! What do you mean, you don't know? I pay you to—     There's no transmission, sir, said Greg quietly.     No trans—nonsense! Of course there's transmission! I put a millioncredits into this ship. Finest space-yacht ever built. Latest equipmentthroughout. Sparks is drunk, that's what you mean! Well, you hop rightup there and—  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Who is accompanying Malcolm on the life skiff in Wanderers of the Wolf Moon?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the connection between Malcolm and Breadon in Wanderers of the Wolf Moon? [SEP] <s>Greg Malcolm saw. He also saw other things. That their landing-spot,while excellent for its purpose, was not by any manner of means anideal campsite. It was a small, flat basin of sandy soil, rimmed byshallow mountains. His gaze sought these hills, looked approvingly ontheir greenness, upon the multitude of dark pock-marks dotting them.These caves, were they not the habitations of potential enemies, mightwell become the sanctuaries of spacewrecked men.     He saw, also, a thin ribbon of silver sheering the face of the northernhills. His gaze, rising still skyward, saw other things—     He nodded. He knew, now, where they were. Or approximately. There wasbut one planet in the solar system which boasted such a phenomenon. Theapparent distance of the Sun, judged by its diminished disc, arguedhis judgment to be correct. The fact that they had surged through anatmospheric belt for some length of time before finally meeting withdisaster.     Titan, he said. Hyperion possibly. But probably Titan.     Sparks' gaze, following Greg's upward, contracted in an expression ofdismay.     Dirty cow! You mean that's where we are?     I believe so. There's Saturn, our mother planet, looming above us aslarge as a dinner plate. And the grav-drag here is almost Earth norm.Titan has a 3,000 mile diameter. That, combined with the Saturniantractile constant, would give us a strong pull.     Sparks wailed, But Titan! Great morning, Malcolm, nobody ever comesto Titan! There ain't no mines here, no colonies, no— He stoppedsuddenly, his eyes widening yet farther. And, hey—this place is      dangerous     ! There are—     I know it, said Greg swiftly, quietly. Shut up, Sparks. No usetelling the others. If they don't guess it themselves, what they don'tknow won't alarm them. We've got to do something, though. Get ourselvesorganized into a defensive community. That's the only way—     Ralph Breadon's sharp, dictatorial voice interrupted him. Well,Malcolm, stop soldiering and make yourself useful!     And J. Foster, not to have his authority usurped, supplemented theorder. Yes, Malcolm, let's get going! No time for day-dreaming, myman. We want action!     Sparks said, Maybe you'll get it now, fatty! under his breath, andlooked at Malcolm hopefully. But his companion merely nodded, movedforward toward the others, quietly obedient to the command.     Yes, sir, he said.     Hannigan groaned and followed him.      III     Breadon said, All right, Tommy, dump them here. I have a few words tosay. He glanced about him pompously. Now, folks, naturally we wantto get away from here as soon as possible. Therefore I delegate you,Sparks, to immediately get a message off. An SOS to the nearest spacecruiser.     Hannigan grinned. It was not a pleasant grin. He took his timeanswering. He spat thoughtfully on the ground before him, lifted hishead. He said, A message, huh?     That's what I said.     And what'll I send it with? drawled Sparks. Tom-toms?     Breadon flushed darkly.     I believe the life-skiff was equipped with a radio? And theoreticallyyou are a radio operator?     Finest radio money can buy! interpolated J. Foster Andrews proudly.Put a million credits into the      Carefree     . Best equipment throughout.     Sparks looked from one to another of them, grinned insolently. You'reboth right. I      am     a radio operator, and there      was     a radio. But wecrashed, remember? On account of some dope's sleeve got caught in themaster switch—     That will do! snapped Breadon angrily. He stared at the bandy-leggedlittle redhead. You mean the radio was broken?     It wasn't helped none. The tubes was made out of glass, and glassdon't bounce so good.     Greg Malcolm said thoughtfully, Sparks, can't you fix it?     Well, mebbe. But not in five minutes. Maybe not in five years. I won'tknow till I get going on it.     Breadon frowned.     I'll handle this, Malcolm, he crisped. Again to the radioman, Well,you get to work on it immediately. And as soon as you get it fixed,send out an SOS advising the patrol where we are—     Speaking of which, insinuated Sparks, where are we?     Breadon glared at him wrathfully.     Why—why on one of the satellites of Saturn, of course. Any fool cansee that!     O.Q. But does any fool know which one? Or shall I tell you it's Titan?And when you know that, then what? Titan wasn't named that on accountof it was a pimple. It's a big place. What'll I tell the Patrol?      SOS.Stranded in the middle of we-don't-know-where, somewhere on Titan,maybe.     They'll be hunting for us till we've got whiskers down to ourknees.     Breadon's irate look vanished. He looked stricken. He said, I—I don'tknow. We have a compass—     Once again it was Gregory Malcolm who entered into the conversation. Hehad been toying, almost absentmindedly, with a funnel taken from theskiff's stores. Into this he had poured a small portion of water; hisright forefinger was pressed to the bottom of the tube, closing it. Hesaid, I can answer part of that question now. Enough to cut the searchin half, anyway. We're in the northern hemisphere of the satellite.     Maud Andrews looked at him sharply as if noticing him for the firsttime in her life.     How, she asked, did you know that, Malcolm?  <doc-sep>  Wanderers of the Wolf Moon     By NELSON S. BOND     They were marooned on Titan, their ship wrecked,     the radio smashed. Yet they had to exist, had     to build a new life on a hostile world. And the     man who assumed command was Gregory Malcolm, the     bespectacled secretary—whose only adventures     had come through the pages of a book.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Spring 1944.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Sparks snapped off the switches and followed him to the door of theradio turret. Sparks was a stunted, usually-grinning, little redheadnamed Hannigan. But he wasn't grinning now. He laid an anxious hand onGreg's arm. If I was you, he said, if I was you, Malcolm, I don'tthink I'd say nothing to the boss about this. Not just yet, anyhow.     Greg said, Why not?     Sparks spluttered and fussed and made heavy weather of answering.     Well, for one thing, it ain't important. It would only worry him. Andthen there's the womenfolks, they scare easy. Which of course theyain't no cause to. Atmospherics don't mean nothing. I've rode outworse storms than this—plenty of times. And in worse crates than the      Carefree     .     Greg studied him carefully from behind trim plasta-rimmed spectacles.He drew a deep breath. He said levelly, So it's      that     bad, eh,Sparks?     What bad? I just told you—     I know. Sparks, I'm not a professional spaceman. But I've studiedastrogation as few Earthlubbers have. It's been my hobby for years. AndI think I know what we're up against.     We hit a warp-eddy last night. We've been trapped in a vortex formore than eight hours. Lord only knows how many hundreds of thousandsof miles we've been borne off our course. And now we've blasted into asuper-ionized belt of atmospherics. Your radio signals are blanketed.You can't get signals in or out. We're a deaf-mute speck of metal beingwhirled headlong through space. Isn't that it?     I don't know what— began Sparks hotly. Then he stopped, studied hiscompanion thoughtfully, nodded. O.Q., he confessed, that's it. Butwe ain't licked yet. We got three good men on the bridge. Townsend ...Graves ... Langhorn. They'll pull out of this if anybody can. And theyain't no sense in scaring the Old Man and his family.     I won't tell them, said Greg. I won't tell them unless I have to.But between you and me, what are the odds against us, Sparks?     The radioman shrugged.     Who knows? Vortices are unpredictable. Maybe the damn thing will tossus out on the very spot it picked us up. Maybe it will give us the oldchuckeroo a million miles the other side of Pluto. Maybe it will crackus up on an asteroid or satellite. No way of telling till it happens.     And the controls?     As useless, said Sparks, as a cow in a cyclone.     So?     We sit tight, said Sparks succinctly, and hope.     Malcolm nodded quietly. He took off his spectacles, breathed on them,wiped them, replaced them. He was tall and fair; in his neat, crisplypressed business suit he appeared even slimmer than he was. But therewas no nervousness in his movements. He moved measuredly. Well, hesaid, that appears to be that. I'm going up to the dining dome.     Sparks stared at him querulously.     You're a queer duck, Malcolm. I don't think you've got a nerve in yourbody.     Nerves are a luxury I can't afford, replied Greg. If anythinghappens—and if there's time to do so—let me know. He paused at thedoor. Good luck, he said.     Clear ether! said Sparks mechanically. He stared after the other manwonderingly for a long moment, then went back to his control banks,shaking his head and muttering.  <doc-sep>It was Ralph Breadon. Gregory looked at him slowly, uncomprehendinglyat first. His hand was reluctant to leave the guiding-gear of thesmall ship which was, now, all that remained to them of civilizationand civilization's wondrous accomplishments. He had not realized untilthis moment that for a while ... for a short, eager, pulse-quickeningwhile ... on his alertness, in his hands, had depended the destiniesof ten men and women. But he knew, suddenly and completely, that itwas for this single moment his whole lifetime had waited. It was forthis brief moment of command that some intuition, some instinct greaterthan knowledge, had prepared him. This was why he, an Earthlubber, hadstudied astrogation, made a hobby of the empire of the stars. That hemight be fitted to command when all others failed. And now—     And now the moment was past, and he was once again Gregory Malcolm,mild, lean, pale, bespectacled secretary to J. Foster Andrews. And theman at his side was Ralph Breadon, socialite and gentleman sportsman,trained pilot. And in Malcolm the habit of obedience was strong....     Very well, sir, he said. And he turned over the controls.     What happened then was unfortunate. It might just as well have happenedto Malcolm, though afterward no one could ever say with certainty.However that was, either by carelessness or malfortune or inefficiency,once-thwarted disaster struck again at the little party on thelife-skiff. At the instant Breadon's hand seized the controls the skiffjerked suddenly as though struck with a ponderous fist, its throbbingmotors choked and snarled in a high, rising crescendo of torment thatlost itself in supersonic heights, and the ship that had been driftingeasily and under control to the planet beneath now dipped viciously.     The misfortune was that too many huddled in the tiny space understoodthe operation of the life-skiff, and what must be done instantly. Andthat neither pilot was as yet in control of the ship. Breadon's handleaped for the Dixie rod, so, too, did Malcolm's—and across both theirbodies came the arm of Sparks Hannigan, searching the controls.     In the scramble someone's sleeve brushed the banks of control-keys. Themotors, killed, soughed into silence. The ship rocked into a spin. Gregcried out, his voice a strange harshness in his ears; Breadon cursed;one of the women bleated fearfully.     Then Breadon, still cursing, fought all hands from the controls but hisown. And the man was not without courage. For all could see plainly,in the illumined      perilens     , how near to swift death that moment ofuncertainty had led them. The skiff, which an instant before had beenhigh in the stratosphere of this unknown planet ... or satelliteor whatever it might be ... was now flashing toward hard ground atlightning speed.  <doc-sep>Hannigan said, Looks bad, don't it?     Very, said Malcolm. He fingered a shard of loose metal flapping likea fin from the stern of the skiff. Not hopeless, though. There shouldbe an acetylene torch in the tool locker. With that—     You ought to of poked him, said Hannigan.     What? Oh, you mean—?     Yeah. The kid was right, you know. He done it.     His sleeve, you mean. Well, it was an accident, said Greg. It couldhave happened to anyone. And he made a good landing. Consideringeverything. Anyhow— Again he was Gregory Malcolm, serious-faced,efficient secretary. Anyhow, we have been thrust into an extremelyprecarious circumstance. It would be silly to take umbrage at a man'snervous anger. We must have no quarreling, no bickering—     Umbrage! snorted Sparks. Bickering! They're big words. I ain't sureI know what they mean. I ain't exactly sure they mean      anything     . Heglanced at Greg oddly. You're a queer jasper, Malcolm. Back thereon the ship, I figured you for a sort of a stuffed-shirt. Yes-man tothe boss. And then in the show-down, you come through like a moviehero—for a little while. Then you let that Breadon guy give you thespur without a squawk—     Malcolm adjusted his plasta-rimmed spectacles. He said, almoststubbornly, Our situation is grave. There must be no bickering.     Bickering your Aunt Jenny! What do you call that?     Sparks jerked a contemptuous thumb toward the group from which theywere separated. Upon disembarking, only Greg and Sparks had moved tomake a careful examination of their damaged craft. The others, moreor less under the direction of Breadon, were making gestures towardremoving certain necessaries from the skiff. Their efforts, slight anduncertain as they were, had already embroiled them in argument.     The gist of their argument, so far as Greg Malcolm could determine, wasthat everyone wanted something to be done, but no two could agree asto just what that something was, and no one seemed to have any burstingdesire to participate in actual physical labor.     J. Foster Andrews, all traces of his former panic and confusion fled,was planted firmly, Napoleonically, some few yards from the open portof the life-skiff, barking impatient orders at little Tommy O'Doulwho—as Greg watched—stumbled from the port bearing a huge armload ofedibles.     'Tina, the maid, was in a frenzy of motion, trying to administer to thecomplaints and demands of Mrs. Andrews (whose immaculate hair-do hadsuffered in the frenetic minutes of their flight) and Crystal Andrews(who knew perfectly well there were sweaters in the life-skiff) andMiss Maud (who wanted a can of prepared dog-food and a can-openerimmediately, and look at poor Cuddles, momsy's 'ittle pet was      so     hungry)!     Bert Andrews was sulkily insisting that it was nonsense to leave thewarmth and security of the skiff anyway, and he wished he had a drink,while the harassed, self-appointed commander of the refugee corps wasshouting at whomever happened, at any given moment, to capture hisdivided and completely frantic attention. His orders were masterpiecesof confusion, developing around one premise that the castaway crewshould immediately set up a camp. Where, how, or with what nonexistentequipment, Breadon did not venture to say.     You see what I mean? demanded Sparks disgustedly.  <doc-sep>Only a miracle, Greg knew, could save them now. An impulse spun hishead, he looked at Crystal Andrews. There was no fear in her eyes. Justa hotness and an inexplicable anger. Beside her was the other girl, themaid, 'Tina; she was frankly afraid. Her teeth were clenched in hernether lip, and her eyes were wide and anxious, but she did not cry out.     Only a miracle could save them now. But Breadon's hands performedthat miracle; his quick, nerveless, trained hands. A stud here ...a lever there ... a swift wrenching toss of the shoulders. His facetwisted back over his shoulder, and his straining lips pulled tautand bloodless away from his teeth. Hold tight, folks! We're going tobounce—     Then they struck!     But they struck glancingly, as Breadon had hoped, and planned for,and gambled on. They struck and bounced. The frail craft shiveredand groaned in metal agony, jarred across harsh soil, bounced again,settled, nosed over and rocked to a standstill. Somewhere forwardsomething snapped with a shrill, high      ping!     of stress; somewhere aftwas the metallic flap-clanging of broken gear trailing behind them. Butthey were safe.     Breath, held so long that he could not remember its inhalation, escapedGreg's lungs in a long sigh. Nice work, Mr. Breadon! he cried. Oh,nice work!     But surprisingly, savagely, Breadon turned on him.     It would have been      better     work, Malcolm, if you'd kept your damnedhands off the controls! Now see what you've done? Smashed up our skiff!Our only—     He didn't do it! piped the shrill voice of Tommy O'Doul. You done ityourself, Mr. Breadon. Your sleeve. It caught the switch.     Quiet! Breadon, cheeks flushed, reached out smartly, stilledthe youngster's defense with a swift, ungentle slap. And you,Malcolm—after this, do as you're told, and don't try to assumeresponsibilities too great for you. All right, everybody. Let's get outand see how bad the damage is.     Instinctively Greg had surged a half step forward as Breadon silencedthe cabin boy. Now old habit and common-sense halted him. He'soverwrought, he reasoned. We're all excited and on edge. We've been toBedlam. Our nerves are shot. In a little while we'll all be back tonormal.     He said quietly, Very well, Mr. Breadon. And he climbed from thebroken skiff.  <doc-sep>Gregory Malcolm climbed down the Jacob's-ladder and strode brisklythrough the labyrinthine corridors that were the entrails of thespace yacht      Carefree     . He paused once to peer through a      perilens     set into the ship's port plates. It was a weird sight that met hisgaze. Not space, ebony-black and bejewelled with a myriad flamingsplotches of color; not the old, familiar constellations treadingtheir ever-lasting, inexorable paths about the perimeter of Sol'stiny universe, but a shimmering webwork of light, so tortured-violetthat the eyes ached to look upon it. This was the mad typhoon ofspace-atmospherics through which the      Carefree     was now being twisted,topsy-turvy, toward a nameless goal.     He moved on, approaching at last the quartzite-paned observationrotunda which was the dining dome of the ship.     His footsteps slowed as he composed himself to face those within. Ashe hesitated in the dimly-lighted passage, a trick of lights on glassmirrored to him the room beyond. He could see the others while theywere as yet unaware of his presence. Their voices reached him clearly.     J. Foster Andrews, his employer and the employer of the ten thousandor more men and women who worked for Galactic Metals Corporation,dominated the head of the table. He was a plump, impatient littleNapoleon. Opposite him, calm, graceful, serene, tastefully garbed andelaborately coiffured even here in deep space, three weeks from thenearest beauty shop, sat his wife, Enid.     On Andrews' right sat his sister, Maud. Not young, features plain as amud fence, but charming despite her age and homeliness simply becauseof her eyes; puckish, shrewdly intelligent eyes, constantly aglint withsuppressed humor at—guessed Greg—the amusing foibles and frailties ofthose about her.     She gave her breakfast the enthusiastic attention of one too old andshapeless to be concerned with such folderol as calories and dietetics,pausing only from time to time to share smidgeons of food with awatery-eyed scrap of white, curly fluff beside her chair. Her petpoodle, whom she called by the opprobrious title of Cuddles.     On J. Foster's left sat his daughter, Crystal. She it was who causedGregory Malcolm's staid, respectable heart to give a little lurch ashe glimpsed her reflected vision—all gold and crimson and cream—inthe glistening walls. If Crystal was her name, so, too, was crystal herloveliness.     But—Greg shook his head—but she was not for him. She was alreadypledged to the young man seated beside her. Ralph Breadon. He turnedto murmur something to her as Greg watched; Greg saw and admired anddisliked his rangy height, his sturdy, well-knit strength, the richbrownness of his skin, his hair, his eyes.     The sound of his own name startled Greg.     Malcolm! called the man at the head of the table. Malcolm! Now wherein blazes is he, anyhow? he demanded of no one in particular, everyonein general. He spooned a dab of liquid gold from a Limoges preservejar, tongued it suspiciously, frowned. Bitter! he complained.     It's the very      best     Martian honey, said his wife.     Drylands clover, added Crystal.     It's still bitter, said J. Foster petulantly.     His sister sniffed. Nonsense! It's delightful.     I say it's bitter, repeated Andrews sulkily. And lifted his voiceagain.       Malcolm!     Where      are     you?     You called me, sir? said Malcolm, moving into the room. He noddedpolitely to the others. Good morning, Mrs. Andrews ... MissAndrews ... Mr. Breadon....     Oh, sit down! snapped J. Foster. Sit down here and stop bobbing yourhead like a teetotum! Had your breakfast? The honey's no good; it'sbitter. He glared at his sister challengingly. Where have you been,anyway? What kind of secretary are you? Have you been up to the radioturret? How's the market today? Is Galactic up or down?     Malcolm said, I don't know, sir.     Fine! Fine! Andrews rattled on automatically before the wordsregistered. Then he started, his face turning red. Eh? What's that?Don't know! What do you mean, you don't know? I pay you to—     There's no transmission, sir, said Greg quietly.     No trans—nonsense! Of course there's transmission! I put a millioncredits into this ship. Finest space-yacht ever built. Latest equipmentthroughout. Sparks is drunk, that's what you mean! Well, you hop rightup there and—  <doc-sep>Maud Andrews put down her fork with a clatter. Oh, for goodness sakes,Jonathan, shut up and give the boy time to explain! He's standingthere with his mouth gaping like a rain-spout, trying to get a word inedgewise! What's the trouble, Gregory? She turned to Greg, as JonathanFoster Andrews wheezed into startled silence.       That?          She glanced at the quartzite dome, beyond which the veil of iridescencewove and cross-wove and shimmered like a pallid aurora.     Greg nodded. Yes, Miss Andrews.     Enid Andrews spoke languidly from the other end of the table.     But what is it, Gregory? A local phenomenon?     You might call it that, said Greg, selecting his words cautiously.It's an ionized field into which we've blasted. It—it—shouldn't staywith us long. But while it persists, our radio will be blanketed out.     Breadon's chestnut head came up suddenly, sharply.     Ionization! That means atmosphere!     Greg said, Yes.     And an atmosphere means a body in space somewhere near— Breadonstopped, bit his lip before the appeal in Malcolm's eyes, tried to passit off easily. Oh, well—a change of scenery, what?     But the moment of alarm in his voice had not passed unnoticed. CrystalAndrews spoke for all of them, her voice preternaturally quiet.     You're hiding something, Malcolm. What is it? Is there—danger?     But Greg didn't have to answer that question. From the doorway a harsh,defiantly strident voice answered for him. The voice of Bert Andrews,Crystal's older brother.     Danger? You're damn right there's danger! What's the matter withyou folks—are you all deaf, dumb and blind? We've been caught in aspace-vortex for hours. Now we're in the H-layer of a planet we can'teven see—and in fifteen minutes or fifteen seconds we may all besmashed as flat as pancakes!     The proclamation brought them out of their chairs. Greg's heart sank;his vain plea, Mr. Andrews— was lost in the medley of Crystal'ssudden gasp, Enid Andrews' short, choking scream, J. Foster's bellowingroar at his only son.     Bert—you're drunk!     Bert weaved precariously from the doorway, laughed in his father's face.     Sure I'm drunk! Why not? If you're smart you'll get drunk, too. Thewhole damn lot of you! He flicked a derisive hand toward Greg. Youtoo, Boy Scout! What were you trying to do—hide the bad news fromthem? Well, it's no use. Everybody might as well know the worst. We'regone gooses ... geeses ... aw, what the hell! Dead ducks! He fellinto a chair, sprawled there laughing mirthlessly with fear riding thetoo-high notes of his laughter.     J. Foster turned to his secretary slowly. His ire had faded; there wasonly deep concern in his voice.     Is he telling the truth, Malcolm?     Greg said soberly, Partly, sir. He's overstating the danger—butthere is danger. We are caught in a space-vortex, and as Mr.Breadon realized, the presence of these ionics means we're in theHeaviside-layer of some heavenly body. But we may not crack up.     Maud Andrews glanced at him shrewdly.     Is there anything we can do?     Not a thing. The officers on the bridge are doing everything possible.     In that case, said the older woman, we might as well finish ourbreakfast. Here, Cuddles! Come to momsy! She sat down again. Greglooked at her admiringly. Ralph Breadon stroked his brown jaw. He said,The life-skiffs?     A last resort, said Greg. Sparks promised he'd let me know if itwere necessary. We'll hope it's not—     But it was a vain hope, vainly spoken in the last, vain moment. Foreven as he phrased the hopeful words, came the sound of swift, racingfootsteps up the corridor. Into the dining dome burst Hannigan, eyeshot with excitement. And his cry dispelled Greg's final hopes forsafety.     Everybody—the Number Four life-skiff—      quick     ! We've been caught in agrav-drag and we're going to crash!      II     Those next hectic moments were never afterward very clear in GregMalcolm's memory. He had a confused recollection of hearing Sparks'warning punctuated by a loud, shrill scream which he vaguely identifiedas emanating from Mrs. Andrews' throat ... he was conscious of feeling,suddenly, beneath his feet the sickening, quickening lurch of a shipout of control, gripped by gravitational forces beyond its power toallay ... he recalled his own voice dinning in his ears as, incredibly,with Sparks, he took command of the hasty flight from the dining domedown the corridor to the aft ramp, up the ramp, across girdered beamsin the super-structure to the small, independently motored rocket-skiffcradled there.     He was aware, too, of strangely disconnected incidents happening aroundhim, he being a part of them but seeming to be only a disinterestedspectator to their strangeness. Of his forcing Maud Andrews towardthe door of the dome ... of her pushing back against him with all theweight of her body ... of her irate voice, Cuddles! I forgot him!Then the shrill excited yapping of the poodle cradled against her asthey charged on down the corridor.     J. Foster waddling beside him, tugging at his arm, panting, Theofficers? and his own unfelt assurance. They can take care ofthemselves. It's a general 'bandon ship. Enid Andrews stumbling overthe hem of a filmy peignoir ... himself bending to lift her boldly andbodily, sweating palms feeling the warm animal heat of her excitedbody hot beneath them ... Crystal Andrews stopping suddenly, crying,'Tina! ... and Hannigan's reply, Your maid? I woke her. She's in thelife-skiff. Bert Andrews stopping suddenly, being sick in the middleof the corridor, his drunkenness losing itself in the thick, surenausea of the ever-increasing unsteadiness beneath their feet.     Then the life-skiff, the clang of metal as Hannigan slammed theport behind the last of them, the fumbling for a lock-stud, thequick, grateful pant of the miniature hypos, and a weird feeling ofweightlessness, rushingness, hurtlingness as his eardrums throbbed andhis mouth tasted brassy and bloody with the fierce velocity of theirescape.     Sense and meaning returned only when all this ended. As one waking froma nightmare dream, Greg Malcolm returned to a world he could recognize.A tiny world, encased within the walls of a forty-foot life-skiff. Aworld peopled too scantily. Andrews, his wife and sister, his son anddaughter; 'Tina Laney, the maid; Breadon, Hannigan, young Tommy O'Doul,the cabin-boy (though where he had come from, or when, Greg did notknow). And himself. In a life-skiff. In space.     Somewhere in space. He looked through the      perilens     . What he saw thenhe might better never have seen. For that shimmering pink-ochre veilhad wisped away, now, and in the clean, cold, bitter-clear light of adistant sun he watched the death-dive of the yacht      Carefree     .     Like a vast silver top, spinning heedlessly, wildly, it streaked towarda mottled gray and green, brown and dun, hard and crushing-brutalterrain below. Still at its helm stood someone, for even in that lastdreadful moment burst from its nose-jets a ruddy mushroom of flame thattried to, but could not, brake the dizzy fall.     For an instant Greg's eyes, stingingly blinded and wet, thought theyglimpsed a wee black mote dancing from the bowels of the      Carefree     ; amote that might be another skiff like their own. But he could not besure, and then the      Carefree     was accelerating with such violence andspeed that the eye could see it only as a flaming silver lance againstthe ugly earth-carcase beneath, and then it struck and a carmine bud offlame burst and flowered for an instant, and that was all....     And Greg Malcolm turned from the      perilens     , shaken.     Hannigan said, It's over? and Greg nodded.     Hannigan said, The other skiffs? Did they break free, or were theycaught?     I don't know. I couldn't see for sure.     You must have seen. Are we the only ones?     I couldn't see for sure. Maybe. Maybe not.     Then a body scrambled forward, pressing through the tightness of otherhuddled bodies, and there was a hand upon his elbow. I'll take overnow, Malcolm.  <doc-sep>He rubbed his chin critically. It      seemed     all right. A dreamy sunset,an enchanted moon, flowers, scent.     They were all purely speculative of course. He had no idea how a rosereally smelled—or looked for that matter. Not to mention a moon. Butthen, neither did the widow. He'd have to be confident, assertive.      Insist     on it. I tell you, my dear, this is a genuine realisticromantic moon. Now, does it do anything to your pulse? Do you feel icyfingers marching up and down your spine?     His own spine didn't seem to be affected. But then he hadn't read thatbook on ancient mores and courtship customs.     How really odd the ancients were. Seduction seemed to be an incrediblylong and drawn-out process, accompanied by a considerable amountof falsification. Communication seemed virtually impossible. Nomeant any number of things, depending on the tone of voice and thecircumstances. It could mean yes, it could mean ask me again later onthis evening.     He went up the stairs to the bedroom closet and tried the rain-maker,thinking roguishly:      Thou shalt not inundate.     The risks he was taking!A shower fell gently on the garden and a male chorus began to chant      Singing in the Rain     . Undiminished, the yellow moon and the red suncontinued to be brilliant, although the sun occasionally arced over anddemolished several of the neon roses.     The last wheel in the bedroom closet was a rather elegant steeringwheel from an old 1995 Studebaker. This was on the bootleg pipe; hegingerly turned it.     Far below in the cellar there was a rumble and then the soft whistle ofwinds came to him.     He went downstairs to watch out the living room window. This wasimportant; the window had a really fixed attitude about air currents.The neon roses bent and tinkled against each other as the wind rose andthe moon shook a trifle as it whispered      Cuddle Up a Little Closer     .     He watched with folded arms, considering how he would start.      My dearMrs. Deshazaway.     Too formal. They'd be looking out at the romanticgarden; time to be a bit forward.      My very dear Mrs. Deshazaway.     No.Contrived. How about a simple,      Dear Mrs. Deshazaway     . That might beit.      I was wondering, seeing as how it's so late, if you wouldn'trather stay over instead of going home....       Preoccupied, he hadn't noticed the winds building up, didn't hear theshaking and rattling of the pipes. There were attic pipes connectedto wall pipes and wall pipes connected to cellar pipes, and they madeone gigantic skeleton that began to rattle its bones and dance ashigh-pressure air from the dome blower rushed in, slowly opening theStudebaker valve wider and wider....     The neon roses thrashed about, extinguishing each other. The red sunshot off a mass of sparks and then quickly sank out of sight. The moonfell on the garden and rolled ponderously along, crooning      When theBlue of the Night Meets the Gold of the Day     .     The shaking house finally woke him up. He scrambled upstairs to theStudebaker wheel and shut it off.     At the window again, he sighed. Repairs were in order. And it wasn'tthe first time the winds got out of line.     Why didn't she marry him and save all this bother? He shut it all downand went out the front door, wondering about the rhyme of the months,about stately August and eccentric February and romantic April. April.Its days were thirty and it followed September.      And all the rest havethirty-one.     What a strange people, the ancients!     He still didn't see the orange car parked down the street.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the connection between Malcolm and Breadon in Wanderers of the Wolf Moon?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How are the Andrews family and their employees connected in Wanderers of the Wolf Moon? [SEP] <s>  Wanderers of the Wolf Moon     By NELSON S. BOND     They were marooned on Titan, their ship wrecked,     the radio smashed. Yet they had to exist, had     to build a new life on a hostile world. And the     man who assumed command was Gregory Malcolm, the     bespectacled secretary—whose only adventures     had come through the pages of a book.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Spring 1944.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Sparks snapped off the switches and followed him to the door of theradio turret. Sparks was a stunted, usually-grinning, little redheadnamed Hannigan. But he wasn't grinning now. He laid an anxious hand onGreg's arm. If I was you, he said, if I was you, Malcolm, I don'tthink I'd say nothing to the boss about this. Not just yet, anyhow.     Greg said, Why not?     Sparks spluttered and fussed and made heavy weather of answering.     Well, for one thing, it ain't important. It would only worry him. Andthen there's the womenfolks, they scare easy. Which of course theyain't no cause to. Atmospherics don't mean nothing. I've rode outworse storms than this—plenty of times. And in worse crates than the      Carefree     .     Greg studied him carefully from behind trim plasta-rimmed spectacles.He drew a deep breath. He said levelly, So it's      that     bad, eh,Sparks?     What bad? I just told you—     I know. Sparks, I'm not a professional spaceman. But I've studiedastrogation as few Earthlubbers have. It's been my hobby for years. AndI think I know what we're up against.     We hit a warp-eddy last night. We've been trapped in a vortex formore than eight hours. Lord only knows how many hundreds of thousandsof miles we've been borne off our course. And now we've blasted into asuper-ionized belt of atmospherics. Your radio signals are blanketed.You can't get signals in or out. We're a deaf-mute speck of metal beingwhirled headlong through space. Isn't that it?     I don't know what— began Sparks hotly. Then he stopped, studied hiscompanion thoughtfully, nodded. O.Q., he confessed, that's it. Butwe ain't licked yet. We got three good men on the bridge. Townsend ...Graves ... Langhorn. They'll pull out of this if anybody can. And theyain't no sense in scaring the Old Man and his family.     I won't tell them, said Greg. I won't tell them unless I have to.But between you and me, what are the odds against us, Sparks?     The radioman shrugged.     Who knows? Vortices are unpredictable. Maybe the damn thing will tossus out on the very spot it picked us up. Maybe it will give us the oldchuckeroo a million miles the other side of Pluto. Maybe it will crackus up on an asteroid or satellite. No way of telling till it happens.     And the controls?     As useless, said Sparks, as a cow in a cyclone.     So?     We sit tight, said Sparks succinctly, and hope.     Malcolm nodded quietly. He took off his spectacles, breathed on them,wiped them, replaced them. He was tall and fair; in his neat, crisplypressed business suit he appeared even slimmer than he was. But therewas no nervousness in his movements. He moved measuredly. Well, hesaid, that appears to be that. I'm going up to the dining dome.     Sparks stared at him querulously.     You're a queer duck, Malcolm. I don't think you've got a nerve in yourbody.     Nerves are a luxury I can't afford, replied Greg. If anythinghappens—and if there's time to do so—let me know. He paused at thedoor. Good luck, he said.     Clear ether! said Sparks mechanically. He stared after the other manwonderingly for a long moment, then went back to his control banks,shaking his head and muttering.  <doc-sep>Maud Andrews put down her fork with a clatter. Oh, for goodness sakes,Jonathan, shut up and give the boy time to explain! He's standingthere with his mouth gaping like a rain-spout, trying to get a word inedgewise! What's the trouble, Gregory? She turned to Greg, as JonathanFoster Andrews wheezed into startled silence.       That?          She glanced at the quartzite dome, beyond which the veil of iridescencewove and cross-wove and shimmered like a pallid aurora.     Greg nodded. Yes, Miss Andrews.     Enid Andrews spoke languidly from the other end of the table.     But what is it, Gregory? A local phenomenon?     You might call it that, said Greg, selecting his words cautiously.It's an ionized field into which we've blasted. It—it—shouldn't staywith us long. But while it persists, our radio will be blanketed out.     Breadon's chestnut head came up suddenly, sharply.     Ionization! That means atmosphere!     Greg said, Yes.     And an atmosphere means a body in space somewhere near— Breadonstopped, bit his lip before the appeal in Malcolm's eyes, tried to passit off easily. Oh, well—a change of scenery, what?     But the moment of alarm in his voice had not passed unnoticed. CrystalAndrews spoke for all of them, her voice preternaturally quiet.     You're hiding something, Malcolm. What is it? Is there—danger?     But Greg didn't have to answer that question. From the doorway a harsh,defiantly strident voice answered for him. The voice of Bert Andrews,Crystal's older brother.     Danger? You're damn right there's danger! What's the matter withyou folks—are you all deaf, dumb and blind? We've been caught in aspace-vortex for hours. Now we're in the H-layer of a planet we can'teven see—and in fifteen minutes or fifteen seconds we may all besmashed as flat as pancakes!     The proclamation brought them out of their chairs. Greg's heart sank;his vain plea, Mr. Andrews— was lost in the medley of Crystal'ssudden gasp, Enid Andrews' short, choking scream, J. Foster's bellowingroar at his only son.     Bert—you're drunk!     Bert weaved precariously from the doorway, laughed in his father's face.     Sure I'm drunk! Why not? If you're smart you'll get drunk, too. Thewhole damn lot of you! He flicked a derisive hand toward Greg. Youtoo, Boy Scout! What were you trying to do—hide the bad news fromthem? Well, it's no use. Everybody might as well know the worst. We'regone gooses ... geeses ... aw, what the hell! Dead ducks! He fellinto a chair, sprawled there laughing mirthlessly with fear riding thetoo-high notes of his laughter.     J. Foster turned to his secretary slowly. His ire had faded; there wasonly deep concern in his voice.     Is he telling the truth, Malcolm?     Greg said soberly, Partly, sir. He's overstating the danger—butthere is danger. We are caught in a space-vortex, and as Mr.Breadon realized, the presence of these ionics means we're in theHeaviside-layer of some heavenly body. But we may not crack up.     Maud Andrews glanced at him shrewdly.     Is there anything we can do?     Not a thing. The officers on the bridge are doing everything possible.     In that case, said the older woman, we might as well finish ourbreakfast. Here, Cuddles! Come to momsy! She sat down again. Greglooked at her admiringly. Ralph Breadon stroked his brown jaw. He said,The life-skiffs?     A last resort, said Greg. Sparks promised he'd let me know if itwere necessary. We'll hope it's not—     But it was a vain hope, vainly spoken in the last, vain moment. Foreven as he phrased the hopeful words, came the sound of swift, racingfootsteps up the corridor. Into the dining dome burst Hannigan, eyeshot with excitement. And his cry dispelled Greg's final hopes forsafety.     Everybody—the Number Four life-skiff—      quick     ! We've been caught in agrav-drag and we're going to crash!      II     Those next hectic moments were never afterward very clear in GregMalcolm's memory. He had a confused recollection of hearing Sparks'warning punctuated by a loud, shrill scream which he vaguely identifiedas emanating from Mrs. Andrews' throat ... he was conscious of feeling,suddenly, beneath his feet the sickening, quickening lurch of a shipout of control, gripped by gravitational forces beyond its power toallay ... he recalled his own voice dinning in his ears as, incredibly,with Sparks, he took command of the hasty flight from the dining domedown the corridor to the aft ramp, up the ramp, across girdered beamsin the super-structure to the small, independently motored rocket-skiffcradled there.     He was aware, too, of strangely disconnected incidents happening aroundhim, he being a part of them but seeming to be only a disinterestedspectator to their strangeness. Of his forcing Maud Andrews towardthe door of the dome ... of her pushing back against him with all theweight of her body ... of her irate voice, Cuddles! I forgot him!Then the shrill excited yapping of the poodle cradled against her asthey charged on down the corridor.     J. Foster waddling beside him, tugging at his arm, panting, Theofficers? and his own unfelt assurance. They can take care ofthemselves. It's a general 'bandon ship. Enid Andrews stumbling overthe hem of a filmy peignoir ... himself bending to lift her boldly andbodily, sweating palms feeling the warm animal heat of her excitedbody hot beneath them ... Crystal Andrews stopping suddenly, crying,'Tina! ... and Hannigan's reply, Your maid? I woke her. She's in thelife-skiff. Bert Andrews stopping suddenly, being sick in the middleof the corridor, his drunkenness losing itself in the thick, surenausea of the ever-increasing unsteadiness beneath their feet.     Then the life-skiff, the clang of metal as Hannigan slammed theport behind the last of them, the fumbling for a lock-stud, thequick, grateful pant of the miniature hypos, and a weird feeling ofweightlessness, rushingness, hurtlingness as his eardrums throbbed andhis mouth tasted brassy and bloody with the fierce velocity of theirescape.     Sense and meaning returned only when all this ended. As one waking froma nightmare dream, Greg Malcolm returned to a world he could recognize.A tiny world, encased within the walls of a forty-foot life-skiff. Aworld peopled too scantily. Andrews, his wife and sister, his son anddaughter; 'Tina Laney, the maid; Breadon, Hannigan, young Tommy O'Doul,the cabin-boy (though where he had come from, or when, Greg did notknow). And himself. In a life-skiff. In space.     Somewhere in space. He looked through the      perilens     . What he saw thenhe might better never have seen. For that shimmering pink-ochre veilhad wisped away, now, and in the clean, cold, bitter-clear light of adistant sun he watched the death-dive of the yacht      Carefree     .     Like a vast silver top, spinning heedlessly, wildly, it streaked towarda mottled gray and green, brown and dun, hard and crushing-brutalterrain below. Still at its helm stood someone, for even in that lastdreadful moment burst from its nose-jets a ruddy mushroom of flame thattried to, but could not, brake the dizzy fall.     For an instant Greg's eyes, stingingly blinded and wet, thought theyglimpsed a wee black mote dancing from the bowels of the      Carefree     ; amote that might be another skiff like their own. But he could not besure, and then the      Carefree     was accelerating with such violence andspeed that the eye could see it only as a flaming silver lance againstthe ugly earth-carcase beneath, and then it struck and a carmine bud offlame burst and flowered for an instant, and that was all....     And Greg Malcolm turned from the      perilens     , shaken.     Hannigan said, It's over? and Greg nodded.     Hannigan said, The other skiffs? Did they break free, or were theycaught?     I don't know. I couldn't see for sure.     You must have seen. Are we the only ones?     I couldn't see for sure. Maybe. Maybe not.     Then a body scrambled forward, pressing through the tightness of otherhuddled bodies, and there was a hand upon his elbow. I'll take overnow, Malcolm.  <doc-sep>He rubbed his chin critically. It      seemed     all right. A dreamy sunset,an enchanted moon, flowers, scent.     They were all purely speculative of course. He had no idea how a rosereally smelled—or looked for that matter. Not to mention a moon. Butthen, neither did the widow. He'd have to be confident, assertive.      Insist     on it. I tell you, my dear, this is a genuine realisticromantic moon. Now, does it do anything to your pulse? Do you feel icyfingers marching up and down your spine?     His own spine didn't seem to be affected. But then he hadn't read thatbook on ancient mores and courtship customs.     How really odd the ancients were. Seduction seemed to be an incrediblylong and drawn-out process, accompanied by a considerable amountof falsification. Communication seemed virtually impossible. Nomeant any number of things, depending on the tone of voice and thecircumstances. It could mean yes, it could mean ask me again later onthis evening.     He went up the stairs to the bedroom closet and tried the rain-maker,thinking roguishly:      Thou shalt not inundate.     The risks he was taking!A shower fell gently on the garden and a male chorus began to chant      Singing in the Rain     . Undiminished, the yellow moon and the red suncontinued to be brilliant, although the sun occasionally arced over anddemolished several of the neon roses.     The last wheel in the bedroom closet was a rather elegant steeringwheel from an old 1995 Studebaker. This was on the bootleg pipe; hegingerly turned it.     Far below in the cellar there was a rumble and then the soft whistle ofwinds came to him.     He went downstairs to watch out the living room window. This wasimportant; the window had a really fixed attitude about air currents.The neon roses bent and tinkled against each other as the wind rose andthe moon shook a trifle as it whispered      Cuddle Up a Little Closer     .     He watched with folded arms, considering how he would start.      My dearMrs. Deshazaway.     Too formal. They'd be looking out at the romanticgarden; time to be a bit forward.      My very dear Mrs. Deshazaway.     No.Contrived. How about a simple,      Dear Mrs. Deshazaway     . That might beit.      I was wondering, seeing as how it's so late, if you wouldn'trather stay over instead of going home....       Preoccupied, he hadn't noticed the winds building up, didn't hear theshaking and rattling of the pipes. There were attic pipes connectedto wall pipes and wall pipes connected to cellar pipes, and they madeone gigantic skeleton that began to rattle its bones and dance ashigh-pressure air from the dome blower rushed in, slowly opening theStudebaker valve wider and wider....     The neon roses thrashed about, extinguishing each other. The red sunshot off a mass of sparks and then quickly sank out of sight. The moonfell on the garden and rolled ponderously along, crooning      When theBlue of the Night Meets the Gold of the Day     .     The shaking house finally woke him up. He scrambled upstairs to theStudebaker wheel and shut it off.     At the window again, he sighed. Repairs were in order. And it wasn'tthe first time the winds got out of line.     Why didn't she marry him and save all this bother? He shut it all downand went out the front door, wondering about the rhyme of the months,about stately August and eccentric February and romantic April. April.Its days were thirty and it followed September.      And all the rest havethirty-one.     What a strange people, the ancients!     He still didn't see the orange car parked down the street.  <doc-sep>II     Si Pond was a great believer in the institution of the spree. Anyexcuse would do. Back when he had finished basic education at the ageof twenty-five and was registered for the labor draft, there hadn'tbeen a chance in a hundred that he'd have the bad luck to have hisname pulled. But when it had been, Si had celebrated.     When he had been informed that his physical and mental qualificationswere such that he was eligible for the most dangerous occupation inthe Ultrawelfare State and had been pressured into taking trainingfor space pilot, he had celebrated once again. Twenty-two others hadtaken the training with him, and only he and Rod Cameroon had passedthe finals. On this occasion, he and Rod had celebrated together. Ithad been quite a party. Two weeks later, Rod had burned on a faultytake-off on what should have been a routine Moon run.     Each time Si returned from one of his own runs, he celebrated. A spree,a bust, a bat, a wing-ding, a night on the town. A commemoration ofdangers met and passed.     Now it was all over. At the age of thirty he was retired. Law preventedhim from ever being called up for contributing to the country's laborneeds again. And he most certainly wasn't going to volunteer.     He had taken his schooling much as had his contemporaries. There wasn'tany particular reason for trying to excell. You didn't want to get thereputation for being a wise guy, or a cloddy either. Just one of thefellas. You could do the same in life whether you really studied ornot. You had your Inalienable Basic stock, didn't you? What else didyou need?     It had come as a surprise when he'd been drafted for the labor force.     In the early days of the Ultrawelfare State, they had made a mistakein adapting to the automation of the second industrial revolution.They had attempted to give everyone work by reducing the number ofworking hours in the day, and the number of working days in the week.It finally became ludicrous when employees of industry were workingbut two days a week, two hours a day. In fact, it got chaotic. Itbecame obvious that it was more practical to have one worker putting inthirty-five hours a week and getting to know his job well, than it wasto have a score of employees, each working a few hours a week and noneof them ever really becoming efficient.     The only fair thing was to let the technologically unemployed remainunemployed, with their Inalienable Basic stock as the equivalent ofunemployment insurance, while the few workers still needed put in areasonable number of hours a day, a reasonable number of weeks a yearand a reasonable number of years in a life time. When new employeeswere needed, a draft lottery was held.     All persons registered in the labor force participated. If youwere drawn, you must need serve. The dissatisfaction those chosenmight feel at their poor luck was offset by the fact that they weregranted additional Variable Basic shares, according to the tasksthey fulfilled. Such shares could be added to their portfolios, thedividends becoming part of their current credit balance, or could besold for a lump sum on the market.     Yes, but now it was all over. He had his own little place, his ownvacuum-tube vehicle and twice the amount of shares of Basic that mostof his fellow citizens could boast. Si Pond had it made. A spree wasobviously called for.     He was going to do this one right. This was the big one. He'daccumulated a lot of dollars these past few months and he intendedto blow them, or at least a sizeable number of them. His credit cardwas burning a hole in his pocket, as the expression went. However, hewasn't going to rush into things. This had to be done correctly.     Too many a spree was played by ear. You started off with a few drinks,fell in with some second rate mopsy and usually wound up in a thirdrate groggery where you spent just as much as though you'd been in theclassiest joint in town. Came morning and you had nothing to show forall the dollars that had been spent but a rum-head.     Thus, Si was vaguely aware, it had always been down through thecenturies since the Phoenecian sailor, back from his year-long trip tothe tin mines of Cornwall, blew his hard earned share of the voyage'sprofits in a matter of days in the wine shops of Tyre. Nobody getsquite so little for his money as that loneliest of all workers, he whomust leave his home for distant lands, returning only periodically andusually with the salary of lengthy, weary periods of time to be spenthurriedly in an attempt to achieve the pleasure and happiness so longdenied him.     Si was going to do it differently this time.     Nothing but the best. Wine, women, song, food, entertainment. Theworks. But nothing but the best.  <doc-sep>Edmund rapped the table to gain the family's attention. I'd say we'vedone everything we can for the moment to find Ivan. We've made athorough local search. A wider one, which we can't conduct personally,is in progress. All helpful agencies have been alerted and descriptionsare being broadcast. I suggest we get on with the business of theevening—which may very well be connected with Ivan's disappearance.     One by one the others nodded and took their places at the round table.Celeste made a great effort to throw off the feeling of unreality thathad engulfed her and focus attention on her microfilms.     I'll take over Ivan's notes, she heard Edmund say. They're mainlyabout the Deep Shaft.     How far have they got with that? Frieda asked idly. Twenty-fivemiles?     Nearer thirty, I believe, Edmund answered, and still going down.     At those last two words they all looked up quickly. Then their eyeswent toward Ivan's briefcase.  <doc-sep>Gregory Malcolm climbed down the Jacob's-ladder and strode brisklythrough the labyrinthine corridors that were the entrails of thespace yacht      Carefree     . He paused once to peer through a      perilens     set into the ship's port plates. It was a weird sight that met hisgaze. Not space, ebony-black and bejewelled with a myriad flamingsplotches of color; not the old, familiar constellations treadingtheir ever-lasting, inexorable paths about the perimeter of Sol'stiny universe, but a shimmering webwork of light, so tortured-violetthat the eyes ached to look upon it. This was the mad typhoon ofspace-atmospherics through which the      Carefree     was now being twisted,topsy-turvy, toward a nameless goal.     He moved on, approaching at last the quartzite-paned observationrotunda which was the dining dome of the ship.     His footsteps slowed as he composed himself to face those within. Ashe hesitated in the dimly-lighted passage, a trick of lights on glassmirrored to him the room beyond. He could see the others while theywere as yet unaware of his presence. Their voices reached him clearly.     J. Foster Andrews, his employer and the employer of the ten thousandor more men and women who worked for Galactic Metals Corporation,dominated the head of the table. He was a plump, impatient littleNapoleon. Opposite him, calm, graceful, serene, tastefully garbed andelaborately coiffured even here in deep space, three weeks from thenearest beauty shop, sat his wife, Enid.     On Andrews' right sat his sister, Maud. Not young, features plain as amud fence, but charming despite her age and homeliness simply becauseof her eyes; puckish, shrewdly intelligent eyes, constantly aglint withsuppressed humor at—guessed Greg—the amusing foibles and frailties ofthose about her.     She gave her breakfast the enthusiastic attention of one too old andshapeless to be concerned with such folderol as calories and dietetics,pausing only from time to time to share smidgeons of food with awatery-eyed scrap of white, curly fluff beside her chair. Her petpoodle, whom she called by the opprobrious title of Cuddles.     On J. Foster's left sat his daughter, Crystal. She it was who causedGregory Malcolm's staid, respectable heart to give a little lurch ashe glimpsed her reflected vision—all gold and crimson and cream—inthe glistening walls. If Crystal was her name, so, too, was crystal herloveliness.     But—Greg shook his head—but she was not for him. She was alreadypledged to the young man seated beside her. Ralph Breadon. He turnedto murmur something to her as Greg watched; Greg saw and admired anddisliked his rangy height, his sturdy, well-knit strength, the richbrownness of his skin, his hair, his eyes.     The sound of his own name startled Greg.     Malcolm! called the man at the head of the table. Malcolm! Now wherein blazes is he, anyhow? he demanded of no one in particular, everyonein general. He spooned a dab of liquid gold from a Limoges preservejar, tongued it suspiciously, frowned. Bitter! he complained.     It's the very      best     Martian honey, said his wife.     Drylands clover, added Crystal.     It's still bitter, said J. Foster petulantly.     His sister sniffed. Nonsense! It's delightful.     I say it's bitter, repeated Andrews sulkily. And lifted his voiceagain.       Malcolm!     Where      are     you?     You called me, sir? said Malcolm, moving into the room. He noddedpolitely to the others. Good morning, Mrs. Andrews ... MissAndrews ... Mr. Breadon....     Oh, sit down! snapped J. Foster. Sit down here and stop bobbing yourhead like a teetotum! Had your breakfast? The honey's no good; it'sbitter. He glared at his sister challengingly. Where have you been,anyway? What kind of secretary are you? Have you been up to the radioturret? How's the market today? Is Galactic up or down?     Malcolm said, I don't know, sir.     Fine! Fine! Andrews rattled on automatically before the wordsregistered. Then he started, his face turning red. Eh? What's that?Don't know! What do you mean, you don't know? I pay you to—     There's no transmission, sir, said Greg quietly.     No trans—nonsense! Of course there's transmission! I put a millioncredits into this ship. Finest space-yacht ever built. Latest equipmentthroughout. Sparks is drunk, that's what you mean! Well, you hop rightup there and—  <doc-sep>   LEX     By W. T. HAGGERT     Illustrated by WOOD     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine August 1959.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Nothing in the world could be happier and       mere serene than a man who loves his work—but       what happens when it loves him back?        Keep your nerve, Peter Manners told himself; it's only a job. But nervehas to rest on a sturdier foundation than cash reserves just above zeroand eviction if he came away from this interview still unemployed.Clay, at the Association of Professional Engineers, who had set up theappointment, hadn't eased Peter's nervousness by admitting, I don'tknow what in hell he's looking for. He's turned down every man we'vesent him.     The interview was at three. Fifteen minutes to go. Coming early wouldbetray overeagerness. Peter stood in front of the Lex Industries plantand studied it to kill time. Plain, featureless concrete walls, notlarge for a manufacturing plant—it took a scant minute to exhaust itssightseeing potential. If he walked around the building, he could, ifhe ambled, come back to the front entrance just before three.     He turned the corner, stopped, frowned, wondering what there was aboutthe building that seemed so puzzling. It could not have been plainer,more ordinary. It was in fact, he only gradually realized, so plain andordinary that it was like no other building he had ever seen.     There had been windows at the front. There were none at the side, andnone at the rear. Then how were the working areas lit? He looked forthe electric service lines and found them at one of the rear corners.They jolted him. The distribution transformers were ten times as largeas they should have been for a plant this size.     Something else was wrong. Peter looked for minutes before he found outwhat it was. Factories usually have large side doorways for employeeschanging shifts. This building had one small office entrance facing thestreet, and the only other door was at the loading bay—big enough tohandle employee traffic, but four feet above the ground. Without anystairs, it could be used only by trucks backing up to it. Maybe theemployees' entrance was on the third side.     It wasn't.  <doc-sep>Looking at the lovely garden landscape around her, Celeste Wolver feltthat in a moment the shrubby hills would begin to roll like waves, thecharmingly aimless paths twist like snakes and sink in the green sea,the sparsely placed skyscrapers dissolve into the misty clouds theypierced.       People must have felt like this     , she thought,      when Aristarches firsthinted and Copernicus told them that the solid Earth under their feetwas falling dizzily through space. Only it's worse for us, because theycouldn't see that anything had changed. We can.       You need something to cling to, she heard Madge say. Dr. Kometevskywas the only person who ever had an inkling that anything like thismight happen. I was never a Kometevskyite before. Hadn't even heard ofthe man.     She said it almost apologetically. In fact, standing there so frank andanxious-eyed, Madge looked anything but a fanatic, which made it muchworse.     Of course, there are several more convincing alternateexplanations.... Theodor began hesitantly, knowing very well thatthere weren't. If Phobos and Deimos had suddenly disintegrated,surely Mars Base would have noticed something. Of course there was theDisordered Space Hypothesis, even if it was little more than the chancephrase of a prominent physicist pounded upon by an eager journalist.And in any case, what sense of security were you left with if youadmitted that moons and planets might explode, or drop through unseenholes in space? So he ended up by taking a different tack: Besides, ifPhobos and Deimos simply shot off somewhere, surely they'd have beenpicked up by now by 'scope or radar.     Two balls of rock just a few miles in diameter? Madge questioned.Aren't they smaller than many of the asteroids? I'm no astronomer, butI think' I'm right.     And of course she was.     She swung the book under her arm. Whew, it's heavy, she observed,adding in slightly scandalized tones, Never been microfilmed. Shesmiled nervously and looked them up and down. Going to a party? sheasked.     Theodor's scarlet cloak and Celeste's green culottes and silver jacketjustified the question, but they shook their heads.     Just the normally flamboyant garb of the family, Celeste said,while Theodor explained, As it happens, we're bound on businessconnected with the disappearance. We Wolvers practically constitutea sub-committee of the Congress for the Discovery of New Purposes.And since a lot of varied material comes to our attention, we'regoing to see if any of it correlates with this bit of astronomicalsleight-of-hand.     Madge nodded. Give you something to do, at any rate. Well, I must beoff. The Buddhist temple has lent us their place for a meeting. Shegave them a woeful grin. See you when the Earth jumps.     Theodor said to Celeste, Come on, dear. We'll be late.     But Celeste didn't want to move too fast. You know, Teddy, she saiduncomfortably, all this reminds me of those old myths where too muchgood fortune is a sure sign of coming disaster. It was just too muchluck, our great-grandparents missing World III and getting the WorldGovernment started a thousand years ahead of schedule. Luck like thatcouldn't last, evidently. Maybe we've gone too fast with a lot ofthings, like space-flight and the Deep Shaft and— she hesitated abit—complex marriages. I'm a woman. I want complete security. Wheream I to find it?     In me, Theodor said promptly.     In you? Celeste questioned, walking slowly. But you're justone-third of my husband. Perhaps I should look for it in Edmund orIvan.     You angry with me about something?     Of course not. But a woman wants her source of security whole. In acrisis like this, it's disturbing to have it divided.     Well, we are a whole and, I believe, indivisible family, Theodortold her warmly. You're not suggesting, are you, that we're going tobe punished for our polygamous sins by a cosmic catastrophe? Fire fromHeaven and all that?     Don't be silly. I just wanted to give you a picture of my feeling.Celeste smiled. I guess none of us realized how much we've come todepend on the idea of unchanging scientific law. Knocks the props fromunder you.     Theodor nodded emphatically. All the more reason to get a line onwhat's happening as quickly as possible. You know, it's fantasticallyfar-fetched, but I think the experience of persons with Extra-SensoryPerception may give us a clue. During the past three or four daysthere's been a remarkable similarity in the dreams of ESPs all over theplanet. I'm going to present the evidence at the meeting.     Celeste looked up at him. So that's why Rosalind's bringing Frieda'sdaughter?     Dotty is your daughter, too, and Rosalind's, Theodor reminded her.     No, just Frieda's, Celeste said bitterly. Of course you may be thefather. One-third of a chance.     Theodor looked at her sharply, but didn't comment. Anyway, Dotty willbe there, he said. Probably asleep by now. All the ESPs have suddenlyseemed to need more sleep.     As they talked, it had been growing darker, though the luminescence ofthe path kept it from being bothersome. And now the cloud rack partedto the east, showing a single red planet low on the horizon.     Did you know, Theodor said suddenly, that in      Gulliver's Travels     Dean Swift predicted that better telescopes would show Mars to have twomoons? He got the sizes and distances and periods damned accurately,too. One of the few really startling coincidences of reality andliterature.     Stop being eerie, Celeste said sharply. But then she went on, Thosenames Phobos and Deimos—they're Greek, aren't they? What do they mean?     Theodor lost a step. Fear and Terror, he said unwillingly. Nowdon't go taking that for an omen. Most of the mythological names ofmajor and minor ancient gods had been taken—the bodies in the SolarSystem are named that way, of course—and these were about all thatwere available.     It was true, but it didn't comfort him much.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How are the Andrews family and their employees connected in Wanderers of the Wolf Moon?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"In what location does the story of Wanderers of the Wolf Moon unfold? [SEP] <s>  Wanderers of the Wolf Moon     By NELSON S. BOND     They were marooned on Titan, their ship wrecked,     the radio smashed. Yet they had to exist, had     to build a new life on a hostile world. And the     man who assumed command was Gregory Malcolm, the     bespectacled secretary—whose only adventures     had come through the pages of a book.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Spring 1944.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Sparks snapped off the switches and followed him to the door of theradio turret. Sparks was a stunted, usually-grinning, little redheadnamed Hannigan. But he wasn't grinning now. He laid an anxious hand onGreg's arm. If I was you, he said, if I was you, Malcolm, I don'tthink I'd say nothing to the boss about this. Not just yet, anyhow.     Greg said, Why not?     Sparks spluttered and fussed and made heavy weather of answering.     Well, for one thing, it ain't important. It would only worry him. Andthen there's the womenfolks, they scare easy. Which of course theyain't no cause to. Atmospherics don't mean nothing. I've rode outworse storms than this—plenty of times. And in worse crates than the      Carefree     .     Greg studied him carefully from behind trim plasta-rimmed spectacles.He drew a deep breath. He said levelly, So it's      that     bad, eh,Sparks?     What bad? I just told you—     I know. Sparks, I'm not a professional spaceman. But I've studiedastrogation as few Earthlubbers have. It's been my hobby for years. AndI think I know what we're up against.     We hit a warp-eddy last night. We've been trapped in a vortex formore than eight hours. Lord only knows how many hundreds of thousandsof miles we've been borne off our course. And now we've blasted into asuper-ionized belt of atmospherics. Your radio signals are blanketed.You can't get signals in or out. We're a deaf-mute speck of metal beingwhirled headlong through space. Isn't that it?     I don't know what— began Sparks hotly. Then he stopped, studied hiscompanion thoughtfully, nodded. O.Q., he confessed, that's it. Butwe ain't licked yet. We got three good men on the bridge. Townsend ...Graves ... Langhorn. They'll pull out of this if anybody can. And theyain't no sense in scaring the Old Man and his family.     I won't tell them, said Greg. I won't tell them unless I have to.But between you and me, what are the odds against us, Sparks?     The radioman shrugged.     Who knows? Vortices are unpredictable. Maybe the damn thing will tossus out on the very spot it picked us up. Maybe it will give us the oldchuckeroo a million miles the other side of Pluto. Maybe it will crackus up on an asteroid or satellite. No way of telling till it happens.     And the controls?     As useless, said Sparks, as a cow in a cyclone.     So?     We sit tight, said Sparks succinctly, and hope.     Malcolm nodded quietly. He took off his spectacles, breathed on them,wiped them, replaced them. He was tall and fair; in his neat, crisplypressed business suit he appeared even slimmer than he was. But therewas no nervousness in his movements. He moved measuredly. Well, hesaid, that appears to be that. I'm going up to the dining dome.     Sparks stared at him querulously.     You're a queer duck, Malcolm. I don't think you've got a nerve in yourbody.     Nerves are a luxury I can't afford, replied Greg. If anythinghappens—and if there's time to do so—let me know. He paused at thedoor. Good luck, he said.     Clear ether! said Sparks mechanically. He stared after the other manwonderingly for a long moment, then went back to his control banks,shaking his head and muttering.  <doc-sep>   IT WAS A DULL, ROUTINE LITTLE     WORLD. IT DIDN'T EVEN HAVE A     CITY. EVERYTHING IT HAD WAS     IN THE GARDEN     BY R. A. LAFFERTY     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, March 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The protozoic recorder chirped like a bird. Not only would there belife traces on that little moon, but it would be a lively place. Sothey skipped several steps in the procedure.     The chordata discerner read      Positive     over most of the surface. Therewas spinal fluid on that orb, rivers of it. So again they omittedseveral tests and went to the cognition scanner. Would it show Thoughton the body?     Naturally they did not get results at once, nor did they expect to; itrequired a fine adjustment. But they were disappointed that they foundnothing for several hours as they hovered high over the rotation. Thenit came—clearly and definitely, but from quite a small location only.     Limited, said Steiner, as though within a pale. As though there werebut one city, if that is its form. Shall we follow the rest of thesurface to find another, or concentrate on this? It'll be twelve hoursbefore it's back in our ken if we let it go now.     Let's lock on this one and finish the scan. Then we can do the rest ofthe world to make sure we've missed nothing, said Stark.     There was one more test to run, one very tricky and difficult ofanalysis, that with the Extraordinary Perception Locator. This wasdesigned simply to locate a source of superior thought. But this mightbe so varied or so unfamiliar that often both the machine and thedesigner of it were puzzled as to how to read the results.     The E. P. Locator had been designed by Glaser. But when the Locatorhad refused to read      Positive     when turned on the inventor himself,bad blood developed between machine and man. Glaser knew that he hadextraordinary perception. He was a much honored man in his field. Hetold the machine so heatedly.     The machine replied, with such warmth that its relays chattered, thatGlaser did      not     have extraordinary perception; he had only ordinaryperception to an extraordinary degree. There is a      difference     , themachine insisted.     It was for this reason that Glaser used that model no more, but builtothers more amenable. And it was for this reason also that the ownersof Little Probe had acquired the original machine so cheaply.     And there was no denying that the Extraordinary Perception Locator (orEppel) was a contrary machine. On Earth it had read      Positive     on anumber of crack-pots, including Waxey Sax, a jazz tootler who could noteven read music. But it had also read      Positive     on ninety per cent ofthe acknowledged superior minds of the Earth. In space it had been asound guide to the unusual intelligences encountered. Yet on Suzuki-Miit had read      Positive     on a two-inch-long worm, only one of them out ofbillions. For the countless identical worms no trace of anything at allwas shown by the test.     So it was with mixed expectations that Steiner locked onto the areaand got a flick. He then narrowed to a smaller area (apparently oneindividual, though this could not be certain) and got very definiteaction. Eppel was busy. The machine had a touch of the ham in it, andassumed an air of importance when it ran these tests.     Finally it signaled the result, the most exasperating result it everproduces: the single orange light. It was the equivalent of the shrugof the shoulders in a man. They called it the You tell      me     light.     So among the intelligences there was at least one that might beextraordinary, though possibly in a crackpot way. It is good to beforewarned.  <doc-sep>When it came over the hastily established camp, the rocket was low,obviously looking for a landing site. It was a military craft, from theoutpost on the near moon, and forward, near the nose, there was theblazoned emblem of the Ninth Fleet. The rocket roared directly overExtrone's tent, turned slowly, spouting fuel expensively, and settledinto the scrub forest, turning the vegetation beneath it sere by itsblasts.     Extrone sat on an upholstered stool before his tent and spatdisgustedly and combed his beard with his blunt fingers.     Shortly, from the direction of the rocket, a group of four high-rankingofficers came out of the forest, heading toward him. They were spruce,the officers, with military discipline holding their waists in andknees almost stiff.     What in hell do you want? Extrone asked.     They stopped a respectful distance away. Sir.... one began.     Haven't I told you gentlemen that rockets frighten the game? Extronedemanded, ominously not raising his voice.     Sir, the lead officer said, it's another alien ship. It was sighteda few hours ago, off this very planet, sir.     Extrone's face looked much too innocent. How did it get there,gentlemen? Why wasn't it destroyed?     We lost it again, sir. Temporarily, sir.     So? Extrone mocked.     We thought you ought to return to a safer planet, sir. Until we couldlocate and destroy it.     Extrone stared at them for a space. Then, indifferently, he turnedaway, in the direction of a resting bearer. You! he said. Hey! Bringme a drink! He faced the officers again. He smiled maliciously. I'mstaying here.     The lead officer licked his firm lower lip. But, sir....     Extrone toyed with his beard. About a year ago, gentlemen, there wasan alien ship around here then, wasn't there? And you destroyed it,didn't you?     Yes, sir. When we located it, sir.     You'll destroy this one, too, Extrone said.     We have a tight patrol, sir. It can't slip through. But it might try along range bombardment, sir.  <doc-sep>I listened to all this in silence. But, I said when she had finished,how did Park manage to have that image created and why did the minelaborers walk out into the Baldric when they contracted the fever?     Grannie Annie frowned. I'm not sure I can answer the first of thosequestions, she replied. You must remember Antlers Park has been onthis moon five years and during that time he must have acquaintedhimself with many of its secrets. Probably he learned long ago justwhat to do to make a cockatoo create a mental image.     As for the men going out into the Baldric, that was more of Park'sdiabolical work. In the walls of the barracks besides those lensbuttons were also miniature electro-hypnotic plates, with the mastercontrolling unit located in that valley. Park knew that when the minerswere in a drugged condition from the effects of the fever they wouldbe susceptible to the machine's lure.... And now, Billy-boy, are youcoming with me?     Coming with you? I repeated. Where?     The old lady lit a cigarette. Pluto maybe, she said. There's a penalcolony there, you know, and that ought to tie in nicely with a newcrime story. I can see it now ... prison break, stolen rocket ship,fugitives lurking in the interplanetary lanes....     Grannie, I laughed. You're incorrigible!   <doc-sep>    A wayfarer's return from a far country to his wife and family may be ashining experience, a kind of second honeymoon. Or it may be so shadowedby Time's relentless tyranny that the changes which have occurred in hisabsence can lead only to tragedy and despair. This rarely discerning, warmlyhuman story by a brilliant newcomer to the science fantasy field is toldwith no pulling of punches, and its adroit unfolding will astound you.         the       hoofer         by ... Walter M. Miller, Jr.         A space rover has no business with a family. But what can a manin the full vigor of youth do—if his heart cries out for a home?    <doc-sep>Mickey Cameron, sitting next to me, dug an elbow into my ribs. I don'tsee 'em, Ben, he whispered. Where do you suppose they are?     I blinked. Who?     My folks.     That was something I didn't have to worry about. My parents had died ina strato-jet crash when I was four, so I hadn't needed many of thoseYou are cordially invited cards. Just one, which I'd sent to CharlieTaggart.     Stardust Charlie, we called him, although I never knew why. He was aveteran of Everson's first trip to the Moon nearly twenty-five yearsago, and he was still at it. He was Chief Jetman now on the      LunarLady     , a commercial ore ship on a shuttle between Luna City and WhiteSands.     I remembered how, as a kid, I'd pestered him in the Long IslandSpaceport, tagging after him like a puppy, and how he'd grown to likeme until he became father, mother, and buddy all in one to me. And Iremembered, too, how his recommendation had finally made me a cadet.     My gaze wandered over the faces, but I couldn't find Charlie's. Itwasn't surprising. The      Lunar Lady     was in White Sands now, butliberties, as Charlie said, were as scarce as water on Mars.       It doesn't matter     , I told myself.     Then Mickey stiffened. I see 'em, Ben! There in the fifth row!     Usually Mickey was the same whether in a furnace-hot engine room or agarden party, smiling, accepting whatever the world offered. But now atenseness and an excitement had gripped even him. I was grateful thathe was beside me; we'd been a good team during those final months atthe Academy and I knew we'd be a good team in space. The Universe wasmighty big, but with two of us to face it together, it would be onlyhalf as big.     And then it seemed that all the proud faces were looking at us as if wewere gods. A shiver went through my body. Though it was daytime, I sawthe stars in my mind's vision, the great shining balls of silver, eachlike a voice crying out and pleading to be explored, to be touched bythe sons of Earth.       They expect a lot from us. They expect us to make a new kind ofcivilization and a better place out of Earth. They expect all this anda hell of a lot more. They think there's nothing we can't do.       I felt very small and very humble. I was scared. Damned scared.  <doc-sep>Verana snapped her fingers. So that's why the aliens read Marie'smind! They wanted to learn our language so they could talk to us!     Kane whirled in a complete circle, glaring at each of the four walls.Where are you?      Who     are you?     I'm located in a part of the ship you can't reach. I'm a machine.     Is anyone else aboard besides ourselves?     No. I control the ship. Although the voice spoke without stiltedphrases, the tone was cold and mechanical.     What are your—your masters going to do with us? Marie askedanxiously.     You won't be harmed. My masters merely wish to question and examineyou. Thousands of years ago, they wondered what your race would be likewhen it developed to the space-flight stage. They left this ship onyour Moon only because they were curious. My masters have no animositytoward your race, only compassion and curiosity.     I remembered the way antigravity rays had shoved Miller from the shipand asked the machine, Why didn't you let our fifth member board theship?     The trip to my makers' planet will take six months. There are food,oxygen and living facilities for four only of your race. I had toprevent the fifth from entering the ship.     Come on, Kane ordered. We'll search this ship room by room and we'llfind some way to make it take us back to Earth.     It's useless, the ship warned us.     For five hours, we minutely examined every room. We had no tools toforce our way through solid metal walls to the engine or control rooms.The only things in the ship that could be lifted and carried about werethe containers of food and alien games. None were sufficiently heavy orhard enough to put even a scratch in the heavy metal.  <doc-sep>Wilkins moved away. Isobar waited until the Patrolman was completelyout of sight. Then swiftly he pulled open the massive gate, slippedthrough, and closed it behind him.     A flood of warmth, exhilarating after the constantly regulatedtemperature of the Dome, descended upon him. Fresh air, thin, butfragrant with the scent of growing things, made his pulses stir withjoyous abandon. He was Outside! He was Outside, in good sunlight, atlast! After six long and dreary months!     Raptly, blissfully, all thought of caution tossed to the gentle breezesthat ruffled his sparse hair, Isobar Jones stepped forward into thelunar valley....     How long he wandered thus, carefree and utterly content, he could notafterward say. It seemed like minutes; it must have been longer. Heonly knew that the grass was green beneath his feet, the trees were alacy network through which warm sunlight filtered benevolently, thechirrupings of small insects and the rustling whisper of the breezesformed a tiny symphony of happiness through which he moved as onecharmed.     It did not occur to him that he had wandered too far from the Dome'sentrance until, strolling through an enchanting flower-decked glade, hewas startled to hear—off to his right—the sharp, explosive bark of aHaemholtz ray pistol.     He whirled, staring about him wildly, and discovered that though hismeandering had kept him near the Dome, he had unconsciously followedits hemispherical perimeter to a point nearly two miles from theGateway. By the placement of ports and windows, Isobar was able tojudge his location perfectly; he was opposite that portion of thestructure which housed Sparks' radio turret.     And the shooting? That could only be—     He did not have to name its reason, even to himself. For at thatmoment, there came racing around the curve of the Dome a pair offigures, Patrolmen clad in fatigue drab. Roberts and Brown. Roberts wasstaggering, one foot dragged awkwardly as he ran; Brown's left arm,bloodstained from shoulder to elbow, hung limply at his side, but inhis good right fist he held a spitting Haemholtz with which he tried tocover his comrade's sluggish retreat.     And behind these two, grim, grey, gaunt figures that moved withastonishing speed despite their massive bulk, came three ... six ... adozen of those lunarites whom all men feared. The Grannies!      III     Simultaneously with his recognition of the pair, Joe Roberts saw him. Agasp of relief escaped the wounded man.     Jones! Thank the Lord! Then you picked up our cry for help? Quick,man—where is it? Theres not a moment to waste!     W-where, faltered Isobar feebly, is      what     ?     The tank, of course! Didn't you hear our telecast? We can't possiblymake it back to the gate without an armored car. My foot's broken,and— Roberts stopped suddenly, an abrupt horror in his eyes. Youdon't have one! You're here      alone     ! Then you didn't pick up our call?But, why—?     Never mind that, snapped Isobar, now! Placid by nature, he couldmove when urgency drove. His quick mind saw the immediateness of theirperil. Unarmed, he could not help the Patrolmen fight a delaying actionagainst their foes, nor could he hasten their retreat. Anyway, weaponswere useless, and time was of the essence. There was but one temporaryway of staving off disaster. Over here ... this tree! Quick! Up yougo! Give him a lift, Brown—There! That's the stuff!     He was the last to scramble up the gnarled bole to a tentative leafysanctuary. He had barely gained the security of the lowermost boughwhen a thundering crash resounded, the sturdy trunk trembled beneathhis clutch. Stony claws gouged yellow parallels in the bark scantinches beneath one kicking foot, then the Granny fell back with a thud.The Graniteback was      not     a climber. It was far too ungainly, much tooweighty for that.     Roberts said weakly, Th-thanks, Jonesy! That was a close call.     That goes for me, too, Jonesy, added Brown from an upper bough.But I'm afraid you just delayed matters. This tree's O.Q. as longas it lasts, but— He stared down upon the gathering knot ofGrannies unhappily—it's not going to last long with that bunch ofsuperdreadnaughts working out on it! Hold tight, fellows! Here theycome!     For the Grannies, who had huddled for a moment as if in telepathicconsultation, now joined forces, turned, and as one body chargedheadlong toward the tree. The unified force of their attack was likethe shattering impact of a battering ram. Bark rasped and grittedbeneath the besieged men's hands, dry leaves and twigs pelted aboutthem in a tiny rain, tormented fibrous sinews groaned as the agedforest monarch shuddered in agony.     Desperately they clung to their perches. Though the great tree bent, itdid not break. But when it stopped trembling, it was canted drunkenlyto one side, and the erstwhile solid earth about its base was brokenand cracked—revealing fleshy tentacles uprooted from ancient moorings!  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] In what location does the story of Wanderers of the Wolf Moon unfold?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in DELAY IN TRANSIT? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>   DELAY IN TRANSIT     By F. L. WALLACE     Illustrated by SIBLEY     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        An unprovoked, meaningless night attack is       terrifying enough on your own home planet, worse       on a world across the Galaxy. But the horror       is the offer of help that cannot be accepted!        Muscles tense, said Dimanche. Neural index 1.76, unusually high.Adrenalin squirting through his system. In effect, he's stalking you.Intent: probably assault with a deadly weapon.     Not interested, said Cassal firmly, his subvocalization inaudibleto anyone but Dimanche. I'm not the victim type. He was standing onthe walkway near the brink of the thoroughfare. I'm going back to thehabitat hotel and sit tight.     First you have to get there, Dimanche pointed out. I mean, is itsafe for a stranger to walk through the city?     Now that you mention it, no, answered Cassal. He looked aroundapprehensively. Where is he?       Behind you. At the moment he's pretending interest in a merchandisedisplay.     A native stamped by, eyes brown and incurious. Apparently he wasaccustomed to the sight of an Earthman standing alone, Adam's applebobbing up and down silently. It was a Godolphian axiom that alltravelers were crazy.     Cassal looked up. Not an air taxi in sight; Godolph shut down at dusk.It would be pure luck if he found a taxi before morning. Of course he      could     walk back to the hotel, but was that such a good idea?     A Godolphian city was peculiar. And, though not intended, it waspeculiarly suited to certain kinds of violence. A human pedestrian wasat a definite disadvantage.     Correction, said Dimanche. Not simple assault. He has murder inmind.     It still doesn't appeal to me, said Cassal. Striving to lookunconcerned, he strolled toward the building side of the walkway andstared into the interior of a small cafe. Warm, bright and dry. Inside,he might find safety for a time.     Damn the man who was following him! It would be easy enough to eludehim in a normal city. On Godolph, nothing was normal. In an hour thestreets would be brightly lighted—for native eyes. A human wouldconsider it dim.     Why did he choose me? asked Cassal plaintively. There must besomething he hopes to gain.     I'm working on it, said Dimanche. But remember, I have limitations.At short distances I can scan nervous systems, collect and interpretphysiological data. I can't read minds. The best I can do is reportwhat a person says or subvocalizes. If you're really interested infinding out why he wants to kill you, I suggest you turn the problemover to the godawful police.     Godolph, not godawful, corrected Cassal absently.     That was advice he couldn't follow, good as it seemed. He could givethe police no evidence save through Dimanche. There were variousreasons, many of them involving the law, for leaving the device calledDimanche out of it. The police would act if they found a body. His own,say, floating face-down on some quiet street. That didn't seem theproper approach, either.     Weapons?     The first thing I searched him for. Nothing very dangerous. A longknife, a hard striking object. Both concealed on his person.     Cassal strangled slightly. Dimanche needed a good stiff course insemantics. A knife was still the most silent of weapons. A man coulddie from it. His hand strayed toward his pocket. He had a measure ofprotection himself.     Report, said Dimanche. Not necessarily final. Based, perhaps, ontenuous evidence.     Let's have it anyway.     His motivation is connected somehow with your being marooned here. Forsome reason you can't get off this planet.     That was startling information, though not strictly true. A thousandstar systems were waiting for him, and a ship to take him to each one.     Of course, the one ship he wanted hadn't come in. Godolph was atransfer point for stars nearer the center of the Galaxy. When hehad left Earth, he had known he would have to wait a few days here.He hadn't expected a delay of nearly three weeks. Still, it wasn'tunusual. Interstellar schedules over great distances were not asreliable as they might be.     Was this man, whoever and whatever he might be, connected withthat delay? According to Dimanche, the man thought he was. He wasself-deluded or did he have access to information that Cassal didn't?  <doc-sep>It was quite a bang, said Retief. But I guess you saw it, too.     No, confound it, Magnan said. When I remonstrated with Hulk, orWhelk—     Whonk.     —the ruffian thrust me into an alley bound in my own cloak. I'll mostcertainly complain to the Minister.     How about the surgical mission?     A most generous offer, said Magnan. Frankly, I was astonished. Ithink perhaps we've judged the Groaci too harshly.     I hear the Ministry of Youth has had a rough morning of it, saidRetief. And a lot of rumors are flying to the effect that Youth Groupsare on the way out.     Magnan cleared his throat, shuffled papers. I—ah—have explained tothe press that last night's—ah—     Fiasco.     —affair was necessary in order to place the culprits in an untenableposition. Of course, as to the destruction of the VIP vessel and thepresumed death of, uh, Slop.     The Fustians understand, said Retief. Whonk wasn't kidding aboutceremonial vengeance.     The Groaci had been guilty of gross misuse of diplomatic privilege,said Magnan. I think that a note—or perhaps an Aide Memoire: lessformal....     The      Moss Rock     was bound for Groaci, said Retief. She was alreadyin her transit orbit when she blew. The major fragments will arrive onschedule in a month or so. It should provide quite a meteorite display.I think that should be all the      aide     the Groaci's      memoires     will needto keep their tentacles off Fust.     But diplomatic usage—     Then, too, the less that's put in writing, the less they can blame youfor, if anything goes wrong.     That's true, said Magnan, lips pursed. Now you're thinkingconstructively, Retief. We may make a diplomat of you yet. He smiledexpansively.     Maybe. But I refuse to let it depress me. Retief stood up. I'mtaking a few weeks off ... if you have no objection, Mr. Ambassador. Mypal Whonk wants to show me an island down south where the fishing isgood.     But there are some extremely important matters coming up, saidMagnan. We're planning to sponsor Senior Citizen Groups—     Count me out. All groups give me an itch.     Why, what an astonishing remark, Retief! After all, we diplomats areourselves a group.     Uh-huh, Retief said.     Magnan sat quietly, mouth open, and watched as Retief stepped into thehall and closed the door gently behind him.   <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>Young Peter Karson put the last black-print down and sighed withsatisfaction. His dream was perfect; the      Citadel     was complete, everyminutest detail provided for—on paper. In two weeks they would belaying the core, and then the metal giant itself would begin to grow,glittering, pulsing with each increment of power, until at last it layfinished, a living thing.     Then there would remain only the task of blasting the great, shiningship out into the carefully-calculated orbit that would be its home.In his mind's eye he could see it, slowly wheeling, like a secondsatellite, about the Earth; endlessly gathering knowledge into itsinsatiable mechanisms. He could see, too, the level on level oflaboratories and storerooms that filled its interlocking segments; themeteor deflectors, the air renewal system, the mighty engines at thestern—all the children of his brain.     Out there, away from the muffling, distorting, damnable blanket ofatmosphere, away from Earth's inexorable gravitational pull, would bea laboratory such as man had never seen. The ship would be filled withthe sounds of busy men and women, wresting secrets from the reluctantether. A new chemistry, a new physics; perhaps even a new biochemistry.     A discordant note suddenly entered his fantasy. He looked up, consciousof the walls of his office again, but could see nothing unusual. Still,that thin, dark whisper of dread was at the back of his mind. Slowly,as if reluctantly compelled, he turned around to face the window at hisback.     There, outside the window, fifty stories up, a face was staringimpassively in at him. That was the first impression he got; just aface, staring. Then he saw, with a queer, icy chill, that the face wasblood-red and subtly inhuman. It tapered off into a formless, shriveledbody.     For a moment or an eternity it hung there, unsupported, the bulgingeyes staring at him. Then it grew misty at the edges. It dissolvedslowly away and was gone.     Lord! he said.     He stared after it, stunned into immobility. Down in the streetsomewhere, a portable video was shrilling a popular song; after amoment he heard the faint swish of a tube car going past. Everythingwas normal. Nothing, on examination, seemed to have changed. But theworld had grown suddenly unreal.     One part of his brain had been shocked into its shell. It was hidingfrom the thing that had hurt it, and it refused to respond. But theother part was going calmly, lucidly on, quite without his volition.It considered the possibility that he had gone temporarily insane, anddecided that this was probable.     Hardly knowing what he did, he found a cigarette and lit it. His handswere shaking. He stared at them dully, and then he reached over to thenewsbox on his desk, and switched it on.     There were flaring red headlines.     Relief washed over him, leaving him breathless. He was horrified,of course, but only abstractedly. For the moment he could only beglad that what he had seen was terrible reality rather than even moreterrible illusion.     INVADERS APPEAR IN BOSTON.     200 DEAD     Then lines of type, and farther down:     50 CHILDREN DISAPPEAR FROM     PARIS MATERNITY CENTER     He pressed the stud. The roll was full of them.     MOON SHIP DESTROYED     IN TRANSIT     NO COMMUNICATION FROM     ANTARCTICA IN 6 HOURS     STRANGE FORCE DEFLECTS     PLANES FROM SAHARA AREA     WORLD POLICE MOBILIZING     The item below the last one said:     Pacifica, June 7—The World Police are mobilizing, for the first timein fifty years. The order was made public early this morning byR. Stein, Secretary of the Council, who said in part:     The reason for this ... order must be apparent to all civilizedpeoples. For the Invaders have spared no part of this planet in theirdepredations: they have laid Hong Kong waste; they have terrorizedLondon; they have destroyed the lives of citizens in every member stateand in every inhabited area. There can be few within reach of printedreports or my words who have not seen the Invaders, or whose friendshave not seen them.     The peoples of the world, then, know what they are, and know thatwe face the most momentous struggle in our history. We face an enemy      superior to ourselves in every way     .     Since the Invaders first appeared in Wood River, Oregon, 24 hoursago, they have not once acknowledged our attempts to communicate, orin any way taken notice of our existence as reasoning beings. Theyhave treated us precisely as we, in less enlightened days, mighthave treated a newly-discovered race of lower animals. They have notattacked our centers of government, nor immobilized our communications,nor laid siege to our defenses. But in instance after instance, theyhave done as they would with us. They have examined us, dissected us,driven us mad, killed us with no discernable provocation; and this ismore intolerable than any normal invasion.     I have no fear that the people of Earth will fail to meet thischallenge, for there is no alternative. Not only our individual livesare threatened, but our existence as a race. We must, and will, destroythe Invaders!     Peter sank back in his chair, the full shock of it striking him for thefirst time.           Will     we? he asked himself softly.  <doc-sep>Kaiser wondered about the abrupt recall. Could the      Soscites II     beexperiencing some difficulty? He shrugged the thought aside. If theywere, they would have told him. The last notes had had more than just asuggestion of urgency—there appeared to be a deliberate concealing ofinformation.     Strangely, the messages indicated need for haste did not prod Kaiser.He knew now that the job could be done, perhaps in a few hours' time.And the      Soscites II     would not complete its orbit of the planet fortwo weeks yet.     Without putting on more than the shirt and trousers he had grown usedto wearing, Kaiser went outside and wandered listlessly about thevicinity of the ship for several hours. When he became hungry, he wentback inside.     Another message came in as he finished eating. This one was from thecaptain himself:     WHY HAVE WE RECEIVED NO VERIFICATION OF LAST INSTRUCTIONS? REPAIRSCOUT IMMEDIATELY AND RETURN WITHOUT FURTHER DELAY. THIS IS AN ORDER!     H. A. HESSE, CAPT.     Kaiser pushed the last of his meal—which he had been eating with hisfingers—into his mouth, crumpled the tape, wiped the grease from hishands with it and dropped it to the floor.     He pondered mildly, as he packed his equipment, why he was disregardingthe captain's message. For some reason, it seemed too trivial forserious consideration. He placated his slightly uneasy conscience onlyto the extent of packing the communicator in with his other equipment.It was a self-contained unit and he'd be able to receive messages fromthe ship on his trip.  <doc-sep>   HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS     By JIM HARMON     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Every lonely man tries to make friends.     Manet just didn't know when to stop!      William Manet was alone.     In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It wouldgive him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlateloneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take himto start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to beginteaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminablelectures to a bored and captive audience of one.     He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whetherit was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and asdirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal andthink more like a god than any man for generations.     But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearingbore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.     Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was alreadytalking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he hadcut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up andwinked at it whenever he passed that way.     Lately she was winking back at him.     Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh fromhis arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.     No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manetcould only be this lonely on Mars.     Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.     All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middleof the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat,flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in theblack sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moonsand one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The wholegimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one wasneeded here—no human being, at least.     The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn'ttake much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefullyspecified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycombMars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.     They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated peoplefor the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going toisolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manetand his fellows.     The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fareto Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuterservice for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodationsfor couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren'tproviding fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits betweenthe various Overseers. They weren't very providential.     But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offeredwonderful opportunities.     It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship makinga tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning asbright as envy.  <doc-sep>Wilkins moved away. Isobar waited until the Patrolman was completelyout of sight. Then swiftly he pulled open the massive gate, slippedthrough, and closed it behind him.     A flood of warmth, exhilarating after the constantly regulatedtemperature of the Dome, descended upon him. Fresh air, thin, butfragrant with the scent of growing things, made his pulses stir withjoyous abandon. He was Outside! He was Outside, in good sunlight, atlast! After six long and dreary months!     Raptly, blissfully, all thought of caution tossed to the gentle breezesthat ruffled his sparse hair, Isobar Jones stepped forward into thelunar valley....     How long he wandered thus, carefree and utterly content, he could notafterward say. It seemed like minutes; it must have been longer. Heonly knew that the grass was green beneath his feet, the trees were alacy network through which warm sunlight filtered benevolently, thechirrupings of small insects and the rustling whisper of the breezesformed a tiny symphony of happiness through which he moved as onecharmed.     It did not occur to him that he had wandered too far from the Dome'sentrance until, strolling through an enchanting flower-decked glade, hewas startled to hear—off to his right—the sharp, explosive bark of aHaemholtz ray pistol.     He whirled, staring about him wildly, and discovered that though hismeandering had kept him near the Dome, he had unconsciously followedits hemispherical perimeter to a point nearly two miles from theGateway. By the placement of ports and windows, Isobar was able tojudge his location perfectly; he was opposite that portion of thestructure which housed Sparks' radio turret.     And the shooting? That could only be—     He did not have to name its reason, even to himself. For at thatmoment, there came racing around the curve of the Dome a pair offigures, Patrolmen clad in fatigue drab. Roberts and Brown. Roberts wasstaggering, one foot dragged awkwardly as he ran; Brown's left arm,bloodstained from shoulder to elbow, hung limply at his side, but inhis good right fist he held a spitting Haemholtz with which he tried tocover his comrade's sluggish retreat.     And behind these two, grim, grey, gaunt figures that moved withastonishing speed despite their massive bulk, came three ... six ... adozen of those lunarites whom all men feared. The Grannies!      III     Simultaneously with his recognition of the pair, Joe Roberts saw him. Agasp of relief escaped the wounded man.     Jones! Thank the Lord! Then you picked up our cry for help? Quick,man—where is it? Theres not a moment to waste!     W-where, faltered Isobar feebly, is      what     ?     The tank, of course! Didn't you hear our telecast? We can't possiblymake it back to the gate without an armored car. My foot's broken,and— Roberts stopped suddenly, an abrupt horror in his eyes. Youdon't have one! You're here      alone     ! Then you didn't pick up our call?But, why—?     Never mind that, snapped Isobar, now! Placid by nature, he couldmove when urgency drove. His quick mind saw the immediateness of theirperil. Unarmed, he could not help the Patrolmen fight a delaying actionagainst their foes, nor could he hasten their retreat. Anyway, weaponswere useless, and time was of the essence. There was but one temporaryway of staving off disaster. Over here ... this tree! Quick! Up yougo! Give him a lift, Brown—There! That's the stuff!     He was the last to scramble up the gnarled bole to a tentative leafysanctuary. He had barely gained the security of the lowermost boughwhen a thundering crash resounded, the sturdy trunk trembled beneathhis clutch. Stony claws gouged yellow parallels in the bark scantinches beneath one kicking foot, then the Granny fell back with a thud.The Graniteback was      not     a climber. It was far too ungainly, much tooweighty for that.     Roberts said weakly, Th-thanks, Jonesy! That was a close call.     That goes for me, too, Jonesy, added Brown from an upper bough.But I'm afraid you just delayed matters. This tree's O.Q. as longas it lasts, but— He stared down upon the gathering knot ofGrannies unhappily—it's not going to last long with that bunch ofsuperdreadnaughts working out on it! Hold tight, fellows! Here theycome!     For the Grannies, who had huddled for a moment as if in telepathicconsultation, now joined forces, turned, and as one body chargedheadlong toward the tree. The unified force of their attack was likethe shattering impact of a battering ram. Bark rasped and grittedbeneath the besieged men's hands, dry leaves and twigs pelted aboutthem in a tiny rain, tormented fibrous sinews groaned as the agedforest monarch shuddered in agony.     Desperately they clung to their perches. Though the great tree bent, itdid not break. But when it stopped trembling, it was canted drunkenlyto one side, and the erstwhile solid earth about its base was brokenand cracked—revealing fleshy tentacles uprooted from ancient moorings!  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in DELAY IN TRANSIT?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What role does Dimanche play in the story DELAY IN TRANSIT? [SEP] <s>   DELAY IN TRANSIT     By F. L. WALLACE     Illustrated by SIBLEY     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        An unprovoked, meaningless night attack is       terrifying enough on your own home planet, worse       on a world across the Galaxy. But the horror       is the offer of help that cannot be accepted!        Muscles tense, said Dimanche. Neural index 1.76, unusually high.Adrenalin squirting through his system. In effect, he's stalking you.Intent: probably assault with a deadly weapon.     Not interested, said Cassal firmly, his subvocalization inaudibleto anyone but Dimanche. I'm not the victim type. He was standing onthe walkway near the brink of the thoroughfare. I'm going back to thehabitat hotel and sit tight.     First you have to get there, Dimanche pointed out. I mean, is itsafe for a stranger to walk through the city?     Now that you mention it, no, answered Cassal. He looked aroundapprehensively. Where is he?       Behind you. At the moment he's pretending interest in a merchandisedisplay.     A native stamped by, eyes brown and incurious. Apparently he wasaccustomed to the sight of an Earthman standing alone, Adam's applebobbing up and down silently. It was a Godolphian axiom that alltravelers were crazy.     Cassal looked up. Not an air taxi in sight; Godolph shut down at dusk.It would be pure luck if he found a taxi before morning. Of course he      could     walk back to the hotel, but was that such a good idea?     A Godolphian city was peculiar. And, though not intended, it waspeculiarly suited to certain kinds of violence. A human pedestrian wasat a definite disadvantage.     Correction, said Dimanche. Not simple assault. He has murder inmind.     It still doesn't appeal to me, said Cassal. Striving to lookunconcerned, he strolled toward the building side of the walkway andstared into the interior of a small cafe. Warm, bright and dry. Inside,he might find safety for a time.     Damn the man who was following him! It would be easy enough to eludehim in a normal city. On Godolph, nothing was normal. In an hour thestreets would be brightly lighted—for native eyes. A human wouldconsider it dim.     Why did he choose me? asked Cassal plaintively. There must besomething he hopes to gain.     I'm working on it, said Dimanche. But remember, I have limitations.At short distances I can scan nervous systems, collect and interpretphysiological data. I can't read minds. The best I can do is reportwhat a person says or subvocalizes. If you're really interested infinding out why he wants to kill you, I suggest you turn the problemover to the godawful police.     Godolph, not godawful, corrected Cassal absently.     That was advice he couldn't follow, good as it seemed. He could givethe police no evidence save through Dimanche. There were variousreasons, many of them involving the law, for leaving the device calledDimanche out of it. The police would act if they found a body. His own,say, floating face-down on some quiet street. That didn't seem theproper approach, either.     Weapons?     The first thing I searched him for. Nothing very dangerous. A longknife, a hard striking object. Both concealed on his person.     Cassal strangled slightly. Dimanche needed a good stiff course insemantics. A knife was still the most silent of weapons. A man coulddie from it. His hand strayed toward his pocket. He had a measure ofprotection himself.     Report, said Dimanche. Not necessarily final. Based, perhaps, ontenuous evidence.     Let's have it anyway.     His motivation is connected somehow with your being marooned here. Forsome reason you can't get off this planet.     That was startling information, though not strictly true. A thousandstar systems were waiting for him, and a ship to take him to each one.     Of course, the one ship he wanted hadn't come in. Godolph was atransfer point for stars nearer the center of the Galaxy. When hehad left Earth, he had known he would have to wait a few days here.He hadn't expected a delay of nearly three weeks. Still, it wasn'tunusual. Interstellar schedules over great distances were not asreliable as they might be.     Was this man, whoever and whatever he might be, connected withthat delay? According to Dimanche, the man thought he was. He wasself-deluded or did he have access to information that Cassal didn't?  <doc-sep>Obediently, Cassal turned and began walking after the girl. Attractivein an anthropomorphic, seal-like way, even from behind. Not gracefulout of her element, though.     The would-be assassin was still looking at merchandise as Cassalretraced his steps. A man, or at least man type. A big fellow,physically quite capable of violence, if size had anything to do withit. The face, though, was out of character. Mild, almost meek. Ascientist or scholar. It didn't fit with murder.     Nothing, said Dimanche disgustedly. His mind froze when we gotclose. I could feel his shoulderblades twitching as we passed.Anticipated guilt, of course. Projecting to you the action he plans.That makes the knife definite.     Well beyond the window at which the thug watched and waited, Cassalstopped. Shakily he produced a cigarette and fumbled for a lighter.     Excellent thinking, commended Dimanche. He won't attempt anythingon this street. Too dangerous. Turn aside at the next desertedintersection and let him follow the glow of your cigarette.     The lighter flared in his hand. That's one way of finding out, saidCassal. But wouldn't I be a lot safer if I just concentrated ongetting back to the hotel?     I'm curious. Turn here.     Go to hell, said Cassal nervously. Nevertheless, when he came to thatintersection, he turned there.     It was a Godolphian equivalent of an alley, narrow and dark, oilyslow-moving water gurgling at one side, high cavernous walls looming onthe other.     He would have to adjust the curiosity factor of Dimanche. It was allvery well to be interested in the man who trailed him, but there wasalso the problem of coming out of this adventure alive. Dimanche, anelectronic instrument, naturally wouldn't consider that.     Easy, warned Dimanche. He's at the entrance to the alley, walkingfast. He's surprised and pleased that you took this route.     I'm surprised, too, remarked Cassal. But I wouldn't say I'm pleased.Not just now.     Careful. Even subvocalized conversation is distracting. The mechanismconcealed within his body was silent for an instant and then continued:His blood pressure is rising, breathing is faster. At a time likethis, he may be ready to verbalize why he wants to murder you. This iscritical.     That's no lie, agreed Cassal bitterly. The lighter was in his hand.He clutched it grimly. It was difficult not to look back. The darknessassumed an even more sinister quality.     Quiet, said Dimanche. He's verbalizing about you.     He's decided I'm a nice fellow after all. He's going to stop and askme for a light.     I don't think so, answered Dimanche. He's whispering: 'Poor devil. Ihate to do it. But it's really his life or mine'.     He's more right than he knows. Why all this violence, though? Isn'tthere any clue?     None at all, admitted Dimanche. He's very close. You'd better turnaround.  <doc-sep>Cassal turned, pressed the stud on the lighter. It should have made himfeel more secure, but it didn't. He could see very little.     A dim shadow rushed at him. He jumped away from the water side of thealley, barely in time. He could feel the rush of air as the assailantshot by.     Hey! shouted Cassal.     Echoes answered; nothing else did. He had the uncomfortable feelingthat no one was going to come to his assistance.     He wasn't expecting that reaction, explained Dimanche. That's why hemissed. He's turned around and is coming back.     I'm armed! shouted Cassal.     That won't stop him. He doesn't believe you.     Cassal grasped the lighter. That is, it had been a lighter a fewseconds before. Now a needle-thin blade had snapped out and projectedstiffly. Originally it had been designed as an emergency surgicalinstrument. A little imagination and a few changes had altered itsfunction, converting it into a compact, efficient stiletto.     Twenty feet away, advised Dimanche. He knows you can't see him, buthe can see your silhouette by the light from the main thoroughfare.What he doesn't know is that I can detect every move he makes and keepyou posted below the level of his hearing.     Stay on him, growled Cassal nervously. He flattened himself againstthe wall.     To the right, whispered Dimanche. Lunge forward. About five feet.Low.     Sickly, he did so. He didn't care to consider the possible effects ofa miscalculation. In the darkness, how far was five feet? Fortunately,his estimate was correct. The rapier encountered yielding resistance,the soggy kind: flesh. The tough blade bent, but did not break. Hisopponent gasped and broke away.     Attack! howled Dimanche against the bone behind his ear. You've gothim. He can't imagine how you know where he is in the darkness. He'safraid.     Attack he did, slicing about wildly. Some of the thrusts landed; somedidn't. The percentage was low, the total amount high. His opponentfell to the ground, gasped and was silent.     Cassal fumbled in his pockets and flipped on a light. The man lay nearthe water side of the alley. One leg was crumpled under him. He didn'tmove.     Heartbeat slow, said Dimanche solemnly. Breathing barelyperceptible.     Then he's not dead, said Cassal in relief.     Foam flecked from the still lips and ran down the chin. Blood oozedfrom cuts on the face.     Respiration none, heartbeat absent, stated Dimanche.  <doc-sep>Most of the cousins gasped as the truth began to percolate through.     I knew from the very beginning, Conrad finished, that I didn'thave to do anything at all. I just had to wait and you would destroyyourselves.     I don't understand, Bartholomew protested, searching the faces of thecousins closest to him. What does he mean, we have never existed?We're here, aren't we? What—     Shut up! Raymond snapped. He turned on Martin. You don't seemsurprised.     The old man grinned. I'm not. I figured it all out years ago.     At first, he had wondered what he should do. Would it be better tothrow them into a futile panic by telling them or to do nothing? Hehad decided on the latter; that was the role they had assigned him—towatch and wait and keep out of things—and that was the role he wouldplay.     You knew all the time and you didn't tell us! Raymond spluttered.After we'd been so good to you, making a gentleman out of you insteadof a criminal.... That's right, he snarled, a criminal! An alcoholic,a thief, a derelict! How do you like that?     Sounds like a rich, full life, Martin said wistfully.     What an exciting existence they must have done him out of! But then, hecouldn't help thinking, he—he and Conrad together, of course—had donethem out of      any     kind of existence. It wasn't his responsibility,though; he had done nothing but let matters take whatever course wasdestined for them. If only he could be sure that it was the bettercourse, perhaps he wouldn't feel that nagging sense of guilt insidehim. Strange—where, in his hermetic life, could he possibly havedeveloped such a queer thing as a conscience?     Then we've wasted all this time, Ninian sobbed, all this energy, allthis money, for nothing!     But you were nothing to begin with, Martin told them. And then,after a pause, he added, I only wish I could be sure there had beensome purpose to this.     He didn't know whether it was approaching death that dimmed his sight,or whether the frightened crowd that pressed around him was growingshadowy.     I wish I could feel that some good had been done in letting you bewiped out of existence, he went on voicing his thoughts. But I knowthat the same thing that happened to your worlds and my world willhappen all over again. To other people, in other times, but again. It'sbound to happen. There isn't any hope for humanity.     One man couldn't really change the course of human history, he toldhimself. Two men, that was—one real, one a shadow.     Conrad came close to the old man's bed. He was almost transparent.     No, he said, there is hope. They didn't know the time transmitterworks two ways. I used it for going into the past only once—just thisonce. But I've gone into the future with it many times. And— hepressed Martin's hand—believe me, what I did—what      we     did, you andI—serves a purpose. It will change things for the better. Everythingis going to be all right.  <doc-sep>Horrified, Cassal gazed at the body. Self-defense, of course, butwould the police believe it? Assuming they did, they'd still have toinvestigate. The rapier was an illegal concealed weapon. And they wouldquestion him until they discovered Dimanche. Regrettable, but whatcould he do about it?     Suppose he were detained long enough to miss the ship bound for Tunney21?     Grimly, he laid down the rapier. He might as well get to the bottom ofthis. Why had the man attacked? What did he want?     I don't know, replied Dimanche irritably. I can interpret bodydata—a live body. I can't work on a piece of meat.     Cassal searched the body thoroughly. Miscellaneous personal articlesof no value in identifying the man. A clip with a startling amountof money in it. A small white card with something scribbled on it. Apicture of a woman and a small child posed against a background whichresembled no world Cassal had ever seen. That was all.     Cassal stood up in bewilderment. Dimanche to the contrary, there seemedto be no connection between this dead man and his own problem ofgetting to Tunney 21.     Right now, though, he had to dispose of the body. He glanced toward theboulevard. So far no one had been attracted by the violence.     He bent down to retrieve the lighter-rapier. Dimanche shouted at him.Before he could react, someone landed on him. He fell forward, vainlytrying to grasp the weapon. Strong fingers felt for his throat as hewas forced to the ground.     He threw the attacker off and staggered to his feet. He heard footstepsrushing away. A slight splash followed. Whoever it was, he was escapingby way of water.     Whoever it was. The man he had thought he had slain was no longer insight.     Interpret body data, do you? muttered Cassal. Liveliest dead manI've ever been strangled by.     It's just possible there are some breeds of men who can control thebasic functions of their body, said Dimanche defensively. When Ichecked him, he had no heartbeat.     Remind me not to accept your next evaluation so completely, gruntedCassal. Nevertheless, he was relieved, in a fashion. He hadn't      wanted     to kill the man. And now there was nothing he'd have to explain to thepolice.     He needed the cigarette he stuck between his lips. For the secondtime he attempted to pick up the rapier-lighter. This time he wassuccessful. Smoke swirled into his lungs and quieted his nerves. Hesqueezed the weapon into the shape of a lighter and put it away.     Something, however, was missing—his wallet.     The thug had relieved him of it in the second round of the scuffle.Persistent fellow. Damned persistent.     It really didn't matter. He fingered the clip he had taken from thesupposedly dead body. He had intended to turn it over to the police.Now he might as well keep it to reimburse him for his loss. Itcontained more money than his wallet had.     Except for the identification tab he always carried in his wallet, itwas more than a fair exchange. The identification, a rectangular pieceof plastic, was useful in establishing credit, but with the money henow had, he wouldn't need credit. If he did, he could always send foranother tab.     A white card fluttered from the clip. He caught it as it fell.Curiously he examined it. Blank except for one crudely printed word,STAB. His unknown assailant certainly had tried.  <doc-sep>Denton Cassal, sales engineer, paused for a mental survey of himself.He was a good engineer and, because he was exceptionally well matchedto his instrument, the best salesman that Neuronics, Inc., had. On thebasis of these qualifications, he had been selected to make a longjourney, the first part of which already lay behind him. He had to goto Tunney 21 to see a man. That man wasn't important to anyone save thecompany that employed him, and possibly not even to them.     The thug trailing him wouldn't be interested in Cassal himself, hismission, which was a commercial one, nor the man on Tunney. And moneywasn't the objective, if Dimanche's analysis was right. What      did     thethug want?     Secrets? Cassal had none, except, in a sense, Dimanche. And that wastoo well kept on Earth, where the instrument was invented and made, foranyone this far away to have learned about it.     And yet the thug wanted to kill him. Wanted to? Regarded him as good asdead. It might pay him to investigate the matter further, if it didn'tinvolve too much risk.     Better start moving. That was Dimanche. He's getting suspicious.     Cassal went slowly along the narrow walkway that bordered each side ofthat boulevard, the transport tide. It was raining again. It usuallywas on Godolph, which was a weather-controlled planet where the nativeslike rain.     He adjusted the controls of the weak force field that repelled therain. He widened the angle of the field until water slanted through itunhindered. He narrowed it around him until it approached visibilityand the drops bounced away. He swore at the miserable climate and thenear amphibians who created it.     A few hundred feet away, a Godolphian girl waded out of the transporttide and climbed to the walkway. It was this sort of thing that madelife dangerous for a human—Venice revised, brought up to date in afaster-than-light age.     Water. It was a perfect engineering material. Simple, cheap, infinitelyflexible. With a minimum of mechanism and at break-neck speed, theribbon of the transport tide flowed at different levels throughoutthe city. The Godolphian merely plunged in and was carried swiftlyand noiselessly to his destination. Whereas a human—Cassal shivered.If he were found drowned, it would be considered an accident. Noinvestigation would be made. The thug who was trailing him hadcertainly picked the right place.     The Godolphian girl passed. She wore a sleek brown fur, her own. Cassalwas almost positive she muttered a polite Arf? as she sloshed by.What she meant by that, he didn't know and didn't intend to find out.     Follow her, instructed Dimanche. We've got to investigate our man atcloser range.  <doc-sep>I've got it, said Dimanche as Cassal gloomily counted out the sum thefirst counselor had named.     Got what? asked Cassal. He rolled the currency into a neat bundle,attached his name, and dropped it into the chute.     The woman, Murra Foray, the first counselor. She's a Huntner.     What's a Huntner?     A sub-race of men on the other side of the Galaxy. She was vocalizingabout her home planet when I managed to locate her.     Any other information?     None. Electronic guards were sliding into place as soon as I reachedher. I got out as fast as I could.     I see. The significance of that, if any, escaped him. Nevertheless,it sounded depressing.     What I want to know is, said Dimanche, why such precautions aselectronic guards? What does Travelers Aid have that's so secret?     Cassal grunted and didn't answer. Dimanche could be annoyinglyinquisitive at times.     Cassal had entered one side of a block-square building. He came out onthe other side. The agency was larger than he had thought. The old manwas staring at a door as Cassal came out. He had apparently changedevery sign in the building. His work finished, the technician wasremoving the visual projector from his head as Cassal came up to him.He turned and peered.     You stuck here, too? he asked in the uneven voice of the aged.     Stuck? repeated Cassal. I suppose you can call it that. I'm waitingfor my ship. He frowned. He was the one who wanted to ask questions.Why all the redecoration? I thought Travelers Aid was an old agency.Why did you change so many signs? I could understand it if the agencywere new.     The old man chuckled. Re-organization. The previous first counselorresigned suddenly, in the middle of the night, they say. The new onedidn't like the name of the agency, so she ordered it changed.     She would do just that, thought Cassal. What about this Murra Foray?     The old man winked mysteriously. He opened his mouth and then seemedovercome with senile fright. Hurriedly he shuffled away.     Cassal gazed after him, baffled. The old man was afraid for his job,afraid of the first counselor. Why he should be, Cassal didn't know. Heshrugged and went on. The agency was now in motion in his behalf, buthe didn't intend to depend on that alone.  <doc-sep>The Military Attache pulled at his lower lip. In that case, we can'ttry conclusions with these fellows until we have an indetectible driveof our own. I recommend a crash project. In the meantime—     I'll have my boys start in to crack this thing, the Chief of theConfidential Terrestrial Source Section spoke up. I'll fit out acouple of volunteers with plastic beaks—     No cloak and dagger work, gentlemen! Long range policy will beworked out by Deep-Think teams back at the Department. Our role willbe a holding action. Now I want suggestions for a comprehensive,well rounded and decisive course for meeting this threat. Anyrecommendation?     The Political Officer placed his fingertips together. What about astiff Note demanding an extra week's time?     No! No begging, the Economic Officer objected. I'd say a calm,dignified, aggressive withdrawal—as soon as possible.     We don't want to give them the idea we spook easily, the MilitaryAttache said. Let's delay the withdrawal—say, until tomorrow.     Early tomorrow, Magnan said. Or maybe later today.     Well, I see you're of a mind with me, Nitworth nodded. Our plan ofaction is clear, but it remains to be implemented. We have a populationof over fifteen million individuals to relocate. He eyed thePolitical Officer. I want five proposals for resettlement on my deskby oh-eight-hundred hours tomorrow. Nitworth rapped out instructions.Harried-looking staff members arose and hurried from the room. Magnaneased toward the door.     Where are you going, Magnan? Nitworth snapped.     Since you're so busy, I thought I'd just slip back down to Com Inq. Itwas a most interesting orientation lecture, Mr. Ambassador. Be sure tolet us know how it works out.     Kindly return to your chair, Nitworth said coldly. A number ofchores remain to be assigned. I think you, Magnan, need a little fieldexperience. I want you to get over to Roolit I and take a look at theseQornt personally.     Magnan's mouth opened and closed soundlessly.     Not afraid of a few Qornt, are you, Magnan?     Afraid? Good lord, no, ha ha. It's just that I'm afraid I may lose myhead and do something rash if I go.     Nonsense! A diplomat is immune to heroic impulses. Take Retief along.No dawdling, now! I want you on the way in two hours. Notify thetransport pool at once. Now get going!     Magnan nodded unhappily and went into the hall.     Oh, Retief, Nitworth said. Retief turned.     Try to restrain Mr. Magnan from any impulsive moves—in anydirection.      II     Retief and Magnan topped a ridge and looked down across a slopeof towering tree-shrubs and glossy violet-stemmed palms set amongflamboyant blossoms of yellow and red, reaching down to a strip ofwhite beach with the blue sea beyond.     A delightful vista, Magnan said, mopping at his face. A pity wecouldn't locate the Qornt. We'll go back now and report—     I'm pretty sure the settlement is off to the right, Retief said. Whydon't you head back for the boat, while I ease over and see what I canobserve.     Retief, we're engaged in a serious mission. This is not a time tothink of sightseeing.     I'd like to take a good look at what we're giving away.     See here, Retief! One might almost receive the impression that you'requestioning Corps policy!     One might, at that. The Qornt have made their play, but I think itmight be valuable to take a look at their cards before we fold. If I'mnot back at the boat in an hour, lift without me.     You expect me to make my way back alone?     It's directly down-slope— Retief broke off, listening. Magnanclutched at his arm.     There was a sound of crackling foliage. Twenty feet ahead, a leafybranch swung aside. An eight-foot biped stepped into view, long, thin,green-clad legs with back-bending knees moving in quick, bird-likesteps. A pair of immense black-lensed goggles covered staring eyes setamong bushy green hair above a great bone-white beak. The crest bobbedas the creature cocked its head, listening.     Magnan gulped audibly. The Qornt froze, head tilted, beak aimeddirectly at the spot where the Terrestrials stood in the deep shade ofa giant trunk.     I'll go for help, Magnan squeaked. He whirled and took three leapsinto the brush.     A second great green-clad figure rose up to block his way. He spun,darted to the left. The first Qornt pounced, grappled Magnan to itsnarrow chest. Magnan yelled, threshing and kicking, broke free,turned—and collided with the eight-foot alien, coming in fast from theright. All three went down in a tangle of limbs.     Retief jumped forward, hauled Magnan free, thrust him aside andstopped, right fist cocked. The two Qornt lay groaning feebly.     Nice piece of work, Mr. Magnan, Retief said. You nailed both ofthem.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What role does Dimanche play in the story DELAY IN TRANSIT?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the reason for Cassal's journey to Tunney 21, as mentioned in the story DELAY IN TRANSIT? [SEP] <s>She glanced down at the data. Denton Cassal, native of Earth.Destination, Tunney 21. She looked up at him. Occupation, salesengineer. Isn't that an odd combination? Her smile was quite superior.     Not at all. Scientific training as an engineer. Special knowledge ofcustomer relations.     Special knowledge of a thousand races? How convenient. Her eyebrowsarched.     I think so, he agreed blandly. Anything else you'd like to know?     Sorry. I didn't mean to offend you.     He could believe that or not as he wished. He didn't.     You refused to answer why you were going to Tunney 21. Perhaps I canguess. They're the best scientists in the Galaxy. You wish to studyunder them.     Close—but wrong on two counts. They were good scientists, though notnecessarily the best. For instance, it was doubtful that they couldbuild Dimanche, even if they had ever thought of it, which was evenless likely.     There was, however, one relatively obscure research worker on Tunney 21that Neuronics wanted on their staff. If the fragments of his studiesthat had reached Earth across the vast distance meant anything, hecould help Neuronics perfect instantaneous radio. The company thatcould build a radio to span the reaches of the Galaxy with no time lagcould set its own price, which could be control of all communications,transport, trade—a galactic monopoly. Cassal's share would be a cut ofall that.     His part was simple, on the surface. He was to persuade that researcherto come to Earth,      if he could     . Literally, he had to guess theTunnesian's price before the Tunnesian himself knew it. In addition,the reputation of Tunnesian scientists being exceeded only by theirarrogance, Cassal had to convince him that he wouldn't be workingfor ignorant Earth savages. The existence of such an instrument asDimanche was a key factor.     Her voice broke through his thoughts. Now, then, what's your problem?     I was told on Earth I might have to wait a few days on Godolph. I'vebeen here three weeks. I want information on the ship bound for Tunney21.     Just a moment. She glanced at something below the angle of thescreen. She looked up and her eyes were grave.       Rickrock C     arrivedyesterday. Departed for Tunney early this morning.     Departed? He got up and sat down again, swallowing hard. When willthe next ship arrive?     Do you know how many stars there are in the Galaxy? she asked.     He didn't answer.  <doc-sep>Denton Cassal, sales engineer, paused for a mental survey of himself.He was a good engineer and, because he was exceptionally well matchedto his instrument, the best salesman that Neuronics, Inc., had. On thebasis of these qualifications, he had been selected to make a longjourney, the first part of which already lay behind him. He had to goto Tunney 21 to see a man. That man wasn't important to anyone save thecompany that employed him, and possibly not even to them.     The thug trailing him wouldn't be interested in Cassal himself, hismission, which was a commercial one, nor the man on Tunney. And moneywasn't the objective, if Dimanche's analysis was right. What      did     thethug want?     Secrets? Cassal had none, except, in a sense, Dimanche. And that wastoo well kept on Earth, where the instrument was invented and made, foranyone this far away to have learned about it.     And yet the thug wanted to kill him. Wanted to? Regarded him as good asdead. It might pay him to investigate the matter further, if it didn'tinvolve too much risk.     Better start moving. That was Dimanche. He's getting suspicious.     Cassal went slowly along the narrow walkway that bordered each side ofthat boulevard, the transport tide. It was raining again. It usuallywas on Godolph, which was a weather-controlled planet where the nativeslike rain.     He adjusted the controls of the weak force field that repelled therain. He widened the angle of the field until water slanted through itunhindered. He narrowed it around him until it approached visibilityand the drops bounced away. He swore at the miserable climate and thenear amphibians who created it.     A few hundred feet away, a Godolphian girl waded out of the transporttide and climbed to the walkway. It was this sort of thing that madelife dangerous for a human—Venice revised, brought up to date in afaster-than-light age.     Water. It was a perfect engineering material. Simple, cheap, infinitelyflexible. With a minimum of mechanism and at break-neck speed, theribbon of the transport tide flowed at different levels throughoutthe city. The Godolphian merely plunged in and was carried swiftlyand noiselessly to his destination. Whereas a human—Cassal shivered.If he were found drowned, it would be considered an accident. Noinvestigation would be made. The thug who was trailing him hadcertainly picked the right place.     The Godolphian girl passed. She wore a sleek brown fur, her own. Cassalwas almost positive she muttered a polite Arf? as she sloshed by.What she meant by that, he didn't know and didn't intend to find out.     Follow her, instructed Dimanche. We've got to investigate our man atcloser range.  <doc-sep>   DELAY IN TRANSIT     By F. L. WALLACE     Illustrated by SIBLEY     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        An unprovoked, meaningless night attack is       terrifying enough on your own home planet, worse       on a world across the Galaxy. But the horror       is the offer of help that cannot be accepted!        Muscles tense, said Dimanche. Neural index 1.76, unusually high.Adrenalin squirting through his system. In effect, he's stalking you.Intent: probably assault with a deadly weapon.     Not interested, said Cassal firmly, his subvocalization inaudibleto anyone but Dimanche. I'm not the victim type. He was standing onthe walkway near the brink of the thoroughfare. I'm going back to thehabitat hotel and sit tight.     First you have to get there, Dimanche pointed out. I mean, is itsafe for a stranger to walk through the city?     Now that you mention it, no, answered Cassal. He looked aroundapprehensively. Where is he?       Behind you. At the moment he's pretending interest in a merchandisedisplay.     A native stamped by, eyes brown and incurious. Apparently he wasaccustomed to the sight of an Earthman standing alone, Adam's applebobbing up and down silently. It was a Godolphian axiom that alltravelers were crazy.     Cassal looked up. Not an air taxi in sight; Godolph shut down at dusk.It would be pure luck if he found a taxi before morning. Of course he      could     walk back to the hotel, but was that such a good idea?     A Godolphian city was peculiar. And, though not intended, it waspeculiarly suited to certain kinds of violence. A human pedestrian wasat a definite disadvantage.     Correction, said Dimanche. Not simple assault. He has murder inmind.     It still doesn't appeal to me, said Cassal. Striving to lookunconcerned, he strolled toward the building side of the walkway andstared into the interior of a small cafe. Warm, bright and dry. Inside,he might find safety for a time.     Damn the man who was following him! It would be easy enough to eludehim in a normal city. On Godolph, nothing was normal. In an hour thestreets would be brightly lighted—for native eyes. A human wouldconsider it dim.     Why did he choose me? asked Cassal plaintively. There must besomething he hopes to gain.     I'm working on it, said Dimanche. But remember, I have limitations.At short distances I can scan nervous systems, collect and interpretphysiological data. I can't read minds. The best I can do is reportwhat a person says or subvocalizes. If you're really interested infinding out why he wants to kill you, I suggest you turn the problemover to the godawful police.     Godolph, not godawful, corrected Cassal absently.     That was advice he couldn't follow, good as it seemed. He could givethe police no evidence save through Dimanche. There were variousreasons, many of them involving the law, for leaving the device calledDimanche out of it. The police would act if they found a body. His own,say, floating face-down on some quiet street. That didn't seem theproper approach, either.     Weapons?     The first thing I searched him for. Nothing very dangerous. A longknife, a hard striking object. Both concealed on his person.     Cassal strangled slightly. Dimanche needed a good stiff course insemantics. A knife was still the most silent of weapons. A man coulddie from it. His hand strayed toward his pocket. He had a measure ofprotection himself.     Report, said Dimanche. Not necessarily final. Based, perhaps, ontenuous evidence.     Let's have it anyway.     His motivation is connected somehow with your being marooned here. Forsome reason you can't get off this planet.     That was startling information, though not strictly true. A thousandstar systems were waiting for him, and a ship to take him to each one.     Of course, the one ship he wanted hadn't come in. Godolph was atransfer point for stars nearer the center of the Galaxy. When hehad left Earth, he had known he would have to wait a few days here.He hadn't expected a delay of nearly three weeks. Still, it wasn'tunusual. Interstellar schedules over great distances were not asreliable as they might be.     Was this man, whoever and whatever he might be, connected withthat delay? According to Dimanche, the man thought he was. He wasself-deluded or did he have access to information that Cassal didn't?  <doc-sep>Horrified, Cassal gazed at the body. Self-defense, of course, butwould the police believe it? Assuming they did, they'd still have toinvestigate. The rapier was an illegal concealed weapon. And they wouldquestion him until they discovered Dimanche. Regrettable, but whatcould he do about it?     Suppose he were detained long enough to miss the ship bound for Tunney21?     Grimly, he laid down the rapier. He might as well get to the bottom ofthis. Why had the man attacked? What did he want?     I don't know, replied Dimanche irritably. I can interpret bodydata—a live body. I can't work on a piece of meat.     Cassal searched the body thoroughly. Miscellaneous personal articlesof no value in identifying the man. A clip with a startling amountof money in it. A small white card with something scribbled on it. Apicture of a woman and a small child posed against a background whichresembled no world Cassal had ever seen. That was all.     Cassal stood up in bewilderment. Dimanche to the contrary, there seemedto be no connection between this dead man and his own problem ofgetting to Tunney 21.     Right now, though, he had to dispose of the body. He glanced toward theboulevard. So far no one had been attracted by the violence.     He bent down to retrieve the lighter-rapier. Dimanche shouted at him.Before he could react, someone landed on him. He fell forward, vainlytrying to grasp the weapon. Strong fingers felt for his throat as hewas forced to the ground.     He threw the attacker off and staggered to his feet. He heard footstepsrushing away. A slight splash followed. Whoever it was, he was escapingby way of water.     Whoever it was. The man he had thought he had slain was no longer insight.     Interpret body data, do you? muttered Cassal. Liveliest dead manI've ever been strangled by.     It's just possible there are some breeds of men who can control thebasic functions of their body, said Dimanche defensively. When Ichecked him, he had no heartbeat.     Remind me not to accept your next evaluation so completely, gruntedCassal. Nevertheless, he was relieved, in a fashion. He hadn't      wanted     to kill the man. And now there was nothing he'd have to explain to thepolice.     He needed the cigarette he stuck between his lips. For the secondtime he attempted to pick up the rapier-lighter. This time he wassuccessful. Smoke swirled into his lungs and quieted his nerves. Hesqueezed the weapon into the shape of a lighter and put it away.     Something, however, was missing—his wallet.     The thug had relieved him of it in the second round of the scuffle.Persistent fellow. Damned persistent.     It really didn't matter. He fingered the clip he had taken from thesupposedly dead body. He had intended to turn it over to the police.Now he might as well keep it to reimburse him for his loss. Itcontained more money than his wallet had.     Except for the identification tab he always carried in his wallet, itwas more than a fair exchange. The identification, a rectangular pieceof plastic, was useful in establishing credit, but with the money henow had, he wouldn't need credit. If he did, he could always send foranother tab.     A white card fluttered from the clip. He caught it as it fell.Curiously he examined it. Blank except for one crudely printed word,STAB. His unknown assailant certainly had tried.  <doc-sep>He blanched. How long would it take to get there using localtransportation, star-hopping?     Take my advice: don't try it. Five years, if you're lucky.     I don't need that kind of luck.     I suppose not. She hesitated. You're determined to go on? At theemphatic nod, she sighed. If that's your decision, we'll try to helpyou. To start things moving, we'll need a print of your identificationtab.     There's something funny about her, Dimanche decided. It was the usualspeaking voice of the instrument, no louder than the noise the bloodmade in coursing through arteries and veins. Cassal could hear itplainly, because it was virtually inside his ear.     Cassal ignored his private voice. Identification tab? I don't have itwith me. In fact, I may have lost it.     She smiled in instant disbelief. We're not trying to pry into anypart of your past you may wish concealed. However, it's much easierfor us to help you if you have your identification. Now if you can't      remember     your real name and where you put your identification— Shearose and left the screen. Just a moment.     He glared uneasily at the spot where the first counselor wasn't. His      real     name!     Relax, Dimanche suggested. She didn't mean it as a personal insult.     Presently she returned.     I have news for you, whoever you are.     Cassal, he said firmly. Denton Cassal, sales engineer, Earth. If youdon't believe it, send back to— He stopped. It had taken him fourmonths to get to Godolph, non-stop, plus a six-month wait on Earth fora ship to show up that was bound in the right direction. Over distancessuch as these, it just wasn't practical to send back to Earth foranything.     I see you understand. She glanced at the card in her hand. Thespaceport records indicate that when      Rickrock C     took off thismorning, there was a Denton Cassal on board, bound for Tunney 21.     It wasn't I, he said dazedly. He knew who it was, though. The man whohad tried to kill him last night. The reason for the attack now becameclear. The thug had wanted his identification tab. Worse, he had gottenit.     No doubt it wasn't, she said wearily. Outsiders don't seem tounderstand what galactic travel entails.     Outsiders? Evidently what she called those who lived beyond the secondtransfer ring. Were those who lived at the edge of the Galaxy, beyondthe first ring, called Rimmers? Probably.  <doc-sep>The old man stared at the door, an obsolete visual projector wobblingprecariously on his head. He closed his eyes and the lettering on thedoor disappeared. Cassal was too far away to see what it had been. Thetechnician opened his eyes and concentrated. Slowly a new sign formedon the door.     TRAVELERS AID BUREAU     Murra Foray, First Counselor     It was a drab sign, but, then, it was a dismal, backward planet. Theold technician passed on to the next door and closed his eyes again.     With a sinking feeling, Cassal walked toward the entrance. He neededhelp and he had to find it in this dingy rathole.     Inside, though, it wasn't dingy and it wasn't a rathole. More like amaze, an approved scientific one. Efficient, though not comfortable.Travelers Aid was busier than he thought it would be. Eventually hemanaged to squeeze into one of the many small counseling rooms.     A woman appeared on the screen, crisp and cool. Please answereverything the machine asks. When the tape is complete, I'll beavailable for consultation.     Cassal wasn't sure he was going to like her. Is this necessary? heasked. It's merely a matter of information.     We have certain regulations we abide by. The woman smiled frostily.I can't give you any information until you comply with them.     Sometimes regulations are silly, said Cassal firmly. Let me speak tothe first counselor.     You are speaking to her, she said. Her face disappeared from thescreen.     Cassal sighed. So far he hadn't made a good impression.     Travelers Aid Bureau, in addition to regulations, was abundantlysupplied with official curiosity. When the machine finished with him,Cassal had the feeling he could be recreated from the record it had ofhim. His individuality had been capsuled into a series of questions andanswers. One thing he drew the line at—why he wanted to go to Tunney21 was his own business.     The first counselor reappeared. Age, indeterminate. Not, he supposed,that anyone would be curious about it. Slightly taller than average,rather on the slender side. Face was broad at the brow, narrow at thechin and her eyes were enigmatic. A dangerous woman.  <doc-sep>That's right, she said. Billions. Tunney, according to the notation,is near the center of the Galaxy, inside the third ring. You'vecovered about a third of the distance to it. Local traffic, anythingwithin a thousand light-years, is relatively easy to manage. At longerdistances, you take a chance. You've had yours and missed it. Frankly,Cassal, I don't know when another ship bound for Tunney will show up onor near Godolph. Within the next five years—maybe.  <doc-sep>She was still speaking: Ten years to cross the Galaxy, withoutstopping. At present, no ship is capable of that. Real scheduling isimpossible. Populations shift and have to be supplied. A ship is takenoff a run for repairs and is never put back on. It's more urgentlyneeded elsewhere. The man who depended on it is left waiting; yearspass before he learns it's never coming.     If we had instantaneous radio, that would help. Confusion wouldn'tvanish overnight, but it would diminish. We wouldn't have to dependon ships for all the news. Reservations could be made ahead of time,credit established, lost identification replaced—     I've traveled before, he interrupted stiffly. I've never had anytrouble.     She seemed to be exaggerating the difficulties. True, the center wasmore congested. Taking each star as the starting point for a limitednumber of ships and using statistical probability as a guide—why, noman would arrive at his predetermined destination.     But that wasn't the way it worked. Manifestly, you couldn't comparegalactic transportation to the erratic paths of air molecules in agiant room. Or could you?     For the average man, anyone who didn't have his own inter-stellar ship,was the comparison too apt? It might be.     You've traveled outside, where there are still free planets waiting tobe settled. Where a man is welcome, if he's able to work. She paused.The center is different. Populations are excessive. Inside the thirdring, no man is allowed off a ship without an identification tab. Theydon't encourage immigration.     In effect, that meant no ship bound for the center would take apassenger without identification. No ship owner would run the risk ofhaving a permanent guest on board, someone who couldn't be rid of whenhis money was gone.     Cassal held his head in his hands. Tunney 21 was inside the third ring.     Next time, she said, don't let anyone take your identification.     I won't, he promised grimly.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the reason for Cassal's journey to Tunney 21, as mentioned in the story DELAY IN TRANSIT?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What role does Murra Foray play in the events of DELAY IN TRANSIT? [SEP] <s>I've got it, said Dimanche as Cassal gloomily counted out the sum thefirst counselor had named.     Got what? asked Cassal. He rolled the currency into a neat bundle,attached his name, and dropped it into the chute.     The woman, Murra Foray, the first counselor. She's a Huntner.     What's a Huntner?     A sub-race of men on the other side of the Galaxy. She was vocalizingabout her home planet when I managed to locate her.     Any other information?     None. Electronic guards were sliding into place as soon as I reachedher. I got out as fast as I could.     I see. The significance of that, if any, escaped him. Nevertheless,it sounded depressing.     What I want to know is, said Dimanche, why such precautions aselectronic guards? What does Travelers Aid have that's so secret?     Cassal grunted and didn't answer. Dimanche could be annoyinglyinquisitive at times.     Cassal had entered one side of a block-square building. He came out onthe other side. The agency was larger than he had thought. The old manwas staring at a door as Cassal came out. He had apparently changedevery sign in the building. His work finished, the technician wasremoving the visual projector from his head as Cassal came up to him.He turned and peered.     You stuck here, too? he asked in the uneven voice of the aged.     Stuck? repeated Cassal. I suppose you can call it that. I'm waitingfor my ship. He frowned. He was the one who wanted to ask questions.Why all the redecoration? I thought Travelers Aid was an old agency.Why did you change so many signs? I could understand it if the agencywere new.     The old man chuckled. Re-organization. The previous first counselorresigned suddenly, in the middle of the night, they say. The new onedidn't like the name of the agency, so she ordered it changed.     She would do just that, thought Cassal. What about this Murra Foray?     The old man winked mysteriously. He opened his mouth and then seemedovercome with senile fright. Hurriedly he shuffled away.     Cassal gazed after him, baffled. The old man was afraid for his job,afraid of the first counselor. Why he should be, Cassal didn't know. Heshrugged and went on. The agency was now in motion in his behalf, buthe didn't intend to depend on that alone.  <doc-sep>The woman looked directly at him. Her eyes were bright. He revised hisestimate of her age drastically downward. She couldn't be as old as he.Nothing outward had happened, but she no longer seemed dowdy. Not thathe was interested. Still, it might pay him to be friendly to the firstcounselor.     We're a philanthropic agency, said Murra Foray. Your case isspecial, though—     I understand, he said gruffly. You accept contributions.     She nodded. If the donor is able to give. We don't ask so much thatyou'll have to compromise your standard of living. But she named a sumthat would force him to do just that if getting to Tunney 21 took anyappreciable time.     He stared at her unhappily. I suppose it's worth it. I can alwayswork, if I have to.     As a salesman? she asked. I'm afraid you'll find it difficult to dobusiness with Godolphians.     Irony wasn't called for at a time like this, he thought reproachfully.     Not just another salesman, he answered definitely. I have specialknowledge of customer reactions. I can tell exactly—     He stopped abruptly. Was she baiting him? For what reason? Theinstrument he called Dimanche was not known to the Galaxy at large.From the business angle, it would be poor policy to hand out thatinformation at random. Aside from that, he needed every advantage hecould get. Dimanche was his special advantage.     Anyway, he finished lamely, I'm a first class engineer. I canalways find something in that line.     A scientist, maybe, murmured Murra Foray. But in this part of theMilky Way, an engineer is regarded as merely a technician who hasn'tyet gained practical experience. She shook her head. You'll do betteras a salesman.     He got up, glowering. If that's all—     It is. We'll keep you informed. Drop your contribution in the slotprovided for that purpose as you leave.     A door, which he hadn't noticed in entering the counselling cubicle,swung open. The agency was efficient.     Remember, the counselor called out as he left, identification ishard to work with. Don't accept a crude forgery.     He didn't answer, but it was an idea worth considering. The agency wasalso eminently practical.     The exit path guided him firmly to an inconspicuous and yet inescapablecontribution station. He began to doubt the philanthropic aspect of thebureau.  <doc-sep>The old man stared at the door, an obsolete visual projector wobblingprecariously on his head. He closed his eyes and the lettering on thedoor disappeared. Cassal was too far away to see what it had been. Thetechnician opened his eyes and concentrated. Slowly a new sign formedon the door.     TRAVELERS AID BUREAU     Murra Foray, First Counselor     It was a drab sign, but, then, it was a dismal, backward planet. Theold technician passed on to the next door and closed his eyes again.     With a sinking feeling, Cassal walked toward the entrance. He neededhelp and he had to find it in this dingy rathole.     Inside, though, it wasn't dingy and it wasn't a rathole. More like amaze, an approved scientific one. Efficient, though not comfortable.Travelers Aid was busier than he thought it would be. Eventually hemanaged to squeeze into one of the many small counseling rooms.     A woman appeared on the screen, crisp and cool. Please answereverything the machine asks. When the tape is complete, I'll beavailable for consultation.     Cassal wasn't sure he was going to like her. Is this necessary? heasked. It's merely a matter of information.     We have certain regulations we abide by. The woman smiled frostily.I can't give you any information until you comply with them.     Sometimes regulations are silly, said Cassal firmly. Let me speak tothe first counselor.     You are speaking to her, she said. Her face disappeared from thescreen.     Cassal sighed. So far he hadn't made a good impression.     Travelers Aid Bureau, in addition to regulations, was abundantlysupplied with official curiosity. When the machine finished with him,Cassal had the feeling he could be recreated from the record it had ofhim. His individuality had been capsuled into a series of questions andanswers. One thing he drew the line at—why he wanted to go to Tunney21 was his own business.     The first counselor reappeared. Age, indeterminate. Not, he supposed,that anyone would be curious about it. Slightly taller than average,rather on the slender side. Face was broad at the brow, narrow at thechin and her eyes were enigmatic. A dangerous woman.  <doc-sep>   DELAY IN TRANSIT     By F. L. WALLACE     Illustrated by SIBLEY     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        An unprovoked, meaningless night attack is       terrifying enough on your own home planet, worse       on a world across the Galaxy. But the horror       is the offer of help that cannot be accepted!        Muscles tense, said Dimanche. Neural index 1.76, unusually high.Adrenalin squirting through his system. In effect, he's stalking you.Intent: probably assault with a deadly weapon.     Not interested, said Cassal firmly, his subvocalization inaudibleto anyone but Dimanche. I'm not the victim type. He was standing onthe walkway near the brink of the thoroughfare. I'm going back to thehabitat hotel and sit tight.     First you have to get there, Dimanche pointed out. I mean, is itsafe for a stranger to walk through the city?     Now that you mention it, no, answered Cassal. He looked aroundapprehensively. Where is he?       Behind you. At the moment he's pretending interest in a merchandisedisplay.     A native stamped by, eyes brown and incurious. Apparently he wasaccustomed to the sight of an Earthman standing alone, Adam's applebobbing up and down silently. It was a Godolphian axiom that alltravelers were crazy.     Cassal looked up. Not an air taxi in sight; Godolph shut down at dusk.It would be pure luck if he found a taxi before morning. Of course he      could     walk back to the hotel, but was that such a good idea?     A Godolphian city was peculiar. And, though not intended, it waspeculiarly suited to certain kinds of violence. A human pedestrian wasat a definite disadvantage.     Correction, said Dimanche. Not simple assault. He has murder inmind.     It still doesn't appeal to me, said Cassal. Striving to lookunconcerned, he strolled toward the building side of the walkway andstared into the interior of a small cafe. Warm, bright and dry. Inside,he might find safety for a time.     Damn the man who was following him! It would be easy enough to eludehim in a normal city. On Godolph, nothing was normal. In an hour thestreets would be brightly lighted—for native eyes. A human wouldconsider it dim.     Why did he choose me? asked Cassal plaintively. There must besomething he hopes to gain.     I'm working on it, said Dimanche. But remember, I have limitations.At short distances I can scan nervous systems, collect and interpretphysiological data. I can't read minds. The best I can do is reportwhat a person says or subvocalizes. If you're really interested infinding out why he wants to kill you, I suggest you turn the problemover to the godawful police.     Godolph, not godawful, corrected Cassal absently.     That was advice he couldn't follow, good as it seemed. He could givethe police no evidence save through Dimanche. There were variousreasons, many of them involving the law, for leaving the device calledDimanche out of it. The police would act if they found a body. His own,say, floating face-down on some quiet street. That didn't seem theproper approach, either.     Weapons?     The first thing I searched him for. Nothing very dangerous. A longknife, a hard striking object. Both concealed on his person.     Cassal strangled slightly. Dimanche needed a good stiff course insemantics. A knife was still the most silent of weapons. A man coulddie from it. His hand strayed toward his pocket. He had a measure ofprotection himself.     Report, said Dimanche. Not necessarily final. Based, perhaps, ontenuous evidence.     Let's have it anyway.     His motivation is connected somehow with your being marooned here. Forsome reason you can't get off this planet.     That was startling information, though not strictly true. A thousandstar systems were waiting for him, and a ship to take him to each one.     Of course, the one ship he wanted hadn't come in. Godolph was atransfer point for stars nearer the center of the Galaxy. When hehad left Earth, he had known he would have to wait a few days here.He hadn't expected a delay of nearly three weeks. Still, it wasn'tunusual. Interstellar schedules over great distances were not asreliable as they might be.     Was this man, whoever and whatever he might be, connected withthat delay? According to Dimanche, the man thought he was. He wasself-deluded or did he have access to information that Cassal didn't?  <doc-sep>Most of the cousins gasped as the truth began to percolate through.     I knew from the very beginning, Conrad finished, that I didn'thave to do anything at all. I just had to wait and you would destroyyourselves.     I don't understand, Bartholomew protested, searching the faces of thecousins closest to him. What does he mean, we have never existed?We're here, aren't we? What—     Shut up! Raymond snapped. He turned on Martin. You don't seemsurprised.     The old man grinned. I'm not. I figured it all out years ago.     At first, he had wondered what he should do. Would it be better tothrow them into a futile panic by telling them or to do nothing? Hehad decided on the latter; that was the role they had assigned him—towatch and wait and keep out of things—and that was the role he wouldplay.     You knew all the time and you didn't tell us! Raymond spluttered.After we'd been so good to you, making a gentleman out of you insteadof a criminal.... That's right, he snarled, a criminal! An alcoholic,a thief, a derelict! How do you like that?     Sounds like a rich, full life, Martin said wistfully.     What an exciting existence they must have done him out of! But then, hecouldn't help thinking, he—he and Conrad together, of course—had donethem out of      any     kind of existence. It wasn't his responsibility,though; he had done nothing but let matters take whatever course wasdestined for them. If only he could be sure that it was the bettercourse, perhaps he wouldn't feel that nagging sense of guilt insidehim. Strange—where, in his hermetic life, could he possibly havedeveloped such a queer thing as a conscience?     Then we've wasted all this time, Ninian sobbed, all this energy, allthis money, for nothing!     But you were nothing to begin with, Martin told them. And then,after a pause, he added, I only wish I could be sure there had beensome purpose to this.     He didn't know whether it was approaching death that dimmed his sight,or whether the frightened crowd that pressed around him was growingshadowy.     I wish I could feel that some good had been done in letting you bewiped out of existence, he went on voicing his thoughts. But I knowthat the same thing that happened to your worlds and my world willhappen all over again. To other people, in other times, but again. It'sbound to happen. There isn't any hope for humanity.     One man couldn't really change the course of human history, he toldhimself. Two men, that was—one real, one a shadow.     Conrad came close to the old man's bed. He was almost transparent.     No, he said, there is hope. They didn't know the time transmitterworks two ways. I used it for going into the past only once—just thisonce. But I've gone into the future with it many times. And— hepressed Martin's hand—believe me, what I did—what      we     did, you andI—serves a purpose. It will change things for the better. Everythingis going to be all right.  <doc-sep>The Military Attache pulled at his lower lip. In that case, we can'ttry conclusions with these fellows until we have an indetectible driveof our own. I recommend a crash project. In the meantime—     I'll have my boys start in to crack this thing, the Chief of theConfidential Terrestrial Source Section spoke up. I'll fit out acouple of volunteers with plastic beaks—     No cloak and dagger work, gentlemen! Long range policy will beworked out by Deep-Think teams back at the Department. Our role willbe a holding action. Now I want suggestions for a comprehensive,well rounded and decisive course for meeting this threat. Anyrecommendation?     The Political Officer placed his fingertips together. What about astiff Note demanding an extra week's time?     No! No begging, the Economic Officer objected. I'd say a calm,dignified, aggressive withdrawal—as soon as possible.     We don't want to give them the idea we spook easily, the MilitaryAttache said. Let's delay the withdrawal—say, until tomorrow.     Early tomorrow, Magnan said. Or maybe later today.     Well, I see you're of a mind with me, Nitworth nodded. Our plan ofaction is clear, but it remains to be implemented. We have a populationof over fifteen million individuals to relocate. He eyed thePolitical Officer. I want five proposals for resettlement on my deskby oh-eight-hundred hours tomorrow. Nitworth rapped out instructions.Harried-looking staff members arose and hurried from the room. Magnaneased toward the door.     Where are you going, Magnan? Nitworth snapped.     Since you're so busy, I thought I'd just slip back down to Com Inq. Itwas a most interesting orientation lecture, Mr. Ambassador. Be sure tolet us know how it works out.     Kindly return to your chair, Nitworth said coldly. A number ofchores remain to be assigned. I think you, Magnan, need a little fieldexperience. I want you to get over to Roolit I and take a look at theseQornt personally.     Magnan's mouth opened and closed soundlessly.     Not afraid of a few Qornt, are you, Magnan?     Afraid? Good lord, no, ha ha. It's just that I'm afraid I may lose myhead and do something rash if I go.     Nonsense! A diplomat is immune to heroic impulses. Take Retief along.No dawdling, now! I want you on the way in two hours. Notify thetransport pool at once. Now get going!     Magnan nodded unhappily and went into the hall.     Oh, Retief, Nitworth said. Retief turned.     Try to restrain Mr. Magnan from any impulsive moves—in anydirection.      II     Retief and Magnan topped a ridge and looked down across a slopeof towering tree-shrubs and glossy violet-stemmed palms set amongflamboyant blossoms of yellow and red, reaching down to a strip ofwhite beach with the blue sea beyond.     A delightful vista, Magnan said, mopping at his face. A pity wecouldn't locate the Qornt. We'll go back now and report—     I'm pretty sure the settlement is off to the right, Retief said. Whydon't you head back for the boat, while I ease over and see what I canobserve.     Retief, we're engaged in a serious mission. This is not a time tothink of sightseeing.     I'd like to take a good look at what we're giving away.     See here, Retief! One might almost receive the impression that you'requestioning Corps policy!     One might, at that. The Qornt have made their play, but I think itmight be valuable to take a look at their cards before we fold. If I'mnot back at the boat in an hour, lift without me.     You expect me to make my way back alone?     It's directly down-slope— Retief broke off, listening. Magnanclutched at his arm.     There was a sound of crackling foliage. Twenty feet ahead, a leafybranch swung aside. An eight-foot biped stepped into view, long, thin,green-clad legs with back-bending knees moving in quick, bird-likesteps. A pair of immense black-lensed goggles covered staring eyes setamong bushy green hair above a great bone-white beak. The crest bobbedas the creature cocked its head, listening.     Magnan gulped audibly. The Qornt froze, head tilted, beak aimeddirectly at the spot where the Terrestrials stood in the deep shade ofa giant trunk.     I'll go for help, Magnan squeaked. He whirled and took three leapsinto the brush.     A second great green-clad figure rose up to block his way. He spun,darted to the left. The first Qornt pounced, grappled Magnan to itsnarrow chest. Magnan yelled, threshing and kicking, broke free,turned—and collided with the eight-foot alien, coming in fast from theright. All three went down in a tangle of limbs.     Retief jumped forward, hauled Magnan free, thrust him aside andstopped, right fist cocked. The two Qornt lay groaning feebly.     Nice piece of work, Mr. Magnan, Retief said. You nailed both ofthem.  <doc-sep>She had finished. And now Cyril cleared his throat. Dear friends, wewere honored by your gracious invitation to visit this fair planet, andwe are honored now by the cordial reception you have given to us.     The crowd yoomped politely. After a slight start, Cyril went on,apparently deciding that applause was all that had been intended.     We feel quite sure that we are going to derive both pleasure andprofit from our stay here, and we promise to make our intensiveanalysis of your culture as painless as possible. We wish only to studyyour society, not to tamper with it in any way.       Ha, ha     , Skkiru said to himself.      Ha, ha, ha!       But why is it, Raoul whispered in Terran as he glanced around out ofthe corners of his eyes, that only the beggar wears mudshoes?     Shhh, Cyril hissed back. We'll find out later, when we'veestablished rapport. Don't be so impatient!     Bbulas gave a sickly smile. Skkiru could almost find it in his heartsto feel sorry for the man.     We have prepared our best hut for you, noble sirs, Bbulas said withgreat self-control, and, by happy chance, this very evening a smallbut unusually interesting ceremony will be held outside the temple. Wehope you will be able to attend. It is to be a rain dance.     Rain dance! Raoul pulled his macintosh together more tightly at thethroat. But why do you want rain? My faith, not only does it rain now,but the planet seems to be a veritable sea of mud. Not, of course, headded hurriedly as Cyril's reproachful eye caught his, that it is notattractive mud. Finest mud I have ever seen. Such texture, such color,such aroma!     Cyril nodded three times and gave an appreciative sniff.     But, Raoul went on, one can have too much of even such a good thingas mud....     The smile did not leave Bbulas' smooth face. Yes, of course, honorableTerrestrials. That is why we are holding this ceremony. It is not adance to bring on rain. It is a dance to      stop     rain.     He was pretty quick on the uptake, Skkiru had to concede. However,that was not enough. The man had no genuine organizational ability.In the time he'd had in which to plan and carry out a scheme forthe improvement of Snaddra, surely he could have done better thanthis high-school theocracy. For one thing, he could have apportionedthe various roles so that each person would be making a definitecontribution to the society, instead of creating some positions plums,like the priesthood, and others prunes, like the beggarship.     What kind of life was that for an active, ambitious young man, standingaround begging? And, moreover, from whom was Skkiru going to beg?Only the Earthmen, for the Snaddrath, no matter how much they threwthemselves into the spirit of their roles, could not be so carriedaway that they would give handouts to a young man whom they had beenaccustomed to see basking in the bosom of luxury.  <doc-sep>Cousin Ives—now that Martin was older, he was told to call thedescendants      cousin     —next assumed guardianship. Ives took hisresponsibilities more seriously than the others did. He even arrangedto have Martin's work shown at an art gallery. The paintings receivedcritical approval, but failed to evoke any enthusiasm. The modestsale they enjoyed was mostly to interior decorators. Museums were notinterested.     Takes time, Ives tried to reassure him. One day they'll be buyingyour pictures, Martin. Wait and see.     Ives was the only one of the descendants who seemed to think of Martinas an individual. When his efforts to make contact with the other youngman failed, he got worried and decided that what Martin needed was achange of air and scenery.     'Course you can't go on the Grand Tour. Your son hasn't inventedspace travel yet. But we can go see this world. What's left of it.Tourists always like ruins best, anyway.     So he drew on the family's vast future resources and bought a yacht,which Martin christened      The Interregnum     . They traveled about from seato ocean and from ocean to sea, touching at various ports and makingtrips inland. Martin saw the civilized world—mostly in fragments; thenearly intact semi-civilized world and the uncivilized world, much thesame as it had been for centuries. It was like visiting an enormousmuseum; he couldn't seem to identify with his own time any more.     The other cousins appeared to find the yacht a congenial head-quarters,largely because they could spend so much time far away from thecontemporary inhabitants of the planet and relax and be themselves. Sothey never moved back to land. Martin spent the rest of his life on      The Interregnum     . He felt curiously safer from Conrad there, althoughthere was no valid reason why an ocean should stop a traveler throughtime.     More cousins were in residence at once than ever before, becausethey came for the ocean voyage. They spent most of their time aboardship, giving each other parties and playing an      avant-garde     form ofshuffleboard and gambling on future sporting events. That last usuallyended in a brawl, because one cousin was sure to accuse another ofhaving got advance information about the results.     Martin didn't care much for their company and associated with them onlywhen not to have done so would have been palpably rude. And, thoughthey were gregarious young people for the most part, they didn't courthis society. He suspected that he made them feel uncomfortable.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What role does Murra Foray play in the events of DELAY IN TRANSIT?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the backdrop of the story DELAY IN TRANSIT? [SEP] <s>   DELAY IN TRANSIT     By F. L. WALLACE     Illustrated by SIBLEY     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        An unprovoked, meaningless night attack is       terrifying enough on your own home planet, worse       on a world across the Galaxy. But the horror       is the offer of help that cannot be accepted!        Muscles tense, said Dimanche. Neural index 1.76, unusually high.Adrenalin squirting through his system. In effect, he's stalking you.Intent: probably assault with a deadly weapon.     Not interested, said Cassal firmly, his subvocalization inaudibleto anyone but Dimanche. I'm not the victim type. He was standing onthe walkway near the brink of the thoroughfare. I'm going back to thehabitat hotel and sit tight.     First you have to get there, Dimanche pointed out. I mean, is itsafe for a stranger to walk through the city?     Now that you mention it, no, answered Cassal. He looked aroundapprehensively. Where is he?       Behind you. At the moment he's pretending interest in a merchandisedisplay.     A native stamped by, eyes brown and incurious. Apparently he wasaccustomed to the sight of an Earthman standing alone, Adam's applebobbing up and down silently. It was a Godolphian axiom that alltravelers were crazy.     Cassal looked up. Not an air taxi in sight; Godolph shut down at dusk.It would be pure luck if he found a taxi before morning. Of course he      could     walk back to the hotel, but was that such a good idea?     A Godolphian city was peculiar. And, though not intended, it waspeculiarly suited to certain kinds of violence. A human pedestrian wasat a definite disadvantage.     Correction, said Dimanche. Not simple assault. He has murder inmind.     It still doesn't appeal to me, said Cassal. Striving to lookunconcerned, he strolled toward the building side of the walkway andstared into the interior of a small cafe. Warm, bright and dry. Inside,he might find safety for a time.     Damn the man who was following him! It would be easy enough to eludehim in a normal city. On Godolph, nothing was normal. In an hour thestreets would be brightly lighted—for native eyes. A human wouldconsider it dim.     Why did he choose me? asked Cassal plaintively. There must besomething he hopes to gain.     I'm working on it, said Dimanche. But remember, I have limitations.At short distances I can scan nervous systems, collect and interpretphysiological data. I can't read minds. The best I can do is reportwhat a person says or subvocalizes. If you're really interested infinding out why he wants to kill you, I suggest you turn the problemover to the godawful police.     Godolph, not godawful, corrected Cassal absently.     That was advice he couldn't follow, good as it seemed. He could givethe police no evidence save through Dimanche. There were variousreasons, many of them involving the law, for leaving the device calledDimanche out of it. The police would act if they found a body. His own,say, floating face-down on some quiet street. That didn't seem theproper approach, either.     Weapons?     The first thing I searched him for. Nothing very dangerous. A longknife, a hard striking object. Both concealed on his person.     Cassal strangled slightly. Dimanche needed a good stiff course insemantics. A knife was still the most silent of weapons. A man coulddie from it. His hand strayed toward his pocket. He had a measure ofprotection himself.     Report, said Dimanche. Not necessarily final. Based, perhaps, ontenuous evidence.     Let's have it anyway.     His motivation is connected somehow with your being marooned here. Forsome reason you can't get off this planet.     That was startling information, though not strictly true. A thousandstar systems were waiting for him, and a ship to take him to each one.     Of course, the one ship he wanted hadn't come in. Godolph was atransfer point for stars nearer the center of the Galaxy. When hehad left Earth, he had known he would have to wait a few days here.He hadn't expected a delay of nearly three weeks. Still, it wasn'tunusual. Interstellar schedules over great distances were not asreliable as they might be.     Was this man, whoever and whatever he might be, connected withthat delay? According to Dimanche, the man thought he was. He wasself-deluded or did he have access to information that Cassal didn't?  <doc-sep>  THE GIANTS RETURN     By ROBERT ABERNATHY     Earth set itself grimly to meet them with     corrosive fire, determined to blast them     back to the stars. But they erred in thinking     the Old Ones were too big to be clever.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      In the last hours the star ahead had grown brighter by many magnitudes,and had changed its color from a dazzling blue through white to thenormal yellow, of a GO sun. That was the Doppler effect as the star'sradial velocity changed relative to the      Quest III     , as for forty hoursthe ship had decelerated.     They had seen many such stars come near out of the galaxy's glitteringbackdrop, and had seen them dwindle, turn red and go out as the      QuestIII     drove on its way once more, lashed by despair toward the speed oflight, leaving behind the mockery of yet another solitary and lifelessluminary unaccompanied by worlds where men might dwell. They had grownsated with the sight of wonders—of multiple systems of giant stars, ofnebulae that sprawled in empty flame across light years.     But now unwonted excitement possessed the hundred-odd members of the      Quest III's     crew. It was a subdued excitement; men and women, theycame and stood quietly gazing into the big vision screens that showedthe oncoming star, and there were wide-eyed children who had been bornin the ship and had never seen a planet. The grownups talked in lowvoices, in tones of mingled eagerness and apprehension, of what mightlie at the long journey's end. For the      Quest III     was coming home; thesun ahead was      the     Sun, whose rays had warmed their lives' beginning.  <doc-sep>Kaiser wondered about the abrupt recall. Could the      Soscites II     beexperiencing some difficulty? He shrugged the thought aside. If theywere, they would have told him. The last notes had had more than just asuggestion of urgency—there appeared to be a deliberate concealing ofinformation.     Strangely, the messages indicated need for haste did not prod Kaiser.He knew now that the job could be done, perhaps in a few hours' time.And the      Soscites II     would not complete its orbit of the planet fortwo weeks yet.     Without putting on more than the shirt and trousers he had grown usedto wearing, Kaiser went outside and wandered listlessly about thevicinity of the ship for several hours. When he became hungry, he wentback inside.     Another message came in as he finished eating. This one was from thecaptain himself:     WHY HAVE WE RECEIVED NO VERIFICATION OF LAST INSTRUCTIONS? REPAIRSCOUT IMMEDIATELY AND RETURN WITHOUT FURTHER DELAY. THIS IS AN ORDER!     H. A. HESSE, CAPT.     Kaiser pushed the last of his meal—which he had been eating with hisfingers—into his mouth, crumpled the tape, wiped the grease from hishands with it and dropped it to the floor.     He pondered mildly, as he packed his equipment, why he was disregardingthe captain's message. For some reason, it seemed too trivial forserious consideration. He placated his slightly uneasy conscience onlyto the extent of packing the communicator in with his other equipment.It was a self-contained unit and he'd be able to receive messages fromthe ship on his trip.  <doc-sep>   The Sense of Wonder     By MILTON LESSER     Illustrated by HARRY ROSENBAUM     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      When nobody aboard ship remembers where it's     going, how can they tell when it has arrived?      Every day for a week now, Rikud had come to the viewport to watchthe great changeless sweep of space. He could not quite explain thefeelings within him; they were so alien, so unnatural. But ever sincethe engines somewhere in the rear of the world had changed their tone,from the steady whining Rikud had heard all twenty-five years of hislife, to the sullen roar that came to his ears now, the feelings hadgrown.     If anyone else had noticed the change, he failed to mention it. Thisdisturbed Rikud, although he could not tell why. And, because he hadrealized this odd difference in himself, he kept it locked up insidehim.     Today, space looked somehow different. The stars—it was a meaninglessconcept to Rikud, but that was what everyone called the brightpinpoints of light on the black backdrop in the viewport—were notapparent in the speckled profusion Rikud had always known. Instead,there was more of the blackness, and one very bright star set apartby itself in the middle of the viewport.     If he had understood the term, Rikud would have told himself this wasodd. His head ached with the half-born thought. It was—it was—whatwas it?     Someone was clomping up the companionway behind Rikud. He turned andgreeted gray-haired old Chuls.     In five more years, the older man chided, you'll be ready to sirechildren. And all you can do in the meantime is gaze out at the stars.     Rikud knew he should be exercising now, or bathing in the rays of thehealth-lamps. It had never occurred to him that he didn't feel like it;he just didn't, without comprehending.     Chuls' reminder fostered uneasiness. Often Rikud had dreamed of thetime he would be thirty and a father. Whom would the Calculator selectas his mate? The first time this idea had occurred to him, Rikudignored it. But it came again, and each time it left him with a feelinghe could not explain. Why should he think thoughts that no other manhad? Why should he think he was thinking such thoughts, when it alwaysembroiled him in a hopeless, infinite confusion that left him with aheadache?     Chuls said, It is time for my bath in the health-rays. I saw you hereand knew it was your time, too....     His voice trailed off. Rikud knew that something which he could notexplain had entered the elder man's head for a moment, but it haddeparted almost before Chuls knew of its existence.     I'll go with you, Rikud told him.  <doc-sep>It was quite a bang, said Retief. But I guess you saw it, too.     No, confound it, Magnan said. When I remonstrated with Hulk, orWhelk—     Whonk.     —the ruffian thrust me into an alley bound in my own cloak. I'll mostcertainly complain to the Minister.     How about the surgical mission?     A most generous offer, said Magnan. Frankly, I was astonished. Ithink perhaps we've judged the Groaci too harshly.     I hear the Ministry of Youth has had a rough morning of it, saidRetief. And a lot of rumors are flying to the effect that Youth Groupsare on the way out.     Magnan cleared his throat, shuffled papers. I—ah—have explained tothe press that last night's—ah—     Fiasco.     —affair was necessary in order to place the culprits in an untenableposition. Of course, as to the destruction of the VIP vessel and thepresumed death of, uh, Slop.     The Fustians understand, said Retief. Whonk wasn't kidding aboutceremonial vengeance.     The Groaci had been guilty of gross misuse of diplomatic privilege,said Magnan. I think that a note—or perhaps an Aide Memoire: lessformal....     The      Moss Rock     was bound for Groaci, said Retief. She was alreadyin her transit orbit when she blew. The major fragments will arrive onschedule in a month or so. It should provide quite a meteorite display.I think that should be all the      aide     the Groaci's      memoires     will needto keep their tentacles off Fust.     But diplomatic usage—     Then, too, the less that's put in writing, the less they can blame youfor, if anything goes wrong.     That's true, said Magnan, lips pursed. Now you're thinkingconstructively, Retief. We may make a diplomat of you yet. He smiledexpansively.     Maybe. But I refuse to let it depress me. Retief stood up. I'mtaking a few weeks off ... if you have no objection, Mr. Ambassador. Mypal Whonk wants to show me an island down south where the fishing isgood.     But there are some extremely important matters coming up, saidMagnan. We're planning to sponsor Senior Citizen Groups—     Count me out. All groups give me an itch.     Why, what an astonishing remark, Retief! After all, we diplomats areourselves a group.     Uh-huh, Retief said.     Magnan sat quietly, mouth open, and watched as Retief stepped into thehall and closed the door gently behind him.   <doc-sep>In the evening a girl brought Maitland his meal. As the door slidaside, he automatically stood up, and they stared at each other forseveral seconds.     She had the high cheekbones and almond eyes of an Oriental, skin thatglowed like gold in the evening light, yet thick coiled braids ofblonde hair that glittered like polished brass. Shorts and a sleevelessblouse of some thick, reddish, metallic-looking fabric clung to herbody, and over that she was wearing a light, ankle-length cloak of whatseemed to be white wool.     She was looking at him with palpable curiosity and something likeexpectancy. Maitland sighed and said, Hello, then glanced downself-consciously at his wrinkled green pajamas.       She smiled, put the tray of food on the table, and swept out, her cloakbillowing behind her. Maitland remained standing, staring at the closeddoor for a minute after she was gone.     Later, when he had finished the steak and corn on the cob and shreddedcarrots, and a feeling of warm well-being was diffusing from hisstomach to his extremities, he sat down on the bed to watch the sunsetand to think.     There were three questions for which he required answers before hecould formulate any plan or policy.     Where was he?     Who was Swarts?     What was the purpose of the tests he was being given?     It was possible, of course, that this was all an elaborate schemefor getting military secrets, despite Swarts' protestations to thecontrary. Maitland frowned. This place certainly didn't have theappearance of a military establishment, and so far there had beennothing to suggest the kind of interrogation to be expected fromforeign intelligence officers.     It might be better to tackle the first question first. He looked atthe Sun, a red spheroid already half below the horizon, and tried tothink of a region that had this kind of terrain. That prairie out therewas unique. Almost anywhere in the world, land like that would becultivated, not allowed to go to grass.     This might be somewhere in Africa....     He shook his head, puzzled. The Sun disappeared and its blood-huedglow began to fade from the sky. Maitland sat there, trying to gethold of the problem from an angle where it wouldn't just slip away.After a while the western sky became a screen of clear luminous blue,a backdrop for a pure white brilliant star. As always at that sight,Maitland felt his worry drain away, leaving an almost mystical sense ofpeace and an undefinable longing.     Venus, the most beautiful of the planets.     Maitland kept track of them all in their majestic paths through theconstellations, but Venus was his favorite. Time and time again hehad watched its steady climb higher and higher in the western sky,its transient rule there as evening star, its progression toward thehorizon, and loved it equally in its      alter ego     of morning star. Venuswas an old friend. An old friend....     Something icy settled on the back of his neck, ran down his spine, anddiffused into his body. He stared at the planet unbelievingly, fistsclenched, forgetting to breathe.     Last night Venus hadn't been there.     Venus was a morning star just now....       Just now!       He realized the truth in that moment.  <doc-sep>Wilkins moved away. Isobar waited until the Patrolman was completelyout of sight. Then swiftly he pulled open the massive gate, slippedthrough, and closed it behind him.     A flood of warmth, exhilarating after the constantly regulatedtemperature of the Dome, descended upon him. Fresh air, thin, butfragrant with the scent of growing things, made his pulses stir withjoyous abandon. He was Outside! He was Outside, in good sunlight, atlast! After six long and dreary months!     Raptly, blissfully, all thought of caution tossed to the gentle breezesthat ruffled his sparse hair, Isobar Jones stepped forward into thelunar valley....     How long he wandered thus, carefree and utterly content, he could notafterward say. It seemed like minutes; it must have been longer. Heonly knew that the grass was green beneath his feet, the trees were alacy network through which warm sunlight filtered benevolently, thechirrupings of small insects and the rustling whisper of the breezesformed a tiny symphony of happiness through which he moved as onecharmed.     It did not occur to him that he had wandered too far from the Dome'sentrance until, strolling through an enchanting flower-decked glade, hewas startled to hear—off to his right—the sharp, explosive bark of aHaemholtz ray pistol.     He whirled, staring about him wildly, and discovered that though hismeandering had kept him near the Dome, he had unconsciously followedits hemispherical perimeter to a point nearly two miles from theGateway. By the placement of ports and windows, Isobar was able tojudge his location perfectly; he was opposite that portion of thestructure which housed Sparks' radio turret.     And the shooting? That could only be—     He did not have to name its reason, even to himself. For at thatmoment, there came racing around the curve of the Dome a pair offigures, Patrolmen clad in fatigue drab. Roberts and Brown. Roberts wasstaggering, one foot dragged awkwardly as he ran; Brown's left arm,bloodstained from shoulder to elbow, hung limply at his side, but inhis good right fist he held a spitting Haemholtz with which he tried tocover his comrade's sluggish retreat.     And behind these two, grim, grey, gaunt figures that moved withastonishing speed despite their massive bulk, came three ... six ... adozen of those lunarites whom all men feared. The Grannies!      III     Simultaneously with his recognition of the pair, Joe Roberts saw him. Agasp of relief escaped the wounded man.     Jones! Thank the Lord! Then you picked up our cry for help? Quick,man—where is it? Theres not a moment to waste!     W-where, faltered Isobar feebly, is      what     ?     The tank, of course! Didn't you hear our telecast? We can't possiblymake it back to the gate without an armored car. My foot's broken,and— Roberts stopped suddenly, an abrupt horror in his eyes. Youdon't have one! You're here      alone     ! Then you didn't pick up our call?But, why—?     Never mind that, snapped Isobar, now! Placid by nature, he couldmove when urgency drove. His quick mind saw the immediateness of theirperil. Unarmed, he could not help the Patrolmen fight a delaying actionagainst their foes, nor could he hasten their retreat. Anyway, weaponswere useless, and time was of the essence. There was but one temporaryway of staving off disaster. Over here ... this tree! Quick! Up yougo! Give him a lift, Brown—There! That's the stuff!     He was the last to scramble up the gnarled bole to a tentative leafysanctuary. He had barely gained the security of the lowermost boughwhen a thundering crash resounded, the sturdy trunk trembled beneathhis clutch. Stony claws gouged yellow parallels in the bark scantinches beneath one kicking foot, then the Granny fell back with a thud.The Graniteback was      not     a climber. It was far too ungainly, much tooweighty for that.     Roberts said weakly, Th-thanks, Jonesy! That was a close call.     That goes for me, too, Jonesy, added Brown from an upper bough.But I'm afraid you just delayed matters. This tree's O.Q. as longas it lasts, but— He stared down upon the gathering knot ofGrannies unhappily—it's not going to last long with that bunch ofsuperdreadnaughts working out on it! Hold tight, fellows! Here theycome!     For the Grannies, who had huddled for a moment as if in telepathicconsultation, now joined forces, turned, and as one body chargedheadlong toward the tree. The unified force of their attack was likethe shattering impact of a battering ram. Bark rasped and grittedbeneath the besieged men's hands, dry leaves and twigs pelted aboutthem in a tiny rain, tormented fibrous sinews groaned as the agedforest monarch shuddered in agony.     Desperately they clung to their perches. Though the great tree bent, itdid not break. But when it stopped trembling, it was canted drunkenlyto one side, and the erstwhile solid earth about its base was brokenand cracked—revealing fleshy tentacles uprooted from ancient moorings!  <doc-sep>   I am a Nucleus     By STEPHEN BARR     Illustrated by GAUGHAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction February 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      No doubt whatever about it, I had the Indian     sign on me ... my comfortably untidy world had     suddenly turned into a monstrosity of order!      When I got home from the office, I was not so much tired as beatendown, but the effect is similar. I let myself into the apartment, whichhad an absentee-wife look, and took a cold shower. The present downtowntemperature, according to the radio, was eighty-seven degrees, butaccording to my Greenwich Village thermometer, it was ninety-six. I gotdressed and went into the living room, and wished ardently that mywife Molly were here to tell me why the whole place looked so woebegone.     What do they do, I asked myself, that I have left undone? I've vacuumedthe carpet, I've dusted and I've straightened the cushions.... Ah! Theashtrays. I emptied them, washed them and put them back, but still theplace looked wife-deserted.     It had been a bad day; I had forgotten to wind the alarm clock, so I'dhad to hurry to make a story conference at one of the TV studios Iwrite for. I didn't notice the impending rain storm and had no umbrellawhen I reached the sidewalk, to find myself confronted with an almosttropical downpour. I would have turned back, but a taxi came up and awoman got out, so I dashed through the rain and got in.     Madison and Fifty-fourth, I said.     Right, said the driver, and I heard the starter grind, and then goon grinding. After some futile efforts, he turned to me. Sorry, Mac.You'll have to find another cab. Good hunting.     If possible, it was raining still harder. I opened my newspaper overmy hat and ran for the subway: three blocks. Whizzing traffic heldme up at each crossing and I was soaked when I reached the platform,just in time to miss the local. After an abnormal delay, I got onewhich exactly missed the express at Fourteenth Street. The same thinghappened at both ends of the crosstown shuttle, but I found the rainhad stopped when I got out at Fifty-first and Lexington.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the backdrop of the story DELAY IN TRANSIT?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a brief summary of the storyline in Appointment in Tomorrow? [SEP] <s>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>   THE LONG REMEMBERED THUNDER     BY KEITH LAUMER     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of Tomorrow April 1963     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      He was as ancient as time—and as strange as     his own frightful battle against incredible odds!      I     In his room at the Elsby Commercial Hotel, Tremaine opened his luggageand took out a small tool kit, used a screwdriver to remove the bottomcover plate from the telephone. He inserted a tiny aluminum cylinder,crimped wires and replaced the cover. Then he dialed a long-distanceWashington number and waited half a minute for the connection.     Fred, Tremaine here. Put the buzzer on. A thin hum sounded on thewire as the scrambler went into operation.     Okay, can you read me all right? I'm set up in Elsby. Grammond's boysare supposed to keep me informed. Meantime, I'm not sitting in thisdamned room crouched over a dial. I'll be out and around for the restof the afternoon.     I want to see results, the thin voice came back over the filteredhum of the jamming device. You spent a week with Grammond—I can'twait another. I don't mind telling you certain quarters are pressingme.     Fred, when will you learn to sit on your news breaks until you've gotsome answers to go with the questions?     I'm an appointive official, Fred said sharply. But never mindthat. This fellow Margrave—General Margrave. Project Officer for thehyperwave program—he's been on my neck day and night. I can't say Iblame him. An unauthorized transmitter interfering with a Top Secretproject, progress slowing to a halt, and this Bureau—     Look, Fred. I was happy in the lab. Headaches, nightmares and all.Hyperwave is my baby, remember? You elected me to be a leg-man: now letme do it my way.     I felt a technical man might succeed where a trained investigatorcould be misled. And since it seems to be pinpointed in your homearea—     You don't have to justify yourself. Just don't hold out on me. Isometimes wonder if I've seen the complete files on this—     You've seen all the files! Now I want answers, not questions! I'mwarning you, Tremaine. Get that transmitter. I need someone to hang!  <doc-sep>III     Oh, yes, and Jamieson had a feeble paper on what he calledindividualization in marine worms. Barr, have you ever thought muchabout the larger aspects of the problem of individuality?     Jack jumped slightly. He had let his thoughts wander very far.     Not especially, sir, he mumbled.     The house was still. A few minutes after the professor's arrival,Mrs. Kesserich had gone off with an anxious glance at Jack. He knewwhy and wished he could reassure her that he would not mention theirconversation to the professor.     Kesserich had spent perhaps a half hour briefing him on the moreimportant papers delivered at the conferences. Then, almost as ifit were a teacher's trick to show up a pupil's inattention, he hadsuddenly posed this question about individuality.     You know what I mean, of course, Kesserich pressed. The factors thatmake you you, and me me.     Heredity and environment, Jack parroted like a freshman.     Kesserich nodded. Suppose—this is just speculation—that we couldcontrol heredity and environment. Then we could re-create the sameindividual at will.     Jack felt a shiver go through him. To get exactly the same pattern ofhereditary traits. That'd be far beyond us.     What about identical twins? Kesserich pointed out. And then there'sparthenogenesis to be considered. One might produce a duplicate of themother without the intervention of the male. Although his voice hadgrown more idly speculative, Kesserich seemed to Jack to be smilingsecretly. There are many examples in the lower animal forms, to saynothing of the technique by which Loeb caused a sea urchin to reproducewith no more stimulus than a salt solution.     Jack felt the hair rising on his neck. Even then you wouldn't getexactly the same pattern of hereditary traits.     Not if the parent were of very pure stock? Not if there were somespecial technique for selecting ova that would reproduce all themother's traits?     But environment would change things, Jack objected. The duplicatewould be bound to develop differently.     Is environment so important? Newman tells about a pair of identicaltwins separated from birth, unaware of each other's existence. They metby accident when they were twenty-one. Each was a telephone repairman.Each had a wife the same age. Each had a baby son. And each had a foxterrier called 'Trixie.' That's without trying to make environmentssimilar. But suppose you did try. Suppose you saw to it that each ofthem had exactly the same experiences at the same times....     For a moment it seemed to Jack that the room was dimming and wavering,becoming a dark pool in which the only motionless thing was Kesserich'ssphinx-like face.     Well, we've escaped quite far enough from Jamieson's marine worms,the biologist said, all brisk again. He said it as if Jack were theone who had led the conversation down wild and unprofitable channels.Let's get on to your project. I want to talk it over now, because Iwon't have any time for it tomorrow.     Jack looked at him blankly.     Tomorrow I must attend to a very important matter, the biologistexplained.  <doc-sep>   Appointment in Tomorrow     BY FRITZ LEIBER     Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction July 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Is it possible to have a world without moral values?     Or does lack of morality become a moral value, also?      The first angry rays of the sun—which, startlingly enough, still rosein the east at 24 hour intervals—pierced the lacy tops of Atlanticcombers and touched thousands of sleeping Americans with unconsciousfear, because of their unpleasant similarity to the rays from World WarIII's atomic bombs.     They turned to blood the witch-circle of rusty steel skeletons aroundInferno in Manhattan. Without comment, they pointed a cosmic finger atthe tarnished brass plaque commemorating the martyrdom of the ThreePhysicists after the dropping of the Hell Bomb. They tenderly touchedthe rosy skin and strawberry bruises on the naked shoulders of agirl sleeping off a drunk on the furry and radiantly heated floor ofa nearby roof garden. They struck green magic from the glassy blotthat was Old Washington. Twelve hours before, they had revealed thingsas eerily beautiful, and as ravaged, in Asia and Russia. They pinkedthe white walls of the Colonial dwelling of Morton Opperly near theInstitute for Advanced Studies; upstairs they slanted impartiallyacross the Pharoahlike and open-eyed face of the elderly physicist andthe ugly, sleep-surly one of young Willard Farquar in the next room.And in nearby New Washington they made of the spire of the Thinkers'Foundation a blue and optimistic glory that outshone White House, Jr.     It was America approaching the end of the Twentieth Century. Americaof juke-box burlesque and your local radiation hospital. Americaof the mask-fad for women and Mystic Christianity. America of theoff-the-bosom dress and the New Blue Laws. America of the Endless Warand the loyalty detector. America of marvelous Maizie and the monthlyrocket to Mars. America of the Thinkers and (a few remembered) theInstitute. Knock on titanium, Whadya do for black-outs, Please,lover, don't think when I'm around, America, as combat-shocked andcrippled as the rest of the bomb-shattered planet.     Not one impudent photon of the sunlight penetrated the triple-paned,polarizing windows of Jorj Helmuth's bedroom in the Thinker'sFoundation, yet the clock in his brain awakened him to the minute,or almost. Switching off the Educational Sandman in the midst of thephrase, ... applying tensor calculus to the nucleus, he took adeep, even breath and cast his mind to the limits of the world andhis knowledge. It was a somewhat shadowy vision, but, he noted withimpartial approval, definitely less shadowy than yesterday morning.     Employing a rapid mental scanning technique, he next cleared his memorychains of false associations, including those acquired while asleep.These chores completed, he held his finger on a bedside button, whichrotated the polarizing window panes until the room slowly filled with amuted daylight. Then, still flat on his back, he turned his head untilhe could look at the remarkably beautiful blonde girl asleep beside him.  <doc-sep>There are tensions in this room, my sister announced as she slouchedin, not quite awake yet, and hatred. I could feel them all the wayupstairs. And today I'm working on the Sleepsweet Mattress copy, so Imust feel absolutely tranquil. Everyone will think beautiful thoughts,please.     She sat down just as a glass of orange juice was arriving at herplace; Danny apparently didn't know she'd come in already. The glassbumped into the back of her neck, tilted and poured its contents overher shoulder and down her very considerable decolletage. Being a mereprimitive, I couldn't help laughing.     Danny, you fumbler! she screamed.     Danny erupted from the kitchen. How many times have I asked all of younot to sit down until I've got everything on the table? Always a lot ofinterfering busybodies getting in the way.     I don't see why you have to set the table at all, she retorted. Arobot could do it better and faster than you. Even Kev could. Sheturned quickly toward me. Oh, I am sorry, Kevin.     I didn't say anything; I was too busy pressing my hands down on theback of the chair to make my knuckles turn white.     Sylvia's face turned even whiter. Father, stop him—      stop     him! He'shating again! I can't stand it!     Father looked at me, then at her. I don't think he can help it,Sylvia.     I grinned. That's right—I'm just a poor atavism with no control overmyself a-tall.     Finally my mother came in from the kitchen; she was an old-fashionedwoman and didn't hold with robocooks. One quick glance at me gave herthe complete details, even though I quickly protested, It's illegal toprobe anyone without permission.     I used to probe you to find out when you needed your diapers changed,she said tartly, and I'll probe you now. You should watch yourself,Sylvia—poor Kevin isn't responsible.     She didn't need to probe to get the blast of naked emotion that spurtedout from me. My sister screamed and even Father looked uncomfortable.Danny stomped back into the kitchen, muttering to himself.     Mother's lips tightened. Sylvia, go upstairs and change your dress.Kevin, do I have to make an appointment for you at the clinic again?A psychiatrist never diagnosed members of his own family—that is, notofficially; they couldn't help offering thumbnail diagnoses any morethan they could help having thumbnails.     No use, I said, deciding it was safe to drop into my chair. Who canadjust me to an environment to which I'm fundamentally unsuited?     Maybe there is something physically wrong with him, Amy, my fathersuggested hopefully. Maybe you should make an appointment for him atthe cure-all?     Mother shook her neatly coiffed head. He's been to it dozens of timesand he always checks out in splendid shape. None of us can spare thetime to go with him again, just on an off-chance, and he could hardlybe allowed to make such a long trip all by himself. Pity there isn't amachine in every community, but, then, we don't really need them.  <doc-sep>Untrimmed sumacs threw late-afternoon shadows on the discolored stuccofacade of the Elsby Public Library. Inside, Tremaine followed apaper-dry woman of indeterminate age to a rack of yellowed newsprint.     You'll find back to nineteen-forty here, the librarian said. Theolder are there in the shelves.     I want nineteen-oh-one, if they go back that far.     The woman darted a suspicious look at Tremaine. You have to handlethese old papers carefully.     I'll be extremely careful. The woman sniffed, opened a drawer, leafedthrough it, muttering.     What date was it you wanted?     Nineteen-oh-one; the week of May nineteenth.     The librarian pulled out a folded paper, placed it on the table,adjusted her glasses, squinted at the front page. That's it, shesaid. These papers keep pretty well, provided they're stored in thedark. But they're still flimsy, mind you.     I'll remember. The woman stood by as Tremaine looked over the frontpage. The lead article concerned the opening of the Pan-AmericanExposition at Buffalo. Vice-President Roosevelt had made a speech.Tremaine leafed over, reading slowly.     On page four, under a column headed      County Notes     he saw the name Bram:     Mr. Bram has purchased a quarter section of fine grazing land,north of town, together with a sturdy house, from J. P. Spivey ofElsby. Mr. Bram will occupy the home and will continue to graze afew head of stock. Mr. Bram, who is a newcomer to the county, hasbeen a resident of Mrs. Stoate's Guest Home in Elsby for the pastmonths.     May I see some earlier issues; from about the first of the year?     The librarian produced the papers. Tremaine turned the pages, read theheads, skimmed an article here and there. The librarian went back toher desk. An hour later, in the issue for July 7, 1900, an item caughthis eye:     A Severe Thunderstorm. Citizens of Elsby and the country were muchalarmed by a violent cloudburst, accompanied by lightning andthunder, during the night of the fifth. A fire set in the pinewoods north of Spivey's farm destroyed a considerable amount oftimber and threatened the house before burning itself out alongthe river.     The librarian was at Tremaine's side. I have to close the library now.You'll have to come back tomorrow.     Outside, the sky was sallow in the west: lights were coming on inwindows along the side streets. Tremaine turned up his collar against acold wind that had risen, started along the street toward the hotel.     A block away a black late-model sedan rounded a corner with a faintsqueal of tires and gunned past him, a heavy antenna mounted forwardof the left rear tail fin whipping in the slipstream. Tremaine stoppedshort, stared after the car.     Damn! he said aloud. An elderly man veered, eyeing him sharply.Tremaine set off at a run, covered the two blocks to the hotel, yankedopen the door to his car, slid into the seat, made a U-turn, and headednorth after the police car.  <doc-sep>The mild shocks went on—whether from projectiles or energy-charges,would be hard to find out and it didn't matter; whatever was hittingthe      Quest III's     shell was doing it at velocities where thedistinction between matter and radiation practically ceases to exist.     But that shell was tough. It was an extension of the gravitic drivefield which transmitted the engines' power equally to every atom ofthe ship; forces impinging on the outside of the field were similarlytransmitted and rendered harmless. The effect was as if the vessel andall space inside its field were a single perfectly elastic body. Ameteoroid, for example, on striking it rebounded—usually vaporized bythe impact—and the ship, in obedience to the law of equal and oppositeforces, rebounded too, but since its mass was so much greater, itsdeflection was negligible.     The people in the      Quest III     would have felt nothing at all ofthe vicious onslaught being hurled against them, save that theirinertialess drive, at its normal thrust of two hundred gravities,was intentionally operated at one half of one per cent efficiency toprovide the illusion of Earthly gravitation.     One of the officers said shakily, It's as if they've been lying inwait for us. But why on Earth—     That, said the captain grimly, is what we have to find out. Why—onEarth. At least, I suspect the answer's there.     The      Quest III     bored steadily on through space, decelerating. Even ifone were no fatalist, there seemed no reason to stop decelerating orchange course. There was nowhere else to go and too little fuel leftif there had been; come what might, this was journey's end—perhapsin a more violent and final way than had been anticipated. All aroundwheeled the pigmy enemies, circling, maneuvering, and attacking,always attacking, with the senseless fury of maddened hornets. Theinterstellar ship bore no offensive weapons—but suddenly on one of thevision screens a speck of light flared into nova-brilliance, dazzlingthe watchers for the brief moment in which its very atoms were tornapart.     Knof Jr. whooped ecstatically and then subsided warily, but no one waspaying attention to him. The men on the      Quest III's     bridge lookedquestions at each other, as the thought of help from outside flashedinto many minds at once. But Captain Llud said soberly, It must havecaught one of their own shots, reflected. Maybe its own, if it scoredtoo direct a hit.     He studied the data so far gathered. A few blurred pictures had beengot, which showed cylindrical space ships much like the      Quest III     ,except that they were rocket-propelled and of far lesser size. Theirsize was hard to ascertain, because you needed to know their distanceand speed—but detector-beam echoes gave the distance, and likewise, bythe Doppler method, the velocity of directly receding or approachingships. It was apparent that the enemy vessels were even smaller thanGwar Den had at first supposed—not large enough to hold even one man.Tiny, deadly hornets with a colossal sting.     Robot craft, no doubt, said Knof Llud, but a chill ran down his spineas it occurred to him that perhaps the attackers weren't of humanorigin. They had seen no recognizable life in the part of the galaxythey had explored, but one of the other      Quests     might have encounteredand been traced home by some unhuman race that was greedy and able toconquer.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a brief summary of the storyline in Appointment in Tomorrow?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the significance of Maizie's role in the story Appointment in Tomorrow? [SEP] <s>   Appointment in Tomorrow     BY FRITZ LEIBER     Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction July 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Is it possible to have a world without moral values?     Or does lack of morality become a moral value, also?      The first angry rays of the sun—which, startlingly enough, still rosein the east at 24 hour intervals—pierced the lacy tops of Atlanticcombers and touched thousands of sleeping Americans with unconsciousfear, because of their unpleasant similarity to the rays from World WarIII's atomic bombs.     They turned to blood the witch-circle of rusty steel skeletons aroundInferno in Manhattan. Without comment, they pointed a cosmic finger atthe tarnished brass plaque commemorating the martyrdom of the ThreePhysicists after the dropping of the Hell Bomb. They tenderly touchedthe rosy skin and strawberry bruises on the naked shoulders of agirl sleeping off a drunk on the furry and radiantly heated floor ofa nearby roof garden. They struck green magic from the glassy blotthat was Old Washington. Twelve hours before, they had revealed thingsas eerily beautiful, and as ravaged, in Asia and Russia. They pinkedthe white walls of the Colonial dwelling of Morton Opperly near theInstitute for Advanced Studies; upstairs they slanted impartiallyacross the Pharoahlike and open-eyed face of the elderly physicist andthe ugly, sleep-surly one of young Willard Farquar in the next room.And in nearby New Washington they made of the spire of the Thinkers'Foundation a blue and optimistic glory that outshone White House, Jr.     It was America approaching the end of the Twentieth Century. Americaof juke-box burlesque and your local radiation hospital. Americaof the mask-fad for women and Mystic Christianity. America of theoff-the-bosom dress and the New Blue Laws. America of the Endless Warand the loyalty detector. America of marvelous Maizie and the monthlyrocket to Mars. America of the Thinkers and (a few remembered) theInstitute. Knock on titanium, Whadya do for black-outs, Please,lover, don't think when I'm around, America, as combat-shocked andcrippled as the rest of the bomb-shattered planet.     Not one impudent photon of the sunlight penetrated the triple-paned,polarizing windows of Jorj Helmuth's bedroom in the Thinker'sFoundation, yet the clock in his brain awakened him to the minute,or almost. Switching off the Educational Sandman in the midst of thephrase, ... applying tensor calculus to the nucleus, he took adeep, even breath and cast his mind to the limits of the world andhis knowledge. It was a somewhat shadowy vision, but, he noted withimpartial approval, definitely less shadowy than yesterday morning.     Employing a rapid mental scanning technique, he next cleared his memorychains of false associations, including those acquired while asleep.These chores completed, he held his finger on a bedside button, whichrotated the polarizing window panes until the room slowly filled with amuted daylight. Then, still flat on his back, he turned his head untilhe could look at the remarkably beautiful blonde girl asleep beside him.  <doc-sep>   THE LONG REMEMBERED THUNDER     BY KEITH LAUMER     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of Tomorrow April 1963     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      He was as ancient as time—and as strange as     his own frightful battle against incredible odds!      I     In his room at the Elsby Commercial Hotel, Tremaine opened his luggageand took out a small tool kit, used a screwdriver to remove the bottomcover plate from the telephone. He inserted a tiny aluminum cylinder,crimped wires and replaced the cover. Then he dialed a long-distanceWashington number and waited half a minute for the connection.     Fred, Tremaine here. Put the buzzer on. A thin hum sounded on thewire as the scrambler went into operation.     Okay, can you read me all right? I'm set up in Elsby. Grammond's boysare supposed to keep me informed. Meantime, I'm not sitting in thisdamned room crouched over a dial. I'll be out and around for the restof the afternoon.     I want to see results, the thin voice came back over the filteredhum of the jamming device. You spent a week with Grammond—I can'twait another. I don't mind telling you certain quarters are pressingme.     Fred, when will you learn to sit on your news breaks until you've gotsome answers to go with the questions?     I'm an appointive official, Fred said sharply. But never mindthat. This fellow Margrave—General Margrave. Project Officer for thehyperwave program—he's been on my neck day and night. I can't say Iblame him. An unauthorized transmitter interfering with a Top Secretproject, progress slowing to a halt, and this Bureau—     Look, Fred. I was happy in the lab. Headaches, nightmares and all.Hyperwave is my baby, remember? You elected me to be a leg-man: now letme do it my way.     I felt a technical man might succeed where a trained investigatorcould be misled. And since it seems to be pinpointed in your homearea—     You don't have to justify yourself. Just don't hold out on me. Isometimes wonder if I've seen the complete files on this—     You've seen all the files! Now I want answers, not questions! I'mwarning you, Tremaine. Get that transmitter. I need someone to hang!  <doc-sep>The President's Secretary, a paunchy veteran of party caucuses, wasalso glad that it was the Thinkers who had created the machine, thoughhe trembled at the power that it gave them over the Administration.Still, you could do business with the Thinkers. And nobody (not eventhe Thinkers) could do business (that sort of business) with Maizie!     Before that great square face with its thousands of tiny metalfeatures, only Jorj Helmuth seemed at ease, busily entering on thetape the complex Questions of the Day that the high officials hadhanded him: logistics for the Endless War in Pakistan, optimum size fornext year's sugar-corn crop, current thought trends in average Sovietminds—profound questions, yet many of them phrased with surprisingsimplicity. For figures, technical jargon, and layman's language werealike to Maizie; there was no need to translate into mathematicalshorthand, as with the lesser brain-machines.     The click of the taper went on until the Secretary of State had twicenervously fired a cigaret with his ultrasonic lighter and twice quicklyput it away. No one spoke.     Jorj looked up at the Secretary of Space. Section Five, QuestionFour—whom would that come from?     The burly man frowned. That would be the physics boys, Opperly'sgroup. Is anything wrong?     Jorj did not answer. A bit later he quit taping and began to adjustcontrols, going up on the boom-chair to reach some of them. Eventuallyhe came down and touched a few more, then stood waiting.     From the great cube came a profound, steady purring. Involuntarily thesix officials backed off a bit. Somehow it was impossible for a man toget used to the sound of Maizie starting to think.  <doc-sep>Meanwhile the question tape, like a New Year's streamer tossed outa high window into the night, sped on its dark way along spinningrollers. Curling with an intricate aimlessness curiously like thatof such a streamer, it tantalized the silvery fingers of a thousandrelays, saucily evaded the glances of ten thousand electric eyes,impishly darted down a narrow black alleyway of memory banks, and,reaching the center of the cube, suddenly emerged into a small roomwhere a suave fat man in shorts sat drinking beer.     He flipped the tape over to him with practiced finger, eyeing it asa stockbroker might have studied a ticker tape. He read the firstquestion, closed his eyes and frowned for five seconds. Then with thestaccato self-confidence of a hack writer, he began to tape out theanswer.     For many minutes the only sounds were the rustle of the paper ribbonand the click of the taper, except for the seconds the fat man took toclose his eyes, or to drink or pour beer. Once, too, he lifted a phone,asked a concise question, waited half a minute, listened to an answer,then went back to the grind.     Until he came to Section Five, Question Four. That time he did histhinking with his eyes open.     The question was: Does Maizie stand for Maelzel?     He sat for a while slowly scratching his thigh. His loose, persuasivelips tightened, without closing, into the shape of a snarl.     Suddenly he began to tape again.     Maizie does not stand for Maelzel. Maizie stands for amazing,humorously given the form of a girl's name. Section Six, Answer One:The mid-term election viewcasts should be spaced as follows....     But his lips didn't lose the shape of a snarl.  <doc-sep>The Military Attache pulled at his lower lip. In that case, we can'ttry conclusions with these fellows until we have an indetectible driveof our own. I recommend a crash project. In the meantime—     I'll have my boys start in to crack this thing, the Chief of theConfidential Terrestrial Source Section spoke up. I'll fit out acouple of volunteers with plastic beaks—     No cloak and dagger work, gentlemen! Long range policy will beworked out by Deep-Think teams back at the Department. Our role willbe a holding action. Now I want suggestions for a comprehensive,well rounded and decisive course for meeting this threat. Anyrecommendation?     The Political Officer placed his fingertips together. What about astiff Note demanding an extra week's time?     No! No begging, the Economic Officer objected. I'd say a calm,dignified, aggressive withdrawal—as soon as possible.     We don't want to give them the idea we spook easily, the MilitaryAttache said. Let's delay the withdrawal—say, until tomorrow.     Early tomorrow, Magnan said. Or maybe later today.     Well, I see you're of a mind with me, Nitworth nodded. Our plan ofaction is clear, but it remains to be implemented. We have a populationof over fifteen million individuals to relocate. He eyed thePolitical Officer. I want five proposals for resettlement on my deskby oh-eight-hundred hours tomorrow. Nitworth rapped out instructions.Harried-looking staff members arose and hurried from the room. Magnaneased toward the door.     Where are you going, Magnan? Nitworth snapped.     Since you're so busy, I thought I'd just slip back down to Com Inq. Itwas a most interesting orientation lecture, Mr. Ambassador. Be sure tolet us know how it works out.     Kindly return to your chair, Nitworth said coldly. A number ofchores remain to be assigned. I think you, Magnan, need a little fieldexperience. I want you to get over to Roolit I and take a look at theseQornt personally.     Magnan's mouth opened and closed soundlessly.     Not afraid of a few Qornt, are you, Magnan?     Afraid? Good lord, no, ha ha. It's just that I'm afraid I may lose myhead and do something rash if I go.     Nonsense! A diplomat is immune to heroic impulses. Take Retief along.No dawdling, now! I want you on the way in two hours. Notify thetransport pool at once. Now get going!     Magnan nodded unhappily and went into the hall.     Oh, Retief, Nitworth said. Retief turned.     Try to restrain Mr. Magnan from any impulsive moves—in anydirection.      II     Retief and Magnan topped a ridge and looked down across a slopeof towering tree-shrubs and glossy violet-stemmed palms set amongflamboyant blossoms of yellow and red, reaching down to a strip ofwhite beach with the blue sea beyond.     A delightful vista, Magnan said, mopping at his face. A pity wecouldn't locate the Qornt. We'll go back now and report—     I'm pretty sure the settlement is off to the right, Retief said. Whydon't you head back for the boat, while I ease over and see what I canobserve.     Retief, we're engaged in a serious mission. This is not a time tothink of sightseeing.     I'd like to take a good look at what we're giving away.     See here, Retief! One might almost receive the impression that you'requestioning Corps policy!     One might, at that. The Qornt have made their play, but I think itmight be valuable to take a look at their cards before we fold. If I'mnot back at the boat in an hour, lift without me.     You expect me to make my way back alone?     It's directly down-slope— Retief broke off, listening. Magnanclutched at his arm.     There was a sound of crackling foliage. Twenty feet ahead, a leafybranch swung aside. An eight-foot biped stepped into view, long, thin,green-clad legs with back-bending knees moving in quick, bird-likesteps. A pair of immense black-lensed goggles covered staring eyes setamong bushy green hair above a great bone-white beak. The crest bobbedas the creature cocked its head, listening.     Magnan gulped audibly. The Qornt froze, head tilted, beak aimeddirectly at the spot where the Terrestrials stood in the deep shade ofa giant trunk.     I'll go for help, Magnan squeaked. He whirled and took three leapsinto the brush.     A second great green-clad figure rose up to block his way. He spun,darted to the left. The first Qornt pounced, grappled Magnan to itsnarrow chest. Magnan yelled, threshing and kicking, broke free,turned—and collided with the eight-foot alien, coming in fast from theright. All three went down in a tangle of limbs.     Retief jumped forward, hauled Magnan free, thrust him aside andstopped, right fist cocked. The two Qornt lay groaning feebly.     Nice piece of work, Mr. Magnan, Retief said. You nailed both ofthem.  <doc-sep>   SPACEMAN ON A SPREE     BY MACK REYNOLDS     Illustrated by Nodel     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of Tomorrow June 1963     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      What's more important—Man's conquest     of space, or one spaceman's life?      I     They gave him a gold watch. It was meant to be symbolical, of course.In the old tradition. It was in the way of an antique, being one of thetimepieces made generations past in the Alpine area of Eur-Asia. Itsquaintness lay in the fact that it was wound, not electronically bypower-radio, but by the actual physical movements of the bearer, a freeswinging rotor keeping the mainspring at a constant tension.     They also had a banquet for him, complete with speeches by suchbigwigs of the Department of Space Exploration as Academician LoftingGubelin and Doctor Hans Girard-Perregaux. There was also somebodyfrom the government who spoke, but he was one of those who werepseudo-elected and didn't know much about the field of space travelnor the significance of Seymour Pond's retirement. Si didn't bother toremember his name. He only wondered vaguely why the cloddy had turnedup at all.     In common with recipients of gold watches of a score of generationsbefore him, Si Pond would have preferred something a bit more tangiblein the way of reward, such as a few shares of Variable Basic to add tohis portfolio. But that, he supposed, was asking too much.     The fact of the matter was, Si knew that his retiring had set themback. They hadn't figured he had enough shares of Basic to see himthrough decently. Well, possibly he didn't, given their standards.But Space Pilot Seymour Pond didn't have their standards. He'd hadplenty of time to think it over. It was better to retire on a limitedcrediting, on a confoundedly limited crediting, than to take the two orthree more trips in hopes of attaining a higher standard.     He'd had plenty of time to figure it out, there alone in space on theMoon run, there on the Venus or Mars runs. There on the long, longhaul to the Jupiter satellites, fearfully checking the symptoms ofspace cafard, the madness compounded of claustrophobia, monotony,boredom and free fall. Plenty of time. Time to decide that a oneroom mini-auto-apartment, complete with an autochair and built-inautobar, and with one wall a teevee screen, was all he needed tofind contentment for a mighty long time. Possibly somebody likeDoc Girard-Perregaux might be horrified at the idea of living in amini-auto-apartment ... not realizing that to a pilot it was roomybeyond belief compared to the conning tower of a space craft.     No. Even as Si listened to their speeches, accepted the watch andmade a halting little talk of his own, he was grinning inwardly. Therewasn't anything they could do. He had them now. He had enough Basic tokeep him comfortably, by his standards, for the rest of his life. Hewas never going to subject himself to space cafard again. Just thinkingabout it, now, set the tic to going at the side of his mouth.     They could count down and blast off, for all he gave a damn.  <doc-sep>The grizzled general—there was also one who was gray—was thinkingthat this was a very odd link in the chain of command. Some shadowy andusually well-controlled memories from World War II faintly stirred hisire. Here he was giving orders to a being immeasurably more intelligentthan himself. And always orders of the Tell me how to kill that manrather than the Kill that man sort. The distinction bothered himobscurely. It relieved him to know that Maizie had built-in controlswhich made her always the servant of humanity, or of humanity'sright-minded leaders—even the Thinkers weren't certain which.     The gray general was thinking uneasily, and, like the President, at amore turbid level, of the resemblance between Papal infallibility andthe dictates of the machine. Suddenly his bony wrists began to tremble.He asked himself: Was this the Second Coming? Mightn't an incarnationbe in metal rather than flesh?     The austere Secretary of State was remembering what he'd taken suchpains to make everyone forget: his youthful flirtation at Lake Successwith Buddhism. Sitting before his      guru     , his teacher, feeling theOccidental's awe at the wisdom of the East, or its pretense, he hadfelt a little like this.     The burly Secretary of Space, who had come up through United Rockets,was thanking his stars that at any rate the professional scientistsweren't responsible for this job. Like the grizzled general, he'dalways felt suspicious of men who kept telling you how to do things,rather than doing them themselves. In World War III he'd had his fillof the professional physicists, with their eternal taint of a mistysort of radicalism and free-thinking. The Thinkers were better—moredisciplined, more human. They'd called their brain-machine Maizie,which helped take the curse off her. Somewhat.  <doc-sep>Jorj turned, smiling. And now, gentlemen, while we wait for Maizieto celebrate, there should be just enough time for us to watch thetakeoff of the Mars rocket. He switched on a giant television screen.The others made a quarter turn, and there before them glowed the richochres and blues of a New Mexico sunrise and, in the middle distance, asilvery mighty spindle.     Like the generals, the Secretary of Space suppressed a scowl. Herewas something that ought to be spang in the center of his officialterritory, and the Thinkers had locked him completely out of it. Thatrocket there—just an ordinary Earth satellite vehicle commandeeredfrom the Army, but equipped by the Thinkers with Maizie-designednuclear motors capable of the Mars journey and more. The firstspaceship—and the Secretary of Space was not in on it!     Still, he told himself, Maizie had decreed it that way. And whenhe remembered what the Thinkers had done for him in rescuing himfrom breakdown with their mental science, in rescuing the wholeAdministration from collapse he realized he had to be satisfied. Andthat was without taking into consideration the amazing additionalmental discoveries that the Thinkers were bringing down from Mars.     Lord, the President said to Jorj as if voicing the Secretary'sfeeling, I wish you people could bring a couple of those wise littledevils back with you this trip. Be a good thing for the country.     Jorj looked at him a bit coldly. It's quite unthinkable, he said.The telepathic abilities of the Martians make them extremelysensitive. The conflicts of ordinary Earth minds would impinge on thempsychotically, even fatally. As you know, the Thinkers were able tocontact them only because of our degree of learned mental poise anderrorless memory-chains. So for the present it must be our task aloneto glean from the Martians their astounding mental skills. Of course,some day in the future, when we have discovered how to armor the mindsof the Martians—     Sure, I know, the President said hastily. Shouldn't have mentionedit, Jorj.     Conversation ceased. They waited with growing tension for the greatviolet flames to bloom from the base of the silvery shaft.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the significance of Maizie's role in the story Appointment in Tomorrow?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the significance of the Thinkers in Appointment in Tomorrow? [SEP] <s>   Appointment in Tomorrow     BY FRITZ LEIBER     Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction July 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Is it possible to have a world without moral values?     Or does lack of morality become a moral value, also?      The first angry rays of the sun—which, startlingly enough, still rosein the east at 24 hour intervals—pierced the lacy tops of Atlanticcombers and touched thousands of sleeping Americans with unconsciousfear, because of their unpleasant similarity to the rays from World WarIII's atomic bombs.     They turned to blood the witch-circle of rusty steel skeletons aroundInferno in Manhattan. Without comment, they pointed a cosmic finger atthe tarnished brass plaque commemorating the martyrdom of the ThreePhysicists after the dropping of the Hell Bomb. They tenderly touchedthe rosy skin and strawberry bruises on the naked shoulders of agirl sleeping off a drunk on the furry and radiantly heated floor ofa nearby roof garden. They struck green magic from the glassy blotthat was Old Washington. Twelve hours before, they had revealed thingsas eerily beautiful, and as ravaged, in Asia and Russia. They pinkedthe white walls of the Colonial dwelling of Morton Opperly near theInstitute for Advanced Studies; upstairs they slanted impartiallyacross the Pharoahlike and open-eyed face of the elderly physicist andthe ugly, sleep-surly one of young Willard Farquar in the next room.And in nearby New Washington they made of the spire of the Thinkers'Foundation a blue and optimistic glory that outshone White House, Jr.     It was America approaching the end of the Twentieth Century. Americaof juke-box burlesque and your local radiation hospital. Americaof the mask-fad for women and Mystic Christianity. America of theoff-the-bosom dress and the New Blue Laws. America of the Endless Warand the loyalty detector. America of marvelous Maizie and the monthlyrocket to Mars. America of the Thinkers and (a few remembered) theInstitute. Knock on titanium, Whadya do for black-outs, Please,lover, don't think when I'm around, America, as combat-shocked andcrippled as the rest of the bomb-shattered planet.     Not one impudent photon of the sunlight penetrated the triple-paned,polarizing windows of Jorj Helmuth's bedroom in the Thinker'sFoundation, yet the clock in his brain awakened him to the minute,or almost. Switching off the Educational Sandman in the midst of thephrase, ... applying tensor calculus to the nucleus, he took adeep, even breath and cast his mind to the limits of the world andhis knowledge. It was a somewhat shadowy vision, but, he noted withimpartial approval, definitely less shadowy than yesterday morning.     Employing a rapid mental scanning technique, he next cleared his memorychains of false associations, including those acquired while asleep.These chores completed, he held his finger on a bedside button, whichrotated the polarizing window panes until the room slowly filled with amuted daylight. Then, still flat on his back, he turned his head untilhe could look at the remarkably beautiful blonde girl asleep beside him.  <doc-sep>Opperly looked up from the flowers. I think you have, he agreed.     But what are we to do? Farquar demanded. Surrender the world tocharlatans without a struggle?     Opperly mused for a while. I don't know what the world needs now.Everyone knows Newton as the great scientist. Few remember thathe spent half his life muddling with alchemy, looking for thephilosopher's stone. Which Newton did the world need then?     Now you are justifying the Thinkers!     No, I leave that to history.     And history consists of the actions of men, Farquar concluded. Iintend to act. The Thinkers are vulnerable, their power fantasticallyprecarious. What's it based on? A few lucky guesses. Faith-healing.Some science hocus-pocus, on the level of those juke-box burlesque actsbetween the strips. Dubious mental comfort given to a few nerve-tornneurotics in the Inner Cabinet—and their wives. The fact that theThinkers' clever stage-managing won the President a doubtful election.The erroneous belief that the Soviets pulled out of Iraq and Iranbecause of the Thinkers' Mind Bomb threat. A brain-machine that's justa cover for Jan Tregarron's guesswork. Oh, yes, and that hogwash of'Martian wisdom.' All of it mere bluff! A few pushes at the right timesand points are all that are needed—and the Thinkers know it! I'll betthey're terrified already, and will be more so when they find thatwe're gunning for them. Eventually they'll be making overtures to us,turning to us for help. You wait and see.     I am thinking again of Hitler, Opperly interposed quietly. On hisfirst half dozen big steps, he had nothing but bluff. His generalswere against him. They knew they were in a cardboard fort. Yet he wonevery battle, until the last. Moreover, he pressed on, cutting Farquarshort, the power of the Thinkers isn't based on what they've got, buton what the world hasn't got—peace, honor, a good conscience....     The front-door knocker clanked. Farquar answered it. A skinny old manwith a radiation scar twisting across his temple handed him a tinycylinder. Radiogram for you, Willard. He grinned across the hall atOpperly. When are you going to get a phone put in, Mr. Opperly?     The physicist waved to him. Next year, perhaps, Mr. Berry.     The old man snorted with good-humored incredulity and trudged off.     What did I tell you about the Thinkers making overtures? Farquarchortled suddenly. It's come sooner than I expected. Look at this.     He held out the radiogram, but the older man didn't take it. Instead heasked, Who's it from? Tregarron?     No, from Helmuth. There's a lot of sugar corn about man's future indeep space, but the real reason is clear. They know that they're goingto have to produce an actual nuclear rocket pretty soon, and for thatthey'll need our help.     An invitation?     Farquar nodded. For this afternoon. He noticed Opperly's anxiousthough distant frown. What's the matter? he asked. Are you botheredabout my going? Are you thinking it might be a trap—that after theMaelzel question they may figure I'm better rubbed out?     The older man shook his head. I'm not afraid for your life, Willard.That's yours to risk as you choose. No, I'm worried about other thingsthey might do to you.     What do you mean? Farquar asked.  <doc-sep>Jorj turned, smiling. And now, gentlemen, while we wait for Maizieto celebrate, there should be just enough time for us to watch thetakeoff of the Mars rocket. He switched on a giant television screen.The others made a quarter turn, and there before them glowed the richochres and blues of a New Mexico sunrise and, in the middle distance, asilvery mighty spindle.     Like the generals, the Secretary of Space suppressed a scowl. Herewas something that ought to be spang in the center of his officialterritory, and the Thinkers had locked him completely out of it. Thatrocket there—just an ordinary Earth satellite vehicle commandeeredfrom the Army, but equipped by the Thinkers with Maizie-designednuclear motors capable of the Mars journey and more. The firstspaceship—and the Secretary of Space was not in on it!     Still, he told himself, Maizie had decreed it that way. And whenhe remembered what the Thinkers had done for him in rescuing himfrom breakdown with their mental science, in rescuing the wholeAdministration from collapse he realized he had to be satisfied. Andthat was without taking into consideration the amazing additionalmental discoveries that the Thinkers were bringing down from Mars.     Lord, the President said to Jorj as if voicing the Secretary'sfeeling, I wish you people could bring a couple of those wise littledevils back with you this trip. Be a good thing for the country.     Jorj looked at him a bit coldly. It's quite unthinkable, he said.The telepathic abilities of the Martians make them extremelysensitive. The conflicts of ordinary Earth minds would impinge on thempsychotically, even fatally. As you know, the Thinkers were able tocontact them only because of our degree of learned mental poise anderrorless memory-chains. So for the present it must be our task aloneto glean from the Martians their astounding mental skills. Of course,some day in the future, when we have discovered how to armor the mindsof the Martians—     Sure, I know, the President said hastily. Shouldn't have mentionedit, Jorj.     Conversation ceased. They waited with growing tension for the greatviolet flames to bloom from the base of the silvery shaft.  <doc-sep>   THE LONG REMEMBERED THUNDER     BY KEITH LAUMER     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of Tomorrow April 1963     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      He was as ancient as time—and as strange as     his own frightful battle against incredible odds!      I     In his room at the Elsby Commercial Hotel, Tremaine opened his luggageand took out a small tool kit, used a screwdriver to remove the bottomcover plate from the telephone. He inserted a tiny aluminum cylinder,crimped wires and replaced the cover. Then he dialed a long-distanceWashington number and waited half a minute for the connection.     Fred, Tremaine here. Put the buzzer on. A thin hum sounded on thewire as the scrambler went into operation.     Okay, can you read me all right? I'm set up in Elsby. Grammond's boysare supposed to keep me informed. Meantime, I'm not sitting in thisdamned room crouched over a dial. I'll be out and around for the restof the afternoon.     I want to see results, the thin voice came back over the filteredhum of the jamming device. You spent a week with Grammond—I can'twait another. I don't mind telling you certain quarters are pressingme.     Fred, when will you learn to sit on your news breaks until you've gotsome answers to go with the questions?     I'm an appointive official, Fred said sharply. But never mindthat. This fellow Margrave—General Margrave. Project Officer for thehyperwave program—he's been on my neck day and night. I can't say Iblame him. An unauthorized transmitter interfering with a Top Secretproject, progress slowing to a halt, and this Bureau—     Look, Fred. I was happy in the lab. Headaches, nightmares and all.Hyperwave is my baby, remember? You elected me to be a leg-man: now letme do it my way.     I felt a technical man might succeed where a trained investigatorcould be misled. And since it seems to be pinpointed in your homearea—     You don't have to justify yourself. Just don't hold out on me. Isometimes wonder if I've seen the complete files on this—     You've seen all the files! Now I want answers, not questions! I'mwarning you, Tremaine. Get that transmitter. I need someone to hang!  <doc-sep>Remembering last night, he felt a pang of exasperation, which heinstantly quelled by taking his mind to a higher and dispassionatelevel from which he could look down on the girl and even himself asquaint, clumsy animals. Still, he grumbled silently, Caddy might havehad enough consideration to clear out before he awoke. He wonderedif he shouldn't have used his hypnotic control of the girl to smooththeir relationship last night, and for a moment the word that wouldsend her into deep trance trembled on the tip of his tongue. But no,that special power of his over her was reserved for far more importantpurposes.     Pumping dynamic tension into his 20-year-old muscles and confidenceinto his 60-year-old mind, the 40-year-old Thinker rose from bed.No covers had to be thrown off; the nuclear heating unit made themunnecessary. He stepped into his clothing—the severe tunic, tights andsockassins of the modern business man. Next he glanced at the messagetape beside his phone, washed down with ginger ale a vita-amino-enzymetablet, and walked to the window. There, gazing along the rows of newlyplanted mutant oaks lining Decontamination Avenue, his smooth facebroke into a smile.     It had come to him, the next big move in the intricate game makingup his life—and mankind's. Come to him during sleep, as so many ofhis best decisions did, because he regularly employed the time-savingtechnique of somno-thought, which could function at the same time assomno-learning.     He set his who?-where? robot for Rocket Physicist and Genius Class.While it worked, he dictated to his steno-robot the following briefmessage:     Dear Fellow Scientist:     A project is contemplated that will have a crucial bearing on man'sfuture in deep space. Ample non-military Government funds areavailable. There was a time when professional men scoffed at theThinkers. Then there was a time when the Thinkers perforce neglectedthe professional men. Now both times are past. May they never return!I would like to consult you this afternoon, three o'clock sharp,Thinkers' Foundation I.     Jorj Helmuth     Meanwhile the who?-where? had tossed out a dozen cards. He glancedthrough them, hesitated at the name Willard Farquar, looked at thesleeping girl, then quickly tossed them all into the addresso-robot andplugged in the steno-robot.     The buzz-light blinked green and he switched the phone to audio.     The President is waiting to see Maizie, sir, a clear feminine voiceannounced. He has the general staff with him.     Martian peace to him, Jorj Helmuth said. Tell him I'll be down in afew minutes.  <doc-sep>The President's Secretary, a paunchy veteran of party caucuses, wasalso glad that it was the Thinkers who had created the machine, thoughhe trembled at the power that it gave them over the Administration.Still, you could do business with the Thinkers. And nobody (not eventhe Thinkers) could do business (that sort of business) with Maizie!     Before that great square face with its thousands of tiny metalfeatures, only Jorj Helmuth seemed at ease, busily entering on thetape the complex Questions of the Day that the high officials hadhanded him: logistics for the Endless War in Pakistan, optimum size fornext year's sugar-corn crop, current thought trends in average Sovietminds—profound questions, yet many of them phrased with surprisingsimplicity. For figures, technical jargon, and layman's language werealike to Maizie; there was no need to translate into mathematicalshorthand, as with the lesser brain-machines.     The click of the taper went on until the Secretary of State had twicenervously fired a cigaret with his ultrasonic lighter and twice quicklyput it away. No one spoke.     Jorj looked up at the Secretary of Space. Section Five, QuestionFour—whom would that come from?     The burly man frowned. That would be the physics boys, Opperly'sgroup. Is anything wrong?     Jorj did not answer. A bit later he quit taping and began to adjustcontrols, going up on the boom-chair to reach some of them. Eventuallyhe came down and touched a few more, then stood waiting.     From the great cube came a profound, steady purring. Involuntarily thesix officials backed off a bit. Somehow it was impossible for a man toget used to the sound of Maizie starting to think.  <doc-sep>   SPACEMAN ON A SPREE     BY MACK REYNOLDS     Illustrated by Nodel     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of Tomorrow June 1963     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      What's more important—Man's conquest     of space, or one spaceman's life?      I     They gave him a gold watch. It was meant to be symbolical, of course.In the old tradition. It was in the way of an antique, being one of thetimepieces made generations past in the Alpine area of Eur-Asia. Itsquaintness lay in the fact that it was wound, not electronically bypower-radio, but by the actual physical movements of the bearer, a freeswinging rotor keeping the mainspring at a constant tension.     They also had a banquet for him, complete with speeches by suchbigwigs of the Department of Space Exploration as Academician LoftingGubelin and Doctor Hans Girard-Perregaux. There was also somebodyfrom the government who spoke, but he was one of those who werepseudo-elected and didn't know much about the field of space travelnor the significance of Seymour Pond's retirement. Si didn't bother toremember his name. He only wondered vaguely why the cloddy had turnedup at all.     In common with recipients of gold watches of a score of generationsbefore him, Si Pond would have preferred something a bit more tangiblein the way of reward, such as a few shares of Variable Basic to add tohis portfolio. But that, he supposed, was asking too much.     The fact of the matter was, Si knew that his retiring had set themback. They hadn't figured he had enough shares of Basic to see himthrough decently. Well, possibly he didn't, given their standards.But Space Pilot Seymour Pond didn't have their standards. He'd hadplenty of time to think it over. It was better to retire on a limitedcrediting, on a confoundedly limited crediting, than to take the two orthree more trips in hopes of attaining a higher standard.     He'd had plenty of time to figure it out, there alone in space on theMoon run, there on the Venus or Mars runs. There on the long, longhaul to the Jupiter satellites, fearfully checking the symptoms ofspace cafard, the madness compounded of claustrophobia, monotony,boredom and free fall. Plenty of time. Time to decide that a oneroom mini-auto-apartment, complete with an autochair and built-inautobar, and with one wall a teevee screen, was all he needed tofind contentment for a mighty long time. Possibly somebody likeDoc Girard-Perregaux might be horrified at the idea of living in amini-auto-apartment ... not realizing that to a pilot it was roomybeyond belief compared to the conning tower of a space craft.     No. Even as Si listened to their speeches, accepted the watch andmade a halting little talk of his own, he was grinning inwardly. Therewasn't anything they could do. He had them now. He had enough Basic tokeep him comfortably, by his standards, for the rest of his life. Hewas never going to subject himself to space cafard again. Just thinkingabout it, now, set the tic to going at the side of his mouth.     They could count down and blast off, for all he gave a damn.  <doc-sep>Opperly looked at him with a gentle appraisal. You're a strong andvital man, Willard, with a strong man's prides and desires. His voicetrailed off for a bit. Then, Excuse me, Willard, but wasn't there agirl once? A Miss Arkady?     Farquar's ungainly figure froze. He nodded curtly, face averted.     And didn't she go off with a Thinker?     If girls find me ugly, that's their business, Farquar said harshly,still not looking at Opperly. What's that got to do with thisinvitation?     Opperly didn't answer the question. His eyes got more distant. Finallyhe said, In my day we had it a lot easier. A scientist was anacademician, cushioned by tradition.     Willard snorted. Science had already entered the era of the policeinspectors, with laboratory directors and political appointees stiflingenterprise.     Perhaps, Opperly agreed. Still, the scientist lived the safe,restricted, highly respectable life of a university man. He wasn'texposed to the temptations of the world.     Farquar turned on him. Are you implying that the Thinkers will somehowbe able to buy me off?     Not exactly.     You think I'll be persuaded to change my aims? Farquar demandedangrily.     Opperly shrugged his helplessness. No, I don't think you'll changeyour aims.     Clouds encroaching from the west blotted the parallelogram of sunlightbetween the two men.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the significance of the Thinkers in Appointment in Tomorrow?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How does Farquar impact the plot in Appointment in Tomorrow? [SEP] <s>   Appointment in Tomorrow     BY FRITZ LEIBER     Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction July 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Is it possible to have a world without moral values?     Or does lack of morality become a moral value, also?      The first angry rays of the sun—which, startlingly enough, still rosein the east at 24 hour intervals—pierced the lacy tops of Atlanticcombers and touched thousands of sleeping Americans with unconsciousfear, because of their unpleasant similarity to the rays from World WarIII's atomic bombs.     They turned to blood the witch-circle of rusty steel skeletons aroundInferno in Manhattan. Without comment, they pointed a cosmic finger atthe tarnished brass plaque commemorating the martyrdom of the ThreePhysicists after the dropping of the Hell Bomb. They tenderly touchedthe rosy skin and strawberry bruises on the naked shoulders of agirl sleeping off a drunk on the furry and radiantly heated floor ofa nearby roof garden. They struck green magic from the glassy blotthat was Old Washington. Twelve hours before, they had revealed thingsas eerily beautiful, and as ravaged, in Asia and Russia. They pinkedthe white walls of the Colonial dwelling of Morton Opperly near theInstitute for Advanced Studies; upstairs they slanted impartiallyacross the Pharoahlike and open-eyed face of the elderly physicist andthe ugly, sleep-surly one of young Willard Farquar in the next room.And in nearby New Washington they made of the spire of the Thinkers'Foundation a blue and optimistic glory that outshone White House, Jr.     It was America approaching the end of the Twentieth Century. Americaof juke-box burlesque and your local radiation hospital. Americaof the mask-fad for women and Mystic Christianity. America of theoff-the-bosom dress and the New Blue Laws. America of the Endless Warand the loyalty detector. America of marvelous Maizie and the monthlyrocket to Mars. America of the Thinkers and (a few remembered) theInstitute. Knock on titanium, Whadya do for black-outs, Please,lover, don't think when I'm around, America, as combat-shocked andcrippled as the rest of the bomb-shattered planet.     Not one impudent photon of the sunlight penetrated the triple-paned,polarizing windows of Jorj Helmuth's bedroom in the Thinker'sFoundation, yet the clock in his brain awakened him to the minute,or almost. Switching off the Educational Sandman in the midst of thephrase, ... applying tensor calculus to the nucleus, he took adeep, even breath and cast his mind to the limits of the world andhis knowledge. It was a somewhat shadowy vision, but, he noted withimpartial approval, definitely less shadowy than yesterday morning.     Employing a rapid mental scanning technique, he next cleared his memorychains of false associations, including those acquired while asleep.These chores completed, he held his finger on a bedside button, whichrotated the polarizing window panes until the room slowly filled with amuted daylight. Then, still flat on his back, he turned his head untilhe could look at the remarkably beautiful blonde girl asleep beside him.  <doc-sep>Opperly looked at him with a gentle appraisal. You're a strong andvital man, Willard, with a strong man's prides and desires. His voicetrailed off for a bit. Then, Excuse me, Willard, but wasn't there agirl once? A Miss Arkady?     Farquar's ungainly figure froze. He nodded curtly, face averted.     And didn't she go off with a Thinker?     If girls find me ugly, that's their business, Farquar said harshly,still not looking at Opperly. What's that got to do with thisinvitation?     Opperly didn't answer the question. His eyes got more distant. Finallyhe said, In my day we had it a lot easier. A scientist was anacademician, cushioned by tradition.     Willard snorted. Science had already entered the era of the policeinspectors, with laboratory directors and political appointees stiflingenterprise.     Perhaps, Opperly agreed. Still, the scientist lived the safe,restricted, highly respectable life of a university man. He wasn'texposed to the temptations of the world.     Farquar turned on him. Are you implying that the Thinkers will somehowbe able to buy me off?     Not exactly.     You think I'll be persuaded to change my aims? Farquar demandedangrily.     Opperly shrugged his helplessness. No, I don't think you'll changeyour aims.     Clouds encroaching from the west blotted the parallelogram of sunlightbetween the two men.  <doc-sep>Opperly looked up from the flowers. I think you have, he agreed.     But what are we to do? Farquar demanded. Surrender the world tocharlatans without a struggle?     Opperly mused for a while. I don't know what the world needs now.Everyone knows Newton as the great scientist. Few remember thathe spent half his life muddling with alchemy, looking for thephilosopher's stone. Which Newton did the world need then?     Now you are justifying the Thinkers!     No, I leave that to history.     And history consists of the actions of men, Farquar concluded. Iintend to act. The Thinkers are vulnerable, their power fantasticallyprecarious. What's it based on? A few lucky guesses. Faith-healing.Some science hocus-pocus, on the level of those juke-box burlesque actsbetween the strips. Dubious mental comfort given to a few nerve-tornneurotics in the Inner Cabinet—and their wives. The fact that theThinkers' clever stage-managing won the President a doubtful election.The erroneous belief that the Soviets pulled out of Iraq and Iranbecause of the Thinkers' Mind Bomb threat. A brain-machine that's justa cover for Jan Tregarron's guesswork. Oh, yes, and that hogwash of'Martian wisdom.' All of it mere bluff! A few pushes at the right timesand points are all that are needed—and the Thinkers know it! I'll betthey're terrified already, and will be more so when they find thatwe're gunning for them. Eventually they'll be making overtures to us,turning to us for help. You wait and see.     I am thinking again of Hitler, Opperly interposed quietly. On hisfirst half dozen big steps, he had nothing but bluff. His generalswere against him. They knew they were in a cardboard fort. Yet he wonevery battle, until the last. Moreover, he pressed on, cutting Farquarshort, the power of the Thinkers isn't based on what they've got, buton what the world hasn't got—peace, honor, a good conscience....     The front-door knocker clanked. Farquar answered it. A skinny old manwith a radiation scar twisting across his temple handed him a tinycylinder. Radiogram for you, Willard. He grinned across the hall atOpperly. When are you going to get a phone put in, Mr. Opperly?     The physicist waved to him. Next year, perhaps, Mr. Berry.     The old man snorted with good-humored incredulity and trudged off.     What did I tell you about the Thinkers making overtures? Farquarchortled suddenly. It's come sooner than I expected. Look at this.     He held out the radiogram, but the older man didn't take it. Instead heasked, Who's it from? Tregarron?     No, from Helmuth. There's a lot of sugar corn about man's future indeep space, but the real reason is clear. They know that they're goingto have to produce an actual nuclear rocket pretty soon, and for thatthey'll need our help.     An invitation?     Farquar nodded. For this afternoon. He noticed Opperly's anxiousthough distant frown. What's the matter? he asked. Are you botheredabout my going? Are you thinking it might be a trap—that after theMaelzel question they may figure I'm better rubbed out?     The older man shook his head. I'm not afraid for your life, Willard.That's yours to risk as you choose. No, I'm worried about other thingsthey might do to you.     What do you mean? Farquar asked.  <doc-sep>Opperly continued his inspection of the flowers' bells. All the morereason not to poke sticks through the bars at the lions and tigersstrolling outside. No, Willard, I'm not counseling appeasement. Butconsider the age in which we live. It wants magicians. His voice grewespecially tranquil. A scientist tells people the truth. When timesare good—that is, when the truth offers no threat—people don't mind.But when times are very, very bad.... A shadow darkened his eyes.Well, we all know what happened to— And he mentioned three namesthat had been household words in the middle of the century. Theywere the names on the brass plaque dedicated to the martyred threephysicists.     He went on, A magician, on the other hand, tells people what theywish were true—that perpetual motion works, that cancer can be curedby colored lights, that a psychosis is no worse than a head cold, thatthey'll live forever. In good times magicians are laughed at. They're aluxury of the spoiled wealthy few. But in bad times people sell theirsouls for magic cures, and buy perpetual motion machines to power theirwar rockets.     Farquar clenched his fist. All the more reason to keep chipping awayat the Thinkers. Are we supposed to beg off from a job because it'sdifficult and dangerous?     Opperly shook his head. We're to keep clear of the infection ofviolence. In my day, Willard, I was one of the Frightened Men. Later Iwas one of the Angry Men and then one of the Minds of Despair. Now I'mconvinced that all my reactions were futile.     Exactly! Farquar agreed harshly. You reacted. You didn't act. Ifyou men who discovered atomic energy had only formed a secret league,if you'd only had the foresight and the guts to use your tremendousbargaining position to demand the power to shape mankind's future....     By the time you were born, Willard, Opperly interrupted dreamily,Hitler was merely a name in the history books. We scientists weren'tthe stuff out of which cloak-and-dagger men are made. Can you imagineOppenheimer wearing a mask or Einstein sneaking into the Old WhiteHouse with a bomb in his briefcase? He smiled. Besides, that's notthe way power is seized. New ideas aren't useful to the man bargainingfor power—only established facts or lies are.     Just the same, it would have been a good thing if you'd had a littleviolence in you.     No, Opperly said.     I've got violence in me, Farquar announced, shoving himself to hisfeet.  <doc-sep>   THE LONG REMEMBERED THUNDER     BY KEITH LAUMER     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of Tomorrow April 1963     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      He was as ancient as time—and as strange as     his own frightful battle against incredible odds!      I     In his room at the Elsby Commercial Hotel, Tremaine opened his luggageand took out a small tool kit, used a screwdriver to remove the bottomcover plate from the telephone. He inserted a tiny aluminum cylinder,crimped wires and replaced the cover. Then he dialed a long-distanceWashington number and waited half a minute for the connection.     Fred, Tremaine here. Put the buzzer on. A thin hum sounded on thewire as the scrambler went into operation.     Okay, can you read me all right? I'm set up in Elsby. Grammond's boysare supposed to keep me informed. Meantime, I'm not sitting in thisdamned room crouched over a dial. I'll be out and around for the restof the afternoon.     I want to see results, the thin voice came back over the filteredhum of the jamming device. You spent a week with Grammond—I can'twait another. I don't mind telling you certain quarters are pressingme.     Fred, when will you learn to sit on your news breaks until you've gotsome answers to go with the questions?     I'm an appointive official, Fred said sharply. But never mindthat. This fellow Margrave—General Margrave. Project Officer for thehyperwave program—he's been on my neck day and night. I can't say Iblame him. An unauthorized transmitter interfering with a Top Secretproject, progress slowing to a halt, and this Bureau—     Look, Fred. I was happy in the lab. Headaches, nightmares and all.Hyperwave is my baby, remember? You elected me to be a leg-man: now letme do it my way.     I felt a technical man might succeed where a trained investigatorcould be misled. And since it seems to be pinpointed in your homearea—     You don't have to justify yourself. Just don't hold out on me. Isometimes wonder if I've seen the complete files on this—     You've seen all the files! Now I want answers, not questions! I'mwarning you, Tremaine. Get that transmitter. I need someone to hang!  <doc-sep>Sunlight striking through French windows spotlighted a ballet of dustmotes untroubled by air-conditioning. Morton Opperly's living room waswell-kept but worn and quite behind the times. Instead of reading tapesthere were books; instead of steno-robots, pen and ink; while in placeof a four by six TV screen, a Picasso hung on the wall. Only Opperlyknew that the painting was still faintly radioactive, that it had beenriskily so when he'd smuggled it out of his bomb-singed apartment inNew York City.     The two physicists fronted each other across a coffee table. The faceof the elder was cadaverous, large-eyed, and tender—fined down bya long life of abstract thought. That of the younger was forceful,sensuous, bulky as his body, and exceptionally ugly. He looked ratherlike a bear.     Opperly was saying, So when he asked who was responsible for theMaelzel question, I said I didn't remember. He smiled. They stillallow me my absent-mindedness, since it nourishes their contempt.Almost my sole remaining privilege. The smile faded. Why do you keepon teasing the zoo animals, Willard? he asked without rancor. I'vemaintained many times that we shouldn't truckle to them by yieldingto their demand that we ask Maizie questions. You and the rest haveoverruled me. But then to use those questions to convey veiled insultsisn't reasonable. Apparently the Secretary of Space was bothered enoughabout this last one to pay me a 'copter call within twenty minutes ofthis morning's meeting at the Foundation. Why do you do it, Willard?     The features of the other convulsed unpleasantly. Because theThinkers are charlatans who must be exposed, he rapped out. We knowtheir Maizie is no more than a tealeaf-reading fake. We've traced theirMars rockets and found they go nowhere. We know their Martian mentalscience is bunk.     But we've already exposed the Thinkers very thoroughly, Opperlyinterposed quietly. You know the good it did.     Farquar hunched his Japanese-wrestler shoulders. Then it's got to bedone until it takes.     Opperly studied the bowl of mutated flowers by the coffee pot. I thinkyou just want to tease the animals, for some personal reason of whichyou probably aren't aware.     Farquar scowled. We're the ones in the cages.  <doc-sep>Jorj Helmuth snipped the emerging answer tape into sections and handedeach to the appropriate man. Most of them carefully tucked theirs awaywith little more than a glance, but the Secretary of Space puzzled overhis.     Who the devil would Maelzel be? he asked.     A remote look came into the eyes of the Secretary of State. EdgarAllen Poe, he said frowningly, with eyes half-closed.     The grizzled general snapped his fingers. Sure! Maelzel's Chessplayer. Read it when I was a kid. About an automaton that was supposedto play chess. Poe proved it hid a man inside it.     The Secretary of Space frowned. Now what's the point in a foolquestion like that?     You said it came from Opperly's group? Jorj asked sharply.     The Secretary of Space nodded. The others looked at the two menpuzzledly.     Who would that be? Jorj pressed. The group, I mean.     The Secretary of Space shrugged. Oh, the usual little bunch over atthe Institute. Hindeman, Gregory, Opperly himself. Oh, yes, and youngFarquar.     Sounds like Opperly's getting senile, Jorj commented coldly. I'dinvestigate.     The Secretary of Space nodded. He suddenly looked tough. I will. Rightaway.  <doc-sep>There are tensions in this room, my sister announced as she slouchedin, not quite awake yet, and hatred. I could feel them all the wayupstairs. And today I'm working on the Sleepsweet Mattress copy, so Imust feel absolutely tranquil. Everyone will think beautiful thoughts,please.     She sat down just as a glass of orange juice was arriving at herplace; Danny apparently didn't know she'd come in already. The glassbumped into the back of her neck, tilted and poured its contents overher shoulder and down her very considerable decolletage. Being a mereprimitive, I couldn't help laughing.     Danny, you fumbler! she screamed.     Danny erupted from the kitchen. How many times have I asked all of younot to sit down until I've got everything on the table? Always a lot ofinterfering busybodies getting in the way.     I don't see why you have to set the table at all, she retorted. Arobot could do it better and faster than you. Even Kev could. Sheturned quickly toward me. Oh, I am sorry, Kevin.     I didn't say anything; I was too busy pressing my hands down on theback of the chair to make my knuckles turn white.     Sylvia's face turned even whiter. Father, stop him—      stop     him! He'shating again! I can't stand it!     Father looked at me, then at her. I don't think he can help it,Sylvia.     I grinned. That's right—I'm just a poor atavism with no control overmyself a-tall.     Finally my mother came in from the kitchen; she was an old-fashionedwoman and didn't hold with robocooks. One quick glance at me gave herthe complete details, even though I quickly protested, It's illegal toprobe anyone without permission.     I used to probe you to find out when you needed your diapers changed,she said tartly, and I'll probe you now. You should watch yourself,Sylvia—poor Kevin isn't responsible.     She didn't need to probe to get the blast of naked emotion that spurtedout from me. My sister screamed and even Father looked uncomfortable.Danny stomped back into the kitchen, muttering to himself.     Mother's lips tightened. Sylvia, go upstairs and change your dress.Kevin, do I have to make an appointment for you at the clinic again?A psychiatrist never diagnosed members of his own family—that is, notofficially; they couldn't help offering thumbnail diagnoses any morethan they could help having thumbnails.     No use, I said, deciding it was safe to drop into my chair. Who canadjust me to an environment to which I'm fundamentally unsuited?     Maybe there is something physically wrong with him, Amy, my fathersuggested hopefully. Maybe you should make an appointment for him atthe cure-all?     Mother shook her neatly coiffed head. He's been to it dozens of timesand he always checks out in splendid shape. None of us can spare thetime to go with him again, just on an off-chance, and he could hardlybe allowed to make such a long trip all by himself. Pity there isn't amachine in every community, but, then, we don't really need them.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How does Farquar impact the plot in Appointment in Tomorrow?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"In what ways do Opperly and Farquar differ and resemble each other in Appointment in Tomorrow? [SEP] <s>Opperly looked at him with a gentle appraisal. You're a strong andvital man, Willard, with a strong man's prides and desires. His voicetrailed off for a bit. Then, Excuse me, Willard, but wasn't there agirl once? A Miss Arkady?     Farquar's ungainly figure froze. He nodded curtly, face averted.     And didn't she go off with a Thinker?     If girls find me ugly, that's their business, Farquar said harshly,still not looking at Opperly. What's that got to do with thisinvitation?     Opperly didn't answer the question. His eyes got more distant. Finallyhe said, In my day we had it a lot easier. A scientist was anacademician, cushioned by tradition.     Willard snorted. Science had already entered the era of the policeinspectors, with laboratory directors and political appointees stiflingenterprise.     Perhaps, Opperly agreed. Still, the scientist lived the safe,restricted, highly respectable life of a university man. He wasn'texposed to the temptations of the world.     Farquar turned on him. Are you implying that the Thinkers will somehowbe able to buy me off?     Not exactly.     You think I'll be persuaded to change my aims? Farquar demandedangrily.     Opperly shrugged his helplessness. No, I don't think you'll changeyour aims.     Clouds encroaching from the west blotted the parallelogram of sunlightbetween the two men.  <doc-sep>Opperly looked up from the flowers. I think you have, he agreed.     But what are we to do? Farquar demanded. Surrender the world tocharlatans without a struggle?     Opperly mused for a while. I don't know what the world needs now.Everyone knows Newton as the great scientist. Few remember thathe spent half his life muddling with alchemy, looking for thephilosopher's stone. Which Newton did the world need then?     Now you are justifying the Thinkers!     No, I leave that to history.     And history consists of the actions of men, Farquar concluded. Iintend to act. The Thinkers are vulnerable, their power fantasticallyprecarious. What's it based on? A few lucky guesses. Faith-healing.Some science hocus-pocus, on the level of those juke-box burlesque actsbetween the strips. Dubious mental comfort given to a few nerve-tornneurotics in the Inner Cabinet—and their wives. The fact that theThinkers' clever stage-managing won the President a doubtful election.The erroneous belief that the Soviets pulled out of Iraq and Iranbecause of the Thinkers' Mind Bomb threat. A brain-machine that's justa cover for Jan Tregarron's guesswork. Oh, yes, and that hogwash of'Martian wisdom.' All of it mere bluff! A few pushes at the right timesand points are all that are needed—and the Thinkers know it! I'll betthey're terrified already, and will be more so when they find thatwe're gunning for them. Eventually they'll be making overtures to us,turning to us for help. You wait and see.     I am thinking again of Hitler, Opperly interposed quietly. On hisfirst half dozen big steps, he had nothing but bluff. His generalswere against him. They knew they were in a cardboard fort. Yet he wonevery battle, until the last. Moreover, he pressed on, cutting Farquarshort, the power of the Thinkers isn't based on what they've got, buton what the world hasn't got—peace, honor, a good conscience....     The front-door knocker clanked. Farquar answered it. A skinny old manwith a radiation scar twisting across his temple handed him a tinycylinder. Radiogram for you, Willard. He grinned across the hall atOpperly. When are you going to get a phone put in, Mr. Opperly?     The physicist waved to him. Next year, perhaps, Mr. Berry.     The old man snorted with good-humored incredulity and trudged off.     What did I tell you about the Thinkers making overtures? Farquarchortled suddenly. It's come sooner than I expected. Look at this.     He held out the radiogram, but the older man didn't take it. Instead heasked, Who's it from? Tregarron?     No, from Helmuth. There's a lot of sugar corn about man's future indeep space, but the real reason is clear. They know that they're goingto have to produce an actual nuclear rocket pretty soon, and for thatthey'll need our help.     An invitation?     Farquar nodded. For this afternoon. He noticed Opperly's anxiousthough distant frown. What's the matter? he asked. Are you botheredabout my going? Are you thinking it might be a trap—that after theMaelzel question they may figure I'm better rubbed out?     The older man shook his head. I'm not afraid for your life, Willard.That's yours to risk as you choose. No, I'm worried about other thingsthey might do to you.     What do you mean? Farquar asked.  <doc-sep>Opperly continued his inspection of the flowers' bells. All the morereason not to poke sticks through the bars at the lions and tigersstrolling outside. No, Willard, I'm not counseling appeasement. Butconsider the age in which we live. It wants magicians. His voice grewespecially tranquil. A scientist tells people the truth. When timesare good—that is, when the truth offers no threat—people don't mind.But when times are very, very bad.... A shadow darkened his eyes.Well, we all know what happened to— And he mentioned three namesthat had been household words in the middle of the century. Theywere the names on the brass plaque dedicated to the martyred threephysicists.     He went on, A magician, on the other hand, tells people what theywish were true—that perpetual motion works, that cancer can be curedby colored lights, that a psychosis is no worse than a head cold, thatthey'll live forever. In good times magicians are laughed at. They're aluxury of the spoiled wealthy few. But in bad times people sell theirsouls for magic cures, and buy perpetual motion machines to power theirwar rockets.     Farquar clenched his fist. All the more reason to keep chipping awayat the Thinkers. Are we supposed to beg off from a job because it'sdifficult and dangerous?     Opperly shook his head. We're to keep clear of the infection ofviolence. In my day, Willard, I was one of the Frightened Men. Later Iwas one of the Angry Men and then one of the Minds of Despair. Now I'mconvinced that all my reactions were futile.     Exactly! Farquar agreed harshly. You reacted. You didn't act. Ifyou men who discovered atomic energy had only formed a secret league,if you'd only had the foresight and the guts to use your tremendousbargaining position to demand the power to shape mankind's future....     By the time you were born, Willard, Opperly interrupted dreamily,Hitler was merely a name in the history books. We scientists weren'tthe stuff out of which cloak-and-dagger men are made. Can you imagineOppenheimer wearing a mask or Einstein sneaking into the Old WhiteHouse with a bomb in his briefcase? He smiled. Besides, that's notthe way power is seized. New ideas aren't useful to the man bargainingfor power—only established facts or lies are.     Just the same, it would have been a good thing if you'd had a littleviolence in you.     No, Opperly said.     I've got violence in me, Farquar announced, shoving himself to hisfeet.  <doc-sep>Sunlight striking through French windows spotlighted a ballet of dustmotes untroubled by air-conditioning. Morton Opperly's living room waswell-kept but worn and quite behind the times. Instead of reading tapesthere were books; instead of steno-robots, pen and ink; while in placeof a four by six TV screen, a Picasso hung on the wall. Only Opperlyknew that the painting was still faintly radioactive, that it had beenriskily so when he'd smuggled it out of his bomb-singed apartment inNew York City.     The two physicists fronted each other across a coffee table. The faceof the elder was cadaverous, large-eyed, and tender—fined down bya long life of abstract thought. That of the younger was forceful,sensuous, bulky as his body, and exceptionally ugly. He looked ratherlike a bear.     Opperly was saying, So when he asked who was responsible for theMaelzel question, I said I didn't remember. He smiled. They stillallow me my absent-mindedness, since it nourishes their contempt.Almost my sole remaining privilege. The smile faded. Why do you keepon teasing the zoo animals, Willard? he asked without rancor. I'vemaintained many times that we shouldn't truckle to them by yieldingto their demand that we ask Maizie questions. You and the rest haveoverruled me. But then to use those questions to convey veiled insultsisn't reasonable. Apparently the Secretary of Space was bothered enoughabout this last one to pay me a 'copter call within twenty minutes ofthis morning's meeting at the Foundation. Why do you do it, Willard?     The features of the other convulsed unpleasantly. Because theThinkers are charlatans who must be exposed, he rapped out. We knowtheir Maizie is no more than a tealeaf-reading fake. We've traced theirMars rockets and found they go nowhere. We know their Martian mentalscience is bunk.     But we've already exposed the Thinkers very thoroughly, Opperlyinterposed quietly. You know the good it did.     Farquar hunched his Japanese-wrestler shoulders. Then it's got to bedone until it takes.     Opperly studied the bowl of mutated flowers by the coffee pot. I thinkyou just want to tease the animals, for some personal reason of whichyou probably aren't aware.     Farquar scowled. We're the ones in the cages.  <doc-sep>   Appointment in Tomorrow     BY FRITZ LEIBER     Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction July 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Is it possible to have a world without moral values?     Or does lack of morality become a moral value, also?      The first angry rays of the sun—which, startlingly enough, still rosein the east at 24 hour intervals—pierced the lacy tops of Atlanticcombers and touched thousands of sleeping Americans with unconsciousfear, because of their unpleasant similarity to the rays from World WarIII's atomic bombs.     They turned to blood the witch-circle of rusty steel skeletons aroundInferno in Manhattan. Without comment, they pointed a cosmic finger atthe tarnished brass plaque commemorating the martyrdom of the ThreePhysicists after the dropping of the Hell Bomb. They tenderly touchedthe rosy skin and strawberry bruises on the naked shoulders of agirl sleeping off a drunk on the furry and radiantly heated floor ofa nearby roof garden. They struck green magic from the glassy blotthat was Old Washington. Twelve hours before, they had revealed thingsas eerily beautiful, and as ravaged, in Asia and Russia. They pinkedthe white walls of the Colonial dwelling of Morton Opperly near theInstitute for Advanced Studies; upstairs they slanted impartiallyacross the Pharoahlike and open-eyed face of the elderly physicist andthe ugly, sleep-surly one of young Willard Farquar in the next room.And in nearby New Washington they made of the spire of the Thinkers'Foundation a blue and optimistic glory that outshone White House, Jr.     It was America approaching the end of the Twentieth Century. Americaof juke-box burlesque and your local radiation hospital. Americaof the mask-fad for women and Mystic Christianity. America of theoff-the-bosom dress and the New Blue Laws. America of the Endless Warand the loyalty detector. America of marvelous Maizie and the monthlyrocket to Mars. America of the Thinkers and (a few remembered) theInstitute. Knock on titanium, Whadya do for black-outs, Please,lover, don't think when I'm around, America, as combat-shocked andcrippled as the rest of the bomb-shattered planet.     Not one impudent photon of the sunlight penetrated the triple-paned,polarizing windows of Jorj Helmuth's bedroom in the Thinker'sFoundation, yet the clock in his brain awakened him to the minute,or almost. Switching off the Educational Sandman in the midst of thephrase, ... applying tensor calculus to the nucleus, he took adeep, even breath and cast his mind to the limits of the world andhis knowledge. It was a somewhat shadowy vision, but, he noted withimpartial approval, definitely less shadowy than yesterday morning.     Employing a rapid mental scanning technique, he next cleared his memorychains of false associations, including those acquired while asleep.These chores completed, he held his finger on a bedside button, whichrotated the polarizing window panes until the room slowly filled with amuted daylight. Then, still flat on his back, he turned his head untilhe could look at the remarkably beautiful blonde girl asleep beside him.  <doc-sep>Jorj Helmuth snipped the emerging answer tape into sections and handedeach to the appropriate man. Most of them carefully tucked theirs awaywith little more than a glance, but the Secretary of Space puzzled overhis.     Who the devil would Maelzel be? he asked.     A remote look came into the eyes of the Secretary of State. EdgarAllen Poe, he said frowningly, with eyes half-closed.     The grizzled general snapped his fingers. Sure! Maelzel's Chessplayer. Read it when I was a kid. About an automaton that was supposedto play chess. Poe proved it hid a man inside it.     The Secretary of Space frowned. Now what's the point in a foolquestion like that?     You said it came from Opperly's group? Jorj asked sharply.     The Secretary of Space nodded. The others looked at the two menpuzzledly.     Who would that be? Jorj pressed. The group, I mean.     The Secretary of Space shrugged. Oh, the usual little bunch over atthe Institute. Hindeman, Gregory, Opperly himself. Oh, yes, and youngFarquar.     Sounds like Opperly's getting senile, Jorj commented coldly. I'dinvestigate.     The Secretary of Space nodded. He suddenly looked tough. I will. Rightaway.  <doc-sep>   THE LONG REMEMBERED THUNDER     BY KEITH LAUMER     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of Tomorrow April 1963     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      He was as ancient as time—and as strange as     his own frightful battle against incredible odds!      I     In his room at the Elsby Commercial Hotel, Tremaine opened his luggageand took out a small tool kit, used a screwdriver to remove the bottomcover plate from the telephone. He inserted a tiny aluminum cylinder,crimped wires and replaced the cover. Then he dialed a long-distanceWashington number and waited half a minute for the connection.     Fred, Tremaine here. Put the buzzer on. A thin hum sounded on thewire as the scrambler went into operation.     Okay, can you read me all right? I'm set up in Elsby. Grammond's boysare supposed to keep me informed. Meantime, I'm not sitting in thisdamned room crouched over a dial. I'll be out and around for the restof the afternoon.     I want to see results, the thin voice came back over the filteredhum of the jamming device. You spent a week with Grammond—I can'twait another. I don't mind telling you certain quarters are pressingme.     Fred, when will you learn to sit on your news breaks until you've gotsome answers to go with the questions?     I'm an appointive official, Fred said sharply. But never mindthat. This fellow Margrave—General Margrave. Project Officer for thehyperwave program—he's been on my neck day and night. I can't say Iblame him. An unauthorized transmitter interfering with a Top Secretproject, progress slowing to a halt, and this Bureau—     Look, Fred. I was happy in the lab. Headaches, nightmares and all.Hyperwave is my baby, remember? You elected me to be a leg-man: now letme do it my way.     I felt a technical man might succeed where a trained investigatorcould be misled. And since it seems to be pinpointed in your homearea—     You don't have to justify yourself. Just don't hold out on me. Isometimes wonder if I've seen the complete files on this—     You've seen all the files! Now I want answers, not questions! I'mwarning you, Tremaine. Get that transmitter. I need someone to hang!  <doc-sep>There are tensions in this room, my sister announced as she slouchedin, not quite awake yet, and hatred. I could feel them all the wayupstairs. And today I'm working on the Sleepsweet Mattress copy, so Imust feel absolutely tranquil. Everyone will think beautiful thoughts,please.     She sat down just as a glass of orange juice was arriving at herplace; Danny apparently didn't know she'd come in already. The glassbumped into the back of her neck, tilted and poured its contents overher shoulder and down her very considerable decolletage. Being a mereprimitive, I couldn't help laughing.     Danny, you fumbler! she screamed.     Danny erupted from the kitchen. How many times have I asked all of younot to sit down until I've got everything on the table? Always a lot ofinterfering busybodies getting in the way.     I don't see why you have to set the table at all, she retorted. Arobot could do it better and faster than you. Even Kev could. Sheturned quickly toward me. Oh, I am sorry, Kevin.     I didn't say anything; I was too busy pressing my hands down on theback of the chair to make my knuckles turn white.     Sylvia's face turned even whiter. Father, stop him—      stop     him! He'shating again! I can't stand it!     Father looked at me, then at her. I don't think he can help it,Sylvia.     I grinned. That's right—I'm just a poor atavism with no control overmyself a-tall.     Finally my mother came in from the kitchen; she was an old-fashionedwoman and didn't hold with robocooks. One quick glance at me gave herthe complete details, even though I quickly protested, It's illegal toprobe anyone without permission.     I used to probe you to find out when you needed your diapers changed,she said tartly, and I'll probe you now. You should watch yourself,Sylvia—poor Kevin isn't responsible.     She didn't need to probe to get the blast of naked emotion that spurtedout from me. My sister screamed and even Father looked uncomfortable.Danny stomped back into the kitchen, muttering to himself.     Mother's lips tightened. Sylvia, go upstairs and change your dress.Kevin, do I have to make an appointment for you at the clinic again?A psychiatrist never diagnosed members of his own family—that is, notofficially; they couldn't help offering thumbnail diagnoses any morethan they could help having thumbnails.     No use, I said, deciding it was safe to drop into my chair. Who canadjust me to an environment to which I'm fundamentally unsuited?     Maybe there is something physically wrong with him, Amy, my fathersuggested hopefully. Maybe you should make an appointment for him atthe cure-all?     Mother shook her neatly coiffed head. He's been to it dozens of timesand he always checks out in splendid shape. None of us can spare thetime to go with him again, just on an off-chance, and he could hardlybe allowed to make such a long trip all by himself. Pity there isn't amachine in every community, but, then, we don't really need them.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] In what ways do Opperly and Farquar differ and resemble each other in Appointment in Tomorrow?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you summarize the storyline of HIS MASTER'S VOICE ANALOG SCIENCE FACT · SCIENCE FICTION? [SEP] <s>  Transcriber's Note:   This etext was produced from Analog March 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.    ILLUSTRATED     BY     KRENKEL        HIS MASTER'S VOICE     ANALOG SCIENCE FACT · SCIENCE FICTION       Spaceship McGuire had lots of knowledge—but no wisdom. He wassmart—but incredibly foolish. And, as a natural consequence, tended toask questions too profound for any philosopher—questions like Who areyou?     By RANDALL GARRETT      I'd been in Ravenhurst's office on the mountain-sized planetoid calledRaven's Rest only twice before. The third time was no better; ShalimarRavenhurst was one of the smartest operators in the Belt, but when itcame to personal relationships, he was utterly incompetent. He couldmake anyone dislike him without trying.     When I entered the office, he was  [3]  sitting behind his mahogany desk,his eyes focused on the operation he was going through with a wineglassand a decanter. He didn't look up at me as he said:     Sit down, Mr. Oak. Will you have some Madeira?     I decided I might as well observe the pleasantries. There was no pointin my getting nasty until he did. Thank you, Mr. Ravenhurst, I will.     He kept his eyes focused on his work: It isn't easy to pour wine on aplanetoid where the gee-pull is measured in fractions of a centimeterper second squared. It moves slowly, like ropy molasses, but you haveto be careful not to be fooled by that. The viscosity is just as lowas ever, and if you pour it from any great height, it will go scootingright out of the glass  [4]  again. The momentum it builds up is enough tomake it splash right out again in a slow-motion gush which gets it allover the place.     Besides which, even if it didn't splash, it would take it so long tofall a few inches that you'd die of thirst waiting for it.     Ravenhurst had evolved a technique from long years of practice.He tilted the glass and the bottle toward each other, their edgestouching, like you do when you're trying to pour beer without putting ahead on it. As soon as the wine wet the glass, the adhesive forces atwork would pull more wine into the wine glass. To get capillary actionon a low-gee asteroid, you don't need a capillary, by any means. Thenegative meniscus on the wine was something to see; the first timeyou see it, you get the eerie feeling that the glass is spinning andthrowing the wine up against the walls by centrifugal force.     I took the glass he offered me (Careful! Don't slosh!) and sipped atit. Using squirt tubes would have been a hell of a lot easier andneater, but Ravenhurst liked to do things his way.     He put the stopper back in the decanter, picked up his own glass andsipped appreciatively. Not until he put it back down on the desk againdid he raise his eyes and look at me for the first time since I'd comein.     Mr. Oak, you have caused me considerable trouble.     I thought we'd hashed all that out, Mr. Ravenhurst, I said, keepingmy voice level.     [5]     So had I. But it appears that there were more ramifications to youraction than we had at first supposed. His voice had the texture ofheavy linseed oil.     He waited, as if he expected me to make some reply to that. WhenI didn't, he sighed slightly and went on. I fear that you haveinadvertently sabotaged McGuire. You were commissioned to preventsabotage, Mr. Oak, and I'm afraid that you abrogated your contract.     I just continued to keep my voice calm. If you are trying to get backthe fee you gave me, we can always take it to court. I don't thinkyou'd win.     Mr. Oak, he said heavily, I am not a fool, regardless of what yourown impression may be. If I were trying to get back that fee, I wouldhardly offer to pay you another one.     I didn't think he was a fool. You don't get into the managerialbusiness and climb to the top and stay there unless you have brains.Ravenhurst was smart, all right; it was just that, when it came topersonal relationships, he wasn't very wise.     Then stop all this yak about an abrogated contract and get to thepoint, I told him.     I shall. I was merely trying to point out to you that it is throughyour own actions that I find myself in a very trying position, and thatyour sense of honor and ethics should induce you to rectify the damage.     My honor and ethics are in fine shape, I said, but my interpretationof the concepts might not be quite  [6]  the same as yours. Get to thepoint.     He took another sip of Madeira. The robotocists at Viking tellme that, in order to prevent any further ... ah ... sabotage byunauthorized persons, the MGYR-7 was constructed so that, afteractivation, the first man who addressed orders to it would thenceforthbe considered its ... ah ... master.     As I understand it, the problem of defining the term 'human being'unambiguously to a robot is still unsolved. The robotocists felt thatit would be much easier to define a single individual. That wouldprevent the issuing of conflicting orders to a robot, provided thesingle individual were careful in giving orders himself.     Now, it appears that      you     , Mr. Oak, were the first man to speak toMcGuire after he had been activated. Is that correct?     Is that question purely rhetorical, I asked him, putting on my bestexpression of innocent interest. Or are you losing your memory? I hadexplained all that to him two weeks before, when I'd brought McGuireand the girl here, so that Ravenhurst would have a chance to cover upwhat had really happened.  <doc-sep>   DR. KOMETEVSKY'S DAY     By FRITZ LEIBER     Illustrated by DAVID STONE     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction February 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]         Before science, there was superstition. After       science, there will be ... what? The biggest,       most staggering     , most final      fact of them all!        But it's all predicted here! It even names this century for the nextreshuffling of the planets.     Celeste Wolver looked up unwillingly at the book her friend MadgeCarnap held aloft like a torch. She made out the ill-stamped title,      The Dance of the Planets     . There was no mistaking the time ofits origin; only paper from the Twentieth Century aged to thatparticularly nasty shade of brown. Indeed, the book seemed to Celestea brown old witch resurrected from the Last Age of Madness to confounda world growing sane, and she couldn't help shrinking back a trifletoward her husband Theodor.     He tried to come to her rescue. Only predicted in the vaguest way. AsI understand it, Kometevsky claimed, on the basis of a lot of evidencedrawn from folklore, that the planets and their moons trade positionsevery so often.     As if they were playing Going to Jerusalem, or musical chairs,Celeste chimed in, but she couldn't make it sound funny.     Jupiter was supposed to have started as the outermost planet, and isto end up in the orbit of Mercury, Theodor continued. Well, nothingat all like that has happened.     But it's begun, Madge said with conviction. Phobos and Deimos havedisappeared. You can't argue away that stubborn little fact.     That was the trouble; you couldn't. Mars' two tiny moons had simplyvanished during a period when, as was generally the case, the eyesof astronomy weren't on them. Just some hundred-odd cubic miles ofrock—the merest cosmic flyspecks—yet they had carried away with themthe security of a whole world.  <doc-sep>It took three weeks to make the return trip to Swamp City. The Varsoomfollowed us far beyond the frontier of their country like an unseenarmy in the throes of laughing gas. Not until we reached Level Five didthe last chuckle fade into the distance.     All during that trek back, Grannie sat in the dugout, staring silentlyout before her.     But when we reached Swamp City, the news was flung at us from allsides. One newspaper headline accurately told the story: DOCTORUNIVERSE BID FOR SYSTEM DICTATORSHIP SQUELCHED BY RIDICULE OF UNSEENAUDIENCE. QUIZ MASTER NOW IN HANDS OF I.P. COUP FAILURE.     Grannie, I said that night as we sat again in a rear booth of THEJET, what are you going to do now? Give up writing science fiction?     She looked at me soberly, then broke into a smile.     Just because some silly form of life that can't even be seen doesn'tappreciate it? I should say not. Right now I've got an idea for a swellyarn about Mars. Want to come along while I dig up some backgroundmaterial?     I shook my head. Not me, I said.     But I knew I would.   <doc-sep>  Doctor Universe     By CARL JACOBI     Grannie Annie, who wrote science fiction     under the nom de plume of Annabella C. Flowers,     had stumbled onto a murderous plot more     hair-raising than any she had ever concocted.     And the danger from the villain of the piece     didn't worry her—I was the guy he was shooting at.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1944.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      I was killing an hour in the billiard room of the      Spacemen's Club     in Swamp City when the Venusian bellboy came and tapped me on theshoulder.     Beg pardon, thir, he said with his racial lisp, thereth thome one tothee you in the main lounge. His eyes rolled as he added, A lady!     A woman here...! The      Spacemen's     was a sanctuary, a rest club wherein-coming pilots and crewmen could relax before leaving for anothervoyage. The rule that no females could pass its portals was strictlyenforced.     I followed the bellhop down the long corridor that led to the mainlounge. At the threshold I jerked to a halt and stared incredulously.     Grannie Annie!     There she stood before a frantically gesticulating desk clerk, leaningon her faded green umbrella. A little wisp of a woman clad in avoluminous black dress with one of those doily-like caps on her head,tied by a ribbon under her chin. Her high-topped button shoes wereplanted firmly on the varpla carpet and her wrinkled face was set incalm defiance.     I barged across the lounge and seized her hand. Grannie Annie! Ihaven't seen you in two years.     Hi, Billy-boy, she greeted calmly. Will you please tell thisfish-face to shut up.     The desk clerk went white. Mithter Trenwith, if thith lady ith afriend of yourth, you'll have to take her away. It'th abtholutelyagainth the ruleth....     Okay, okay, I grinned. Look, we'll go into the grille. There's noone there at this hour.     In the grille an equally astonished waiter served us—me a lime rickeyand Grannie Annie her usual whisky sour—I waited until she had tossedthe drink off at a gulp before I set off a chain of questions:     What the devil are you doing on Venus? Don't you know women aren'tallowed in the      Spacemen's     ? What happened to the book you werewriting?     Hold it, Billy-boy. Laughingly she threw up both hands. Sure, I knewthis place had some antiquated laws. Pure fiddle-faddle, that's whatthey are. Anyway, I've been thrown out of better places.     She hadn't changed. To her publishers and her readers she might beAnnabella C. Flowers, author of a long list of science fiction novels.But to me she was still Grannie Annie, as old-fashioned as last year'shat, as modern as an atomic motor. She had probably written more drivelin the name of science fiction than anyone alive.     But the public loved it. They ate up her stories, and they clamored formore. Her annual income totaled into six figures, and her publisherssat back and massaged their digits, watching their earnings mount.     One thing you had to admit about her books. They may have been dimenovels, but they weren't synthetic. If Annabella C. Flowers wrote anovel, and the locale was the desert of Mars, she packed her carpet bagand hopped a liner for Craterville. If she cooked up a feud between twoexpeditions on Callisto, she went to Callisto.     She was the most completely delightful crackpot I had ever known.     What happened to      Guns for Ganymede     ? I asked. That was the title ofyour last, wasn't it?  <doc-sep>When Annabella C. Flowers, that renowned writer of science fiction,visiphoned me at Crater City, Mars, to meet her here, I had thought shewas crazy. But Miss Flowers, known to her friends as Grannie Annie,had always been mildly crazy. If you haven't read her books, you'vemissed something. She's the author of      Lady of the Green Flames     ,      Lady of the Runaway Planet     ,      Lady of the Crimson Space-Beast     , andother works of science fiction. Blood-and-thunder as these books are,however, they have one redeeming feature—authenticity of background.Grannie Annie was the original research digger-upper, and when shelaid the setting of a yarn on a star of the sixth magnitude, only atransportation-velocity of less than light could prevent her fromvisiting her stage in person.     Therefore when she asked me to meet her at the landing field of      Interstellar Voice     on Jupiter's Eighth Moon, I knew she had anothernovel in the state of embryo.     What I didn't expect was Ezra Karn. He was an old prospector Granniehad met, and he had become so attached to the authoress he now followedher wherever she went. As for Xartal, he was a Martian and was slatedto do the illustrations for Grannie's new book.     Five minutes after my ship had blasted down, the four of us met in theoffices of      Interstellar Voice     . And then I was shaking hands withAntlers Park, the manager of I. V. himself.     Glad to meet you, he said cordially. I've just been trying topersuade Miss Flowers not to attempt a trip into the Baldric.     What's the Baldric? I had asked.     Antlers Park flicked the ash from his cheroot and shrugged.     Will you believe me, sir, he said, when I tell you I've been outhere on this forsaken moon five years and don't rightly know myself?     I scowled at that; it didn't make sense.     However, as you perhaps know, the only reason for colonial activitieshere at all is because of the presence of an ore known as Acoustix.It's no use to the people of Earth but of untold value on Mars. I'mnot up on the scientific reasons, but it seems that life on the redplanet has developed with a supersonic method of vocal communication.The Martian speaks as the Earthman does, but he amplifies his thoughts'transmission by way of wave lengths as high as three million vibrationsper second. The trouble is that by the time the average Martian reachesmiddle age, his ability to produce those vibrations steadily decreases.Then it was found that this ore, Acoustix, revitalized their soundingapparatus, and the rush was on.     What do you mean?     Park leaned back. The rush to find more of the ore, he explained.But up until now this moon is the only place where it can be found.     There are two companies here, he continued,       Interstellar Voice     and      Larynx Incorporated     . Chap by the name of Jimmy Baker runs that.However, the point is, between the properties of these two companiesstretches a band or belt which has become known as the Baldric.     There are two principal forms of life in the Baldric; flagpole treesand a species of ornithoid resembling cockatoos. So far no one hascrossed the Baldric without trouble.     What sort of trouble? Grannie Annie had demanded. And when AntlersPark stuttered evasively, the old lady snorted, Fiddlesticks, I neversaw trouble yet that couldn't be explained. We leave in an hour.  <doc-sep>   THE FIVE HELLS OF ORION     BY FREDERICK POHL     Out in the great gas cloud of the Orion     Nebula McCray found an ally—and a foe!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, January 1963.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      His name was Herrell McCray and he was scared.     As best he could tell, he was in a sort of room no bigger than a prisoncell. Perhaps it was a prison cell. Whatever it was, he had no businessin it; for five minutes before he had been spaceborne, on the Long Jumpfrom Earth to the thriving colonies circling Betelgeuse Nine. McCraywas ship's navigator, plotting course corrections—not that there wereany, ever; but the reason there were none was that the check-sightingswere made every hour of the long flight. He had read off the azimuthangles from the computer sights, automatically locked on their beaconstars, and found them correct; then out of long habit confirmed thelocking mechanism visually. It was only a personal quaintness; he haddone it a thousand times. And while he was looking at Betelgeuse, Rigeland Saiph ... it happened.     The room was totally dark, and it seemed to be furnished with acollection of hard, sharp, sticky and knobby objects of various shapesand a number of inconvenient sizes. McCray tripped over somethingthat rocked under his feet and fell against something that clatteredhollowly. He picked himself up, braced against something that smelleddangerously of halogen compounds, and scratched his shoulder, rightthrough his space-tunic, against something that vibrated as he touchedit.     McCray had no idea where he was, and no way to find out.     Not only was he in darkness, but in utter silence as well. No. Notquite utter silence.     Somewhere, just at the threshold of his senses, there was somethinglike a voice. He could not quite hear it, but it was there. He sat asstill as he could, listening; it remained elusive.     Probably it was only an illusion.     But the room itself was hard fact. McCray swore violently and out loud.     It was crazy and impossible. There simply was no way for him to getfrom a warm, bright navigator's cubicle on      Starship Jodrell Bank     tothis damned, dark, dismal hole of a place where everything was out tohurt him and nothing explained what was going on. He cried aloud inexasperation: If I could only      see     !     He tripped and fell against something that was soft, slimy and, likebaker's dough, not at all resilient.     A flickering halo of pinkish light appeared. He sat up, startled. Hewas looking at something that resembled a suit of medieval armor.  <doc-sep>   MIGHTIEST QORN     BY KEITH LAUMER     Sly, brave and truculent, the Qornt     held all humans in contempt—except one!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1963.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      I     Ambassador Nitworth glowered across his mirror-polished, nine-footplatinum desk at his assembled staff.     Gentlemen, are any of you familiar with a race known as the Qornt?     There was a moment of profound silence. Nitworth leaned forward,looking solemn.     They were a warlike race known in this sector back in Concordiattimes, perhaps two hundred years ago. They vanished as suddenly asthey had appeared. There was no record of where they went. He pausedfor effect.     They have now reappeared—occupying the inner planet of this system!     But, sir, Second Secretary Magnan offered. That's uninhabitedTerrestrial territory....     Indeed, Mr. Magnan? Nitworth smiled icily. It appears the Qornt donot share that opinion. He plucked a heavy parchment from a folderbefore him, harrumphed and read aloud:     His Supreme Excellency The Qorn, Regent of Qornt, Over-Lord of theGalactic Destiny, Greets the Terrestrials and, with reference to thepresence in mandated territory of Terrestrial squatters, has the honorto advise that he will require the use of his outer world on thethirtieth day. Then will the Qornt come with steel and fire. Receive,Terrestrials, renewed assurances of my awareness of your existence,and let Those who dare gird for the contest.     Frankly, I wouldn't call it conciliatory, Magnan said.     Nitworth tapped the paper with a finger.     We have been served, gentlemen, with nothing less than an Ultimatum!     Well, we'll soon straighten these fellows out— the Military Attachebegan.     There happens to be more to this piece of truculence than appears onthe surface, the Ambassador cut in. He paused, waiting for interestedfrowns to settle into place.     Note, gentlemen, that these invaders have appeared on terrestrialcontrolled soil—and without so much as a flicker from the instrumentsof the Navigational Monitor Service!     The Military Attache blinked. That's absurd, he said flatly. Nitworthslapped the table.     We're up against something new, gentlemen! I've considered everyhypothesis from cloaks of invisibility to time travel! The fact is—theQornt fleets are indetectible!  <doc-sep>   Bodyguard     By CHRISTOPHER GRIMM     Illustrated by CAVAT     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction February 1956.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        When overwhelming danger is constantly present,of course       a man is entitled to have a bodyguard. The annoyance was that       he had to do it himself ... and his body would not cooperate!        The man at the bar was exceptionally handsome, and he knew it. So didthe light-haired girl at his side, and so did the nondescript man inthe gray suit who was watching them from a booth in the corner.     Everyone in the room was aware of the big young man, and most of thehumans present were resentful, for he handled himself consciously andarrogantly, as if his appearance alone were enough to make him superiorto anyone. Even the girl with him was growing restless, for she wasaccustomed to adulation herself, and next to Gabriel Lockard she wasalmost ordinary-looking.     As for the extraterrestrials—it was a free bar—they were merelyamused, since to them all men were pathetically and irredeemablyhideous.     Gabe threw his arm wide in one of his expansive gestures. There was ashort man standing next to the pair—young, as most men and women werein that time, thanks to the science which could stave off decay, thoughnot death—but with no other apparent physical virtue, for plasticsurgery had not fulfilled its bright promise of the twentieth century.     The drink he had been raising to his lips splashed all over hisclothing; the glass shattered at his feet. Now he was not only a ratherugly little man, but also a rather ridiculous one—or at least he felthe was, which was what mattered.     Sorry, colleague, Gabe said lazily. All my fault. You must let mebuy you a replacement. He gestured to the bartender. Another of thesame for my fellow-man here.     The ugly man dabbed futilely at his dripping trousers with a clothhastily supplied by the management.     You must allow me to pay your cleaning bill, Gabe said, taking outhis wallet and extracting several credit notes without seeming to lookat them. Here, have yourself a new suit on me.      You could use one     was implied.     And that, coming on top of Gabriel Lockard's spectacular appearance,was too much. The ugly man picked up the drink the bartender had justset before him and started to hurl it, glass and all, into Lockard'shandsome face.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you summarize the storyline of HIS MASTER'S VOICE ANALOG SCIENCE FACT · SCIENCE FICTION?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What does Daniel Oak do for a living in HIS MASTER'S VOICE ANALOG SCIENCE FACT · SCIENCE FICTION? [SEP] <s>  Transcriber's Note:   This etext was produced from Analog March 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.    ILLUSTRATED     BY     KRENKEL        HIS MASTER'S VOICE     ANALOG SCIENCE FACT · SCIENCE FICTION       Spaceship McGuire had lots of knowledge—but no wisdom. He wassmart—but incredibly foolish. And, as a natural consequence, tended toask questions too profound for any philosopher—questions like Who areyou?     By RANDALL GARRETT      I'd been in Ravenhurst's office on the mountain-sized planetoid calledRaven's Rest only twice before. The third time was no better; ShalimarRavenhurst was one of the smartest operators in the Belt, but when itcame to personal relationships, he was utterly incompetent. He couldmake anyone dislike him without trying.     When I entered the office, he was  [3]  sitting behind his mahogany desk,his eyes focused on the operation he was going through with a wineglassand a decanter. He didn't look up at me as he said:     Sit down, Mr. Oak. Will you have some Madeira?     I decided I might as well observe the pleasantries. There was no pointin my getting nasty until he did. Thank you, Mr. Ravenhurst, I will.     He kept his eyes focused on his work: It isn't easy to pour wine on aplanetoid where the gee-pull is measured in fractions of a centimeterper second squared. It moves slowly, like ropy molasses, but you haveto be careful not to be fooled by that. The viscosity is just as lowas ever, and if you pour it from any great height, it will go scootingright out of the glass  [4]  again. The momentum it builds up is enough tomake it splash right out again in a slow-motion gush which gets it allover the place.     Besides which, even if it didn't splash, it would take it so long tofall a few inches that you'd die of thirst waiting for it.     Ravenhurst had evolved a technique from long years of practice.He tilted the glass and the bottle toward each other, their edgestouching, like you do when you're trying to pour beer without putting ahead on it. As soon as the wine wet the glass, the adhesive forces atwork would pull more wine into the wine glass. To get capillary actionon a low-gee asteroid, you don't need a capillary, by any means. Thenegative meniscus on the wine was something to see; the first timeyou see it, you get the eerie feeling that the glass is spinning andthrowing the wine up against the walls by centrifugal force.     I took the glass he offered me (Careful! Don't slosh!) and sipped atit. Using squirt tubes would have been a hell of a lot easier andneater, but Ravenhurst liked to do things his way.     He put the stopper back in the decanter, picked up his own glass andsipped appreciatively. Not until he put it back down on the desk againdid he raise his eyes and look at me for the first time since I'd comein.     Mr. Oak, you have caused me considerable trouble.     I thought we'd hashed all that out, Mr. Ravenhurst, I said, keepingmy voice level.     [5]     So had I. But it appears that there were more ramifications to youraction than we had at first supposed. His voice had the texture ofheavy linseed oil.     He waited, as if he expected me to make some reply to that. WhenI didn't, he sighed slightly and went on. I fear that you haveinadvertently sabotaged McGuire. You were commissioned to preventsabotage, Mr. Oak, and I'm afraid that you abrogated your contract.     I just continued to keep my voice calm. If you are trying to get backthe fee you gave me, we can always take it to court. I don't thinkyou'd win.     Mr. Oak, he said heavily, I am not a fool, regardless of what yourown impression may be. If I were trying to get back that fee, I wouldhardly offer to pay you another one.     I didn't think he was a fool. You don't get into the managerialbusiness and climb to the top and stay there unless you have brains.Ravenhurst was smart, all right; it was just that, when it came topersonal relationships, he wasn't very wise.     Then stop all this yak about an abrogated contract and get to thepoint, I told him.     I shall. I was merely trying to point out to you that it is throughyour own actions that I find myself in a very trying position, and thatyour sense of honor and ethics should induce you to rectify the damage.     My honor and ethics are in fine shape, I said, but my interpretationof the concepts might not be quite  [6]  the same as yours. Get to thepoint.     He took another sip of Madeira. The robotocists at Viking tellme that, in order to prevent any further ... ah ... sabotage byunauthorized persons, the MGYR-7 was constructed so that, afteractivation, the first man who addressed orders to it would thenceforthbe considered its ... ah ... master.     As I understand it, the problem of defining the term 'human being'unambiguously to a robot is still unsolved. The robotocists felt thatit would be much easier to define a single individual. That wouldprevent the issuing of conflicting orders to a robot, provided thesingle individual were careful in giving orders himself.     Now, it appears that      you     , Mr. Oak, were the first man to speak toMcGuire after he had been activated. Is that correct?     Is that question purely rhetorical, I asked him, putting on my bestexpression of innocent interest. Or are you losing your memory? I hadexplained all that to him two weeks before, when I'd brought McGuireand the girl here, so that Ravenhurst would have a chance to cover upwhat had really happened.  <doc-sep>   DR. KOMETEVSKY'S DAY     By FRITZ LEIBER     Illustrated by DAVID STONE     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction February 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]         Before science, there was superstition. After       science, there will be ... what? The biggest,       most staggering     , most final      fact of them all!        But it's all predicted here! It even names this century for the nextreshuffling of the planets.     Celeste Wolver looked up unwillingly at the book her friend MadgeCarnap held aloft like a torch. She made out the ill-stamped title,      The Dance of the Planets     . There was no mistaking the time ofits origin; only paper from the Twentieth Century aged to thatparticularly nasty shade of brown. Indeed, the book seemed to Celestea brown old witch resurrected from the Last Age of Madness to confounda world growing sane, and she couldn't help shrinking back a trifletoward her husband Theodor.     He tried to come to her rescue. Only predicted in the vaguest way. AsI understand it, Kometevsky claimed, on the basis of a lot of evidencedrawn from folklore, that the planets and their moons trade positionsevery so often.     As if they were playing Going to Jerusalem, or musical chairs,Celeste chimed in, but she couldn't make it sound funny.     Jupiter was supposed to have started as the outermost planet, and isto end up in the orbit of Mercury, Theodor continued. Well, nothingat all like that has happened.     But it's begun, Madge said with conviction. Phobos and Deimos havedisappeared. You can't argue away that stubborn little fact.     That was the trouble; you couldn't. Mars' two tiny moons had simplyvanished during a period when, as was generally the case, the eyesof astronomy weren't on them. Just some hundred-odd cubic miles ofrock—the merest cosmic flyspecks—yet they had carried away with themthe security of a whole world.  <doc-sep>It took three weeks to make the return trip to Swamp City. The Varsoomfollowed us far beyond the frontier of their country like an unseenarmy in the throes of laughing gas. Not until we reached Level Five didthe last chuckle fade into the distance.     All during that trek back, Grannie sat in the dugout, staring silentlyout before her.     But when we reached Swamp City, the news was flung at us from allsides. One newspaper headline accurately told the story: DOCTORUNIVERSE BID FOR SYSTEM DICTATORSHIP SQUELCHED BY RIDICULE OF UNSEENAUDIENCE. QUIZ MASTER NOW IN HANDS OF I.P. COUP FAILURE.     Grannie, I said that night as we sat again in a rear booth of THEJET, what are you going to do now? Give up writing science fiction?     She looked at me soberly, then broke into a smile.     Just because some silly form of life that can't even be seen doesn'tappreciate it? I should say not. Right now I've got an idea for a swellyarn about Mars. Want to come along while I dig up some backgroundmaterial?     I shook my head. Not me, I said.     But I knew I would.   <doc-sep>   CALL HIM NEMESIS     By DONALD E. WESTLAKE     Criminals, beware; the Scorpion is on     your trail! Hoodlums fear his fury—and,     for that matter, so do the cops!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The man with the handkerchief mask said, All right, everybody, keeptight. This is a holdup.     There were twelve people in the bank. There was Mr. Featherhall athis desk, refusing to okay a personal check from a perfect stranger.There was the perfect stranger, an itinerant garage mechanic namedRodney (Rod) Strom, like the check said. There were Miss English andMiss Philicoff, the girls in the gilded teller cages. There was MisterAnderson, the guard, dozing by the door in his brown uniform. There wasMrs. Elizabeth Clayhorn, depositing her husband's pay check in theirjoint checking account, and with her was her ten-year-old son Edward(Eddie) Clayhorn, Junior. There was Charlie Casale, getting ten dollarsdimes, six dollars nickels and four dollars pennies for his fatherin the grocery store down the street. There was Mrs. Dolly Daniels,withdrawing money from her savings account again. And there were threebank robbers.     The three bank robbers looked like triplets. From the ground up, theyall wore scuffy black shoes, baggy-kneed and unpressed khaki trousers,brown cracked-leather jackets over flannel shirts, white handkerchiefsover the lower half of their faces and gray-and-white check caps pulledlow over their eyes. The eyes themselves looked dangerous.     The man who had spoken withdrew a small but mean-looking thirty-twocalibre pistol from his jacket pocket. He waved it menacingly. One ofthe others took the pistol away from Mister Anderson, the guard, andsaid to him in a low voice, Think about retirement, my friend. Thethird one, who carried a black satchel like a doctor's bag, walkedquickly around behind the teller's counter and started filling it withmoney.     It was just like the movies.     The man who had first spoken herded the tellers, Mr. Featherhall andthe customers all over against the back wall, while the second manstayed next to Mr. Anderson and the door. The third man stuffed moneyinto the black satchel.     The man by the door said, Hurry up.     The man with the satchel said, One more drawer.     The man with the gun turned to say to the man at the door, Keep yourshirt on.     That was all Miss English needed. She kicked off her shoes and ranpelting in her stocking feet for the door.  <doc-sep>   Yesterday House     By FRITZ LEIBER     Illustrated by ASHMAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction August 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Meeting someone who's been dead for twenty       years is shocking enough for anyone with a       belief in ghosts—worse for one with none!        I     The narrow cove was quiet as the face of an expectant child, yet sonear the ruffled Atlantic that the last push of wind carried the      AnnieO.     its full length. The man in gray flannels and sweatshirt let thesail come crumpling down and hurried past its white folds at a gaitmade comically awkward by his cramped muscles. Slowly the rocky ledgecame nearer. Slowly the blue V inscribed on the cove's surface by thesloop's prow died. Sloop and ledge kissed so gently that he hardly hadto reach out his hand.     He scrambled ashore, dipping a sneaker in the icy water, and threw theline around a boulder. Unkinking himself, he looked back through thecove's high and rocky mouth at the gray-green scattering of islandsand the faint dark line that was the coast of Maine. He almost laughedin satisfaction at having disregarded vague warnings and done the thingevery man yearns to do once in his lifetime—gone to the farthestisland out.     He must have looked longer than he realized, because by the time hedropped his gaze the cove was again as glassy as if the      Annie O.     hadalways been there. And the splotches made by his sneaker on the rockhad faded in the hot sun. There was something very unusual about thequietness of this place. As if time, elsewhere hurrying frantically,paused here to rest. As if all changes were erased on this one bit ofEarth.     The man's lean, melancholy face crinkled into a grin at the banalfancy. He turned his back on his new friend, the little green sloop,without one thought for his nets and specimen bottles, and set out toexplore. The ground rose steeply at first and the oaks were close, butafter a little way things went downhill and the leaves thinned and hecame out on more rocks—and realized that he hadn't quite gone to thefarthest one out.  <doc-sep>  Doctor Universe     By CARL JACOBI     Grannie Annie, who wrote science fiction     under the nom de plume of Annabella C. Flowers,     had stumbled onto a murderous plot more     hair-raising than any she had ever concocted.     And the danger from the villain of the piece     didn't worry her—I was the guy he was shooting at.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1944.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      I was killing an hour in the billiard room of the      Spacemen's Club     in Swamp City when the Venusian bellboy came and tapped me on theshoulder.     Beg pardon, thir, he said with his racial lisp, thereth thome one tothee you in the main lounge. His eyes rolled as he added, A lady!     A woman here...! The      Spacemen's     was a sanctuary, a rest club wherein-coming pilots and crewmen could relax before leaving for anothervoyage. The rule that no females could pass its portals was strictlyenforced.     I followed the bellhop down the long corridor that led to the mainlounge. At the threshold I jerked to a halt and stared incredulously.     Grannie Annie!     There she stood before a frantically gesticulating desk clerk, leaningon her faded green umbrella. A little wisp of a woman clad in avoluminous black dress with one of those doily-like caps on her head,tied by a ribbon under her chin. Her high-topped button shoes wereplanted firmly on the varpla carpet and her wrinkled face was set incalm defiance.     I barged across the lounge and seized her hand. Grannie Annie! Ihaven't seen you in two years.     Hi, Billy-boy, she greeted calmly. Will you please tell thisfish-face to shut up.     The desk clerk went white. Mithter Trenwith, if thith lady ith afriend of yourth, you'll have to take her away. It'th abtholutelyagainth the ruleth....     Okay, okay, I grinned. Look, we'll go into the grille. There's noone there at this hour.     In the grille an equally astonished waiter served us—me a lime rickeyand Grannie Annie her usual whisky sour—I waited until she had tossedthe drink off at a gulp before I set off a chain of questions:     What the devil are you doing on Venus? Don't you know women aren'tallowed in the      Spacemen's     ? What happened to the book you werewriting?     Hold it, Billy-boy. Laughingly she threw up both hands. Sure, I knewthis place had some antiquated laws. Pure fiddle-faddle, that's whatthey are. Anyway, I've been thrown out of better places.     She hadn't changed. To her publishers and her readers she might beAnnabella C. Flowers, author of a long list of science fiction novels.But to me she was still Grannie Annie, as old-fashioned as last year'shat, as modern as an atomic motor. She had probably written more drivelin the name of science fiction than anyone alive.     But the public loved it. They ate up her stories, and they clamored formore. Her annual income totaled into six figures, and her publisherssat back and massaged their digits, watching their earnings mount.     One thing you had to admit about her books. They may have been dimenovels, but they weren't synthetic. If Annabella C. Flowers wrote anovel, and the locale was the desert of Mars, she packed her carpet bagand hopped a liner for Craterville. If she cooked up a feud between twoexpeditions on Callisto, she went to Callisto.     She was the most completely delightful crackpot I had ever known.     What happened to      Guns for Ganymede     ? I asked. That was the title ofyour last, wasn't it?  <doc-sep>When Annabella C. Flowers, that renowned writer of science fiction,visiphoned me at Crater City, Mars, to meet her here, I had thought shewas crazy. But Miss Flowers, known to her friends as Grannie Annie,had always been mildly crazy. If you haven't read her books, you'vemissed something. She's the author of      Lady of the Green Flames     ,      Lady of the Runaway Planet     ,      Lady of the Crimson Space-Beast     , andother works of science fiction. Blood-and-thunder as these books are,however, they have one redeeming feature—authenticity of background.Grannie Annie was the original research digger-upper, and when shelaid the setting of a yarn on a star of the sixth magnitude, only atransportation-velocity of less than light could prevent her fromvisiting her stage in person.     Therefore when she asked me to meet her at the landing field of      Interstellar Voice     on Jupiter's Eighth Moon, I knew she had anothernovel in the state of embryo.     What I didn't expect was Ezra Karn. He was an old prospector Granniehad met, and he had become so attached to the authoress he now followedher wherever she went. As for Xartal, he was a Martian and was slatedto do the illustrations for Grannie's new book.     Five minutes after my ship had blasted down, the four of us met in theoffices of      Interstellar Voice     . And then I was shaking hands withAntlers Park, the manager of I. V. himself.     Glad to meet you, he said cordially. I've just been trying topersuade Miss Flowers not to attempt a trip into the Baldric.     What's the Baldric? I had asked.     Antlers Park flicked the ash from his cheroot and shrugged.     Will you believe me, sir, he said, when I tell you I've been outhere on this forsaken moon five years and don't rightly know myself?     I scowled at that; it didn't make sense.     However, as you perhaps know, the only reason for colonial activitieshere at all is because of the presence of an ore known as Acoustix.It's no use to the people of Earth but of untold value on Mars. I'mnot up on the scientific reasons, but it seems that life on the redplanet has developed with a supersonic method of vocal communication.The Martian speaks as the Earthman does, but he amplifies his thoughts'transmission by way of wave lengths as high as three million vibrationsper second. The trouble is that by the time the average Martian reachesmiddle age, his ability to produce those vibrations steadily decreases.Then it was found that this ore, Acoustix, revitalized their soundingapparatus, and the rush was on.     What do you mean?     Park leaned back. The rush to find more of the ore, he explained.But up until now this moon is the only place where it can be found.     There are two companies here, he continued,       Interstellar Voice     and      Larynx Incorporated     . Chap by the name of Jimmy Baker runs that.However, the point is, between the properties of these two companiesstretches a band or belt which has become known as the Baldric.     There are two principal forms of life in the Baldric; flagpole treesand a species of ornithoid resembling cockatoos. So far no one hascrossed the Baldric without trouble.     What sort of trouble? Grannie Annie had demanded. And when AntlersPark stuttered evasively, the old lady snorted, Fiddlesticks, I neversaw trouble yet that couldn't be explained. We leave in an hour.  <doc-sep>  Mrs. Herbert Hyrel  removedthe telovis from herhead and laid it carefully aside.She uncoiled her long legs from beneathher, walked to her husband'schair, and stood for a long momentlooking down at him, her lipsdrawn back in contempt. Then shebent over him and reached downhis thigh until her fingers contactedthe small switch.     Seconds later, a slight tremorshook Hyrel's body. His eyessnapped open, air escaped his lungs,his lower jaw sagged inanely, andhis head lolled to one side.     She stood a moment longer,watching his eyes become glazedand sightless. Then she walked tothe telephone.     Police? she said. This is Mrs.Herbert Hyrel. Something horriblehas happened to my husband.Please come over immediately.Bring a doctor.     She hung up, went to her bathroom,stripped off her clothing,and slid carefully out of her telportersuit. This she folded neatlyand tucked away into the false backof the medicine cabinet. She founda fresh pair of blue, plastifur pajamasand got into them.     She was just arriving back intothe living room, tying the cord ofher dressing gown about her slimwaist, when she heard the sound ofthe police siren out front.     THE END       Transcriber's Note:       This etext was produced from      If Worlds of Science Fiction     July 1953.Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling andtypographical errors have been corrected without note.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What does Daniel Oak do for a living in HIS MASTER'S VOICE ANALOG SCIENCE FACT · SCIENCE FICTION?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the connection between Ravenhurst and Daniel Oak in HIS MASTER'S VOICE ANALOG SCIENCE FACT · SCIENCE FICTION? [SEP] <s>  Transcriber's Note:   This etext was produced from Analog March 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.    ILLUSTRATED     BY     KRENKEL        HIS MASTER'S VOICE     ANALOG SCIENCE FACT · SCIENCE FICTION       Spaceship McGuire had lots of knowledge—but no wisdom. He wassmart—but incredibly foolish. And, as a natural consequence, tended toask questions too profound for any philosopher—questions like Who areyou?     By RANDALL GARRETT      I'd been in Ravenhurst's office on the mountain-sized planetoid calledRaven's Rest only twice before. The third time was no better; ShalimarRavenhurst was one of the smartest operators in the Belt, but when itcame to personal relationships, he was utterly incompetent. He couldmake anyone dislike him without trying.     When I entered the office, he was  [3]  sitting behind his mahogany desk,his eyes focused on the operation he was going through with a wineglassand a decanter. He didn't look up at me as he said:     Sit down, Mr. Oak. Will you have some Madeira?     I decided I might as well observe the pleasantries. There was no pointin my getting nasty until he did. Thank you, Mr. Ravenhurst, I will.     He kept his eyes focused on his work: It isn't easy to pour wine on aplanetoid where the gee-pull is measured in fractions of a centimeterper second squared. It moves slowly, like ropy molasses, but you haveto be careful not to be fooled by that. The viscosity is just as lowas ever, and if you pour it from any great height, it will go scootingright out of the glass  [4]  again. The momentum it builds up is enough tomake it splash right out again in a slow-motion gush which gets it allover the place.     Besides which, even if it didn't splash, it would take it so long tofall a few inches that you'd die of thirst waiting for it.     Ravenhurst had evolved a technique from long years of practice.He tilted the glass and the bottle toward each other, their edgestouching, like you do when you're trying to pour beer without putting ahead on it. As soon as the wine wet the glass, the adhesive forces atwork would pull more wine into the wine glass. To get capillary actionon a low-gee asteroid, you don't need a capillary, by any means. Thenegative meniscus on the wine was something to see; the first timeyou see it, you get the eerie feeling that the glass is spinning andthrowing the wine up against the walls by centrifugal force.     I took the glass he offered me (Careful! Don't slosh!) and sipped atit. Using squirt tubes would have been a hell of a lot easier andneater, but Ravenhurst liked to do things his way.     He put the stopper back in the decanter, picked up his own glass andsipped appreciatively. Not until he put it back down on the desk againdid he raise his eyes and look at me for the first time since I'd comein.     Mr. Oak, you have caused me considerable trouble.     I thought we'd hashed all that out, Mr. Ravenhurst, I said, keepingmy voice level.     [5]     So had I. But it appears that there were more ramifications to youraction than we had at first supposed. His voice had the texture ofheavy linseed oil.     He waited, as if he expected me to make some reply to that. WhenI didn't, he sighed slightly and went on. I fear that you haveinadvertently sabotaged McGuire. You were commissioned to preventsabotage, Mr. Oak, and I'm afraid that you abrogated your contract.     I just continued to keep my voice calm. If you are trying to get backthe fee you gave me, we can always take it to court. I don't thinkyou'd win.     Mr. Oak, he said heavily, I am not a fool, regardless of what yourown impression may be. If I were trying to get back that fee, I wouldhardly offer to pay you another one.     I didn't think he was a fool. You don't get into the managerialbusiness and climb to the top and stay there unless you have brains.Ravenhurst was smart, all right; it was just that, when it came topersonal relationships, he wasn't very wise.     Then stop all this yak about an abrogated contract and get to thepoint, I told him.     I shall. I was merely trying to point out to you that it is throughyour own actions that I find myself in a very trying position, and thatyour sense of honor and ethics should induce you to rectify the damage.     My honor and ethics are in fine shape, I said, but my interpretationof the concepts might not be quite  [6]  the same as yours. Get to thepoint.     He took another sip of Madeira. The robotocists at Viking tellme that, in order to prevent any further ... ah ... sabotage byunauthorized persons, the MGYR-7 was constructed so that, afteractivation, the first man who addressed orders to it would thenceforthbe considered its ... ah ... master.     As I understand it, the problem of defining the term 'human being'unambiguously to a robot is still unsolved. The robotocists felt thatit would be much easier to define a single individual. That wouldprevent the issuing of conflicting orders to a robot, provided thesingle individual were careful in giving orders himself.     Now, it appears that      you     , Mr. Oak, were the first man to speak toMcGuire after he had been activated. Is that correct?     Is that question purely rhetorical, I asked him, putting on my bestexpression of innocent interest. Or are you losing your memory? I hadexplained all that to him two weeks before, when I'd brought McGuireand the girl here, so that Ravenhurst would have a chance to cover upwhat had really happened.  <doc-sep>My sarcasm didn't faze him in the least. Rhetorical. It follows thatyou are the only man whose orders McGuire will obey.     Your robotocists can change that, I said. This time, I was giving himmy version of genuine innocence.  [7]  A man has to be a good actor to bea competent double agent, and I didn't want Ravenhurst to know that Iknew a great deal more about the problem than he did.     He shook his head, making his jowls wobble. No, they cannot. Theyrealize now that there should be some way of making that change, butthey failed to see that it would be necessary. Only by completelydraining McGuire's memory banks and refilling them with new data canthis bias be eliminated.     Then why don't they do that?     There are two very good reasons, he said. And there was a shade ofanger in his tone. In the first place, that sort of operation takestime, and it costs money. If we do that, we might as well go ahead andmake the slight changes in structure necessary to incorporate some ofthe improvements that the robotocists now feel are necessary. In otherwords, they might as well go ahead and build the MGYR-8, which isprecisely the thing I hired you to prevent.     It seems you have a point there, Mr. Ravenhurst. He'd hired mebecause things were shaky at Viking. If he lost too much more money onthe McGuire experiment, he stood a good chance of losing his positionas manager. If that happened some of his other managerial contractsmight be canceled, too. Things like that can begin to snowball, andRavenhurst might find himself out of the managerial business entirely.     But, I went on, hasn't the additional wasted time already cost you  [8]  money?     It has. I was reluctant to call you in again—understandably enough, Ithink.     Perfectly. It's mutual.     He ignored me. I even considered going through with the rebuildingwork, now that we have traced down the source of failure of the firstsix models. Unfortunately, that isn't feasible, either. He scowled atme.     It seems, he went on, that McGuire refuses to allow his brain tobe tampered with. The self-preservation 'instinct' has come to thefore. He has refused to let the technicians and robotocists enter hishull, and he has threatened to take off and leave Ceres if any furtherattempts are made to ... ah ... disrupt his thinking processes.     I can't say that I blame him, I said. What do you want me to do? Goto Ceres and tell him to submit like a good boy?     It is too late for that, Mr. Oak. Viking cannot stand any more ofthat kind of drain on its financial resources. I have been banking onthe McGuire-type ships to put Viking Spacecraft ahead of every otherspacecraft company in the System. He looked suddenly very grim andvery determined. Mr. Oak, I am      certain     that the robot ship is theanswer to the transportation problems in the Solar System. For the sakeof every human being in the Solar System, we must get the bugs out ofMcGuire!       What's good for General Bull-moose is good for everybody     , I quotedto myself. I'd have said it out loud,  [9]  but I was fairly certain thatShalimar Ravenhurst was not a student of the classics.     Mr. Oak, I would like you to go to Ceres and co-operate with therobotocists at Viking. When the MGYR-8 is finally built, I want it tobe the prototype for a fast, safe, functional robot spaceship that canbe turned out commercially. You can be of great service, Mr. Oak.     In other words, I've got you over a barrel.     I don't deny it.     You know what my fees are, Mr. Ravenhurst. That's what you'll becharged. I'll expect to be paid weekly; if Viking goes broke, I don'twant to lose more than a week's pay. On the other hand, if the MGYR-8is successful, I will expect a substantial bonus.     How much?     Exactly half of the cost of rebuilding. Half what it would take tobuild a Model 8 right now, and taking a chance on there being no bugsin it.     He considered that, looking grimmer than ever. Then he said: I willdo it on the condition that the bonus be paid off in installments, oneeach six months for three years after the first successful commercialship is built by Viking.     My lawyer will nail you down on that wording, I said, but it's adeal. Is there anything else?     No.     Then I think I'll leave for Ceres before you break a blood vessel.     You continue to amaze me, Mr. Oak, he said. And the soft oiliness  [10]  ofhis voice was the oil of vitriol. Your compassion for your fellowmanis a facet of your personality that I had not seen before. I shallwelcome the opportunity to relax and allow my blood pressure tosubside.     I could almost see Shalimar Ravenhurst suddenly exploding and addinghis own touch of color to the room.     And, on that gladsome thought, I left. I let him have his small verbaltriumph; if he'd known that I'd have taken on the job for almostnothing, he'd really have blown up.  <doc-sep>Brock pushed open the inch-thick metal door beneath a sign that saidO'Banion's Bar, and I followed him in. We sat down at a table andordered drinks when the waiter bustled over. A cop in uniform isn'tsupposed to drink, but Brock figures that the head of the SecurityGuard ought to be able to get away with a breach of his own rules.     We had our drinks in front of us and our cigarettes lit before Brockopened up with his troubles.     Oak, he said, I wanted to intercept you before you went to the plantbecause I want you to know that there may be trouble.     Yeah? What kind? Sometimes it's a pain to play ignorant.     Thurston's outfit is trying to oust Ravenhurst from the managership ofViking and take over the job. Baedecker Metals & Mining Corporation,which is managed by Baedecker himself, wants to force Viking out ofbusiness so that BM&M can take over Ceres for large-scale processing ofprecious metals.     Between the two of 'em, they're raising all sorts of minor hellaround  [21]  here, and it's liable to become major hell at any time. And wecan't stand any hell—or sabotage—around this planetoid just now!     Now wait a minute, I said, still playing ignorant, I thought we'dpretty well established that the 'sabotage' of the McGuire series wasJack Ravenhurst's fault. She was the one who was driving them nuts, notThurston's agents.     Perfectly true, he said agreeably. We managed to block any attemptsof sabotage by other company agents, even though it looked as though wehadn't for a while. He chuckled wryly. We went all out to keep theMcGuires safe, and all the time the boss' daughter was giving them theworks. Then he looked sharply at me. I covered that, of course. Noone in the Security Guard but me knows that Jack was responsible.     Good. But what about the Thurston and Baedecker agents, then?     He took a hefty slug of his drink. They're around, all right. We haveour eyes on the ones we know, but those outfits are as sharp as weare, and they may have a few agents here on Ceres that we know nothingabout.     So? What does this have to do with me?     He put his drink on the table. Oak, I want you to help me. Hisonyx-brown eyes, only a shade darker than his skin, looked directlyinto my own. I know it isn't part of your assignment, and you know Ican't afford to pay you anything near what you're worth. It will haveto come out of my  [22]  pocket because I couldn't possibly justify it fromoperating funds. Ravenhurst specifically told me that he doesn't wantyou messing around with the espionage and sabotage problem because hedoesn't like your methods of operation.     And you're going to go against his orders?     I am. Ravenhurst is sore at you personally because you showed himthat Jack was responsible for the McGuire sabotage. It's an irrationaldislike, and I am not going to let it interfere with my job. I'm goingto protect Ravenhurst's interests to the best of my ability, and thatmeans that I'll use the best of other people's abilities if I can.     I grinned at him. The last I heard, you were sore at me for blattingit all over Ceres that Jaqueline Ravenhurst was missing, when shesneaked aboard McGuire.     He nodded perfunctorily. I was. I still think you should have told mewhat you were up to. But you did it, and you got results that I'd beenunable to get. I'm not going to let a momentary pique hang on as anirrational dislike. I like to think I have more sense than that.     Thanks. There wasn't much else I could say.     Now, I've got a little dough put away; it's not much, but I couldoffer you—     I shook my head, cutting him off. Nope. Sorry, Brock. For two reasons.In the first place, there would be a conflict of interest. I'm workingfor Ravenhurst, and if he doesn't want  [23]  me to work for you, then itwould be unethical for me to take the job.     In the second place, my fees are standardized. Oh, I can allow acertain amount of fluctuation, but I'm not a physician or a lawyer; myservices are  [24]  not necessary to the survival of the individual, exceptin very rare cases, and those cases are generally arranged through alawyer when it's a charity case.     No, colonel, I'm afraid I couldn't  [25]  possibly work for you.     He thought that over for a long time. Finally, he nodded his head veryslowly. I see. Yeah, I get your point. He scowled down at his drink.           But     , I said, it would be a pleasure  [26]  to work      with     you.     He looked up quickly. How's that?     Well, let's look at it this way: You can't hire me because I'm alreadyworking for Ravenhurst; I can't hire  [27]  you because      you're     working forRavenhurst. But since we may need each other, and since we're bothworking for Ravenhurst, there would be no conflict of interest if weco-operate.     Or, to put it another way, I can't take money for any service I mayrender you, but you can pay off in services. Am I coming through?     His broad smile made the scars on his face fold in and deepen. Loudand clear. It's a deal.     I held up a hand, palm toward him. Ah, ah, ah! There's no 'deal'involved. We're just old buddies helping each other. This is forfriendship, not business. I scratch your back; you scratch mine. Fair?     Fair. Come on down to my office; I want to give you a headful of factsand figures.     Will do. Let me finish my guzzle.  <doc-sep>Ten minutes later, I was in my vacuum suit, walking across the glaring,rough-polished rectangle of metal that was the landing field ofRaven's Rest. The sun was near the zenith in the black, diamond-dustedsky, and the shadow of my flitterboat stood out like an inkblot ona bridal gown. I climbed in, started the engine, and released themagnetic anchor that held the little boat to the surface of thenickel-iron planetoid. I lifted her gently, worked her around until Iwas stationary in relation to the spinning planetoid, oriented myselfagainst the stellar background, and headed toward the first blinkerbeacon on my way to Ceres.     For obvious economical reasons, it it impracticable to use full-sizedspaceships in the Belt. A flitterboat, with a single gravitoinertialengine and the few necessities of life—air, some water, and a verylittle food—still costs more than a Rolls-Royce  [11]  automobile does onEarth, but there has to be some sort of individual transportation inthe Belt.     They can't be used for any great distances because a man can't stayin a vac suit very long without getting uncomfortable. You have tohop from beacon to beacon, which means that your      average     velocitydoesn't amount to much, since you spend too much time acceleratingand decelerating. But a flitterboat is enough to get around theneighborhood in, and that's all that's needed.     I got the GM-187 blinker in my sights, eased the acceleration up to onegee, relaxed to watch the radar screen while I thought over my comingordeal with McGuire.     Testing spaceships, robotic or any other kind, is strictly not mybusiness. The sign on the door of my office in New York says:      DANIELOAK, Confidential Expediter     ; I'm hired to help other people Get ThingsDone. Usually, if someone came to me with the problem of getting aspaceship test-piloted, I'd simply dig up the best test pilot in thebusiness, hire him for my client, and forget about everything butcollecting my fee. But I couldn't have refused this case if I'd wantedto. I'd already been assigned to it by someone a lot more importantthan Shalimar Ravenhurst.     Every schoolchild who has taken a course in Government Organization andFunction can tell you that the Political Survey Division is a branch ofthe System Census Bureau of the UN Government, and that its job is toevaluate the political activities of  [12]  various sub-governments all overthe System.     And every one of those poor tykes would be dead wrong.     The Political Survey Division      does     evaluate political activity, allright, but it is the Secret Service of the UN Government. The vastmajority of  [13]  the System's citizens don't even know the Government hasa Secret Service. I happen to know only because I'm an agent of thePolitical Survey Division.     The PSD was vitally interested in the whole McGuire project. Robots ofMcGuire's complexity had been built before; the robot that runs thetraffic patterns of the American Eastern Seaboard is just as capableas McGuire when it comes to handling a tremendous number of variablesand making decisions on them. But that robot didn't have to be givenorders except in extreme emergencies. Keeping a few million cars movingand safe at the same time is actually pretty routine stuff for a robot.And a traffic robot isn't given orders verbally; it is given any ordersthat may be necessary via teletype by a trained programming technician.Those orders are usually in reference to a change of routing due torepair work on the highways or the like. The robot itself can take careof such emergencies as bad weather or even an accident caused by themalfunctioning of an individual automobile.     McGuire was different. In the first place, he was mobile. He was incommand of a spacecraft. In a sense, he      was     the spacecraft, since itserved him in a way that was analogous to the way a human body servesthe human mind. And he wasn't in charge of millions of objects with atop velocity of a hundred and fifty miles an hour; he was in chargeof a single object that moved at velocities of thousands of miles persecond. Nor  [14]  did he have a set, unmoving highway as his path; his pathswere variable and led through the emptiness of space.     Unforeseen emergencies can happen at any time in space, most of themhaving to do with the lives of passengers. A cargo ship would besomewhat less susceptible to such emergencies if there were no humansaboard; it doesn't matter much to a robot if he has no air in his hull.     But with passengers aboard, there may be times when it would benecessary to give orders—      fast     ! And that means verbal orders, ordersthat can be given anywhere in the ship and relayed immediately bymicrophone to the robot's brain. A man doesn't have time to run to ateletyper and type out orders when there's an emergency in space.     That meant that McGuire had to understand English, and, since there hasto be feedback in communication, he had to be able to speak it as well.     And that made McGuire more than somewhat difficult to deal with.  <doc-sep>   DR. KOMETEVSKY'S DAY     By FRITZ LEIBER     Illustrated by DAVID STONE     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction February 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]         Before science, there was superstition. After       science, there will be ... what? The biggest,       most staggering     , most final      fact of them all!        But it's all predicted here! It even names this century for the nextreshuffling of the planets.     Celeste Wolver looked up unwillingly at the book her friend MadgeCarnap held aloft like a torch. She made out the ill-stamped title,      The Dance of the Planets     . There was no mistaking the time ofits origin; only paper from the Twentieth Century aged to thatparticularly nasty shade of brown. Indeed, the book seemed to Celestea brown old witch resurrected from the Last Age of Madness to confounda world growing sane, and she couldn't help shrinking back a trifletoward her husband Theodor.     He tried to come to her rescue. Only predicted in the vaguest way. AsI understand it, Kometevsky claimed, on the basis of a lot of evidencedrawn from folklore, that the planets and their moons trade positionsevery so often.     As if they were playing Going to Jerusalem, or musical chairs,Celeste chimed in, but she couldn't make it sound funny.     Jupiter was supposed to have started as the outermost planet, and isto end up in the orbit of Mercury, Theodor continued. Well, nothingat all like that has happened.     But it's begun, Madge said with conviction. Phobos and Deimos havedisappeared. You can't argue away that stubborn little fact.     That was the trouble; you couldn't. Mars' two tiny moons had simplyvanished during a period when, as was generally the case, the eyesof astronomy weren't on them. Just some hundred-odd cubic miles ofrock—the merest cosmic flyspecks—yet they had carried away with themthe security of a whole world.  <doc-sep>It took three weeks to make the return trip to Swamp City. The Varsoomfollowed us far beyond the frontier of their country like an unseenarmy in the throes of laughing gas. Not until we reached Level Five didthe last chuckle fade into the distance.     All during that trek back, Grannie sat in the dugout, staring silentlyout before her.     But when we reached Swamp City, the news was flung at us from allsides. One newspaper headline accurately told the story: DOCTORUNIVERSE BID FOR SYSTEM DICTATORSHIP SQUELCHED BY RIDICULE OF UNSEENAUDIENCE. QUIZ MASTER NOW IN HANDS OF I.P. COUP FAILURE.     Grannie, I said that night as we sat again in a rear booth of THEJET, what are you going to do now? Give up writing science fiction?     She looked at me soberly, then broke into a smile.     Just because some silly form of life that can't even be seen doesn'tappreciate it? I should say not. Right now I've got an idea for a swellyarn about Mars. Want to come along while I dig up some backgroundmaterial?     I shook my head. Not me, I said.     But I knew I would.   <doc-sep>   CALL HIM NEMESIS     By DONALD E. WESTLAKE     Criminals, beware; the Scorpion is on     your trail! Hoodlums fear his fury—and,     for that matter, so do the cops!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The man with the handkerchief mask said, All right, everybody, keeptight. This is a holdup.     There were twelve people in the bank. There was Mr. Featherhall athis desk, refusing to okay a personal check from a perfect stranger.There was the perfect stranger, an itinerant garage mechanic namedRodney (Rod) Strom, like the check said. There were Miss English andMiss Philicoff, the girls in the gilded teller cages. There was MisterAnderson, the guard, dozing by the door in his brown uniform. There wasMrs. Elizabeth Clayhorn, depositing her husband's pay check in theirjoint checking account, and with her was her ten-year-old son Edward(Eddie) Clayhorn, Junior. There was Charlie Casale, getting ten dollarsdimes, six dollars nickels and four dollars pennies for his fatherin the grocery store down the street. There was Mrs. Dolly Daniels,withdrawing money from her savings account again. And there were threebank robbers.     The three bank robbers looked like triplets. From the ground up, theyall wore scuffy black shoes, baggy-kneed and unpressed khaki trousers,brown cracked-leather jackets over flannel shirts, white handkerchiefsover the lower half of their faces and gray-and-white check caps pulledlow over their eyes. The eyes themselves looked dangerous.     The man who had spoken withdrew a small but mean-looking thirty-twocalibre pistol from his jacket pocket. He waved it menacingly. One ofthe others took the pistol away from Mister Anderson, the guard, andsaid to him in a low voice, Think about retirement, my friend. Thethird one, who carried a black satchel like a doctor's bag, walkedquickly around behind the teller's counter and started filling it withmoney.     It was just like the movies.     The man who had first spoken herded the tellers, Mr. Featherhall andthe customers all over against the back wall, while the second manstayed next to Mr. Anderson and the door. The third man stuffed moneyinto the black satchel.     The man by the door said, Hurry up.     The man with the satchel said, One more drawer.     The man with the gun turned to say to the man at the door, Keep yourshirt on.     That was all Miss English needed. She kicked off her shoes and ranpelting in her stocking feet for the door.  <doc-sep>   Yesterday House     By FRITZ LEIBER     Illustrated by ASHMAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction August 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Meeting someone who's been dead for twenty       years is shocking enough for anyone with a       belief in ghosts—worse for one with none!        I     The narrow cove was quiet as the face of an expectant child, yet sonear the ruffled Atlantic that the last push of wind carried the      AnnieO.     its full length. The man in gray flannels and sweatshirt let thesail come crumpling down and hurried past its white folds at a gaitmade comically awkward by his cramped muscles. Slowly the rocky ledgecame nearer. Slowly the blue V inscribed on the cove's surface by thesloop's prow died. Sloop and ledge kissed so gently that he hardly hadto reach out his hand.     He scrambled ashore, dipping a sneaker in the icy water, and threw theline around a boulder. Unkinking himself, he looked back through thecove's high and rocky mouth at the gray-green scattering of islandsand the faint dark line that was the coast of Maine. He almost laughedin satisfaction at having disregarded vague warnings and done the thingevery man yearns to do once in his lifetime—gone to the farthestisland out.     He must have looked longer than he realized, because by the time hedropped his gaze the cove was again as glassy as if the      Annie O.     hadalways been there. And the splotches made by his sneaker on the rockhad faded in the hot sun. There was something very unusual about thequietness of this place. As if time, elsewhere hurrying frantically,paused here to rest. As if all changes were erased on this one bit ofEarth.     The man's lean, melancholy face crinkled into a grin at the banalfancy. He turned his back on his new friend, the little green sloop,without one thought for his nets and specimen bottles, and set out toexplore. The ground rose steeply at first and the oaks were close, butafter a little way things went downhill and the leaves thinned and hecame out on more rocks—and realized that he hadn't quite gone to thefarthest one out.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the connection between Ravenhurst and Daniel Oak in HIS MASTER'S VOICE ANALOG SCIENCE FACT · SCIENCE FICTION?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is a flitterboat and in what situations is it utilized? (related to HIS MASTER'S VOICE ANALOG SCIENCE FACT · SCIENCE FICTION) [SEP] <s>  Transcriber's Note:   This etext was produced from Analog March 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.    ILLUSTRATED     BY     KRENKEL        HIS MASTER'S VOICE     ANALOG SCIENCE FACT · SCIENCE FICTION       Spaceship McGuire had lots of knowledge—but no wisdom. He wassmart—but incredibly foolish. And, as a natural consequence, tended toask questions too profound for any philosopher—questions like Who areyou?     By RANDALL GARRETT      I'd been in Ravenhurst's office on the mountain-sized planetoid calledRaven's Rest only twice before. The third time was no better; ShalimarRavenhurst was one of the smartest operators in the Belt, but when itcame to personal relationships, he was utterly incompetent. He couldmake anyone dislike him without trying.     When I entered the office, he was  [3]  sitting behind his mahogany desk,his eyes focused on the operation he was going through with a wineglassand a decanter. He didn't look up at me as he said:     Sit down, Mr. Oak. Will you have some Madeira?     I decided I might as well observe the pleasantries. There was no pointin my getting nasty until he did. Thank you, Mr. Ravenhurst, I will.     He kept his eyes focused on his work: It isn't easy to pour wine on aplanetoid where the gee-pull is measured in fractions of a centimeterper second squared. It moves slowly, like ropy molasses, but you haveto be careful not to be fooled by that. The viscosity is just as lowas ever, and if you pour it from any great height, it will go scootingright out of the glass  [4]  again. The momentum it builds up is enough tomake it splash right out again in a slow-motion gush which gets it allover the place.     Besides which, even if it didn't splash, it would take it so long tofall a few inches that you'd die of thirst waiting for it.     Ravenhurst had evolved a technique from long years of practice.He tilted the glass and the bottle toward each other, their edgestouching, like you do when you're trying to pour beer without putting ahead on it. As soon as the wine wet the glass, the adhesive forces atwork would pull more wine into the wine glass. To get capillary actionon a low-gee asteroid, you don't need a capillary, by any means. Thenegative meniscus on the wine was something to see; the first timeyou see it, you get the eerie feeling that the glass is spinning andthrowing the wine up against the walls by centrifugal force.     I took the glass he offered me (Careful! Don't slosh!) and sipped atit. Using squirt tubes would have been a hell of a lot easier andneater, but Ravenhurst liked to do things his way.     He put the stopper back in the decanter, picked up his own glass andsipped appreciatively. Not until he put it back down on the desk againdid he raise his eyes and look at me for the first time since I'd comein.     Mr. Oak, you have caused me considerable trouble.     I thought we'd hashed all that out, Mr. Ravenhurst, I said, keepingmy voice level.     [5]     So had I. But it appears that there were more ramifications to youraction than we had at first supposed. His voice had the texture ofheavy linseed oil.     He waited, as if he expected me to make some reply to that. WhenI didn't, he sighed slightly and went on. I fear that you haveinadvertently sabotaged McGuire. You were commissioned to preventsabotage, Mr. Oak, and I'm afraid that you abrogated your contract.     I just continued to keep my voice calm. If you are trying to get backthe fee you gave me, we can always take it to court. I don't thinkyou'd win.     Mr. Oak, he said heavily, I am not a fool, regardless of what yourown impression may be. If I were trying to get back that fee, I wouldhardly offer to pay you another one.     I didn't think he was a fool. You don't get into the managerialbusiness and climb to the top and stay there unless you have brains.Ravenhurst was smart, all right; it was just that, when it came topersonal relationships, he wasn't very wise.     Then stop all this yak about an abrogated contract and get to thepoint, I told him.     I shall. I was merely trying to point out to you that it is throughyour own actions that I find myself in a very trying position, and thatyour sense of honor and ethics should induce you to rectify the damage.     My honor and ethics are in fine shape, I said, but my interpretationof the concepts might not be quite  [6]  the same as yours. Get to thepoint.     He took another sip of Madeira. The robotocists at Viking tellme that, in order to prevent any further ... ah ... sabotage byunauthorized persons, the MGYR-7 was constructed so that, afteractivation, the first man who addressed orders to it would thenceforthbe considered its ... ah ... master.     As I understand it, the problem of defining the term 'human being'unambiguously to a robot is still unsolved. The robotocists felt thatit would be much easier to define a single individual. That wouldprevent the issuing of conflicting orders to a robot, provided thesingle individual were careful in giving orders himself.     Now, it appears that      you     , Mr. Oak, were the first man to speak toMcGuire after he had been activated. Is that correct?     Is that question purely rhetorical, I asked him, putting on my bestexpression of innocent interest. Or are you losing your memory? I hadexplained all that to him two weeks before, when I'd brought McGuireand the girl here, so that Ravenhurst would have a chance to cover upwhat had really happened.  <doc-sep>   AIDE MEMOIRE     BY KEITH LAUMER     The Fustians looked like turtles—but     they could move fast when they chose!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Across the table from Retief, Ambassador Magnan rustled a stiff sheetof parchment and looked grave.     This aide memoire, he said, was just handed to me by the CulturalAttache. It's the third on the subject this week. It refers to thematter of sponsorship of Youth groups—     Some youths, Retief said. Average age, seventy-five.     The Fustians are a long-lived people, Magnan snapped. These mattersare relative. At seventy-five, a male Fustian is at a trying age—     That's right. He'll try anything—in the hope it will maim somebody.     Precisely the problem, Magnan said. But the Youth Movement isthe important news in today's political situation here on Fust. Andsponsorship of Youth groups is a shrewd stroke on the part of theTerrestrial Embassy. At my suggestion, well nigh every member of themission has leaped at the opportunity to score a few p—that is, cementrelations with this emergent power group—the leaders of the future.You, Retief, as Councillor, are the outstanding exception.     I'm not convinced these hoodlums need my help in organizing theirrumbles, Retief said. Now, if you have a proposal for a pest controlgroup—     To the Fustians this is no jesting matter, Magnan cut in. Thisgroup— he glanced at the paper—known as the Sexual, Cultural, andAthletic Recreational Society, or SCARS for short, has been awaitingsponsorship for a matter of weeks now.     Meaning they want someone to buy them a clubhouse, uniforms, equipmentand anything else they need to complete their sexual, cultural andathletic development, Retief said.     If we don't act promptly, Magnan said, the Groaci Embassy may wellanticipate us. They're very active here.     That's an idea, said Retief. Let 'em. After awhile they'll go brokeinstead of us.     Nonsense. The group requires a sponsor. I can't actually order you tostep forward. However.... Magnan let the sentence hang in the air.Retief raised one eyebrow.     For a minute there, he said, I thought you were going to make apositive statement.  <doc-sep>Ten minutes later, I was in my vacuum suit, walking across the glaring,rough-polished rectangle of metal that was the landing field ofRaven's Rest. The sun was near the zenith in the black, diamond-dustedsky, and the shadow of my flitterboat stood out like an inkblot ona bridal gown. I climbed in, started the engine, and released themagnetic anchor that held the little boat to the surface of thenickel-iron planetoid. I lifted her gently, worked her around until Iwas stationary in relation to the spinning planetoid, oriented myselfagainst the stellar background, and headed toward the first blinkerbeacon on my way to Ceres.     For obvious economical reasons, it it impracticable to use full-sizedspaceships in the Belt. A flitterboat, with a single gravitoinertialengine and the few necessities of life—air, some water, and a verylittle food—still costs more than a Rolls-Royce  [11]  automobile does onEarth, but there has to be some sort of individual transportation inthe Belt.     They can't be used for any great distances because a man can't stayin a vac suit very long without getting uncomfortable. You have tohop from beacon to beacon, which means that your      average     velocitydoesn't amount to much, since you spend too much time acceleratingand decelerating. But a flitterboat is enough to get around theneighborhood in, and that's all that's needed.     I got the GM-187 blinker in my sights, eased the acceleration up to onegee, relaxed to watch the radar screen while I thought over my comingordeal with McGuire.     Testing spaceships, robotic or any other kind, is strictly not mybusiness. The sign on the door of my office in New York says:      DANIELOAK, Confidential Expediter     ; I'm hired to help other people Get ThingsDone. Usually, if someone came to me with the problem of getting aspaceship test-piloted, I'd simply dig up the best test pilot in thebusiness, hire him for my client, and forget about everything butcollecting my fee. But I couldn't have refused this case if I'd wantedto. I'd already been assigned to it by someone a lot more importantthan Shalimar Ravenhurst.     Every schoolchild who has taken a course in Government Organization andFunction can tell you that the Political Survey Division is a branch ofthe System Census Bureau of the UN Government, and that its job is toevaluate the political activities of  [12]  various sub-governments all overthe System.     And every one of those poor tykes would be dead wrong.     The Political Survey Division      does     evaluate political activity, allright, but it is the Secret Service of the UN Government. The vastmajority of  [13]  the System's citizens don't even know the Government hasa Secret Service. I happen to know only because I'm an agent of thePolitical Survey Division.     The PSD was vitally interested in the whole McGuire project. Robots ofMcGuire's complexity had been built before; the robot that runs thetraffic patterns of the American Eastern Seaboard is just as capableas McGuire when it comes to handling a tremendous number of variablesand making decisions on them. But that robot didn't have to be givenorders except in extreme emergencies. Keeping a few million cars movingand safe at the same time is actually pretty routine stuff for a robot.And a traffic robot isn't given orders verbally; it is given any ordersthat may be necessary via teletype by a trained programming technician.Those orders are usually in reference to a change of routing due torepair work on the highways or the like. The robot itself can take careof such emergencies as bad weather or even an accident caused by themalfunctioning of an individual automobile.     McGuire was different. In the first place, he was mobile. He was incommand of a spacecraft. In a sense, he      was     the spacecraft, since itserved him in a way that was analogous to the way a human body servesthe human mind. And he wasn't in charge of millions of objects with atop velocity of a hundred and fifty miles an hour; he was in chargeof a single object that moved at velocities of thousands of miles persecond. Nor  [14]  did he have a set, unmoving highway as his path; his pathswere variable and led through the emptiness of space.     Unforeseen emergencies can happen at any time in space, most of themhaving to do with the lives of passengers. A cargo ship would besomewhat less susceptible to such emergencies if there were no humansaboard; it doesn't matter much to a robot if he has no air in his hull.     But with passengers aboard, there may be times when it would benecessary to give orders—      fast     ! And that means verbal orders, ordersthat can be given anywhere in the ship and relayed immediately bymicrophone to the robot's brain. A man doesn't have time to run to ateletyper and type out orders when there's an emergency in space.     That meant that McGuire had to understand English, and, since there hasto be feedback in communication, he had to be able to speak it as well.     And that made McGuire more than somewhat difficult to deal with.  <doc-sep>   DR. KOMETEVSKY'S DAY     By FRITZ LEIBER     Illustrated by DAVID STONE     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction February 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]         Before science, there was superstition. After       science, there will be ... what? The biggest,       most staggering     , most final      fact of them all!        But it's all predicted here! It even names this century for the nextreshuffling of the planets.     Celeste Wolver looked up unwillingly at the book her friend MadgeCarnap held aloft like a torch. She made out the ill-stamped title,      The Dance of the Planets     . There was no mistaking the time ofits origin; only paper from the Twentieth Century aged to thatparticularly nasty shade of brown. Indeed, the book seemed to Celestea brown old witch resurrected from the Last Age of Madness to confounda world growing sane, and she couldn't help shrinking back a trifletoward her husband Theodor.     He tried to come to her rescue. Only predicted in the vaguest way. AsI understand it, Kometevsky claimed, on the basis of a lot of evidencedrawn from folklore, that the planets and their moons trade positionsevery so often.     As if they were playing Going to Jerusalem, or musical chairs,Celeste chimed in, but she couldn't make it sound funny.     Jupiter was supposed to have started as the outermost planet, and isto end up in the orbit of Mercury, Theodor continued. Well, nothingat all like that has happened.     But it's begun, Madge said with conviction. Phobos and Deimos havedisappeared. You can't argue away that stubborn little fact.     That was the trouble; you couldn't. Mars' two tiny moons had simplyvanished during a period when, as was generally the case, the eyesof astronomy weren't on them. Just some hundred-odd cubic miles ofrock—the merest cosmic flyspecks—yet they had carried away with themthe security of a whole world.  <doc-sep>It took three weeks to make the return trip to Swamp City. The Varsoomfollowed us far beyond the frontier of their country like an unseenarmy in the throes of laughing gas. Not until we reached Level Five didthe last chuckle fade into the distance.     All during that trek back, Grannie sat in the dugout, staring silentlyout before her.     But when we reached Swamp City, the news was flung at us from allsides. One newspaper headline accurately told the story: DOCTORUNIVERSE BID FOR SYSTEM DICTATORSHIP SQUELCHED BY RIDICULE OF UNSEENAUDIENCE. QUIZ MASTER NOW IN HANDS OF I.P. COUP FAILURE.     Grannie, I said that night as we sat again in a rear booth of THEJET, what are you going to do now? Give up writing science fiction?     She looked at me soberly, then broke into a smile.     Just because some silly form of life that can't even be seen doesn'tappreciate it? I should say not. Right now I've got an idea for a swellyarn about Mars. Want to come along while I dig up some backgroundmaterial?     I shook my head. Not me, I said.     But I knew I would.   <doc-sep>   RETIEF OF THE RED-TAPE MOUNTAIN     by KEITH LAUMER     Retief knew the importance of sealed     orders—and the need to keep them that way!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, May 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      It's true, Consul Passwyn said, I requested assignment as principalofficer at a small post. But I had in mind one of those charming resortworlds, with only an occasional visa problem, or perhaps a distressedspaceman or two a year. Instead, I'm zoo-keeper to these confoundedsettlers. And not for one world, mind you, but eight! He stared glumlyat Vice-Consul Retief.     Still, Retief said, it gives an opportunity to travel—     Travel! the consul barked. I hate travel. Here in this backwatersystem particularly— He paused, blinked at Retief and cleared histhroat. Not that a bit of travel isn't an excellent thing for ajunior officer. Marvelous experience.     He turned to the wall-screen and pressed a button. A system triagramappeared: eight luminous green dots arranged around a larger diskrepresenting the primary. He picked up a pointer, indicating theinnermost planet.     The situation on Adobe is nearing crisis. The confounded settlers—amere handful of them—have managed, as usual, to stir up trouble withan intelligent indigenous life form, the Jaq. I can't think why theybother, merely for a few oases among the endless deserts. However Ihave, at last, received authorization from Sector Headquarters totake certain action. He swung back to face Retief. I'm sending youin to handle the situation, Retief—under sealed orders. He pickedup a fat buff envelope. A pity they didn't see fit to order theTerrestrial settlers out weeks ago, as I suggested. Now it is too late.I'm expected to produce a miracle—a rapprochement between Terrestrialand Adoban and a division of territory. It's idiotic. However, failurewould look very bad in my record, so I shall expect results.     He passed the buff envelope across to Retief.     I understood that Adobe was uninhabited, Retief said, until theTerrestrial settlers arrived.     Apparently, that was an erroneous impression. Passwyn fixed Retiefwith a watery eye. You'll follow your instructions to the letter. In adelicate situation such as this, there must be no impulsive, impromptuelement introduced. This approach has been worked out in detail atSector. You need merely implement it. Is that entirely clear?     Has anyone at Headquarters ever visited Adobe?     Of course not. They all hate travel. If there are no other questions,you'd best be on your way. The mail run departs the dome in less thanan hour.     What's this native life form like? Retief asked, getting to his feet.     When you get back, said Passwyn, you tell me.  <doc-sep>   CULTURAL EXCHANGE     BY KEITH LAUMER     It was a simple student exchange—but     Retief gave them more of     an education than they expected!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      I     Second Secretary Magnan took his green-lined cape and orange-featheredberet from the clothes tree. I'm off now, Retief, he said. I hopeyou'll manage the administrative routine during my absence without anyunfortunate incidents.     That seems a modest enough hope, Retief said. I'll try to live up toit.     I don't appreciate frivolity with reference to this Division, Magnansaid testily. When I first came here, the Manpower UtilizationDirectorate, Division of Libraries and Education was a shambles. Ifancy I've made MUDDLE what it is today. Frankly, I question thewisdom of placing you in charge of such a sensitive desk, even for twoweeks. But remember. Yours is purely a rubber-stamp function.     In that case, let's leave it to Miss Furkle. I'll take a couple ofweeks off myself. With her poundage, she could bring plenty of pressureto bear.     I assume you jest, Retief, Magnan said sadly. I should expect evenyou to appreciate that Bogan participation in the Exchange Program maybe the first step toward sublimation of their aggressions into morecultivated channels.     I see they're sending two thousand students to d'Land, Retief said,glancing at the Memo for Record. That's a sizable sublimation.     Magnan nodded. The Bogans have launched no less than four militarycampaigns in the last two decades. They're known as the Hoodlums ofthe Nicodemean Cluster. Now, perhaps, we shall see them breaking thatprecedent and entering into the cultural life of the Galaxy.     Breaking and entering, Retief said. You may have something there.But I'm wondering what they'll study on d'Land. That's an industrialworld of the poor but honest variety.     Academic details are the affair of the students and their professors,Magnan said. Our function is merely to bring them together. Seethat you don't antagonize the Bogan representative. This willbe an excellent opportunity for you to practice your diplomaticrestraint—not your strong point, I'm sure you'll agree.     A buzzer sounded. Retief punched a button. What is it, Miss Furkle?     That—bucolic person from Lovenbroy is here again. On the small deskscreen, Miss Furkle's meaty features were compressed in disapproval.     This fellow's a confounded pest. I'll leave him to you, Retief,Magnan said. Tell him something. Get rid of him. And remember: hereat Corps HQ, all eyes are upon you.     If I'd thought of that, I'd have worn my other suit, Retief said.     Magnan snorted and passed from view. Retief punched Miss Furkle'sbutton.     Send the bucolic person in.  <doc-sep>I didn't like the looks of the guy any more than the looks of theplace. I've been told you can supply me with a—     He coughed. Yes, yes. I understand. It might be possible. He fingeredhis mustache and regarded me from pouchy eyes. Busy executives oftencome to us to avoid the—ah—unpleasantness of formal arrangements.Naturally, we only act as agents, you might say. We never see themerchandise ourselves— He wiped his hands on his trousers. Now wereyou interested in the ordinary Utility model, Mr. Faircloth?     I assumed he was just being polite. You didn't come to the back doorfor Utility models.     Or perhaps you'd require one of our Deluxe models. Very carefulworkmanship. Only a few key Paralyzers in operation and practicallycomplete circuit duplication. Very useful for—ah—close contact work,you know. Social engagements, conferences—     I was shaking my head. I want a      Super     Deluxe model, I told him.     He grinned and winked. Ah, indeed! You want perfect duplication.Yes, indeed. Domestic situations can be—awkward, shall we say. Veryawkward—     I gave him a cold stare. I couldn't see where my domestic problems wereany affairs of his. He got the idea and hurried me back to a storeroom.     We keep a few blanks here for the basic measurement. You'll go to ourlaboratory on 14th Street to have the minute impressions taken. But Ican assure you you'll be delighted, simply delighted.     The blanks weren't very impressive—clay and putty and steel, faceless,brainless. He went over me like a tailor, checking measurements of allsorts. He was thorough—embarrassingly thorough, in fact—but finallyhe was finished. I went on to the laboratory.     And that was all there was to it.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is a flitterboat and in what situations is it utilized? (related to HIS MASTER'S VOICE ANALOG SCIENCE FACT · SCIENCE FICTION)","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What are the differences between the current and previous versions of McGuire and why do they matter, as related to the story ""His Master's Voice"" in Analog Science Fact · Science Fiction? [SEP] <s>  Transcriber's Note:   This etext was produced from Analog March 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.    ILLUSTRATED     BY     KRENKEL        HIS MASTER'S VOICE     ANALOG SCIENCE FACT · SCIENCE FICTION       Spaceship McGuire had lots of knowledge—but no wisdom. He wassmart—but incredibly foolish. And, as a natural consequence, tended toask questions too profound for any philosopher—questions like Who areyou?     By RANDALL GARRETT      I'd been in Ravenhurst's office on the mountain-sized planetoid calledRaven's Rest only twice before. The third time was no better; ShalimarRavenhurst was one of the smartest operators in the Belt, but when itcame to personal relationships, he was utterly incompetent. He couldmake anyone dislike him without trying.     When I entered the office, he was  [3]  sitting behind his mahogany desk,his eyes focused on the operation he was going through with a wineglassand a decanter. He didn't look up at me as he said:     Sit down, Mr. Oak. Will you have some Madeira?     I decided I might as well observe the pleasantries. There was no pointin my getting nasty until he did. Thank you, Mr. Ravenhurst, I will.     He kept his eyes focused on his work: It isn't easy to pour wine on aplanetoid where the gee-pull is measured in fractions of a centimeterper second squared. It moves slowly, like ropy molasses, but you haveto be careful not to be fooled by that. The viscosity is just as lowas ever, and if you pour it from any great height, it will go scootingright out of the glass  [4]  again. The momentum it builds up is enough tomake it splash right out again in a slow-motion gush which gets it allover the place.     Besides which, even if it didn't splash, it would take it so long tofall a few inches that you'd die of thirst waiting for it.     Ravenhurst had evolved a technique from long years of practice.He tilted the glass and the bottle toward each other, their edgestouching, like you do when you're trying to pour beer without putting ahead on it. As soon as the wine wet the glass, the adhesive forces atwork would pull more wine into the wine glass. To get capillary actionon a low-gee asteroid, you don't need a capillary, by any means. Thenegative meniscus on the wine was something to see; the first timeyou see it, you get the eerie feeling that the glass is spinning andthrowing the wine up against the walls by centrifugal force.     I took the glass he offered me (Careful! Don't slosh!) and sipped atit. Using squirt tubes would have been a hell of a lot easier andneater, but Ravenhurst liked to do things his way.     He put the stopper back in the decanter, picked up his own glass andsipped appreciatively. Not until he put it back down on the desk againdid he raise his eyes and look at me for the first time since I'd comein.     Mr. Oak, you have caused me considerable trouble.     I thought we'd hashed all that out, Mr. Ravenhurst, I said, keepingmy voice level.     [5]     So had I. But it appears that there were more ramifications to youraction than we had at first supposed. His voice had the texture ofheavy linseed oil.     He waited, as if he expected me to make some reply to that. WhenI didn't, he sighed slightly and went on. I fear that you haveinadvertently sabotaged McGuire. You were commissioned to preventsabotage, Mr. Oak, and I'm afraid that you abrogated your contract.     I just continued to keep my voice calm. If you are trying to get backthe fee you gave me, we can always take it to court. I don't thinkyou'd win.     Mr. Oak, he said heavily, I am not a fool, regardless of what yourown impression may be. If I were trying to get back that fee, I wouldhardly offer to pay you another one.     I didn't think he was a fool. You don't get into the managerialbusiness and climb to the top and stay there unless you have brains.Ravenhurst was smart, all right; it was just that, when it came topersonal relationships, he wasn't very wise.     Then stop all this yak about an abrogated contract and get to thepoint, I told him.     I shall. I was merely trying to point out to you that it is throughyour own actions that I find myself in a very trying position, and thatyour sense of honor and ethics should induce you to rectify the damage.     My honor and ethics are in fine shape, I said, but my interpretationof the concepts might not be quite  [6]  the same as yours. Get to thepoint.     He took another sip of Madeira. The robotocists at Viking tellme that, in order to prevent any further ... ah ... sabotage byunauthorized persons, the MGYR-7 was constructed so that, afteractivation, the first man who addressed orders to it would thenceforthbe considered its ... ah ... master.     As I understand it, the problem of defining the term 'human being'unambiguously to a robot is still unsolved. The robotocists felt thatit would be much easier to define a single individual. That wouldprevent the issuing of conflicting orders to a robot, provided thesingle individual were careful in giving orders himself.     Now, it appears that      you     , Mr. Oak, were the first man to speak toMcGuire after he had been activated. Is that correct?     Is that question purely rhetorical, I asked him, putting on my bestexpression of innocent interest. Or are you losing your memory? I hadexplained all that to him two weeks before, when I'd brought McGuireand the girl here, so that Ravenhurst would have a chance to cover upwhat had really happened.  <doc-sep>Ten minutes later, I was in my vacuum suit, walking across the glaring,rough-polished rectangle of metal that was the landing field ofRaven's Rest. The sun was near the zenith in the black, diamond-dustedsky, and the shadow of my flitterboat stood out like an inkblot ona bridal gown. I climbed in, started the engine, and released themagnetic anchor that held the little boat to the surface of thenickel-iron planetoid. I lifted her gently, worked her around until Iwas stationary in relation to the spinning planetoid, oriented myselfagainst the stellar background, and headed toward the first blinkerbeacon on my way to Ceres.     For obvious economical reasons, it it impracticable to use full-sizedspaceships in the Belt. A flitterboat, with a single gravitoinertialengine and the few necessities of life—air, some water, and a verylittle food—still costs more than a Rolls-Royce  [11]  automobile does onEarth, but there has to be some sort of individual transportation inthe Belt.     They can't be used for any great distances because a man can't stayin a vac suit very long without getting uncomfortable. You have tohop from beacon to beacon, which means that your      average     velocitydoesn't amount to much, since you spend too much time acceleratingand decelerating. But a flitterboat is enough to get around theneighborhood in, and that's all that's needed.     I got the GM-187 blinker in my sights, eased the acceleration up to onegee, relaxed to watch the radar screen while I thought over my comingordeal with McGuire.     Testing spaceships, robotic or any other kind, is strictly not mybusiness. The sign on the door of my office in New York says:      DANIELOAK, Confidential Expediter     ; I'm hired to help other people Get ThingsDone. Usually, if someone came to me with the problem of getting aspaceship test-piloted, I'd simply dig up the best test pilot in thebusiness, hire him for my client, and forget about everything butcollecting my fee. But I couldn't have refused this case if I'd wantedto. I'd already been assigned to it by someone a lot more importantthan Shalimar Ravenhurst.     Every schoolchild who has taken a course in Government Organization andFunction can tell you that the Political Survey Division is a branch ofthe System Census Bureau of the UN Government, and that its job is toevaluate the political activities of  [12]  various sub-governments all overthe System.     And every one of those poor tykes would be dead wrong.     The Political Survey Division      does     evaluate political activity, allright, but it is the Secret Service of the UN Government. The vastmajority of  [13]  the System's citizens don't even know the Government hasa Secret Service. I happen to know only because I'm an agent of thePolitical Survey Division.     The PSD was vitally interested in the whole McGuire project. Robots ofMcGuire's complexity had been built before; the robot that runs thetraffic patterns of the American Eastern Seaboard is just as capableas McGuire when it comes to handling a tremendous number of variablesand making decisions on them. But that robot didn't have to be givenorders except in extreme emergencies. Keeping a few million cars movingand safe at the same time is actually pretty routine stuff for a robot.And a traffic robot isn't given orders verbally; it is given any ordersthat may be necessary via teletype by a trained programming technician.Those orders are usually in reference to a change of routing due torepair work on the highways or the like. The robot itself can take careof such emergencies as bad weather or even an accident caused by themalfunctioning of an individual automobile.     McGuire was different. In the first place, he was mobile. He was incommand of a spacecraft. In a sense, he      was     the spacecraft, since itserved him in a way that was analogous to the way a human body servesthe human mind. And he wasn't in charge of millions of objects with atop velocity of a hundred and fifty miles an hour; he was in chargeof a single object that moved at velocities of thousands of miles persecond. Nor  [14]  did he have a set, unmoving highway as his path; his pathswere variable and led through the emptiness of space.     Unforeseen emergencies can happen at any time in space, most of themhaving to do with the lives of passengers. A cargo ship would besomewhat less susceptible to such emergencies if there were no humansaboard; it doesn't matter much to a robot if he has no air in his hull.     But with passengers aboard, there may be times when it would benecessary to give orders—      fast     ! And that means verbal orders, ordersthat can be given anywhere in the ship and relayed immediately bymicrophone to the robot's brain. A man doesn't have time to run to ateletyper and type out orders when there's an emergency in space.     That meant that McGuire had to understand English, and, since there hasto be feedback in communication, he had to be able to speak it as well.     And that made McGuire more than somewhat difficult to deal with.  <doc-sep>   AIDE MEMOIRE     BY KEITH LAUMER     The Fustians looked like turtles—but     they could move fast when they chose!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Across the table from Retief, Ambassador Magnan rustled a stiff sheetof parchment and looked grave.     This aide memoire, he said, was just handed to me by the CulturalAttache. It's the third on the subject this week. It refers to thematter of sponsorship of Youth groups—     Some youths, Retief said. Average age, seventy-five.     The Fustians are a long-lived people, Magnan snapped. These mattersare relative. At seventy-five, a male Fustian is at a trying age—     That's right. He'll try anything—in the hope it will maim somebody.     Precisely the problem, Magnan said. But the Youth Movement isthe important news in today's political situation here on Fust. Andsponsorship of Youth groups is a shrewd stroke on the part of theTerrestrial Embassy. At my suggestion, well nigh every member of themission has leaped at the opportunity to score a few p—that is, cementrelations with this emergent power group—the leaders of the future.You, Retief, as Councillor, are the outstanding exception.     I'm not convinced these hoodlums need my help in organizing theirrumbles, Retief said. Now, if you have a proposal for a pest controlgroup—     To the Fustians this is no jesting matter, Magnan cut in. Thisgroup— he glanced at the paper—known as the Sexual, Cultural, andAthletic Recreational Society, or SCARS for short, has been awaitingsponsorship for a matter of weeks now.     Meaning they want someone to buy them a clubhouse, uniforms, equipmentand anything else they need to complete their sexual, cultural andathletic development, Retief said.     If we don't act promptly, Magnan said, the Groaci Embassy may wellanticipate us. They're very active here.     That's an idea, said Retief. Let 'em. After awhile they'll go brokeinstead of us.     Nonsense. The group requires a sponsor. I can't actually order you tostep forward. However.... Magnan let the sentence hang in the air.Retief raised one eyebrow.     For a minute there, he said, I thought you were going to make apositive statement.  <doc-sep>   DR. KOMETEVSKY'S DAY     By FRITZ LEIBER     Illustrated by DAVID STONE     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction February 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]         Before science, there was superstition. After       science, there will be ... what? The biggest,       most staggering     , most final      fact of them all!        But it's all predicted here! It even names this century for the nextreshuffling of the planets.     Celeste Wolver looked up unwillingly at the book her friend MadgeCarnap held aloft like a torch. She made out the ill-stamped title,      The Dance of the Planets     . There was no mistaking the time ofits origin; only paper from the Twentieth Century aged to thatparticularly nasty shade of brown. Indeed, the book seemed to Celestea brown old witch resurrected from the Last Age of Madness to confounda world growing sane, and she couldn't help shrinking back a trifletoward her husband Theodor.     He tried to come to her rescue. Only predicted in the vaguest way. AsI understand it, Kometevsky claimed, on the basis of a lot of evidencedrawn from folklore, that the planets and their moons trade positionsevery so often.     As if they were playing Going to Jerusalem, or musical chairs,Celeste chimed in, but she couldn't make it sound funny.     Jupiter was supposed to have started as the outermost planet, and isto end up in the orbit of Mercury, Theodor continued. Well, nothingat all like that has happened.     But it's begun, Madge said with conviction. Phobos and Deimos havedisappeared. You can't argue away that stubborn little fact.     That was the trouble; you couldn't. Mars' two tiny moons had simplyvanished during a period when, as was generally the case, the eyesof astronomy weren't on them. Just some hundred-odd cubic miles ofrock—the merest cosmic flyspecks—yet they had carried away with themthe security of a whole world.  <doc-sep>It took three weeks to make the return trip to Swamp City. The Varsoomfollowed us far beyond the frontier of their country like an unseenarmy in the throes of laughing gas. Not until we reached Level Five didthe last chuckle fade into the distance.     All during that trek back, Grannie sat in the dugout, staring silentlyout before her.     But when we reached Swamp City, the news was flung at us from allsides. One newspaper headline accurately told the story: DOCTORUNIVERSE BID FOR SYSTEM DICTATORSHIP SQUELCHED BY RIDICULE OF UNSEENAUDIENCE. QUIZ MASTER NOW IN HANDS OF I.P. COUP FAILURE.     Grannie, I said that night as we sat again in a rear booth of THEJET, what are you going to do now? Give up writing science fiction?     She looked at me soberly, then broke into a smile.     Just because some silly form of life that can't even be seen doesn'tappreciate it? I should say not. Right now I've got an idea for a swellyarn about Mars. Want to come along while I dig up some backgroundmaterial?     I shook my head. Not me, I said.     But I knew I would.   <doc-sep>My sarcasm didn't faze him in the least. Rhetorical. It follows thatyou are the only man whose orders McGuire will obey.     Your robotocists can change that, I said. This time, I was giving himmy version of genuine innocence.  [7]  A man has to be a good actor to bea competent double agent, and I didn't want Ravenhurst to know that Iknew a great deal more about the problem than he did.     He shook his head, making his jowls wobble. No, they cannot. Theyrealize now that there should be some way of making that change, butthey failed to see that it would be necessary. Only by completelydraining McGuire's memory banks and refilling them with new data canthis bias be eliminated.     Then why don't they do that?     There are two very good reasons, he said. And there was a shade ofanger in his tone. In the first place, that sort of operation takestime, and it costs money. If we do that, we might as well go ahead andmake the slight changes in structure necessary to incorporate some ofthe improvements that the robotocists now feel are necessary. In otherwords, they might as well go ahead and build the MGYR-8, which isprecisely the thing I hired you to prevent.     It seems you have a point there, Mr. Ravenhurst. He'd hired mebecause things were shaky at Viking. If he lost too much more money onthe McGuire experiment, he stood a good chance of losing his positionas manager. If that happened some of his other managerial contractsmight be canceled, too. Things like that can begin to snowball, andRavenhurst might find himself out of the managerial business entirely.     But, I went on, hasn't the additional wasted time already cost you  [8]  money?     It has. I was reluctant to call you in again—understandably enough, Ithink.     Perfectly. It's mutual.     He ignored me. I even considered going through with the rebuildingwork, now that we have traced down the source of failure of the firstsix models. Unfortunately, that isn't feasible, either. He scowled atme.     It seems, he went on, that McGuire refuses to allow his brain tobe tampered with. The self-preservation 'instinct' has come to thefore. He has refused to let the technicians and robotocists enter hishull, and he has threatened to take off and leave Ceres if any furtherattempts are made to ... ah ... disrupt his thinking processes.     I can't say that I blame him, I said. What do you want me to do? Goto Ceres and tell him to submit like a good boy?     It is too late for that, Mr. Oak. Viking cannot stand any more ofthat kind of drain on its financial resources. I have been banking onthe McGuire-type ships to put Viking Spacecraft ahead of every otherspacecraft company in the System. He looked suddenly very grim andvery determined. Mr. Oak, I am      certain     that the robot ship is theanswer to the transportation problems in the Solar System. For the sakeof every human being in the Solar System, we must get the bugs out ofMcGuire!       What's good for General Bull-moose is good for everybody     , I quotedto myself. I'd have said it out loud,  [9]  but I was fairly certain thatShalimar Ravenhurst was not a student of the classics.     Mr. Oak, I would like you to go to Ceres and co-operate with therobotocists at Viking. When the MGYR-8 is finally built, I want it tobe the prototype for a fast, safe, functional robot spaceship that canbe turned out commercially. You can be of great service, Mr. Oak.     In other words, I've got you over a barrel.     I don't deny it.     You know what my fees are, Mr. Ravenhurst. That's what you'll becharged. I'll expect to be paid weekly; if Viking goes broke, I don'twant to lose more than a week's pay. On the other hand, if the MGYR-8is successful, I will expect a substantial bonus.     How much?     Exactly half of the cost of rebuilding. Half what it would take tobuild a Model 8 right now, and taking a chance on there being no bugsin it.     He considered that, looking grimmer than ever. Then he said: I willdo it on the condition that the bonus be paid off in installments, oneeach six months for three years after the first successful commercialship is built by Viking.     My lawyer will nail you down on that wording, I said, but it's adeal. Is there anything else?     No.     Then I think I'll leave for Ceres before you break a blood vessel.     You continue to amaze me, Mr. Oak, he said. And the soft oiliness  [10]  ofhis voice was the oil of vitriol. Your compassion for your fellowmanis a facet of your personality that I had not seen before. I shallwelcome the opportunity to relax and allow my blood pressure tosubside.     I could almost see Shalimar Ravenhurst suddenly exploding and addinghis own touch of color to the room.     And, on that gladsome thought, I left. I let him have his small verbaltriumph; if he'd known that I'd have taken on the job for almostnothing, he'd really have blown up.  <doc-sep>   THE MAN OUTSIDE     By EVELYN E. SMITH     Illustrated by DILLON     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction August 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        No one, least of all Martin, could dispute       that a man's life should be guarded by his       kin—but by those who hadn't been born yet?        Nobody in the neighborhood was surprised when Martin's motherdisappeared and Ninian came to take care of him. Mothers had a wayof disappearing around those parts and the kids were often betteroff without them. Martin was no exception. He'd never had it thisgood while he was living with his old lady. As for his father, Martinhad never had one. He'd been a war baby, born of one of the tides ofsoldiers—enemies and allies, both—that had engulfed the country insuccessive waves and bought or taken the women. So there was no troublethat way.     Sometimes he wondered who Ninian really was. Obviously that storyabout her coming from the future was just a gag. Besides, if she reallywas his great-great-grand-daughter, as she said, why would she tellhim to call her       Aunt Ninian     ? Maybe he was only eleven, but he'dbeen around and he knew just what the score was. At first he'd thoughtmaybe she was some new kind of social worker, but she acted a littletoo crazy for that.     He loved to bait her, as he had loved to bait his mother. It was saferwith Ninian, though, because when he pushed her too far, she would cryinstead of mopping up the floor with him.     But I can't understand, he would say, keeping his face straight. Whydo you have to come from the future to protect me against your cousinConrad?     Because he's coming to kill you.     Why should he kill me? I ain't done him nothing.     Ninian sighed. He's dissatisfied with the current social order andkilling you is part of an elaborate plan he's formulated to change it.You wouldn't understand.     You're damn right. I      don't     understand. What's it all about instraight gas?     Oh, just don't ask any questions, Ninian said petulantly. When youget older, someone will explain the whole thing to you.  <doc-sep>     Going straight meant crooked planning. He'd       never make it unless he somehow managed to       PICK A CRIME     By RICHARD R. SMITH     Illustrated by DICK FRANCIS     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction May 1958.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The girl was tall, wide-eyed and brunette. She had the right curves inthe right places and would have been beautiful if her nose had beensmaller, if her mouth had been larger and if her hair had been wavyinstead of straight.     Hank said you wanted to see me, she said when she stopped besideJoe's table.     Yeah. Joe nodded at the other chair. Have a seat. He reached into apocket, withdrew five ten-dollar bills and handed them to her. I wantyou to do a job for me. It'll only take a few minutes.     The girl counted the money, then placed it in her purse. Joe noticeda small counterfeit-detector inside the purse before she closed it.What's the job?     Tell you later. He gulped the remainder of his drink, almost pouringit down his throat.     Hey. You trying to make yourself sick?     Not sick. Drunk. Been trying to get drunk all afternoon. As theliquor settled in his stomach, he waited for the warm glow. But theglow didn't come ... the bartender had watered his drink again.     Trying to get drunk? the girl inquired. Are you crazy?     No. It's simple. If I get drunk, I can join the AAA and get free roomand board for a month while they give me a treatment.     It was easy enough to understand, he reflected, but a lot harder to do.The CPA robot bartenders saw to it that anyone got high if they wanted,but comparatively few got drunk. Each bartender could not only mixdrinks but could also judge by a man's actions and speech when he wason the verge of drunkenness. At the proper time—since drunkenness wasillegal—a bartender always watered the drinks.     Joe had tried dozens of times in dozens of bars to outsmart them, buthad always failed. And in all of New York's millions, there had beenonly a hundred cases of intoxication during the previous year.     The girl laughed. If you're that hard up, I don't know if I shouldtake this fifty or not. Why don't you go out and get a job likeeveryone else?     As an answer, Joe handed her his CPA ID card. She grunted when shesaw the large letters that indicated the owner had Dangerous CriminalTendencies.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What are the differences between the current and previous versions of McGuire and why do they matter, as related to the story ""His Master's Voice"" in Analog Science Fact · Science Fiction?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in DEATH STAR? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>   HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS     By JIM HARMON     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Every lonely man tries to make friends.     Manet just didn't know when to stop!      William Manet was alone.     In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It wouldgive him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlateloneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take himto start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to beginteaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminablelectures to a bored and captive audience of one.     He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whetherit was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and asdirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal andthink more like a god than any man for generations.     But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearingbore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.     Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was alreadytalking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he hadcut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up andwinked at it whenever he passed that way.     Lately she was winking back at him.     Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh fromhis arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.     No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manetcould only be this lonely on Mars.     Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.     All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middleof the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat,flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in theblack sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moonsand one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The wholegimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one wasneeded here—no human being, at least.     The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn'ttake much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefullyspecified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycombMars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.     They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated peoplefor the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going toisolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manetand his fellows.     The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fareto Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuterservice for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodationsfor couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren'tproviding fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits betweenthe various Overseers. They weren't very providential.     But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offeredwonderful opportunities.     It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship makinga tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning asbright as envy.  <doc-sep>  DEATH STAR     By TOM PACE     Trapped by the most feared of space pirates     Devil Garrett, Starrett Blade was fighting for     his life. Weaponless, his ship gone, he was     pinning his hopes on a girl—who wanted him dead.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Spring 1945.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Starrett Blade crouched in the rocks by the tiny Centaurian lake. Itwas only about two or three hundred feet across, but probably thousandsof feet deep. This lake, and hundreds of others like it, were theonly things to break the monotony of the flat, rocky surface of AlphaCentauri III—called the most barren planet in space.     Ten minutes ago, Star Blade's ship had spun into the stagnant watersbefore him. An emergency release had flung the air-lock doors open, andthe air pressure had flung Star out. And now he was waiting for DevilGarrett to come down to the water's edge to search for him.     For eight years, Devil Garrett had been the top space pirate in thevoid. For a year, Star himself had personally been hunting him. And ona tour over Alpha III, a Barden energy-beam had stabbed up at Blade'sship, and Star Blade had crashed into the lake.     That Barden Beam had Star worried and puzzled. It took a million voltsof power for a split-second flash of the beam. Garrett didn't have anatomics plant on Alpha III—if he had, escaping rays would point itout, no matter how well it was camouflaged. There was no water power,for there was no running water. There were only the lakes ... and tidalpower was out, for Alpha III had no moon.     However, that could wait. Star slid the electron knife from hiswater-proof sheath, gripped it firmly. He could hear quick footsteps asa man came down the trail that led directly past his hiding place.     It wasn't Garrett, which was disappointing. But it was one of his men,and he was heavily armed. That didn't worry Star.     His fighting had earned Starrett Blade the nickname of Death Star.     The man walked to the water's edge, and peered out over the pool. Hesaw the bubbles that were coming up from the sinking ship, and henodded, grunted in satisfaction, and started to turn back.     Star landed on him, knocking him sprawling on the rock. The piratejerked up an arm, holding the jet-gun.     The stabbing lance of blue fire cracked from the electron knife, duginto the man's heart.     Star tossed the dead pirate's cloak over his shoulders, and thrust bothelectron blade and jet-gun into his belt. He straightened, and saw theleveled gun from the corner of his eye.     He got the jet in his right hand, the knife in his left, and went intoa dive that flipped him behind a rock. The three actions took only asplit-second, and the blast from the jet-gun flaked rock where he hadbeen standing.     While a jet-gun is the most deadly weapon known, you have to press aloading stud to slide another blast-capsule into place. Death Star knewthis very well. So he knew he was safe in coming up from behind thespur of stone to fire his own gun.     If his reflexes hadn't been as quick as they were, he would haveblasted the girl.  <doc-sep>Star Blade stood before a transmitter, and thought about death.     He was very close to it. Garrett stood five yards away, a gun inhis hand, and the muzzle trained on Blade's chest. The gun was theuniversally used weapon of execution, an old projectile-firing weapon.     Star did not doubt that Devil Garrett was an excellent shot with it.     The girl, very round-eyed and nervous, sat by Garrett. He had explainedto her that Garrett was the type of pirate that it is law to kill, orhave executed, by anyone. Which was very true.     A man stepped away from the transmitter, and nodded to Garrett. Starfelt a surge of hope, as he saw that it was a two-way transmitter. Ifthe image of an Interstellar Command headquarters was tuned in—Garrettwould undoubtedly do it, if only to show the police that he had killedStarrett Blade—then Garrett could not kill him and cut the beam intime to prevent one of the police from giving a cry that would echoover the sub-space beam arriving almost instantly in this room, and letthe girl know that she had been tricked. And Garrett would not wantthat. Not that it would matter to Starrett Blade.     Then Star saw what kind of a transmitter it was, and he groaned. Itwas not a Hineson Sub-space beamer ... it was an old-style transmitterwhich had different wave speeds, because of the different space-bridgerunits in it.     The visual image would arrive many seconds before the sound did. Thusthe girl would not hear Garrett revealed, but would see only Blade'sdeath. And then ... whatever Garrett had planned, Blade wished heartilythat he could have the chance to interfere.     The beam was coming in. Star saw the mists swimming on the screenchange, solidify into a figure ... the figure of District CommanderWeddel seated at a desk. He saw Weddel's eyebrows rise, saw his lipsmove—then Garrett stepped over a pace, and Weddel saw him, saw the gunin his hand....     The police officer yelled, silently, and came to his feet, anexpression of shocked surprise on his face—surprise, Blade thoughtdesperately, that the girl might interpret as shock at seeing DevilGarrett.     Which was right, in a way.     Then, as Commander Weddel leapt to his feet, as Devil Garrett'sfinger tightened on the trigger, as the girl sucked in her breathinvoluntarily, Star Blade scooped up a bit of metal—a fork—and flungit at the vision transmitter.     Not at the screen. But at the equipment behind the dial-board. At acertain small unit, which was almost covered by wires and braces forthe large tubes. And the fork struck it, bit deep, and caused result.     Result in the form of a burned-out set. If television equipment cancurse, that set cursed them. Its spitting of sparks and blue electricflame mingled with a strange, high-pitched whine.     It was the diversion that caused Garrett to miss Star, which gave himtime to pull three or four of Garrett's men onto the floor with him.One of the men drove the butt of a jet-gun into the side of Star'shead, and for the third time, he went very limp. The last thing he sawwas the girl.     Somehow, the expression on her face was different from what it hadbeen. He was searching for the difference, when the blow struckhim. Somewhere in the space that lies between consciousness andunconsciousness, he reflected bitterly that if he kept staring at thegirl when he should be fighting, he might not recover some day. Thiswas the third time that he had been knocked out that way. It was notgetting monotonous. He still felt it a novelty.     Star awoke in the same prison cell, facing the wall away from the door.He wondered if he were still alive, tried to move his head, and decidedthat he wasn't. He didn't even get up or look around when he dimlyheard the door being opened.     But when he heard the girl's voice, he came up and around very swiftly,despite his head.     It was the girl all right. Even through the tumbled mists of his brain,he could see that she was not a dream. And as he reeled and fellagainst the wall, she was beside him in a flash, her arm supporting him.  <doc-sep>He stopped, and stood for a second, staring at the girl. She wassomething to invite stares, too. In the moment that lasted between hernext move, he had time to register that she was about five feet fivetall, black-haired—the kind of black hair that looks like silken spundarkness—dark-eyed, and possessing both a face and a form that wouldmake anyone stop and gulp.     Then the moment of half-awed survey was over, and she leveled the jeton him, and said in a trembling voice, Drop those weapons, or I'llblast you ...      pirate     !     Death Star said, That jet-gun is empty. I can see the register on themagazine. And I'm not a pirate. I'm Starrett Blade.     The useless jet-gun slid out of the girl's hand, and she gave ahalf-gasp. Starrett Blade! I—I don't believe ... she broke offabruptly. So you're Death Star! A fine story for a hired killer, apirate.     Star reddened. Look, he snapped, I don't know who's been talking toyou, but ... he whirled, and his hand whipped the jet-gun from hisbelt. As he did so, the girl jerked up the jet-gun she had dropped, andflung it with all her strength. The blow landed on his arm and side,and paralyzed him long enough for the man who had leaped out behind himto land a stunning blow against his head. As Star went down, he dizzilycursed himself for becoming interested in the argument with the girl,so that he did not heed his reflexes in time ... and dimly, he wonderedwhy it had seemed so important to convince the lovely dark-haired girl.     Then a bit of the cosmos seemed to fall on Star's head, and he washurled into blackness.     An eternity seemed to pass.     Deep in the blackness, a light was born. It leaped toward him, afar-away comet rocketing along, coming from some far, unknown cornerof the galaxy. It became a flaming sun in a gray-green space, andstrangely, there seemed to be several odd planets circling about thesun. Some of them were vast pieces of queer electronic machinery. Somewere vague, villainous-looking men. One was the dark-haired girl, andthere was lovely contempt in her dark-star pools of eyes.     Then into the midst of this queer universe, there swam a new planet. Itwas the face of a man, and the man was Devil Garrett.     That brought Star up, out of his daze, onto his feet as though he hadbeen doused with cold water. He stood there, not staring, just lookingat Garrett.     The most famous killer in the void was big. He was six feet three, andtwice as strong as he looked. He wore a huge high-velocity jet-gun, anda set of electron knives, all of the finest workmanship. He was sittingon a laboratory chair of steel, and the chair bent slightly under hisgreat weight.     He smiled at Star, and there was a touch of hell in the smile. He said,Ah, Mr. Garrett.     Star's jaw dropped. Garrett? What do you— he broke off. A glance atthe girl told him what the purpose was.     Look, Mr. Devil Garrett, said the pirate, still smiling softly, MissHinton is aware of your identity. There is no need to attempt to foolus.... I've known it was you ever since I flashed that beam at yourship. And you needn't flatter yourself that the Devil's luck is goingto hold out as far as you are concerned. For in a very short while,I'm going to have you executed ... before a stellar vision screen,connected with Section Void Headquarters! I wish the authorities to seeDevil Garrett die, so that I might collect the reward that is offeredon you!     Star stood quiet, and looked straight into Garrett's eyes. After aminute of silence, Garrett's lips twisted into a smile, and he saidmockingly, Well, pirate? What are you thinking of?     Star said, in a low, cold voice, I'm thinking of putting an electronfire-blade into your face, Devil Garrett!     Garrett laughed ... huge, rather evil, bluff laughter. The mirth of aperson who is both powerful and dangerous. And then the girl leapedforward, shaking with rage.     You beast! Murderer! To accuse this man ... you fool, you might havebeen able to complete any scheme of escape you had, if you hadn'tcalled yourself Starrett Blade! Mr. Blade.... She gestured towardGarrett, who made a mocking, sardonic bow. ... has given me ampleproof that he is who he says! And this long before you came. He's shownme papers giving a description and showing a tri-dimension picture ofyou....     Fire leaped in Star's eyes. Listen ... he snapped furiously, as hestarted to step forward. Then Garrett made a signal with his hand, andsomeone drove a fist against the base of Star's skull.  <doc-sep>Okay, threw back Star and the man appeared in the doorway, emptyhands held high. After a second, the other joined him.     Anne turned to Star. Now I know why they call you 'Death Star' Blade,she said, and gestured toward the men who had surrendered, and the twowhom Starrett had shot down.     He mused there for a minute. Then Anne broke the silence with, Star,what are we going to do now? Garrett's men will be up here in a littlewhile. We can't get to a sub-space beam. What are we going to do whenthey come up to investigate?     Starrett Blade laughed. Do? Well, we could turn them over to CommanderWeddel!           What?          Grinning broadly, Star pointed, with a flourish, at the door. Annespun about, and found Commander Weddel grinning in the door from thecorridor.     Very simple, said Star across the lounge to Anne. When I smashedthe vision set with that dinner fork, I broke a small unit which isincluded in all sets. You know, a direction finder doesn't work, exceptin the liner-beam principle, in space, because of the diffusing effectof unrestricted cosmic rays.     Yes, I knew that, said Anne. But how—     Starrett grinned again. A type of beam has been found which it isimpossible for cosmics to disturb. But you can't send messages onit, so it is made in a little unit on every set. If that unit isbroken, the set automatically releases a signal beam. This is adistress signal, and the location of the set that sent out the signalis recorded at the Section Headquarters. When Commander Weddel sawme throw something at the set, and it went dead, he looked at theautomatic record, and found out that a signal had been sent in froma location on Alpha Cen's third planet. Then he had a high-velocitycruiser brought out and dropped in, in time to pick up some pieces. Hestopped, and idly toyed with a sheaf of papers, then held them up. Seethese papers?     Uh-huh. What are they, Star?     They are the main plans of Devil Garrett's power plant, and they'rethe one good thing he's ever done. These plans are going to bring thebarren, rocky Centauri planets to life!     He got up, and paced to the window, and stood there, looking out, andup through the plastic port. The planets of Centauri! he murmuredsoftly. Seven circling Alpha alone. And all seven are barren, rocky,level except for the thousands of lakes ... lakes that are going to bethe life of Centauri!  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>The weeks that followed were like a blur in Willard's mind. Though theship was utterly incapable of motion, the chance meteor that damagedit had spared the convertors and assimilators. Through constant careand attention the frail balance that meant life or death could be kept.The substance of waste and refuse was torn down and rebuilt as preciousfood and air. It was even possible to create more than was needed.     When this was done, Willard immediately regretted it. For it would bethen that the days and the weeks would roll by endlessly. Sometimeshe thought he would go mad when, sitting at the useless controlboard, which was his habit, he would stare for hours and hours inthe direction of the Sun where he knew the Earth would be. A greatloneliness would then seize upon him and an agony that no man had everknown would tear at his heart. He would then turn away, full of despairand hopeless pain.     Two years after Dobbin's death a strange thing happened. Willard wassitting at his accustomed place facing the unmoving vista of the stars.A chance glance at Orion's belt froze him still. A star had flickered!Distinctly, as if a light veil had been placed over it and then lifted,it dimmed and turned bright again. What strange phenomena was this? Hewatched and then another star faded momentarily in the exact fashion.And then a third! And a fourth! And a fifth!     Willard's heart gave a leap and the lethargy of two years vanishedinstantly. Here, at last, was something to do. It might be only a fewminutes before he would understand what it was, but those few minuteswould help while away the maddening long hours. Perhaps it was a massof fine meteorites or a pocket of gas that did not disperse, or even amoving warp of space-light. Whatever it was, it was a phenomena worthinvestigating and Willard seized upon it as a dying man seizes upon thelast flashing seconds of life.     Willard traced its course by the flickering stars and gradually plottedits semi-circular course. It was not from the solar system but,instead, headed toward it. A rapid check-up on his calculations causedhis heart to beat in ever quickening excitement. Whatever it was, itwould reach the      Mary Lou     .     Again he looked out the port. Unquestionably the faint mass was nearinghis ship. It was round in shape and almost invisible. The stars,though dimmed, could still be seen through it. There was somethingabout its form that reminded him of an old-fashioned rocket ship. Itresembled one of those that had done pioneer service in the lanes fortyyears ago or more. Resembled one? It was one! Unquestionably, thoughhalf-invisible and like a piece of glass immersed in water, it was arocket ship.     But the instruments on the control board could not lie. The presence ofany material body within a hundred thousand miles would be revealed.But the needle on the gauge did not quiver. Nothing indicated thepresence of a ship. But the evidence of his eyes was incontestable.     Or was it? Doubt gripped him. Did the loneliness of all these yearsin space twist his mind till he was imagining the appearance of faintghost-like rocket ships?     The thought shot through his mind like a thunder bolt. Ghost Ship!Was this the thing that Dobbin had seen before he died? But that wasimpossible. Ghost Ships existed nowhere but in legends and tall talestold by men drunk with the liquors of Mars.     There is no ship there. There is no ship there, Willard told himselfover and over again as he looked at the vague outline of the ship, nowmotionless a few hundred miles away.     Deep within him a faint voice cried,       It's come—for me!      but Willardstilled it. This was no fantasy. There was a scientific reason for it.There must be! Or should there be? Throughout all Earth history therehad been Ghost Ships sailing the Seven Seas—ships doomed to roamforever because their crew broke some unbreakable law. If this was truefor the ships of the seas, why not for the ships of empty space?     He looked again at the strange ship. It was motionless. At least it wasnot nearing him. Willard could see nothing but its vague outline. Amoment later he could discern a faint motion. It was turning! The GhostShip was turning back! Unconsciously Willard reached out with his handas if to hold it back, for when it was gone he would be alone again.     But the Ghost Ship went on. Its outline became smaller and smaller,fainter and fainter.     Trembling, Willard turned away from the window as he saw the rocketrecede and vanish into the emptiness of space. Once more the dreadedloneliness of the stars descended upon him.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in DEATH STAR?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the fate of Garrett in the story DEATH STAR? [SEP] <s>Star Blade stood before a transmitter, and thought about death.     He was very close to it. Garrett stood five yards away, a gun inhis hand, and the muzzle trained on Blade's chest. The gun was theuniversally used weapon of execution, an old projectile-firing weapon.     Star did not doubt that Devil Garrett was an excellent shot with it.     The girl, very round-eyed and nervous, sat by Garrett. He had explainedto her that Garrett was the type of pirate that it is law to kill, orhave executed, by anyone. Which was very true.     A man stepped away from the transmitter, and nodded to Garrett. Starfelt a surge of hope, as he saw that it was a two-way transmitter. Ifthe image of an Interstellar Command headquarters was tuned in—Garrettwould undoubtedly do it, if only to show the police that he had killedStarrett Blade—then Garrett could not kill him and cut the beam intime to prevent one of the police from giving a cry that would echoover the sub-space beam arriving almost instantly in this room, and letthe girl know that she had been tricked. And Garrett would not wantthat. Not that it would matter to Starrett Blade.     Then Star saw what kind of a transmitter it was, and he groaned. Itwas not a Hineson Sub-space beamer ... it was an old-style transmitterwhich had different wave speeds, because of the different space-bridgerunits in it.     The visual image would arrive many seconds before the sound did. Thusthe girl would not hear Garrett revealed, but would see only Blade'sdeath. And then ... whatever Garrett had planned, Blade wished heartilythat he could have the chance to interfere.     The beam was coming in. Star saw the mists swimming on the screenchange, solidify into a figure ... the figure of District CommanderWeddel seated at a desk. He saw Weddel's eyebrows rise, saw his lipsmove—then Garrett stepped over a pace, and Weddel saw him, saw the gunin his hand....     The police officer yelled, silently, and came to his feet, anexpression of shocked surprise on his face—surprise, Blade thoughtdesperately, that the girl might interpret as shock at seeing DevilGarrett.     Which was right, in a way.     Then, as Commander Weddel leapt to his feet, as Devil Garrett'sfinger tightened on the trigger, as the girl sucked in her breathinvoluntarily, Star Blade scooped up a bit of metal—a fork—and flungit at the vision transmitter.     Not at the screen. But at the equipment behind the dial-board. At acertain small unit, which was almost covered by wires and braces forthe large tubes. And the fork struck it, bit deep, and caused result.     Result in the form of a burned-out set. If television equipment cancurse, that set cursed them. Its spitting of sparks and blue electricflame mingled with a strange, high-pitched whine.     It was the diversion that caused Garrett to miss Star, which gave himtime to pull three or four of Garrett's men onto the floor with him.One of the men drove the butt of a jet-gun into the side of Star'shead, and for the third time, he went very limp. The last thing he sawwas the girl.     Somehow, the expression on her face was different from what it hadbeen. He was searching for the difference, when the blow struckhim. Somewhere in the space that lies between consciousness andunconsciousness, he reflected bitterly that if he kept staring at thegirl when he should be fighting, he might not recover some day. Thiswas the third time that he had been knocked out that way. It was notgetting monotonous. He still felt it a novelty.     Star awoke in the same prison cell, facing the wall away from the door.He wondered if he were still alive, tried to move his head, and decidedthat he wasn't. He didn't even get up or look around when he dimlyheard the door being opened.     But when he heard the girl's voice, he came up and around very swiftly,despite his head.     It was the girl all right. Even through the tumbled mists of his brain,he could see that she was not a dream. And as he reeled and fellagainst the wall, she was beside him in a flash, her arm supporting him.  <doc-sep>He stopped, and stood for a second, staring at the girl. She wassomething to invite stares, too. In the moment that lasted between hernext move, he had time to register that she was about five feet fivetall, black-haired—the kind of black hair that looks like silken spundarkness—dark-eyed, and possessing both a face and a form that wouldmake anyone stop and gulp.     Then the moment of half-awed survey was over, and she leveled the jeton him, and said in a trembling voice, Drop those weapons, or I'llblast you ...      pirate     !     Death Star said, That jet-gun is empty. I can see the register on themagazine. And I'm not a pirate. I'm Starrett Blade.     The useless jet-gun slid out of the girl's hand, and she gave ahalf-gasp. Starrett Blade! I—I don't believe ... she broke offabruptly. So you're Death Star! A fine story for a hired killer, apirate.     Star reddened. Look, he snapped, I don't know who's been talking toyou, but ... he whirled, and his hand whipped the jet-gun from hisbelt. As he did so, the girl jerked up the jet-gun she had dropped, andflung it with all her strength. The blow landed on his arm and side,and paralyzed him long enough for the man who had leaped out behind himto land a stunning blow against his head. As Star went down, he dizzilycursed himself for becoming interested in the argument with the girl,so that he did not heed his reflexes in time ... and dimly, he wonderedwhy it had seemed so important to convince the lovely dark-haired girl.     Then a bit of the cosmos seemed to fall on Star's head, and he washurled into blackness.     An eternity seemed to pass.     Deep in the blackness, a light was born. It leaped toward him, afar-away comet rocketing along, coming from some far, unknown cornerof the galaxy. It became a flaming sun in a gray-green space, andstrangely, there seemed to be several odd planets circling about thesun. Some of them were vast pieces of queer electronic machinery. Somewere vague, villainous-looking men. One was the dark-haired girl, andthere was lovely contempt in her dark-star pools of eyes.     Then into the midst of this queer universe, there swam a new planet. Itwas the face of a man, and the man was Devil Garrett.     That brought Star up, out of his daze, onto his feet as though he hadbeen doused with cold water. He stood there, not staring, just lookingat Garrett.     The most famous killer in the void was big. He was six feet three, andtwice as strong as he looked. He wore a huge high-velocity jet-gun, anda set of electron knives, all of the finest workmanship. He was sittingon a laboratory chair of steel, and the chair bent slightly under hisgreat weight.     He smiled at Star, and there was a touch of hell in the smile. He said,Ah, Mr. Garrett.     Star's jaw dropped. Garrett? What do you— he broke off. A glance atthe girl told him what the purpose was.     Look, Mr. Devil Garrett, said the pirate, still smiling softly, MissHinton is aware of your identity. There is no need to attempt to foolus.... I've known it was you ever since I flashed that beam at yourship. And you needn't flatter yourself that the Devil's luck is goingto hold out as far as you are concerned. For in a very short while,I'm going to have you executed ... before a stellar vision screen,connected with Section Void Headquarters! I wish the authorities to seeDevil Garrett die, so that I might collect the reward that is offeredon you!     Star stood quiet, and looked straight into Garrett's eyes. After aminute of silence, Garrett's lips twisted into a smile, and he saidmockingly, Well, pirate? What are you thinking of?     Star said, in a low, cold voice, I'm thinking of putting an electronfire-blade into your face, Devil Garrett!     Garrett laughed ... huge, rather evil, bluff laughter. The mirth of aperson who is both powerful and dangerous. And then the girl leapedforward, shaking with rage.     You beast! Murderer! To accuse this man ... you fool, you might havebeen able to complete any scheme of escape you had, if you hadn'tcalled yourself Starrett Blade! Mr. Blade.... She gestured towardGarrett, who made a mocking, sardonic bow. ... has given me ampleproof that he is who he says! And this long before you came. He's shownme papers giving a description and showing a tri-dimension picture ofyou....     Fire leaped in Star's eyes. Listen ... he snapped furiously, as hestarted to step forward. Then Garrett made a signal with his hand, andsomeone drove a fist against the base of Star's skull.  <doc-sep>  DEATH STAR     By TOM PACE     Trapped by the most feared of space pirates     Devil Garrett, Starrett Blade was fighting for     his life. Weaponless, his ship gone, he was     pinning his hopes on a girl—who wanted him dead.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Spring 1945.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Starrett Blade crouched in the rocks by the tiny Centaurian lake. Itwas only about two or three hundred feet across, but probably thousandsof feet deep. This lake, and hundreds of others like it, were theonly things to break the monotony of the flat, rocky surface of AlphaCentauri III—called the most barren planet in space.     Ten minutes ago, Star Blade's ship had spun into the stagnant watersbefore him. An emergency release had flung the air-lock doors open, andthe air pressure had flung Star out. And now he was waiting for DevilGarrett to come down to the water's edge to search for him.     For eight years, Devil Garrett had been the top space pirate in thevoid. For a year, Star himself had personally been hunting him. And ona tour over Alpha III, a Barden energy-beam had stabbed up at Blade'sship, and Star Blade had crashed into the lake.     That Barden Beam had Star worried and puzzled. It took a million voltsof power for a split-second flash of the beam. Garrett didn't have anatomics plant on Alpha III—if he had, escaping rays would point itout, no matter how well it was camouflaged. There was no water power,for there was no running water. There were only the lakes ... and tidalpower was out, for Alpha III had no moon.     However, that could wait. Star slid the electron knife from hiswater-proof sheath, gripped it firmly. He could hear quick footsteps asa man came down the trail that led directly past his hiding place.     It wasn't Garrett, which was disappointing. But it was one of his men,and he was heavily armed. That didn't worry Star.     His fighting had earned Starrett Blade the nickname of Death Star.     The man walked to the water's edge, and peered out over the pool. Hesaw the bubbles that were coming up from the sinking ship, and henodded, grunted in satisfaction, and started to turn back.     Star landed on him, knocking him sprawling on the rock. The piratejerked up an arm, holding the jet-gun.     The stabbing lance of blue fire cracked from the electron knife, duginto the man's heart.     Star tossed the dead pirate's cloak over his shoulders, and thrust bothelectron blade and jet-gun into his belt. He straightened, and saw theleveled gun from the corner of his eye.     He got the jet in his right hand, the knife in his left, and went intoa dive that flipped him behind a rock. The three actions took only asplit-second, and the blast from the jet-gun flaked rock where he hadbeen standing.     While a jet-gun is the most deadly weapon known, you have to press aloading stud to slide another blast-capsule into place. Death Star knewthis very well. So he knew he was safe in coming up from behind thespur of stone to fire his own gun.     If his reflexes hadn't been as quick as they were, he would haveblasted the girl.  <doc-sep>Star Blade whistled softly through his teeth. A huge enterprise! Itcould be ... but for a moment he had forgotten Devil Garrett.     The girl standing by his side, Star turned toward Garrett. Well?     Garrett smiled his mocking grin. You grasp the principle, of course.But let me show you ... you see those pipes that run from the turbinesafter the wheels?     Yes. They carry the gases off. Where do they lead?     Into giant subterranean caverns beneath the surface! Garrett said.Now look over there, on the platforms across from us. Can yourecognize a Barden energy-beamer, Blade? Run by power from my littleplant here, which is run by water from a thousand lakes!     Just imagine, if you can, hundreds of those plants all over AlphaIII. And each one with dozens of high-powered Barden beams to protectit! And Hinton ray screens to protect us from radio-controlled rocketshells from space, or Barden Rays, or any other weapon of offence, orto warn if anyone lands on this planet! Garrett leaned forward, hiseyes aglow.     Blade, I'll take over the few governing posts on this little planet,and I'll rule an entire world, a whole planet to myself! It'll be thefirst time in history! And it won't be the last. With the Hinton secretpatents, the plans of all John Hinton's inventions and processes....     Star twisted, and got his ace card out of its hiding place.     It was a jet weapon, little more than a jet-blast capsule for ajet-gun. The sides were thicker and stronger, and there was a devicefixed on it so it could be fired. Altogether, it was somewhat smallerthan an old-style fountain pen.     He twisted up from the floor, and moved faster than he had moved everbefore. Star was famous for his speed and the quickness and alertnessof his reflexes. He earned his fame a score of times over in that oneinstant.       And Devil Garrett died.     There was perhaps an eighth of a second between the staff of blue whitefire from the tiny jet in Star's hand and the huge broadsword of firefrom Garrett's gun. But in the split-second Star's fire knifed intoGarrett's vitals, and Garrett gave a convulsive jerk, and fired even ashis muscles started the jerking movement.     And the flame went over Star's head, singeing his scalp.     Of the four men with Garrett, one let go of the struggling Anne, andswore as he snatched at an electron knife in his belt. Anne's handhad already whipped the knife out, and without bothering to press theelectron stud, she buried the knife in his back.     Two of the remaining men whirled, and went for the door as though adevil was after them. The other tried to get a jet-gun out. It was hisfinal mistake. A blue lance from Anne's knife whipped close enough tohim to make him dodge, and then Star got his hand on Garrett's jet.     The other two men had, in their flight, taken a door which led, notinto the large corridor, but into a small room at one side, a roomfilled with instruments and recording devices for the machinery in theroom below. Star leaped to the side of the door, and called, Are yougoing to come out, or am I coming in to get you?     There was a short silence, in which Anne heard one say hoarsely, Hecan't get us ... we could get him if he came in the door.     Oh, yes? was the answer. Do you know who that guy is? He's the onethey call 'Death Star.' I'm not facing Starrett Blade in a gun fight.You can do what you like, but I'm leaving. Then he lifted his voice.Hey, Blade! I'm coming out. Don't shoot.  <doc-sep>When Star came to, he was in a cell of sorts. A man standing by thedoor told him that he was to be executed, ... after Mr. Blade and thelady have eaten. Starrett swore at him, and the man went out, with amocking Goodbye, Mr. Garrett!     Star got up. His head spun, and he almost fell at first, but the dazeleft in his head from the two blows quickly cleared away. He felt forvarious weapons which he had hidden about him ... and found them gone.Garrett's men had searched carefully.     Star sat down, his head spinning more now from mystery than fromphysical pain. He had to keep himself in a whole skin, of course. Thatwas most important right now. But other things were bothering him,tugging at his mind like waves slapping around a swamped ship, eachtrying to shove it in a different direction.     There was the girl. Star wondered why she always leaped into his mindfirst. And there was the way Garrett was trying to leave the impressionthat he was Blade, so that he could kill Blade as Garrett.     Obviously, the reason for that was the girl, Miss Hinton, Garrett hadcalled her. She had been shown faked papers by Garrett, papers provingthat the two were ... were whatever Garrett had twisted the story into!     Star clutched at his head. He was in a mess. He was going to be killed,and he was going to die without knowing the score. And he didn't likethat. Nor did he like dying as Star Blade shouldn't die; executed asa wolf's-head pirate. The girl would be watching, and he felt as ifthat would make it far worse.     His head came up, and he smiled flintily. He still had an ace card! Onehand felt for it, and he shook his head slowly. It was a gamble ... butall the others had been found.     Blade looked up quickly, as the door opened. Two men came into thecell, carrying jet-guns. They motioned Blade to his feet. Come on,Blade. One began, when the other hit him across the mouth.     You fool! he hissed. You better not call him that; suppose thatgirl was to hear it? Until the boss gets what he wants on Earth, thatgirl has got to think that he's Blade! We're killing this guy as DevilGarrett! And a loud-mouthed fool like you ... look out!     Blade had landed on the bickering men, and was grappling with the onewho had called him by name. As the other leaped forward, swinging aclubbing blow with a jet-gun, Star tripped one man into the corner, andducked under the gun. He hit the man in the stomach, drove a shoulderup under his arms, and smashed the man's face in with a series of sharpblows. The man went reeling backward across the room, and Star's handleaped toward that ace card which he still held.     Devil Garrett stepped in the door, and made a mock out of a courteousbow. As he did so, Star snarled in rage, but stood very still, for theelectron knife in Garrett's hand did not waver.     Garrett gestured silently toward the door, and Star, equally silent,walked over and out, at the point of the weapon.  <doc-sep>He turned back to the window. And all because a pirate named DevilGarrett built a vast power plant to use to garner more power!     You know, Anne, as a mockery, and a warning, I think I'll propose thatthis planet be officially named ... 'Garrett'!     She looked up at him, and there was laughter bright in her eyes, andtugging at her mouth. Yes, there ought to be a reason, she murmured.Star wavered. She was so darn close.     After a minute, she turned her head, and looked up at him. Star, howsoon will there be those gardens and woods you described? I mean,how long before Garrett can be turned into that kind of world youdescribed?     Why ... under pressure, we can do it in six months. Why?     Not half quick enough, she murmured happily, but it'll have to do,Star. Laughing, she turned her face up to his. Have you ever thoughtthat planet Garrett will be wonderful for a honeymoon?   <doc-sep>Okay, threw back Star and the man appeared in the doorway, emptyhands held high. After a second, the other joined him.     Anne turned to Star. Now I know why they call you 'Death Star' Blade,she said, and gestured toward the men who had surrendered, and the twowhom Starrett had shot down.     He mused there for a minute. Then Anne broke the silence with, Star,what are we going to do now? Garrett's men will be up here in a littlewhile. We can't get to a sub-space beam. What are we going to do whenthey come up to investigate?     Starrett Blade laughed. Do? Well, we could turn them over to CommanderWeddel!           What?          Grinning broadly, Star pointed, with a flourish, at the door. Annespun about, and found Commander Weddel grinning in the door from thecorridor.     Very simple, said Star across the lounge to Anne. When I smashedthe vision set with that dinner fork, I broke a small unit which isincluded in all sets. You know, a direction finder doesn't work, exceptin the liner-beam principle, in space, because of the diffusing effectof unrestricted cosmic rays.     Yes, I knew that, said Anne. But how—     Starrett grinned again. A type of beam has been found which it isimpossible for cosmics to disturb. But you can't send messages onit, so it is made in a little unit on every set. If that unit isbroken, the set automatically releases a signal beam. This is adistress signal, and the location of the set that sent out the signalis recorded at the Section Headquarters. When Commander Weddel sawme throw something at the set, and it went dead, he looked at theautomatic record, and found out that a signal had been sent in froma location on Alpha Cen's third planet. Then he had a high-velocitycruiser brought out and dropped in, in time to pick up some pieces. Hestopped, and idly toyed with a sheaf of papers, then held them up. Seethese papers?     Uh-huh. What are they, Star?     They are the main plans of Devil Garrett's power plant, and they'rethe one good thing he's ever done. These plans are going to bring thebarren, rocky Centauri planets to life!     He got up, and paced to the window, and stood there, looking out, andup through the plastic port. The planets of Centauri! he murmuredsoftly. Seven circling Alpha alone. And all seven are barren, rocky,level except for the thousands of lakes ... lakes that are going to bethe life of Centauri!  <doc-sep>At first he tried to push himself erect, his head whirling with sickdizziness, and bewilderment. Through a twisting haze, he peered up atthe girl's face. It reflected a look that, amazingly, was one of—withno other phrase to do—compassion. Star half-sighed, and laid his headon the girl's breast, and closed his eyes.     In a minute or two, she said tensely, Are you all right? Star lookedup at her.     I guess so. Here—give a hand while I get my balance. She held him ashe tried a step or two, and then he straightened. I guess I'll be allright, now, he smiled. My head feels like—say! How come you're doingthis? What made you change your mind? And who are you?     She said quickly, breathlessly, I know you're Star Blade, now. Thattransmission set.... I can read lips! I      knew     what that officer wassaying! It was just as if I had      heard     him say that ... that you wereStarrett Blade and that man out there is Devil Garrett! she made achoking sound. And I've been here, alone, for a month! For a month!     A month? Huh—please—you...?     Star took a breath, and started over. You.... Who      are     you? What areyou doing here?     She said, I'm Anne Hinton. My father is Old John Hinton. Have youheard of him?     Of course! said Star. He manufactures most of the equipment '      BladeCosmian     ' uses. Weapons, Hineson Sub-Spacers, Star-Traveler craft ...the ship I was in when Garrett brought me down was a Hinton craft. Ishould have recognized the name. But go on. What—     Garrett communicated with dad, secretly. He posed as StarrettBlade, as you, and told dad that he was developing certain new powerprocesses. And he is! He has a new—or maybe it isn't so new—way ofelectrolyzing water to liberate hydrogen and oxygen.     I think I understand, said Star quickly. When the oxygen andhydrogen are allowed to combine, and produce an explosion which drivea turbine-generator. Then that could be hitched up to a cyclotron, andeven the most barren of Alpha's lake-rock planets could be....     No, she shook her head puzzledly. It's just electric power. He saidthat atomics would release stray rays that would attract pirates.     I know, Star nodded, abstractedly. I was thinking of anotherapplication of it ... hmm. But say! What was Garrett after? I know thathe wouldn't do this just to get a secret process sold. He must have hadanother plan behind it. Got any idea?     Anne shook her head slowly. I don't know. I can't see....     Perhaps I could help you? Devil Garrett asked smoothly from the door.     Star whirled, thrust Anne behind him, but there was no way out. Garrettstood in the door, and there were men behind him. The jet in his handcould kill both of the two at one shot. And they had no weapons toresist with.     Devil Garrett stepped them out of the room, and down the corridor,through a large door Star had noticed at the end of the passage, andinto a huge room.     It must have been a thousand feet long, and half that wide. It was atleast a hundred yards deep. And it was almost filled with giganticmachines.     Between the machinery, the spaces were almost filled with steel laddersand cat-walks. Crews of men swarmed over them. It was the largest massof equipment Starrett had ever seen.     His eyes began to pick out details. Those huge vat-like things downat the far end, with the large cables running into them, and themighty pumps connected to them ... they were probably the electrolysischambers.     And those great pipes, they must carry the hydrogen and oxygen fromthe electro chambers to the large replicas of engines, which could benothing else but the explosion chambers, where the gases were allowedto re-unite, and explode. And there by the giant engines, those must beturbines, which in turn connected with the vast-sized generators justunder the platforms on which they stood.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the fate of Garrett in the story DEATH STAR?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the environment in which the events of DEATH STAR take place? [SEP] <s>  DEATH STAR     By TOM PACE     Trapped by the most feared of space pirates     Devil Garrett, Starrett Blade was fighting for     his life. Weaponless, his ship gone, he was     pinning his hopes on a girl—who wanted him dead.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Spring 1945.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Starrett Blade crouched in the rocks by the tiny Centaurian lake. Itwas only about two or three hundred feet across, but probably thousandsof feet deep. This lake, and hundreds of others like it, were theonly things to break the monotony of the flat, rocky surface of AlphaCentauri III—called the most barren planet in space.     Ten minutes ago, Star Blade's ship had spun into the stagnant watersbefore him. An emergency release had flung the air-lock doors open, andthe air pressure had flung Star out. And now he was waiting for DevilGarrett to come down to the water's edge to search for him.     For eight years, Devil Garrett had been the top space pirate in thevoid. For a year, Star himself had personally been hunting him. And ona tour over Alpha III, a Barden energy-beam had stabbed up at Blade'sship, and Star Blade had crashed into the lake.     That Barden Beam had Star worried and puzzled. It took a million voltsof power for a split-second flash of the beam. Garrett didn't have anatomics plant on Alpha III—if he had, escaping rays would point itout, no matter how well it was camouflaged. There was no water power,for there was no running water. There were only the lakes ... and tidalpower was out, for Alpha III had no moon.     However, that could wait. Star slid the electron knife from hiswater-proof sheath, gripped it firmly. He could hear quick footsteps asa man came down the trail that led directly past his hiding place.     It wasn't Garrett, which was disappointing. But it was one of his men,and he was heavily armed. That didn't worry Star.     His fighting had earned Starrett Blade the nickname of Death Star.     The man walked to the water's edge, and peered out over the pool. Hesaw the bubbles that were coming up from the sinking ship, and henodded, grunted in satisfaction, and started to turn back.     Star landed on him, knocking him sprawling on the rock. The piratejerked up an arm, holding the jet-gun.     The stabbing lance of blue fire cracked from the electron knife, duginto the man's heart.     Star tossed the dead pirate's cloak over his shoulders, and thrust bothelectron blade and jet-gun into his belt. He straightened, and saw theleveled gun from the corner of his eye.     He got the jet in his right hand, the knife in his left, and went intoa dive that flipped him behind a rock. The three actions took only asplit-second, and the blast from the jet-gun flaked rock where he hadbeen standing.     While a jet-gun is the most deadly weapon known, you have to press aloading stud to slide another blast-capsule into place. Death Star knewthis very well. So he knew he was safe in coming up from behind thespur of stone to fire his own gun.     If his reflexes hadn't been as quick as they were, he would haveblasted the girl.  <doc-sep>The officer picked up the dollar bill and fingered it with evidentinterest. He turned it over and studied the printing. United States ofAmerica, he read aloud. What are those?     It's the name of the country I come from, Jeff said carefully.I—uh—got on the wrong train, apparently, and must have come furtherthan I thought. What's the name of this place?     This is Costa, West Goodland, in the Continental Federation. Say, youmust come from an umpty remote part of the world if you don't knowabout this country. His eyes narrowed. Where'd you learn to speakFederal, if you come from so far?     Jeff said helplessly, I can't explain, if you don't know about theUnited States. Listen, can you take me to a bank, or some place wherethey know about foreign exchange?     The policeman scowled. How'd you get into this country, anyway? Yougot immigrate clearance?     An angry muttering started among the bystanders.     The policeman made up his mind. You come with me.     At the police station, Jeff put his elbows dejectedly on the highcounter while the policeman talked to an officer in charge. Some menwhom Jeff took for reporters got up from a table and eased over tolisten.     I don't know whether to charge them with fakemake, bumsy, peekage orlunate, the policeman said as he finished.     His superior gave Jeff a long puzzled stare.     Jeff sighed. I know it sounds impossible, but a man brought me insomething he claimed was a time traveler. You speak the same language Ido—more or less—but everything else is kind of unfamiliar. I belongin the United States, a country in North America. I can't believe I'mso far in the future that the United States has been forgotten.     There ensued a long, confused, inconclusive interrogation.     The man behind the desk asked questions which seemed stupid to Jeff andgot answers which probably seemed stupid to him.     The reporters quizzed Jeff gleefully. Come out, what are youadvertising? they kept asking. Who got you up to this?     The police puzzled over his driver's license and the other cards in hiswallet. They asked repeatedly about the lack of a Work License, whichJeff took to be some sort of union card. Evidently there was gravedoubt that he had any legal right to be in the country.     In the end, Jeff and Ann were locked in separate cells for the night.Jeff groaned and pounded the bars as he thought of his wife, imprisonedand alone in a smelly jail. After hours of pacing the cell, he lay downin the cot and reached automatically for his silver pillbox. Then hehesitated.     In past weeks, his insomnia had grown worse and worse, so that latelyhe had begun taking stronger pills. After a longing glance at thebig red and yellow capsules, he put the box away. Whatever tomorrowbrought, it wouldn't find him slow and drowsy.      IV     He passed a wakeful night. In the early morning, he looked up to see alittle man with a briefcase at his cell door.     Wish joy, Mr. Elliott, the man said coolly. I am one of Mr. Bullen'sbarmen. You know, represent at law? He sent me to arrange your release,if you are ready to be reasonable.     Jeff lay there and put his hands behind his head. I doubt if I'mready. I'm comfortable here. By the way, how did you know where I was?     No problem. When we read in this morning's newspapers about a manclaiming to be a time traveler, we knew.     All right. Now start explaining. Until I understand where I am, Bullenisn't getting me out of here.     The lawyer smiled and sat down. Mr. Kersey told you yesterday—you'vegone back six years. But you'll need some mental gymnastics tounderstand. Time is a dimension, not a stream of events like a moviefilm. A film never changes. Space does—and time does. For example, ifa movie showed a burning house at Sixth and Main, would you expect tofind a house burning whenever you returned to that corner?     You mean to say that if I went back to 1865, I wouldn't find the CivilWar was over and Lincoln had been assassinated?     If you go back to the time you call 1865—which is most easilydone—you will find that the people there know nothing of a Lincoln orthat war.     Jeff looked blank. What are they doing then?     The little man spread his hands. What are the people doing now atSixth and Main? Certainly not the same things they were doing the dayof the fire. We're talking about a dimension, not an event. Don't yougrasp the difference between the two?     Nope. To me, 1865 means the end of the Civil War. How else can youspeak of a point in time except by the events that happened then?     Well, if you go to a place in three-dimensional space—say, a lakein the mountains—how do you identify that place? By looking forlandmarks. It doesn't matter that an eagle is soaring over a mountainpeak. That's only an event. The peak is the landmark. You follow me?     So far. Keep talking.  <doc-sep>III     Oh, yes, and Jamieson had a feeble paper on what he calledindividualization in marine worms. Barr, have you ever thought muchabout the larger aspects of the problem of individuality?     Jack jumped slightly. He had let his thoughts wander very far.     Not especially, sir, he mumbled.     The house was still. A few minutes after the professor's arrival,Mrs. Kesserich had gone off with an anxious glance at Jack. He knewwhy and wished he could reassure her that he would not mention theirconversation to the professor.     Kesserich had spent perhaps a half hour briefing him on the moreimportant papers delivered at the conferences. Then, almost as ifit were a teacher's trick to show up a pupil's inattention, he hadsuddenly posed this question about individuality.     You know what I mean, of course, Kesserich pressed. The factors thatmake you you, and me me.     Heredity and environment, Jack parroted like a freshman.     Kesserich nodded. Suppose—this is just speculation—that we couldcontrol heredity and environment. Then we could re-create the sameindividual at will.     Jack felt a shiver go through him. To get exactly the same pattern ofhereditary traits. That'd be far beyond us.     What about identical twins? Kesserich pointed out. And then there'sparthenogenesis to be considered. One might produce a duplicate of themother without the intervention of the male. Although his voice hadgrown more idly speculative, Kesserich seemed to Jack to be smilingsecretly. There are many examples in the lower animal forms, to saynothing of the technique by which Loeb caused a sea urchin to reproducewith no more stimulus than a salt solution.     Jack felt the hair rising on his neck. Even then you wouldn't getexactly the same pattern of hereditary traits.     Not if the parent were of very pure stock? Not if there were somespecial technique for selecting ova that would reproduce all themother's traits?     But environment would change things, Jack objected. The duplicatewould be bound to develop differently.     Is environment so important? Newman tells about a pair of identicaltwins separated from birth, unaware of each other's existence. They metby accident when they were twenty-one. Each was a telephone repairman.Each had a wife the same age. Each had a baby son. And each had a foxterrier called 'Trixie.' That's without trying to make environmentssimilar. But suppose you did try. Suppose you saw to it that each ofthem had exactly the same experiences at the same times....     For a moment it seemed to Jack that the room was dimming and wavering,becoming a dark pool in which the only motionless thing was Kesserich'ssphinx-like face.     Well, we've escaped quite far enough from Jamieson's marine worms,the biologist said, all brisk again. He said it as if Jack were theone who had led the conversation down wild and unprofitable channels.Let's get on to your project. I want to talk it over now, because Iwon't have any time for it tomorrow.     Jack looked at him blankly.     Tomorrow I must attend to a very important matter, the biologistexplained.  <doc-sep>Purnie worked his way down the hill, imploring them to save themselves.The sounds they made carried a new tone, a desperate foreboding ofdeath.     Rhodes! Cabot! Can you hear me?     I—I can't move, Captain. My leg, it's.... My God, we're going todrown!     Look around you, Cabot. Can you see anyone moving?     The men on the beach are nearly buried, Captain. And the rest of ushere in the water—     Forbes. Can you see Forbes? Maybe he's— His sounds were cut off by awavelet gently rolling over his head.     Purnie could wait no longer. The tides were all but covering one of theanimals, and soon the others would be in the same plight. Disregardingthe consequences, he ordered time to stop.     Wading down into the surf, he worked a log off one victim, then hetugged the animal up to the sand. Through blinding tears, Purnie workedslowly and carefully. He knew there was no hurry—at least, not as faras his friends' safety was concerned. No matter what their conditionof life or death was at this moment, it would stay the same way untilhe started time again. He made his way deeper into the orange liquid,where a raised hand signalled the location of a submerged body. Thehand was clutching a large white banner that was tangled among thelogs. Purnie worked the animal free and pulled it ashore.     It was the one who had been carrying the shiny object that spit smoke.     Scarcely noticing his own injured leg, he ferried one victim afteranother until there were no more in the surf. Up on the beach, hestarted unraveling the logs that pinned down the animals caught there.He removed a log from the lap of one, who then remained in a sittingposition, his face contorted into a frozen mask of agony and shock.Another, with the weight removed, rolled over like an iron statue intoa new position. Purnie whimpered in black misery as he surveyed thechaotic scene before him.     At last he could do no more; he felt consciousness slipping away fromhim.     He instinctively knew that if he lost his senses during a period oftime-stopping, events would pick up where they had left off ... withouthim. For Purnie, this would be death. If he had to lose consciousness,he knew he must first resume time.     Step by step he plodded up the little hill, pausing every now and thento consider if this were the moment to start time before it was toolate. With his energy fast draining away, he reached the top of theknoll, and he turned to look down once more on the group below.     Then he knew how much his mind and body had suffered: when he orderedtime to resume, nothing happened.     His heart sank. He wasn't afraid of death, and he knew that if he diedthe oceans would roll again and his friends would move about. But hewanted to see them safe.     He tried to clear his mind for supreme effort. There was no      urging     time to start. He knew he couldn't persuade it by bits and pieces,first slowly then full ahead. Time either progressed or it didn't. Hehad to take one viewpoint or the other.     Then, without knowing exactly when it happened, his mind tookcommand....  <doc-sep>Star Blade whistled softly through his teeth. A huge enterprise! Itcould be ... but for a moment he had forgotten Devil Garrett.     The girl standing by his side, Star turned toward Garrett. Well?     Garrett smiled his mocking grin. You grasp the principle, of course.But let me show you ... you see those pipes that run from the turbinesafter the wheels?     Yes. They carry the gases off. Where do they lead?     Into giant subterranean caverns beneath the surface! Garrett said.Now look over there, on the platforms across from us. Can yourecognize a Barden energy-beamer, Blade? Run by power from my littleplant here, which is run by water from a thousand lakes!     Just imagine, if you can, hundreds of those plants all over AlphaIII. And each one with dozens of high-powered Barden beams to protectit! And Hinton ray screens to protect us from radio-controlled rocketshells from space, or Barden Rays, or any other weapon of offence, orto warn if anyone lands on this planet! Garrett leaned forward, hiseyes aglow.     Blade, I'll take over the few governing posts on this little planet,and I'll rule an entire world, a whole planet to myself! It'll be thefirst time in history! And it won't be the last. With the Hinton secretpatents, the plans of all John Hinton's inventions and processes....     Star twisted, and got his ace card out of its hiding place.     It was a jet weapon, little more than a jet-blast capsule for ajet-gun. The sides were thicker and stronger, and there was a devicefixed on it so it could be fired. Altogether, it was somewhat smallerthan an old-style fountain pen.     He twisted up from the floor, and moved faster than he had moved everbefore. Star was famous for his speed and the quickness and alertnessof his reflexes. He earned his fame a score of times over in that oneinstant.       And Devil Garrett died.     There was perhaps an eighth of a second between the staff of blue whitefire from the tiny jet in Star's hand and the huge broadsword of firefrom Garrett's gun. But in the split-second Star's fire knifed intoGarrett's vitals, and Garrett gave a convulsive jerk, and fired even ashis muscles started the jerking movement.     And the flame went over Star's head, singeing his scalp.     Of the four men with Garrett, one let go of the struggling Anne, andswore as he snatched at an electron knife in his belt. Anne's handhad already whipped the knife out, and without bothering to press theelectron stud, she buried the knife in his back.     Two of the remaining men whirled, and went for the door as though adevil was after them. The other tried to get a jet-gun out. It was hisfinal mistake. A blue lance from Anne's knife whipped close enough tohim to make him dodge, and then Star got his hand on Garrett's jet.     The other two men had, in their flight, taken a door which led, notinto the large corridor, but into a small room at one side, a roomfilled with instruments and recording devices for the machinery in theroom below. Star leaped to the side of the door, and called, Are yougoing to come out, or am I coming in to get you?     There was a short silence, in which Anne heard one say hoarsely, Hecan't get us ... we could get him if he came in the door.     Oh, yes? was the answer. Do you know who that guy is? He's the onethey call 'Death Star.' I'm not facing Starrett Blade in a gun fight.You can do what you like, but I'm leaving. Then he lifted his voice.Hey, Blade! I'm coming out. Don't shoot.  <doc-sep>The weeks that followed were like a blur in Willard's mind. Though theship was utterly incapable of motion, the chance meteor that damagedit had spared the convertors and assimilators. Through constant careand attention the frail balance that meant life or death could be kept.The substance of waste and refuse was torn down and rebuilt as preciousfood and air. It was even possible to create more than was needed.     When this was done, Willard immediately regretted it. For it would bethen that the days and the weeks would roll by endlessly. Sometimeshe thought he would go mad when, sitting at the useless controlboard, which was his habit, he would stare for hours and hours inthe direction of the Sun where he knew the Earth would be. A greatloneliness would then seize upon him and an agony that no man had everknown would tear at his heart. He would then turn away, full of despairand hopeless pain.     Two years after Dobbin's death a strange thing happened. Willard wassitting at his accustomed place facing the unmoving vista of the stars.A chance glance at Orion's belt froze him still. A star had flickered!Distinctly, as if a light veil had been placed over it and then lifted,it dimmed and turned bright again. What strange phenomena was this? Hewatched and then another star faded momentarily in the exact fashion.And then a third! And a fourth! And a fifth!     Willard's heart gave a leap and the lethargy of two years vanishedinstantly. Here, at last, was something to do. It might be only a fewminutes before he would understand what it was, but those few minuteswould help while away the maddening long hours. Perhaps it was a massof fine meteorites or a pocket of gas that did not disperse, or even amoving warp of space-light. Whatever it was, it was a phenomena worthinvestigating and Willard seized upon it as a dying man seizes upon thelast flashing seconds of life.     Willard traced its course by the flickering stars and gradually plottedits semi-circular course. It was not from the solar system but,instead, headed toward it. A rapid check-up on his calculations causedhis heart to beat in ever quickening excitement. Whatever it was, itwould reach the      Mary Lou     .     Again he looked out the port. Unquestionably the faint mass was nearinghis ship. It was round in shape and almost invisible. The stars,though dimmed, could still be seen through it. There was somethingabout its form that reminded him of an old-fashioned rocket ship. Itresembled one of those that had done pioneer service in the lanes fortyyears ago or more. Resembled one? It was one! Unquestionably, thoughhalf-invisible and like a piece of glass immersed in water, it was arocket ship.     But the instruments on the control board could not lie. The presence ofany material body within a hundred thousand miles would be revealed.But the needle on the gauge did not quiver. Nothing indicated thepresence of a ship. But the evidence of his eyes was incontestable.     Or was it? Doubt gripped him. Did the loneliness of all these yearsin space twist his mind till he was imagining the appearance of faintghost-like rocket ships?     The thought shot through his mind like a thunder bolt. Ghost Ship!Was this the thing that Dobbin had seen before he died? But that wasimpossible. Ghost Ships existed nowhere but in legends and tall talestold by men drunk with the liquors of Mars.     There is no ship there. There is no ship there, Willard told himselfover and over again as he looked at the vague outline of the ship, nowmotionless a few hundred miles away.     Deep within him a faint voice cried,       It's come—for me!      but Willardstilled it. This was no fantasy. There was a scientific reason for it.There must be! Or should there be? Throughout all Earth history therehad been Ghost Ships sailing the Seven Seas—ships doomed to roamforever because their crew broke some unbreakable law. If this was truefor the ships of the seas, why not for the ships of empty space?     He looked again at the strange ship. It was motionless. At least it wasnot nearing him. Willard could see nothing but its vague outline. Amoment later he could discern a faint motion. It was turning! The GhostShip was turning back! Unconsciously Willard reached out with his handas if to hold it back, for when it was gone he would be alone again.     But the Ghost Ship went on. Its outline became smaller and smaller,fainter and fainter.     Trembling, Willard turned away from the window as he saw the rocketrecede and vanish into the emptiness of space. Once more the dreadedloneliness of the stars descended upon him.  <doc-sep>It was hard to believe I was traveling in space at last. Ahead andbehind me, all the way up to where the companionway curved in outof sight, there was nothing but smooth black wall and smooth whitedoors—on and on and on.      Gee     , I thought excitedly, this is      one bigship     !     Of course, every once in a while I would run across a big scene ofstars in the void set in the wall; but they were only pictures. Nothingthat gave the feel of great empty space like I'd read about in      The BoyRocketeers     , no portholes, no visiplates, nothing.     So when I came to the crossway, I stopped for a second, then turnedleft. To the right, see, there was Deck Four, then Deck Three, leadinginward past the engine fo'c'sle to the main jets and the grav helixgoing      purr-purr-purrty-purr     in the comforting way big machinery haswhen it's happy and oiled. But to the left, the crossway led all theway to the outside level which ran just under the hull. There wereportholes on the hull.     I'd studied all that out in our cabin, long before we'd lifted, onthe transparent model of the ship hanging like a big cigar from theceiling. Sis had studied it too, but she was looking for places likethe dining salon and the library and Lifeboat 68 where we should go incase of emergency. I looked for the      important     things.     As I trotted along the crossway, I sort of wished that Sis hadn'tdecided to go after a husband on a luxury liner. On a cargo ship, now,I'd be climbing from deck to deck on a ladder instead of having gravityunderfoot all the time just like I was home on the bottom of the Gulfof Mexico. But women always know what's right, and a boy can only makefaces and do what they say, same as the men have to do.     Still, it was pretty exciting to press my nose against the slots in thewall and see the sliding panels that could come charging out and blockthe crossway into an airtight fit in case a meteor or something smashedinto the ship. And all along there were glass cases with spacesuitsstanding in them, like those knights they used to have back in theMiddle Ages.     In the event of disaster affecting the oxygen content ofcompanionway, they had the words etched into the glass, break glasswith hammer upon wall, remove spacesuit and proceed to don it in thefollowing fashion.     I read the following fashion until I knew it by heart.      Boy     , I saidto myself,      I hope we have that kind of disaster. I'd sure like to getinto one of those! Bet it would be more fun than those diving suitsback in Undersea!       And all the time I was alone. That was the best part.  <doc-sep>Star Blade stood before a transmitter, and thought about death.     He was very close to it. Garrett stood five yards away, a gun inhis hand, and the muzzle trained on Blade's chest. The gun was theuniversally used weapon of execution, an old projectile-firing weapon.     Star did not doubt that Devil Garrett was an excellent shot with it.     The girl, very round-eyed and nervous, sat by Garrett. He had explainedto her that Garrett was the type of pirate that it is law to kill, orhave executed, by anyone. Which was very true.     A man stepped away from the transmitter, and nodded to Garrett. Starfelt a surge of hope, as he saw that it was a two-way transmitter. Ifthe image of an Interstellar Command headquarters was tuned in—Garrettwould undoubtedly do it, if only to show the police that he had killedStarrett Blade—then Garrett could not kill him and cut the beam intime to prevent one of the police from giving a cry that would echoover the sub-space beam arriving almost instantly in this room, and letthe girl know that she had been tricked. And Garrett would not wantthat. Not that it would matter to Starrett Blade.     Then Star saw what kind of a transmitter it was, and he groaned. Itwas not a Hineson Sub-space beamer ... it was an old-style transmitterwhich had different wave speeds, because of the different space-bridgerunits in it.     The visual image would arrive many seconds before the sound did. Thusthe girl would not hear Garrett revealed, but would see only Blade'sdeath. And then ... whatever Garrett had planned, Blade wished heartilythat he could have the chance to interfere.     The beam was coming in. Star saw the mists swimming on the screenchange, solidify into a figure ... the figure of District CommanderWeddel seated at a desk. He saw Weddel's eyebrows rise, saw his lipsmove—then Garrett stepped over a pace, and Weddel saw him, saw the gunin his hand....     The police officer yelled, silently, and came to his feet, anexpression of shocked surprise on his face—surprise, Blade thoughtdesperately, that the girl might interpret as shock at seeing DevilGarrett.     Which was right, in a way.     Then, as Commander Weddel leapt to his feet, as Devil Garrett'sfinger tightened on the trigger, as the girl sucked in her breathinvoluntarily, Star Blade scooped up a bit of metal—a fork—and flungit at the vision transmitter.     Not at the screen. But at the equipment behind the dial-board. At acertain small unit, which was almost covered by wires and braces forthe large tubes. And the fork struck it, bit deep, and caused result.     Result in the form of a burned-out set. If television equipment cancurse, that set cursed them. Its spitting of sparks and blue electricflame mingled with a strange, high-pitched whine.     It was the diversion that caused Garrett to miss Star, which gave himtime to pull three or four of Garrett's men onto the floor with him.One of the men drove the butt of a jet-gun into the side of Star'shead, and for the third time, he went very limp. The last thing he sawwas the girl.     Somehow, the expression on her face was different from what it hadbeen. He was searching for the difference, when the blow struckhim. Somewhere in the space that lies between consciousness andunconsciousness, he reflected bitterly that if he kept staring at thegirl when he should be fighting, he might not recover some day. Thiswas the third time that he had been knocked out that way. It was notgetting monotonous. He still felt it a novelty.     Star awoke in the same prison cell, facing the wall away from the door.He wondered if he were still alive, tried to move his head, and decidedthat he wasn't. He didn't even get up or look around when he dimlyheard the door being opened.     But when he heard the girl's voice, he came up and around very swiftly,despite his head.     It was the girl all right. Even through the tumbled mists of his brain,he could see that she was not a dream. And as he reeled and fellagainst the wall, she was beside him in a flash, her arm supporting him.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the environment in which the events of DEATH STAR take place?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How did Garrett convince the girl that he was Star and Star was Garrett in the story of DEATH STAR? [SEP] <s>He stopped, and stood for a second, staring at the girl. She wassomething to invite stares, too. In the moment that lasted between hernext move, he had time to register that she was about five feet fivetall, black-haired—the kind of black hair that looks like silken spundarkness—dark-eyed, and possessing both a face and a form that wouldmake anyone stop and gulp.     Then the moment of half-awed survey was over, and she leveled the jeton him, and said in a trembling voice, Drop those weapons, or I'llblast you ...      pirate     !     Death Star said, That jet-gun is empty. I can see the register on themagazine. And I'm not a pirate. I'm Starrett Blade.     The useless jet-gun slid out of the girl's hand, and she gave ahalf-gasp. Starrett Blade! I—I don't believe ... she broke offabruptly. So you're Death Star! A fine story for a hired killer, apirate.     Star reddened. Look, he snapped, I don't know who's been talking toyou, but ... he whirled, and his hand whipped the jet-gun from hisbelt. As he did so, the girl jerked up the jet-gun she had dropped, andflung it with all her strength. The blow landed on his arm and side,and paralyzed him long enough for the man who had leaped out behind himto land a stunning blow against his head. As Star went down, he dizzilycursed himself for becoming interested in the argument with the girl,so that he did not heed his reflexes in time ... and dimly, he wonderedwhy it had seemed so important to convince the lovely dark-haired girl.     Then a bit of the cosmos seemed to fall on Star's head, and he washurled into blackness.     An eternity seemed to pass.     Deep in the blackness, a light was born. It leaped toward him, afar-away comet rocketing along, coming from some far, unknown cornerof the galaxy. It became a flaming sun in a gray-green space, andstrangely, there seemed to be several odd planets circling about thesun. Some of them were vast pieces of queer electronic machinery. Somewere vague, villainous-looking men. One was the dark-haired girl, andthere was lovely contempt in her dark-star pools of eyes.     Then into the midst of this queer universe, there swam a new planet. Itwas the face of a man, and the man was Devil Garrett.     That brought Star up, out of his daze, onto his feet as though he hadbeen doused with cold water. He stood there, not staring, just lookingat Garrett.     The most famous killer in the void was big. He was six feet three, andtwice as strong as he looked. He wore a huge high-velocity jet-gun, anda set of electron knives, all of the finest workmanship. He was sittingon a laboratory chair of steel, and the chair bent slightly under hisgreat weight.     He smiled at Star, and there was a touch of hell in the smile. He said,Ah, Mr. Garrett.     Star's jaw dropped. Garrett? What do you— he broke off. A glance atthe girl told him what the purpose was.     Look, Mr. Devil Garrett, said the pirate, still smiling softly, MissHinton is aware of your identity. There is no need to attempt to foolus.... I've known it was you ever since I flashed that beam at yourship. And you needn't flatter yourself that the Devil's luck is goingto hold out as far as you are concerned. For in a very short while,I'm going to have you executed ... before a stellar vision screen,connected with Section Void Headquarters! I wish the authorities to seeDevil Garrett die, so that I might collect the reward that is offeredon you!     Star stood quiet, and looked straight into Garrett's eyes. After aminute of silence, Garrett's lips twisted into a smile, and he saidmockingly, Well, pirate? What are you thinking of?     Star said, in a low, cold voice, I'm thinking of putting an electronfire-blade into your face, Devil Garrett!     Garrett laughed ... huge, rather evil, bluff laughter. The mirth of aperson who is both powerful and dangerous. And then the girl leapedforward, shaking with rage.     You beast! Murderer! To accuse this man ... you fool, you might havebeen able to complete any scheme of escape you had, if you hadn'tcalled yourself Starrett Blade! Mr. Blade.... She gestured towardGarrett, who made a mocking, sardonic bow. ... has given me ampleproof that he is who he says! And this long before you came. He's shownme papers giving a description and showing a tri-dimension picture ofyou....     Fire leaped in Star's eyes. Listen ... he snapped furiously, as hestarted to step forward. Then Garrett made a signal with his hand, andsomeone drove a fist against the base of Star's skull.  <doc-sep>Star Blade stood before a transmitter, and thought about death.     He was very close to it. Garrett stood five yards away, a gun inhis hand, and the muzzle trained on Blade's chest. The gun was theuniversally used weapon of execution, an old projectile-firing weapon.     Star did not doubt that Devil Garrett was an excellent shot with it.     The girl, very round-eyed and nervous, sat by Garrett. He had explainedto her that Garrett was the type of pirate that it is law to kill, orhave executed, by anyone. Which was very true.     A man stepped away from the transmitter, and nodded to Garrett. Starfelt a surge of hope, as he saw that it was a two-way transmitter. Ifthe image of an Interstellar Command headquarters was tuned in—Garrettwould undoubtedly do it, if only to show the police that he had killedStarrett Blade—then Garrett could not kill him and cut the beam intime to prevent one of the police from giving a cry that would echoover the sub-space beam arriving almost instantly in this room, and letthe girl know that she had been tricked. And Garrett would not wantthat. Not that it would matter to Starrett Blade.     Then Star saw what kind of a transmitter it was, and he groaned. Itwas not a Hineson Sub-space beamer ... it was an old-style transmitterwhich had different wave speeds, because of the different space-bridgerunits in it.     The visual image would arrive many seconds before the sound did. Thusthe girl would not hear Garrett revealed, but would see only Blade'sdeath. And then ... whatever Garrett had planned, Blade wished heartilythat he could have the chance to interfere.     The beam was coming in. Star saw the mists swimming on the screenchange, solidify into a figure ... the figure of District CommanderWeddel seated at a desk. He saw Weddel's eyebrows rise, saw his lipsmove—then Garrett stepped over a pace, and Weddel saw him, saw the gunin his hand....     The police officer yelled, silently, and came to his feet, anexpression of shocked surprise on his face—surprise, Blade thoughtdesperately, that the girl might interpret as shock at seeing DevilGarrett.     Which was right, in a way.     Then, as Commander Weddel leapt to his feet, as Devil Garrett'sfinger tightened on the trigger, as the girl sucked in her breathinvoluntarily, Star Blade scooped up a bit of metal—a fork—and flungit at the vision transmitter.     Not at the screen. But at the equipment behind the dial-board. At acertain small unit, which was almost covered by wires and braces forthe large tubes. And the fork struck it, bit deep, and caused result.     Result in the form of a burned-out set. If television equipment cancurse, that set cursed them. Its spitting of sparks and blue electricflame mingled with a strange, high-pitched whine.     It was the diversion that caused Garrett to miss Star, which gave himtime to pull three or four of Garrett's men onto the floor with him.One of the men drove the butt of a jet-gun into the side of Star'shead, and for the third time, he went very limp. The last thing he sawwas the girl.     Somehow, the expression on her face was different from what it hadbeen. He was searching for the difference, when the blow struckhim. Somewhere in the space that lies between consciousness andunconsciousness, he reflected bitterly that if he kept staring at thegirl when he should be fighting, he might not recover some day. Thiswas the third time that he had been knocked out that way. It was notgetting monotonous. He still felt it a novelty.     Star awoke in the same prison cell, facing the wall away from the door.He wondered if he were still alive, tried to move his head, and decidedthat he wasn't. He didn't even get up or look around when he dimlyheard the door being opened.     But when he heard the girl's voice, he came up and around very swiftly,despite his head.     It was the girl all right. Even through the tumbled mists of his brain,he could see that she was not a dream. And as he reeled and fellagainst the wall, she was beside him in a flash, her arm supporting him.  <doc-sep>When Star came to, he was in a cell of sorts. A man standing by thedoor told him that he was to be executed, ... after Mr. Blade and thelady have eaten. Starrett swore at him, and the man went out, with amocking Goodbye, Mr. Garrett!     Star got up. His head spun, and he almost fell at first, but the dazeleft in his head from the two blows quickly cleared away. He felt forvarious weapons which he had hidden about him ... and found them gone.Garrett's men had searched carefully.     Star sat down, his head spinning more now from mystery than fromphysical pain. He had to keep himself in a whole skin, of course. Thatwas most important right now. But other things were bothering him,tugging at his mind like waves slapping around a swamped ship, eachtrying to shove it in a different direction.     There was the girl. Star wondered why she always leaped into his mindfirst. And there was the way Garrett was trying to leave the impressionthat he was Blade, so that he could kill Blade as Garrett.     Obviously, the reason for that was the girl, Miss Hinton, Garrett hadcalled her. She had been shown faked papers by Garrett, papers provingthat the two were ... were whatever Garrett had twisted the story into!     Star clutched at his head. He was in a mess. He was going to be killed,and he was going to die without knowing the score. And he didn't likethat. Nor did he like dying as Star Blade shouldn't die; executed asa wolf's-head pirate. The girl would be watching, and he felt as ifthat would make it far worse.     His head came up, and he smiled flintily. He still had an ace card! Onehand felt for it, and he shook his head slowly. It was a gamble ... butall the others had been found.     Blade looked up quickly, as the door opened. Two men came into thecell, carrying jet-guns. They motioned Blade to his feet. Come on,Blade. One began, when the other hit him across the mouth.     You fool! he hissed. You better not call him that; suppose thatgirl was to hear it? Until the boss gets what he wants on Earth, thatgirl has got to think that he's Blade! We're killing this guy as DevilGarrett! And a loud-mouthed fool like you ... look out!     Blade had landed on the bickering men, and was grappling with the onewho had called him by name. As the other leaped forward, swinging aclubbing blow with a jet-gun, Star tripped one man into the corner, andducked under the gun. He hit the man in the stomach, drove a shoulderup under his arms, and smashed the man's face in with a series of sharpblows. The man went reeling backward across the room, and Star's handleaped toward that ace card which he still held.     Devil Garrett stepped in the door, and made a mock out of a courteousbow. As he did so, Star snarled in rage, but stood very still, for theelectron knife in Garrett's hand did not waver.     Garrett gestured silently toward the door, and Star, equally silent,walked over and out, at the point of the weapon.  <doc-sep>Star Blade whistled softly through his teeth. A huge enterprise! Itcould be ... but for a moment he had forgotten Devil Garrett.     The girl standing by his side, Star turned toward Garrett. Well?     Garrett smiled his mocking grin. You grasp the principle, of course.But let me show you ... you see those pipes that run from the turbinesafter the wheels?     Yes. They carry the gases off. Where do they lead?     Into giant subterranean caverns beneath the surface! Garrett said.Now look over there, on the platforms across from us. Can yourecognize a Barden energy-beamer, Blade? Run by power from my littleplant here, which is run by water from a thousand lakes!     Just imagine, if you can, hundreds of those plants all over AlphaIII. And each one with dozens of high-powered Barden beams to protectit! And Hinton ray screens to protect us from radio-controlled rocketshells from space, or Barden Rays, or any other weapon of offence, orto warn if anyone lands on this planet! Garrett leaned forward, hiseyes aglow.     Blade, I'll take over the few governing posts on this little planet,and I'll rule an entire world, a whole planet to myself! It'll be thefirst time in history! And it won't be the last. With the Hinton secretpatents, the plans of all John Hinton's inventions and processes....     Star twisted, and got his ace card out of its hiding place.     It was a jet weapon, little more than a jet-blast capsule for ajet-gun. The sides were thicker and stronger, and there was a devicefixed on it so it could be fired. Altogether, it was somewhat smallerthan an old-style fountain pen.     He twisted up from the floor, and moved faster than he had moved everbefore. Star was famous for his speed and the quickness and alertnessof his reflexes. He earned his fame a score of times over in that oneinstant.       And Devil Garrett died.     There was perhaps an eighth of a second between the staff of blue whitefire from the tiny jet in Star's hand and the huge broadsword of firefrom Garrett's gun. But in the split-second Star's fire knifed intoGarrett's vitals, and Garrett gave a convulsive jerk, and fired even ashis muscles started the jerking movement.     And the flame went over Star's head, singeing his scalp.     Of the four men with Garrett, one let go of the struggling Anne, andswore as he snatched at an electron knife in his belt. Anne's handhad already whipped the knife out, and without bothering to press theelectron stud, she buried the knife in his back.     Two of the remaining men whirled, and went for the door as though adevil was after them. The other tried to get a jet-gun out. It was hisfinal mistake. A blue lance from Anne's knife whipped close enough tohim to make him dodge, and then Star got his hand on Garrett's jet.     The other two men had, in their flight, taken a door which led, notinto the large corridor, but into a small room at one side, a roomfilled with instruments and recording devices for the machinery in theroom below. Star leaped to the side of the door, and called, Are yougoing to come out, or am I coming in to get you?     There was a short silence, in which Anne heard one say hoarsely, Hecan't get us ... we could get him if he came in the door.     Oh, yes? was the answer. Do you know who that guy is? He's the onethey call 'Death Star.' I'm not facing Starrett Blade in a gun fight.You can do what you like, but I'm leaving. Then he lifted his voice.Hey, Blade! I'm coming out. Don't shoot.  <doc-sep>  DEATH STAR     By TOM PACE     Trapped by the most feared of space pirates     Devil Garrett, Starrett Blade was fighting for     his life. Weaponless, his ship gone, he was     pinning his hopes on a girl—who wanted him dead.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Spring 1945.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Starrett Blade crouched in the rocks by the tiny Centaurian lake. Itwas only about two or three hundred feet across, but probably thousandsof feet deep. This lake, and hundreds of others like it, were theonly things to break the monotony of the flat, rocky surface of AlphaCentauri III—called the most barren planet in space.     Ten minutes ago, Star Blade's ship had spun into the stagnant watersbefore him. An emergency release had flung the air-lock doors open, andthe air pressure had flung Star out. And now he was waiting for DevilGarrett to come down to the water's edge to search for him.     For eight years, Devil Garrett had been the top space pirate in thevoid. For a year, Star himself had personally been hunting him. And ona tour over Alpha III, a Barden energy-beam had stabbed up at Blade'sship, and Star Blade had crashed into the lake.     That Barden Beam had Star worried and puzzled. It took a million voltsof power for a split-second flash of the beam. Garrett didn't have anatomics plant on Alpha III—if he had, escaping rays would point itout, no matter how well it was camouflaged. There was no water power,for there was no running water. There were only the lakes ... and tidalpower was out, for Alpha III had no moon.     However, that could wait. Star slid the electron knife from hiswater-proof sheath, gripped it firmly. He could hear quick footsteps asa man came down the trail that led directly past his hiding place.     It wasn't Garrett, which was disappointing. But it was one of his men,and he was heavily armed. That didn't worry Star.     His fighting had earned Starrett Blade the nickname of Death Star.     The man walked to the water's edge, and peered out over the pool. Hesaw the bubbles that were coming up from the sinking ship, and henodded, grunted in satisfaction, and started to turn back.     Star landed on him, knocking him sprawling on the rock. The piratejerked up an arm, holding the jet-gun.     The stabbing lance of blue fire cracked from the electron knife, duginto the man's heart.     Star tossed the dead pirate's cloak over his shoulders, and thrust bothelectron blade and jet-gun into his belt. He straightened, and saw theleveled gun from the corner of his eye.     He got the jet in his right hand, the knife in his left, and went intoa dive that flipped him behind a rock. The three actions took only asplit-second, and the blast from the jet-gun flaked rock where he hadbeen standing.     While a jet-gun is the most deadly weapon known, you have to press aloading stud to slide another blast-capsule into place. Death Star knewthis very well. So he knew he was safe in coming up from behind thespur of stone to fire his own gun.     If his reflexes hadn't been as quick as they were, he would haveblasted the girl.  <doc-sep>At first he tried to push himself erect, his head whirling with sickdizziness, and bewilderment. Through a twisting haze, he peered up atthe girl's face. It reflected a look that, amazingly, was one of—withno other phrase to do—compassion. Star half-sighed, and laid his headon the girl's breast, and closed his eyes.     In a minute or two, she said tensely, Are you all right? Star lookedup at her.     I guess so. Here—give a hand while I get my balance. She held him ashe tried a step or two, and then he straightened. I guess I'll be allright, now, he smiled. My head feels like—say! How come you're doingthis? What made you change your mind? And who are you?     She said quickly, breathlessly, I know you're Star Blade, now. Thattransmission set.... I can read lips! I      knew     what that officer wassaying! It was just as if I had      heard     him say that ... that you wereStarrett Blade and that man out there is Devil Garrett! she made achoking sound. And I've been here, alone, for a month! For a month!     A month? Huh—please—you...?     Star took a breath, and started over. You.... Who      are     you? What areyou doing here?     She said, I'm Anne Hinton. My father is Old John Hinton. Have youheard of him?     Of course! said Star. He manufactures most of the equipment '      BladeCosmian     ' uses. Weapons, Hineson Sub-Spacers, Star-Traveler craft ...the ship I was in when Garrett brought me down was a Hinton craft. Ishould have recognized the name. But go on. What—     Garrett communicated with dad, secretly. He posed as StarrettBlade, as you, and told dad that he was developing certain new powerprocesses. And he is! He has a new—or maybe it isn't so new—way ofelectrolyzing water to liberate hydrogen and oxygen.     I think I understand, said Star quickly. When the oxygen andhydrogen are allowed to combine, and produce an explosion which drivea turbine-generator. Then that could be hitched up to a cyclotron, andeven the most barren of Alpha's lake-rock planets could be....     No, she shook her head puzzledly. It's just electric power. He saidthat atomics would release stray rays that would attract pirates.     I know, Star nodded, abstractedly. I was thinking of anotherapplication of it ... hmm. But say! What was Garrett after? I know thathe wouldn't do this just to get a secret process sold. He must have hadanother plan behind it. Got any idea?     Anne shook her head slowly. I don't know. I can't see....     Perhaps I could help you? Devil Garrett asked smoothly from the door.     Star whirled, thrust Anne behind him, but there was no way out. Garrettstood in the door, and there were men behind him. The jet in his handcould kill both of the two at one shot. And they had no weapons toresist with.     Devil Garrett stepped them out of the room, and down the corridor,through a large door Star had noticed at the end of the passage, andinto a huge room.     It must have been a thousand feet long, and half that wide. It was atleast a hundred yards deep. And it was almost filled with giganticmachines.     Between the machinery, the spaces were almost filled with steel laddersand cat-walks. Crews of men swarmed over them. It was the largest massof equipment Starrett had ever seen.     His eyes began to pick out details. Those huge vat-like things downat the far end, with the large cables running into them, and themighty pumps connected to them ... they were probably the electrolysischambers.     And those great pipes, they must carry the hydrogen and oxygen fromthe electro chambers to the large replicas of engines, which could benothing else but the explosion chambers, where the gases were allowedto re-unite, and explode. And there by the giant engines, those must beturbines, which in turn connected with the vast-sized generators justunder the platforms on which they stood.  <doc-sep>He turned back to the window. And all because a pirate named DevilGarrett built a vast power plant to use to garner more power!     You know, Anne, as a mockery, and a warning, I think I'll propose thatthis planet be officially named ... 'Garrett'!     She looked up at him, and there was laughter bright in her eyes, andtugging at her mouth. Yes, there ought to be a reason, she murmured.Star wavered. She was so darn close.     After a minute, she turned her head, and looked up at him. Star, howsoon will there be those gardens and woods you described? I mean,how long before Garrett can be turned into that kind of world youdescribed?     Why ... under pressure, we can do it in six months. Why?     Not half quick enough, she murmured happily, but it'll have to do,Star. Laughing, she turned her face up to his. Have you ever thoughtthat planet Garrett will be wonderful for a honeymoon?   <doc-sep>Okay, threw back Star and the man appeared in the doorway, emptyhands held high. After a second, the other joined him.     Anne turned to Star. Now I know why they call you 'Death Star' Blade,she said, and gestured toward the men who had surrendered, and the twowhom Starrett had shot down.     He mused there for a minute. Then Anne broke the silence with, Star,what are we going to do now? Garrett's men will be up here in a littlewhile. We can't get to a sub-space beam. What are we going to do whenthey come up to investigate?     Starrett Blade laughed. Do? Well, we could turn them over to CommanderWeddel!           What?          Grinning broadly, Star pointed, with a flourish, at the door. Annespun about, and found Commander Weddel grinning in the door from thecorridor.     Very simple, said Star across the lounge to Anne. When I smashedthe vision set with that dinner fork, I broke a small unit which isincluded in all sets. You know, a direction finder doesn't work, exceptin the liner-beam principle, in space, because of the diffusing effectof unrestricted cosmic rays.     Yes, I knew that, said Anne. But how—     Starrett grinned again. A type of beam has been found which it isimpossible for cosmics to disturb. But you can't send messages onit, so it is made in a little unit on every set. If that unit isbroken, the set automatically releases a signal beam. This is adistress signal, and the location of the set that sent out the signalis recorded at the Section Headquarters. When Commander Weddel sawme throw something at the set, and it went dead, he looked at theautomatic record, and found out that a signal had been sent in froma location on Alpha Cen's third planet. Then he had a high-velocitycruiser brought out and dropped in, in time to pick up some pieces. Hestopped, and idly toyed with a sheaf of papers, then held them up. Seethese papers?     Uh-huh. What are they, Star?     They are the main plans of Devil Garrett's power plant, and they'rethe one good thing he's ever done. These plans are going to bring thebarren, rocky Centauri planets to life!     He got up, and paced to the window, and stood there, looking out, andup through the plastic port. The planets of Centauri! he murmuredsoftly. Seven circling Alpha alone. And all seven are barren, rocky,level except for the thousands of lakes ... lakes that are going to bethe life of Centauri!  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How did Garrett convince the girl that he was Star and Star was Garrett in the story of DEATH STAR?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What are the tools and gadgets utilized by Star in the narrative of DEATH STAR? [SEP] <s>  DEATH STAR     By TOM PACE     Trapped by the most feared of space pirates     Devil Garrett, Starrett Blade was fighting for     his life. Weaponless, his ship gone, he was     pinning his hopes on a girl—who wanted him dead.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Spring 1945.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Starrett Blade crouched in the rocks by the tiny Centaurian lake. Itwas only about two or three hundred feet across, but probably thousandsof feet deep. This lake, and hundreds of others like it, were theonly things to break the monotony of the flat, rocky surface of AlphaCentauri III—called the most barren planet in space.     Ten minutes ago, Star Blade's ship had spun into the stagnant watersbefore him. An emergency release had flung the air-lock doors open, andthe air pressure had flung Star out. And now he was waiting for DevilGarrett to come down to the water's edge to search for him.     For eight years, Devil Garrett had been the top space pirate in thevoid. For a year, Star himself had personally been hunting him. And ona tour over Alpha III, a Barden energy-beam had stabbed up at Blade'sship, and Star Blade had crashed into the lake.     That Barden Beam had Star worried and puzzled. It took a million voltsof power for a split-second flash of the beam. Garrett didn't have anatomics plant on Alpha III—if he had, escaping rays would point itout, no matter how well it was camouflaged. There was no water power,for there was no running water. There were only the lakes ... and tidalpower was out, for Alpha III had no moon.     However, that could wait. Star slid the electron knife from hiswater-proof sheath, gripped it firmly. He could hear quick footsteps asa man came down the trail that led directly past his hiding place.     It wasn't Garrett, which was disappointing. But it was one of his men,and he was heavily armed. That didn't worry Star.     His fighting had earned Starrett Blade the nickname of Death Star.     The man walked to the water's edge, and peered out over the pool. Hesaw the bubbles that were coming up from the sinking ship, and henodded, grunted in satisfaction, and started to turn back.     Star landed on him, knocking him sprawling on the rock. The piratejerked up an arm, holding the jet-gun.     The stabbing lance of blue fire cracked from the electron knife, duginto the man's heart.     Star tossed the dead pirate's cloak over his shoulders, and thrust bothelectron blade and jet-gun into his belt. He straightened, and saw theleveled gun from the corner of his eye.     He got the jet in his right hand, the knife in his left, and went intoa dive that flipped him behind a rock. The three actions took only asplit-second, and the blast from the jet-gun flaked rock where he hadbeen standing.     While a jet-gun is the most deadly weapon known, you have to press aloading stud to slide another blast-capsule into place. Death Star knewthis very well. So he knew he was safe in coming up from behind thespur of stone to fire his own gun.     If his reflexes hadn't been as quick as they were, he would haveblasted the girl.  <doc-sep>It was completely illegal, of course. The wonder was that Ego Prime,Inc., ever got to put their product on the market at all, once thenation's housewives got wind of just what their product was.     From the first, there was rigid Federal control and laws regulating theuse of Primes right down to the local level. You could get a licensefor a Utility model Prime if you were a big business executive, or ahigh public official, or a movie star, or something like that; but eventhen his circuits had to be inspected every two months, and he had tohave a thousand built-in Paralyzers, and you had to specify in advanceexactly what you wanted your Prime to be able to do when, where, how,why, and under what circumstances.     The law didn't leave a man much leeway.     But everybody knew that if you      really     wanted a personal Prime withall his circuits open and no questions asked, you could get one. Blackmarket prices were steep and you ran your own risk, but it could bedone.     Harry Folsom told his friend who knew a guy, and a few greenbacks gotlost somewhere, and I found myself looking at a greasy little man witha black mustache and a bald spot, up in a dingy fourth-story warehouseoff lower Broadway.     Ah, yes, the little man said. Mr. Faircloth. We've been expectingyou.  <doc-sep>He stopped, and stood for a second, staring at the girl. She wassomething to invite stares, too. In the moment that lasted between hernext move, he had time to register that she was about five feet fivetall, black-haired—the kind of black hair that looks like silken spundarkness—dark-eyed, and possessing both a face and a form that wouldmake anyone stop and gulp.     Then the moment of half-awed survey was over, and she leveled the jeton him, and said in a trembling voice, Drop those weapons, or I'llblast you ...      pirate     !     Death Star said, That jet-gun is empty. I can see the register on themagazine. And I'm not a pirate. I'm Starrett Blade.     The useless jet-gun slid out of the girl's hand, and she gave ahalf-gasp. Starrett Blade! I—I don't believe ... she broke offabruptly. So you're Death Star! A fine story for a hired killer, apirate.     Star reddened. Look, he snapped, I don't know who's been talking toyou, but ... he whirled, and his hand whipped the jet-gun from hisbelt. As he did so, the girl jerked up the jet-gun she had dropped, andflung it with all her strength. The blow landed on his arm and side,and paralyzed him long enough for the man who had leaped out behind himto land a stunning blow against his head. As Star went down, he dizzilycursed himself for becoming interested in the argument with the girl,so that he did not heed his reflexes in time ... and dimly, he wonderedwhy it had seemed so important to convince the lovely dark-haired girl.     Then a bit of the cosmos seemed to fall on Star's head, and he washurled into blackness.     An eternity seemed to pass.     Deep in the blackness, a light was born. It leaped toward him, afar-away comet rocketing along, coming from some far, unknown cornerof the galaxy. It became a flaming sun in a gray-green space, andstrangely, there seemed to be several odd planets circling about thesun. Some of them were vast pieces of queer electronic machinery. Somewere vague, villainous-looking men. One was the dark-haired girl, andthere was lovely contempt in her dark-star pools of eyes.     Then into the midst of this queer universe, there swam a new planet. Itwas the face of a man, and the man was Devil Garrett.     That brought Star up, out of his daze, onto his feet as though he hadbeen doused with cold water. He stood there, not staring, just lookingat Garrett.     The most famous killer in the void was big. He was six feet three, andtwice as strong as he looked. He wore a huge high-velocity jet-gun, anda set of electron knives, all of the finest workmanship. He was sittingon a laboratory chair of steel, and the chair bent slightly under hisgreat weight.     He smiled at Star, and there was a touch of hell in the smile. He said,Ah, Mr. Garrett.     Star's jaw dropped. Garrett? What do you— he broke off. A glance atthe girl told him what the purpose was.     Look, Mr. Devil Garrett, said the pirate, still smiling softly, MissHinton is aware of your identity. There is no need to attempt to foolus.... I've known it was you ever since I flashed that beam at yourship. And you needn't flatter yourself that the Devil's luck is goingto hold out as far as you are concerned. For in a very short while,I'm going to have you executed ... before a stellar vision screen,connected with Section Void Headquarters! I wish the authorities to seeDevil Garrett die, so that I might collect the reward that is offeredon you!     Star stood quiet, and looked straight into Garrett's eyes. After aminute of silence, Garrett's lips twisted into a smile, and he saidmockingly, Well, pirate? What are you thinking of?     Star said, in a low, cold voice, I'm thinking of putting an electronfire-blade into your face, Devil Garrett!     Garrett laughed ... huge, rather evil, bluff laughter. The mirth of aperson who is both powerful and dangerous. And then the girl leapedforward, shaking with rage.     You beast! Murderer! To accuse this man ... you fool, you might havebeen able to complete any scheme of escape you had, if you hadn'tcalled yourself Starrett Blade! Mr. Blade.... She gestured towardGarrett, who made a mocking, sardonic bow. ... has given me ampleproof that he is who he says! And this long before you came. He's shownme papers giving a description and showing a tri-dimension picture ofyou....     Fire leaped in Star's eyes. Listen ... he snapped furiously, as hestarted to step forward. Then Garrett made a signal with his hand, andsomeone drove a fist against the base of Star's skull.  <doc-sep>Star Blade stood before a transmitter, and thought about death.     He was very close to it. Garrett stood five yards away, a gun inhis hand, and the muzzle trained on Blade's chest. The gun was theuniversally used weapon of execution, an old projectile-firing weapon.     Star did not doubt that Devil Garrett was an excellent shot with it.     The girl, very round-eyed and nervous, sat by Garrett. He had explainedto her that Garrett was the type of pirate that it is law to kill, orhave executed, by anyone. Which was very true.     A man stepped away from the transmitter, and nodded to Garrett. Starfelt a surge of hope, as he saw that it was a two-way transmitter. Ifthe image of an Interstellar Command headquarters was tuned in—Garrettwould undoubtedly do it, if only to show the police that he had killedStarrett Blade—then Garrett could not kill him and cut the beam intime to prevent one of the police from giving a cry that would echoover the sub-space beam arriving almost instantly in this room, and letthe girl know that she had been tricked. And Garrett would not wantthat. Not that it would matter to Starrett Blade.     Then Star saw what kind of a transmitter it was, and he groaned. Itwas not a Hineson Sub-space beamer ... it was an old-style transmitterwhich had different wave speeds, because of the different space-bridgerunits in it.     The visual image would arrive many seconds before the sound did. Thusthe girl would not hear Garrett revealed, but would see only Blade'sdeath. And then ... whatever Garrett had planned, Blade wished heartilythat he could have the chance to interfere.     The beam was coming in. Star saw the mists swimming on the screenchange, solidify into a figure ... the figure of District CommanderWeddel seated at a desk. He saw Weddel's eyebrows rise, saw his lipsmove—then Garrett stepped over a pace, and Weddel saw him, saw the gunin his hand....     The police officer yelled, silently, and came to his feet, anexpression of shocked surprise on his face—surprise, Blade thoughtdesperately, that the girl might interpret as shock at seeing DevilGarrett.     Which was right, in a way.     Then, as Commander Weddel leapt to his feet, as Devil Garrett'sfinger tightened on the trigger, as the girl sucked in her breathinvoluntarily, Star Blade scooped up a bit of metal—a fork—and flungit at the vision transmitter.     Not at the screen. But at the equipment behind the dial-board. At acertain small unit, which was almost covered by wires and braces forthe large tubes. And the fork struck it, bit deep, and caused result.     Result in the form of a burned-out set. If television equipment cancurse, that set cursed them. Its spitting of sparks and blue electricflame mingled with a strange, high-pitched whine.     It was the diversion that caused Garrett to miss Star, which gave himtime to pull three or four of Garrett's men onto the floor with him.One of the men drove the butt of a jet-gun into the side of Star'shead, and for the third time, he went very limp. The last thing he sawwas the girl.     Somehow, the expression on her face was different from what it hadbeen. He was searching for the difference, when the blow struckhim. Somewhere in the space that lies between consciousness andunconsciousness, he reflected bitterly that if he kept staring at thegirl when he should be fighting, he might not recover some day. Thiswas the third time that he had been knocked out that way. It was notgetting monotonous. He still felt it a novelty.     Star awoke in the same prison cell, facing the wall away from the door.He wondered if he were still alive, tried to move his head, and decidedthat he wasn't. He didn't even get up or look around when he dimlyheard the door being opened.     But when he heard the girl's voice, he came up and around very swiftly,despite his head.     It was the girl all right. Even through the tumbled mists of his brain,he could see that she was not a dream. And as he reeled and fellagainst the wall, she was beside him in a flash, her arm supporting him.  <doc-sep>Okay, threw back Star and the man appeared in the doorway, emptyhands held high. After a second, the other joined him.     Anne turned to Star. Now I know why they call you 'Death Star' Blade,she said, and gestured toward the men who had surrendered, and the twowhom Starrett had shot down.     He mused there for a minute. Then Anne broke the silence with, Star,what are we going to do now? Garrett's men will be up here in a littlewhile. We can't get to a sub-space beam. What are we going to do whenthey come up to investigate?     Starrett Blade laughed. Do? Well, we could turn them over to CommanderWeddel!           What?          Grinning broadly, Star pointed, with a flourish, at the door. Annespun about, and found Commander Weddel grinning in the door from thecorridor.     Very simple, said Star across the lounge to Anne. When I smashedthe vision set with that dinner fork, I broke a small unit which isincluded in all sets. You know, a direction finder doesn't work, exceptin the liner-beam principle, in space, because of the diffusing effectof unrestricted cosmic rays.     Yes, I knew that, said Anne. But how—     Starrett grinned again. A type of beam has been found which it isimpossible for cosmics to disturb. But you can't send messages onit, so it is made in a little unit on every set. If that unit isbroken, the set automatically releases a signal beam. This is adistress signal, and the location of the set that sent out the signalis recorded at the Section Headquarters. When Commander Weddel sawme throw something at the set, and it went dead, he looked at theautomatic record, and found out that a signal had been sent in froma location on Alpha Cen's third planet. Then he had a high-velocitycruiser brought out and dropped in, in time to pick up some pieces. Hestopped, and idly toyed with a sheaf of papers, then held them up. Seethese papers?     Uh-huh. What are they, Star?     They are the main plans of Devil Garrett's power plant, and they'rethe one good thing he's ever done. These plans are going to bring thebarren, rocky Centauri planets to life!     He got up, and paced to the window, and stood there, looking out, andup through the plastic port. The planets of Centauri! he murmuredsoftly. Seven circling Alpha alone. And all seven are barren, rocky,level except for the thousands of lakes ... lakes that are going to bethe life of Centauri!  <doc-sep>Back in the control room, Gwayne found the emergency release levers,set the combinations and pressed the studs. There was a hiss and gurgleas the great tanks of fuel discharged their contents out onto theground where no ingenuity could ever recover it to bring life to theship again.     He'd have to tell the men and women of the crew later, after he'd hadtime to organize things and present it all in a way they could accept,however much they might hate it at first. But there was no putting offgiving the gist of it to Jane.     It was the blobs, he summarized it. They seem to be amused by men.They don't require anything from us, but they like us around. Hennessydoesn't know why. They can change our cells, adapt us. Before men came,all life here had twelve legs. Now they're changing that, as we've seen.     And they don't have to be close to do it. We've all been outside thehull. It doesn't show yet—but we're changed. In another month, Earthfood would kill us. We've got to stay here. We'll bury the ships deeperthis time, and Earth won't find us. They can't risk trying a colonywhere three ships vanish, so we'll just disappear. And they'll neverknow.     Nobody would know. Their children—odd children who matured in eightyears—would be primitive savages in three generations. The Earthtools would be useless, impossible for the hands so radically changed.Nothing from the ship would last. Books could never be read by the neweyes. And in time, Earth wouldn't even be a memory to this world.     She was silent a long time, staring out of the port toward what mustnow be her home. Then she sighed. You'll need practice, but the othersdon't know you as well as I do, Bob. I guess we can fix it so they'llbelieve it all. And it's too late now. But we haven't really beenchanged yet, have we?     No, he admitted. Damn his voice! He'd never been good at lying. No.They have to touch us. I've been touched, but the rest could go back.     She nodded. He waited for the condemnation, but there was onlypuzzlement in her face. Why?     And then, before he could answer, her own intelligence gave her thesame answer he had found for himself. The spawning ground!     It was the only thing they could do. Earth needed a place to plant herseed, but no world other than Earth could ever be trusted to preservethat seed for generation after generation. Some worlds already werebecoming uncertain.     Here, though, the blobs had adapted men to the alien world instead ofmen having to adapt the whole planet to their needs. Here, the strangechildren of man's race could grow, develop and begin the long trek backto civilization. The gadgets would be lost for a time. But perhapssome of the attitudes of civilized man would remain to make the nextrise to culture a better one.     We're needed here, he told her, his voice pleading for theunderstanding he couldn't yet fully give himself. These people needas rich a set of bloodlines as possible to give the new race strength.The fifty men and women on this ship will be needed to start them witha decent chance. We can't go to Earth, where nobody would believe oraccept the idea—or even let us come back. We have to stay here.     She smiled then and moved toward him, groping for his strength. Befruitful, she whispered. Be fruitful and spawn and replenish anearth.     No, he told her. Replenish the stars.     But she was no longer listening, and that part of his idea could wait.     Some day, though, their children would find a way to the starlanesagain, looking for other worlds. With the blobs to help them, theycould adapt to most worlds. The unchanged spirit would lead themthrough all space, and the changing bodies would claim worlds beyondnumbering.     Some day, the whole universe would be a spawning ground for thechildren of men!  <doc-sep>Star Blade whistled softly through his teeth. A huge enterprise! Itcould be ... but for a moment he had forgotten Devil Garrett.     The girl standing by his side, Star turned toward Garrett. Well?     Garrett smiled his mocking grin. You grasp the principle, of course.But let me show you ... you see those pipes that run from the turbinesafter the wheels?     Yes. They carry the gases off. Where do they lead?     Into giant subterranean caverns beneath the surface! Garrett said.Now look over there, on the platforms across from us. Can yourecognize a Barden energy-beamer, Blade? Run by power from my littleplant here, which is run by water from a thousand lakes!     Just imagine, if you can, hundreds of those plants all over AlphaIII. And each one with dozens of high-powered Barden beams to protectit! And Hinton ray screens to protect us from radio-controlled rocketshells from space, or Barden Rays, or any other weapon of offence, orto warn if anyone lands on this planet! Garrett leaned forward, hiseyes aglow.     Blade, I'll take over the few governing posts on this little planet,and I'll rule an entire world, a whole planet to myself! It'll be thefirst time in history! And it won't be the last. With the Hinton secretpatents, the plans of all John Hinton's inventions and processes....     Star twisted, and got his ace card out of its hiding place.     It was a jet weapon, little more than a jet-blast capsule for ajet-gun. The sides were thicker and stronger, and there was a devicefixed on it so it could be fired. Altogether, it was somewhat smallerthan an old-style fountain pen.     He twisted up from the floor, and moved faster than he had moved everbefore. Star was famous for his speed and the quickness and alertnessof his reflexes. He earned his fame a score of times over in that oneinstant.       And Devil Garrett died.     There was perhaps an eighth of a second between the staff of blue whitefire from the tiny jet in Star's hand and the huge broadsword of firefrom Garrett's gun. But in the split-second Star's fire knifed intoGarrett's vitals, and Garrett gave a convulsive jerk, and fired even ashis muscles started the jerking movement.     And the flame went over Star's head, singeing his scalp.     Of the four men with Garrett, one let go of the struggling Anne, andswore as he snatched at an electron knife in his belt. Anne's handhad already whipped the knife out, and without bothering to press theelectron stud, she buried the knife in his back.     Two of the remaining men whirled, and went for the door as though adevil was after them. The other tried to get a jet-gun out. It was hisfinal mistake. A blue lance from Anne's knife whipped close enough tohim to make him dodge, and then Star got his hand on Garrett's jet.     The other two men had, in their flight, taken a door which led, notinto the large corridor, but into a small room at one side, a roomfilled with instruments and recording devices for the machinery in theroom below. Star leaped to the side of the door, and called, Are yougoing to come out, or am I coming in to get you?     There was a short silence, in which Anne heard one say hoarsely, Hecan't get us ... we could get him if he came in the door.     Oh, yes? was the answer. Do you know who that guy is? He's the onethey call 'Death Star.' I'm not facing Starrett Blade in a gun fight.You can do what you like, but I'm leaving. Then he lifted his voice.Hey, Blade! I'm coming out. Don't shoot.  <doc-sep>The weeks that followed were like a blur in Willard's mind. Though theship was utterly incapable of motion, the chance meteor that damagedit had spared the convertors and assimilators. Through constant careand attention the frail balance that meant life or death could be kept.The substance of waste and refuse was torn down and rebuilt as preciousfood and air. It was even possible to create more than was needed.     When this was done, Willard immediately regretted it. For it would bethen that the days and the weeks would roll by endlessly. Sometimeshe thought he would go mad when, sitting at the useless controlboard, which was his habit, he would stare for hours and hours inthe direction of the Sun where he knew the Earth would be. A greatloneliness would then seize upon him and an agony that no man had everknown would tear at his heart. He would then turn away, full of despairand hopeless pain.     Two years after Dobbin's death a strange thing happened. Willard wassitting at his accustomed place facing the unmoving vista of the stars.A chance glance at Orion's belt froze him still. A star had flickered!Distinctly, as if a light veil had been placed over it and then lifted,it dimmed and turned bright again. What strange phenomena was this? Hewatched and then another star faded momentarily in the exact fashion.And then a third! And a fourth! And a fifth!     Willard's heart gave a leap and the lethargy of two years vanishedinstantly. Here, at last, was something to do. It might be only a fewminutes before he would understand what it was, but those few minuteswould help while away the maddening long hours. Perhaps it was a massof fine meteorites or a pocket of gas that did not disperse, or even amoving warp of space-light. Whatever it was, it was a phenomena worthinvestigating and Willard seized upon it as a dying man seizes upon thelast flashing seconds of life.     Willard traced its course by the flickering stars and gradually plottedits semi-circular course. It was not from the solar system but,instead, headed toward it. A rapid check-up on his calculations causedhis heart to beat in ever quickening excitement. Whatever it was, itwould reach the      Mary Lou     .     Again he looked out the port. Unquestionably the faint mass was nearinghis ship. It was round in shape and almost invisible. The stars,though dimmed, could still be seen through it. There was somethingabout its form that reminded him of an old-fashioned rocket ship. Itresembled one of those that had done pioneer service in the lanes fortyyears ago or more. Resembled one? It was one! Unquestionably, thoughhalf-invisible and like a piece of glass immersed in water, it was arocket ship.     But the instruments on the control board could not lie. The presence ofany material body within a hundred thousand miles would be revealed.But the needle on the gauge did not quiver. Nothing indicated thepresence of a ship. But the evidence of his eyes was incontestable.     Or was it? Doubt gripped him. Did the loneliness of all these yearsin space twist his mind till he was imagining the appearance of faintghost-like rocket ships?     The thought shot through his mind like a thunder bolt. Ghost Ship!Was this the thing that Dobbin had seen before he died? But that wasimpossible. Ghost Ships existed nowhere but in legends and tall talestold by men drunk with the liquors of Mars.     There is no ship there. There is no ship there, Willard told himselfover and over again as he looked at the vague outline of the ship, nowmotionless a few hundred miles away.     Deep within him a faint voice cried,       It's come—for me!      but Willardstilled it. This was no fantasy. There was a scientific reason for it.There must be! Or should there be? Throughout all Earth history therehad been Ghost Ships sailing the Seven Seas—ships doomed to roamforever because their crew broke some unbreakable law. If this was truefor the ships of the seas, why not for the ships of empty space?     He looked again at the strange ship. It was motionless. At least it wasnot nearing him. Willard could see nothing but its vague outline. Amoment later he could discern a faint motion. It was turning! The GhostShip was turning back! Unconsciously Willard reached out with his handas if to hold it back, for when it was gone he would be alone again.     But the Ghost Ship went on. Its outline became smaller and smaller,fainter and fainter.     Trembling, Willard turned away from the window as he saw the rocketrecede and vanish into the emptiness of space. Once more the dreadedloneliness of the stars descended upon him.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What are the tools and gadgets utilized by Star in the narrative of DEATH STAR?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in The Snare? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>   The Snare     By RICHARD R. SMITH     Illustrated by WEISS     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy January 1956.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright     on this publication was renewed.]        It's easy to find a solution when there is one—the trick is to do itif there is none!        I glanced at the path we had made across the      Mare Serenitatis     . TheLatin translated as the Sea of Serenity. It was well named because,as far as the eye could see in every direction, there was a smoothlayer of pumice that resembled the surface of a calm sea. Scatteredacross the quiet sea of virgin Moon dust were occasional islandsof rock that jutted abruptly toward the infinity of stars above.Considering everything, our surroundings conveyed a sense of serenitylike none I had ever felt.     Our bounding path across the level expanse was clearly marked. Becauseof the light gravity, we had leaped high into the air with each stepand every time we struck the ground, the impact had raised a cloud ofdustlike pumice. Now the clouds of dust were slowly settling in thelight gravity.     Above us, the stars were cold, motionless and crystal-clear.Indifferently, they sprayed a faint light on our surroundings ... adim glow that was hardly sufficient for normal vision and was too weakto be reflected toward Earth.     We turned our head-lamps on the strange object before us. Five beamsof light illuminated the smooth shape that protruded from the Moon'ssurface.     The incongruity was so awesome that for several minutes, we remainedmotionless and quiet. Miller broke the silence with his quaveringvoice, Strange someone didn't notice it before.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>For several minutes, we sampled the different foods. Every one had adistinctive flavor, comparable to that of a fruit or vegetable on Earth.     Kane lifted a brown bottle to his lips, took a huge gulp and almostchoked.     Whiskey!     My masters realized your race would develop intoxicants and tried tocreate a comparable one, the machine explained.     I selected a brown bottle and sampled the liquid. A little strongerthan our own, I informed the machine.     We drank until Kane was staggering about the room, shouting insults atthe alien race and the mechanical voice that seemed to be everywhere.He beat his fist against a wall until blood trickled from bruisedknuckles.     Please don't hurt yourself, the machine pleaded.           Why?      Kane screamed at the ceiling. Why should you care?     My masters will be displeased with me if you arrive in a damagedcondition.     Kane banged his head against a bulkhead; an ugly bruise formed rapidly.Shtop me, then!     I can't. My masters created no way for me to restrain or contact youother than use of your language.     It took fully fifteen minutes to drag Kane to his sleeping compartment.     After I left Kane in his wife's care, I went to the adjoining room andstretched out on the soft floor beside Verana.     I tried to think of some solution. We were locked in an alien ship atthe start of a six months' journey to a strange planet. We had no toolsor weapons.     Solution? I doubted if two dozen geniuses working steadily for yearscould think of one!     I wondered what the alien race was like. Intelligent, surely: They hadforeseen our conquest of space flight when we hadn't even inventedthe wheel. That thought awed me—somehow they had analyzed our brainsthousands of years ago and calculated what our future accomplishmentswould be.     They had been able to predict our scientific development, but theyhadn't been able to tell how our civilization would develop. They werecurious, so they had left an enormously elaborate piece of bait on theMoon.     The aliens were incredibly more advanced than ourselves. I couldn'thelp thinking,      And to a rabbit in a snare, mankind must seemimpossibly clever     .     I decided to ask the machine about its makers in the morning.  <doc-sep>Kane stalked into the room at that moment, his face red with anger.      Do you know where we are?      he demanded. When those damned aliensgot me in that room, they explained what this is all about. We'reguinea pigs!     Did they use telepathy to explain? Verana asked. I suddenlyremembered that she was a member of a club that investigatedextra-sensory perception with the hope of learning how it operated. Shewas probably sorry she hadn't been contacted telepathically.     Yeah, Kane replied. I saw all sorts of mental pictures and theyexplained what they did to us. Those damned aliens want us for theirzoo!     Start at the beginning, I suggested.     He flashed an angry glance at me, but seemed to calm somewhat. Thisship was made by a race from another galaxy. Thousands of years ago,they came to Earth in their spaceships when men were primitives livingin caves. They wanted to know what our civilization would be likewhen we developed space flight. So they put this ship on the Moon as asort of booby-trap. They put it there with the idea that when we madespaceships and went to the Moon, sooner or later, we'd find the shipand enter it—      like rabbits in a snare!          And now the booby-trap is on its way home, I guessed.     Yeah, this ship is taking us to their planet and they're going to keepus there while they study us.     How long will the trip take? I asked.     Six months. We'll be bottled up in this crate for six whole damnedmonths! And when we get there, we'll be prisoners!     Marie's hypnotic spell was fading and once more her face showed theterror inside her.     Don't feel so bad, I told Kane. It could be worse. It should beinteresting to see an alien race. We'll have our wives with us—     Maybe they'll dissect us! Marie gasped.     Verana scoffed. A race intelligent enough to build a ship like this? Arace that was traveling between the stars when we were living in caves?Dissection is primitive. They won't      have to     dissect us in order tostudy us. They'll have more advanced methods.     Maybe we can reach the ship's controls somehow, Kane said excitedly.We've got to try to change the ship's course and get back to theMoon!     It's impossible. Don't waste your time. The voice had no visiblesource and seemed to fill the room.  <doc-sep>   HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS     By JIM HARMON     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Every lonely man tries to make friends.     Manet just didn't know when to stop!      William Manet was alone.     In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It wouldgive him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlateloneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take himto start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to beginteaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminablelectures to a bored and captive audience of one.     He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whetherit was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and asdirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal andthink more like a god than any man for generations.     But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearingbore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.     Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was alreadytalking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he hadcut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up andwinked at it whenever he passed that way.     Lately she was winking back at him.     Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh fromhis arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.     No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manetcould only be this lonely on Mars.     Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.     All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middleof the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat,flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in theblack sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moonsand one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The wholegimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one wasneeded here—no human being, at least.     The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn'ttake much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefullyspecified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycombMars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.     They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated peoplefor the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going toisolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manetand his fellows.     The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fareto Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuterservice for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodationsfor couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren'tproviding fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits betweenthe various Overseers. They weren't very providential.     But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offeredwonderful opportunities.     It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship makinga tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning asbright as envy.  <doc-sep>She was pink and clean and her platinum hair was pulled straight back,drawing her cheek-bones tighter, straightening her wide, appealingmouth, drawing her lean, athletic, feminine body erect. She was wearinga powder-blue dress that covered all of her breasts and hips and theupper half of her legs.     The most wonderful thing about her was her perfume. Then I realized itwasn't perfume, only the scent of soap. Finally, I knew it wasn't that.It was just healthy, fresh-scrubbed skin.     I went to her at the bus stop, forcing my legs not to stagger. Nobodywould help a drunk. I don't know why, but nobody will help you if theythink you are blotto.     Ma'am, could you help a man who's not had work? I kept my eyes down.I couldn't look a human in the eye and ask for help. Just a dime for acup of coffee. I knew where I could get it for three cents, maybe twoand a half.     I felt her looking at me. She spoke in an educated voice, one she used,perhaps, as a teacher or supervising telephone operator. Do you wantit for coffee, or to apply, or a glass or hypo of something else?     I cringed and whined. She would expect it of me. I suddenly realizedthat anybody as clean as she was had to be a tourist here. I hatetourists.     Just coffee, ma'am. She was younger than I was, so I didn't have tocall her that. A little more for food, if you could spare it.     I hadn't eaten in a day and a half, but I didn't care much.     I'll buy you a dinner, she said carefully, provided I can go withyou and see for myself that you actually eat it.     I felt my face flushing red. You wouldn't want to be seen with a bumlike me, ma'am.     I'll be seen with you if you really want to eat.     It was certainly unfair and probably immoral. But I had no choicewhatever.     Okay, I said, tasting bitterness over the craving.  <doc-sep>A few weeks of this and I became a bit dazed.     And then there was the problem of everyday existence. You might sayit's lucky to be an N/P for a while. I've heard people say that. Basicneeds provided, worlds of leisure time; on the surface it soundsattractive.     But let me give you an example. Say it is monthly realfood day. You goto the store, your mouth already watering in anticipation. You takeyour place in line and wait for your package. The distributor takesyour coupon book and is all ready to reach for your package—and thenhe sees the fatal letters N/P. Non-Producer. A drone, a drain upon theState. You can see his stare curdle. He scowls at the book again.     Not sure this is in order. Better go to the end of the line. We'llcheck it later.     You know what happens before the end of the line reaches the counter.No more packages.     Well, I couldn't get myself off N/P status until I got a post, andwith my name I      couldn't     get a post.     Nor could I change my name. You know what happens when you try tochange something already on the records. The very idea of wantingchange implies criticism of the State. Unthinkable behavior.     That was why this curious dream voice shocked me so. The thing that itsuggested was quite as embarrassing as its non-standard, emotional,provocative tone.     Bear with me; I'm getting to the voice—to      her     —in a moment.     I want to tell you first about the loneliness, the terrible loneliness.I could hardly join group games at any of the rec centers. I could joinno special interest clubs or even State Loyalty chapters. Although Idabbled with theoretical research in my own quarters, I could scarcelysubmit any findings for publication—not with my name attached. Apseudonym would have been non-regulation and illegal.     But there was the worst thing of all. I could not mate.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in The Snare?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you tell me where The Snare takes place? [SEP] <s>For several minutes, we sampled the different foods. Every one had adistinctive flavor, comparable to that of a fruit or vegetable on Earth.     Kane lifted a brown bottle to his lips, took a huge gulp and almostchoked.     Whiskey!     My masters realized your race would develop intoxicants and tried tocreate a comparable one, the machine explained.     I selected a brown bottle and sampled the liquid. A little strongerthan our own, I informed the machine.     We drank until Kane was staggering about the room, shouting insults atthe alien race and the mechanical voice that seemed to be everywhere.He beat his fist against a wall until blood trickled from bruisedknuckles.     Please don't hurt yourself, the machine pleaded.           Why?      Kane screamed at the ceiling. Why should you care?     My masters will be displeased with me if you arrive in a damagedcondition.     Kane banged his head against a bulkhead; an ugly bruise formed rapidly.Shtop me, then!     I can't. My masters created no way for me to restrain or contact youother than use of your language.     It took fully fifteen minutes to drag Kane to his sleeping compartment.     After I left Kane in his wife's care, I went to the adjoining room andstretched out on the soft floor beside Verana.     I tried to think of some solution. We were locked in an alien ship atthe start of a six months' journey to a strange planet. We had no toolsor weapons.     Solution? I doubted if two dozen geniuses working steadily for yearscould think of one!     I wondered what the alien race was like. Intelligent, surely: They hadforeseen our conquest of space flight when we hadn't even inventedthe wheel. That thought awed me—somehow they had analyzed our brainsthousands of years ago and calculated what our future accomplishmentswould be.     They had been able to predict our scientific development, but theyhadn't been able to tell how our civilization would develop. They werecurious, so they had left an enormously elaborate piece of bait on theMoon.     The aliens were incredibly more advanced than ourselves. I couldn'thelp thinking,      And to a rabbit in a snare, mankind must seemimpossibly clever     .     I decided to ask the machine about its makers in the morning.  <doc-sep>   The Snare     By RICHARD R. SMITH     Illustrated by WEISS     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy January 1956.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright     on this publication was renewed.]        It's easy to find a solution when there is one—the trick is to do itif there is none!        I glanced at the path we had made across the      Mare Serenitatis     . TheLatin translated as the Sea of Serenity. It was well named because,as far as the eye could see in every direction, there was a smoothlayer of pumice that resembled the surface of a calm sea. Scatteredacross the quiet sea of virgin Moon dust were occasional islandsof rock that jutted abruptly toward the infinity of stars above.Considering everything, our surroundings conveyed a sense of serenitylike none I had ever felt.     Our bounding path across the level expanse was clearly marked. Becauseof the light gravity, we had leaped high into the air with each stepand every time we struck the ground, the impact had raised a cloud ofdustlike pumice. Now the clouds of dust were slowly settling in thelight gravity.     Above us, the stars were cold, motionless and crystal-clear.Indifferently, they sprayed a faint light on our surroundings ... adim glow that was hardly sufficient for normal vision and was too weakto be reflected toward Earth.     We turned our head-lamps on the strange object before us. Five beamsof light illuminated the smooth shape that protruded from the Moon'ssurface.     The incongruity was so awesome that for several minutes, we remainedmotionless and quiet. Miller broke the silence with his quaveringvoice, Strange someone didn't notice it before.  <doc-sep>Kane stalked into the room at that moment, his face red with anger.      Do you know where we are?      he demanded. When those damned aliensgot me in that room, they explained what this is all about. We'reguinea pigs!     Did they use telepathy to explain? Verana asked. I suddenlyremembered that she was a member of a club that investigatedextra-sensory perception with the hope of learning how it operated. Shewas probably sorry she hadn't been contacted telepathically.     Yeah, Kane replied. I saw all sorts of mental pictures and theyexplained what they did to us. Those damned aliens want us for theirzoo!     Start at the beginning, I suggested.     He flashed an angry glance at me, but seemed to calm somewhat. Thisship was made by a race from another galaxy. Thousands of years ago,they came to Earth in their spaceships when men were primitives livingin caves. They wanted to know what our civilization would be likewhen we developed space flight. So they put this ship on the Moon as asort of booby-trap. They put it there with the idea that when we madespaceships and went to the Moon, sooner or later, we'd find the shipand enter it—      like rabbits in a snare!          And now the booby-trap is on its way home, I guessed.     Yeah, this ship is taking us to their planet and they're going to keepus there while they study us.     How long will the trip take? I asked.     Six months. We'll be bottled up in this crate for six whole damnedmonths! And when we get there, we'll be prisoners!     Marie's hypnotic spell was fading and once more her face showed theterror inside her.     Don't feel so bad, I told Kane. It could be worse. It should beinteresting to see an alien race. We'll have our wives with us—     Maybe they'll dissect us! Marie gasped.     Verana scoffed. A race intelligent enough to build a ship like this? Arace that was traveling between the stars when we were living in caves?Dissection is primitive. They won't      have to     dissect us in order tostudy us. They'll have more advanced methods.     Maybe we can reach the ship's controls somehow, Kane said excitedly.We've got to try to change the ship's course and get back to theMoon!     It's impossible. Don't waste your time. The voice had no visiblesource and seemed to fill the room.  <doc-sep>Kapper tried to straighten up. He hadn't shaved. The lean hard linesof his face had gone slack and his eyes were bloodshot. He was coveredwith mud, and his mouth twitched like a sick old man's.     He said thickly, I found it. I said I'd do it, and I did. I found itand brought it out.     The cigarette stub fell out of his mouth. He didn't notice it. Helpme, he said simply. I'm scared. His mouth drooled.     I got it hidden. They want to find out, but I won't tell 'em. It'sgot to go back. Back where I found it. I tried to take it, but theywouldn't let me, and I was afraid they'd find it....     He reached suddenly and grabbed the edge of the table. I don't knowhow they found out about it, but they did. I've got to get it back.I've got to....     Bucky looked at me. Kapper was blue around the mouth. I was scared,suddenly. I said, Get what back where?     Bucky got up. I'll get a doctor, he said. Stick with him. Kappergrabbed his wrist. Kapper's nails were blue and the cords in his handsstood out like guy wires.     Don't leave me. Got to tell you—where it is. Got to take it back.Promise you'll take it back. He gasped and struggled over hisbreathing.     Sure, said Bucky. Sure, well take it back. What is it?     Kapper's face was horrible. I felt sick, listening to him fight forair. I wanted to go for a doctor anyway, but somehow I knew it was nouse. Kapper whispered,           Cansin     . Male. Only one. You don't know...! Take him back.     Where is it, Sam?     I reached across Bucky suddenly and jerked the curtain back. Beamishwas standing there. Beamish, bent over, with his ear cocked. Kappermade a harsh strangling noise and fell across the table.     Beamish never changed expression. He didn't move while Bucky feltKapper's pulse. Bucky didn't need to say anything. We knew.     Heart? said Beamish finally.     Yeah, said Bucky. He looked as bad as I felt. Poor Sam.     I looked at the cigarette stub smoldering on the table. I looked atBeamish with his round dead baby face. I climbed over Shannon andpushed Beamish suddenly down into his lap.     Keep this guy here till I get back, I said.     Shannon stared at me. Beamish started to get indignant. Shut up, Itold him. We got a contract. I yanked the curtains shut and walkedover to the bar.     I began to notice something, then. There were quite a lot of men in theplace. At first glance they looked okay—a hard-faced, muscular bunchof miners in dirty shirts and high boots.     Then I looked at their hands. They were dirty enough. But they neverdid any work in a mine, on Venus or anywhere else.     The place was awfully quiet, for that kind of a place. The bartenderwas a big pot-bellied swamp-edger with pale eyes and thick white haircoiled up on top of his bullet head. He was not happy.     I leaned on the bar.       Lhak     , I said. He poured it, sullenly, out of agreen bottle. I reached for it, casually.     That guy we brought in, I said. He sure has a skinful. Passed outcold. What's he been spiking his drinks with?           Selak     , said a voice in my ear. As if you didn't know.     I turned. The man who had given Kapper the cigarette was standingbehind me. And I remembered him, then.  <doc-sep>A slight sound behind me made me spin around in my chair. Framed in thedoorway was the heavy figure of my Third Officer, Spinelli. His blackeyes were fastened hungrily on the lump of yellow metal on the table.He needed no explanation to tell him what it was, and it seemed to methat his very soul reached out for the stuff, so sharp and clear wasthe meaning of the expression on his heavy face.     Mister Spinelli! I snapped, In the future knock before entering myquarters!     Reluctantly his eyes left the lump of gold and met mine. From thederelict, Captain? There was an imperceptible pause between the lasttwo words.     I ignored his question and made a mental note to keep a close hand onthe rein with him. Spinelli was big and dangerous.     Speak your piece, Mister, I ordered sharply.     Mister Cohn reports the derelict ready to take aboard the prizecrew ... sir, he said slowly. I'd like to volunteer for that detail.     I might have let him go under ordinary circumstances, for he was afirst class spaceman and the handling of a jury-rigged hulk wouldneed good men. But the gold-hunger I had seen in his eyes warned meto beware. I shook my head. You will stay on board the Maid with me,Spinelli. Cohn and Zaleski will handle the starship.     Stark suspicion leaped into his eyes. I could see the wheels turningslowly in his mind. Somehow, he was thinking, I was planning to cheathim of his rightful share of the derelict treasure ship.     We will say nothing to the rest of the crew about the gold, MisterSpinelli, I said deliberately, Or you'll go to Callisto in irons. Isthat clear?     Aye, sir, murmured Spinelli. The black expression had left his faceand there was a faintly scornful smile playing about his mouth as heturned away. I began wondering then what he had in mind. It wasn't likehim to let it go at that.     Suddenly I became conscious of being very tired. My mind wasn'tfunctioning quite clearly. And my arm and hand ached painfully. Irubbed the fingers to get some life back into them, still wonderingabout Spinelli.     Spinelli talked. I saw him murmuring something to big Zaleski, andafter that there was tension in the air. Distrust.     For a few moments I pondered the advisability of making good my threatto clap Spinelli into irons, but I decided against it. In the firstplace I couldn't prove he had told Zaleski about the gold and in thesecond place I needed Spinelli to help run the Maid.     I felt that the Third Officer and Zaleski were planning something, andI was just as sure that Spinelli was watching Zaleski to see to it thatthere was no double-cross.     I figured that I could handle the Third Officer alone so I assigned therest, Marvin and Chelly, to accompany Cohn and Zaleski onto the hulk.That way Zaleski would be outnumbered if he tried to skip with thetreasure ship. But, of course, I couldn't risk telling them that theywere to be handling a vessel practically made of gold.     I was in agony. I didn't want to let anyone get out of my sight withthat starship, and at the same time I couldn't leave the Maid. FinallyI had to let Cohn take command of the prize crew, but not before I hadset the radar finder on the Maid's prow squarely on the derelict.  <doc-sep>Tremaine left the hotel, walked two blocks west along Commerce Streetand turned in at a yellow brick building with the words ELSBYMUNICIPAL POLICE cut in the stone lintel above the door. Inside, aheavy man with a creased face and thick gray hair looked up from behindan ancient Underwood. He studied Tremaine, shifted a toothpick to theopposite corner of his mouth.     Don't I know you, mister? he said. His soft voice carried a note ofauthority.     Tremaine took off his hat. Sure you do, Jess. It's been a while,though.     The policeman got to his feet. Jimmy, he said, Jimmy Tremaine. Hecame to the counter and put out his hand. How are you, Jimmy? Whatbrings you back to the boondocks?     Let's go somewhere and sit down, Jess.     In a back room Tremaine said, To everybody but you this is just avisit to the old home town. Between us, there's more.     Jess nodded. I heard you were with the guv'ment.     It won't take long to tell; we don't know much yet. Tremaine coveredthe discovery of the powerful unidentified interference on thehigh-security hyperwave band, the discovery that each transmissionproduced not one but a pattern of fixes on the point of origin. Hepassed a sheet of paper across the table. It showed a set of concentriccircles, overlapped by a similar group of rings.     I think what we're getting is an echo effect from each of thesepoints of intersection. The rings themselves represent the diffractionpattern—     Hold it, Jimmy. To me it just looks like a beer ad. I'll take yourword for it.     The point is this, Jess: we think we've got it narrowed down to thissection. I'm not sure of a damn thing, but I think that transmitter'snear here. Now, have you got any ideas?     That's a tough one, Jimmy. This is where I should come up with thenews that Old Man Whatchamacallit's got an attic full of gear he saysis a time machine. Trouble is, folks around here haven't even takento TV. They figure we should be content with radio, like the Lordintended.     I didn't expect any easy answers, Jess. But I was hoping maybe you hadsomething ...     Course, said Jess, there's always Mr. Bram ...     Mr. Bram, repeated Tremaine. Is he still around? I remember him as ahundred years old when I was kid.     Still just the same, Jimmy. Comes in town maybe once a week, buys hisgroceries and hikes back out to his place by the river.     Well, what about him?     Nothing. But he's the town's mystery man. You know that. A littletouched in the head.     There were a lot of funny stories about him, I remember, Tremainesaid. I always liked him. One time he tried to teach me somethingI've forgotten. Wanted me to come out to his place and he'd teach me.I never did go. We kids used to play in the caves near his place, andsometimes he gave us apples.  <doc-sep>     Going straight meant crooked planning. He'd       never make it unless he somehow managed to       PICK A CRIME     By RICHARD R. SMITH     Illustrated by DICK FRANCIS     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction May 1958.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The girl was tall, wide-eyed and brunette. She had the right curves inthe right places and would have been beautiful if her nose had beensmaller, if her mouth had been larger and if her hair had been wavyinstead of straight.     Hank said you wanted to see me, she said when she stopped besideJoe's table.     Yeah. Joe nodded at the other chair. Have a seat. He reached into apocket, withdrew five ten-dollar bills and handed them to her. I wantyou to do a job for me. It'll only take a few minutes.     The girl counted the money, then placed it in her purse. Joe noticeda small counterfeit-detector inside the purse before she closed it.What's the job?     Tell you later. He gulped the remainder of his drink, almost pouringit down his throat.     Hey. You trying to make yourself sick?     Not sick. Drunk. Been trying to get drunk all afternoon. As theliquor settled in his stomach, he waited for the warm glow. But theglow didn't come ... the bartender had watered his drink again.     Trying to get drunk? the girl inquired. Are you crazy?     No. It's simple. If I get drunk, I can join the AAA and get free roomand board for a month while they give me a treatment.     It was easy enough to understand, he reflected, but a lot harder to do.The CPA robot bartenders saw to it that anyone got high if they wanted,but comparatively few got drunk. Each bartender could not only mixdrinks but could also judge by a man's actions and speech when he wason the verge of drunkenness. At the proper time—since drunkenness wasillegal—a bartender always watered the drinks.     Joe had tried dozens of times in dozens of bars to outsmart them, buthad always failed. And in all of New York's millions, there had beenonly a hundred cases of intoxication during the previous year.     The girl laughed. If you're that hard up, I don't know if I shouldtake this fifty or not. Why don't you go out and get a job likeeveryone else?     As an answer, Joe handed her his CPA ID card. She grunted when shesaw the large letters that indicated the owner had Dangerous CriminalTendencies.  <doc-sep>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you tell me where The Snare takes place?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How does Kane's outburst of violent drinking impact the plot in The Snare? [SEP] <s>For several minutes, we sampled the different foods. Every one had adistinctive flavor, comparable to that of a fruit or vegetable on Earth.     Kane lifted a brown bottle to his lips, took a huge gulp and almostchoked.     Whiskey!     My masters realized your race would develop intoxicants and tried tocreate a comparable one, the machine explained.     I selected a brown bottle and sampled the liquid. A little strongerthan our own, I informed the machine.     We drank until Kane was staggering about the room, shouting insults atthe alien race and the mechanical voice that seemed to be everywhere.He beat his fist against a wall until blood trickled from bruisedknuckles.     Please don't hurt yourself, the machine pleaded.           Why?      Kane screamed at the ceiling. Why should you care?     My masters will be displeased with me if you arrive in a damagedcondition.     Kane banged his head against a bulkhead; an ugly bruise formed rapidly.Shtop me, then!     I can't. My masters created no way for me to restrain or contact youother than use of your language.     It took fully fifteen minutes to drag Kane to his sleeping compartment.     After I left Kane in his wife's care, I went to the adjoining room andstretched out on the soft floor beside Verana.     I tried to think of some solution. We were locked in an alien ship atthe start of a six months' journey to a strange planet. We had no toolsor weapons.     Solution? I doubted if two dozen geniuses working steadily for yearscould think of one!     I wondered what the alien race was like. Intelligent, surely: They hadforeseen our conquest of space flight when we hadn't even inventedthe wheel. That thought awed me—somehow they had analyzed our brainsthousands of years ago and calculated what our future accomplishmentswould be.     They had been able to predict our scientific development, but theyhadn't been able to tell how our civilization would develop. They werecurious, so they had left an enormously elaborate piece of bait on theMoon.     The aliens were incredibly more advanced than ourselves. I couldn'thelp thinking,      And to a rabbit in a snare, mankind must seemimpossibly clever     .     I decided to ask the machine about its makers in the morning.  <doc-sep>Kane stalked into the room at that moment, his face red with anger.      Do you know where we are?      he demanded. When those damned aliensgot me in that room, they explained what this is all about. We'reguinea pigs!     Did they use telepathy to explain? Verana asked. I suddenlyremembered that she was a member of a club that investigatedextra-sensory perception with the hope of learning how it operated. Shewas probably sorry she hadn't been contacted telepathically.     Yeah, Kane replied. I saw all sorts of mental pictures and theyexplained what they did to us. Those damned aliens want us for theirzoo!     Start at the beginning, I suggested.     He flashed an angry glance at me, but seemed to calm somewhat. Thisship was made by a race from another galaxy. Thousands of years ago,they came to Earth in their spaceships when men were primitives livingin caves. They wanted to know what our civilization would be likewhen we developed space flight. So they put this ship on the Moon as asort of booby-trap. They put it there with the idea that when we madespaceships and went to the Moon, sooner or later, we'd find the shipand enter it—      like rabbits in a snare!          And now the booby-trap is on its way home, I guessed.     Yeah, this ship is taking us to their planet and they're going to keepus there while they study us.     How long will the trip take? I asked.     Six months. We'll be bottled up in this crate for six whole damnedmonths! And when we get there, we'll be prisoners!     Marie's hypnotic spell was fading and once more her face showed theterror inside her.     Don't feel so bad, I told Kane. It could be worse. It should beinteresting to see an alien race. We'll have our wives with us—     Maybe they'll dissect us! Marie gasped.     Verana scoffed. A race intelligent enough to build a ship like this? Arace that was traveling between the stars when we were living in caves?Dissection is primitive. They won't      have to     dissect us in order tostudy us. They'll have more advanced methods.     Maybe we can reach the ship's controls somehow, Kane said excitedly.We've got to try to change the ship's course and get back to theMoon!     It's impossible. Don't waste your time. The voice had no visiblesource and seemed to fill the room.  <doc-sep>   The Snare     By RICHARD R. SMITH     Illustrated by WEISS     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy January 1956.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright     on this publication was renewed.]        It's easy to find a solution when there is one—the trick is to do itif there is none!        I glanced at the path we had made across the      Mare Serenitatis     . TheLatin translated as the Sea of Serenity. It was well named because,as far as the eye could see in every direction, there was a smoothlayer of pumice that resembled the surface of a calm sea. Scatteredacross the quiet sea of virgin Moon dust were occasional islandsof rock that jutted abruptly toward the infinity of stars above.Considering everything, our surroundings conveyed a sense of serenitylike none I had ever felt.     Our bounding path across the level expanse was clearly marked. Becauseof the light gravity, we had leaped high into the air with each stepand every time we struck the ground, the impact had raised a cloud ofdustlike pumice. Now the clouds of dust were slowly settling in thelight gravity.     Above us, the stars were cold, motionless and crystal-clear.Indifferently, they sprayed a faint light on our surroundings ... adim glow that was hardly sufficient for normal vision and was too weakto be reflected toward Earth.     We turned our head-lamps on the strange object before us. Five beamsof light illuminated the smooth shape that protruded from the Moon'ssurface.     The incongruity was so awesome that for several minutes, we remainedmotionless and quiet. Miller broke the silence with his quaveringvoice, Strange someone didn't notice it before.  <doc-sep>At the end of the corridor, Kane stopped before a blank wall. The sweaton his face glistened dully; his chest rose and fell rapidly. Kane wasa pilot and one of the prerequisites for the job of guiding tons ofmetal between Earth and the Moon was a good set of nerves. Kane excitedeasily, his temper was fiery, but his nerves were like steel.     The end of the line, he grunted.     As though to disprove the statement, a door on his right side openedsoundlessly.     He went through the doorway as if shoved violently by an invisible hand.     The door closed behind him.     Marie threw herself at the door and beat at the metal. Harry!     Verana rushed to her side. Another door on the opposite side of thecorridor opened silently. The door was behind them; they didn't notice.     Before I could warn them, Marie floated across the corridor, throughthe doorway.     Verana and I stared at the darkness beyond the opening, our musclesfrozen by shock.     The door closed behind Marie's screaming, struggling form.     Verana's face was white with fear. Apprehensively, she glanced at theother doors that lined the hall.     I put my arms around her, held her close.     Antigravity machines, force rays, I suggested worriedly.     For several minutes, we remained motionless and silent. I recalled thepreceding events of the day, searched for a sense of normality in them.The Kanes, Miller, Verana and I lived in Lunar City with hundreds ofother people. Mankind had inhabited the Moon for over a year. Meansof recreation were scarce. Many people explored the place to amusethemselves. After supper, we had decided to take a walk. As simple asthat: a walk on the Moon.     We had expected only the familiar craters, chasms and weird rockformations. A twist of fate and here we were: imprisoned in an alienship.     My legs quivered with fatigue, my heart throbbed heavily, Verana'sperfume dizzied me. No, it wasn't a dream. Despite our incrediblesituation, there was no sensation of unreality.  <doc-sep>Strange? The object rose a quarter of a mile above us, a huge, curvinghulk of smooth metal. It was featureless and yet conveyed a senseof      alienness     . It was alien and yet it wasn't a natural formation.Something had made the thing, whatever it was. But was it strange thatit hadn't been noticed before? Men had lived on the Moon for over ayear, but the Moon was vast and the      Mare Serenitatis     covered threehundred and forty thousand square miles.     What is it? Marie asked breathlessly.     Her husband grunted his bafflement. Who knows? But see how it curves?If it's a perfect sphere, it must be at least two miles in diameter!     If it's a perfect sphere, Miller suggested, most of it must bebeneath the Moon's surface.     Maybe it isn't a sphere, my wife said. Maybe this is all of it.     Let's call Lunar City and tell the authorities about it. I reachedfor the radio controls on my suit.     Kane grabbed my arm. No. Let's find out whatever we can by ourselves.If we tell the authorities, they'll order us to leave it alone. If wediscover something really important, we'll be famous!     I lowered my arm. His outburst seemed faintly childish to me. And yetit carried a good measure of common sense. If we discovered proof ofan alien race, we would indeed be famous. The more we discovered forourselves, the more famous we'd be. Fame was practically a synonym forprestige and wealth.     All right, I conceded.     Miller stepped forward, moving slowly in the bulk of his spacesuit.Deliberately, he removed a small torch from his side and pressed thebrilliant flame against the metal.     A few minutes later, the elderly mineralogist gave his opinion: It'ssteel ... made thousands of years ago.     Someone gasped over the intercom, Thousands of years! But wouldn't itbe in worse shape than this if it was that old?     Miller pointed at the small cut his torch had made in the metal. Thenotch was only a quarter of an inch deep. I say      steel     because it's      similar     to steel. Actually, it's a much stronger alloy. Besides that,on the Moon, there's been no water or atmosphere to rust it. Not evena wind to disturb its surface. It's      at least     several thousand yearsold.  <doc-sep>The machine didn't answer. I waited for the electronic brain tointerfere and, with a cold knot in my stomach, realized the machine hadsaid it had no way to control our actions!     Your purpose won't be fulfilled, will it? Kane demanded. Not if youreturn with dead specimens!     No, the machine admitted.     If you don't take us back to the Moon, Kane threatened, I'll kill      all of us     !     The alien electronic brain was silent.     By this time, I couldn't see and Kane's voice was a hollow, farawaything that rang in my ears. I tugged at my bindings, but they onlytightened as I struggled.     If you take us back to the Moon, your masters will never know youfailed in your mission. They won't know you failed because you won'tbring them proof of your failure.     My fading consciousness tried to envision the alien mechanical brain asit struggled with the problem.     Look at it this way, Kane persisted. If you carry our corpses toyour masters, all your efforts will have been useless. If you return usto the Moon alive, you'll still have a chance to carry out your missionlater.     A long silence followed. Verana and Marie screamed at Kane to let go.A soft darkness seemed to fill the room, blurring everything, drowningeven their shrieks in strangling blackness.     You win, the machine conceded. I'll return the ship to the Moon.     Kane released his grip on my throat.     See? he asked. Didn't I tell you every problem has a solution?     I didn't answer. I was too busy enjoying breathing again.  <doc-sep>Six rooms were open to our use. The two rooms in which the Kanes hadbeen imprisoned were locked and there were no controls or locks to workon.     The rooms that we could enter were without doors, except the ones thatopened into the corridor.     After intensive searching, we realized there was      no way     to damage theship or reach any section other than our allotted space.     We gave up.     The women went to the sleeping compartments to rest and Kane I went tothe kitchen.     At random, we sampled the variously colored boxes and bottles anddiscussed our predicament.     Trapped, Kane said angrily. Trapped in a steel prison. He slammedhis fist against the table top. But there must be a way to get out!Every problem has a solution!     You sure? I asked.     What?           Does     every problem have a solution? I don't believe it. Someproblems are too great. Take the problem of a murderer in ourcivilization: John Doe has killed someone and his problem is to escape.Primarily, a murderer's problem is the same principle as ours. Amurderer has to outwit an entire civilization. We have to outwit anentire civilization that was hundreds of times more advanced than oursis now when we were clubbing animals and eating the meat raw. Damnedfew criminals get away these days, even though they've got such crowdsto lose themselves in. All we have is a ship that we can't control. Idon't think we have a chance.     My resignation annoyed him. Each of us had reacted differently: Kane'swife was frightened, Verana was calm because of an inner serenity thatfew people have, I was resigned and Kane was angry.  <doc-sep>I took Verana's hand and led her down the long corridor, retracing oursteps.     We had walked not more than two yards when the rest of the doorsopened soundlessly.     Verana's hand flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp.     Six doors were now open. The only two that remained closed were theones that the Kanes had unwillingly entered.     This time, no invisible hand thrust us into any of the rooms.     I entered the nearest one. Verana followed hesitantly.     The walls of the large room were lined with shelves containingthousands of variously colored boxes and bottles. A table and fourchairs were located in the center of the green, plasticlike floor. Eachchair had no back, only a curving platform with a single supportingcolumn.     Ed! I joined Verana on the other side of the room. She pointed atrembling finger at some crude drawings. The things in this room arefood!     The drawings were so simple that anyone could have understood them.The first drawing portrayed a naked man and woman removing boxes andbottles from the shelves. The second picture showed the couple openingthe containers. The third showed the man eating from one of the boxesand the woman drinking from a bottle.       Let's see how it tastes, I said.     I selected an orange-colored box. The lid dissolved at the touch of myfingers.     The only contents were small cubes of a soft orange substance.     I tasted a small piece.     Chocolate! Just like chocolate!     Verana chose a nearby bottle and drank some of the bluish liquid.     Milk! she exclaimed.     Perhaps we'd better look at the other rooms, I told her.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How does Kane's outburst of violent drinking impact the plot in The Snare?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How does Marie's situation evolve throughout The Snare? [SEP] <s>Kane stalked into the room at that moment, his face red with anger.      Do you know where we are?      he demanded. When those damned aliensgot me in that room, they explained what this is all about. We'reguinea pigs!     Did they use telepathy to explain? Verana asked. I suddenlyremembered that she was a member of a club that investigatedextra-sensory perception with the hope of learning how it operated. Shewas probably sorry she hadn't been contacted telepathically.     Yeah, Kane replied. I saw all sorts of mental pictures and theyexplained what they did to us. Those damned aliens want us for theirzoo!     Start at the beginning, I suggested.     He flashed an angry glance at me, but seemed to calm somewhat. Thisship was made by a race from another galaxy. Thousands of years ago,they came to Earth in their spaceships when men were primitives livingin caves. They wanted to know what our civilization would be likewhen we developed space flight. So they put this ship on the Moon as asort of booby-trap. They put it there with the idea that when we madespaceships and went to the Moon, sooner or later, we'd find the shipand enter it—      like rabbits in a snare!          And now the booby-trap is on its way home, I guessed.     Yeah, this ship is taking us to their planet and they're going to keepus there while they study us.     How long will the trip take? I asked.     Six months. We'll be bottled up in this crate for six whole damnedmonths! And when we get there, we'll be prisoners!     Marie's hypnotic spell was fading and once more her face showed theterror inside her.     Don't feel so bad, I told Kane. It could be worse. It should beinteresting to see an alien race. We'll have our wives with us—     Maybe they'll dissect us! Marie gasped.     Verana scoffed. A race intelligent enough to build a ship like this? Arace that was traveling between the stars when we were living in caves?Dissection is primitive. They won't      have to     dissect us in order tostudy us. They'll have more advanced methods.     Maybe we can reach the ship's controls somehow, Kane said excitedly.We've got to try to change the ship's course and get back to theMoon!     It's impossible. Don't waste your time. The voice had no visiblesource and seemed to fill the room.  <doc-sep>At the end of the corridor, Kane stopped before a blank wall. The sweaton his face glistened dully; his chest rose and fell rapidly. Kane wasa pilot and one of the prerequisites for the job of guiding tons ofmetal between Earth and the Moon was a good set of nerves. Kane excitedeasily, his temper was fiery, but his nerves were like steel.     The end of the line, he grunted.     As though to disprove the statement, a door on his right side openedsoundlessly.     He went through the doorway as if shoved violently by an invisible hand.     The door closed behind him.     Marie threw herself at the door and beat at the metal. Harry!     Verana rushed to her side. Another door on the opposite side of thecorridor opened silently. The door was behind them; they didn't notice.     Before I could warn them, Marie floated across the corridor, throughthe doorway.     Verana and I stared at the darkness beyond the opening, our musclesfrozen by shock.     The door closed behind Marie's screaming, struggling form.     Verana's face was white with fear. Apprehensively, she glanced at theother doors that lined the hall.     I put my arms around her, held her close.     Antigravity machines, force rays, I suggested worriedly.     For several minutes, we remained motionless and silent. I recalled thepreceding events of the day, searched for a sense of normality in them.The Kanes, Miller, Verana and I lived in Lunar City with hundreds ofother people. Mankind had inhabited the Moon for over a year. Meansof recreation were scarce. Many people explored the place to amusethemselves. After supper, we had decided to take a walk. As simple asthat: a walk on the Moon.     We had expected only the familiar craters, chasms and weird rockformations. A twist of fate and here we were: imprisoned in an alienship.     My legs quivered with fatigue, my heart throbbed heavily, Verana'sperfume dizzied me. No, it wasn't a dream. Despite our incrediblesituation, there was no sensation of unreality.  <doc-sep>Taphetta rustled his speech ribbons quizzically. But I thought it wasproved that some humans did originate on one planet, that there was anunbroken line of evolution that could be traced back a billion years.     You're thinking of Earth, said Halden. Humans require a certain kindof planet. It's reasonable to assume that, if men were set down on ahundred such worlds, they'd seem to fit in with native life-forms on afew of them. That's what happened on Earth; when Man arrived, there wasactually a manlike creature there. Naturally our early evolutionistsstretched their theories to cover the facts they had.     But there are other worlds in which humans who were there before theStone Age aren't related to anything else there. We have to concludethat Man didn't originate on any of the planets on which he is nowfound. Instead, he evolved elsewhere and later was scattered throughoutthis section of the Milky Way.     And so, to account for the unique race that can interbreed acrossthousands of light-years, you've brought in the big ancestor,commented Taphetta dryly. It seems an unnecessary simplification.     Can you think of a better explanation? asked Kelburn.     Something had to distribute one species so widely and it's not theresult of parallel evolution—not when a hundred human races areinvolved, and      only     the human race.     I can't think of a better explanation. Taphetta rearranged hisribbons. Frankly, no one else is much interested in Man's theoriesabout himself.     It was easy to understand the attitude. Man was the most numerousthough not always the most advanced—Ribboneers had a civilization ashigh as anything in the known section of the Milky Way, and there wereothers—and humans were more than a little feared. If they ever gottogether—but they hadn't except in agreement as to their common origin.     Still, Taphetta the Ribboneer was an experienced pilot and could bevery useful. A clear statement of their position was essential inhelping him make up his mind. You've heard of the adjacency matingprinciple? asked Sam Halden.     Vaguely. Most people have if they've been around men.     We've got new data and are able to interpret it better. The theory isthat humans who can mate with each other were once physically close.We've got a list of all our races arranged in sequence. If planetaryrace F can mate with race E back to A and forward to M, and race G isfertile only back to B, but forward to O, then we assume that whatevertheir positions are now, at once time G was actually adjacent to F, butwas a little further along. When we project back into time those starsystems on which humans existed prior to space travel, we get a certainpattern. Kelburn can explain it to you.     The normally pink body of the Ribboneer flushed slightly. The colorchange was almost imperceptible, but it was enough to indicate that hewas interested.  <doc-sep>Seven years passed and back on Earth in a small newspaper that Willardwould never see there was published a small item:           Arden, Rocketport     —Thirteen years ago the Space Ship      Mary Lou     under John Willard and Larry Dobbin left the Rocket Port for theexploration of an alleged planetoid beyond Pluto. The ship has not beenseen or heard from since. J. Willard, II, son of the lost explorer, isplanning the manufacture of a super-size exploration ship to be called      Mary Lou II     , in memory of his father.     Memories die hard. A man who is alone in space with nothing but thecold friendship of star-light looks back upon memories as the onlythings both dear and precious to him.     Willard, master and lone survivor of the      Mary Lou     , knew this well forhe had tried to rip the memories of Earth out of his heart to ease theanguish of solitude within him. But it was a thing that could not bedone.     And so it was that each night—for Willard did not give up theEarth-habit of keeping time—Willard dreamed of the days he had knownon Earth.     In his mind's eye, he saw himself walking the streets of Arden andfeeling the crunch of snow or the soft slap of rainwater under hisfeet. He heard again, in his mind, the voices of friends he knew.How beautiful and perfect was each voice! How filled with warmth andfriendship! There was the voice of his beautiful wife whom he wouldnever see again. There were the gruff and deep voices of his co-workersand scientists.     Above all there were the voices of the cities, and the fields and theshops where he had worked. All these had their individual voices. Oddthat he had never realized it before, but things become clearer to aman who is alone.     Clearer? Perhaps not. Perhaps they become more clouded. How could he,for example, explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it reallyonly a product of his imagination? What of all the others who hadseen it? Was it possible for many different men under many differentsituations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. Butperhaps space itself denies reason.     Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase hereand a story there put together all that he knew:     Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the GhostShip haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is itstragedy, for it is the home of spacemen who can never go home again.When your last measure of fuel is burnt and your ship becomes alifeless hulk—the Ghost will come—for you!     And this is all there was to the legend. Merely a tale of some fairyship told to amuse and to while away the days of a star-voyage.Bitterly, Willard dismissed it from his mind.     Another year of loneliness passed. And still another. Willard losttrack of the days. It was difficult to keep time for to what purposecould time be kept. Here in space there was no time, nor was therereason for clocks and records. Days and months and years becamemeaningless words for things that once may have had meaning. Aboutthree years must have passed since his last record in the log bookof the      Mary Lou     . At that time, he remembered, he suffered anothergreat disappointment. On the port side there suddenly appeared afull-sized rocket ship. For many minutes Willard was half-mad withjoy thinking that a passing ship was ready to rescue him. But the joywas short-lived, for the rocket ship abruptly turned away and slowlydisappeared. As Willard watched it go away he saw the light of adistant star      through     the space ship. A heart-breaking agony fell uponhim. It was not a ship from Earth. It was the Ghost Ship, mocking him.     Since then Willard did not look out the window of his craft. A vaguefear troubled him that perhaps the Ghost Ship might be here, waitingand watching, and that he would go mad if he saw it.     How many years passed he could not tell. But this he knew. He was nolonger a young man. Perhaps fifteen years has disappeared into nothing.Perhaps twenty. He did not know and he did not care.  <doc-sep>When I awoke, my head was throbbing painfully.     I opened my eyes and blinked several times to make sure they werefunctioning properly. I wasn't in the compartment where I had fallenasleep a few hours before.     I was tied to one of the chairs in the kitchen. Beside me, Verana wasbound to a chair by strips of cloth from her skirt, and across from us,Marie was secured to another chair.     Kane staggered into the room. Although he was visibly drunk, heappeared more sober than the night before. His dark hair was rumpledand his face was flushed, but his eyes gleamed with a growing alertness.     Awake, huh?     What have you done, Harry? his wife screamed at him. Her eyes werered with tears and her lips twisted in an expression of shame when shelooked at him.     Obvious, isn't it? While all of you were asleep, I conked each of youon the head, dragged you in here and tied you up. He smiled crookedly.It's amazing the things a person can do when he's pickled. I'm sorry Ihad to be so rough, but I have a plan and I knew you wouldn't agree orcooperate with me.     What's your plan? I asked.     He grinned wryly and crinkled bloodshot eyes. I don't want to live ina zoo on an alien planet. I want to go home and prove my theory thatthis problem has a solution.     I grunted my disgust.     The solution is simple, he said. We're in a trap so strong that thealiens didn't establish any means to control our actions. When men puta lion in a strong cage, they don't worry about controlling the lionbecause the lion can't get out. We're in the same basic situation.     So what? Verana queried in a sarcastic tone.     The aliens want us transported to their planet so they can examine andquestion us. Right?     Right.     Ed, remember that remark the machine made last night?     What remark?     It said, '      My     masters will be displeased with      me     if you arrive in adamaged condition.' What does that indicate to you?  <doc-sep>Mary! he cried. My God! Mary....     We came for you, Dad, she said coldly. To stop you. To ... to killyou if necessary.     Mary....     Oh, Dad, why did you do it? Why?     We couldn't start all over again, could we? You have a right to livethe sort of life I planned for you. You....     Whiting, Steve said, did you tell them yet?     No. No, I haven't. I have information to trade, sure. But I want tomake sure it's going to the right people. I want to get our....     Dad! Our money, and all those deaths?     It doesn't matter now. I—I had changed my mind, Mary. Truly. But now,now that you're a prisoner, what if I don't talk? Don't you see, they'lltorture you. They'll make you talk. And that way—we get nothing. Icouldn't stand to see them hurt you.     They can do—what they think they have to do. I'll tell them nothing.     You won't have to, Whiting said. I'll tell them when we reach thelarger settlement. They're taking us there tomorrow, they told me.     Then we've got to get out of here tonight, Steve said.     The low sun cast the shadow of their guard against the      thlot     skin wallof their tent. He was a single man, armed with a long, pike-like weapon.When darkness came, if the guard were not increased....     They were brought a pasty gruel for their supper, and ate in silence anddistaste, ate because they needed the strength. Mary said, Dad, I don'twant you to tell them anything. Dad, please. If you thought you weredoing it for me....     I've made up my mind, Tobias Whiting said.     Mary turned to Steve, in despair. Steve, she said. Steve.Do—whatever you have to do. I—I'll understand.     Steve didn't answer her. Wasn't Whiting right now? he thought. If Stevesilenced him, wouldn't the Kumaji torture them for the information?Steve could stand up to it perhaps—but he couldn't stand to see themhurt Mary. He'd talk if they did that....     Then silencing Whiting wasn't the answer. But the Kumajis had onewilling prisoner and two unwilling ones. They knew that. If the willingone yelled for help but the yelling was kept to a minimum so only oneguard, the man outside, came....  <doc-sep>They fell together on the sand, the guard still struggling. Stevecouldn't release his throat to grab the pike. The guard stabbed outawkwardly, blindly with it, kicking up sand. Then Tobias Whiting moaned,but Steve hardly heard him.     When the guard's legs stopped drumming, Steve released him. The man waseither dead or so close to death that he would be out for hours. Stevehad never killed a man before, had never in violence and with intent tokill attacked a man....     Steve!     It was Mary, calling his name and crying.     It's Dad. Dad was—hit. The pike, a wild stab. He's hit bad—     Steve crawled over to them. It was very dark. He could barely make outTobias Whiting's pain-contorted face.     My stomach, Whiting said, gasping for breath. The pain....     Steve probed with his hands, found the wound. Blood was rushing out. Hecouldn't stop it and he knew it and he thought Whiting knew it too. Hetouched Mary's hand, and held it. Mary sobbed against him, cryingsoftly.     You two ... Whiting gasped. You two ... Mary, Mary girl. Is—he—whatyou want?     Yes, Dad. Oh, yes!     You can get her out of here, Cantwell?     I think so, Steve said.     Then go. Go while you can. I'll tell them—due south. The Earthmen areheading due south. They'll go—south. They won't find the caravan.You'll—all—get away. If it's—what you want, Mary.     She leaned away from Steve, kissing her father. She asked Steve: Isn'tthere anything we can do for him?     Steve shook his head. But he's got to live long enough to tell them, todeceive them.     I'll live long enough, Whiting said, and Steve knew then that hewould. Luck to—all of you. From a—very foolish—man....  <doc-sep>   The Snare     By RICHARD R. SMITH     Illustrated by WEISS     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy January 1956.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright     on this publication was renewed.]        It's easy to find a solution when there is one—the trick is to do itif there is none!        I glanced at the path we had made across the      Mare Serenitatis     . TheLatin translated as the Sea of Serenity. It was well named because,as far as the eye could see in every direction, there was a smoothlayer of pumice that resembled the surface of a calm sea. Scatteredacross the quiet sea of virgin Moon dust were occasional islandsof rock that jutted abruptly toward the infinity of stars above.Considering everything, our surroundings conveyed a sense of serenitylike none I had ever felt.     Our bounding path across the level expanse was clearly marked. Becauseof the light gravity, we had leaped high into the air with each stepand every time we struck the ground, the impact had raised a cloud ofdustlike pumice. Now the clouds of dust were slowly settling in thelight gravity.     Above us, the stars were cold, motionless and crystal-clear.Indifferently, they sprayed a faint light on our surroundings ... adim glow that was hardly sufficient for normal vision and was too weakto be reflected toward Earth.     We turned our head-lamps on the strange object before us. Five beamsof light illuminated the smooth shape that protruded from the Moon'ssurface.     The incongruity was so awesome that for several minutes, we remainedmotionless and quiet. Miller broke the silence with his quaveringvoice, Strange someone didn't notice it before.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How does Marie's situation evolve throughout The Snare?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the nature of the relationship between Ed and Verana in The Snare? [SEP] <s>I took Verana's hand and led her down the long corridor, retracing oursteps.     We had walked not more than two yards when the rest of the doorsopened soundlessly.     Verana's hand flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp.     Six doors were now open. The only two that remained closed were theones that the Kanes had unwillingly entered.     This time, no invisible hand thrust us into any of the rooms.     I entered the nearest one. Verana followed hesitantly.     The walls of the large room were lined with shelves containingthousands of variously colored boxes and bottles. A table and fourchairs were located in the center of the green, plasticlike floor. Eachchair had no back, only a curving platform with a single supportingcolumn.     Ed! I joined Verana on the other side of the room. She pointed atrembling finger at some crude drawings. The things in this room arefood!     The drawings were so simple that anyone could have understood them.The first drawing portrayed a naked man and woman removing boxes andbottles from the shelves. The second picture showed the couple openingthe containers. The third showed the man eating from one of the boxesand the woman drinking from a bottle.       Let's see how it tastes, I said.     I selected an orange-colored box. The lid dissolved at the touch of myfingers.     The only contents were small cubes of a soft orange substance.     I tasted a small piece.     Chocolate! Just like chocolate!     Verana chose a nearby bottle and drank some of the bluish liquid.     Milk! she exclaimed.     Perhaps we'd better look at the other rooms, I told her.  <doc-sep>Kane stalked into the room at that moment, his face red with anger.      Do you know where we are?      he demanded. When those damned aliensgot me in that room, they explained what this is all about. We'reguinea pigs!     Did they use telepathy to explain? Verana asked. I suddenlyremembered that she was a member of a club that investigatedextra-sensory perception with the hope of learning how it operated. Shewas probably sorry she hadn't been contacted telepathically.     Yeah, Kane replied. I saw all sorts of mental pictures and theyexplained what they did to us. Those damned aliens want us for theirzoo!     Start at the beginning, I suggested.     He flashed an angry glance at me, but seemed to calm somewhat. Thisship was made by a race from another galaxy. Thousands of years ago,they came to Earth in their spaceships when men were primitives livingin caves. They wanted to know what our civilization would be likewhen we developed space flight. So they put this ship on the Moon as asort of booby-trap. They put it there with the idea that when we madespaceships and went to the Moon, sooner or later, we'd find the shipand enter it—      like rabbits in a snare!          And now the booby-trap is on its way home, I guessed.     Yeah, this ship is taking us to their planet and they're going to keepus there while they study us.     How long will the trip take? I asked.     Six months. We'll be bottled up in this crate for six whole damnedmonths! And when we get there, we'll be prisoners!     Marie's hypnotic spell was fading and once more her face showed theterror inside her.     Don't feel so bad, I told Kane. It could be worse. It should beinteresting to see an alien race. We'll have our wives with us—     Maybe they'll dissect us! Marie gasped.     Verana scoffed. A race intelligent enough to build a ship like this? Arace that was traveling between the stars when we were living in caves?Dissection is primitive. They won't      have to     dissect us in order tostudy us. They'll have more advanced methods.     Maybe we can reach the ship's controls somehow, Kane said excitedly.We've got to try to change the ship's course and get back to theMoon!     It's impossible. Don't waste your time. The voice had no visiblesource and seemed to fill the room.  <doc-sep>When I awoke, my head was throbbing painfully.     I opened my eyes and blinked several times to make sure they werefunctioning properly. I wasn't in the compartment where I had fallenasleep a few hours before.     I was tied to one of the chairs in the kitchen. Beside me, Verana wasbound to a chair by strips of cloth from her skirt, and across from us,Marie was secured to another chair.     Kane staggered into the room. Although he was visibly drunk, heappeared more sober than the night before. His dark hair was rumpledand his face was flushed, but his eyes gleamed with a growing alertness.     Awake, huh?     What have you done, Harry? his wife screamed at him. Her eyes werered with tears and her lips twisted in an expression of shame when shelooked at him.     Obvious, isn't it? While all of you were asleep, I conked each of youon the head, dragged you in here and tied you up. He smiled crookedly.It's amazing the things a person can do when he's pickled. I'm sorry Ihad to be so rough, but I have a plan and I knew you wouldn't agree orcooperate with me.     What's your plan? I asked.     He grinned wryly and crinkled bloodshot eyes. I don't want to live ina zoo on an alien planet. I want to go home and prove my theory thatthis problem has a solution.     I grunted my disgust.     The solution is simple, he said. We're in a trap so strong that thealiens didn't establish any means to control our actions. When men puta lion in a strong cage, they don't worry about controlling the lionbecause the lion can't get out. We're in the same basic situation.     So what? Verana queried in a sarcastic tone.     The aliens want us transported to their planet so they can examine andquestion us. Right?     Right.     Ed, remember that remark the machine made last night?     What remark?     It said, '      My     masters will be displeased with      me     if you arrive in adamaged condition.' What does that indicate to you?  <doc-sep>I assumed a baffled expression. I didn't have the slightest idea ofwhat he was driving at and I told him so.     Ed, he said, if you could build an electronic brain capable ofmaking decisions, how would you build it?     Hell, I don't know, I confessed.     Well, if I could build an electronic brain like the one running thisship, I'd build it with a      conscience     so it'd do its best at alltimes.     Machines always do their best, I argued. Come on, untie us. I'mgetting a crick in my back! I didn't like the idea of being sluggedwhile asleep. If Kane had been sober and if his wife hadn't beenpresent, I would have let him know exactly what I thought of him.           Our     machines always do their best, he argued, because we punchbuttons and they respond in predetermined patterns. But the electronicbrain in this ship isn't automatic. It makes decisions and I'll bet iteven has to decide how much energy and time to put into each process!     So what?     He shrugged muscular shoulders. So this ship is operated by athinking, conscientious machine. It's the first time I've encounteredsuch a machine, but I think I know what will happen. I spent hours lastnight figuring—     What are you talking about? I interrupted. Are you so drunk that youdon't know—     I'll show you, Ed.     He walked around the table and stood behind my chair. I felt his thickfingers around my throat and smelled the alcohol on his breath.     Can you see me, machine? he asked the empty air.     Yes, the electronic brain replied.     Watch!     Kane tightened his fingers around my throat.     Verana and Marie screamed shrilly.     My head seemed to swell like a balloon; my throat gurgled painfully.     Please stop, the machine pleaded.     What will your masters think of you if I kill all of us? You'll returnto them with a cargo of dead people!  <doc-sep>For several minutes, we sampled the different foods. Every one had adistinctive flavor, comparable to that of a fruit or vegetable on Earth.     Kane lifted a brown bottle to his lips, took a huge gulp and almostchoked.     Whiskey!     My masters realized your race would develop intoxicants and tried tocreate a comparable one, the machine explained.     I selected a brown bottle and sampled the liquid. A little strongerthan our own, I informed the machine.     We drank until Kane was staggering about the room, shouting insults atthe alien race and the mechanical voice that seemed to be everywhere.He beat his fist against a wall until blood trickled from bruisedknuckles.     Please don't hurt yourself, the machine pleaded.           Why?      Kane screamed at the ceiling. Why should you care?     My masters will be displeased with me if you arrive in a damagedcondition.     Kane banged his head against a bulkhead; an ugly bruise formed rapidly.Shtop me, then!     I can't. My masters created no way for me to restrain or contact youother than use of your language.     It took fully fifteen minutes to drag Kane to his sleeping compartment.     After I left Kane in his wife's care, I went to the adjoining room andstretched out on the soft floor beside Verana.     I tried to think of some solution. We were locked in an alien ship atthe start of a six months' journey to a strange planet. We had no toolsor weapons.     Solution? I doubted if two dozen geniuses working steadily for yearscould think of one!     I wondered what the alien race was like. Intelligent, surely: They hadforeseen our conquest of space flight when we hadn't even inventedthe wheel. That thought awed me—somehow they had analyzed our brainsthousands of years ago and calculated what our future accomplishmentswould be.     They had been able to predict our scientific development, but theyhadn't been able to tell how our civilization would develop. They werecurious, so they had left an enormously elaborate piece of bait on theMoon.     The aliens were incredibly more advanced than ourselves. I couldn'thelp thinking,      And to a rabbit in a snare, mankind must seemimpossibly clever     .     I decided to ask the machine about its makers in the morning.  <doc-sep>Look at it! Loyce snapped. Come on out here!     Don Fergusson came slowly out of the store, buttoning his pin-stripecoat with dignity. This is a big deal, Ed. I can't just leave the guystanding there.     See it? Ed pointed into the gathering gloom. The lamppost jutted upagainst the sky—the post and the bundle swinging from it. There it is.How the hell long has it been there? His voice rose excitedly. What'swrong with everybody? They just walk on past!     Don Fergusson lit a cigarette slowly. Take it easy, old man. There mustbe a good reason, or it wouldn't be there.     A reason! What kind of a reason?     Fergusson shrugged. Like the time the Traffic Safety Council put thatwrecked Buick there. Some sort of civic thing. How would I know?     Jack Potter from the shoe shop joined them. What's up, boys?     There's a body hanging from the lamppost, Loyce said. I'm going tocall the cops.     They must know about it, Potter said. Or otherwise it wouldn't bethere.     I got to get back in. Fergusson headed back into the store. Businessbefore pleasure.     Loyce began to get hysterical. You see it? You see it hanging there? Aman's body! A dead man!     Sure, Ed. I saw it this afternoon when I went out for coffee.     You mean it's been there all afternoon?     Sure. What's the matter? Potter glanced at his watch. Have to run.See you later, Ed.     Potter hurried off, joining the flow of people moving along thesidewalk. Men and women, passing by the park. A few glanced up curiouslyat the dark bundle—and then went on. Nobody stopped. Nobody paid anyattention.     I'm going nuts, Loyce whispered. He made his way to the curb andcrossed out into traffic, among the cars. Horns honked angrily at him.He gained the curb and stepped up onto the little square of green.     The man had been middle-aged. His clothing was ripped and torn, a graysuit, splashed and caked with dried mud. A stranger. Loyce had neverseen him before. Not a local man. His face was partly turned, away, andin the evening wind he spun a little, turning gently, silently. His skinwas gouged and cut. Red gashes, deep scratches of congealed blood. Apair of steel-rimmed glasses hung from one ear, dangling foolishly. Hiseyes bulged. His mouth was open, tongue thick and ugly blue.     For Heaven's sake, Loyce muttered, sickened. He pushed down his nauseaand made his way back to the sidewalk. He was shaking all over, withrevulsion—and fear.       Why?     Who was the man? Why was he hanging there? What did it mean?     And—why didn't anybody notice?     He bumped into a small man hurrying along the sidewalk. Watch it! theman grated, Oh, it's you, Ed.     Ed nodded dazedly. Hello, Jenkins.     What's the matter? The stationery clerk caught Ed's arm. You looksick.     The body. There in the park.     Sure, Ed. Jenkins led him into the alcove of LOYCE TV SALES ANDSERVICE. Take it easy.     Margaret Henderson from the jewelry store joined them. Somethingwrong?     Ed's not feeling well.     Loyce yanked himself free. How can you stand here? Don't you see it?For God's sake—     What's he talking about? Margaret asked nervously.     The body! Ed shouted. The body hanging there!     More people collected. Is he sick? It's Ed Loyce. You okay, Ed?     The body! Loyce screamed, struggling to get past them. Hands caught athim. He tore loose. Let me go! The police! Get the police!     Ed—     Better get a doctor!     He must be sick.     Or drunk.     Loyce fought his way through the people. He stumbled and half fell.Through a blur he saw rows of faces, curious, concerned, anxious. Menand women halting to see what the disturbance was. He fought past themtoward his store. He could see Fergusson inside talking to a man,showing him an Emerson TV set. Pete Foley in the back at the servicecounter, setting up a new Philco. Loyce shouted at them frantically.His voice was lost in the roar of traffic and the murmur around him.     Do something! he screamed. Don't stand there! Do something!Something's wrong! Something's happened! Things are going on!     The crowd melted respectfully for the two heavy-set cops movingefficiently toward Loyce.  <doc-sep>Ed! Janet Loyce backed away nervously. What is it? What—     Ed Loyce slammed the door behind him and came into the living room.Pull down the shades. Quick.     Janet moved toward the window. But—     Do as I say. Who else is here besides you?     Nobody. Just the twins. They're upstairs in their room. What'shappened? You look so strange. Why are you home?     Ed locked the front door. He prowled around the house, into the kitchen.From the drawer under the sink he slid out the big butcher knife and ranhis finger along it. Sharp. Plenty sharp. He returned to the livingroom.     Listen to me, he said. I don't have much time. They know I escapedand they'll be looking for me.     Escaped? Janet's face twisted with bewilderment and fear. Who?     The town has been taken over. They're in control. I've got it prettywell figured out. They started at the top, at the City Hall and policedepartment. What they did with the      real     humans they—     What are you talking about?     We've been invaded. From some other universe, some other dimension.They're insects. Mimicry. And more. Power to control minds. Your mind.     My mind?     Their entrance is      here     , in Pikeville. They've taken over all of you.The whole town—except me. We're up against an incredibly powerfulenemy, but they have their limitations. That's our hope. They'relimited! They can make mistakes!     Janet shook her head. I don't understand, Ed. You must be insane.     Insane? No. Just lucky. If I hadn't been down in the basement I'd belike all the rest of you. Loyce peered out the window. But I can'tstand here talking. Get your coat.     My coat?     We're getting out of here. Out of Pikeville. We've got to get help.Fight this thing. They      can     be beaten. They're not infallible. It'sgoing to be close—but we may make it if we hurry. Come on! He grabbedher arm roughly. Get your coat and call the twins. We're all leaving.Don't stop to pack. There's no time for that.     White-faced, his wife moved toward the closet and got down her coat.Where are we going?     Ed pulled open the desk drawer and spilled the contents out onto thefloor. He grabbed up a road map and spread it open. They'll have thehighway covered, of course. But there's a back road. To Oak Grove. I gotonto it once. It's practically abandoned. Maybe they'll forget aboutit.     The old Ranch Road? Good Lord—it's completely closed. Nobody'ssupposed to drive over it.     I know. Ed thrust the map grimly into his coat. That's our bestchance. Now call down the twins and let's get going. Your car is full ofgas, isn't it?     Janet was dazed.     The Chevy? I had it filled up yesterday afternoon. Janet moved towardthe stairs. Ed, I—     Call the twins! Ed unlocked the front door and peered out. Nothingstirred. No sign of life. All right so far.     Come on downstairs, Janet called in a wavering voice. We're—goingout for awhile.     Now? Tommy's voice came.     Hurry up, Ed barked. Get down here, both of you.     Tommy appeared at the top of the stairs. I was doing my home work.We're starting fractions. Miss Parker says if we don't get this done—     You can forget about fractions. Ed grabbed his son as he came down thestairs and propelled him toward the door. Where's Jim?     He's coming.     Jim started slowly down the stairs. What's up, Dad?     We're going for a ride.     A ride? Where?     Ed turned to Janet. We'll leave the lights on. And the TV set. Go turnit on. He pushed her toward the set. So they'll think we're still—     He heard the buzz. And dropped instantly, the long butcher knife out.Sickened, he saw it coming down the stairs at him, wings a blur ofmotion as it aimed itself. It still bore a vague resemblance to Jimmy.It was small, a baby one. A brief glimpse—the thing hurtling at him,cold, multi-lensed inhuman eyes. Wings, body still clothed in yellowT-shirt and jeans, the mimic outline still stamped on it. A strangehalf-turn of its body as it reached him. What was it doing?     A stinger.     Loyce stabbed wildly at it. It retreated, buzzing frantically. Loycerolled and crawled toward the door. Tommy and Janet stood still asstatues, faces blank. Watching without expression. Loyce stabbed again.This time the knife connected. The thing shrieked and faltered. Itbounced against the wall and fluttered down.     Something lapped through his mind. A wall of force, energy, an alienmind probing into him. He was suddenly paralyzed. The mind entered hisown, touched against him briefly, shockingly. An utterly alien presence,settling over him—and then it flickered out as the thing collapsed in abroken heap on the rug.     It was dead. He turned it over with his foot. It was an insect, a fly ofsome kind. Yellow T-shirt, jeans. His son Jimmy.... He closed his mindtight. It was too late to think about that. Savagely he scooped up hisknife and headed toward the door. Janet and Tommy stood stone-still,neither of them moving.     The car was out. He'd never get through. They'd be waiting for him. Itwas ten miles on foot. Ten long miles over rough ground, gulleys andopen fields and hills of uncut forest. He'd have to go alone.     Loyce opened the door. For a brief second he looked back at his wife andson. Then he slammed the door behind him and raced down the porch steps.     A moment later he was on his way, hurrying swiftly through the darknesstoward the edge of town.  <doc-sep>At the end of the corridor, Kane stopped before a blank wall. The sweaton his face glistened dully; his chest rose and fell rapidly. Kane wasa pilot and one of the prerequisites for the job of guiding tons ofmetal between Earth and the Moon was a good set of nerves. Kane excitedeasily, his temper was fiery, but his nerves were like steel.     The end of the line, he grunted.     As though to disprove the statement, a door on his right side openedsoundlessly.     He went through the doorway as if shoved violently by an invisible hand.     The door closed behind him.     Marie threw herself at the door and beat at the metal. Harry!     Verana rushed to her side. Another door on the opposite side of thecorridor opened silently. The door was behind them; they didn't notice.     Before I could warn them, Marie floated across the corridor, throughthe doorway.     Verana and I stared at the darkness beyond the opening, our musclesfrozen by shock.     The door closed behind Marie's screaming, struggling form.     Verana's face was white with fear. Apprehensively, she glanced at theother doors that lined the hall.     I put my arms around her, held her close.     Antigravity machines, force rays, I suggested worriedly.     For several minutes, we remained motionless and silent. I recalled thepreceding events of the day, searched for a sense of normality in them.The Kanes, Miller, Verana and I lived in Lunar City with hundreds ofother people. Mankind had inhabited the Moon for over a year. Meansof recreation were scarce. Many people explored the place to amusethemselves. After supper, we had decided to take a walk. As simple asthat: a walk on the Moon.     We had expected only the familiar craters, chasms and weird rockformations. A twist of fate and here we were: imprisoned in an alienship.     My legs quivered with fatigue, my heart throbbed heavily, Verana'sperfume dizzied me. No, it wasn't a dream. Despite our incrediblesituation, there was no sensation of unreality.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the nature of the relationship between Ed and Verana in The Snare?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in SIGNAL RED? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>  SIGNAL RED     By HENRY GUTH     They tried to stop him. Earth Flight 21 was a     suicide run, a coffin ship, they told him.     Uranian death lay athwart the space lanes. But     Shano already knew this was his last ride.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Mercurian night settled black and thick over the Q City Spaceport.Tentative fingers of light flicked and probed the sky, and winked out.     Here she comes, somebody in the line ahead said.     Shano coughed, his whole skeletal body jerking. Arthritic joints sentflashes of pain along his limbs. Here she comes, he thought, feelingneither glad nor sad.     He coughed and slipped polarized goggles over his eyes.     The spaceport emerged bathed in infra red. Hangars, cradles, freightercatapults and long runways stood out in sharp, diamond-clear detail.High up, beyond the cone of illumination, a detached triple row ofbright specks—portholes of the liner      Stardust     —sank slowly down.     There was no eagerness in him. Only a tiredness. A relief. Relief froma lifetime of beating around the planets. A life of digging, lifting,lugging and pounding. Like a work-worn Martian camel, he was going hometo die.     As though on oiled pistons the ship sank into the light, its longshark-like hull glowing soft and silvery, and settled with a featherysnuggle into the cradle's ribs.     The passenger line quivered as a loud-speaker boomed:           Stardust, now arrived at Cradle Six! Stardust, Cradle Six! Allpassengers for Venus and Earth prepare to board in ten minutes.          Shano coughed, and wiped phlegm from his thin lips, his hand followingaround the bony contours of his face, feeling the hollows and the beardstubble and loose skin of his neck. He coughed and thought of thevanium mines of Pluto, and his gum-clogged lungs. A vague, pressingdesire for home overwhelmed him. It had been so long.           Attention! Attention, Stardust passengers! The signal is red. Thesignal is red. Refunds now being made. Refunds now. Take-off in fiveminutes.          The man ahead swore and flicked up an arm. Red, he groaned. By theinfinite galaxies, this is the last straw! He charged away, knockingShano aside as he passed.       Red signal.     In bewildered anxiety Shano lifted the goggles from hiseyes and stared into the sudden blackness. The red signal. Danger outthere. Passengers advised to ground themselves, or travel at their ownrisk.     He felt the passengers bump and fumble past him, grumbling vexatiously.     A hot dread assailed him, and he coughed, plucking at his chest.Plucking at an urgency there.     Dropping the goggles to his rheumy eyes, he saw that the passenger linehad dissolved. He moved, shuffling, to the gate, thrust his ticket intothe scanner slot, and pushed through the turnstile when it clicked.           Flight twenty-one, now arriving from Venus     , the loud-speaker saidmonotonously. Shano glanced briefly upward and saw the gleaming bellyof twenty-one sinking into the spaceport cone of light.     He clawed his way up the gangway and thrust out his ticket to thelieutenant standing alone at the air lock. The lieutenant, a sullen,chunky man with a queer nick in his jawbone, refused the ticket.Haven't you heard, mister? Red signal. Go on back.     Shano coughed, and peered through the lenses of his goggles. Please,he said. Want to go home. I've a right. The nicked jaw stirred faintmemories within his glazed mind.     The lieutenant punched his ticket. It's your funeral, old man.     The loud-speaker blared.       Stardust, taking off in thirty seconds. Thesignal is red. Stardust, taking—          With the words dinning in his ears, Shano stepped into the air lock.The officer followed, spun wheels, and the lock closed. The outside wasshut off.     Lifting goggles they entered the hull, through a series of two morelocks, closing each behind them.     We're afloat, the officer said. We've taken off. A fleck of lightdanced far back in his eye. Shano felt the pressure of accelerationgradually increasing, increasing, and hurried in.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>They walked toward the ugly red mound that jutted above the green. Whenthey came close enough, he saw the bodies lying there ... the remains,actually, of what had once been bodies. He felt too sickened to go onwalking.     It may seem cruel now, she said, but the Martians realized thatthere is no cure for the will to conquer. There is no safety from it,either, as the people of Earth and Venus discovered, unless it isgiven an impossible obstacle to overcome. So the Martians provided theConquerors with a mountain. They themselves wanted to climb. They hadto.     He was hardly listening as he walked away from Helene toward the erodedhills. The crew members of the first four ships were skeletons tiedtogether with imperishably strong rope about their waists. Far beyondthem were those from      Mars V     , too freshly dead to have decayedmuch ... Anhauser with his rope cut, a bullet in his head; Jacobs andMarsha and the others ... Terrence much past them all. He had managedto climb higher than anyone else and he lay with his arms stretchedout, his fingers still clutching at rock outcroppings.     The trail they left wound over the ground, chipped in places for holds,red elsewhere with blood from torn hands. Terrence was more than twelvemiles from the ship—horizontally.     Bruce lifted Marsha and carried her back over the rocky dust, into thefresh fragrance of the high grass, and across it to the shade and peacebeside the canal.     He put her down. She looked peaceful enough, more peaceful than thatother time, years ago, when the two of them seemed to have shared somuch, when the future had not yet destroyed her. He saw the shadow ofHelene bend across Marsha's face against the background of the silentlyflowing water of the cool, green canal.     You loved her?     Once, Bruce said. She might have been sane. They got her when shewas young. Too young to fight. But she would have, I think, if she'dbeen older when they got her.     He sat looking down at Marsha's face, and then at the water with theleaves floating down it.     '... And the springs that flow on the floor of the valley will neverseem fresh or clear for thinking of the glitter of the mountain waterin the feathery green of the year....'     He stood up, walked back with Helene along the canal toward the calmcity. He didn't look back.     They've all been dead quite a while, Bruce said wonderingly. YetI seemed to be hearing from Terrence until only a short time ago.Are—are the climbers still climbing—somewhere, Helene?     Who knows? Helene answered softly. Maybe. I doubt if even theMartians have the answer to that.     They entered the city.   <doc-sep>She was pink and clean and her platinum hair was pulled straight back,drawing her cheek-bones tighter, straightening her wide, appealingmouth, drawing her lean, athletic, feminine body erect. She was wearinga powder-blue dress that covered all of her breasts and hips and theupper half of her legs.     The most wonderful thing about her was her perfume. Then I realized itwasn't perfume, only the scent of soap. Finally, I knew it wasn't that.It was just healthy, fresh-scrubbed skin.     I went to her at the bus stop, forcing my legs not to stagger. Nobodywould help a drunk. I don't know why, but nobody will help you if theythink you are blotto.     Ma'am, could you help a man who's not had work? I kept my eyes down.I couldn't look a human in the eye and ask for help. Just a dime for acup of coffee. I knew where I could get it for three cents, maybe twoand a half.     I felt her looking at me. She spoke in an educated voice, one she used,perhaps, as a teacher or supervising telephone operator. Do you wantit for coffee, or to apply, or a glass or hypo of something else?     I cringed and whined. She would expect it of me. I suddenly realizedthat anybody as clean as she was had to be a tourist here. I hatetourists.     Just coffee, ma'am. She was younger than I was, so I didn't have tocall her that. A little more for food, if you could spare it.     I hadn't eaten in a day and a half, but I didn't care much.     I'll buy you a dinner, she said carefully, provided I can go withyou and see for myself that you actually eat it.     I felt my face flushing red. You wouldn't want to be seen with a bumlike me, ma'am.     I'll be seen with you if you really want to eat.     It was certainly unfair and probably immoral. But I had no choicewhatever.     Okay, I said, tasting bitterness over the craving.  <doc-sep>The first thing you learn in school is that if it weren't for idiot andcriminal people like these, Earth would never have been destroyed. Theevacuation would never have had to take place, and eight billion peoplewouldn't have died. There wouldn't have      been     eight billion people.But, no. They bred and they spread and they devoured everything intheir path like a cancer. They gobbled up all the resources that Earthhad and crowded and shoved one another until the final war came.     I am lucky. My great-great-grandparents were among those who had enoughforesight to see what was coming. If it hadn't been for them and someothers like them, there wouldn't be any humans left anywhere. And Iwouldn't be here. That may not scare you, but it scares me.     What happened before, when people didn't use their heads and wound upblowing the Solar System apart, is something nobody should forget. Theolder people don't let us forget. But these people had, and that theCouncil should know.     For the first time since I landed on Tintera, I felt      really     frightened. There was too much going on that I didn't understand. Ifelt a blind urge to get away, and when I reached the edge of town, Iwhomped Ninc a good one and gave him his head.     I let him run for almost a mile before I pulled him down to a walkagain. I couldn't help wishing for Jimmy D. Whatever else he is, he'ssmart and brains I needed.     How do you find out what's going on? Eavesdrop? That's a lousy method.For one thing, people can't be depended on to talk about the things youwant to hear. For another, you're likely to get caught. Ask somebody?Who? Make the mistake of bracing a fellow like Horst and you might windup with a sore head and an empty pocket. The best thing I could thinkof was to find a library, but that might be a job.     I'd had two bad shocks on this day, but they weren't the last. In thelate afternoon, when the sun was starting to sink and a cool wind wasstarting to ripple the tree leaves, I saw the scoutship high in thesky. The dying sun colored it a deep red. Back again? I wondered whathad gone wrong.     I reached down into my saddlebag and brought out my contact signal.The scoutship swung up in the sky in a familiar movement calculated todrop the stomach out of everybody aboard. George Fuhonin's style. Itriggered the signal, my heart turning flips all the while. I didn'tknow why he was back, but I wasn't really sorry.     The ship swung around until it was coming back on a path almost over myhead, going in the same direction. Then it went into a slip and startedbucking so hard that I knew this wasn't hot piloting at all, just plainidiot stutter-fingered stupidity at the controls. As it skidded by meoverhead, I got a good look at it and knew that it wasn't one of ours.Not too different, but not ours.       One more enigma. Where was it from? Not here. Even if you know how, andwe wouldn't tell these Mud-eaters how, a scoutship is something thattakes an advanced technology to build.  <doc-sep>Carpenter rubbed modestly gloved hands together. I have no immediatebusiness, so supposing I start showing you the sights. What would youlike to see first, Mr. Frey? Or would you prefer a nice, restful movid?     Frankly, Michael admitted, the first thing I'd like to do is getmyself something to eat. I didn't have any breakfast and I'm famished.Two small creatures standing close to him giggled nervously andscuttled off on six legs apiece.     Shh, not so loud! There are females present. Carpenter drew theyouth to a secluded corner. Don't you know that on Theemim it'sfrightfully vulgar to as much as speak of eating in public?     But why? Michael demanded in too loud a voice. What's wrong witheating in public here on Earth?     Carpenter clapped a hand over the young man's mouth. Hush, hecautioned. After all, on Earth there are things we don't do or evenmention in public, aren't there?     Well, yes. But those are different.     Not at all. Those rules might seem just as ridiculous to a Theemimian.But the Theemimians have accepted our customs just as we have acceptedthe Theemimians'. How would you like it if a Theemimian violatedone of our tabus in public? You must consider the feelings of theTheemimians as equal to your own. Observe the golden rule: 'Do untoextraterrestrials as you would be done by.'     But I'm still hungry, Michael persisted, modulating his voice,however, to a decent whisper. Do the proprieties demand that I starveto death, or can I get something to eat somewhere?     Naturally, the salesman whispered back. Portyork provides for allbodily needs. Numerous feeding stations are conveniently locatedthroughout the port, and there must be some on the field.     After gazing furtively over his shoulder to see that no females werewatching, Carpenter approached a large map of the landing field andpressed a button. A tiny red light winked demurely for an instant.     That's the nearest one, Carpenter explained.  <doc-sep>As if to provide an example, a figure suddenly materialized ontheir side of the bubble. The wolflike dogs bared their fangs. Foran instant, there was only an eerie, distorted, rapidly growingsilhouette, changing from blood-red to black as the boundary of thebubble cross-sectioned the intruding figure. Then they recognized theback of another long-haired warrior and realized that the audience onthe other side of the bubble had probably seen him approaching for sometime.     He bowed to the hooded figure and handed him a small bag.     More atavistic cubs, big and little! Hold still, Cynthia, a new voicecut in.     Hal turned and saw that two cold-eyed girls had been ushered into thecubicle. One was wiping her close-cropped hair with one hand whilemopping a green stain from her friend's back with the other.     Hal nudged Joggy and whispered: Butch!     But Joggy was still hypnotized by the Time Bubble.     Then how is it, Hal, he asked, that light comes out of the bubble,if the people don't? What I mean is, if one of the people walks towardus, he shrinks to a red blot and disappears. Why doesn't the lightcoming our way disappear, too?     Well—you see, Joggy, it isn't real light. It's—     Once more the interpreter helped him out.     The light that comes from the bubble is an isotope. Like atoms ofone element, photons of a single frequency also have isotopes. It'smore than a matter of polarization. One of these isotopes of lighttends to leak futureward through holes in space-time. Most of thelight goes down the vistas visible to the other side of the audience.But one isotope is diverted through the walls of the bubble into theTime Theater. Perhaps, because of the intense darkness of the theater,you haven't realized how dimly lit the scene is. That's because we'regetting only a single isotope of the original light. Incidentally, noisotopes have been discovered that leak pastward, though attempts arebeing made to synthesize them.     Oh, explanations! murmured one of the newly arrived girls. The cubsare always angling for them. Apple-polishers!           I     like this show, a familiar voice announced serenely. They cutanybody yet with those choppers?     Hal looked down beside him. Butch! How did you manage to get in?     I don't see any blood. Where's the bodies?     But how      did     you get in—Butcher?  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in SIGNAL RED?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What are the characteristics of Rourke in SIGNAL RED? [SEP] <s>The ship coasted. Shano could sense it coasting. He couldn't feel itor hear it, but he knew it was sliding ghost-like through space like asubmarine dead under water, slipping quietly past a listening enemy.     The ship's speaker rasped softly.       Emergency. Battle posts.          The captain's voice. Calm, brief. It sent a tremor through Shano'sbody. He heard a quick scuffle of feet again, running feet, directlyoverhead, and the captain's voice, more urgently, Power on. They'veheard us.     The words carried no accusation, but Shano realized what they meant.A slip-up. Something left running. Vibrations picked up quickly bydetectors of the Uranian space fleet.     Shano coughed and heard the ship come to life around him. He pulledhimself out of the spasm, cursing Pluto. Cursing his diseased,gum-clogged lungs. Cursing the Uranian fleet that was trying to preventhis going home—even to die.     This was a strange battle. Strange indeed. It was mostly silence.     Occasionally, as though from another world, came a brief, curt order.Port guns alert. Then hush and tension.     The deck lurched and the ship swung this way and that. Maybe dodging,maybe maneuvering—Shano didn't know. He felt the deck lurch, that wasall.     Fire number seven.     He heard the weird scream of a ray gun, and felt the constrictingterror that seemed to belt the ship like an iron band.     This was a battle in space, and out there were Uranian cruisers tryingto blast the      Stardust     out of the sky. Trying and trying, while thecaptain dodged and fired back—pitted his skill and knowledge againstan enemy Shano couldn't see.     He wanted desperately to help the captain break through, and get toEarth. But he could only cling to the plastic pipes and cough.     The ship jounced and slid beneath his feet, and was filled with sound.It rocked and rolled. Shano caromed off the bulkhead.     Hold fire.     He crawled to his knees on the slippery deck, grabbed the pipes andpulled himself erect, hand over hand. His eyes came level with the graymetal box behind the pipes. He squinted, fascinated, at the quiveringdial needle. Hey! he said.     Stand by.     Shano puzzled it out, his mind groping. He wasn't used to thinking.Only working with his hands.     This box. This needle that had quivered when the ship was closeddown....     It's over. Chased them off. Ready guns before laying to. Third watchon duty.     Shano sighed at the sudden release of tension throughout the spaceliner      Stardust     .     Smoke spewed from his nostrils. His forehead wrinkled withconcentration. Those rumors: Man sells out to Uranus, gets a nick cutin his jaw. Ever see a man with a nick in his jaw? Watch him, he's upto something. The talk of ignorant men. Shano remembered.     He poked behind the pipes and angrily slapped the toggle switches onthe box. The captain would only scoff. He'd never believe there was atraitor aboard who had planted an electronic signal box, giving awaythe ship's position. He'd never believe the babblings of an old man.     He straightened up, glaring angrily. He knew. And the knowledge madehim cold and furious. He watched the engine room emergency exit as itopened cautiously.     A chunky man backed out, holstering a flat blaster. He turned and sawShano, standing smoking. He walked over and nudged Shano, his facedark. Shano blew smoke into the dark face.     Old man, said Rourke. What're you doing down here?     Shano blinked.     Rourke fingered the nick in his jaw, eyes glinting. You're supposed tobe in your cabin, he said. Didn't I warn you we'd run into trouble?     Shano smoked and contemplated the chunky man. Estimated his strengthand youth and felt the anger and frustration mount in him. Devil, hesaid.        Devil, he said and dug his cigarette into the other's face.        He lunged then, clawing. He dug the cigarette into Rourke's flushedface, and clung to his body. Rourke howled. He fell backward to thedeck, slapping at his blistered face. He thrashed around and Shanoclung to him, battered, pressing the cigarette relentlessly, coughing,cursing the pain in his joints.     Shano grasped Rourke's neck with his hands. He twisted the neck withhis gnarled hands. Strong hands that had worked.     He got up when Rourke stopped thrashing. The face was purple and hewas dead. Shano shivered. He crouched in the passageway shivering andcoughing.  <doc-sep>  SIGNAL RED     By HENRY GUTH     They tried to stop him. Earth Flight 21 was a     suicide run, a coffin ship, they told him.     Uranian death lay athwart the space lanes. But     Shano already knew this was his last ride.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Mercurian night settled black and thick over the Q City Spaceport.Tentative fingers of light flicked and probed the sky, and winked out.     Here she comes, somebody in the line ahead said.     Shano coughed, his whole skeletal body jerking. Arthritic joints sentflashes of pain along his limbs. Here she comes, he thought, feelingneither glad nor sad.     He coughed and slipped polarized goggles over his eyes.     The spaceport emerged bathed in infra red. Hangars, cradles, freightercatapults and long runways stood out in sharp, diamond-clear detail.High up, beyond the cone of illumination, a detached triple row ofbright specks—portholes of the liner      Stardust     —sank slowly down.     There was no eagerness in him. Only a tiredness. A relief. Relief froma lifetime of beating around the planets. A life of digging, lifting,lugging and pounding. Like a work-worn Martian camel, he was going hometo die.     As though on oiled pistons the ship sank into the light, its longshark-like hull glowing soft and silvery, and settled with a featherysnuggle into the cradle's ribs.     The passenger line quivered as a loud-speaker boomed:           Stardust, now arrived at Cradle Six! Stardust, Cradle Six! Allpassengers for Venus and Earth prepare to board in ten minutes.          Shano coughed, and wiped phlegm from his thin lips, his hand followingaround the bony contours of his face, feeling the hollows and the beardstubble and loose skin of his neck. He coughed and thought of thevanium mines of Pluto, and his gum-clogged lungs. A vague, pressingdesire for home overwhelmed him. It had been so long.           Attention! Attention, Stardust passengers! The signal is red. Thesignal is red. Refunds now being made. Refunds now. Take-off in fiveminutes.          The man ahead swore and flicked up an arm. Red, he groaned. By theinfinite galaxies, this is the last straw! He charged away, knockingShano aside as he passed.       Red signal.     In bewildered anxiety Shano lifted the goggles from hiseyes and stared into the sudden blackness. The red signal. Danger outthere. Passengers advised to ground themselves, or travel at their ownrisk.     He felt the passengers bump and fumble past him, grumbling vexatiously.     A hot dread assailed him, and he coughed, plucking at his chest.Plucking at an urgency there.     Dropping the goggles to his rheumy eyes, he saw that the passenger linehad dissolved. He moved, shuffling, to the gate, thrust his ticket intothe scanner slot, and pushed through the turnstile when it clicked.           Flight twenty-one, now arriving from Venus     , the loud-speaker saidmonotonously. Shano glanced briefly upward and saw the gleaming bellyof twenty-one sinking into the spaceport cone of light.     He clawed his way up the gangway and thrust out his ticket to thelieutenant standing alone at the air lock. The lieutenant, a sullen,chunky man with a queer nick in his jawbone, refused the ticket.Haven't you heard, mister? Red signal. Go on back.     Shano coughed, and peered through the lenses of his goggles. Please,he said. Want to go home. I've a right. The nicked jaw stirred faintmemories within his glazed mind.     The lieutenant punched his ticket. It's your funeral, old man.     The loud-speaker blared.       Stardust, taking off in thirty seconds. Thesignal is red. Stardust, taking—          With the words dinning in his ears, Shano stepped into the air lock.The officer followed, spun wheels, and the lock closed. The outside wasshut off.     Lifting goggles they entered the hull, through a series of two morelocks, closing each behind them.     We're afloat, the officer said. We've taken off. A fleck of lightdanced far back in his eye. Shano felt the pressure of accelerationgradually increasing, increasing, and hurried in.  <doc-sep>Huge as a primitive nuclear reactor, the great electronic brain loomedabove the knot of hush-voiced men. It almost filled a two-story room inthe Thinkers' Foundation. Its front was an orderly expanse of controls,indicators, telltales, and terminals, the upper ones reached by a chairon a boom.     Although, as far as anyone knew, it could sense only the informationand questions fed into it on a tape, the human visitors could notresist the impulse to talk in whispers and glance uneasily at the greatcryptic cube. After all, it had lately taken to moving some of itsown controls—the permissible ones—and could doubtless improvise ahearing apparatus if it wanted to.     For this was the thinking machine beside which the Marks and Eniacs andManiacs and Maddidas and Minervas and Mimirs were less than Morons.This was the machine with a million times as many synapses as the humanbrain, the machine that remembered by cutting delicate notches in therims of molecules (instead of kindergarten paper-punching or the ConeyIsland shimmying of columns of mercury). This was the machine that hadgiven instructions on building the last three-quarters of itself. Thiswas the goal, perhaps, toward which fallible human reasoning and biasedhuman judgment and feeble human ambition had evolved.       This was the machine that really thought—a million-plus!       This was the machine that the timid cyberneticists and stuffyprofessional scientists had said could not be built. Yet this was themachine that the Thinkers, with characteristic Yankee push,      had     built. And nicknamed, with characteristic Yankee irreverence andgirl-fondness, Maizie.     Gazing up at it, the President of the United States felt a chordplucked within him that hadn't been sounded for decades, the dark andshivery organ chord of his Baptist childhood. Here, in a strange sense,although his reason rejected it, he felt he stood face to face withthe living God: infinitely stern with the sternness of reality, yetinfinitely just. No tiniest error or wilful misstep could ever escapethe scrutiny of this vast mentality. He shivered.  <doc-sep>Veronica crept up behind Manet and slithered her hands up his back andover his shoulders. She leaned forward and breathed a moist warmth intohis ear, and worried the lobe with her even white teeth.     Daniel Boone, she sighed huskily, only killed three Indians in hislife.     I know.     Manet folded his arms stoically and added: Please don't talk.     She sighed her instant agreement and moved her expressive hands overhis chest and up to the hollows of his throat.     I need a shave, he observed.     Her hands instantly caressed his face to prove that she liked a ratherbristly, masculine countenance.     Manet elbowed Veronica away in a gentlemanly fashion.     She made her return.     Not now, he instructed her.     Whenever you say.     He stood up and began pacing off the dimensions of the compartment.There was no doubt about it: he had been missing his regular exercise.     Now? she asked.     I'll tell you.     If you were a jet pilot, Veronica said wistfully, you would beromantic. You would grab love when you could. You would never knowwhich moment would be last. You would make the most of each one.     I'm not a jet pilot, Manet said. There are no jet pilots. Therehaven't been any for generations.     Don't be silly, Veronica said. Who else would stop those vile NorthKoreans and Red China 'volunteers'?     Veronica, he said carefully, the Korean War is over. It was finishedeven before the last of the jet pilots.     Don't be silly, she snapped. If it were over, I'd know about it,wouldn't I?     She would, except that somehow she had turned out even less bright,less equipped with Manet's own store of information, than Ronald.Whoever had built the Lifo kit must have had ancient ideas about whatconstituted appropriate feminine characteristics.     I suppose, he said heavily, that you would like me to take you backto Earth and introduce you to Daniel Boone?     Oh, yes.     Veronica, your stupidity is hideous.     She lowered her long blonde lashes on her pink cheeks. That is a meanthing to say to me. But I forgive you.     An invisible hand began pressing down steadily on the top of his headuntil it forced a sound out of him. Aaaawrraagggh! Must you be socloyingly sweet? Do you have to keep taking that? Isn't there any fightin you at all?     He stepped forward and back-handed her across the jaw.     It was the first time he had ever struck a woman, he realizedregretfully. He now knew he should have been doing it long ago.     Veronica sprang forward and led with a right.  <doc-sep>The first thing you learn in school is that if it weren't for idiot andcriminal people like these, Earth would never have been destroyed. Theevacuation would never have had to take place, and eight billion peoplewouldn't have died. There wouldn't have      been     eight billion people.But, no. They bred and they spread and they devoured everything intheir path like a cancer. They gobbled up all the resources that Earthhad and crowded and shoved one another until the final war came.     I am lucky. My great-great-grandparents were among those who had enoughforesight to see what was coming. If it hadn't been for them and someothers like them, there wouldn't be any humans left anywhere. And Iwouldn't be here. That may not scare you, but it scares me.     What happened before, when people didn't use their heads and wound upblowing the Solar System apart, is something nobody should forget. Theolder people don't let us forget. But these people had, and that theCouncil should know.     For the first time since I landed on Tintera, I felt      really     frightened. There was too much going on that I didn't understand. Ifelt a blind urge to get away, and when I reached the edge of town, Iwhomped Ninc a good one and gave him his head.     I let him run for almost a mile before I pulled him down to a walkagain. I couldn't help wishing for Jimmy D. Whatever else he is, he'ssmart and brains I needed.     How do you find out what's going on? Eavesdrop? That's a lousy method.For one thing, people can't be depended on to talk about the things youwant to hear. For another, you're likely to get caught. Ask somebody?Who? Make the mistake of bracing a fellow like Horst and you might windup with a sore head and an empty pocket. The best thing I could thinkof was to find a library, but that might be a job.     I'd had two bad shocks on this day, but they weren't the last. In thelate afternoon, when the sun was starting to sink and a cool wind wasstarting to ripple the tree leaves, I saw the scoutship high in thesky. The dying sun colored it a deep red. Back again? I wondered whathad gone wrong.     I reached down into my saddlebag and brought out my contact signal.The scoutship swung up in the sky in a familiar movement calculated todrop the stomach out of everybody aboard. George Fuhonin's style. Itriggered the signal, my heart turning flips all the while. I didn'tknow why he was back, but I wasn't really sorry.     The ship swung around until it was coming back on a path almost over myhead, going in the same direction. Then it went into a slip and startedbucking so hard that I knew this wasn't hot piloting at all, just plainidiot stutter-fingered stupidity at the controls. As it skidded by meoverhead, I got a good look at it and knew that it wasn't one of ours.Not too different, but not ours.       One more enigma. Where was it from? Not here. Even if you know how, andwe wouldn't tell these Mud-eaters how, a scoutship is something thattakes an advanced technology to build.  <doc-sep>Steffens had not realized that there were so many.     They had been gathering since his ship was first seen, and now therewere hundreds of them clustered upon the hill. Others were arrivingeven as the skiff landed; they glided in over the rocky hills withfantastic ease and power, so that Steffens felt a momentary anxiety.Most of the robots were standing with the silent immobility of metal.Others threaded their way to the fore and came near the skiff, but nonetouched it, and a circle was cleared for Steffens when he came out.       One of the near robots came forward alone, moving, as Steffens nowsaw, on a number of short, incredibly strong and agile legs. The blackthing paused before him, extended a hand as it had done in the picture.Steffens took it, he hoped, warmly; felt the power of the metal throughthe glove of his suit.     Welcome, the robot said, speaking again to his mind, and nowSteffens detected a peculiar alteration in the robot's tone. It wasless friendly now, less—Steffens could not understand—somehow less      interested     , as if the robot had been—expecting someone else.     Thank you, Steffens said. We are deeply grateful for your permissionto land.     Our desire, the robot repeated mechanically, is only to serve.     Suddenly, Steffens began to feel alone, surrounded by machines. Hetried to push the thought out of his mind, because he knew that they      should     seem inhuman. But....     Will the others come down? asked the robot, still mechanically.     Steffens felt his embarrassment. The ship lay high in the mist above,jets throbbing gently.     They must remain with the ship, Steffens said aloud, trusting to therobot's formality not to ask him why. Although, if they could read hismind, there was no need to ask.     For a long while, neither spoke, long enough for Steffens to grow tenseand uncomfortable. He could not think of a thing to say, the robot wasobviously waiting, and so, in desperation, he signaled the Aliencon mento come on out of the skiff.     They came, wonderingly, and the ring of robots widened. Steffens heardthe one robot speak again. The voice was now much more friendly.     We hope you will forgive us for intruding upon your thought. It isour—custom—not to communicate unless we are called upon. But when weobserved that you were in ignorance of our real—nature—and were aboutto leave our planet, we decided to put aside our custom, so that youmight base your decision upon sufficient data.     Steffens replied haltingly that he appreciated their action.     We perceive, the robot went on, that you are unaware of our completeaccess to your mind, and would perhaps be—dismayed—to learn thatwe have been gathering information from you. We must—apologize.Our only purpose was so that we could communicate with you. Onlythat information was taken which is necessary for communicationand—understanding. We will enter your minds henceforth only at yourrequest.     Steffens did not react to the news that his mind was being probedas violently as he might have. Nevertheless it was a shock, and heretreated into observant silence as the Aliencon men went to work.     The robot which seemed to have been doing the speaking was in no waydifferent from any of the others in the group. Since each of the robotswas immediately aware of all that was being said or thought, Steffensguessed that they had sent one forward just for appearance's sake,because they perceived that the Earthmen would feel more at home. Thepicture of the extended hand, the characteristic handshake of Earthmen,had probably been borrowed, too, for the same purpose of making him andthe others feel at ease. The one jarring note was the robot's momentarylapse, those unexplainable few seconds when the things had seemedalmost disappointed. Steffens gave up wondering about that and began toexamine the first robot in detail.     It was not very tall, being at least a foot shorter than the Earthmen.The most peculiar thing about it, except for the circling eye-band ofthe head, was a mass of symbols which were apparently engraved upon themetal chest. Symbols in row upon row—numbers, perhaps—were upon thechest, and repeated again below the level of the arms, and continuedin orderly rows across the front of the robot, all the way down to thebase of the trunk. If they were numbers, Steffens thought, then it wasa remarkably complicated system. But he noticed the same pattern onthe nearer robots, all apparently identical. He was forced to concludethat the symbols were merely decoration and let it go tentatively atthat, although the answer seemed illogical.     It wasn't until he was on his way home that Steffens remembered thesymbols again. And only then did he realized what they were.  <doc-sep>Okay, threw back Star and the man appeared in the doorway, emptyhands held high. After a second, the other joined him.     Anne turned to Star. Now I know why they call you 'Death Star' Blade,she said, and gestured toward the men who had surrendered, and the twowhom Starrett had shot down.     He mused there for a minute. Then Anne broke the silence with, Star,what are we going to do now? Garrett's men will be up here in a littlewhile. We can't get to a sub-space beam. What are we going to do whenthey come up to investigate?     Starrett Blade laughed. Do? Well, we could turn them over to CommanderWeddel!           What?          Grinning broadly, Star pointed, with a flourish, at the door. Annespun about, and found Commander Weddel grinning in the door from thecorridor.     Very simple, said Star across the lounge to Anne. When I smashedthe vision set with that dinner fork, I broke a small unit which isincluded in all sets. You know, a direction finder doesn't work, exceptin the liner-beam principle, in space, because of the diffusing effectof unrestricted cosmic rays.     Yes, I knew that, said Anne. But how—     Starrett grinned again. A type of beam has been found which it isimpossible for cosmics to disturb. But you can't send messages onit, so it is made in a little unit on every set. If that unit isbroken, the set automatically releases a signal beam. This is adistress signal, and the location of the set that sent out the signalis recorded at the Section Headquarters. When Commander Weddel sawme throw something at the set, and it went dead, he looked at theautomatic record, and found out that a signal had been sent in froma location on Alpha Cen's third planet. Then he had a high-velocitycruiser brought out and dropped in, in time to pick up some pieces. Hestopped, and idly toyed with a sheaf of papers, then held them up. Seethese papers?     Uh-huh. What are they, Star?     They are the main plans of Devil Garrett's power plant, and they'rethe one good thing he's ever done. These plans are going to bring thebarren, rocky Centauri planets to life!     He got up, and paced to the window, and stood there, looking out, andup through the plastic port. The planets of Centauri! he murmuredsoftly. Seven circling Alpha alone. And all seven are barren, rocky,level except for the thousands of lakes ... lakes that are going to bethe life of Centauri!  <doc-sep>They wouldn't even know, he told himself, squirming through theemergency exit into the engine room, and sealing it after him. And theywouldn't understand if they did. Pink mist swirled about him. Toxiagas. Shano coughed.     He squinted around at the massive, incomprehensible machinery. The gutsof the space ship.     Then he saw the shattered, gold-gleaming cylinder, gas hissing froma fine nozzle, and filaments glowing bluish inside it, still workingaway. He saw five heavy Carrsteel rods hanging useless, on melted-downpins, and the slots their pronged ends hooked into. He looked at hishands, and shook his head.     One try, he said to himself. One try, Shano. One important thing inyour life. Here's your opportunity. The toxia gas will get you. It'llkill you at this concentration. But you'll last for maybe twelve hours.Another man wouldn't last a minute. Another man's lungs aren't cloggedwith Juno gum.     He grasped a rod and lifted it, sweating under the weight, and slippedthe forked end into its slot. Going home to die, he thought. Well,maybe not going home. Couldn't remember what Earth looked like anyway.     What was that again? Oh yeah—just lift them up, and when they dropoff, lift them up again.     Shano coughed, and lifted the heavy rods into position. One jerked backsuddenly and smoothly, and something went, Pop, pop, behind him andmachinery whirred. He lifted the rod and slipped it back on. Anotherjerked, pulled open a large valve, and dropped off. Shano bent, andlifted, coughing and coughing. He forgot what he was doing, mind blankthe way it went when he worked. Just rhythmically fell into the job,the way a laborer does. He waited for a rod to slip and fall, thenlifted it up and slipped it in place, skin sweating, joints shootingpain along his limbs. He heard the machinery working. He heard thehigh, howling whine of cosmic jets. He, Shano, was making the machinerygo. He was running the cosmic drive.     A bell clanged somewhere. Engine room! Engine room! We're under way!What happened?     Silence, while Shano coughed and made the machinery go, thinking aboutthe Earth he hadn't seen for many years.     Captain! the speaker bawled. There's a man in there! Working thevalve rods! Somebody is in the engine room and the gas isn't....     Shano grinned, feeling good. Feeling happy. Lifting the heavy steelrods, driving the ship. Keeping the jets screaming and hurtling theliner      Stardust     toward Venus. He wondered if they'd found Rourke yet.If he could keep going for twelve hours they would get to Venus. Afterthat....     Home, he coughed. Hell! Who wants to go home?     He plucked at his agitated chest, thinking of a whole damn Uranianfleet swooping down on a spot in space, expecting to find a crippledship there with a spy inside it. And finding nothing. Because of Shano.A useless old man.     Coughing came out all mixed up with laughing.   <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What are the characteristics of Rourke in SIGNAL RED?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What can be inferred about Shano's personality traits from his occupation and actions in the story SIGNAL RED? [SEP] <s>  SIGNAL RED     By HENRY GUTH     They tried to stop him. Earth Flight 21 was a     suicide run, a coffin ship, they told him.     Uranian death lay athwart the space lanes. But     Shano already knew this was his last ride.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Mercurian night settled black and thick over the Q City Spaceport.Tentative fingers of light flicked and probed the sky, and winked out.     Here she comes, somebody in the line ahead said.     Shano coughed, his whole skeletal body jerking. Arthritic joints sentflashes of pain along his limbs. Here she comes, he thought, feelingneither glad nor sad.     He coughed and slipped polarized goggles over his eyes.     The spaceport emerged bathed in infra red. Hangars, cradles, freightercatapults and long runways stood out in sharp, diamond-clear detail.High up, beyond the cone of illumination, a detached triple row ofbright specks—portholes of the liner      Stardust     —sank slowly down.     There was no eagerness in him. Only a tiredness. A relief. Relief froma lifetime of beating around the planets. A life of digging, lifting,lugging and pounding. Like a work-worn Martian camel, he was going hometo die.     As though on oiled pistons the ship sank into the light, its longshark-like hull glowing soft and silvery, and settled with a featherysnuggle into the cradle's ribs.     The passenger line quivered as a loud-speaker boomed:           Stardust, now arrived at Cradle Six! Stardust, Cradle Six! Allpassengers for Venus and Earth prepare to board in ten minutes.          Shano coughed, and wiped phlegm from his thin lips, his hand followingaround the bony contours of his face, feeling the hollows and the beardstubble and loose skin of his neck. He coughed and thought of thevanium mines of Pluto, and his gum-clogged lungs. A vague, pressingdesire for home overwhelmed him. It had been so long.           Attention! Attention, Stardust passengers! The signal is red. Thesignal is red. Refunds now being made. Refunds now. Take-off in fiveminutes.          The man ahead swore and flicked up an arm. Red, he groaned. By theinfinite galaxies, this is the last straw! He charged away, knockingShano aside as he passed.       Red signal.     In bewildered anxiety Shano lifted the goggles from hiseyes and stared into the sudden blackness. The red signal. Danger outthere. Passengers advised to ground themselves, or travel at their ownrisk.     He felt the passengers bump and fumble past him, grumbling vexatiously.     A hot dread assailed him, and he coughed, plucking at his chest.Plucking at an urgency there.     Dropping the goggles to his rheumy eyes, he saw that the passenger linehad dissolved. He moved, shuffling, to the gate, thrust his ticket intothe scanner slot, and pushed through the turnstile when it clicked.           Flight twenty-one, now arriving from Venus     , the loud-speaker saidmonotonously. Shano glanced briefly upward and saw the gleaming bellyof twenty-one sinking into the spaceport cone of light.     He clawed his way up the gangway and thrust out his ticket to thelieutenant standing alone at the air lock. The lieutenant, a sullen,chunky man with a queer nick in his jawbone, refused the ticket.Haven't you heard, mister? Red signal. Go on back.     Shano coughed, and peered through the lenses of his goggles. Please,he said. Want to go home. I've a right. The nicked jaw stirred faintmemories within his glazed mind.     The lieutenant punched his ticket. It's your funeral, old man.     The loud-speaker blared.       Stardust, taking off in thirty seconds. Thesignal is red. Stardust, taking—          With the words dinning in his ears, Shano stepped into the air lock.The officer followed, spun wheels, and the lock closed. The outside wasshut off.     Lifting goggles they entered the hull, through a series of two morelocks, closing each behind them.     We're afloat, the officer said. We've taken off. A fleck of lightdanced far back in his eye. Shano felt the pressure of accelerationgradually increasing, increasing, and hurried in.  <doc-sep>The ship coasted. Shano could sense it coasting. He couldn't feel itor hear it, but he knew it was sliding ghost-like through space like asubmarine dead under water, slipping quietly past a listening enemy.     The ship's speaker rasped softly.       Emergency. Battle posts.          The captain's voice. Calm, brief. It sent a tremor through Shano'sbody. He heard a quick scuffle of feet again, running feet, directlyoverhead, and the captain's voice, more urgently, Power on. They'veheard us.     The words carried no accusation, but Shano realized what they meant.A slip-up. Something left running. Vibrations picked up quickly bydetectors of the Uranian space fleet.     Shano coughed and heard the ship come to life around him. He pulledhimself out of the spasm, cursing Pluto. Cursing his diseased,gum-clogged lungs. Cursing the Uranian fleet that was trying to preventhis going home—even to die.     This was a strange battle. Strange indeed. It was mostly silence.     Occasionally, as though from another world, came a brief, curt order.Port guns alert. Then hush and tension.     The deck lurched and the ship swung this way and that. Maybe dodging,maybe maneuvering—Shano didn't know. He felt the deck lurch, that wasall.     Fire number seven.     He heard the weird scream of a ray gun, and felt the constrictingterror that seemed to belt the ship like an iron band.     This was a battle in space, and out there were Uranian cruisers tryingto blast the      Stardust     out of the sky. Trying and trying, while thecaptain dodged and fired back—pitted his skill and knowledge againstan enemy Shano couldn't see.     He wanted desperately to help the captain break through, and get toEarth. But he could only cling to the plastic pipes and cough.     The ship jounced and slid beneath his feet, and was filled with sound.It rocked and rolled. Shano caromed off the bulkhead.     Hold fire.     He crawled to his knees on the slippery deck, grabbed the pipes andpulled himself erect, hand over hand. His eyes came level with the graymetal box behind the pipes. He squinted, fascinated, at the quiveringdial needle. Hey! he said.     Stand by.     Shano puzzled it out, his mind groping. He wasn't used to thinking.Only working with his hands.     This box. This needle that had quivered when the ship was closeddown....     It's over. Chased them off. Ready guns before laying to. Third watchon duty.     Shano sighed at the sudden release of tension throughout the spaceliner      Stardust     .     Smoke spewed from his nostrils. His forehead wrinkled withconcentration. Those rumors: Man sells out to Uranus, gets a nick cutin his jaw. Ever see a man with a nick in his jaw? Watch him, he's upto something. The talk of ignorant men. Shano remembered.     He poked behind the pipes and angrily slapped the toggle switches onthe box. The captain would only scoff. He'd never believe there was atraitor aboard who had planted an electronic signal box, giving awaythe ship's position. He'd never believe the babblings of an old man.     He straightened up, glaring angrily. He knew. And the knowledge madehim cold and furious. He watched the engine room emergency exit as itopened cautiously.     A chunky man backed out, holstering a flat blaster. He turned and sawShano, standing smoking. He walked over and nudged Shano, his facedark. Shano blew smoke into the dark face.     Old man, said Rourke. What're you doing down here?     Shano blinked.     Rourke fingered the nick in his jaw, eyes glinting. You're supposed tobe in your cabin, he said. Didn't I warn you we'd run into trouble?     Shano smoked and contemplated the chunky man. Estimated his strengthand youth and felt the anger and frustration mount in him. Devil, hesaid.        Devil, he said and dug his cigarette into the other's face.        He lunged then, clawing. He dug the cigarette into Rourke's flushedface, and clung to his body. Rourke howled. He fell backward to thedeck, slapping at his blistered face. He thrashed around and Shanoclung to him, battered, pressing the cigarette relentlessly, coughing,cursing the pain in his joints.     Shano grasped Rourke's neck with his hands. He twisted the neck withhis gnarled hands. Strong hands that had worked.     He got up when Rourke stopped thrashing. The face was purple and hewas dead. Shano shivered. He crouched in the passageway shivering andcoughing.  <doc-sep>The ship's alarm clanged. Shano jerked from his bunk like a brokenwatch spring. He crouched, trembling, on arthritic joints, as aloud-speaker blared throughout the ship.           All hands! We now maintain dead silence. Close down and stop allmachinery. Power off and lights out. An enemy fleet is out there,listening and watching for mechanical and electronic disturbance.Atmosphere will be maintained from emergency oxygen cylinders. Stoppumps.          Shano crouched and listened as the ship's steady drone ceased and thevibrations ceased. The pumps stopped, the lights went out.     Pressing the cold steel bulkhead, Shano heard oxygen hiss through thepipes. Hiss and hiss and then flow soundlessly, filling the cabin andhis lungs. He choked.     The cabin was like a mine shaft, dark and cold. Feet pounded on thedeck outside.     Shano clawed open the door. He peered out anxiously.     Cold blobs of light, phosphorescent bulbs held in the fists of men,glimmered by. Phosphorescent bulbs, because the power was off. Shanoblinked. He saw officers and men, their faces tight and pinched,hurrying in all directions. Hurrying to shut down the ship.     He acted impulsively. A young ensign strode by, drawn blaster in hand.Shano followed him; followed the bluish glow of his bulb, throughlabyrinthine passages and down a companionway, coughing and leeringagainst the pain in his joints. The blue light winked out in thedistance and Shano stopped.     He was suddenly alarmed. The captain had warned him to stay in hiscabin. He looked back and forth, wondering how to return.     A bell clanged.     Shano saw a cold bulb glowing down the passageway, and he shuffledhopefully toward it. The bulb moved away. He saw an indistinct figuredisappear through a door marked, ENGINE ROOM.     Shano paused uncertainly at the end of the passageway. A thick clusterof vertical pipes filled the corner. He peered at the pipes and saw agray box snuggled behind them. It had two toggle switches and a radiumdial that quivered delicately.     Shano scratched his scalp as boots pounded on the decks, aboveand below. He listened attentively to the ship's familiar noisesdiminishing one by one. And finally even the pounding of feet died out;everything became still. The silence shrieked in his ears.  <doc-sep>Captain Menthlo, a silver-mustached Jupiterian, broad, huge, yetcrushable as a beetle, talked while his hands manipulated a panel ofstuds in the control room. The pilot, his back encased in leather, satin a bucket seat before him, listening into earphones.     Surprised to learn of a passenger aboard, the captain said, glancingbriefly sideways. You're entitled to know of the danger ahead. Heflicked a final stud, spoke to the pilot and at last turned a serious,squared face to Shano. Old man, he said. There's a Uranian fleet outthere. We don't know how many ships in this sector. Flight twenty-one,which just landed, had a skirmish with one, and got away. We may not beso lucky. You know how these Uranian devils are.     Shano coughed, and wiped his mouth. Dirty devils, he said. I wasdriv' off the planet once, before this war started. I know thingsabout them Uranian devils. Heard them in the mines around. Hearsthings, a laborer does.     The captain seemed for the first time to realize the social status ofhis lone passenger, and he became a little gruff.     Want you to sign this waiver, saying you're traveling at your ownrisk. We'll expect you to keep to your cabin as much as possible.When the trouble comes we can't bother with a passenger. In a fewhours we'll shut down the ship entirely, and every mechanical deviceaboard, to try to avoid detection. His mustaches rose like two spearsfrom each side of his squared nose as his face changed to an alertwatchfulness. Going home, eh? he said. You've knocked around some,by the looks of you. Pluto, from the sound of that cough.     Shano scrawled his signature on the waiver. Yeah, he said. Pluto.Where a man's lungs fights gas. He blinked watery eyes. Captain,what's a notched jaw mean to you?     Well, old man, the captain grasped Shano's shoulder and turned himaround. It means somebody cut himself, shaving. You stick tight toyour cabin. He nodded curtly and indicated the door.     Descending the companionway to the next deck Shano observed thenick-jawed lieutenant staring out the viewport, apparently idling. Theman turned and gripped Shano's thin arm.     A light? he said, tapping a cigarette. Shano produced a lighterdisk and the chunky man puffed. He was an Earthman and his jaw seemedcut with a knife, notched like a piece of wood. Across the breast ofhis tunic was a purple band, with the name      Rourke     . Why are you soanxious to get aboard, old man? He searched Shano's face. There'strouble ahead, you know.     Shano coughed, wracking his body, as forgotten memories stirredsluggishly in his mind. Yup, he said, and jerked free and stumbleddown the steel deck.     In his cabin he lay on the bunk, lighted a cigarette and smoked,coughing and staring at the rivet-studded bulkhead. The slow movementof his mind resolved into a struggle, one idea groping for the other.     What were the things he'd heard about nicked jaws? And where hadhe heard them? Digging ore on Pluto; talk in the pits? Secretivesuspicions voiced in smoke-laden saloons of Mars? In the labor gangs ofUranus? Where? Shano smoked and didn't know. But he knew there was arumor, and that it was the talk of ignorant men. The captain had evadedit. Shano smoked and coughed and stared at the steel bulkhead andwaited.  <doc-sep>A scratchy sound issued from the disk. Pardon my laughter, Hoshicksaid, but surely you jest?     As a matter of fact, said Retief, we ourselves seldom use weapons.     I seem to recall that our first contact of skirmishforms involved theuse of a weapon by one of your units.     My apologies, said Retief. The—ah—the skirmishform failed torecognize that he was dealing with a sportsman.     Still, now that we have commenced so merrily with weapons.... Hoshicksignaled and the servant refilled tubes.     There is an aspect I haven't yet mentioned, Retief went on. I hopeyou won't take this personally, but the fact is, our skirmishformsthink of weapons as something one employs only in dealing with certainspecific life-forms.     Oh? Curious. What forms are those?     Vermin. Or 'varmints' as some call them. Deadly antagonists, butlacking in caste. I don't want our skirmishforms thinking of suchworthy adversaries as yourself as varmints.     Dear me! I hadn't realized, of course. Most considerate of you topoint it out. Hoshick clucked in dismay. I see that skirmishforms aremuch the same among you as with us: lacking in perception. He laughedscratchily. Imagine considering us as—what was the word?—varmints.     Which brings us to the crux of the matter. You see, we're up againsta serious problem with regard to skirmishforms. A low birth rate.Therefore we've reluctantly taken to substitutes for the mass actionsso dear to the heart of the sportsman. We've attempted to put an end tothese contests altogether....     Hoshick coughed explosively, sending a spray of wine into the air.What are you saying? he gasped. Are you proposing that Hoshick ofthe Mosaic of the Two Dawns abandon honor....?     Sir! said Retief sternly. You forget yourself. I, Retief of the RedTape Mountain, make an alternate proposal more in keeping with thenewest sporting principles.     New? cried Hoshick. My dear Retief, what a pleasant surprise! I'menthralled with novel modes. One gets so out of touch. Do elaborate.     It's quite simple, really. Each side selects a representative and thetwo individuals settle the issue between them.     I ... um ... fear I don't understand. What possible significance couldone attach to the activities of a couple of random skirmishforms?     I haven't made myself clear, said Retief. He took a sip of wine. Wedon't involve the skirmishforms at all. That's quite passe.     You don't mean...?     That's right. You and me.  <doc-sep>They wouldn't even know, he told himself, squirming through theemergency exit into the engine room, and sealing it after him. And theywouldn't understand if they did. Pink mist swirled about him. Toxiagas. Shano coughed.     He squinted around at the massive, incomprehensible machinery. The gutsof the space ship.     Then he saw the shattered, gold-gleaming cylinder, gas hissing froma fine nozzle, and filaments glowing bluish inside it, still workingaway. He saw five heavy Carrsteel rods hanging useless, on melted-downpins, and the slots their pronged ends hooked into. He looked at hishands, and shook his head.     One try, he said to himself. One try, Shano. One important thing inyour life. Here's your opportunity. The toxia gas will get you. It'llkill you at this concentration. But you'll last for maybe twelve hours.Another man wouldn't last a minute. Another man's lungs aren't cloggedwith Juno gum.     He grasped a rod and lifted it, sweating under the weight, and slippedthe forked end into its slot. Going home to die, he thought. Well,maybe not going home. Couldn't remember what Earth looked like anyway.     What was that again? Oh yeah—just lift them up, and when they dropoff, lift them up again.     Shano coughed, and lifted the heavy rods into position. One jerked backsuddenly and smoothly, and something went, Pop, pop, behind him andmachinery whirred. He lifted the rod and slipped it back on. Anotherjerked, pulled open a large valve, and dropped off. Shano bent, andlifted, coughing and coughing. He forgot what he was doing, mind blankthe way it went when he worked. Just rhythmically fell into the job,the way a laborer does. He waited for a rod to slip and fall, thenlifted it up and slipped it in place, skin sweating, joints shootingpain along his limbs. He heard the machinery working. He heard thehigh, howling whine of cosmic jets. He, Shano, was making the machinerygo. He was running the cosmic drive.     A bell clanged somewhere. Engine room! Engine room! We're under way!What happened?     Silence, while Shano coughed and made the machinery go, thinking aboutthe Earth he hadn't seen for many years.     Captain! the speaker bawled. There's a man in there! Working thevalve rods! Somebody is in the engine room and the gas isn't....     Shano grinned, feeling good. Feeling happy. Lifting the heavy steelrods, driving the ship. Keeping the jets screaming and hurtling theliner      Stardust     toward Venus. He wondered if they'd found Rourke yet.If he could keep going for twelve hours they would get to Venus. Afterthat....     Home, he coughed. Hell! Who wants to go home?     He plucked at his agitated chest, thinking of a whole damn Uranianfleet swooping down on a spot in space, expecting to find a crippledship there with a spy inside it. And finding nothing. Because of Shano.A useless old man.     Coughing came out all mixed up with laughing.   <doc-sep>A tremendous grinding sounded amid-ships. Loud rending noises ofprotesting metal. The ship bucked like a hooked fish. Then it wasstill. An empty clank echoed through the hull. The captain's voicecame, almost yelling. Emergency! Emergency! Back to your posts. Engineroom—report! Engine room—     Shano picked himself off the deck, his mind muddled. He coughed andput a cigarette to his lips, flicking a lighter disk jerkily from hispocket. He blew smoke from his nostrils and heard the renewed poundingof feet. What was going on now?     Engine room! Your screen is dead! Switch onto loud-speaker system.Engine room!     Giddily, Shano heard clicks and rasps and then a thick voice, atommotors whirring in the background.     Selector's gone, sir. Direct hit. Heat ray through the deck plates.We've sealed the tear. Might repair selector in five hours.     Shano coughed and sent a burst of smoke from his mouth.     Captain! A rasping, grating sound ensued from a grill above Shano'shead, then a disconnected voice. Get the men out of there. It'suseless. Hurry it up! A series of clicks and the heavy voice of thechief engineer. Captain! Somebody's smashed the selector chamber.Engine room's full of toxia gas!     Shano jumped. He prodded the body on the deck with his toe.     The      Stardust's     mechanical voice bellowed: Engine room! Itreproduced the captain's heavy breathing and his tired voice. We'reabout midway to Venus, it said. There were two ships and we drovethem off. But there may be others. They'll be coming back. They knowwe've been hit. We have to get away fast!     Shano could see the captain in his mind, worried, squared face slickwith moisture. Shouting into a control room mike. Trying to find outwhat the matter was with his space ship.     The engineer's answer came from the grill. Impossible, sir. Engineroom full of toxia gas. Not a suit aboard prepared to withstand it. Andwe have to keep it in there. Selector filaments won't function withoutthe gas. Our only chance was to put a man in the engine room to repairthe broken selector valve rods or keep them running by hand.     Blast it! roared the captain. No way of getting in there? Can't youby-pass the selector?     No. It's the heart of the new cosmic drive, sir. The fuels must passthrough selector valves before entering the tube chambers. Filamentswill operate so long as toxia gas is there to burn, and will keeptrying to open the valves and compensate for fluctuating enginetemperature. But the rod pins have melted down, sir—they're commontungsten steel—and when the rods pull a valve open, they slip off anddrop down, useless. It's a mess. If we could only get a man in therehe might lift up the dropped end of a rod and slip it into place eachtime it fell, and keep the valves working and feeding fuel.     The speaker spluttered and Shano smoked thoughtfully, listening to thetalk back and forth, between the captain and the engineer. He didn'tunderstand it, but knew that everything was ended. They were brokendown in space and would never make Earth. Those Uranian devils wouldcome streaking back. Catch them floating, helpless, and blast them tobits. And he would never get home to die.     Shano coughed, and cursed his lungs. Time was when these gum-cloggedlungs had saved his life. In the Plutonian mines. Gas explosions in thetunnels. Toxia gas, seeping in, burning the men's insides. But withgum-clogged lungs he'd been able to work himself clear. Just gettingsick where other men had died, their insides burned out.     Shano smoked and thought.  <doc-sep>Evelyn was extremely careful with her mental probe as she descendedfrom the transport. The Occupational Commandant would undoubtedlybe high-born and telepathic. He must not have occasion to suspect asimilar ability in a mere clerk.     Fighting had passed this way, too, and recently. Many of the buildingswere still smoking, and many of the radions high above were eithershot out or obscured by slowly drifting dust clouds. The acrid odor ofradiation-remover was everywhere.     She caught the sound of spasmodic small-arm fire.     What is that? she asked the transport attendant.     The Commandant is shooting prisoners, he replied laconically.     Oh.     Where did you want to go?     To the personnel office.     That way. He pointed to the largest building of the group—twostories high, reasonably intact.     She walked off down the gravel path, which was stained here and therewith dark sticky red. She gave her visa to the guard at the door andwas admitted to an improvised waiting room, where another guard eyedher stonily. The firing was much nearer. She recognized the obscenecoughs of a Faeg pistol and began to feel sick.     A woman in the green uniform of the Scythe auxiliary came in, whisperedsomething to the guard, and then told Evelyn to follow her.     In the anteroom a grey cat looked her over curiously, and Evelynfrowned. She might have to get rid of the cat if she stayed here. Undercertain circumstances the animal could prove her deadliest enemy.     The next room held a foppish little man, evidently a supervisor of somesort, who was studying her visa.     I'm very happy to have you here, S'ria—ah——he looked at the visasuspiciously—S'ria Lyn. Do sit down. But, as I was just remarking toS'ria Gerek, here—he nodded to the other woman, who smiled back—Iwish the field officers would make up their august minds as to whetherthey want you or don't want you. Just why did they transfer you toH.Q.?     She thought quickly. This pompous little ass would have to be givensome answer that would keep him from checking with the inquisitor. Itwould have to be something personal. She looked at the false black inhis eyebrows and sideburns, and the artificial way in which he hadcombed hair over his bald spot. She crossed her knees slowly, ignoringthe narrowing eyes of S'ria Gerek, and smoothed the back of her braidedyellow hair. He was studying her covertly.     The men in the fighting zones are uncouth, S'ria Gorph, she saidsimply. I was told that      you     , that is, I mean—     Yes? he was the soul of graciousness. S'ria Gerek began to dictateloudly into her mechanical transcriber.     Evelyn cleared her throat, averted her eyes, and with some effort,managed a delicate flush. I meant to say, I thought I would be happierworking for—working here. So I asked for a transfer.     S'ria Gorph beamed. Splendid. But the occupation isn't over, yet,you know. There'll be hard work here for several weeks yet, before wecut loose from the enemy globe. But you do your work well—winkingartfully—and I'll see that—     He stopped, and his face took on a hunted look of mingled fear andanxiety. He appeared to listen.     Evelyn tensed her mind to receive and deceive a mental probe. She wascertain now that the Zone Commandant was high-born and telepathic. Thechances were only fifty-fifty that she could delude him for any lengthof time if he became interested in her. He must be avoided if at allpossible. It should not be too difficult. He undoubtedly had a dozenpersonal secretaries and/or concubines and would take small interest inthe lowly employees that amused Gorph.     Gorph looked at her uncertainly. Perat, Viscount of the Tharn Suns,sends you his compliments and wishes to see you on the balcony. Hepointed to a hallway. All the way through there, across to the otherwing.     As she left, she heard all sound in the room stop. The transcribing andcalculating machines trailed off into a watchful silence, and she couldfeel the eyes of the men and women on her back. She noticed then thatthe Faeg had ceased firing.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What can be inferred about Shano's personality traits from his occupation and actions in the story SIGNAL RED?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What kind of gear is utilized in SIGNAL RED? [SEP] <s>  SIGNAL RED     By HENRY GUTH     They tried to stop him. Earth Flight 21 was a     suicide run, a coffin ship, they told him.     Uranian death lay athwart the space lanes. But     Shano already knew this was his last ride.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Mercurian night settled black and thick over the Q City Spaceport.Tentative fingers of light flicked and probed the sky, and winked out.     Here she comes, somebody in the line ahead said.     Shano coughed, his whole skeletal body jerking. Arthritic joints sentflashes of pain along his limbs. Here she comes, he thought, feelingneither glad nor sad.     He coughed and slipped polarized goggles over his eyes.     The spaceport emerged bathed in infra red. Hangars, cradles, freightercatapults and long runways stood out in sharp, diamond-clear detail.High up, beyond the cone of illumination, a detached triple row ofbright specks—portholes of the liner      Stardust     —sank slowly down.     There was no eagerness in him. Only a tiredness. A relief. Relief froma lifetime of beating around the planets. A life of digging, lifting,lugging and pounding. Like a work-worn Martian camel, he was going hometo die.     As though on oiled pistons the ship sank into the light, its longshark-like hull glowing soft and silvery, and settled with a featherysnuggle into the cradle's ribs.     The passenger line quivered as a loud-speaker boomed:           Stardust, now arrived at Cradle Six! Stardust, Cradle Six! Allpassengers for Venus and Earth prepare to board in ten minutes.          Shano coughed, and wiped phlegm from his thin lips, his hand followingaround the bony contours of his face, feeling the hollows and the beardstubble and loose skin of his neck. He coughed and thought of thevanium mines of Pluto, and his gum-clogged lungs. A vague, pressingdesire for home overwhelmed him. It had been so long.           Attention! Attention, Stardust passengers! The signal is red. Thesignal is red. Refunds now being made. Refunds now. Take-off in fiveminutes.          The man ahead swore and flicked up an arm. Red, he groaned. By theinfinite galaxies, this is the last straw! He charged away, knockingShano aside as he passed.       Red signal.     In bewildered anxiety Shano lifted the goggles from hiseyes and stared into the sudden blackness. The red signal. Danger outthere. Passengers advised to ground themselves, or travel at their ownrisk.     He felt the passengers bump and fumble past him, grumbling vexatiously.     A hot dread assailed him, and he coughed, plucking at his chest.Plucking at an urgency there.     Dropping the goggles to his rheumy eyes, he saw that the passenger linehad dissolved. He moved, shuffling, to the gate, thrust his ticket intothe scanner slot, and pushed through the turnstile when it clicked.           Flight twenty-one, now arriving from Venus     , the loud-speaker saidmonotonously. Shano glanced briefly upward and saw the gleaming bellyof twenty-one sinking into the spaceport cone of light.     He clawed his way up the gangway and thrust out his ticket to thelieutenant standing alone at the air lock. The lieutenant, a sullen,chunky man with a queer nick in his jawbone, refused the ticket.Haven't you heard, mister? Red signal. Go on back.     Shano coughed, and peered through the lenses of his goggles. Please,he said. Want to go home. I've a right. The nicked jaw stirred faintmemories within his glazed mind.     The lieutenant punched his ticket. It's your funeral, old man.     The loud-speaker blared.       Stardust, taking off in thirty seconds. Thesignal is red. Stardust, taking—          With the words dinning in his ears, Shano stepped into the air lock.The officer followed, spun wheels, and the lock closed. The outside wasshut off.     Lifting goggles they entered the hull, through a series of two morelocks, closing each behind them.     We're afloat, the officer said. We've taken off. A fleck of lightdanced far back in his eye. Shano felt the pressure of accelerationgradually increasing, increasing, and hurried in.  <doc-sep>I was just heaving the saddle up on Ninc when I felt a hand on myshoulder and I was swung around.     Well, well. Horst, look who we have here, he called. It was the onewho'd made the joke about me being beneath the notice of a Losel. Hewas alone with me now, but with that call the others would be up fast.     I brought the saddle around as hard as I could and then up, and hewent down. He started to get up again, so I dropped the saddle on himand reached inside my jacket for my gun. Somebody grabbed me then frombehind and pinned my arms to my side.     I opened my mouth to scream—I have a good scream—but a rough smellyhand clamped down over it before I had a chance to get more than alungful of air. I bit down hard—5000 lbs. psi, I'm told—but hedidn't let me go. I started to kick, but Horst jerked me off my feetand dragged me off.     When we were behind the pen and out of earshot of the fire, he stoppeddragging me and dropped me in a heap. Make any noise, he said, andI'll hurt you.     That was a silly way to put it, but somehow it said more than if he'dthreatened to break my arm or my head. It left him a latitude of thingsto do if he pleased. He examined his hand. There was enough moonlightfor that. I ought to club you anyway, he said.     The one I'd dropped the saddle on came up then. The others were puttingthe animals in the pen. He started to kick me, but Horst stopped him.     No, he said. Look through the kid's gear, bring the horse and whatwe can use.     The other one didn't move. Get going, Jack, Horst said in a menacingtone and they stood toe to toe for a long moment before Jack finallybacked down. It seemed to me that Horst wasn't so much objecting to mebeing kicked, but was rather establishing who did the kicking in hisbunch.     But I wasn't done yet. I was scared, but I still had the pistol undermy jacket.     Horst turned back to me and I said, You can't do this and get awaywith it.     He said, Look, boy. You may not know it, but you be in a lot oftrouble. So don't give me a hard time.     He still thought I was a boy. It was not time to correct him, but Ididn't like to see the point go unchallenged. It was unflattering.     The courts won't let you get away with this, I said. I'd passeda courthouse in the town with a carved motto over the doors: EQUALJUSTICE UNDER THE LAW or TRUTH OUR SHIELD AND JUSTICE OUR SWORD orsomething stuffy like that.     He laughed, not a phony, villian-type laugh, but a real laugh, so Iknew I'd goofed.     Boy, boy. Don't talk about the courts. I be doing you a favor. I betaking what I can use of your gear, but I be letting you go. You go tocourt and they'll take everything and lock you up besides. I be leavingyou your freedom.     Why would they be doing that? I asked. I slipped my hand under myjacket.     Every time you open your mouth you shout that you be off one of theShips, Horst said. That be enough. They already have one of you bratsin jail in Forton.     I was about to bring my gun out when up came Jack leading Ninc, withall my stuff loaded on. I mentally thanked him.     He said, The kid's got some good equipment. But I can't make out whatthis be for. He held out my pickup signal.     Horst looked at it, then handed it back. Throw it away, he said.     I leveled my gun at them—Hell on Wheels strikes again! I said, Handthat over to me.     Horst made a disgusted sound.     Don't make any noise, I said, or you'll fry. Now hand it over.     I stowed it away, then paused with one hand on the leather horn of thesaddle. What's the name of the kid in jail in Forton.     I can't remember, he said. But it be coming to me. Hold on.     I waited. Then suddenly my arm was hit a numbing blow from behindand the gun went flying. Jack pounced after it and Horst said, Goodenough, to the others who'd come up behind me.     I felt like a fool.     Horst stalked over and got the signal. He dropped it on the ground andsaid in a voice far colder than mine could ever be, because it wasnatural and mine wasn't, The piece be yours. Then he tromped on ituntil it cracked and fell apart.     Then he said, Pull a gun on me twice. Twice. He slapped me so hardthat my ears rang. You dirty little punk.     I said calmly, You big louse.     It was a time I would have done better to keep my mouth shut. All I canremember is a flash of pain as his fist crunched against the side of myface and then nothing.     Brains are no good if you don't use them.   <doc-sep>I didn't like the looks of the guy any more than the looks of theplace. I've been told you can supply me with a—     He coughed. Yes, yes. I understand. It might be possible. He fingeredhis mustache and regarded me from pouchy eyes. Busy executives oftencome to us to avoid the—ah—unpleasantness of formal arrangements.Naturally, we only act as agents, you might say. We never see themerchandise ourselves— He wiped his hands on his trousers. Now wereyou interested in the ordinary Utility model, Mr. Faircloth?     I assumed he was just being polite. You didn't come to the back doorfor Utility models.     Or perhaps you'd require one of our Deluxe models. Very carefulworkmanship. Only a few key Paralyzers in operation and practicallycomplete circuit duplication. Very useful for—ah—close contact work,you know. Social engagements, conferences—     I was shaking my head. I want a      Super     Deluxe model, I told him.     He grinned and winked. Ah, indeed! You want perfect duplication.Yes, indeed. Domestic situations can be—awkward, shall we say. Veryawkward—     I gave him a cold stare. I couldn't see where my domestic problems wereany affairs of his. He got the idea and hurried me back to a storeroom.     We keep a few blanks here for the basic measurement. You'll go to ourlaboratory on 14th Street to have the minute impressions taken. But Ican assure you you'll be delighted, simply delighted.     The blanks weren't very impressive—clay and putty and steel, faceless,brainless. He went over me like a tailor, checking measurements of allsorts. He was thorough—embarrassingly thorough, in fact—but finallyhe was finished. I went on to the laboratory.     And that was all there was to it.  <doc-sep>It wasn't the chance of not coming back that bothered me really,because I never believed that I wouldn't. The thought that made meunhappy was that I would have to be on a planet for a whole month.Planets make me feel wretched.     The gravity is always wrong, for one thing. Either your arches andcalves ache or every time you step you think you're going to trip ona piece of fluff and break your neck. There are vegetables everywhereand little grubby things just looking for      you     to crawl on. If youcan think of anything creepier than that, you've got a real nastyimagination. Worst of all, planets stink. Every single one smells—I'vebeen on enough to know that. A planet is all right for a Mud-eater, butnot for me.     We have a place in the Ship like that—the Third Level—but it's only athousand square miles and any time it gets on your nerves you can go upa level or down a level and be back in civilization.     When we reached Tintera, they started dropping us. We swung over thesea from the morning side and then dropped low over gray-green forestedhills. Finally George spotted a clear area and dropped into it. Theydon't care what order you go in, so Jimmy D. jumped up, grabbed hisgear and then led his horse down the ramp. I think he was stillsmarting from the slap I'd given him.     In a minute we were airborne again. I wondered if I would ever seeJimmy—if he would get back alive.     It's no game we play. When we turn fourteen, they drop us on thenearest colonized planet and come back one month later. That may soundlike fun to you, but a lot of us never come back alive.     Don't think I was helpless. I'm hell on wheels. They don't let us growfor fourteen years and then kick us out to die. They prepare us. Theydo figure, though, that if you can't keep yourself alive by the timeyou're fourteen, you're too stupid, foolish or unlucky to be any use tothe Ship. There's sense behind it. It means that everybody on the Shipis a person who can take care of himself if he has to. Daddy says thatsomething has to be done in a closed society to keep the populationfrom decaying mentally and physically, and this is it. And it helps tokeep the population steady.     I began to check my gear out—sonic pistol, pickup signal so I could befound at the end of the month, saddle and cinches, food and clothes.Venie Morlock has got a crush on Jimmy D., and when she saw me startgetting ready to go, she began to check her gear, too. At our nextlanding, I grabbed Ninc's reins and cut Venie out smoothly. It didn'thave anything to do with Jimmy. I just couldn't stand to put off thebad moment any longer.     The ship lifted impersonally away from Ninc and me like a rising bird,and in just a moment it was gone. Its gray-blue color was almost thecolor of the half-overcast sky, so I was never sure when I saw it last.      II     The first night was hell, I guess because I'm not used to having thelights out. That's when you really start to feel lonely, being alone inthe dark. When the sun disappears, somehow you wonder in your stomachif it's really going to come back. But I lived through it—one day inthirty gone.     I rode in a spiral search pattern during the next two days. I had threethings in mind—stay alive, find people and find some of the others.The first was automatic. The second was to find out if there was a slotI could fit into for a month. If not, I would have to find a place tocamp out, as nasty as that would be. The third was to join forces,though not with that meatball Jimmy D.     No, he isn't really a meatball. The trouble is that I don't takenothing from nobody, especially him, and he doesn't take nothing fromnobody, especially me. So we do a lot of fighting.     I had a good month for Trial. My birthday is in November—too close toYear End Holiday for my taste, but this year it was all right. It wasspring on Tintera, but it was December in the Ship, and after we gotback we had five days of Holiday to celebrate. It gave me something tolook forward to.     In two days of riding, I ran onto nothing but a few odd-lookinganimals. I shot one small one and ate it. It turned out to taste prettygood, though not as good as a slice from Hambone No. 4, to my mind thebest meat vat on the Ship. I've eaten things so gruey-looking that Iwondered that anybody had the guts to try them in the first place andthey've turned out to taste good. And I've seen things that looked goodthat I couldn't keep on my stomach. So I guess I was lucky.     On the third day, I found the road. I brought Ninc down off thehillside, losing sight of the road in the trees, and then reachingit in the level below. It was narrow and made of sand spread over ahard base. Out of the marks in the sand, I could pick out the tracksof horses and both narrow and wide wheels. Other tracks I couldn'tidentify.     One of the smartest moves in history was to include horses whenthey dropped the colonies. I say they because, while we did theactual dropping, the idea originated with the whole evac plan back onEarth. Considering how short a time it was in which the colonies wereestablished, there was not time to set up industry, so they had to havedraft animals.     The first of the Great Ships was finished in 2025. One of the eight,as well as the two that were being built then, went up with everythingelse in the Solar System in 2041. In that sixteen years 112 colonieswere planted. I don't know how many of those planets had animals that      could     have been substituted but, even if they had, they would havehad to be domesticated from scratch. That would have been stupid. I'llbet that half the colonies would have failed if they hadn't had horses.  <doc-sep>Rikud heard the throbbing again as he stood in the room of themachinery. For a long time he watched the wheels and cogs and gearsspinning and humming. He watched for he knew not how long. And then hebegan to wonder. If he destroyed the wheels and the cogs and the gears,would the buzzer stop? It probably would, because, as Rikud saw it, hewas clearly an unauthorized person. He had heard the voice againupon entering the room.     He found a metal rod, bright and shiny, three feet long and half aswide as his arm. He tugged at it and it came loose from the wires thatheld it in place. He hefted it carefully for a moment, and then heswung the bar into the mass of metal. Each time he heard a grinding,crashing sound. He looked as the gears and cogs and wheels crumbledunder his blows, shattered by the strength of his arm.       Almost casually he strode about the room, but his blows were notcasual. Soon his easy strides had given way to frenzied running. Rikudsmashed everything in sight.     When the lights winked out, he stopped. Anyway, by that time the roomwas a shambles of twisted, broken metal. He laughed, softly at first,but presently he was roaring, and the sound doubled and redoubled inhis ears because now the throbbing had stopped.     He opened the door and ran through the little corridor to the smallerviewport. Outside he could see the stars, and, dimly, the terrainbeneath them. But everything was so dark that only the stars shoneclearly. All else was bathed in a shadow of unreality.     Rikud never wanted to do anything more than he wanted to open thatdoor. But his hands trembled too much when he touched it, and once,when he pressed his face close against the viewport, there in thedarkness, something bright flashed briefly through the sky and was gone.     Whimpering, he fled.  <doc-sep>Never did, Retief said. You say most of the children are born aftera vintage. That would make them only twelve years old by the time—     Oh, that's Lovenbroy years; they'd be eighteen, Terry reckoning.     I was thinking you looked a little mature for twenty-eight, Retiefsaid.     Forty-two, Terry years, Arapoulous said. But this year it looks bad.We've got a bumper crop—and we're short-handed. If we don't get a bigvintage, Croanie steps in. Lord knows what they'll do to the land. Thennext vintage time, with them holding half our grape acreage—     You hocked the vineyards?     Yep. Pretty dumb, huh? But we figured twelve years was a long time.     On the whole, Retief said, I think I prefer the black. But the redis hard to beat....     What we figured was, maybe you Culture boys could help us out. A loanto see us through the vintage, enough to hire extra hands. Then we'drepay it in sculpture, painting, furniture—     Sorry, Hank. All we do here is work out itineraries for travelingside-shows, that kind of thing. Now, if you needed a troop of Groacinose-flute players—     Can they pick grapes?     Nope. Anyway, they can't stand the daylight. Have you talked this overwith the Labor Office?     Sure did. They said they'd fix us up with all the electronicsspecialists and computer programmers we wanted—but no field hands.Said it was what they classified as menial drudgery; you'd have thoughtI was trying to buy slaves.     The buzzer sounded. Miss Furkle's features appeared on the desk screen.     You're due at the Intergroup Council in five minutes, she said. Thenafterwards, there are the Bogan students to meet.     Thanks. Retief finished his glass, stood. I have to run, Hank, hesaid. Let me think this over. Maybe I can come up with something.Check with me day after tomorrow. And you'd better leave the bottleshere. Cultural exhibits, you know.      II     As the council meeting broke up, Retief caught the eye of a colleagueacross the table.     Mr. Whaffle, you mentioned a shipment going to a place called Croanie.What are they getting?     Whaffle blinked. You're the fellow who's filling in for Magnan, overat MUDDLE, he said. Properly speaking, equipment grants are thesole concern of the Motorized Equipment Depot, Division of Loans andExchanges. He pursed his lips. However, I suppose there's no harm intelling you. They'll be receiving heavy mining equipment.     Drill rigs, that sort of thing?     Strip mining gear. Whaffle took a slip of paper from a breast pocket,blinked at it. Bolo Model WV/1 tractors, to be specific. Why is MUDDLEinterested in MEDDLE's activities?     Forgive my curiosity, Mr. Whaffle. It's just that Croanie cropped upearlier today. It seems she holds a mortgage on some vineyards overon—     That's not MEDDLE's affair, sir, Whaffle cut in. I have sufficientproblems as Chief of MEDDLE without probing into MUDDLE'S business.     Speaking of tractors, another man put in, we over at the SpecialCommittee for Rehabilitation and Overhaul of Under-developed Nations'General Economies have been trying for months to get a request formining equipment for d'Land through MEDDLE—     SCROUNGE was late on the scene, Whaffle said. First come, firstserved. That's our policy at MEDDLE. Good day, gentlemen. He strodeoff, briefcase under his arm.     That's the trouble with peaceful worlds, the SCROUNGE committeemansaid. Boge is a troublemaker, so every agency in the Corps is outto pacify her. While my chance to make a record—that is, assistpeace-loving d'Land—comes to naught. He shook his head.     What kind of university do they have on d'Land? asked Retief. We'resending them two thousand exchange students. It must be quite aninstitution.     University? D'Land has one under-endowed technical college.     Will all the exchange students be studying at the Technical College?     Two thousand students? Hah! Two      hundred     students would overtax thefacilities of the college.     I wonder if the Bogans know that?     The Bogans? Why, most of d'Land's difficulties are due to the unwisetrade agreement she entered into with Boge. Two thousand studentsindeed! He snorted and walked away.  <doc-sep>The Ruler looked to his technicians for a signal, and nodded onreceiving it. You will tell an untruth now, he said. Are youstanding or sitting?     I am standing, Korvin said.     The technicians gave another signal. The Ruler looked, in his frowningmanner, reasonably satisfied. The machine, he announced, has beenadjusted satisfactorily to your physiology. The questioning will nowcontinue.     Korvin swallowed again. The test hadn't really seemed extensive enoughto him. But, after all, the Tr'en knew their business, better thananyone else could know it. They had the technique and the logic andthe training.     He hoped they were right.     The Ruler was frowning at him. Korvin did his best to look receptive.Why did you land your ship on this planet? the Ruler said.     My job required it, Korvin said.     The Ruler nodded. Your job is to crash your ship, he said. It iswasteful but the machines tell me it is true. Very well, then; weshall find out more about your job. Was the crash intentional?     Korvin looked sober. Yes, he said.     The Ruler blinked. Very well, he said. Was your job ended when theship crashed? The Tr'en word, of course, wasn't      ended     , nor did itmean exactly that. As nearly as Korvin could make out, it meantdisposed of for all time.     No, he said.     What else does your job entail? the Ruler said.     Korvin decided to throw his first spoke into the wheel. Stayingalive.     The Ruler roared. Do not waste time with the obvious! he shouted.Do not try to trick us; we are a logical and scientific race! Answercorrectly.     I have told the truth, Korvin said.     But it is not—not the truth we want, the Ruler said.     Korvin shrugged. I replied to your question, he said. I did notknow that there was more than one kind of truth. Surely the truth isthe truth, just as the Ruler is the Ruler?     I— The Ruler stopped himself in mid-roar. You try to confuse theRuler, he said at last, in an approximation of his usual one. Butthe Ruler will not be confused. We have experts in matters oflogic—the Tr'en word seemed to mean      right-saying     —who will advisethe Ruler. They will be called.     Korvin's guards were standing around doing nothing of importance nowthat their captor was strapped down in the lie-detector. The Rulergestured and they went out the door in a hurry.     The Ruler looked down at Korvin. You will find that you cannot trickus, he said. You will find that such fiddling—      chulad-like     Korvintranslated—attempts will get you nowhere.     Korvin devoutly hoped so.  <doc-sep>She had been seeing too many of the Terrestrial fictapes from thelibrary, Skkiru thought resentfully. There was too damn much Terraninfluence on this planet. And this new project was the last straw.     No longer able to control his rage and grief, he turned a triplesomersault in the air with rage. Then why was I made a beggar and shethe high priestess? You arranged that purposely, Bbulas. You—     Now, Skkiru, Bbulas said wearily, for they had been through all thisbefore, you know that all the ranks and positions were distributedby impartial lot, except for mine, and, of course, such jobs as couldcarry over from the civilized into the primitive.     Bbulas breathed on the spectacles he was wearing, as contact lenseswere not considered backward enough for the kind of planet Snaddrawas now supposed to be, and attempted to wipe them dry on his robe.However, the thick, jewel-studded embroidery got in his way and so hewas forced to lift the robe and wipe all three of the lenses on thesmooth, soft, spun metal of his top underskirt.     After all, he went on speaking as he wiped, I have to be highpriest, since I organized this culture and am the only one herequalified to administer it. And, as the president himself concurred inthese arrangements, I hardly think you—a mere private citizen—havethe right to question them.     Just because you went to school in another solar system, Skkiru said,whirling with anger, you think you're so smart!     I won't deny that I do have educational and cultural advantageswhich were, unfortunately, not available to the general populace ofthis planet. However, even under the old system, I was always glad toutilize my superior attainments as Official Dilettante for the good ofall and now—     Sure, glad to have a chance to rig this whole setup so you could breakup things between Larhgan and me. You've had your eye on her for sometime.     Skkiru coiled his antennae at Bbulas, hoping the insult would provokehim into an unbecoming whirl, but the Dilettante remained calm. One ofthe chief outward signs of Terran-type training was self-control andBbulas had been thoroughly terranized.       I hate Terrestrials     , Skkiru said to himself.      I hate Terra.     Thequiver of anxiety had risen up his leg and was coiling and uncoilingin his stomach. He hoped it wouldn't reach his antennae—if he wereto break down and psonk in front of Larhgan, it would be the finalhumiliation.     Skkiru! the girl exclaimed, rotating gently, for she, like herfiance—her erstwhile fiance, that was, for the new regime had causedall such ties to be severed—and every other literate person on theplanet, had received her education at the local university. Althoughsound, the school was admittedly provincial in outlook and very poorin the emotional department. One would almost think that the lots hadsome sort of divine intelligence behind them, because you certainly arebehaving in a beggarly manner!     And I have already explained to you, Skkiru, Bbulas said, with apatience much more infuriating than the girl's anger, that I had noidea of who was to become my high priestess. The lots chose Larhgan. Itis, as the Earthmen say, kismet.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What kind of gear is utilized in SIGNAL RED?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the backdrop of the story SIGNAL RED? [SEP] <s>  SIGNAL RED     By HENRY GUTH     They tried to stop him. Earth Flight 21 was a     suicide run, a coffin ship, they told him.     Uranian death lay athwart the space lanes. But     Shano already knew this was his last ride.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Mercurian night settled black and thick over the Q City Spaceport.Tentative fingers of light flicked and probed the sky, and winked out.     Here she comes, somebody in the line ahead said.     Shano coughed, his whole skeletal body jerking. Arthritic joints sentflashes of pain along his limbs. Here she comes, he thought, feelingneither glad nor sad.     He coughed and slipped polarized goggles over his eyes.     The spaceport emerged bathed in infra red. Hangars, cradles, freightercatapults and long runways stood out in sharp, diamond-clear detail.High up, beyond the cone of illumination, a detached triple row ofbright specks—portholes of the liner      Stardust     —sank slowly down.     There was no eagerness in him. Only a tiredness. A relief. Relief froma lifetime of beating around the planets. A life of digging, lifting,lugging and pounding. Like a work-worn Martian camel, he was going hometo die.     As though on oiled pistons the ship sank into the light, its longshark-like hull glowing soft and silvery, and settled with a featherysnuggle into the cradle's ribs.     The passenger line quivered as a loud-speaker boomed:           Stardust, now arrived at Cradle Six! Stardust, Cradle Six! Allpassengers for Venus and Earth prepare to board in ten minutes.          Shano coughed, and wiped phlegm from his thin lips, his hand followingaround the bony contours of his face, feeling the hollows and the beardstubble and loose skin of his neck. He coughed and thought of thevanium mines of Pluto, and his gum-clogged lungs. A vague, pressingdesire for home overwhelmed him. It had been so long.           Attention! Attention, Stardust passengers! The signal is red. Thesignal is red. Refunds now being made. Refunds now. Take-off in fiveminutes.          The man ahead swore and flicked up an arm. Red, he groaned. By theinfinite galaxies, this is the last straw! He charged away, knockingShano aside as he passed.       Red signal.     In bewildered anxiety Shano lifted the goggles from hiseyes and stared into the sudden blackness. The red signal. Danger outthere. Passengers advised to ground themselves, or travel at their ownrisk.     He felt the passengers bump and fumble past him, grumbling vexatiously.     A hot dread assailed him, and he coughed, plucking at his chest.Plucking at an urgency there.     Dropping the goggles to his rheumy eyes, he saw that the passenger linehad dissolved. He moved, shuffling, to the gate, thrust his ticket intothe scanner slot, and pushed through the turnstile when it clicked.           Flight twenty-one, now arriving from Venus     , the loud-speaker saidmonotonously. Shano glanced briefly upward and saw the gleaming bellyof twenty-one sinking into the spaceport cone of light.     He clawed his way up the gangway and thrust out his ticket to thelieutenant standing alone at the air lock. The lieutenant, a sullen,chunky man with a queer nick in his jawbone, refused the ticket.Haven't you heard, mister? Red signal. Go on back.     Shano coughed, and peered through the lenses of his goggles. Please,he said. Want to go home. I've a right. The nicked jaw stirred faintmemories within his glazed mind.     The lieutenant punched his ticket. It's your funeral, old man.     The loud-speaker blared.       Stardust, taking off in thirty seconds. Thesignal is red. Stardust, taking—          With the words dinning in his ears, Shano stepped into the air lock.The officer followed, spun wheels, and the lock closed. The outside wasshut off.     Lifting goggles they entered the hull, through a series of two morelocks, closing each behind them.     We're afloat, the officer said. We've taken off. A fleck of lightdanced far back in his eye. Shano felt the pressure of accelerationgradually increasing, increasing, and hurried in.  <doc-sep>  THE GIANTS RETURN     By ROBERT ABERNATHY     Earth set itself grimly to meet them with     corrosive fire, determined to blast them     back to the stars. But they erred in thinking     the Old Ones were too big to be clever.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      In the last hours the star ahead had grown brighter by many magnitudes,and had changed its color from a dazzling blue through white to thenormal yellow, of a GO sun. That was the Doppler effect as the star'sradial velocity changed relative to the      Quest III     , as for forty hoursthe ship had decelerated.     They had seen many such stars come near out of the galaxy's glitteringbackdrop, and had seen them dwindle, turn red and go out as the      QuestIII     drove on its way once more, lashed by despair toward the speed oflight, leaving behind the mockery of yet another solitary and lifelessluminary unaccompanied by worlds where men might dwell. They had grownsated with the sight of wonders—of multiple systems of giant stars, ofnebulae that sprawled in empty flame across light years.     But now unwonted excitement possessed the hundred-odd members of the      Quest III's     crew. It was a subdued excitement; men and women, theycame and stood quietly gazing into the big vision screens that showedthe oncoming star, and there were wide-eyed children who had been bornin the ship and had never seen a planet. The grownups talked in lowvoices, in tones of mingled eagerness and apprehension, of what mightlie at the long journey's end. For the      Quest III     was coming home; thesun ahead was      the     Sun, whose rays had warmed their lives' beginning.  <doc-sep>In the evening a girl brought Maitland his meal. As the door slidaside, he automatically stood up, and they stared at each other forseveral seconds.     She had the high cheekbones and almond eyes of an Oriental, skin thatglowed like gold in the evening light, yet thick coiled braids ofblonde hair that glittered like polished brass. Shorts and a sleevelessblouse of some thick, reddish, metallic-looking fabric clung to herbody, and over that she was wearing a light, ankle-length cloak of whatseemed to be white wool.     She was looking at him with palpable curiosity and something likeexpectancy. Maitland sighed and said, Hello, then glanced downself-consciously at his wrinkled green pajamas.       She smiled, put the tray of food on the table, and swept out, her cloakbillowing behind her. Maitland remained standing, staring at the closeddoor for a minute after she was gone.     Later, when he had finished the steak and corn on the cob and shreddedcarrots, and a feeling of warm well-being was diffusing from hisstomach to his extremities, he sat down on the bed to watch the sunsetand to think.     There were three questions for which he required answers before hecould formulate any plan or policy.     Where was he?     Who was Swarts?     What was the purpose of the tests he was being given?     It was possible, of course, that this was all an elaborate schemefor getting military secrets, despite Swarts' protestations to thecontrary. Maitland frowned. This place certainly didn't have theappearance of a military establishment, and so far there had beennothing to suggest the kind of interrogation to be expected fromforeign intelligence officers.     It might be better to tackle the first question first. He looked atthe Sun, a red spheroid already half below the horizon, and tried tothink of a region that had this kind of terrain. That prairie out therewas unique. Almost anywhere in the world, land like that would becultivated, not allowed to go to grass.     This might be somewhere in Africa....     He shook his head, puzzled. The Sun disappeared and its blood-huedglow began to fade from the sky. Maitland sat there, trying to gethold of the problem from an angle where it wouldn't just slip away.After a while the western sky became a screen of clear luminous blue,a backdrop for a pure white brilliant star. As always at that sight,Maitland felt his worry drain away, leaving an almost mystical sense ofpeace and an undefinable longing.     Venus, the most beautiful of the planets.     Maitland kept track of them all in their majestic paths through theconstellations, but Venus was his favorite. Time and time again hehad watched its steady climb higher and higher in the western sky,its transient rule there as evening star, its progression toward thehorizon, and loved it equally in its      alter ego     of morning star. Venuswas an old friend. An old friend....     Something icy settled on the back of his neck, ran down his spine, anddiffused into his body. He stared at the planet unbelievingly, fistsclenched, forgetting to breathe.     Last night Venus hadn't been there.     Venus was a morning star just now....       Just now!       He realized the truth in that moment.  <doc-sep>The first thing you learn in school is that if it weren't for idiot andcriminal people like these, Earth would never have been destroyed. Theevacuation would never have had to take place, and eight billion peoplewouldn't have died. There wouldn't have      been     eight billion people.But, no. They bred and they spread and they devoured everything intheir path like a cancer. They gobbled up all the resources that Earthhad and crowded and shoved one another until the final war came.     I am lucky. My great-great-grandparents were among those who had enoughforesight to see what was coming. If it hadn't been for them and someothers like them, there wouldn't be any humans left anywhere. And Iwouldn't be here. That may not scare you, but it scares me.     What happened before, when people didn't use their heads and wound upblowing the Solar System apart, is something nobody should forget. Theolder people don't let us forget. But these people had, and that theCouncil should know.     For the first time since I landed on Tintera, I felt      really     frightened. There was too much going on that I didn't understand. Ifelt a blind urge to get away, and when I reached the edge of town, Iwhomped Ninc a good one and gave him his head.     I let him run for almost a mile before I pulled him down to a walkagain. I couldn't help wishing for Jimmy D. Whatever else he is, he'ssmart and brains I needed.     How do you find out what's going on? Eavesdrop? That's a lousy method.For one thing, people can't be depended on to talk about the things youwant to hear. For another, you're likely to get caught. Ask somebody?Who? Make the mistake of bracing a fellow like Horst and you might windup with a sore head and an empty pocket. The best thing I could thinkof was to find a library, but that might be a job.     I'd had two bad shocks on this day, but they weren't the last. In thelate afternoon, when the sun was starting to sink and a cool wind wasstarting to ripple the tree leaves, I saw the scoutship high in thesky. The dying sun colored it a deep red. Back again? I wondered whathad gone wrong.     I reached down into my saddlebag and brought out my contact signal.The scoutship swung up in the sky in a familiar movement calculated todrop the stomach out of everybody aboard. George Fuhonin's style. Itriggered the signal, my heart turning flips all the while. I didn'tknow why he was back, but I wasn't really sorry.     The ship swung around until it was coming back on a path almost over myhead, going in the same direction. Then it went into a slip and startedbucking so hard that I knew this wasn't hot piloting at all, just plainidiot stutter-fingered stupidity at the controls. As it skidded by meoverhead, I got a good look at it and knew that it wasn't one of ours.Not too different, but not ours.       One more enigma. Where was it from? Not here. Even if you know how, andwe wouldn't tell these Mud-eaters how, a scoutship is something thattakes an advanced technology to build.  <doc-sep>Okay, threw back Star and the man appeared in the doorway, emptyhands held high. After a second, the other joined him.     Anne turned to Star. Now I know why they call you 'Death Star' Blade,she said, and gestured toward the men who had surrendered, and the twowhom Starrett had shot down.     He mused there for a minute. Then Anne broke the silence with, Star,what are we going to do now? Garrett's men will be up here in a littlewhile. We can't get to a sub-space beam. What are we going to do whenthey come up to investigate?     Starrett Blade laughed. Do? Well, we could turn them over to CommanderWeddel!           What?          Grinning broadly, Star pointed, with a flourish, at the door. Annespun about, and found Commander Weddel grinning in the door from thecorridor.     Very simple, said Star across the lounge to Anne. When I smashedthe vision set with that dinner fork, I broke a small unit which isincluded in all sets. You know, a direction finder doesn't work, exceptin the liner-beam principle, in space, because of the diffusing effectof unrestricted cosmic rays.     Yes, I knew that, said Anne. But how—     Starrett grinned again. A type of beam has been found which it isimpossible for cosmics to disturb. But you can't send messages onit, so it is made in a little unit on every set. If that unit isbroken, the set automatically releases a signal beam. This is adistress signal, and the location of the set that sent out the signalis recorded at the Section Headquarters. When Commander Weddel sawme throw something at the set, and it went dead, he looked at theautomatic record, and found out that a signal had been sent in froma location on Alpha Cen's third planet. Then he had a high-velocitycruiser brought out and dropped in, in time to pick up some pieces. Hestopped, and idly toyed with a sheaf of papers, then held them up. Seethese papers?     Uh-huh. What are they, Star?     They are the main plans of Devil Garrett's power plant, and they'rethe one good thing he's ever done. These plans are going to bring thebarren, rocky Centauri planets to life!     He got up, and paced to the window, and stood there, looking out, andup through the plastic port. The planets of Centauri! he murmuredsoftly. Seven circling Alpha alone. And all seven are barren, rocky,level except for the thousands of lakes ... lakes that are going to bethe life of Centauri!  <doc-sep>A scratchy sound issued from the disk. Pardon my laughter, Hoshicksaid, but surely you jest?     As a matter of fact, said Retief, we ourselves seldom use weapons.     I seem to recall that our first contact of skirmishforms involved theuse of a weapon by one of your units.     My apologies, said Retief. The—ah—the skirmishform failed torecognize that he was dealing with a sportsman.     Still, now that we have commenced so merrily with weapons.... Hoshicksignaled and the servant refilled tubes.     There is an aspect I haven't yet mentioned, Retief went on. I hopeyou won't take this personally, but the fact is, our skirmishformsthink of weapons as something one employs only in dealing with certainspecific life-forms.     Oh? Curious. What forms are those?     Vermin. Or 'varmints' as some call them. Deadly antagonists, butlacking in caste. I don't want our skirmishforms thinking of suchworthy adversaries as yourself as varmints.     Dear me! I hadn't realized, of course. Most considerate of you topoint it out. Hoshick clucked in dismay. I see that skirmishforms aremuch the same among you as with us: lacking in perception. He laughedscratchily. Imagine considering us as—what was the word?—varmints.     Which brings us to the crux of the matter. You see, we're up againsta serious problem with regard to skirmishforms. A low birth rate.Therefore we've reluctantly taken to substitutes for the mass actionsso dear to the heart of the sportsman. We've attempted to put an end tothese contests altogether....     Hoshick coughed explosively, sending a spray of wine into the air.What are you saying? he gasped. Are you proposing that Hoshick ofthe Mosaic of the Two Dawns abandon honor....?     Sir! said Retief sternly. You forget yourself. I, Retief of the RedTape Mountain, make an alternate proposal more in keeping with thenewest sporting principles.     New? cried Hoshick. My dear Retief, what a pleasant surprise! I'menthralled with novel modes. One gets so out of touch. Do elaborate.     It's quite simple, really. Each side selects a representative and thetwo individuals settle the issue between them.     I ... um ... fear I don't understand. What possible significance couldone attach to the activities of a couple of random skirmishforms?     I haven't made myself clear, said Retief. He took a sip of wine. Wedon't involve the skirmishforms at all. That's quite passe.     You don't mean...?     That's right. You and me.  <doc-sep>   The Sense of Wonder     By MILTON LESSER     Illustrated by HARRY ROSENBAUM     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      When nobody aboard ship remembers where it's     going, how can they tell when it has arrived?      Every day for a week now, Rikud had come to the viewport to watchthe great changeless sweep of space. He could not quite explain thefeelings within him; they were so alien, so unnatural. But ever sincethe engines somewhere in the rear of the world had changed their tone,from the steady whining Rikud had heard all twenty-five years of hislife, to the sullen roar that came to his ears now, the feelings hadgrown.     If anyone else had noticed the change, he failed to mention it. Thisdisturbed Rikud, although he could not tell why. And, because he hadrealized this odd difference in himself, he kept it locked up insidehim.     Today, space looked somehow different. The stars—it was a meaninglessconcept to Rikud, but that was what everyone called the brightpinpoints of light on the black backdrop in the viewport—were notapparent in the speckled profusion Rikud had always known. Instead,there was more of the blackness, and one very bright star set apartby itself in the middle of the viewport.     If he had understood the term, Rikud would have told himself this wasodd. His head ached with the half-born thought. It was—it was—whatwas it?     Someone was clomping up the companionway behind Rikud. He turned andgreeted gray-haired old Chuls.     In five more years, the older man chided, you'll be ready to sirechildren. And all you can do in the meantime is gaze out at the stars.     Rikud knew he should be exercising now, or bathing in the rays of thehealth-lamps. It had never occurred to him that he didn't feel like it;he just didn't, without comprehending.     Chuls' reminder fostered uneasiness. Often Rikud had dreamed of thetime he would be thirty and a father. Whom would the Calculator selectas his mate? The first time this idea had occurred to him, Rikudignored it. But it came again, and each time it left him with a feelinghe could not explain. Why should he think thoughts that no other manhad? Why should he think he was thinking such thoughts, when it alwaysembroiled him in a hopeless, infinite confusion that left him with aheadache?     Chuls said, It is time for my bath in the health-rays. I saw you hereand knew it was your time, too....     His voice trailed off. Rikud knew that something which he could notexplain had entered the elder man's head for a moment, but it haddeparted almost before Chuls knew of its existence.     I'll go with you, Rikud told him.  <doc-sep>A tall man, clad in a claw-hammer coat, came out from the wings andadvanced to the footlights.     People of Swamp City, he said, bowing, permit me to introducemyself. I am Doctor Universe, and these are my nine experts.     There was a roar of applause from the      Satellite     audience. When it hadsubsided, the man continued:     As most of you are familiar with our program, it will be unnecessaryto give any advance explanation. I will only say that on this stage arenine visi sets, each tuned to one of the nine planets. At transmittingsets all over these planets listeners will appear and voice questions.These questions, my nine experts will endeavor to answer. For everyquestion missed, the sender will receive a check for one thousand      planetoles     .     One thing more. As usual we have with us a guest star who will matchher wits with the experts. May I present that renowned writer ofscience fiction, Annabella C. Flowers.     From the left wing Grannie Annie appeared. She bowed and took her placeon the dais.     The Doctor's program began. The operator of the Earth visi twisted hisdials and nodded. Blue light flickered on the pantascope panel tocoalesce slowly into the face of a red-haired man. Sharp and dear hisvoice echoed through the theater:           Who was the first Earthman to titter the sunward side of Mercury?          Doctor Universe nodded and turned to Grannie Annie who had raised herhand. She said quietly:     Charles Zanner in the year 2012. In a specially constructedtracto-car.     And so it went. Questions from Mars, from Earth, from Saturn flowed inthe visi sets. Isolated miners on Jupiter, dancers in swank Plutoniancafes strove to stump the experts. With Doctor Universe offeringbantering side play, the experts gave their answers. When they failed,or when the Truthicator flashed a red light, he announced the name ofthe winner.     It grew a little tiresome after a while and I wondered why Grannie hadbrought me here. And then I began to notice things.     The audience in the      Satellite     seemed to have lost much of itsoriginal fervor. They applauded as before but they did so only at thesignal of Doctor Universe. The spell created by the man was complete.     Pompous and erect, he strode back and forth across the stage like ageneral surveying his army. His black eyes gleamed, and his thin lipswere turned in a smile of satisfaction.     When the last question had been answered I joined the exit-movingcrowd. It was outside under the street marquee that a strange incidentoccurred.     A yellow-faced Kagor from the upper Martian desert country shuffled by,dragging his cumbersome third leg behind him. Kagors, of course, had anunpleasant history of persecution since the early colonization days ofthe Red Planet. But the thing that happened there was a throw back toan earlier era.     Someone shouted, Yah, yellow-face! Down with all Kagors! As oneman the crowd took up the cry and surged forward. The helpless Kagorwas seized and flung to the pavement. A knife appeared from nowhere,snipped the Martian's single lock of hair. A booted foot bludgeonedinto his mouth.     Moments later an official hydrocar roared up and a dozen I.P. menrushed out and scattered the crowd. But a few stragglers lingered toshout derisive epithets.     Grannie Annie came out from behind the box office then. She took my armand led me around a corner and through a doorway under a sign that readTHE JET. Inside was a deep room with booths along one wall. The placewas all but deserted.     In a booth well toward the rear the old lady surveyed me with sobereyes.     Billy-boy, did you see the way that crowd acted?     I nodded. As disgraceful an exhibition as I've ever seen. The I.P. menought to clamp down.     The I.P. men aren't strong enough.     She said it quietly, but there was a glitter in her eyes and a harshline about her usually smiling lips.     What do you mean?  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the backdrop of the story SIGNAL RED?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the storyline of THE FIRST MAN INTO SPACE? [SEP] <s>She looked down into the drink the bartender had placed before her,as though avoiding his face. I ... I suppose it was that speechDoctor Girard-Perregaux made. There you stood, so fine and straight inyour space-pilot uniform, the veteran of six exploration runs to theplanets....     Well, Si said modestly, two of my runs were only to the Moon.     ... and he said all those things about man's conquest of space. Andthe dream of the stars which man has held so long. And then the factthat you were the last of the space pilots. The last man in the wholeworld trained to pilot a space craft. And here you were, retiring.     Si grunted. Yeah. That's all part of the Doc's scheme to get me totake on another three runs. They're afraid the whole department'll bedropped by the Appropriations Committee on this here Economic PlanningBoard. Even if they can find some other patsy to train for the job,it'd take maybe a year before you could even send him on a Moon hop.So old man Gubelin, and Girard-Perregaux too, they're both trying topressure me into more trips. Otherwise they got a Space ExplorationDepartment, with all the expense and all, but nobody to pilot theirships. It's kind of funny, in a way. You know what one of thosespaceships costs?     Funny? she said. Why, I don't think it's funny at all.     Si said, Look, how about another drink?     Natalie Paskov said, Oh, I'd love to have a drink with you, Mr....       Si, Si said. He motioned to the bartender with a circular twist ofthe hand indicating their need for two more of the same. How come youknow so much about it? You don't meet many people who are interestedin space any more. In fact, most people are almost contemptuous, like.Think it's kind of a big boondoggle deal to help use up a lot ofmaterials and all and keep the economy going.     Natalie said earnestly, Why, I've been a space fan all my life. I'veread all about it. Have always known the names of all the space pilotsand everything about them, ever since I was a child. I suppose you'dsay I have the dream that Doctor Girard-Perregaux spoke about.     Si chuckled. A real buff, eh? You know, it's kind of funny. I wasnever much interested in it. And I got a darn sight less interestedafter my first run and I found out what space cafard was.     She frowned. I don't believe I know much about that.     Sitting in the Kudos Room with the most beautiful girl to whom he hadever talked, Si could be nonchalant about the subject. Old Gubelinkeeps that angle mostly hushed up and out of the magazine and newspaperarticles. Says there's enough adverse publicity about space explorationalready. But at this stage of the game when the whole ship's crammedtight with this automatic scientific apparatus and all, there'sprecious little room in the conning tower and you're the only manaboard. The Doc says later on when ships are bigger and there's a wholeflock of people aboard, there won't be any such thing as space cafard,but.... Of a sudden the right side of Si Pond's mouth began to ticand he hurriedly took up his drink and knocked it back.    <doc-sep>The girls set up a shout and threw stones down at the centaurs, whoreared, pawed the air, and galloped to a safe distance, from which theyhurled back insults in a strange tongue. Their voices sounded faintlylike the neighing of horses.     Amazons and centaurs, he thought again. He couldn't get the problemof the girls' phenomenal strength out of his mind. Then it occurredto him that the asteroid, most likely, was smaller even than Earth'smoon. He must weigh about a thirtieth of what he usually did, due tothe lessened gravity. It also occurred to him that they would be thirtytimes as strong. He was staggered. He wished he had a smoke.     At length, the amazons and the centaurs tired of bandying insultsback and forth. The centaurs galloped off into the prairie, the girlsresumed their march. Jonathan scrambled up hills, skidded down slopes.The brunette was beside him helping him over the rough spots.     I'm Olga, she confided. Has anybody ever told you what a handsomefellow you are? She pinched his cheek. Jonathan blushed.     They climbed a ridge, paused at the crest. Below them, he saw a deepvalley. A stream tumbled through the center of it. There were treesalong its banks, the first he had seen on the asteroid. At the head ofthe valley, he made out the massive pile of a space liner.     They started down a winding path. The space liner disappeared behinda promontory of the mountain. Jonathan steeled himself for the comingordeal. He would have sat down and refused to budge except that he knewthe girls would hoist him on their shoulders and bear him into the camplike a bag of meal.     The trail debouched into the valley. Just ahead the space linerreappeared. He imagined that it had crashed into the mountain, skiddedand rolled down its side until it lodged beside the stream. It remindedhim of a wounded dinosaur. Three girls were bathing in the stream. Helooked away hastily.     Someone hailed them from the space ship.     We've caught a man, shrieked one of his captors.     A flock of girls streamed out of the wrecked space ship.     A man! screamed a husky blonde. She was wearing a grass skirt. Shehad green eyes. We're rescued!     No. No, Ann Clotilde hastened to explain. He was wrecked like us.     Oh, came a disappointed chorus.     He's a man, said the green-eyed blonde. That's the next best thing.     Oh, Olga, said a strapping brunette. Who'd ever thought a man couldlook so good?     I did, said Olga. She chucked Jonathan under the chin. He shiveredlike an unbroken colt when the bit first goes in its mouth. He feltlike a mouse hemmed in by a ring of cats.     A big rawboned brute of a girl strolled into the circle. She said,Dinner's ready. Her voice was loud, strident. It reminded him ofthe voices of girls in the honky tonks on Venus. She looked at himappraisingly as if he were a horse she was about to bid on. Bring himinto the ship, she said. The man must be starved.     He was propelled jubilantly into the palatial dining salon of thewrecked liner. A long polished meturilium table occupied the center ofthe floor. Automatic weight distributing chairs stood around it. Hisfeet sank into a green fiberon carpet. He had stepped back into theThirty-fourth Century from the fabulous barbarian past.     With a sigh of relief, he started to sit down. A lithe red-head sprangforward and held his chair. They all waited politely for him to beseated before they took their places. He felt silly. He felt likea captive princess. All the confidence engendered by the familiarsettings of the space ship went out of him like wind. He, JonathanFawkes, was a castaway on an asteroid inhabited by twenty-seven wildwomen.  <doc-sep>   GALACTIC GHOST     By WALTER KUBILIUS     The Flying Dutchman of space was a harbinger     of death. But Willard wasn't superstitions.     He had seen the phantom—and lived.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Winter 1942.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The only friend in space Willard had ever known was dying. Dobbin'slips were parched and his breath came spasmodically. The tips of hisfingers that had so many times caressed the control board of the      MaryLou     were now black as meteor dust.     We'll never see Earth again, he whispered feebly, plucked weakly atthe cover.     Nonsense! Willard broke in hurriedly, hoping that the dying manwould not see through the lie. We've got the sun's gravity helpingus drift back to Earth! We'll be there soon! You'll get well soon andwe'll start to work again on a new idea of mine.... His voice trailedhelplessly away and the words were lost. It was no use.     The sick man did not hear him. Two tears rolled down his cheeks. Hisface contorted as he tried to withhold a sob.     To see Earth again! he said weakly. To walk on solid ground oncemore!     Four years! Willard echoed faintly. He knew how his space mate felt.No man can spend four years away from his home planet, and fail to beanguished. A man could live without friends, without fortune, but noman could live without Earth. He was like Anteus, for only the feel ofthe solid ground under his feet could give him courage to go among thestars.     Willard also knew what he dared not admit to himself. He, too, likeDobbin, would never see Earth again. Perhaps, some thousand years fromnow, some lonely wanderers would find their battered hulk of a ship inspace and bring them home again.     Dobbin motioned to him and, in answer to a last request, Willard liftedhim so he faced the port window for a final look at the panorama of thestars.     Dobbin's eyes, dimming and half closed, took in the vast play of theheavens and in his mind he relived the days when in a frail craft hefirst crossed interstellar space. But for Earth-loneliness Dobbin woulddie a happy man, knowing that he had lived as much and as deeply as anyman could.     Silently the two men watched. Dobbin's eyes opened suddenly and atremor seized his body. He turned painfully and looked at Willard.     I saw it! his voice cracked, trembling.     Saw what?     It's true! It's true! It comes whenever a space man dies! It's there!     In heaven's name, Dobbin, Willard demanded, What do you see? What isit?     Dobbin lifted his dark bony arm and pointed out into star-studdedspace.     The Ghost Ship!     Something clicked in Willard's memory. He had heard it spoken of inwhispers by drunken space men and professional tellers of fairy tales.But he had never put any stock in them. In some forgotten corner ofDobbin's mind the legend of the Ghost Ship must have lain, to come upin this time of delirium.     There's nothing there, he said firmly.     It's come—for me! Dobbin cried. He turned his head slowly towardWillard, tried to say something and then fell back upon the pillow. Hismouth was open and his eyes stared unseeing ahead. Dobbin was now onewith the vanished pioneers of yesterday. Willard was alone.     For two days, reckoned in Earth time, Willard kept vigil over the bodyof his friend and space mate. When the time was up he did what wasnecessary and nothing remained of Harry Dobbin, the best friend he hadever had. The atoms of his body were now pure energy stored away in theuseless motors of the      Mary Lou     .  <doc-sep>  Jon  followed him through the sunderedlock of the station. Karyl stopped for amoment to examine the wreckage of thelock. It had been punched full of holes asif it had been some soft cheese instead of ametal which Earthmen had spent nearly acentury perfecting.     We appreciate your compliment, Steel-Bluesaid. But that metal also is found onour world. It's probably the softest and mostmalleable we have. We were surprised you—earthmen,is it?—use it as protectivemetal.     Why are you in this system? Jon asked,hardly expecting an answer.     It came anyway. For the same reason youEarthmen are reaching out farther into yoursystem. We need living room. You havestrategically placed planets for our use. Wewill use them.     Jon sighed. For 400 years scientists hadbeen preaching preparedness as Earth flungher ships into the reaches of the solar system,taking the first long step toward theconquest of space.     There are other races somewhere, theyargued. As strong and smart as man, manyof them so transcending man in mental andinventive power that we must be prepared tostrike the minute danger shows.     Now here was the answer to the scientists'warning. Invasion by extra-terrestrials.     What did you say? asked Steel-Blue.I couldn't understand.     Just thinking to myself, Jon answered.It was a welcome surprise. Apparently histhoughts had to be directed outward, ratherthan inward, in order for the Steel-Blues toread it.     He followed the Steel-Blue into the gapinglock of the invaders' space ship wonderinghow he could warn Earth. The SpacePatrol cruiser was due in for refueling athis service station in 21 days. But by thattime he probably would be mouldering inthe rocky dust of the asteroid.     It was pitch dark within the ship but theSteel-Blue seemed to have no trouble at allmaneuvering through the maze of corridors.Jon followed him, attached to one tentacle.     Finally Jon and his guide entered a circularroom, bright with light streaming froma glass-like, bulging skylight. They apparentlywere near topside of the vessel.     A Steel-Blue, more massive than hisguide and with four more pair of tentacles,including two short ones that grew from thetop of its head, spoke out.     This is the violator? Jon's Steel-Bluenodded.     You know the penalty? Carry it out.     He also is an inhabitant of this system,Jon's guide added.     Examine him first, then give him thedeath.     Jon Karyl shrugged as he was led fromthe lighted room through more corridors.If it got too bad he still had the stubraypistol.     Anyway, he was curious. He'd taken onthe lonely, nerve-wracking job of servicestation attendant just to see what it offered.     Here was a part of it, and it was certainlysomething new.     This is the examination room, hisSteel-Blue said, almost contemptuously.     A green effulgence surrounded him.   <doc-sep>They watched the parabola it made in its trajectory as it flashed intospace and then fell into orbit there beyond the planetary attraction ofVenus. On the three-dimensional viso-screen it was uncannily real.     A flight that had taken many hours to accomplish, was shortened onthe viso-screen to a matter of minutes. They saw the great, proudinterplanetary transport speeding majestically through the starry void,and suddenly, they saw her swerve in a great arc; again she swervedas if avoiding something deadly in space, and point upwards gainingaltitude. It was zig-zagging now, desperately maneuvering in an erraticcourse, and as if by magic, a tiny spot appeared on the transport'sside.     Tiny on the viso-screen, the fatal spots must have been huge inactuality. To the Commander of the I.S.P., and to Captain Brooke, itwas an old story. Atom-blasts were pitting the spacer's hull withdeadly Genton shells. The great transport trembled under the impact ofthe barrage, and suddenly, the screen went blank.     Commander Bertram turned slowly to face the young I.S.P. captain, whosefeatures were a mask devoid of all expression now, save for the pallorand the burning fire in his eyes.     And that's the sixth one in a month. Sometimes the survivors reachTerra in emergency spacers, or are picked up in space by othertransports ... and sometimes son ... well, as you know, sometimesthey're never seen again.     When do I leave, Commander! Dennis Brooke's voice was like a javelinof ice.     Right now, if you wish. We have a new cruiser armored in beryloid withdouble hull—a new design against Genton shells, but it's the speedof the thing that you'll want to know about. It just about surpassesanything ever invented. Get the figures and data from the coordinationroom, son; it's serviced and fueled and the crew's aboard. Heextended his hand. You're the best spacer we have—aside from yourrecklessness—and on your success depends far more than the capture ofan outlaw. Bertram smiled thinly. Happy landing!      II     Their nerves were ragged. Days and days of fruitless search for aphantom ship that seemed to have vanished from space, and an equallyelusive pirate whose whereabouts were hidden in the depths offathomless space.     To all but Captain Brooke, this was a new adventure, their firstassignment to duty in a search that went beyond the realm of theinner planets, where men spent sleepless nights in eternal vigilanceagainst stray asteroids and outlaw crews of ruthless vandal ships. Eventheir cruiser was a new experience, the long, tapering fighter lackedthe luxurious offices and appointments of the regular I.S.P. Patrolspacers. It placed a maximum on speed, and all available space washoarded for fuel. The lightning fast tiger of the space-lanes, was athing of beauty, but of grim, sleek beauty instinct with power, not thecomfortable luxury that they knew.     Day after day they went through their drills, donning space suits,manning battle stations; aiming deadly atom-cannon at empty space, andeternally scanning the vast empty reaches by means of the telecast.     And suddenly, out of the void, as they had all but given up the searchas a wild goose chase, a speck was limned in the lighted surface of theviso-screen in the control room. Instantly the I.S.P. cruiser came tolife. In a burst of magnificent speed, the cruiser literally devouredthe space leagues, until the spacer became a flashing streak. On theviso-screen, the speck grew larger, took on contours, growing andbecoming slowly the drifting shell of what had been a transport.     Presently they were within reaching distance, and Captain Brookecommanded through the teleradio from the control room:     Prepare to board!     Every member of the crew wanted to be among the boarding party, forall but George Randall, the junior member of the crew had served hisapprenticeship among the inner planets, Mars, Venus and Terra. He feltnauseated at the very thought of going out there in that vast abyss ofspace. His young, beardless face, with the candid blue eyes went palewhen the order was given. But presently, Captain Brooke named those whowere to go beside himself:     You, Tom and Scotty, take one emergency plane, and Dallas!     Yes, Captain! Dallas Bernan, the immense third lieutenant boomed inhis basso-profundo voice.     You and I'll take a second emergency! There was a pause in the voiceof the Captain from the control room, then: Test space suits. Testoxygen helmets! Atom-blasts only, ready in five minutes!     George Randall breathed a sigh of relief. He watched them bridge thespace to the drifting wreck, then saw them enter what had once been aproud interplanetary liner, now soon to be but drifting dust, and heturned away with a look of shame.     Inside the liner, Captain Dennis Brooke had finished making a detailedsurvey.     No doubt about it, he spoke through the radio in his helmet. Cargomissing. No survivors. No indication that the repulsion fields wereout of order. And finally, those Genton shells could only have beenfired by Koerber! He tried to maintain a calm exterior, but inwardlyhe seethed in a cold fury more deadly than any he had ever experienced.Somehow he had expected to find at least one compartment unharmed,where life might have endured, but now, all hope was gone. Only a greatresolve to deal with Koerber once and for all remained to him.     Dennis tried not to think of Marla, too great an ache was involved inthinking of her and all he had lost. When he finally spoke, his voicewas harsh, laconic:     Prepare to return!     Scotty Byrnes, the cruiser's nurse, who could take his motors through amajor battle, or hell and high water and back again, for that matter,shifted the Venusian weed that made a perpetual bulge on his cheek andgazed curiously at Captain Brooke. They all knew the story in variousversions, and with special additions. But they were spacemen, implicitin their loyalty, and with Dennis Brooke they could and did feel safe.     Tom Jeffery, the tall, angular and red-faced Navigator, whose slow,easygoing movements belied the feral persistence of a tiger, and theswiftness of a striking cobra in a fight, led the small procession ofmen toward the emergency planes. Behind him came Dallas Bernan, thirdlieutenant, looming like a young asteroid in his space suit, followedby Scotty, and finally Captain Brooke himself. All left in silence, asif the tragedy that had occurred aboard the wrecked liner, had touchedthem intimately.  <doc-sep>    THE FIRST MAN INTO SPACE     Cadet Marshall Farnsworth woke from anightmare of exploding novae and fouling rockets.After recovering from his fright, he laughed contemptuouslyat himself. “Here I was picked as themost stable of a group of two hundred cadets,” hethought, “and chosen to make man’s first trip intospace, yet I’m shaking like a leaf.”     He got out of bed and went over to the window.From his father’s temporary apartment, he couldsee distant Skyharbor, the scene of the plunge intospace tomorrow night. He had been awarded thefrightening honor of making that trip.   10    As he watched teardrop cars whip along Phoenix,Arizona’s, double-decked streets, elevated over oneanother to avoid dangerous intersections and delayingstop lights, he thought back over the years; tothe 1950’s, when mice and monkeys were sent upin Vikings to launch mankind’s first probing of themysterious space beyond Earth, and the first satelliteswere launched; to the 1960’s, when huger,multiple-stage rockets finally conquered the problemof escape velocity; to 1975—today—when manwas finally ready to send one of his own kind intothe uninhabited deeps.     Marsh climbed back into bed, but sleep wouldnot come.     In the adjoining room, he could hear the footstepsof mother and father. By their sound he knewthey were the footsteps of worried people. Thishurt Marsh more than his own uneasiness.     The anxiety had begun for them, he knew, whenhe had first signed up for space-cadet training. Theyhad known there was an extremely high percentageof washouts, and after each test he passed, they hadpretended to be glad. But Marsh knew that inwardlythey had hoped he would fail, for they wereaware of the ultimate goal that the space scientistswere working for—the goal that had just now beenreached.     Marsh finally fell into a troubled sleep that lasteduntil morning.     He woke early, before the alarm rang. He gotup, showered, pulled on his blue-corded cadet uniform,and tugged on the polished gray boots. Hetook one final look around his room as though infarewell, then went out to the kitchen.   11    His folks were up ahead of time too, trying toact as though it were just another day. Dad was pretendingto enjoy his morning paper, nodding onlycasually to Marsh as he came in. Mom was stirringscrambled eggs in the skillet, but she wasn’t a verygood actor, Marsh noticed, for she furtively wipedher eyes with her free hand.     The eggs were cooked too hard and the toast hadto be scraped, but no one seemed to care. The threeof them sat down at the table, still speaking inmonosyllables and of unimportant things. Theymade a pretense of eating.     “Well, Mom,” Dad suddenly said with a forcedjollity that was intended to break the tension, “theFarnsworth family has finally got a celebrity in it.”     “I don’t see why they don’t send an older man!”Mom burst out, as though she had been holding itin as long as she could. “Sending a boy who isn’teven twenty-two—”     “Things are different nowadays, Mom,” Dad explained,still with the assumed calmness thatmasked his real feelings. “These days, men growup faster and mature quicker. They’re stronger andmore alert than older men—” His voice trailed offas if he were unable to convince himself.     “      Some     body has to go,” Marsh said. “Why not ayounger man without family and responsibility?That’s why they’re giving younger men more opportunitiestoday than they used to.”     “It’s not younger men I’m talking about!” Momblurted. “It’s you, Marsh!”   12    Dad leaned over and patted Mom on the shoulder.“Now, Ruth, we promised not to get excitedthis morning.”     “I’m sorry,” Mom said weakly. “But Marsh is tooyoung to—” She caught herself and put her handover her mouth.     “Stop talking like that!” Dad said. “Marsh iscoming back. There’ve been thousands of rocketssent aloft. The space engineers have made sure thatevery bug has been ironed out before risking aman’s life. Why, that rocket which Marsh is goingup in is as safe as our auto in the garage, isn’t it,Marsh?”     “I hope so, Dad,” Marsh murmured.      Later, as Dad drove Marsh to the field, eachbrooded silently. Every scene along the way seemedto take on a new look for Marsh. He saw thingsthat he had never noticed before. It was an uncomfortablefeeling, almost as if he were seeing thesethings for the last as well as the first time.     Finally the airport came into view. The guardsat the gate recognized Marsh and ushered theFarnsworth car through ahead of scores of othersthat crowded the entrance. Some eager news photographersslipped up close and shot off flash bulbsin Marsh’s eyes.     Skyharbor, once a small commercial field, hadbeen taken over by the Air Force in recent yearsand converted into the largest rocket experimentalcenter in the United States.   13    Dad drove up to the building that would be thescene of Marsh’s first exhaustive tests and briefings.He stopped the car, and Marsh jumped out. Theirgood-by was brief. Marsh saw his father’s mouthquiver. There was a tightness in his own throat. Hehad gone through any number of grueling tests toprove that he could take the rigors of space, butnot one of them had prepared him for the hardestmoments of parting.     When Dad had driven off, Marsh reported firstto the psychiatrist who checked his condition.     “Pulse fast, a rise in blood pressure,” he said.“You’re excited, aren’t you, son?”     “Yes, sir,” Marsh admitted. “Maybe they’ve gotthe wrong man, sir. I might fail them.”     The doctor grinned. “They don’t have the wrongman,” he said. “They might have, with a so-callediron-nerved fellow. He could contain his tensionand fears until later, until maybe the moment ofblast-off. Then he’d let go, and when he needed hiscalmest judgment he wouldn’t have it. No, Marshall,there isn’t a man alive who could make thishistory-making flight without some anxiety. Forgetit. You’ll feel better as the day goes on. I’ll see youonce more before the blast-off.”     Marsh felt more at ease already. He went on tothe space surgeon, was given a complete physicalexamination, and was pronounced in perfect condition.Then began his review briefing on everythinghe would encounter during the flight.   14    Blast-off time was for 2230, an hour and a halfbefore midnight. Since at night, in the WesternHemisphere, Earth was masking the sun, the complicationsof excessive temperatures in the outerreaches were avoided during the time Marsh wouldbe outside the ship. Marsh would occupy the smallupper third section of a three-stage rocket. The firsttwo parts would be jettisoned after reaching theirpeak velocities. Top speed of the third stage wouldcarry Marsh into a perpetual-flight orbit aroundEarth, along the route that a permanent space stationwas to be built after the results of the flightwere studied. After spending a little while in thisorbit, Marsh would begin the precarious journeyback to Earth, in gliding flight.     He got a few hours of sleep after sunset. Whenan officer shook him, he rose from the cot he hadbeen lying on in a private room of General Forsythe,Chief of Space Operations.     “It’s almost time, son,” the officer said. “YourCO wants to see you in the outside office.”     Marsh went into the adjoining room and foundhis cadet chief awaiting him. The youth detected anunusual warmth about the severe gentleman whopreviously had shown only a firm, uncompromisingattitude. Colonel Tregasker was past middle age,and his white, sparse hair was smoothed down closeto his head in regulation neatness.   15    “Well, this is it, Marshall,” the colonel said.“How I envy you this honor of being the first humanto enter space. However, I do feel that a partof me is going along too, since I had a small sharein preparing you for the trip. If the training washarsh at times, I believe that shortly you willunderstand the reason for it.”     “I didn’t feel that the Colonel was either too softor strict, sir,” Marsh said diplomatically.     A speaker out on the brilliantly lit field blaredloudly in the cool desert night: “X minus fortyminutes.”     “We can’t talk all night, Marshall,” the colonelsaid briskly. “You’ve got a job to do. But first, a fewof your friends want to wish you luck.” He calledinto the anteroom, “You may come in, gentlemen!”     There filed smartly into the room ten youths whohad survived the hard prespace course with Marshand would be his successors in case he failed tonight.They formed a line and shook hands withMarsh. The first was Armen Norton who had gottensick in the rugged centrifuge at a force of 9 G’s,then had rallied to pass the test.     “Good luck, Marsh,” he said.     Next was lanky Lawrence Egan who had beencertain he would wash out during navigation phasein the planetarium. “All the luck in the world,Marsh,” he added.     Each cadet brought back a special memory of histraining as they passed before him, wishing himsuccess.   16    When they had gone and the speaker outsidehad announced: “X minus thirty minutes,” thecolonel said that he and Marsh had better be leaving.Colonel Tregasker was to be Marsh’s escort tothe ship.     Photographers and newspapermen swarmedabout them as they climbed into the jeep that wasto take them to the launching site farther out onthe field. Questions were flung at the two from allsides, but the colonel deftly maneuvered the jeepthrough the mob and sped off over the asphalt.     At the blast-off site, Marsh could see that thepolice had their hands full keeping out thousandsof spectators who were trying to get into the closed-offarea. The field was choked with a tide of humanitymilling about in wild confusion. Giant searchlights,both at the airport and in other parts ofPhoenix, directed spears of light on the toweringrocket that held the interest of all the world tonight.There was one light, far larger than the rest,with powerful condensing lenses and connected toa giant radar screen, which would guide Marshhome from his trip among the stars.     A high wire fence surrounded the launchingramp and blockhouses. International scientists anddignitaries with priorities formed a ring aroundthe fence, but even they were not allowed insidethe small circle of important activity. The guardswaved the colonel and Marsh through the gate.   17    Marsh had spent many weeks in a mock-up of thetiny third stage in which he was to spend his timealoft, but he had never been close to the completelyassembled ship until this moment. The three stageshad been nicknamed, “Tom,” “Dick,” and “Harry.”Marsh swallowed as his eyes roved up the side ofthe great vessel, part of a project that had cost millionsto perfect and was as high as a four-storybuilding.     The gigantic base, “Big Tom,” was the sectionthat would have the hardest job to do, that ofthrusting the rocket through the densest part of theatmosphere, and this was a great deal larger thanthe other sections. Marsh knew that most of theship’s bulk was made up of the propellant fuel ofhydrazine hydrate and its oxidizer, nitric acid.     “We’re going into that blockhouse over there,”Colonel Tregasker said. “You’ll don your space gearin there.”     First a multitude of gadgets with wires were fastenedto the cadet’s wrists, ankles, nose, and head.Marsh knew this to be one of the most importantphases of the flight—to find out a man’s reaction tospace flight under actual rocketing conditions. Eachwire would telemeter certain information by radioback to the airport. After a tight inner G suit hadbeen put on to prevent blackout, the plastic andrubber outer garment was zipped up around Marsh,and then he was ready except for his helmet, whichwould not be donned until later.   18    Marsh and the colonel went back outside. Theopen-cage elevator was lowered from the top of thebig latticed platform that surrounded the rocket.The two got into the cage, and it rose with them.Marsh had lost most of his anxiety and tensionduring the activities of the day, but his knees feltrubbery in these final moments as the elevator carriedhim high above the noisy confusion of the airport.      This was it.       As they stepped from the cage onto the platformof the third stage, Marsh heard the speaker belowcall out: “X minus twenty minutes.”     There were eleven engineers and workmen onthe platform readying the compartment that Marshwould occupy. Marsh suddenly felt helpless andalone as he faced the small chamber that mightvery well be his death cell. Its intricate dials andwires were staggering in their complexity.     Marsh turned and shook hands with Colonel Tregasker.“Good-by, sir,” he said in a quavering voice.“I hope I remember everything the Corps taughtme.” He tried to smile, but his facial musclestwitched uncontrollably.     “Good luck, son—lots of it,” the officer saidhuskily. Suddenly he leaned forward and embracedthe youth with a firm, fatherly hug. “This is notregulations,” he mumbled gruffly, “but hang regulations!”He turned quickly and asked to be carrieddown to the ground.     A man brought Marsh’s helmet and placed itover his head, then clamped it to the suit. Knobson the suit were twisted, and Marsh felt a warm,pressurized helium-oxygen mixture fill his suit andheadpiece.   19    Marsh stepped through the hatch into the smallcompartment. He reclined in the soft contourchair, and the straps were fastened by one of theengineers over his chest, waist, and legs. The wiresconnected to various parts of his body had beenbrought together into a single unit in the helmet.A wire cable leading from the panel was pluggedinto the outside of the helmet to complete the circuit.     Final tests were run off to make sure everythingwas in proper working order, including the two-wayshort-wave radio that would have to penetrate theelectrical ocean of the ionosphere. Then the double-hatchair lock was closed. Through his helmet receiver,Marsh could hear the final minutes and secondsbeing called off from inside the blockhouse.     “Everything O.K.?” Marsh was asked by someoneon the platform.     “Yes, sir,” Marsh replied.     “Then you’re on your own,” were the final ominouswords.     “X minus five minutes,” called the speaker.   20    It was the longest five minutes that Marsh couldremember. He was painfully aware of his crampedquarters. He thought of the tons of explosive beneathhim that presently would literally blow himsky-high. And he thought of the millions of peoplethe world over who, at this moment, were hoveringat radios and TV’s anxiously awaiting the dawn ofthe space age. Finally he thought of Dad and Mom,lost in that multitude of night watchers, and amongthe few who were not primarily concerned with thescientific aspect of the experiment. He wondered ifhe would ever see them again.     “X minus sixty seconds!”     Marsh knew that a warning flare was being sentup, to be followed by a whistle and a cloud ofsmoke from one of the blockhouses. As he felt feartrying to master him, he began reviewing all thethings he must remember and, above all, what todo in an emergency.     “X minus ten seconds—five—four—three—two—one—FIRE!”     There was a mighty explosion at Skyharbor.     The initial jolt which Marsh felt was much fiercerthan the gradually built up speed of the whirlingcentrifuge in training. He was crushed deeply intohis contour chair. It felt as though someone werepressing on his eyeballs; indeed, as if every organ inhis body were clinging to his backbone. But thesefirst moments would be the worst. A gauge showeda force of 7 G’s on him—equal to half a ton.     He watched the Mach numbers rise on the dialin front of his eyes on an overhead panel. EachMach number represented that much times thespeed of sound, 1,090 feet per second, 740 miles anhour.     Marsh knew “Big Tom” would blast for about aminute and a half under control of the automaticpilot, at which time it would drop free at an altitudeof twenty-five miles and sink Earthward in ametal mesh ’chute.   21    Marsh’s hurting eyes flicked to the outside temperaturegauge. It was on a steady 67 degrees belowzero Fahrenheit, and would be until he reachedtwenty miles. A reflecting prism gave him a squareof view of the sky outside. The clear deep blue ofthe cloud-free stratosphere met his eyes.     Mach 5, Mach 6, Mach 7 passed very quickly. Heheard a rumble and felt a jerk. “Big Tom” wasbreaking free. The first hurdle had been successfullyovercome, and the ship had already begun tiltinginto its trajectory.     There was a new surge of agony on his body asthe second stage picked up the acceleration at aforce of 7 G’s again. Marsh clamped his jaws as theforce pulled his lips back from his teeth anddragged his cheek muscles down. The Mach numberscontinued to rise—11, 12, 13—to altitude 200miles, the outer fringe of the earth’s atmosphere.There was a slight lifting of the pressure on hisbody. The rocket was still in the stratosphere, butthe sky was getting purple.     Mach 14—10,000 miles an hour.     “Dick” would jettison any moment. Marsh hadbeen aloft only about four minutes, but it hadseemed an age, every tortured second of it.   22    There was another rumble as the second stagebroke free. Marsh felt a new surge directly beneathhim as his own occupied section, “Harry,” beganblasting. It was comforting to realize he had successfullyweathered those tons of exploding hydrazineand acid that could have reduced him to nothingif something had gone wrong. Although hisspeed was still building up, the weight on himbegan to ease steadily as his body’s inertia finallyyielded to the sickeningly swift acceleration.     The speedometer needle climbed to Mach 21, thepeak velocity of the rocket, 16,000 miles per hour.His altitude was 350 miles—man’s highest ascent.Slowly then, the speedometer began to drop back.Marsh heard the turbo pumps and jets go silent asthe “lift” fuel was spent and rocket “Harry” beganits free-flight orbit around Earth.     The ship had reached a speed which exactlycounterbalanced the pull of gravity, and it could,theoretically, travel this way forever, provided noother outside force acted upon it. The effect onMarsh now was as if he had stopped moving. Relievedof the viselike pressure, his stomach andchest for a few seconds felt like inflated balloons.     “Cadet Farnsworth,” the voice of General Forsythespoke into his helmet receiver, “are you allright?”     “Yes, sir,” Marsh replied. “That is, I think so.”     It was good to hear a human voice again, somethingto hold onto in this crazy unreal world intowhich he had been hurtled.     “We’re getting the electronic readings from yourgauges O.K.,” the voice went on. “The doctor saysyour pulse is satisfactory under the circumstances.”     It was queer having your pulse read from 350miles up in the air.   23    Marsh realized, of course, that he was not trulyin the “air.” A glance at his air-pressure gauge confirmedthis. He was virtually in a vacuum. The temperatureand wind velocity outside might have astoundedhim if he were not prepared for the readings.The heat was over 2000 degrees Fahrenheit,and the wind velocity was of hurricane force! Butthese figures meant nothing because of the sparsenessof air molecules. Temperature and wind appliedonly to the individual particles, which werethousands of feet apart.     “How is your cosmic-ray count?” asked the general.     Marsh checked the C-ray counter on the panelfrom which clicking sounds were coming. “It’s low,sir. Nothing to worry about.”     Cosmic rays, the most powerful emanationsknown, were the only radiation in space that couldnot be protected against. But in small doses theyhad been found not to be dangerous.     “As soon as our recorders get more of the figuresyour telemeter is giving us,” the operations chiefsaid, “you can leave the rocket.”     When Marsh got the O.K. a few minutes later,he eagerly unstrapped the belts around his body.He could hardly contain his excitement at beingthe first person to view the globe of Earth fromspace. As he struggled to his feet, the lightness ofzero gravity made him momentarily giddy, and ittook some minutes for him to adjust to the terriblystrange sensation.   24    He had disconnected the cable leading from hishelmet to the ship’s transmitter and switched onthe ship’s fast-lens movie camera that would photographthe area covered by “Harry.” Then he wasready to go outside. He pressed a button on thewall, and the first air-lock hatch opened. He floatedinto the narrow alcove and closed the door in thecramped chamber behind him. He watched agauge, and when it showed normal pressure andtemperature again, he opened the outside hatch,closing it behind him. Had Marsh permitted thevacuum of space to contact the interior of theship’s quarters, delicate instruments would havebeen ruined by the sudden decompression and lossof heat. Marsh fastened his safety line to the shipso that there was no chance of his becoming separatedfrom it.     Then he looked “downward,” to experience thethrill of his life. Like a gigantic relief map, thepanorama of Earth stretched across his vision. Adowny blanket of gray atmosphere spread over thewhole of it, and patches of clouds were seen floatinglike phantom shapes beneath the clear vastnessof the stratosphere. It was a stunning sight forMarsh, seeing the pinpoint lights of the night citiesextending from horizon to horizon. It gave himan exhilarating feeling of being a king over it all.   25    Earth appeared to be rotating, but Marsh knewit was largely his own and the rocket’s fast speedthat was responsible for the illusion. As he hungin this region of the exosphere, he was thankful forhis cadet training in zero gravity. A special machine,developed only in recent years, simulatedthe weightlessness of space and trained the cadetsfor endurance in such artificial conditions.     “Describe some of the things you see, Marshall,”General Forsythe said over Marsh’s helmet receiver.“I’ve just cut in a recorder.”     “It’s a scene almost beyond description, sir,”Marsh said into the helmet mike. “The sky isthickly powdered with stars. The Milky Way is verydistinct, and I can make out lots of fuzzy spots thatmust be star clusters and nebulae and comets. Marsis like an extremely bright taillight, and the moonis so strong it hurts my eyes as much as the directsun does on earth.”     Marsh saw a faintly luminous blur pass beyondthe ship. It had been almost too sudden to catch.He believed it to be a meteor diving Earthward ata speed around forty-five miles a second. He reportedthis to the general.     As he brought his eyes down from the more distantfixtures of space to those closer by on Earth, astrange thing happened. He was suddenly seizedwith a fear of falling, although his zero-gravitytraining had been intended to prepare him againstthis very thing. A cold sweat come out over hisbody, and an uncontrollable panic threatened totake hold of him.   26    He made a sudden movement as though to catchhimself. Forgetting the magnification of motion infrictionless space and his own weightlessness, hewas shot quickly to the end of his safety line like acracked whip. His body jerked at the taut end andthen sped swiftly back in reaction toward the ship,head foremost. A collision could crack his helmet,exposing his body to decompression, causing himto swell like a balloon and finally explode.     In the grip of numbing fear, only at the last momentdid he have the presence of mind to fliphis body in a half-cartwheel and bring his boots upin front of him for protection. His feet bumpedagainst the rocket’s side, and the motion sent himhurtling back out to the end of the safety lineagain. This back-and-forth action occurred severaltimes before he could stop completely.     “I’ve got to be careful,” he panted to himself,as he thought of how close his space career hadcome to being ended scarcely before it had begun.     General Forsythe cut in with great concern, wonderingwhat had happened. When Marsh had explainedand the general seemed satisfied that Marshhad recovered himself, he had Marsh go on with hisdescription.     His senseless fear having gone now, Marsh lookeddown calmly, entranced as the features of theUnited States passed below his gaze. He named thecities he could identify, also the mountain ranges,lakes, and rivers, explaining just how they lookedfrom 350 miles up. In only a fraction of an hour’stime, the rocket had traversed the entire countryand was approaching the twinkling phosphorescenceof the Atlantic.   27    Marsh asked if “Tom” and “Dick” had landedsafely.     “‘Tom’ landed near Roswell, New Mexico,” GeneralForsythe told him, “and the ’chute of the secondsection has been reported seen north of Dallas.I think you’d better start back now, Marshall. It’lltake us many months to analyze all the informationwe’ve gotten. We can’t contact you very well on theother side of the world either, and thirdly, I don’twant you exposed to the sun’s rays outside theatmosphere in the Eastern Hemisphere any longerthan can be helped.”     Marsh tugged carefully on his safety line andfloated slowly back toward the ship. He enteredthe air lock. Then, inside, he raised the angle of hiscontour chair to upright position, facing the consoleof the ship’s manual controls for the glideEarthward. He plugged in his telemeter helmetcable and buckled one of the straps across his waist.     Since he was still moving at many thousands ofmiles an hour, it would be suicide to plungestraight downward. He and the glider would beturned into a meteoric torch. Rather, he wouldhave to spend considerable time soaring in and outof the atmosphere in braking ellipses until hereached much lower speed. Then the Earth’s gravitationalpull would do the rest.   28    This was going to be the trickiest part of the operation,and the most dangerous. Where before,Marsh had depended on automatic controls toguide him, now much of the responsibility was onhis own judgment. He remembered the manyhours he had sweated through to log his flyingtime. Now he could look back on that period in histraining and thank his lucky stars for it.     He took the manual controls and angled into theatmosphere. He carefully watched the AHF dial—theatmospheric heat friction gauge. When he hadneared the dangerous incendiary point, with theship having literally become red-hot, he soared intothe frictionless vacuum again. He had to keep thisup a long time in order to reduce his devastatingspeed.     It was something of a shock to him to leave theblack midnight of Earth’s slumbering side for thebrilliant hemisphere where the people of Europeand Asia were going about their daytime tasks. Hewould have liked to study this other half of theworld which he had glimpsed only a few times beforein his supersonic test flights, but he knew thiswould have to wait for future flights.     Finally, after a long time, his velocity was slowedenough so that the tug of gravity was stronger thanthe rocket’s ability to pull up out of the atmosphere.At this point, Marsh cut in “Harry’s” forwardbraking jets to check his falling speed.     “There’s something else to worry about,” hethought to himself. “Will old Harry hold togetheror will he fly apart in the crushing atmosphere?”   29    The directional radio signals from the powerfulSkyharbor transmitter were growing stronger asMarsh neared the shores of California. He couldsee the winking lights of San Diego and LosAngeles, and farther inland the swinging threadthat was the beacon at Skyharbor. All planes in hispath of flight had been grounded for the past fewhours because of the space flight. The only groundlight scanning the skies was the gigantic space beaconin Phoenix.     When Marsh reached Arizona, he began spiralingdownward over the state to kill the rest of hisaltitude and air speed. Even now the plane was ahurtling supersonic metal sliver streaking throughthe night skies like a comet. He topped the snow-cappedsummits of the towering San FranciscoPeaks on the drive southward, and he recognizedthe sprawling serpent of the Grand Canyon. Thenhe was in the lower desert regions of moon-splashedsand and cactus. Although the fire-hot temperatureof the outer skin had subsided, there had been damagedone to the walls and instruments, and possiblyto other parts, too. Marsh was worried lest his outsidecontrols might be too warped to give him agood touchdown, if indeed he could get down safelyat all.     A few thousand feet up, Marsh lowered his landinggear. Now the only problem left was to landhimself and the valuable ship safely inside the narrowparallels of the airstrip. He circled the airportseveral times as his altitude continued to plummet.   30    The meter fell rapidly. His braking rocket fuelwas gone now. From here on in, he would be ongliding power alone.     “Easy does it, Marshall,” the general said quietlyinto his ear. “You’re lining up fine. Level it out alittle and keep straight with the approach lights.That’s fine. You’re just about in.”     The lights of the airport seeming to rush up athim, Marsh felt a jolt as the wheels touched groundon the west end of the runway. He kept the shipsteady as it scurried along the smooth asphalt, losingthe last of its once tremendous velocity. Theplane hit the restraining wire across the strip andcame to a sudden stop, shoving Marsh hard againstthe single safety belt he wore. Finally, incredibly,the ship was still and he was safe.     He unfastened his strap and removed his spacehelmet. The heat of the compartment brought thesweat out on his face. He rose on wobbly legs andpressed the buttons to the hatches. The last doorflew open to admit the cool, bracing air of Earthwhich he had wondered if he would ever inhaleagain.     His aloneness was over then, suddenly and boisterously,as men swarmed over him with congratulations,eager questions, and looks of respect. Reporters’flash bulbs popped, and he felt like a newLindbergh as he was pulled down to the groundand mobbed. Finally the police came to his rescueand pushed back the curiosity seekers and newspapermen.Then only three men were allowedthrough the cordon.  <doc-sep>I didn't realize it was a derelict when Spinelli first reportedit from the forward scope position. I assumed it was a Foundationship. The Holcomb Foundation was founded for the purpose ofdeveloping spaceflight, and as the years went by it took on the wholeresponsibility for the building and dispatching of space ships. Neverin history had there been any real evidence of extra-terrestrialintelligent life, and when the EMV Triangle proved barren, we all justassumed that the Universe was man's own particular oyster. That kind ofunreasoning arrogance is as hard to explain as it is to correct.     There were plenty of ships being lost in space, and immediately thatSpinelli's report from up forward got noised about the Maid every oneof us started mentally counting up his share of the salvage money. Allthis before we were within ten thousand miles of the hulk!     All spaceships look pretty much alike, but as I sat at the telescopeI saw that there was something different about this one. At such adistance I couldn't get too much detail in our small three inch glass,but I could see that the hulk was big—bigger than any ship I'd everseen before. I had the radar fixed on her and then I retired with myslide rule to Control. It wasn't long before I discovered that thederelict ship was on a near collision course, but there was somethingabout its orbit that was strange. I called Cohn, the Metering Officer,and showed him my figures.     Mister Cohn, I said, chart in hand, do these figures look right toyou?     Cohn's dark eyes lit up as they always did when he worked with figures.It didn't take him long to check me. The math is quite correct,Captain, he said. I could see that he hadn't missed the inference ofthose figures on the chart.     Assemble the ship's company, Mister Cohn, I ordered.     The assembly horn sounded throughout the Maid and I could feel the tugof the automatics taking over as the crew left their stations. Soonthey were assembled in Control.     You have all heard about Mister Spinelli's find, I said, I havecomputed the orbit and inspected the object through the glass. It seemsto be a spacer ... either abandoned or in distress.... Reaching intothe book rack above my desk I took down a copy of the Foundation's      Space Regulations     and opened it to the section concerning salvage.     Sections XVIII, Paragraph 8 of the Code Regulating InterplanetaryAstrogation and Commerce, I read, Any vessel or part of vessel foundin an abandoned or totally disabled condition in any region of spacenot subject to the sovereignty of any planet of the Earth-Venus-MarsTriangle shall be considered to be the property of the crew of thevessel locating said abandoned or disabled vessel except in such casesas the ownership of said abandoned or disabled vessel may be readilyascertained.... I looked up and closed the book. Simply stated, thatmeans that if that thing ahead of us is a derelict we are entitled toclaim it as salvage.     Unless it already belongs to someone? asked Spinelli.     That's correct Mister Spinelli, but I don't think there is much dangerof that, I replied quietly. My figures show that hulk out there camein from the direction of Coma Berenices....     There was a long silence before Zaleski shifted his two hundred poundsuneasily and gave a form to the muted fear inside me. You think ...you think it came from the      stars     , Captain?     Maybe even from beyond the stars, Cohn said in a low voice.     Looking at that circle of faces I saw the beginnings of greed. Thefirst impact of the Metering Officer's words wore off quickly and soonevery man of my crew was thinking that anything from the stars would beworth money ... lots of money.     Spinelli said, Do we look her over, Captain?     They all looked at me, waiting for my answer. I knew it would be worthplenty, and money hunger was like a fever inside me.     Certainly we look it over, Mister Spinelli, I said sharply.Certainly!  <doc-sep>At the door to the famous rendezvous of the swankiest set, Si paused amoment and looked about. He'd never been in a place like this, either.However, he stifled his first instinct to wonder about what this wasgoing to do to his current credit balance with an inner grin and madehis way to the bar.     There was actually a bartender.     Si Pond suppressed his astonishment and said, offhand, attempting anair of easy sophistication, Slivovitz Sour.     Yes, sir.     The drinks in the Kudos Room might be concocted by hand, but Si noticedthey had the routine teevee screens built into the bar for payment.He put his credit card on the screen immediately before him when thedrink came, and had to quell his desire to dial for a balance check, soas to be able to figure out what the Sour had cost him.     Well, this was something like it. This was the sort of thing he'ddreamed about, out there in the great alone, seated in the confiningconning tower of his space craft. He sipped at the drink, finding it upto his highest expectations, and then swiveled slightly on his stool totake a look at the others present.     To his disappointment, there were no recognizable celebrities. Nonethat he placed, at least—top teevee stars, top politicians of theUltrawelfare State or Sports personalities.     He turned back to his drink and noticed, for the first time, the girlwho occupied the stool two down from him. Si Pond blinked. He blinkedand then swallowed.           Zo-ro-as-ter     , he breathed.     She was done in the latest style from Shanghai, even to the point ofhaving cosmetically duplicated the Mongolian fold at the corners of hereyes. Every pore, but      every     pore, was in place. She sat with the easygrace of the Orient, so seldom found in the West.     His stare couldn't be ignored.     She looked at him coldly, turned to the bartender and murmured, A FarOut Cooler, please, Fredric. Then deliberately added, I thought theKudos Room was supposed to be exclusive.     There was nothing the bartender could say to that, and he went aboutbuilding the drink.     Si cleared his throat. Hey, he said, how about letting this one beon me?     Her eyebrows, which had been plucked and penciled to carry out herOriental motif, rose. Really! she said, drawing it out.     The bartender said hurriedly, I beg your pardon, sir....     The girl, her voice suddenly subtly changed, said, Why, isn't that aspace pin?     Si, disconcerted by the sudden reversal, said, Yeah ... sure.     Good Heavens, you're a spaceman?     Sure. He pointed at the lapel pin. You can't wear one unless youbeen on at least a Moon run.     She was obviously both taken back and impressed. Why, she said,you're Seymour Pond, the pilot. I tuned in on the banquet they gaveyou.     Si, carrying his glass, moved over to the stool next to her. Call meSi, he said. Everybody calls me Si.     She said, I'm Natalie. Natalie Paskov. Just Natalie. Imagine meetingSeymour Pond. Just sitting down next to him at a bar. Just like that.     Si, Si said, gratified. Holy Zoroaster, he'd never seen anythinglike this rarified pulchritude. Maybe on teevee, of course, one of thecurrent sex symbols, but never in person. Call me Si, he said again.I been called Si so long, I don't even know who somebody's talking toif they say Seymour.     I cried when they gave you that antique watch, she said, her tonesuch that it was obvious she hadn't quite adjusted as yet to havingmet him.     Si Pond was surprised. Cried? he said. Well, why? I was kind ofbored with the whole thing. But old Doc Gubelin, I used to work underhim in the Space Exploration department, he was hot for it.           Academician     Gubelin? she said. You just call him      Doc     ?     Si was expansive. Why, sure. In the Space Department we don't havemuch time for formality. Everybody's just Si, and Doc, and Jim. Likethat. But how come you cried?  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the storyline of THE FIRST MAN INTO SPACE?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How does Marsh's emotional state evolve over the course of the narrative in THE FIRST MAN INTO SPACE? [SEP] <s>    THE FIRST MAN INTO SPACE     Cadet Marshall Farnsworth woke from anightmare of exploding novae and fouling rockets.After recovering from his fright, he laughed contemptuouslyat himself. “Here I was picked as themost stable of a group of two hundred cadets,” hethought, “and chosen to make man’s first trip intospace, yet I’m shaking like a leaf.”     He got out of bed and went over to the window.From his father’s temporary apartment, he couldsee distant Skyharbor, the scene of the plunge intospace tomorrow night. He had been awarded thefrightening honor of making that trip.   10    As he watched teardrop cars whip along Phoenix,Arizona’s, double-decked streets, elevated over oneanother to avoid dangerous intersections and delayingstop lights, he thought back over the years; tothe 1950’s, when mice and monkeys were sent upin Vikings to launch mankind’s first probing of themysterious space beyond Earth, and the first satelliteswere launched; to the 1960’s, when huger,multiple-stage rockets finally conquered the problemof escape velocity; to 1975—today—when manwas finally ready to send one of his own kind intothe uninhabited deeps.     Marsh climbed back into bed, but sleep wouldnot come.     In the adjoining room, he could hear the footstepsof mother and father. By their sound he knewthey were the footsteps of worried people. Thishurt Marsh more than his own uneasiness.     The anxiety had begun for them, he knew, whenhe had first signed up for space-cadet training. Theyhad known there was an extremely high percentageof washouts, and after each test he passed, they hadpretended to be glad. But Marsh knew that inwardlythey had hoped he would fail, for they wereaware of the ultimate goal that the space scientistswere working for—the goal that had just now beenreached.     Marsh finally fell into a troubled sleep that lasteduntil morning.     He woke early, before the alarm rang. He gotup, showered, pulled on his blue-corded cadet uniform,and tugged on the polished gray boots. Hetook one final look around his room as though infarewell, then went out to the kitchen.   11    His folks were up ahead of time too, trying toact as though it were just another day. Dad was pretendingto enjoy his morning paper, nodding onlycasually to Marsh as he came in. Mom was stirringscrambled eggs in the skillet, but she wasn’t a verygood actor, Marsh noticed, for she furtively wipedher eyes with her free hand.     The eggs were cooked too hard and the toast hadto be scraped, but no one seemed to care. The threeof them sat down at the table, still speaking inmonosyllables and of unimportant things. Theymade a pretense of eating.     “Well, Mom,” Dad suddenly said with a forcedjollity that was intended to break the tension, “theFarnsworth family has finally got a celebrity in it.”     “I don’t see why they don’t send an older man!”Mom burst out, as though she had been holding itin as long as she could. “Sending a boy who isn’teven twenty-two—”     “Things are different nowadays, Mom,” Dad explained,still with the assumed calmness thatmasked his real feelings. “These days, men growup faster and mature quicker. They’re stronger andmore alert than older men—” His voice trailed offas if he were unable to convince himself.     “      Some     body has to go,” Marsh said. “Why not ayounger man without family and responsibility?That’s why they’re giving younger men more opportunitiestoday than they used to.”     “It’s not younger men I’m talking about!” Momblurted. “It’s you, Marsh!”   12    Dad leaned over and patted Mom on the shoulder.“Now, Ruth, we promised not to get excitedthis morning.”     “I’m sorry,” Mom said weakly. “But Marsh is tooyoung to—” She caught herself and put her handover her mouth.     “Stop talking like that!” Dad said. “Marsh iscoming back. There’ve been thousands of rocketssent aloft. The space engineers have made sure thatevery bug has been ironed out before risking aman’s life. Why, that rocket which Marsh is goingup in is as safe as our auto in the garage, isn’t it,Marsh?”     “I hope so, Dad,” Marsh murmured.      Later, as Dad drove Marsh to the field, eachbrooded silently. Every scene along the way seemedto take on a new look for Marsh. He saw thingsthat he had never noticed before. It was an uncomfortablefeeling, almost as if he were seeing thesethings for the last as well as the first time.     Finally the airport came into view. The guardsat the gate recognized Marsh and ushered theFarnsworth car through ahead of scores of othersthat crowded the entrance. Some eager news photographersslipped up close and shot off flash bulbsin Marsh’s eyes.     Skyharbor, once a small commercial field, hadbeen taken over by the Air Force in recent yearsand converted into the largest rocket experimentalcenter in the United States.   13    Dad drove up to the building that would be thescene of Marsh’s first exhaustive tests and briefings.He stopped the car, and Marsh jumped out. Theirgood-by was brief. Marsh saw his father’s mouthquiver. There was a tightness in his own throat. Hehad gone through any number of grueling tests toprove that he could take the rigors of space, butnot one of them had prepared him for the hardestmoments of parting.     When Dad had driven off, Marsh reported firstto the psychiatrist who checked his condition.     “Pulse fast, a rise in blood pressure,” he said.“You’re excited, aren’t you, son?”     “Yes, sir,” Marsh admitted. “Maybe they’ve gotthe wrong man, sir. I might fail them.”     The doctor grinned. “They don’t have the wrongman,” he said. “They might have, with a so-callediron-nerved fellow. He could contain his tensionand fears until later, until maybe the moment ofblast-off. Then he’d let go, and when he needed hiscalmest judgment he wouldn’t have it. No, Marshall,there isn’t a man alive who could make thishistory-making flight without some anxiety. Forgetit. You’ll feel better as the day goes on. I’ll see youonce more before the blast-off.”     Marsh felt more at ease already. He went on tothe space surgeon, was given a complete physicalexamination, and was pronounced in perfect condition.Then began his review briefing on everythinghe would encounter during the flight.   14    Blast-off time was for 2230, an hour and a halfbefore midnight. Since at night, in the WesternHemisphere, Earth was masking the sun, the complicationsof excessive temperatures in the outerreaches were avoided during the time Marsh wouldbe outside the ship. Marsh would occupy the smallupper third section of a three-stage rocket. The firsttwo parts would be jettisoned after reaching theirpeak velocities. Top speed of the third stage wouldcarry Marsh into a perpetual-flight orbit aroundEarth, along the route that a permanent space stationwas to be built after the results of the flightwere studied. After spending a little while in thisorbit, Marsh would begin the precarious journeyback to Earth, in gliding flight.     He got a few hours of sleep after sunset. Whenan officer shook him, he rose from the cot he hadbeen lying on in a private room of General Forsythe,Chief of Space Operations.     “It’s almost time, son,” the officer said. “YourCO wants to see you in the outside office.”     Marsh went into the adjoining room and foundhis cadet chief awaiting him. The youth detected anunusual warmth about the severe gentleman whopreviously had shown only a firm, uncompromisingattitude. Colonel Tregasker was past middle age,and his white, sparse hair was smoothed down closeto his head in regulation neatness.   15    “Well, this is it, Marshall,” the colonel said.“How I envy you this honor of being the first humanto enter space. However, I do feel that a partof me is going along too, since I had a small sharein preparing you for the trip. If the training washarsh at times, I believe that shortly you willunderstand the reason for it.”     “I didn’t feel that the Colonel was either too softor strict, sir,” Marsh said diplomatically.     A speaker out on the brilliantly lit field blaredloudly in the cool desert night: “X minus fortyminutes.”     “We can’t talk all night, Marshall,” the colonelsaid briskly. “You’ve got a job to do. But first, a fewof your friends want to wish you luck.” He calledinto the anteroom, “You may come in, gentlemen!”     There filed smartly into the room ten youths whohad survived the hard prespace course with Marshand would be his successors in case he failed tonight.They formed a line and shook hands withMarsh. The first was Armen Norton who had gottensick in the rugged centrifuge at a force of 9 G’s,then had rallied to pass the test.     “Good luck, Marsh,” he said.     Next was lanky Lawrence Egan who had beencertain he would wash out during navigation phasein the planetarium. “All the luck in the world,Marsh,” he added.     Each cadet brought back a special memory of histraining as they passed before him, wishing himsuccess.   16    When they had gone and the speaker outsidehad announced: “X minus thirty minutes,” thecolonel said that he and Marsh had better be leaving.Colonel Tregasker was to be Marsh’s escort tothe ship.     Photographers and newspapermen swarmedabout them as they climbed into the jeep that wasto take them to the launching site farther out onthe field. Questions were flung at the two from allsides, but the colonel deftly maneuvered the jeepthrough the mob and sped off over the asphalt.     At the blast-off site, Marsh could see that thepolice had their hands full keeping out thousandsof spectators who were trying to get into the closed-offarea. The field was choked with a tide of humanitymilling about in wild confusion. Giant searchlights,both at the airport and in other parts ofPhoenix, directed spears of light on the toweringrocket that held the interest of all the world tonight.There was one light, far larger than the rest,with powerful condensing lenses and connected toa giant radar screen, which would guide Marshhome from his trip among the stars.     A high wire fence surrounded the launchingramp and blockhouses. International scientists anddignitaries with priorities formed a ring aroundthe fence, but even they were not allowed insidethe small circle of important activity. The guardswaved the colonel and Marsh through the gate.   17    Marsh had spent many weeks in a mock-up of thetiny third stage in which he was to spend his timealoft, but he had never been close to the completelyassembled ship until this moment. The three stageshad been nicknamed, “Tom,” “Dick,” and “Harry.”Marsh swallowed as his eyes roved up the side ofthe great vessel, part of a project that had cost millionsto perfect and was as high as a four-storybuilding.     The gigantic base, “Big Tom,” was the sectionthat would have the hardest job to do, that ofthrusting the rocket through the densest part of theatmosphere, and this was a great deal larger thanthe other sections. Marsh knew that most of theship’s bulk was made up of the propellant fuel ofhydrazine hydrate and its oxidizer, nitric acid.     “We’re going into that blockhouse over there,”Colonel Tregasker said. “You’ll don your space gearin there.”     First a multitude of gadgets with wires were fastenedto the cadet’s wrists, ankles, nose, and head.Marsh knew this to be one of the most importantphases of the flight—to find out a man’s reaction tospace flight under actual rocketing conditions. Eachwire would telemeter certain information by radioback to the airport. After a tight inner G suit hadbeen put on to prevent blackout, the plastic andrubber outer garment was zipped up around Marsh,and then he was ready except for his helmet, whichwould not be donned until later.   18    Marsh and the colonel went back outside. Theopen-cage elevator was lowered from the top of thebig latticed platform that surrounded the rocket.The two got into the cage, and it rose with them.Marsh had lost most of his anxiety and tensionduring the activities of the day, but his knees feltrubbery in these final moments as the elevator carriedhim high above the noisy confusion of the airport.      This was it.       As they stepped from the cage onto the platformof the third stage, Marsh heard the speaker belowcall out: “X minus twenty minutes.”     There were eleven engineers and workmen onthe platform readying the compartment that Marshwould occupy. Marsh suddenly felt helpless andalone as he faced the small chamber that mightvery well be his death cell. Its intricate dials andwires were staggering in their complexity.     Marsh turned and shook hands with Colonel Tregasker.“Good-by, sir,” he said in a quavering voice.“I hope I remember everything the Corps taughtme.” He tried to smile, but his facial musclestwitched uncontrollably.     “Good luck, son—lots of it,” the officer saidhuskily. Suddenly he leaned forward and embracedthe youth with a firm, fatherly hug. “This is notregulations,” he mumbled gruffly, “but hang regulations!”He turned quickly and asked to be carrieddown to the ground.     A man brought Marsh’s helmet and placed itover his head, then clamped it to the suit. Knobson the suit were twisted, and Marsh felt a warm,pressurized helium-oxygen mixture fill his suit andheadpiece.   19    Marsh stepped through the hatch into the smallcompartment. He reclined in the soft contourchair, and the straps were fastened by one of theengineers over his chest, waist, and legs. The wiresconnected to various parts of his body had beenbrought together into a single unit in the helmet.A wire cable leading from the panel was pluggedinto the outside of the helmet to complete the circuit.     Final tests were run off to make sure everythingwas in proper working order, including the two-wayshort-wave radio that would have to penetrate theelectrical ocean of the ionosphere. Then the double-hatchair lock was closed. Through his helmet receiver,Marsh could hear the final minutes and secondsbeing called off from inside the blockhouse.     “Everything O.K.?” Marsh was asked by someoneon the platform.     “Yes, sir,” Marsh replied.     “Then you’re on your own,” were the final ominouswords.     “X minus five minutes,” called the speaker.   20    It was the longest five minutes that Marsh couldremember. He was painfully aware of his crampedquarters. He thought of the tons of explosive beneathhim that presently would literally blow himsky-high. And he thought of the millions of peoplethe world over who, at this moment, were hoveringat radios and TV’s anxiously awaiting the dawn ofthe space age. Finally he thought of Dad and Mom,lost in that multitude of night watchers, and amongthe few who were not primarily concerned with thescientific aspect of the experiment. He wondered ifhe would ever see them again.     “X minus sixty seconds!”     Marsh knew that a warning flare was being sentup, to be followed by a whistle and a cloud ofsmoke from one of the blockhouses. As he felt feartrying to master him, he began reviewing all thethings he must remember and, above all, what todo in an emergency.     “X minus ten seconds—five—four—three—two—one—FIRE!”     There was a mighty explosion at Skyharbor.     The initial jolt which Marsh felt was much fiercerthan the gradually built up speed of the whirlingcentrifuge in training. He was crushed deeply intohis contour chair. It felt as though someone werepressing on his eyeballs; indeed, as if every organ inhis body were clinging to his backbone. But thesefirst moments would be the worst. A gauge showeda force of 7 G’s on him—equal to half a ton.     He watched the Mach numbers rise on the dialin front of his eyes on an overhead panel. EachMach number represented that much times thespeed of sound, 1,090 feet per second, 740 miles anhour.     Marsh knew “Big Tom” would blast for about aminute and a half under control of the automaticpilot, at which time it would drop free at an altitudeof twenty-five miles and sink Earthward in ametal mesh ’chute.   21    Marsh’s hurting eyes flicked to the outside temperaturegauge. It was on a steady 67 degrees belowzero Fahrenheit, and would be until he reachedtwenty miles. A reflecting prism gave him a squareof view of the sky outside. The clear deep blue ofthe cloud-free stratosphere met his eyes.     Mach 5, Mach 6, Mach 7 passed very quickly. Heheard a rumble and felt a jerk. “Big Tom” wasbreaking free. The first hurdle had been successfullyovercome, and the ship had already begun tiltinginto its trajectory.     There was a new surge of agony on his body asthe second stage picked up the acceleration at aforce of 7 G’s again. Marsh clamped his jaws as theforce pulled his lips back from his teeth anddragged his cheek muscles down. The Mach numberscontinued to rise—11, 12, 13—to altitude 200miles, the outer fringe of the earth’s atmosphere.There was a slight lifting of the pressure on hisbody. The rocket was still in the stratosphere, butthe sky was getting purple.     Mach 14—10,000 miles an hour.     “Dick” would jettison any moment. Marsh hadbeen aloft only about four minutes, but it hadseemed an age, every tortured second of it.   22    There was another rumble as the second stagebroke free. Marsh felt a new surge directly beneathhim as his own occupied section, “Harry,” beganblasting. It was comforting to realize he had successfullyweathered those tons of exploding hydrazineand acid that could have reduced him to nothingif something had gone wrong. Although hisspeed was still building up, the weight on himbegan to ease steadily as his body’s inertia finallyyielded to the sickeningly swift acceleration.     The speedometer needle climbed to Mach 21, thepeak velocity of the rocket, 16,000 miles per hour.His altitude was 350 miles—man’s highest ascent.Slowly then, the speedometer began to drop back.Marsh heard the turbo pumps and jets go silent asthe “lift” fuel was spent and rocket “Harry” beganits free-flight orbit around Earth.     The ship had reached a speed which exactlycounterbalanced the pull of gravity, and it could,theoretically, travel this way forever, provided noother outside force acted upon it. The effect onMarsh now was as if he had stopped moving. Relievedof the viselike pressure, his stomach andchest for a few seconds felt like inflated balloons.     “Cadet Farnsworth,” the voice of General Forsythespoke into his helmet receiver, “are you allright?”     “Yes, sir,” Marsh replied. “That is, I think so.”     It was good to hear a human voice again, somethingto hold onto in this crazy unreal world intowhich he had been hurtled.     “We’re getting the electronic readings from yourgauges O.K.,” the voice went on. “The doctor saysyour pulse is satisfactory under the circumstances.”     It was queer having your pulse read from 350miles up in the air.   23    Marsh realized, of course, that he was not trulyin the “air.” A glance at his air-pressure gauge confirmedthis. He was virtually in a vacuum. The temperatureand wind velocity outside might have astoundedhim if he were not prepared for the readings.The heat was over 2000 degrees Fahrenheit,and the wind velocity was of hurricane force! Butthese figures meant nothing because of the sparsenessof air molecules. Temperature and wind appliedonly to the individual particles, which werethousands of feet apart.     “How is your cosmic-ray count?” asked the general.     Marsh checked the C-ray counter on the panelfrom which clicking sounds were coming. “It’s low,sir. Nothing to worry about.”     Cosmic rays, the most powerful emanationsknown, were the only radiation in space that couldnot be protected against. But in small doses theyhad been found not to be dangerous.     “As soon as our recorders get more of the figuresyour telemeter is giving us,” the operations chiefsaid, “you can leave the rocket.”     When Marsh got the O.K. a few minutes later,he eagerly unstrapped the belts around his body.He could hardly contain his excitement at beingthe first person to view the globe of Earth fromspace. As he struggled to his feet, the lightness ofzero gravity made him momentarily giddy, and ittook some minutes for him to adjust to the terriblystrange sensation.   24    He had disconnected the cable leading from hishelmet to the ship’s transmitter and switched onthe ship’s fast-lens movie camera that would photographthe area covered by “Harry.” Then he wasready to go outside. He pressed a button on thewall, and the first air-lock hatch opened. He floatedinto the narrow alcove and closed the door in thecramped chamber behind him. He watched agauge, and when it showed normal pressure andtemperature again, he opened the outside hatch,closing it behind him. Had Marsh permitted thevacuum of space to contact the interior of theship’s quarters, delicate instruments would havebeen ruined by the sudden decompression and lossof heat. Marsh fastened his safety line to the shipso that there was no chance of his becoming separatedfrom it.     Then he looked “downward,” to experience thethrill of his life. Like a gigantic relief map, thepanorama of Earth stretched across his vision. Adowny blanket of gray atmosphere spread over thewhole of it, and patches of clouds were seen floatinglike phantom shapes beneath the clear vastnessof the stratosphere. It was a stunning sight forMarsh, seeing the pinpoint lights of the night citiesextending from horizon to horizon. It gave himan exhilarating feeling of being a king over it all.   25    Earth appeared to be rotating, but Marsh knewit was largely his own and the rocket’s fast speedthat was responsible for the illusion. As he hungin this region of the exosphere, he was thankful forhis cadet training in zero gravity. A special machine,developed only in recent years, simulatedthe weightlessness of space and trained the cadetsfor endurance in such artificial conditions.     “Describe some of the things you see, Marshall,”General Forsythe said over Marsh’s helmet receiver.“I’ve just cut in a recorder.”     “It’s a scene almost beyond description, sir,”Marsh said into the helmet mike. “The sky isthickly powdered with stars. The Milky Way is verydistinct, and I can make out lots of fuzzy spots thatmust be star clusters and nebulae and comets. Marsis like an extremely bright taillight, and the moonis so strong it hurts my eyes as much as the directsun does on earth.”     Marsh saw a faintly luminous blur pass beyondthe ship. It had been almost too sudden to catch.He believed it to be a meteor diving Earthward ata speed around forty-five miles a second. He reportedthis to the general.     As he brought his eyes down from the more distantfixtures of space to those closer by on Earth, astrange thing happened. He was suddenly seizedwith a fear of falling, although his zero-gravitytraining had been intended to prepare him againstthis very thing. A cold sweat come out over hisbody, and an uncontrollable panic threatened totake hold of him.   26    He made a sudden movement as though to catchhimself. Forgetting the magnification of motion infrictionless space and his own weightlessness, hewas shot quickly to the end of his safety line like acracked whip. His body jerked at the taut end andthen sped swiftly back in reaction toward the ship,head foremost. A collision could crack his helmet,exposing his body to decompression, causing himto swell like a balloon and finally explode.     In the grip of numbing fear, only at the last momentdid he have the presence of mind to fliphis body in a half-cartwheel and bring his boots upin front of him for protection. His feet bumpedagainst the rocket’s side, and the motion sent himhurtling back out to the end of the safety lineagain. This back-and-forth action occurred severaltimes before he could stop completely.     “I’ve got to be careful,” he panted to himself,as he thought of how close his space career hadcome to being ended scarcely before it had begun.     General Forsythe cut in with great concern, wonderingwhat had happened. When Marsh had explainedand the general seemed satisfied that Marshhad recovered himself, he had Marsh go on with hisdescription.     His senseless fear having gone now, Marsh lookeddown calmly, entranced as the features of theUnited States passed below his gaze. He named thecities he could identify, also the mountain ranges,lakes, and rivers, explaining just how they lookedfrom 350 miles up. In only a fraction of an hour’stime, the rocket had traversed the entire countryand was approaching the twinkling phosphorescenceof the Atlantic.   27    Marsh asked if “Tom” and “Dick” had landedsafely.     “‘Tom’ landed near Roswell, New Mexico,” GeneralForsythe told him, “and the ’chute of the secondsection has been reported seen north of Dallas.I think you’d better start back now, Marshall. It’lltake us many months to analyze all the informationwe’ve gotten. We can’t contact you very well on theother side of the world either, and thirdly, I don’twant you exposed to the sun’s rays outside theatmosphere in the Eastern Hemisphere any longerthan can be helped.”     Marsh tugged carefully on his safety line andfloated slowly back toward the ship. He enteredthe air lock. Then, inside, he raised the angle of hiscontour chair to upright position, facing the consoleof the ship’s manual controls for the glideEarthward. He plugged in his telemeter helmetcable and buckled one of the straps across his waist.     Since he was still moving at many thousands ofmiles an hour, it would be suicide to plungestraight downward. He and the glider would beturned into a meteoric torch. Rather, he wouldhave to spend considerable time soaring in and outof the atmosphere in braking ellipses until hereached much lower speed. Then the Earth’s gravitationalpull would do the rest.   28    This was going to be the trickiest part of the operation,and the most dangerous. Where before,Marsh had depended on automatic controls toguide him, now much of the responsibility was onhis own judgment. He remembered the manyhours he had sweated through to log his flyingtime. Now he could look back on that period in histraining and thank his lucky stars for it.     He took the manual controls and angled into theatmosphere. He carefully watched the AHF dial—theatmospheric heat friction gauge. When he hadneared the dangerous incendiary point, with theship having literally become red-hot, he soared intothe frictionless vacuum again. He had to keep thisup a long time in order to reduce his devastatingspeed.     It was something of a shock to him to leave theblack midnight of Earth’s slumbering side for thebrilliant hemisphere where the people of Europeand Asia were going about their daytime tasks. Hewould have liked to study this other half of theworld which he had glimpsed only a few times beforein his supersonic test flights, but he knew thiswould have to wait for future flights.     Finally, after a long time, his velocity was slowedenough so that the tug of gravity was stronger thanthe rocket’s ability to pull up out of the atmosphere.At this point, Marsh cut in “Harry’s” forwardbraking jets to check his falling speed.     “There’s something else to worry about,” hethought to himself. “Will old Harry hold togetheror will he fly apart in the crushing atmosphere?”   29    The directional radio signals from the powerfulSkyharbor transmitter were growing stronger asMarsh neared the shores of California. He couldsee the winking lights of San Diego and LosAngeles, and farther inland the swinging threadthat was the beacon at Skyharbor. All planes in hispath of flight had been grounded for the past fewhours because of the space flight. The only groundlight scanning the skies was the gigantic space beaconin Phoenix.     When Marsh reached Arizona, he began spiralingdownward over the state to kill the rest of hisaltitude and air speed. Even now the plane was ahurtling supersonic metal sliver streaking throughthe night skies like a comet. He topped the snow-cappedsummits of the towering San FranciscoPeaks on the drive southward, and he recognizedthe sprawling serpent of the Grand Canyon. Thenhe was in the lower desert regions of moon-splashedsand and cactus. Although the fire-hot temperatureof the outer skin had subsided, there had been damagedone to the walls and instruments, and possiblyto other parts, too. Marsh was worried lest his outsidecontrols might be too warped to give him agood touchdown, if indeed he could get down safelyat all.     A few thousand feet up, Marsh lowered his landinggear. Now the only problem left was to landhimself and the valuable ship safely inside the narrowparallels of the airstrip. He circled the airportseveral times as his altitude continued to plummet.   30    The meter fell rapidly. His braking rocket fuelwas gone now. From here on in, he would be ongliding power alone.     “Easy does it, Marshall,” the general said quietlyinto his ear. “You’re lining up fine. Level it out alittle and keep straight with the approach lights.That’s fine. You’re just about in.”     The lights of the airport seeming to rush up athim, Marsh felt a jolt as the wheels touched groundon the west end of the runway. He kept the shipsteady as it scurried along the smooth asphalt, losingthe last of its once tremendous velocity. Theplane hit the restraining wire across the strip andcame to a sudden stop, shoving Marsh hard againstthe single safety belt he wore. Finally, incredibly,the ship was still and he was safe.     He unfastened his strap and removed his spacehelmet. The heat of the compartment brought thesweat out on his face. He rose on wobbly legs andpressed the buttons to the hatches. The last doorflew open to admit the cool, bracing air of Earthwhich he had wondered if he would ever inhaleagain.     His aloneness was over then, suddenly and boisterously,as men swarmed over him with congratulations,eager questions, and looks of respect. Reporters’flash bulbs popped, and he felt like a newLindbergh as he was pulled down to the groundand mobbed. Finally the police came to his rescueand pushed back the curiosity seekers and newspapermen.Then only three men were allowedthrough the cordon.  <doc-sep>Six days after leaving Swamp City we reached Level Five, the lastoutpost of firm ground. Ahead lay the inner marsh, stretching as far asthe eye could reach. Low islands projected at intervals from the thickwater. Mold balls, two feet across, drifted down from the slate-graysky like puffs of cotton.     We had traveled this far by      ganet     , the tough little two headed packanimal of the Venus hinterland. Any form of plane or rocket would havehad its motor instantly destroyed, of course, by the magnetic forcebelt that encircled the planet's equator. Now our drivers changed toboatmen, and we loaded our supplies into three clumsy      jagua     canoes.     It was around the camp fire that night that Grannie took me into herconfidence for the first time since we had left Swamp City.     We're heading directly for Varsoom country, she said. If we findEzra Karn so much the better. If we don't, we follow his directions tothe lost space ship. Our job is to find that ore and destroy it. Yousee, I'm positive the Green Flames have never been removed from theship.     Sleep had never bothered me, yet that night I lay awake for hourstossing restlessly. The thousand sounds of the blue marsh dronedsteadily. And the news broadcast I had heard over the portable visijust before retiring still lingered in my mind. To a casual observerthat broadcast would have meant little, a slight rebellion here, anisolated crime there. But viewed from the perspective Grannie hadgiven me, everything dovetailed. The situation on Jupiter was swiftlycoming to a head. Not only had the people on that planet demanded thatrepresentative government be abolished, but a forum was now being heldto find a leader who might take complete dictatorial control.     Outside a whisper-worm hissed softly. I got up and strode out of mytent. For some time I stood there, lost in thought. Could I believeGrannie's incredible story? Or was this another of her fantastic plotswhich she had skilfully blended into a novel?     Abruptly I stiffened. The familiar drone of the marsh was gone. In itsplace a ringing silence blanketed everything.     And then out in the gloom a darker shadow appeared, moving inundulating sweeps toward the center of the camp. Fascinated, I watchedit advance and retreat, saw two hyalescent eyes swim out of the murk.It charged, and with but a split second to act, I threw myself flat.There was a rush of mighty wings as the thing swept over me. Sharptalons raked my clothing. Again it came, and again I rolled swiftly,missing the thing by the narrowest of margins.     From the tent opposite a gaunt figure clad in a familiar dressappeared. Grannie gave a single warning:     Stand still!     The thing in the darkness turned like a cam on a rod and drove at usagain. This time the old woman's heat gun clicked, and a tracery ofpurple flame shot outward. A horrible soul-chilling scream rent theair. A moment later something huge and heavy scrabbled across theground and shot aloft.        Grannie Annie fired with deliberate speed.        I stood frozen as the diminuendo of its wild cries echoed back to me.     In heaven's name, what was it?     Hunter-bird, Grannie said calmly. A form of avian life found herein the swamp. Harmless in its wild state, but when captured, it can betrained to pursue a quarry until it kills. It has a single unit brainand follows with a relentless purpose.     Then that would mean...?     That it was sent by our enemy, the same enemy that shot at us in thecafe in Swamp City. Exactly. Grannie Annie halted at the door of hertent and faced me with earnest eyes. Billy-boy, our every move isbeing watched. From now on it's the survival of the fittest.  <doc-sep>A few weeks of this and I became a bit dazed.     And then there was the problem of everyday existence. You might sayit's lucky to be an N/P for a while. I've heard people say that. Basicneeds provided, worlds of leisure time; on the surface it soundsattractive.     But let me give you an example. Say it is monthly realfood day. You goto the store, your mouth already watering in anticipation. You takeyour place in line and wait for your package. The distributor takesyour coupon book and is all ready to reach for your package—and thenhe sees the fatal letters N/P. Non-Producer. A drone, a drain upon theState. You can see his stare curdle. He scowls at the book again.     Not sure this is in order. Better go to the end of the line. We'llcheck it later.     You know what happens before the end of the line reaches the counter.No more packages.     Well, I couldn't get myself off N/P status until I got a post, andwith my name I      couldn't     get a post.     Nor could I change my name. You know what happens when you try tochange something already on the records. The very idea of wantingchange implies criticism of the State. Unthinkable behavior.     That was why this curious dream voice shocked me so. The thing that itsuggested was quite as embarrassing as its non-standard, emotional,provocative tone.     Bear with me; I'm getting to the voice—to      her     —in a moment.     I want to tell you first about the loneliness, the terrible loneliness.I could hardly join group games at any of the rec centers. I could joinno special interest clubs or even State Loyalty chapters. Although Idabbled with theoretical research in my own quarters, I could scarcelysubmit any findings for publication—not with my name attached. Apseudonym would have been non-regulation and illegal.     But there was the worst thing of all. I could not mate.  <doc-sep>It didn't make sense, of course. But nothing made sense in this madventure. Grannie Annie opened her duffel bag and drew out a copy ofher most popular book. With the volume under her arm, she mounted theladder to the top of the envelope. Ezra Karn rigged up a radite searchlamp, and a moment later the old woman stood in the center of a circleof white radiance.     Karn gripped my arm. This is it, he said tensely. If this fails ...     His voice clipped off as Grannie began to read. She read slowlyat first, then intoned the words and sentences faster and moredramatically.     And out in the swamp a vast hush fell as if unseen ears were listening.     ...      the space liner was over on her beam ends now as another shotfrom the raider's vessel crashed into the stern hold. In the controlcabin Cuthbert Strong twisted vainly at his bonds as he sought to freehimself. Opposite him, lashed by strong Martian vinta ropes to thegravascope, Louise Belmont sobbed softly, wringing her hands in muteappeal.          A restless rustling sounded out in the marsh, as if hundreds of bodieswere surging closer. Karn nodded in awe.     She's got 'em! he whispered. Listen. They're eatin' up every word.     I heard it then, and I thought I must be dreaming. From somewhere outin the swamp a sound rose into the thick air. A high-pitched chuckle,it was. The chuckle came again. Now it was followed by another andanother. An instant later a wave of low subdued laughter rose into theair.     Ezra Karn gulped. Gripes! he said. They're laughing already.      They're laughing at her book!     And look, the old lady's gettin' sore.     Up on the roof of the envelope Grannie Annie halted her reading toglare savagely out into the darkness.     The laughter was a roar now. It rose louder and louder, peal after pealof mirthful yells and hysterical shouts. And for the first time in mylife, I saw Annabella C. Flowers mad. She stamped her foot; she shookher fist at the unseen hordes out before her.     Ignorant slap-happy fools! she screamed. You don't know good sciencefiction when you hear it.     I turned to Karn and said quietly, Turn on the visi set. DoctorUniverse should be broadcasting now. Tune your microphone to pull inas much of that laughter as you can.  <doc-sep>For a moment the old lady sat there in silence; then she leaned back,closed her eyes, and I knew there was a story coming.     My last book,      Death In The Atom     , hit the stands last January,she began. When it was finished I had planned to take a six months'vacation, but those fool publishers of mine insisted I do a sequel.Well, I'd used Mars and Pluto and Ganymede as settings for novels, sofor this one I decided on Venus. I went to Venus City, and I spent sixweeks in-country. I got some swell background material, and I met EzraKarn....     Who? I interrupted.     An old prospector who lives out in the deep marsh on the outskirts ofVarsoom country. To make a long story short, I got him talking abouthis adventures, and he told me plenty.     The old woman paused. Did you ever hear of the Green Flames? sheasked abruptly.     I shook my head. Some new kind of ...     It's not a new kind of anything. The Green Flame is a radio-activerock once found on Mercury. The      Alpha     rays of this rock are similarto radium in that they consist of streams of material particlesprojected at high speed. But the character of the      Gamma     rays hasnever been completely analyzed. Like those set up by radium, they areelectromagnetic pulsations, but they are also a strange combination of      Beta     or cathode rays with negatively charged electrons.     When any form of life is exposed to these      Gamma     rays from the GreenFlame rock, they produce in the creature's brain a certain lassitudeand lack of energy. As the period of exposure increases, this conditiondevelops into a sense of impotence and a desire for leadership orguidance. Occasionally, as with the weak-willed, there is a spirit ofintolerance. The Green Flames might be said to be an inorganic opiate,a thousand times more subtle and more powerful than any known drug.     I was sitting up now, hanging on to the woman's every word.     Now in 2710, as you'd know if you studied your history, the threeplanets of Earth, Venus, and Mars were under governmental bondage. Thecruel dictatorship of Vennox I was short-lived, but it lasted longenough to endanger all civilized life.     The archives tell us that one of the first acts of the overthrowinggovernment was to cast out all Green Flames, two of which Vennox hadordered must be kept in each household. The effect on the people wasimmediate. Representative government, individual enterprise, freedomfollowed.     Grannie Annie lit a cigarette and flipped the match to the floor.     To go back to my first trip to Venus. As I said, I met Ezra Karn, anold prospector there in the marsh. Karn told me that on one of histravels into the Varsoom district he had come upon the wreckage ofan old space ship. The hold of that space ship was packed with GreenFlames!     If Grannie expected me to show surprise at that, she was disappointed.I said, So what?     So everything, Billy-boy. Do you realize what such a thing would meanif it were true? Green Flames were supposedly destroyed on all planetsafter the Vennox regime crashed. If a quantity of the rock were inexistence, and it fell into the wrong hands, there'd be trouble.     Of course, I regarded Karn's story as a wild dream, but it madecorking good story material. I wrote it into a novel, and a week afterit was completed, the manuscript was stolen from my study back onEarth.     I see, I said as she lapsed into silence. And now you've come to theconclusion that the details of your story were true and that someone isattempting to put your plot into action.     Grannie nodded. Yes, she said. That's exactly what I think.     I got my pipe out of my pocket, tamped Martian tobacco into the bowland laughed heartily. The same old Flowers, I said. Tell me, who'syour thief ... Doctor Universe?     She regarded me evenly. What makes you say that?     I shrugged.     The way the theater crowd acted. It all ties in.     The old woman shook her head. No, this is a lot bigger than a simplequiz program. The theater crowd was but a cross-section of what ishappening all over the System. There have been riots on Earth and Mars,police officials murdered on Pluto and a demand that government byrepresentation be abolished on Jupiter. The time is ripe for a militarydictator to step in.     And you can lay it all to the Green Flames. It seems incredible that asingle shipload of the ore could effect such a wide ranged area, but inmy opinion someone has found a means of making that quantity a thousandtimes more potent and is transmiting it      en masse     .     If it had been anyone but Grannie Annie there before me, I wouldhave called her a fool. And then all at once I got an odd feeling ofapproaching danger.     Let's get out of here, I said, getting up.       Zinnng-whack!       All right!     On the mirror behind the bar a small circle with radiating cracksappeared. On the booth wall a scant inch above Grannie's head thefresco seemed to melt away suddenly.     A heat ray!     Grannie Annie leaped to her feet, grasped my arm and raced for thedoor. Outside a driverless hydrocar stood with idling motors. The oldwoman threw herself into the control seat, yanked me in after her andthrew over the starting stud.     An instant later we were plunging through the dark night.  <doc-sep>Huge as a primitive nuclear reactor, the great electronic brain loomedabove the knot of hush-voiced men. It almost filled a two-story room inthe Thinkers' Foundation. Its front was an orderly expanse of controls,indicators, telltales, and terminals, the upper ones reached by a chairon a boom.     Although, as far as anyone knew, it could sense only the informationand questions fed into it on a tape, the human visitors could notresist the impulse to talk in whispers and glance uneasily at the greatcryptic cube. After all, it had lately taken to moving some of itsown controls—the permissible ones—and could doubtless improvise ahearing apparatus if it wanted to.     For this was the thinking machine beside which the Marks and Eniacs andManiacs and Maddidas and Minervas and Mimirs were less than Morons.This was the machine with a million times as many synapses as the humanbrain, the machine that remembered by cutting delicate notches in therims of molecules (instead of kindergarten paper-punching or the ConeyIsland shimmying of columns of mercury). This was the machine that hadgiven instructions on building the last three-quarters of itself. Thiswas the goal, perhaps, toward which fallible human reasoning and biasedhuman judgment and feeble human ambition had evolved.       This was the machine that really thought—a million-plus!       This was the machine that the timid cyberneticists and stuffyprofessional scientists had said could not be built. Yet this was themachine that the Thinkers, with characteristic Yankee push,      had     built. And nicknamed, with characteristic Yankee irreverence andgirl-fondness, Maizie.     Gazing up at it, the President of the United States felt a chordplucked within him that hadn't been sounded for decades, the dark andshivery organ chord of his Baptist childhood. Here, in a strange sense,although his reason rejected it, he felt he stood face to face withthe living God: infinitely stern with the sternness of reality, yetinfinitely just. No tiniest error or wilful misstep could ever escapethe scrutiny of this vast mentality. He shivered.  <doc-sep>She was not only trying to get me to commit nonconformity, but makingheretical remarks besides. I awoke that time and half-expected a Deaconto pop out of the tube and turn his electric club upon me.     And I heard the voice nearly every night.     It hammered away.           What if you do fail? Almost anything would be better than themiserable existence you're leading now!          One morning I even caught myself wondering just how I'd go about thisidea of hers. Wondering what the first step might be.     She seemed to read my thoughts. That night she said,       Consult the cybsin the Govpub office. If you look hard enough and long enough, you'llfind a way.          Now, on this morning of the seventeenth day in the ninth month,I ate my boiled egg slowly and actually toyed with the idea. Ithought of being on productive status again. I had almost lost myfanatical craving to be useful to the State, but I did want to bebusy—desperately. I didn't want to be despised any more. I didn'twant to be lonely. I wanted to reproduce myself.     I made my decision suddenly. Waves of emotion carried me along. I gotup, crossed the room to the directory, and pushbuttoned to find thelocation of the nearest Govpub office.     I didn't know what would happen and almost didn't care.      II     Like most important places, the Govpub Office in Center Four wasunderground. I could have taken a tunnelcar more quickly, but it seemedpleasanter to travel topside. Or maybe I just wanted to put this off abit. Think about it. Compose myself.     At the entrance to the Govpub warren there was a big director cyb, aplate with a speaker and switch. The sign on it said to switch it onand get close to the speaker and I did.     The cyb's mechanical voice—they never seem to get the th soundsright—said, This is Branch Four of the Office of GovernmentPublications. Say, 'Publications,' and/or, 'Information desired,' asthoroughly and concisely as possible. Use approved voice and standardphraseology.     Well, simple enough so far. I had always rather prided myself on myknack for approved voice, those flat, emotionless tones that indicateefficiency. And I would never forget how to speak Statese. I said,Applicant desires all pertinent information relative assignment,change or amendment of State Serial designations, otherwise generallyreferred to as nomenclature.     There was a second's delay while the audio patterns tripped relays andbrought the memory tubes in.     Then the cyb said, Proceed to Numbering and Identity section. Consultalphabetical list and diagram on your left for location of same.     Thanks, I said absent-mindedly.     I started to turn away and the cyb said, Information on tanks ismilitary information and classified. State authorization for—     I switched it off.  <doc-sep>Ben stiffened. And that's why you want me for an astrogator.     Maggie rose, her eyes wistful. If you want to come—and if you getwell. She looked at him strangely.     Suppose— He fought to find the right words. Suppose I got well anddecided not to join Jacob. What would happen to me? Would you let mego?     Her thin face was criss-crossed by emotion—alarm, then bewilderment,then fear. I don't know. That would be up to Jacob.     He lay biting his lip, staring at the photo of Jacob. She touched hishand and it seemed that sadness now dominated the flurry of emotionthat had coursed through her.     The only thing that matters, really, she murmured, is your walkingagain. We'll try this afternoon. Okay?     Okay, he said.     When she left, his eyes were still turned toward Jacob's photo.     He was like two people, he thought.     Half of him was an officer of the Space Corps. Perhaps one singlestarry-eyed boy out of ten thousand was lucky enough to reach that goal.     He remembered a little picture book his mother had given him when shewas alive. Under the bright pictures of spacemen were the captions:     A Space Officer Is Honest A Space Officer Is Loyal. A SpaceOfficer Is Dutiful.     Honesty, loyalty, duty. Trite words, but without those concepts,mankind would never have broken away from the planet that held itprisoner for half a million years.     Without them, Everson, after three failures and a hundred men dead,would never have landed on the Moon twenty-seven years ago.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How does Marsh's emotional state evolve over the course of the narrative in THE FIRST MAN INTO SPACE?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How did the first flight affect the characters in THE FIRST MAN INTO SPACE? [SEP] <s>Being a beggar, Skkiru discovered, did give him certain small,momentary advantages over those who had been alloted higher ranks.For one thing, it was quite in character for him to tread curiouslyupon the strangers' heels all the way to the temple—a ramshackleaffair, but then it had been run up in only three days—where theofficial reception was to be held. The principal difficulty was that,because of his equipment, he had a little trouble keeping himself fromovershooting the strangers. And though Bbulas might frown menacingly athim—and not only for his forwardness—that was in character on bothsides, too.     Nonetheless, Skkiru could not reconcile himself to his beggarhood, nomatter how much he tried to comfort himself by thinking at least hewasn't a pariah like the unfortunate metal-workers who had to standsegregated from the rest by a chain of their own devising—a poeticthought, that was, but well in keeping with his beggarhood. Beggarswere often poets, he believed, and poets almost always beggars. Sincemetal-working was the chief industry of Snaddra, this had provided theplanet automatically with a large lowest caste. Bbulas had taken theeasy way out.     Skkiru swallowed the last of the chocolate and regarded the highpriest with a simple-minded mendicant's grin. However, there werevolcanic passions within him that surged up from his toes when, as thewind and rain whipped through his scanty coverings, he remembered thesnug underskirts Bbulas was wearing beneath his warm gown. They weremetal, but they were solid. All the garments visible or potentiallyvisible were of woven metal, because, although there was cloth on theplanet, it was not politic for the Earthmen to discover how heavily theSnaddrath depended upon imports.     As the Earthmen reached the temple, Larhgan now appeared to join Bbulasat the head of the long flight of stairs that led to it. AlthoughSkkiru had seen her in her priestly apparel before, it had not madethe emotional impression upon him then that it did now, when, standingthere, clad in beauty, dignity and warm clothes, she bade the newcomerswelcome in several thousand words not too well chosen for her byBbulas—who fancied himself a speech-writer as well as a speech-maker,for there was no end to the man's conceit.     The difference between her magnificent garments and his own miserablerags had their full impact upon Skkiru at this moment. He saw the gulfthat had been dug between them and, for the first time in his shortlife, he felt the tormenting pangs of caste distinction. She looked solovely and so remote.     ... and so you are most welcome to Snaddra, men of Earth, she wassaying in her melodious voice. Our resources may be small but ourhearts are large, and what little we have, we offer with humility andwith love. We hope that you will enjoy as long and as happy a stay hereas you did on Nemeth....     Cyril looked at Raoul, who, however, seemed too absorbed incontemplating Larhgan's apparently universal charms to pay muchattention to the expression on his companion's face.     ... and that you will carry our affection back to all the peoples ofthe Galaxy.  <doc-sep>O'Rielly suddenly felt like turning her over his knee and whaling heruntil she couldn't sit for a year. This, mind you, he felt in an agewhere no Earth guy for a thousand years had dared raise so much as abreath against woman's supremacy in all matters. That male charactertrait, however, did not seem to be the overpowering reason whyO'Rielly, instead of laying violent hands upon this one's person, heardhimself saying in sympathetic outrage, A shame you had to go to allthat bother to get out here!     You're so kind. But I'm afraid I became rather sticky and smelly inthere.     They ought to cool the air in there with perfume! I'll drop asuggestion in the Old Woman's box first chance I get.     You're so thoughtful. And do you have bathing facilities?     That door right there. Oh, let me open it for you!     You're so sweet. Her big dark eyes glowed with such pure innocencethat O'Rielly could have torn down the universe and rebuilt it just forher.     Yes, ma'am, O'Rielly was floating on a pink cloud with heavenly musicin his head. Never felt so fine before. Except on the Venus layoverwhen he'd been roped into a dice game with a bunch of Venus lads whohad a jug to cheer one's parting with one's money.     A bell suddenly clanged fit to wake the dead while the overhead lightsflashed wildly. Only the watch room door. Only Callahan here now. Oldbuzzard had a drooped nose like a pick, chin like a shovel.     When he talked he was like digging a hole in front of himself. Well,what about that control?     What control?     Your fusion control that got itself two points low!     Oh, that little thing.     Callahan said something through his teeth, then studied O'Riellysharply. Hey, you been wetting your whistle on that Venus vino again?Lemme smell your breath! Bah. Loaded yourself full of chlorophyllagain probably. All right, stand aside whilst I see your burner.     Charmed to, Burner Chief Callahan, sir, O'Rielly said while bowinggracefully.     Higher than a swacked skunk's tail again, Callahan muttered, thensnapped back over his shoulder, Use your shower!     O'Rielly stood considering his shower door. Somehow he doubted thatBurner Chief Terrence Callahan's mood, or Captain Millicent Hatwoody's,would be improved by knowledge of she who was in O'Rielly's shower now.Not that the dear stowaway was less than charming. Quite the contrary.Oh, very quite!     You rockhead! Only Callahan back from the burner. Didn't I tell youto shower the stink off yourself? Old Woman's taking a Venus bigwigon tour the ship. Old Woman catches you like you been rassling skunksshe'll peel both our hides off. Not to mention what she'll do anywayabout your fusion control!     Burner Chief Callahan, sir, O'Rielly responded courteously, I havebeen thinking.     With what? Never mind, just keep on trying whilst I have a shower formyself here. Wherewith Callahan reached hand for O'Rielly's showerdoor.     Venus dames, O'Rielly said dreamily, don't boss anything, do they?     Callahan yelped like he'd been bit in the pants by a big Jupiter ant.O'Rielly! You trying to get both of us condemned to a Uranus moon?Callahan also shot a wild look to the intercom switch. It was in OFFposition; the flight room full of fancy gold-lace petticoats could nothave overheard from here. Nevertheless Callahan's eyes rolled like thedevil was behind him with the fork ready. O'Rielly, open your big earswhilst for your own good and mine I speak of certain matters.     Thousand years ago, it was, the first flight reached Venus. Guysgot one look at them dames. Had to bring some home or bust. So theneverybody on Earth got a look, mostly by TV only of course. That didit. Every guy on Earth began blowing his fuse over them dames. Give upthe shirt off his back, last buck in the bank, his own Earth dame orfamily—everything.     Well, that's when Earth dames took over like armies of wild catswith knots in their tails. Before the guys who'd brought the Venusdames to Earth could say anything they was taken apart too small topick up with a blotter. Earth dames wound up by flying the Venus onesback where they come from and serving notice if one ever set foot onEarth again there wouldn't be enough left of Venus to find with anelectron microscope.  <doc-sep>She nodded. There are quite a few of us now—about a thousand—and adozen ships. Our base used to be here on Venus, down toward the Pole.The dome we're in now was designed and built by us a few years agoafter we got pushed off Mars. We lost a few men in the construction,but with almost every advance in space, someone dies.     Venus is getting too civilized. We're moving out and this dome is onlya temporary base when we have cases like yours. The new base—I mightas well tell you it's going to be an asteroid. I won't say which one.     Don't get the idea that we're outlaws. Sure, about half our group iswanted by the Bureau, but we make honest livings. We're just peoplelike yourself and Jacob.     Jacob? Your husband?     She laughed. Makes you think of a Biblical character, doesn't it?Jacob's anything but that. And just plain 'Jake' reminds one of agrizzled old uranium prospector and he isn't like that, either.     She lit a cigarette. Anyway, the wanted ones stay out beyond thefrontiers. Jacob and those like him can never return to Earth—not evento Hoover City—except dead. The others are physical or psycho rejectswho couldn't get clearance if they went back to Earth. They knownothing but rocketing and won't give up. They bring in our ships tofrontier ports like Hoover City to unload cargo and take on supplies.     Don't the authorities object?     Not very strongly. The I. B. I. has too many problems right here tosearch the whole System for a few two-bit crooks. Besides, we carrycargoes of almost pure uranium and tungsten and all the stuff that'sscarce on Earth and Mars and Venus. Nobody really cares whether itcomes from the asteroids or Hades. If we want to risk our lives miningit, that's our business.     She pursed her lips. But if they guessed how strong we are or that wehave friends planted in the I. B. I.—well, things might be different.There probably would be a crackdown.     Ben scowled. What happens if there      is     a crackdown? And what will youdo when Space Corps ships officially reach the asteroids? They can'tignore you then.     Then we move on. We dream up new gimmicks for our crates and take themto Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto. In time, maybe, we'll bepushed out of the System itself. Maybe it won't be the white-suitedboys who'll make that first hop to the stars. It      could     be us, youknow—if we live long enough. But that Asteroid Belt is murder. Youcan't follow the text-book rules of astrogation out there. You make upyour own.  <doc-sep>If you doubt that—and I can see you do—just look at me. I supposeyou've never heard of the Martian Maid, and so you don't know the storyof what happened to her crew or her skipper. I can give you this muchof an answer.      I     was her skipper. And her crew? They ride high in thesky ... dust by this time. And all because they were men, and men aregreedy and hasty and full of an unreasoning, unthinking love for gold.They ride a golden ship that they paid for with all the years of theirlives. It's all theirs now. Bought and paid for.     It wasn't too long ago that I lifted the Maid off Solis Lacus onthat last flight. Not many of you will remember her class of ship,so many advances have been made in the last few years. The Maid wastwo hundred feet from tip to tail, and as sleek a spacer as ever cameout of the Foundation Yards. Chemical fueled, she was nothing at alllike the spherical hyperdrives we see today. She was armed, too. TheFoundation still thought of space as a possible stamping ground foralien creatures though no evidence of any extra-terrestrial life hadever been found ... then.     My crew was a rough bunch, like all those early crews. I remember themso well. Lean, hungry men with hell in their eyes and a great lust forhigh pay and hard living. Spinelli, Shelley, Cohn, Marvin, Zaleski.There wasn't a man on board who wouldn't have traded his immortal soulfor a few solar dollars, and I don't claim that I was any different.That's the kind of men that opened up the spaceways, too. Don't believeall this talk about the noble pioneering spirit of man. That's tripe.There never has been such a thing as a noble pioneer. Not in space oranywhere else. It is the malcontent and the adventuring mercenary thatpushes the frontier outward.     I didn't know, that night as I stood in the valve of the Maid, watchingthe loading cranes pull away, that I was starting out on my lastflight. I don't think any of the others could have guessed, either.It was the sort of night that you only see on Mars. The sort of nightthat makes a spaceman wonder why in hell he wants to leave the relativesecurity of the Earth-Mars-Venus Triangle to go jetting across the beltinto deep space and the drab desolation of the outer System.     I stood there, watching the lights of Canalopolis in the distance. Forjust a moment I was ... well, touched. It looked beautiful and unrealunder the racing moons. The lights of the gin mills and houses made asparkling filigree pattern on the dark waters of the ancient canal, andthe moons cast their shifting shadows across the silted banks. I wastoo far away to see the space-fevered bums and smell the shanties, andfor a little while I felt the wonder of standing on the soil of a worldthat man had made his own with his rapacity and his sheer guts andgimme.     I thought of our half empty cargo hold and the sweet payload we wouldpick up on Callisto. And I counted the extra cash my packets of snowwould bring from those lonely men up there on the barren moonlets ofthe outer Systems. There were plenty of cargoes carried on the Maidthat the Holcomb Foundation snoopers never heard about, you can be sureof that.     In those days the asteroid belt was      the     primary danger and menace toastrogation. For a long while it held men back from deep space, but asfuels improved a few ships were sent out over the top. A few millionmiles up out of the ecliptic plane brings you to a region of spacethat's pretty thinly strewn with asteroids, and that's the way we usedto make the flight between the outer systems and the EMV Triangle. Ittook a long while for hyperdrives to be developed and of course atomicsnever panned out because of the weight problem.     So that's the orbit the Maid took on that last trip of mine. Highand clear into the supra-solar void. And out there in that primevalblackness is where we found the derelict.  <doc-sep>    THE FIRST MAN INTO SPACE     Cadet Marshall Farnsworth woke from anightmare of exploding novae and fouling rockets.After recovering from his fright, he laughed contemptuouslyat himself. “Here I was picked as themost stable of a group of two hundred cadets,” hethought, “and chosen to make man’s first trip intospace, yet I’m shaking like a leaf.”     He got out of bed and went over to the window.From his father’s temporary apartment, he couldsee distant Skyharbor, the scene of the plunge intospace tomorrow night. He had been awarded thefrightening honor of making that trip.   10    As he watched teardrop cars whip along Phoenix,Arizona’s, double-decked streets, elevated over oneanother to avoid dangerous intersections and delayingstop lights, he thought back over the years; tothe 1950’s, when mice and monkeys were sent upin Vikings to launch mankind’s first probing of themysterious space beyond Earth, and the first satelliteswere launched; to the 1960’s, when huger,multiple-stage rockets finally conquered the problemof escape velocity; to 1975—today—when manwas finally ready to send one of his own kind intothe uninhabited deeps.     Marsh climbed back into bed, but sleep wouldnot come.     In the adjoining room, he could hear the footstepsof mother and father. By their sound he knewthey were the footsteps of worried people. Thishurt Marsh more than his own uneasiness.     The anxiety had begun for them, he knew, whenhe had first signed up for space-cadet training. Theyhad known there was an extremely high percentageof washouts, and after each test he passed, they hadpretended to be glad. But Marsh knew that inwardlythey had hoped he would fail, for they wereaware of the ultimate goal that the space scientistswere working for—the goal that had just now beenreached.     Marsh finally fell into a troubled sleep that lasteduntil morning.     He woke early, before the alarm rang. He gotup, showered, pulled on his blue-corded cadet uniform,and tugged on the polished gray boots. Hetook one final look around his room as though infarewell, then went out to the kitchen.   11    His folks were up ahead of time too, trying toact as though it were just another day. Dad was pretendingto enjoy his morning paper, nodding onlycasually to Marsh as he came in. Mom was stirringscrambled eggs in the skillet, but she wasn’t a verygood actor, Marsh noticed, for she furtively wipedher eyes with her free hand.     The eggs were cooked too hard and the toast hadto be scraped, but no one seemed to care. The threeof them sat down at the table, still speaking inmonosyllables and of unimportant things. Theymade a pretense of eating.     “Well, Mom,” Dad suddenly said with a forcedjollity that was intended to break the tension, “theFarnsworth family has finally got a celebrity in it.”     “I don’t see why they don’t send an older man!”Mom burst out, as though she had been holding itin as long as she could. “Sending a boy who isn’teven twenty-two—”     “Things are different nowadays, Mom,” Dad explained,still with the assumed calmness thatmasked his real feelings. “These days, men growup faster and mature quicker. They’re stronger andmore alert than older men—” His voice trailed offas if he were unable to convince himself.     “      Some     body has to go,” Marsh said. “Why not ayounger man without family and responsibility?That’s why they’re giving younger men more opportunitiestoday than they used to.”     “It’s not younger men I’m talking about!” Momblurted. “It’s you, Marsh!”   12    Dad leaned over and patted Mom on the shoulder.“Now, Ruth, we promised not to get excitedthis morning.”     “I’m sorry,” Mom said weakly. “But Marsh is tooyoung to—” She caught herself and put her handover her mouth.     “Stop talking like that!” Dad said. “Marsh iscoming back. There’ve been thousands of rocketssent aloft. The space engineers have made sure thatevery bug has been ironed out before risking aman’s life. Why, that rocket which Marsh is goingup in is as safe as our auto in the garage, isn’t it,Marsh?”     “I hope so, Dad,” Marsh murmured.      Later, as Dad drove Marsh to the field, eachbrooded silently. Every scene along the way seemedto take on a new look for Marsh. He saw thingsthat he had never noticed before. It was an uncomfortablefeeling, almost as if he were seeing thesethings for the last as well as the first time.     Finally the airport came into view. The guardsat the gate recognized Marsh and ushered theFarnsworth car through ahead of scores of othersthat crowded the entrance. Some eager news photographersslipped up close and shot off flash bulbsin Marsh’s eyes.     Skyharbor, once a small commercial field, hadbeen taken over by the Air Force in recent yearsand converted into the largest rocket experimentalcenter in the United States.   13    Dad drove up to the building that would be thescene of Marsh’s first exhaustive tests and briefings.He stopped the car, and Marsh jumped out. Theirgood-by was brief. Marsh saw his father’s mouthquiver. There was a tightness in his own throat. Hehad gone through any number of grueling tests toprove that he could take the rigors of space, butnot one of them had prepared him for the hardestmoments of parting.     When Dad had driven off, Marsh reported firstto the psychiatrist who checked his condition.     “Pulse fast, a rise in blood pressure,” he said.“You’re excited, aren’t you, son?”     “Yes, sir,” Marsh admitted. “Maybe they’ve gotthe wrong man, sir. I might fail them.”     The doctor grinned. “They don’t have the wrongman,” he said. “They might have, with a so-callediron-nerved fellow. He could contain his tensionand fears until later, until maybe the moment ofblast-off. Then he’d let go, and when he needed hiscalmest judgment he wouldn’t have it. No, Marshall,there isn’t a man alive who could make thishistory-making flight without some anxiety. Forgetit. You’ll feel better as the day goes on. I’ll see youonce more before the blast-off.”     Marsh felt more at ease already. He went on tothe space surgeon, was given a complete physicalexamination, and was pronounced in perfect condition.Then began his review briefing on everythinghe would encounter during the flight.   14    Blast-off time was for 2230, an hour and a halfbefore midnight. Since at night, in the WesternHemisphere, Earth was masking the sun, the complicationsof excessive temperatures in the outerreaches were avoided during the time Marsh wouldbe outside the ship. Marsh would occupy the smallupper third section of a three-stage rocket. The firsttwo parts would be jettisoned after reaching theirpeak velocities. Top speed of the third stage wouldcarry Marsh into a perpetual-flight orbit aroundEarth, along the route that a permanent space stationwas to be built after the results of the flightwere studied. After spending a little while in thisorbit, Marsh would begin the precarious journeyback to Earth, in gliding flight.     He got a few hours of sleep after sunset. Whenan officer shook him, he rose from the cot he hadbeen lying on in a private room of General Forsythe,Chief of Space Operations.     “It’s almost time, son,” the officer said. “YourCO wants to see you in the outside office.”     Marsh went into the adjoining room and foundhis cadet chief awaiting him. The youth detected anunusual warmth about the severe gentleman whopreviously had shown only a firm, uncompromisingattitude. Colonel Tregasker was past middle age,and his white, sparse hair was smoothed down closeto his head in regulation neatness.   15    “Well, this is it, Marshall,” the colonel said.“How I envy you this honor of being the first humanto enter space. However, I do feel that a partof me is going along too, since I had a small sharein preparing you for the trip. If the training washarsh at times, I believe that shortly you willunderstand the reason for it.”     “I didn’t feel that the Colonel was either too softor strict, sir,” Marsh said diplomatically.     A speaker out on the brilliantly lit field blaredloudly in the cool desert night: “X minus fortyminutes.”     “We can’t talk all night, Marshall,” the colonelsaid briskly. “You’ve got a job to do. But first, a fewof your friends want to wish you luck.” He calledinto the anteroom, “You may come in, gentlemen!”     There filed smartly into the room ten youths whohad survived the hard prespace course with Marshand would be his successors in case he failed tonight.They formed a line and shook hands withMarsh. The first was Armen Norton who had gottensick in the rugged centrifuge at a force of 9 G’s,then had rallied to pass the test.     “Good luck, Marsh,” he said.     Next was lanky Lawrence Egan who had beencertain he would wash out during navigation phasein the planetarium. “All the luck in the world,Marsh,” he added.     Each cadet brought back a special memory of histraining as they passed before him, wishing himsuccess.   16    When they had gone and the speaker outsidehad announced: “X minus thirty minutes,” thecolonel said that he and Marsh had better be leaving.Colonel Tregasker was to be Marsh’s escort tothe ship.     Photographers and newspapermen swarmedabout them as they climbed into the jeep that wasto take them to the launching site farther out onthe field. Questions were flung at the two from allsides, but the colonel deftly maneuvered the jeepthrough the mob and sped off over the asphalt.     At the blast-off site, Marsh could see that thepolice had their hands full keeping out thousandsof spectators who were trying to get into the closed-offarea. The field was choked with a tide of humanitymilling about in wild confusion. Giant searchlights,both at the airport and in other parts ofPhoenix, directed spears of light on the toweringrocket that held the interest of all the world tonight.There was one light, far larger than the rest,with powerful condensing lenses and connected toa giant radar screen, which would guide Marshhome from his trip among the stars.     A high wire fence surrounded the launchingramp and blockhouses. International scientists anddignitaries with priorities formed a ring aroundthe fence, but even they were not allowed insidethe small circle of important activity. The guardswaved the colonel and Marsh through the gate.   17    Marsh had spent many weeks in a mock-up of thetiny third stage in which he was to spend his timealoft, but he had never been close to the completelyassembled ship until this moment. The three stageshad been nicknamed, “Tom,” “Dick,” and “Harry.”Marsh swallowed as his eyes roved up the side ofthe great vessel, part of a project that had cost millionsto perfect and was as high as a four-storybuilding.     The gigantic base, “Big Tom,” was the sectionthat would have the hardest job to do, that ofthrusting the rocket through the densest part of theatmosphere, and this was a great deal larger thanthe other sections. Marsh knew that most of theship’s bulk was made up of the propellant fuel ofhydrazine hydrate and its oxidizer, nitric acid.     “We’re going into that blockhouse over there,”Colonel Tregasker said. “You’ll don your space gearin there.”     First a multitude of gadgets with wires were fastenedto the cadet’s wrists, ankles, nose, and head.Marsh knew this to be one of the most importantphases of the flight—to find out a man’s reaction tospace flight under actual rocketing conditions. Eachwire would telemeter certain information by radioback to the airport. After a tight inner G suit hadbeen put on to prevent blackout, the plastic andrubber outer garment was zipped up around Marsh,and then he was ready except for his helmet, whichwould not be donned until later.   18    Marsh and the colonel went back outside. Theopen-cage elevator was lowered from the top of thebig latticed platform that surrounded the rocket.The two got into the cage, and it rose with them.Marsh had lost most of his anxiety and tensionduring the activities of the day, but his knees feltrubbery in these final moments as the elevator carriedhim high above the noisy confusion of the airport.      This was it.       As they stepped from the cage onto the platformof the third stage, Marsh heard the speaker belowcall out: “X minus twenty minutes.”     There were eleven engineers and workmen onthe platform readying the compartment that Marshwould occupy. Marsh suddenly felt helpless andalone as he faced the small chamber that mightvery well be his death cell. Its intricate dials andwires were staggering in their complexity.     Marsh turned and shook hands with Colonel Tregasker.“Good-by, sir,” he said in a quavering voice.“I hope I remember everything the Corps taughtme.” He tried to smile, but his facial musclestwitched uncontrollably.     “Good luck, son—lots of it,” the officer saidhuskily. Suddenly he leaned forward and embracedthe youth with a firm, fatherly hug. “This is notregulations,” he mumbled gruffly, “but hang regulations!”He turned quickly and asked to be carrieddown to the ground.     A man brought Marsh’s helmet and placed itover his head, then clamped it to the suit. Knobson the suit were twisted, and Marsh felt a warm,pressurized helium-oxygen mixture fill his suit andheadpiece.   19    Marsh stepped through the hatch into the smallcompartment. He reclined in the soft contourchair, and the straps were fastened by one of theengineers over his chest, waist, and legs. The wiresconnected to various parts of his body had beenbrought together into a single unit in the helmet.A wire cable leading from the panel was pluggedinto the outside of the helmet to complete the circuit.     Final tests were run off to make sure everythingwas in proper working order, including the two-wayshort-wave radio that would have to penetrate theelectrical ocean of the ionosphere. Then the double-hatchair lock was closed. Through his helmet receiver,Marsh could hear the final minutes and secondsbeing called off from inside the blockhouse.     “Everything O.K.?” Marsh was asked by someoneon the platform.     “Yes, sir,” Marsh replied.     “Then you’re on your own,” were the final ominouswords.     “X minus five minutes,” called the speaker.   20    It was the longest five minutes that Marsh couldremember. He was painfully aware of his crampedquarters. He thought of the tons of explosive beneathhim that presently would literally blow himsky-high. And he thought of the millions of peoplethe world over who, at this moment, were hoveringat radios and TV’s anxiously awaiting the dawn ofthe space age. Finally he thought of Dad and Mom,lost in that multitude of night watchers, and amongthe few who were not primarily concerned with thescientific aspect of the experiment. He wondered ifhe would ever see them again.     “X minus sixty seconds!”     Marsh knew that a warning flare was being sentup, to be followed by a whistle and a cloud ofsmoke from one of the blockhouses. As he felt feartrying to master him, he began reviewing all thethings he must remember and, above all, what todo in an emergency.     “X minus ten seconds—five—four—three—two—one—FIRE!”     There was a mighty explosion at Skyharbor.     The initial jolt which Marsh felt was much fiercerthan the gradually built up speed of the whirlingcentrifuge in training. He was crushed deeply intohis contour chair. It felt as though someone werepressing on his eyeballs; indeed, as if every organ inhis body were clinging to his backbone. But thesefirst moments would be the worst. A gauge showeda force of 7 G’s on him—equal to half a ton.     He watched the Mach numbers rise on the dialin front of his eyes on an overhead panel. EachMach number represented that much times thespeed of sound, 1,090 feet per second, 740 miles anhour.     Marsh knew “Big Tom” would blast for about aminute and a half under control of the automaticpilot, at which time it would drop free at an altitudeof twenty-five miles and sink Earthward in ametal mesh ’chute.   21    Marsh’s hurting eyes flicked to the outside temperaturegauge. It was on a steady 67 degrees belowzero Fahrenheit, and would be until he reachedtwenty miles. A reflecting prism gave him a squareof view of the sky outside. The clear deep blue ofthe cloud-free stratosphere met his eyes.     Mach 5, Mach 6, Mach 7 passed very quickly. Heheard a rumble and felt a jerk. “Big Tom” wasbreaking free. The first hurdle had been successfullyovercome, and the ship had already begun tiltinginto its trajectory.     There was a new surge of agony on his body asthe second stage picked up the acceleration at aforce of 7 G’s again. Marsh clamped his jaws as theforce pulled his lips back from his teeth anddragged his cheek muscles down. The Mach numberscontinued to rise—11, 12, 13—to altitude 200miles, the outer fringe of the earth’s atmosphere.There was a slight lifting of the pressure on hisbody. The rocket was still in the stratosphere, butthe sky was getting purple.     Mach 14—10,000 miles an hour.     “Dick” would jettison any moment. Marsh hadbeen aloft only about four minutes, but it hadseemed an age, every tortured second of it.   22    There was another rumble as the second stagebroke free. Marsh felt a new surge directly beneathhim as his own occupied section, “Harry,” beganblasting. It was comforting to realize he had successfullyweathered those tons of exploding hydrazineand acid that could have reduced him to nothingif something had gone wrong. Although hisspeed was still building up, the weight on himbegan to ease steadily as his body’s inertia finallyyielded to the sickeningly swift acceleration.     The speedometer needle climbed to Mach 21, thepeak velocity of the rocket, 16,000 miles per hour.His altitude was 350 miles—man’s highest ascent.Slowly then, the speedometer began to drop back.Marsh heard the turbo pumps and jets go silent asthe “lift” fuel was spent and rocket “Harry” beganits free-flight orbit around Earth.     The ship had reached a speed which exactlycounterbalanced the pull of gravity, and it could,theoretically, travel this way forever, provided noother outside force acted upon it. The effect onMarsh now was as if he had stopped moving. Relievedof the viselike pressure, his stomach andchest for a few seconds felt like inflated balloons.     “Cadet Farnsworth,” the voice of General Forsythespoke into his helmet receiver, “are you allright?”     “Yes, sir,” Marsh replied. “That is, I think so.”     It was good to hear a human voice again, somethingto hold onto in this crazy unreal world intowhich he had been hurtled.     “We’re getting the electronic readings from yourgauges O.K.,” the voice went on. “The doctor saysyour pulse is satisfactory under the circumstances.”     It was queer having your pulse read from 350miles up in the air.   23    Marsh realized, of course, that he was not trulyin the “air.” A glance at his air-pressure gauge confirmedthis. He was virtually in a vacuum. The temperatureand wind velocity outside might have astoundedhim if he were not prepared for the readings.The heat was over 2000 degrees Fahrenheit,and the wind velocity was of hurricane force! Butthese figures meant nothing because of the sparsenessof air molecules. Temperature and wind appliedonly to the individual particles, which werethousands of feet apart.     “How is your cosmic-ray count?” asked the general.     Marsh checked the C-ray counter on the panelfrom which clicking sounds were coming. “It’s low,sir. Nothing to worry about.”     Cosmic rays, the most powerful emanationsknown, were the only radiation in space that couldnot be protected against. But in small doses theyhad been found not to be dangerous.     “As soon as our recorders get more of the figuresyour telemeter is giving us,” the operations chiefsaid, “you can leave the rocket.”     When Marsh got the O.K. a few minutes later,he eagerly unstrapped the belts around his body.He could hardly contain his excitement at beingthe first person to view the globe of Earth fromspace. As he struggled to his feet, the lightness ofzero gravity made him momentarily giddy, and ittook some minutes for him to adjust to the terriblystrange sensation.   24    He had disconnected the cable leading from hishelmet to the ship’s transmitter and switched onthe ship’s fast-lens movie camera that would photographthe area covered by “Harry.” Then he wasready to go outside. He pressed a button on thewall, and the first air-lock hatch opened. He floatedinto the narrow alcove and closed the door in thecramped chamber behind him. He watched agauge, and when it showed normal pressure andtemperature again, he opened the outside hatch,closing it behind him. Had Marsh permitted thevacuum of space to contact the interior of theship’s quarters, delicate instruments would havebeen ruined by the sudden decompression and lossof heat. Marsh fastened his safety line to the shipso that there was no chance of his becoming separatedfrom it.     Then he looked “downward,” to experience thethrill of his life. Like a gigantic relief map, thepanorama of Earth stretched across his vision. Adowny blanket of gray atmosphere spread over thewhole of it, and patches of clouds were seen floatinglike phantom shapes beneath the clear vastnessof the stratosphere. It was a stunning sight forMarsh, seeing the pinpoint lights of the night citiesextending from horizon to horizon. It gave himan exhilarating feeling of being a king over it all.   25    Earth appeared to be rotating, but Marsh knewit was largely his own and the rocket’s fast speedthat was responsible for the illusion. As he hungin this region of the exosphere, he was thankful forhis cadet training in zero gravity. A special machine,developed only in recent years, simulatedthe weightlessness of space and trained the cadetsfor endurance in such artificial conditions.     “Describe some of the things you see, Marshall,”General Forsythe said over Marsh’s helmet receiver.“I’ve just cut in a recorder.”     “It’s a scene almost beyond description, sir,”Marsh said into the helmet mike. “The sky isthickly powdered with stars. The Milky Way is verydistinct, and I can make out lots of fuzzy spots thatmust be star clusters and nebulae and comets. Marsis like an extremely bright taillight, and the moonis so strong it hurts my eyes as much as the directsun does on earth.”     Marsh saw a faintly luminous blur pass beyondthe ship. It had been almost too sudden to catch.He believed it to be a meteor diving Earthward ata speed around forty-five miles a second. He reportedthis to the general.     As he brought his eyes down from the more distantfixtures of space to those closer by on Earth, astrange thing happened. He was suddenly seizedwith a fear of falling, although his zero-gravitytraining had been intended to prepare him againstthis very thing. A cold sweat come out over hisbody, and an uncontrollable panic threatened totake hold of him.   26    He made a sudden movement as though to catchhimself. Forgetting the magnification of motion infrictionless space and his own weightlessness, hewas shot quickly to the end of his safety line like acracked whip. His body jerked at the taut end andthen sped swiftly back in reaction toward the ship,head foremost. A collision could crack his helmet,exposing his body to decompression, causing himto swell like a balloon and finally explode.     In the grip of numbing fear, only at the last momentdid he have the presence of mind to fliphis body in a half-cartwheel and bring his boots upin front of him for protection. His feet bumpedagainst the rocket’s side, and the motion sent himhurtling back out to the end of the safety lineagain. This back-and-forth action occurred severaltimes before he could stop completely.     “I’ve got to be careful,” he panted to himself,as he thought of how close his space career hadcome to being ended scarcely before it had begun.     General Forsythe cut in with great concern, wonderingwhat had happened. When Marsh had explainedand the general seemed satisfied that Marshhad recovered himself, he had Marsh go on with hisdescription.     His senseless fear having gone now, Marsh lookeddown calmly, entranced as the features of theUnited States passed below his gaze. He named thecities he could identify, also the mountain ranges,lakes, and rivers, explaining just how they lookedfrom 350 miles up. In only a fraction of an hour’stime, the rocket had traversed the entire countryand was approaching the twinkling phosphorescenceof the Atlantic.   27    Marsh asked if “Tom” and “Dick” had landedsafely.     “‘Tom’ landed near Roswell, New Mexico,” GeneralForsythe told him, “and the ’chute of the secondsection has been reported seen north of Dallas.I think you’d better start back now, Marshall. It’lltake us many months to analyze all the informationwe’ve gotten. We can’t contact you very well on theother side of the world either, and thirdly, I don’twant you exposed to the sun’s rays outside theatmosphere in the Eastern Hemisphere any longerthan can be helped.”     Marsh tugged carefully on his safety line andfloated slowly back toward the ship. He enteredthe air lock. Then, inside, he raised the angle of hiscontour chair to upright position, facing the consoleof the ship’s manual controls for the glideEarthward. He plugged in his telemeter helmetcable and buckled one of the straps across his waist.     Since he was still moving at many thousands ofmiles an hour, it would be suicide to plungestraight downward. He and the glider would beturned into a meteoric torch. Rather, he wouldhave to spend considerable time soaring in and outof the atmosphere in braking ellipses until hereached much lower speed. Then the Earth’s gravitationalpull would do the rest.   28    This was going to be the trickiest part of the operation,and the most dangerous. Where before,Marsh had depended on automatic controls toguide him, now much of the responsibility was onhis own judgment. He remembered the manyhours he had sweated through to log his flyingtime. Now he could look back on that period in histraining and thank his lucky stars for it.     He took the manual controls and angled into theatmosphere. He carefully watched the AHF dial—theatmospheric heat friction gauge. When he hadneared the dangerous incendiary point, with theship having literally become red-hot, he soared intothe frictionless vacuum again. He had to keep thisup a long time in order to reduce his devastatingspeed.     It was something of a shock to him to leave theblack midnight of Earth’s slumbering side for thebrilliant hemisphere where the people of Europeand Asia were going about their daytime tasks. Hewould have liked to study this other half of theworld which he had glimpsed only a few times beforein his supersonic test flights, but he knew thiswould have to wait for future flights.     Finally, after a long time, his velocity was slowedenough so that the tug of gravity was stronger thanthe rocket’s ability to pull up out of the atmosphere.At this point, Marsh cut in “Harry’s” forwardbraking jets to check his falling speed.     “There’s something else to worry about,” hethought to himself. “Will old Harry hold togetheror will he fly apart in the crushing atmosphere?”   29    The directional radio signals from the powerfulSkyharbor transmitter were growing stronger asMarsh neared the shores of California. He couldsee the winking lights of San Diego and LosAngeles, and farther inland the swinging threadthat was the beacon at Skyharbor. All planes in hispath of flight had been grounded for the past fewhours because of the space flight. The only groundlight scanning the skies was the gigantic space beaconin Phoenix.     When Marsh reached Arizona, he began spiralingdownward over the state to kill the rest of hisaltitude and air speed. Even now the plane was ahurtling supersonic metal sliver streaking throughthe night skies like a comet. He topped the snow-cappedsummits of the towering San FranciscoPeaks on the drive southward, and he recognizedthe sprawling serpent of the Grand Canyon. Thenhe was in the lower desert regions of moon-splashedsand and cactus. Although the fire-hot temperatureof the outer skin had subsided, there had been damagedone to the walls and instruments, and possiblyto other parts, too. Marsh was worried lest his outsidecontrols might be too warped to give him agood touchdown, if indeed he could get down safelyat all.     A few thousand feet up, Marsh lowered his landinggear. Now the only problem left was to landhimself and the valuable ship safely inside the narrowparallels of the airstrip. He circled the airportseveral times as his altitude continued to plummet.   30    The meter fell rapidly. His braking rocket fuelwas gone now. From here on in, he would be ongliding power alone.     “Easy does it, Marshall,” the general said quietlyinto his ear. “You’re lining up fine. Level it out alittle and keep straight with the approach lights.That’s fine. You’re just about in.”     The lights of the airport seeming to rush up athim, Marsh felt a jolt as the wheels touched groundon the west end of the runway. He kept the shipsteady as it scurried along the smooth asphalt, losingthe last of its once tremendous velocity. Theplane hit the restraining wire across the strip andcame to a sudden stop, shoving Marsh hard againstthe single safety belt he wore. Finally, incredibly,the ship was still and he was safe.     He unfastened his strap and removed his spacehelmet. The heat of the compartment brought thesweat out on his face. He rose on wobbly legs andpressed the buttons to the hatches. The last doorflew open to admit the cool, bracing air of Earthwhich he had wondered if he would ever inhaleagain.     His aloneness was over then, suddenly and boisterously,as men swarmed over him with congratulations,eager questions, and looks of respect. Reporters’flash bulbs popped, and he felt like a newLindbergh as he was pulled down to the groundand mobbed. Finally the police came to his rescueand pushed back the curiosity seekers and newspapermen.Then only three men were allowedthrough the cordon.  <doc-sep>I began wondering why Walsh had gone to so much trouble to get rid ofme. The job, as I saw it, would take a hell of a long time. It seemedlike a silly thing to do, just to get even with a guy for somethingthat had happened years ago. He surely must have realized that I'd beback again, sooner or later. Maybe he had another little junket all setfor me.     Or maybe he didn't expect me to come back.     The thought hadn't occurred to me before this, and I began to considerit seriously. Walsh was no good, rotten clear through. He was failingat the job of keeping Mars in hand, and he probably realized that afew more mistakes on his part would mean the end of his career withSpace II. I chuckled as I thought of him isolated in some God-forsakenplace like Space V or Space VII. This probably bothered him a lot, too.But what probably bothered him more was the fact that I was next incommand. If he were transferred, I'd be in charge of Space II, and Icould understand how much that would appeal to Walsh.     I tried to figure the thing out sensibly, tried to weigh his goodpoints against his bad. But it all came back to the same thing. Aguy who would deliberately go to sleep on Boiler Watch with a ton ofuranium ready to blast a barracks to smithereens if it wasn't watched,would deliberately do just about anything.     Sending me off on a wild goose chase after a character named Joe mayhave been a gag. But it may have been something a little grimmer than agag, and I made up my mind to be extremely careful from here on in.     The guide arrived at fifteen hundred on the dot. He was tall,elongated, looked almost like all the other Venusians I'd seen so far.     I understand you need a Grade A guide, sir, he said.     Are you familiar with the jungle? I asked him.     Born and raised there, sir. Know it like the back of my hand.     Has Joe told you what the payment will be?     Yes, sir. A carton and a half of cigarettes.     I thought about Joe deducting his commission and smiled.     When can we leave?     Right away, sir. We won't need much really. I've made a list ofsupplies and I can get them in less than an hour. I suggest you wearlight clothing, boots, and a hat.     Will I need a weapon?     He looked at me, his eyes faintly amused. Why, what for, sir?     Never mind, I said. What's your name, by the way?     He lifted his eyebrows, and his eyes widened in his narrow face. He wasdefinitely surprised.     Joe, he said. Didn't you know?  <doc-sep>Llud sighed. He still couldn't say just why he had given the order toturn back. The stars had claimed his heart—but he was still a part ofEarth, and not even nine hundred years of space and time had been ableto alter that.     He wondered if there would still be a quiet stream and a greenshady place beside it where a death-weary man, relieved at last ofresponsibility, could rest and dream no more.... Those things wenton, if men didn't change them. And a pine forest where he and youngKnof could go camping, and lie on their backs at night and gaze at theglittering constellations, far away, out of reach.... He wasn't sure hewould want to do that, though.     Suddenly a faint cushioned jar went through the great ship; it seemedto falter one moment in flight.  <doc-sep>It was hard to believe I was traveling in space at last. Ahead andbehind me, all the way up to where the companionway curved in outof sight, there was nothing but smooth black wall and smooth whitedoors—on and on and on.      Gee     , I thought excitedly, this is      one bigship     !     Of course, every once in a while I would run across a big scene ofstars in the void set in the wall; but they were only pictures. Nothingthat gave the feel of great empty space like I'd read about in      The BoyRocketeers     , no portholes, no visiplates, nothing.     So when I came to the crossway, I stopped for a second, then turnedleft. To the right, see, there was Deck Four, then Deck Three, leadinginward past the engine fo'c'sle to the main jets and the grav helixgoing      purr-purr-purrty-purr     in the comforting way big machinery haswhen it's happy and oiled. But to the left, the crossway led all theway to the outside level which ran just under the hull. There wereportholes on the hull.     I'd studied all that out in our cabin, long before we'd lifted, onthe transparent model of the ship hanging like a big cigar from theceiling. Sis had studied it too, but she was looking for places likethe dining salon and the library and Lifeboat 68 where we should go incase of emergency. I looked for the      important     things.     As I trotted along the crossway, I sort of wished that Sis hadn'tdecided to go after a husband on a luxury liner. On a cargo ship, now,I'd be climbing from deck to deck on a ladder instead of having gravityunderfoot all the time just like I was home on the bottom of the Gulfof Mexico. But women always know what's right, and a boy can only makefaces and do what they say, same as the men have to do.     Still, it was pretty exciting to press my nose against the slots in thewall and see the sliding panels that could come charging out and blockthe crossway into an airtight fit in case a meteor or something smashedinto the ship. And all along there were glass cases with spacesuitsstanding in them, like those knights they used to have back in theMiddle Ages.     In the event of disaster affecting the oxygen content ofcompanionway, they had the words etched into the glass, break glasswith hammer upon wall, remove spacesuit and proceed to don it in thefollowing fashion.     I read the following fashion until I knew it by heart.      Boy     , I saidto myself,      I hope we have that kind of disaster. I'd sure like to getinto one of those! Bet it would be more fun than those diving suitsback in Undersea!       And all the time I was alone. That was the best part.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How did the first flight affect the characters in THE FIRST MAN INTO SPACE?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the location where the events of THE FIRST MAN INTO SPACE take place? [SEP] <s>The officer picked up the dollar bill and fingered it with evidentinterest. He turned it over and studied the printing. United States ofAmerica, he read aloud. What are those?     It's the name of the country I come from, Jeff said carefully.I—uh—got on the wrong train, apparently, and must have come furtherthan I thought. What's the name of this place?     This is Costa, West Goodland, in the Continental Federation. Say, youmust come from an umpty remote part of the world if you don't knowabout this country. His eyes narrowed. Where'd you learn to speakFederal, if you come from so far?     Jeff said helplessly, I can't explain, if you don't know about theUnited States. Listen, can you take me to a bank, or some place wherethey know about foreign exchange?     The policeman scowled. How'd you get into this country, anyway? Yougot immigrate clearance?     An angry muttering started among the bystanders.     The policeman made up his mind. You come with me.     At the police station, Jeff put his elbows dejectedly on the highcounter while the policeman talked to an officer in charge. Some menwhom Jeff took for reporters got up from a table and eased over tolisten.     I don't know whether to charge them with fakemake, bumsy, peekage orlunate, the policeman said as he finished.     His superior gave Jeff a long puzzled stare.     Jeff sighed. I know it sounds impossible, but a man brought me insomething he claimed was a time traveler. You speak the same language Ido—more or less—but everything else is kind of unfamiliar. I belongin the United States, a country in North America. I can't believe I'mso far in the future that the United States has been forgotten.     There ensued a long, confused, inconclusive interrogation.     The man behind the desk asked questions which seemed stupid to Jeff andgot answers which probably seemed stupid to him.     The reporters quizzed Jeff gleefully. Come out, what are youadvertising? they kept asking. Who got you up to this?     The police puzzled over his driver's license and the other cards in hiswallet. They asked repeatedly about the lack of a Work License, whichJeff took to be some sort of union card. Evidently there was gravedoubt that he had any legal right to be in the country.     In the end, Jeff and Ann were locked in separate cells for the night.Jeff groaned and pounded the bars as he thought of his wife, imprisonedand alone in a smelly jail. After hours of pacing the cell, he lay downin the cot and reached automatically for his silver pillbox. Then hehesitated.     In past weeks, his insomnia had grown worse and worse, so that latelyhe had begun taking stronger pills. After a longing glance at thebig red and yellow capsules, he put the box away. Whatever tomorrowbrought, it wouldn't find him slow and drowsy.      IV     He passed a wakeful night. In the early morning, he looked up to see alittle man with a briefcase at his cell door.     Wish joy, Mr. Elliott, the man said coolly. I am one of Mr. Bullen'sbarmen. You know, represent at law? He sent me to arrange your release,if you are ready to be reasonable.     Jeff lay there and put his hands behind his head. I doubt if I'mready. I'm comfortable here. By the way, how did you know where I was?     No problem. When we read in this morning's newspapers about a manclaiming to be a time traveler, we knew.     All right. Now start explaining. Until I understand where I am, Bullenisn't getting me out of here.     The lawyer smiled and sat down. Mr. Kersey told you yesterday—you'vegone back six years. But you'll need some mental gymnastics tounderstand. Time is a dimension, not a stream of events like a moviefilm. A film never changes. Space does—and time does. For example, ifa movie showed a burning house at Sixth and Main, would you expect tofind a house burning whenever you returned to that corner?     You mean to say that if I went back to 1865, I wouldn't find the CivilWar was over and Lincoln had been assassinated?     If you go back to the time you call 1865—which is most easilydone—you will find that the people there know nothing of a Lincoln orthat war.     Jeff looked blank. What are they doing then?     The little man spread his hands. What are the people doing now atSixth and Main? Certainly not the same things they were doing the dayof the fire. We're talking about a dimension, not an event. Don't yougrasp the difference between the two?     Nope. To me, 1865 means the end of the Civil War. How else can youspeak of a point in time except by the events that happened then?     Well, if you go to a place in three-dimensional space—say, a lakein the mountains—how do you identify that place? By looking forlandmarks. It doesn't matter that an eagle is soaring over a mountainpeak. That's only an event. The peak is the landmark. You follow me?     So far. Keep talking.  <doc-sep>Purnie worked his way down the hill, imploring them to save themselves.The sounds they made carried a new tone, a desperate foreboding ofdeath.     Rhodes! Cabot! Can you hear me?     I—I can't move, Captain. My leg, it's.... My God, we're going todrown!     Look around you, Cabot. Can you see anyone moving?     The men on the beach are nearly buried, Captain. And the rest of ushere in the water—     Forbes. Can you see Forbes? Maybe he's— His sounds were cut off by awavelet gently rolling over his head.     Purnie could wait no longer. The tides were all but covering one of theanimals, and soon the others would be in the same plight. Disregardingthe consequences, he ordered time to stop.     Wading down into the surf, he worked a log off one victim, then hetugged the animal up to the sand. Through blinding tears, Purnie workedslowly and carefully. He knew there was no hurry—at least, not as faras his friends' safety was concerned. No matter what their conditionof life or death was at this moment, it would stay the same way untilhe started time again. He made his way deeper into the orange liquid,where a raised hand signalled the location of a submerged body. Thehand was clutching a large white banner that was tangled among thelogs. Purnie worked the animal free and pulled it ashore.     It was the one who had been carrying the shiny object that spit smoke.     Scarcely noticing his own injured leg, he ferried one victim afteranother until there were no more in the surf. Up on the beach, hestarted unraveling the logs that pinned down the animals caught there.He removed a log from the lap of one, who then remained in a sittingposition, his face contorted into a frozen mask of agony and shock.Another, with the weight removed, rolled over like an iron statue intoa new position. Purnie whimpered in black misery as he surveyed thechaotic scene before him.     At last he could do no more; he felt consciousness slipping away fromhim.     He instinctively knew that if he lost his senses during a period oftime-stopping, events would pick up where they had left off ... withouthim. For Purnie, this would be death. If he had to lose consciousness,he knew he must first resume time.     Step by step he plodded up the little hill, pausing every now and thento consider if this were the moment to start time before it was toolate. With his energy fast draining away, he reached the top of theknoll, and he turned to look down once more on the group below.     Then he knew how much his mind and body had suffered: when he orderedtime to resume, nothing happened.     His heart sank. He wasn't afraid of death, and he knew that if he diedthe oceans would roll again and his friends would move about. But hewanted to see them safe.     He tried to clear his mind for supreme effort. There was no      urging     time to start. He knew he couldn't persuade it by bits and pieces,first slowly then full ahead. Time either progressed or it didn't. Hehad to take one viewpoint or the other.     Then, without knowing exactly when it happened, his mind tookcommand....  <doc-sep>   IT WAS A DULL, ROUTINE LITTLE     WORLD. IT DIDN'T EVEN HAVE A     CITY. EVERYTHING IT HAD WAS     IN THE GARDEN     BY R. A. LAFFERTY     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, March 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The protozoic recorder chirped like a bird. Not only would there belife traces on that little moon, but it would be a lively place. Sothey skipped several steps in the procedure.     The chordata discerner read      Positive     over most of the surface. Therewas spinal fluid on that orb, rivers of it. So again they omittedseveral tests and went to the cognition scanner. Would it show Thoughton the body?     Naturally they did not get results at once, nor did they expect to; itrequired a fine adjustment. But they were disappointed that they foundnothing for several hours as they hovered high over the rotation. Thenit came—clearly and definitely, but from quite a small location only.     Limited, said Steiner, as though within a pale. As though there werebut one city, if that is its form. Shall we follow the rest of thesurface to find another, or concentrate on this? It'll be twelve hoursbefore it's back in our ken if we let it go now.     Let's lock on this one and finish the scan. Then we can do the rest ofthe world to make sure we've missed nothing, said Stark.     There was one more test to run, one very tricky and difficult ofanalysis, that with the Extraordinary Perception Locator. This wasdesigned simply to locate a source of superior thought. But this mightbe so varied or so unfamiliar that often both the machine and thedesigner of it were puzzled as to how to read the results.     The E. P. Locator had been designed by Glaser. But when the Locatorhad refused to read      Positive     when turned on the inventor himself,bad blood developed between machine and man. Glaser knew that he hadextraordinary perception. He was a much honored man in his field. Hetold the machine so heatedly.     The machine replied, with such warmth that its relays chattered, thatGlaser did      not     have extraordinary perception; he had only ordinaryperception to an extraordinary degree. There is a      difference     , themachine insisted.     It was for this reason that Glaser used that model no more, but builtothers more amenable. And it was for this reason also that the ownersof Little Probe had acquired the original machine so cheaply.     And there was no denying that the Extraordinary Perception Locator (orEppel) was a contrary machine. On Earth it had read      Positive     on anumber of crack-pots, including Waxey Sax, a jazz tootler who could noteven read music. But it had also read      Positive     on ninety per cent ofthe acknowledged superior minds of the Earth. In space it had been asound guide to the unusual intelligences encountered. Yet on Suzuki-Miit had read      Positive     on a two-inch-long worm, only one of them out ofbillions. For the countless identical worms no trace of anything at allwas shown by the test.     So it was with mixed expectations that Steiner locked onto the areaand got a flick. He then narrowed to a smaller area (apparently oneindividual, though this could not be certain) and got very definiteaction. Eppel was busy. The machine had a touch of the ham in it, andassumed an air of importance when it ran these tests.     Finally it signaled the result, the most exasperating result it everproduces: the single orange light. It was the equivalent of the shrugof the shoulders in a man. They called it the You tell      me     light.     So among the intelligences there was at least one that might beextraordinary, though possibly in a crackpot way. It is good to beforewarned.  <doc-sep>At first glance Theodor thought the Deep Space Bar was empty. Then hesaw a figure hunched monkeylike on the last stool, almost lost in theblue shadows, while behind the bar, her crystal dress blending with thetiers of sparkling glasses, stood a grave-eyed young girl who couldhardly have been fifteen.     The TV was saying, ... in addition, a number of mysteriousdisappearances of high-rating individuals have been reported. Theseare thought to be cases of misunderstanding, illusory apprehension,and impulse traveling—a result of the unusual stresses of the time.Finally, a few suggestible individuals in various parts of the globe,especially the Indian Peninsula, have declared themselves to be 'gods'and in some way responsible for current events.     It is thought—     The girl switched off the TV and took Theodor's order, explainingcasually, Joe wanted to go to a Kometevskyite meeting, so I took overfor him. When she had prepared Theodor's highball, she announced,I'll have a drink with you gentlemen, and squeezed herself a glass ofpomegranate juice.     The monkeylike figure muttered, Scotch-and-soda, then turned towardEdmund and asked, And what is your reaction to all this, sir?  <doc-sep>  Well, the old boy pursued, intohis subject now, that's where they'dbe, places like the      Oktoberfest     . Forone thing, a time traveler wouldn'tbe conspicuous. At a festival like thissomebody with a strange accent, orwho didn't know exactly how to wearhis clothes correctly, or was off theordinary in any of a dozen otherways, wouldn't be noticed. You couldbe a four-armed space traveler fromMars, and you still wouldn't be conspicuousat the      Oktoberfest     . Peoplewould figure they had D.T.'s.     But why would a time travelerwant to go to a— Betty began.     Why not! What better opportunityto study a people than when theyare in their cups? If      you     could goback a few thousand years, the thingsyou would wish to see would be aRoman Triumph, perhaps the Ritesof Dionysus, or one of Alexander'sorgies. You wouldn't want to wanderup and down the streets of, say,Athens while nothing was going on,particularly when you might be revealedas a suspicious character notbeing able to speak the language, notknowing how to wear the clothes andnot familiar with the city's layout.He took a deep breath. No ma'am,you'd have to stick to some greatevent, both for the sake of actualinterest and for protection against beingunmasked.     The old boy wound it up. Well,that's the story. What are your rates?The      Oktoberfest     starts on Friday andcontinues for sixteen days. You cantake the plane to Munich, spend aweek there and—     Simon was shaking his head. Notinterested.     As soon as Betty had got her jawback into place, she glared unbelievinglyat him.     Mr. Oyster was taken aback himself.See here, young man, I realizethis isn't an ordinary assignment,however, as I said, I am willing torisk a considerable portion of myfortune—     Sorry, Simon said. Can't bedone.     A hundred dollars a day plus expenses,Mr. Oyster said quietly. Ilike the fact that you already seemto have some interest and knowledgeof the matter. I liked the way youknew my name when I walked in thedoor; my picture doesn't appear oftenin the papers.     No go, Simon said, a sad qualityin his voice.     A fifty thousand dollar bonus ifyou bring me a time traveler.     Out of the question, Simonsaid.     But      why     ? Betty wailed.     Just for laughs, Simon told thetwo of them sourly, suppose I tellyou a funny story. It goes likethis:      I got a thousand dollars from Mr.Oyster (Simon began) in the wayof an advance, and leaving him withBetty who was making out a receipt,I hustled back to the apartment andpacked a bag. Hell, I'd wanted a vacationanyway, this was a natural. Onthe way to Idlewild I stopped off atthe Germany Information Offices forsome tourist literature.     It takes roughly three and a halfhours to get to Gander from Idlewild.I spent the time planning thefun I was going to have.     It takes roughly seven and a halfhours from Gander to Shannon andI spent that time dreaming up materialI could put into my reports toMr. Oyster. I was going to have togive him some kind of report for hismoney. Time travel yet! What alaugh!     Between Shannon and Munich afaint suspicion began to simmer inmy mind. These statistics I read onthe      Oktoberfest     in the Munich touristpamphlets. Five million peopleattended annually.     Where did five million peoplecome from to attend an overgrownfestival in comparatively remoteSouthern Germany? The tourist seasonis over before September 21st,first day of the gigantic beer bust.Nor could the Germans account forany such number. Munich itself hasa population of less than a million,counting children.     And those millions of gallons ofbeer, the hundreds of thousands ofchickens, the herds of oxen. Whoponied up all the money for such expenditures?How could the averageGerman, with his twenty-five dollarsa week salary?     In Munich there was no hotelspace available. I went to the Bahnhofwhere they have a hotel serviceand applied. They put my namedown, pocketed the husky bribe,showed me where I could check mybag, told me they'd do what theycould, and to report back in a fewhours.     I had another suspicious twinge.If five million people attended thisbeer bout, how were they accommodated?     The      Theresienwiese     , the fairground, was only a few blocksaway. I was stiff from the plane rideso I walked. <doc-sep>It was hard to believe I was traveling in space at last. Ahead andbehind me, all the way up to where the companionway curved in outof sight, there was nothing but smooth black wall and smooth whitedoors—on and on and on.      Gee     , I thought excitedly, this is      one bigship     !     Of course, every once in a while I would run across a big scene ofstars in the void set in the wall; but they were only pictures. Nothingthat gave the feel of great empty space like I'd read about in      The BoyRocketeers     , no portholes, no visiplates, nothing.     So when I came to the crossway, I stopped for a second, then turnedleft. To the right, see, there was Deck Four, then Deck Three, leadinginward past the engine fo'c'sle to the main jets and the grav helixgoing      purr-purr-purrty-purr     in the comforting way big machinery haswhen it's happy and oiled. But to the left, the crossway led all theway to the outside level which ran just under the hull. There wereportholes on the hull.     I'd studied all that out in our cabin, long before we'd lifted, onthe transparent model of the ship hanging like a big cigar from theceiling. Sis had studied it too, but she was looking for places likethe dining salon and the library and Lifeboat 68 where we should go incase of emergency. I looked for the      important     things.     As I trotted along the crossway, I sort of wished that Sis hadn'tdecided to go after a husband on a luxury liner. On a cargo ship, now,I'd be climbing from deck to deck on a ladder instead of having gravityunderfoot all the time just like I was home on the bottom of the Gulfof Mexico. But women always know what's right, and a boy can only makefaces and do what they say, same as the men have to do.     Still, it was pretty exciting to press my nose against the slots in thewall and see the sliding panels that could come charging out and blockthe crossway into an airtight fit in case a meteor or something smashedinto the ship. And all along there were glass cases with spacesuitsstanding in them, like those knights they used to have back in theMiddle Ages.     In the event of disaster affecting the oxygen content ofcompanionway, they had the words etched into the glass, break glasswith hammer upon wall, remove spacesuit and proceed to don it in thefollowing fashion.     I read the following fashion until I knew it by heart.      Boy     , I saidto myself,      I hope we have that kind of disaster. I'd sure like to getinto one of those! Bet it would be more fun than those diving suitsback in Undersea!       And all the time I was alone. That was the best part.  <doc-sep>When it came over the hastily established camp, the rocket was low,obviously looking for a landing site. It was a military craft, from theoutpost on the near moon, and forward, near the nose, there was theblazoned emblem of the Ninth Fleet. The rocket roared directly overExtrone's tent, turned slowly, spouting fuel expensively, and settledinto the scrub forest, turning the vegetation beneath it sere by itsblasts.     Extrone sat on an upholstered stool before his tent and spatdisgustedly and combed his beard with his blunt fingers.     Shortly, from the direction of the rocket, a group of four high-rankingofficers came out of the forest, heading toward him. They were spruce,the officers, with military discipline holding their waists in andknees almost stiff.     What in hell do you want? Extrone asked.     They stopped a respectful distance away. Sir.... one began.     Haven't I told you gentlemen that rockets frighten the game? Extronedemanded, ominously not raising his voice.     Sir, the lead officer said, it's another alien ship. It was sighteda few hours ago, off this very planet, sir.     Extrone's face looked much too innocent. How did it get there,gentlemen? Why wasn't it destroyed?     We lost it again, sir. Temporarily, sir.     So? Extrone mocked.     We thought you ought to return to a safer planet, sir. Until we couldlocate and destroy it.     Extrone stared at them for a space. Then, indifferently, he turnedaway, in the direction of a resting bearer. You! he said. Hey! Bringme a drink! He faced the officers again. He smiled maliciously. I'mstaying here.     The lead officer licked his firm lower lip. But, sir....     Extrone toyed with his beard. About a year ago, gentlemen, there wasan alien ship around here then, wasn't there? And you destroyed it,didn't you?     Yes, sir. When we located it, sir.     You'll destroy this one, too, Extrone said.     We have a tight patrol, sir. It can't slip through. But it might try along range bombardment, sir.  <doc-sep>At the end of the corridor, Kane stopped before a blank wall. The sweaton his face glistened dully; his chest rose and fell rapidly. Kane wasa pilot and one of the prerequisites for the job of guiding tons ofmetal between Earth and the Moon was a good set of nerves. Kane excitedeasily, his temper was fiery, but his nerves were like steel.     The end of the line, he grunted.     As though to disprove the statement, a door on his right side openedsoundlessly.     He went through the doorway as if shoved violently by an invisible hand.     The door closed behind him.     Marie threw herself at the door and beat at the metal. Harry!     Verana rushed to her side. Another door on the opposite side of thecorridor opened silently. The door was behind them; they didn't notice.     Before I could warn them, Marie floated across the corridor, throughthe doorway.     Verana and I stared at the darkness beyond the opening, our musclesfrozen by shock.     The door closed behind Marie's screaming, struggling form.     Verana's face was white with fear. Apprehensively, she glanced at theother doors that lined the hall.     I put my arms around her, held her close.     Antigravity machines, force rays, I suggested worriedly.     For several minutes, we remained motionless and silent. I recalled thepreceding events of the day, searched for a sense of normality in them.The Kanes, Miller, Verana and I lived in Lunar City with hundreds ofother people. Mankind had inhabited the Moon for over a year. Meansof recreation were scarce. Many people explored the place to amusethemselves. After supper, we had decided to take a walk. As simple asthat: a walk on the Moon.     We had expected only the familiar craters, chasms and weird rockformations. A twist of fate and here we were: imprisoned in an alienship.     My legs quivered with fatigue, my heart throbbed heavily, Verana'sperfume dizzied me. No, it wasn't a dream. Despite our incrediblesituation, there was no sensation of unreality.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the location where the events of THE FIRST MAN INTO SPACE take place?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How does the story delve into the theme of accountability? [SEP] <s>Outside in the corridor, Magnan came up to Retief, who stood talking toa tall man in a pilot's coverall.     I'll be tied up, sending through full details on my—our—yourrecruiting theme, Retief, Magnan said. Suppose you run into the cityto assist the new Verpp Consul in settling in.     I'll do that, Mr. Magnan. Anything else?     Magnan raised his eyebrows. You're remarkably compliant today, Retief.I'll arrange transportation.     Don't bother, Mr. Magnan. Cy here will run me over. He was the pilotwho ferried us over to Roolit I, you recall.     I'll be with you as soon as I pack a few phone numbers, Retief, thepilot said. He moved off. Magnan followed him with a disapproving eye.An uncouth sort, I fancied. I trust you're not consorting with hiskind socially.     I wouldn't say that, exactly, Retief said. We just want to go over afew figures together.   <doc-sep>I dashed into the workshop and punched the recall button as hard as Icould, swearing under my breath. How long had this been going on? Ipunched the button again, viciously, and waited.     George Prime didn't come out.     It was plenty cold out in the workshop that night and I didn't sleepa wink. About dawn, out came George Prime, looking like a man with afour-day hangover.     Our conversation got down to fundamentals. George Prime kept insistingblandly that, according to my own directions, he was to pick the firstlogical opportunity to come out when I buzzed, and that was exactlywhat he'd done.     I was furious all the way to work. I'd take care of this nonsense, allright. I'd have George Prime rewired from top to bottom as soon as thelaboratory could take him.     But I never phoned the laboratory. The bank was calling me when I gotto the office. They wanted to know what I planned to do about thatcheck of mine that had just bounced.     What check? I asked.     The one you wrote to cash yesterday—five hundred dollars—againstyour regular account, Mr. Faircloth.     The last I'd looked, I'd had about three thousand dollars in thataccount. I told the man so rather bluntly.     Oh, no, sir. That is, you      did     until last week. But all these checksyou've been cashing have emptied the account.     He flashed the checks on the desk screen. My signature was on every oneof them.     What about my special account? I'd learned long before that anaccount Marge didn't know about was sound rear-guard strategy.     That's been closed out for two weeks.     I hadn't written a check against that account for over a year! I glaredat the ceiling and tried to think things through.     I came up with a horrible thought.     Marge had always had her heart set on a trip to Bermuda. Just to getaway from it all, she'd say. A second honeymoon.     I got a list of travel agencies from the business directory and starteddown them. The third one I tried had a pleasant tenor voice. No, sir,not      Mrs.     Faircloth.      You     bought two tickets. One way. Champagneflight to Bermuda.     When? I choked out.     Why, today, as a matter of fact. It leaves Idlewild at eleveno'clock—     I let him worry about my amnesia and started home fast. I didn't knowwhat they'd given that Prime for circuits, but there was no questionnow that he was out of control—      way     out of control. And poor Marge,all worked up for a second honeymoon—     Then it struck me. Poor Marge? Poor sucker George! No Prime in hisright circuits would behave this way without some human guidance andthat meant only one thing: Marge had spotted him. It had happenedbefore. Couple of nasty court battles I'd read about. And she'd knownall about George Prime.       For how long?    <doc-sep>The agent of the AEC whose name I can never remember was present alongwith Tony Carmen the night my assistants finished with the work I hadoutlined.     While it was midnight outside, the fluorescents made the scene morevisible than sunlight. My Disexpendable was a medium-sized drum in atripod frame with an unturned coolie's hat at the bottom.     Breathlessly, I closed the switch and the scooped disc began slowly torevolve.     Is it my imagination, the agent asked, or is it getting cooler inhere?     Professor. Carmen gave me a warning nudge.     There was now something on the revolving disc. It was a bar of someshiny gray metal.     Kill the power, Professor, Carmen said.     Can it be, I wondered, that the machine is somehow recreating ordrawing back the processed material from some other time or dimension?     Shut the thing off, Venetti! the racketeer demanded.     But too late.     There was now a somewhat dead man sitting in the saddle of the turningcircle of metal.     If Harry Keno had only been sane when he turned up on thatmerry-go-round in Boston I feel we would have learned much of immensevalue on the nature of time and space.     As it is, I feel that it is a miscarriage of justice to hold me inconnection with the murders I am sure Tony Carmen did commit.     I hope this personal account when published will end the viciousstory supported by the district attorney that it was I who sought TonyCarmen out and offered to dispose of his enemies and that I sought hisfinancial backing for the exploitation of my invention.     This is the true, and only true, account of the development of themachine known as the Expendable.     I am only sorry, now that the temperature has been standardized oncemore, that the Expendable's antithesis, the Disexpendable, is of toolow an order of efficiency to be of much value as a power source inthese days of nuclear and solar energy. So the world is again stuckwith the problem of waste disposal ... including all that I dumpedbefore. But as a great American once said, you can't win 'em all.     If you so desire, you may send your generous and fruitful letterstowards my upcoming defense in care of this civic-minded publication.  <doc-sep>I really haven't the time to waste talking irrelevancies, Swarts saida while later. Honestly. Maitland, I'm working against a time limit.If you'll cooperate, I'll tell Ching to answer your questions.'     Ching?     Ingrid Ching is the girl who has been bringing you your meals.     Maitland considered a moment, then nodded. Swarts lowered the projectorto his eyes again, and this time the engineer did not resist.     That evening, he could hardly wait for her to come. Too excited to sitand watch the sunset, he paced interminably about the room, sometimeswhistling nervously, snapping his fingers, sitting down and jitteringone leg. After a while he noticed that he was whistling the same themeover and over: a minute's thought identified it as that exuberantmounting phrase which recurs in the finale of Beethoven's NinthSymphony.     He forgot about it and went on whistling. He was picturing himselfaboard a ship dropping in toward Mars, making planetfall at SyrtisMajor; he was seeing visions of Venus and the awesome beauty of Saturn.In his mind, he circled the Moon, and viewed the Earth as a huge brightglobe against the constellations....     Finally the door slid aside and she appeared, carrying the usual trayof food. She smiled at him, making dimples in her golden skin andrevealing a perfect set of teeth, and put the tray on the table.     I think you are wonderful, she laughed. You get everything youwant, even from Swarts, and I have not been able to get even a littleof what I want from him. I want to travel in time, go back to your 20thCentury. And I wanted to talk with you, and he would not let me. Shelaughed again, hands on her rounded hips. I have never seen him soirritated as he was this noon.     Maitland urged her into the chair and sat down on the edge of the bed.Eagerly he asked, Why the devil do you want to go to the 20th Century?Believe me, I've been there, and what I've seen of this world looks alot better.     She shrugged. Swarts says that I want to go back to the Dark Age ofTechnology because I have not adapted well to modern culture. Myself,I think I have just a romantic nature. Far times and places look moreexciting....     How do you mean— Maitland wrinkled his brow—adapt to modernculture? Don't tell me      you're     from another time!     Oh, no! But my home is Aresund, a little fishing village at the headof a fiord in what you would call Norway. So far north, we are muchbehind the times. We live in the old way, from the sea, speak the oldtongue.  <doc-sep>It wasn't very big, the thing that had been his shining dream. It laythere in its rough cradle, a globe of raw dura-steel not more thanfive hundred meters in diameter, where the      Citadel     was to have been athousand. It wouldn't house a hundred scientists, eagerly delving intothe hinterland of research. The huge compartments weren't filled withthe latest equipment for chemical and physical experiment; instead,there was compressed oxygen there, and concentrated food, enough tolast a lifetime.     It was a new world, all by itself; or else it was a tomb. And there wasone other change, one that you couldn't see from the outside. The solidmeters of lead in its outer skin, the shielding to keep out cosmicrays, were gone.     A man had just finished engraving the final stroke on its nameplate, tothe left of the airlock—      The Avenger     . He stepped away now, and joinedthe group a little distance away, silently waiting.     Lorelei said, You can't do it. I won't let you! Peter—     Darling, he began wearily.     Don't throw your life away! Give us time—there must be another way.     There's no other way, Peter said. He gripped her arms tightly, as ifhe could compel her to understand by the sheer pressure of his fingers.Darling, listen to me. We've tried everything. We've gone underground,but that's only delaying the end.      They     still come down here, only notas many. The mortality rate is up, the suicide rate is up, the birthrate is down, in spite of anything we can do. You've seen the figures:we're riding a curve that ends in extinction fifty years from now.     They'll live, and we'll die, because they're a superior race. We're amillion years too far back even to understand what they are or wherethey came from. Besides them, we're apes. There's only one answer.     She was crying now, silently, with great racking sobs that shook herslender body. But he went remorselessly on.     Out there, in space, the cosmics change unshielded life. Theymake tentacles out of arms; or scales out of hair; or twelve toes,or a dozen ears—or a better brain. Out of those millions ofpossible mutations, there's one that will save the human race. Wecan't fight      them     , but a superman could. That's our only chance.Lorelei—darling—don't you see that?     She choked, But why can't you take me along?     He stared unseeingly past her wet, upturned face. You know why, hesaid bitterly. Those rays are strong. They don't only work on embryos;they change adult life forms, too. I have one chance in seven ofstaying alive. You'd have one chance in a million of staying beautiful.I couldn't stand that. I'd kill myself, and then humanity would die,too. You'd be their murderer.     Her sobs gradually died away. She straightened slowly until he nolonger had to support her, but all the vitality and resilience was goneout of her body. All right, she said in a lifeless voice. You'llcome back, Peter.     He turned away suddenly, not trusting himself to kiss her goodbye. Aline from an old film kept echoing through his head.       They'll     comeback—but not as      boys     !     We'll come back, but not as men.     We'll come back, but not as elephants.     We'll come back, but not as octopi.  <doc-sep>Orison extended her hand as into a furnace. Dink brushed theMicrofabridus from his palm to hers. It felt crisp and hard, likea legged grain of sand. Dink took a magnifier from his pocket andunfolded it, to hold it over Orison's palm.     He's like a baby crawdad, Orison said.     A sort of crustacean, Dink agreed. We use them in a commercialprocess we're developing. That's why we keep this floor closed off andsecret. We don't have a patent on the use of Microfabridae, you see.     What do they do? Orison asked.     That's still a secret, Dink said, smiling. I can't tell even youthat, not yet, even though you're my most confidential secretary.     What's he doing now? Orison asked, watching the Microfabridus,perched up on the rear four of his six microscopic legs, scratchingagainst her high-school class-ring with his tiny chelae.     They like gold, Dink explained, peering across her shoulder,comfortably close. They're attracted to it by a chemical tropism, aschildren are attracted to candy. Toss him back into his tank, Orison.We'd better get you down where you belong.     Orison brushed the midget crustacean off her finger into the nearesttank, where he joined the busy boil of his fellows. She felt her ring.It was pitted where the Microfabridus had been nibbling. Strange,using crawdads in a bank, she said. She stood silent for a moment. Ithought I heard music, she said. I heard it when I came in. Somethinglike the sighing of wind in winter trees.     That's the hymn of the Microfabridae, Dink said. They all singtogether while they work, a chorus of some twenty million voices. Hetook her arm. If you listen very carefully, you'll find the song theselittle workers sing the most beautiful music in the world.     Orison closed her eyes, leaning back into Dink's arms, listening tothe music that seemed on the outermost edge of her hearing. Wildness,storm and danger were its theme, counterpointed by promises of peaceand harbor. She heard the wash of giant waves in the song, the crashof breakers against granite, cold and insatiable. And behind this, thequiet of sheltered tide-pools, the soft lub of sea-arms landlocked.It's an ancient song, Dink said. The Microfabridae have beensinging it for a million years. He released her, and opened awood-covered wooden box. He scooped up a cupful of the sand inside.Hold out your hands, he told Orison. He filled them with the sand.Throw our singers some supper for their song, he said.     Orison went with her cupped hands to the nearest tank and sprinkled themineral fishfood around inside it. The Microfabridae leaped from theliquid like miniature porpoises, seizing the grains of sand in mid-air.They're so very strange, Orison said. At the bottom of the tank shethought she saw Ben Franklin again, winking at her through the bubblinglife. Nonsense, she thought, brushing her hands.  <doc-sep>   CALL HIM NEMESIS     By DONALD E. WESTLAKE     Criminals, beware; the Scorpion is on     your trail! Hoodlums fear his fury—and,     for that matter, so do the cops!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The man with the handkerchief mask said, All right, everybody, keeptight. This is a holdup.     There were twelve people in the bank. There was Mr. Featherhall athis desk, refusing to okay a personal check from a perfect stranger.There was the perfect stranger, an itinerant garage mechanic namedRodney (Rod) Strom, like the check said. There were Miss English andMiss Philicoff, the girls in the gilded teller cages. There was MisterAnderson, the guard, dozing by the door in his brown uniform. There wasMrs. Elizabeth Clayhorn, depositing her husband's pay check in theirjoint checking account, and with her was her ten-year-old son Edward(Eddie) Clayhorn, Junior. There was Charlie Casale, getting ten dollarsdimes, six dollars nickels and four dollars pennies for his fatherin the grocery store down the street. There was Mrs. Dolly Daniels,withdrawing money from her savings account again. And there were threebank robbers.     The three bank robbers looked like triplets. From the ground up, theyall wore scuffy black shoes, baggy-kneed and unpressed khaki trousers,brown cracked-leather jackets over flannel shirts, white handkerchiefsover the lower half of their faces and gray-and-white check caps pulledlow over their eyes. The eyes themselves looked dangerous.     The man who had spoken withdrew a small but mean-looking thirty-twocalibre pistol from his jacket pocket. He waved it menacingly. One ofthe others took the pistol away from Mister Anderson, the guard, andsaid to him in a low voice, Think about retirement, my friend. Thethird one, who carried a black satchel like a doctor's bag, walkedquickly around behind the teller's counter and started filling it withmoney.     It was just like the movies.     The man who had first spoken herded the tellers, Mr. Featherhall andthe customers all over against the back wall, while the second manstayed next to Mr. Anderson and the door. The third man stuffed moneyinto the black satchel.     The man by the door said, Hurry up.     The man with the satchel said, One more drawer.     The man with the gun turned to say to the man at the door, Keep yourshirt on.     That was all Miss English needed. She kicked off her shoes and ranpelting in her stocking feet for the door.  <doc-sep>The gold watch idea had been that of Lofting Gubelin, which wastypical, he being in the way of a living anachronism himself. In fact,Academician Gubelin was possibly the only living man on North Americawho still wore spectacles. His explanation was that a phobia againsthaving his eyes touched prohibited either surgery to remould hiseyeballs and cure his myopia, or contact lenses.     That was only an alibi so far as his closest associate, HansGirard-Perregaux, was concerned. Doctor Girard-Perregaux was convincedGubelin would have even worn facial hair, had he but a touch morecourage. Gubelin longed for yesteryear, a seldom found phenomenon underthe Ultrawelfare State.     Slumped in an autochair in the escape room of his Floridian home,Lofting Gubelin scowled at his friend. He said, acidly, Any morebright schemes, Hans? I presume you now acknowledge that appealing tothe cloddy's patriotism, sentiment and desire for public acclaim havemiserably failed.     Girard-Perregaux said easily, I wouldn't call Seymour Pond a cloddy.In his position, I am afraid I would do the same thing he has.     That's nonsense, Hans. Zoroaster! Either you or I would gladly takePond's place were we capable of performing the duties for which he hasbeen trained. There aren't two men on North America—there aren't twomen in the world!—who better realize the urgency of continuing ourdelving into space. Gubelin snapped his fingers. Like that, either ofus would give our lives to prevent man from completely abandoning theroad to his destiny.     His friend said drily, Either of us could have volunteered for pilottraining forty years ago, Lofting. We didn't.     At that time there wasn't such a blistering percentage of funkersthroughout this whole blistering Ultrawelfare State! Who couldforesee that eventually our whole program would face ending due tolack of courageous young men willing to take chances, willing to faceadventure, willing to react to the stimulus of danger in the manner ourancestors did?     Girard-Perregaux grunted his sarcasm and dialed a glass of iced teaand tequila. He said, Nevertheless, both you and I conform with thepresent generation in finding it far more pleasant to follow one'sway of life in the comfort of one's home than to be confronted withthe unpleasantness of facing nature's dangers in more adventurouspastimes.     Gubelin, half angry at his friend's argument, leaned forward to snaprebuttal, but the other was wagging a finger at him negatively. Facereality, Lofting. Don't require or expect from Seymour Pond morethan is to be found there. He is an average young man. Born in ourUltrawelfare State, he was guaranteed his fundamental womb-to-tombsecurity by being issued that minimum number of Basic shares in oursociety that allows him an income sufficient to secure the food,clothing, shelter, medical care and education to sustain a low levelof subsistence. Percentages were against his ever being draftedinto industry. Automation being what it is, only a fraction of thepopulation is ever called up. But Pond was. His industrial aptitudedossier revealed him a possible candidate for space pilot, and it wasyou yourself who talked him into taking the training ... pointing outthe more pragmatic advantages such as complete retirement after but sixtrips, added shares of Basic so that he could enjoy a more comfortablelife than most and the fame that would accrue to him as one of thevery few who still participate in travel to the planets. Very well.He was sold. Took his training, which, of course, required long yearsof drudgery to him. Then, performing his duties quite competently, hemade his six trips. He is now legally eligible for retirement. He wasdrafted into the working force reserves, served his time, and is nowfree from toil for the balance of his life. Why should he listen toour pleas for a few more trips?     But has he no spirit of adventure? Has he no feeling for....  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How does the story delve into the theme of accountability?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in Yesterday House? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>   Yesterday House     By FRITZ LEIBER     Illustrated by ASHMAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction August 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Meeting someone who's been dead for twenty       years is shocking enough for anyone with a       belief in ghosts—worse for one with none!        I     The narrow cove was quiet as the face of an expectant child, yet sonear the ruffled Atlantic that the last push of wind carried the      AnnieO.     its full length. The man in gray flannels and sweatshirt let thesail come crumpling down and hurried past its white folds at a gaitmade comically awkward by his cramped muscles. Slowly the rocky ledgecame nearer. Slowly the blue V inscribed on the cove's surface by thesloop's prow died. Sloop and ledge kissed so gently that he hardly hadto reach out his hand.     He scrambled ashore, dipping a sneaker in the icy water, and threw theline around a boulder. Unkinking himself, he looked back through thecove's high and rocky mouth at the gray-green scattering of islandsand the faint dark line that was the coast of Maine. He almost laughedin satisfaction at having disregarded vague warnings and done the thingevery man yearns to do once in his lifetime—gone to the farthestisland out.     He must have looked longer than he realized, because by the time hedropped his gaze the cove was again as glassy as if the      Annie O.     hadalways been there. And the splotches made by his sneaker on the rockhad faded in the hot sun. There was something very unusual about thequietness of this place. As if time, elsewhere hurrying frantically,paused here to rest. As if all changes were erased on this one bit ofEarth.     The man's lean, melancholy face crinkled into a grin at the banalfancy. He turned his back on his new friend, the little green sloop,without one thought for his nets and specimen bottles, and set out toexplore. The ground rose steeply at first and the oaks were close, butafter a little way things went downhill and the leaves thinned and hecame out on more rocks—and realized that he hadn't quite gone to thefarthest one out.  <doc-sep>June stepped from the last shower stall into the locker room, zippedoff her spacesuit with a sigh of relief, and contemplated herself in awall mirror. Red hair, dark blue eyes, tall....     I've got a good figure, she said thoughtfully.     Max turned at the door. Why this sudden interest in your looks? heasked suspiciously. Do we stand here and admire you, or do we finallyget something to eat?     Wait a minute. She went to a wall phone and dialed it carefully,using a combination from the ship's directory. How're you doing, Pat?     The phone picked up a hissing of water or spray. There was a startledchuckle. Voices, too! Hello, June. How do you tell a machine to gojump in the lake?     Are you hungry?     No food since yesterday.     We'll have a banquet ready for you when you get out, she told Pat andhung up, smiling. Pat Mead's voice had a vitality and enjoyment whichmade shipboard talk sound like sad artificial gaiety in contrast.     They looked into the nearby small laboratory where twelve squealinghamsters were protestingly submitting to a small injection each ofPat's blood. In most of them the injection was followed by one ofantihistaminics and adaptives. Otherwise the hamster defense systemwould treat all non-hamster cells as enemies, even the harmless humanblood cells, and fight back against them violently.     One hamster, the twelfth, was given an extra large dose of adaptive,so that if there were a disease, he would not fight it or the humancells, and thus succumb more rapidly.     How ya doing, George? Max asked.     Routine, George Barton grunted absently.     On the way up the long spiral ramps to the dining hall, they passed aviewplate. It showed a long scene of mountains in the distance on thehorizon, and between them, rising step by step as they grew fartheraway, the low rolling hills, bronze and red with patches of clear greenwhere there were fields.     Someone was looking out, standing very still, as if she had beenthere a long time—Bess St. Clair, a Canadian woman. It looks likeWinnipeg, she told them as they paused. When are you doctors going tolet us out of this blithering barberpole? Look, she pointed. See thatpatch of field on the south hillside, with the brook winding throughit? I've staked that hillside for our house. When do we get out?  <doc-sep>Lethla half-crouched in the midst of the smell of death and thechugging of blood-pumps below. In the silence he reached up with quickfingers, tapped a tiny crystal stud upon the back of his head, and thehalves of a microscopically thin chrysalis parted transparently offof his face. He shucked it off, trailing air-tendrils that had beeninserted, hidden in the uniform, ending in thin globules of oxygen.     He spoke. Triumph warmed his crystal-thin voice. That's how I did it,Earthman.     Glassite! said Rice. A face-moulded mask of glassite!     Lethla nodded. His milk-blue eyes dilated. Very marvelously pared toan unbreakable thickness of one-thirtieth of an inch; worn only on thehead. You have to look quickly to notice it, and, unfortunately, viewedas you saw it, outside the ship, floating in the void, not discernibleat all.     Prickles of sweat appeared on Rice's face. He swore at the Venusian andthe Venusian laughed like some sort of stringed instrument, high andquick.     Burnett laughed, too. Ironically. First time in years a man ever cameaboard the Constellation alive. It's a welcome change.     Lethla showed his needle-like teeth. I thought it might be. Where'syour radio?     Go find it! snapped Rice, hotly.     I will. One hand, blue-veined, on the ladder-rungs, Lethla paused.I know you're weaponless; Purple Cross regulations. And this air-lockis safe. Don't move. Whispering, his naked feet padded white up theladder. Two long breaths later something crashed; metal and glass andcoils. The radio.     Burnett put his shoulder blades against the wall-metal, looking at hisfeet. When he glanced up, Rice's fresh, animated face was spoiled bythe new bitterness in it.     Lethla came down. Like a breath of air on the rungs.     He smiled. That's better. Now. We can talk—     Rice said it, slow:     Interplanetary law declares it straight, Lethla! Get out! Only deadmen belong here.     Lethla's gun grip tightened. More talk of that nature, and only deadmen there will be. He blinked. But first—we must rescue Kriere....     Kriere! Rice acted as if he had been hit in the jaw.     Burnett moved his tongue back and forth on his lips silently, his eyeslidded, listening to the two of them as if they were a radio drama.Lethla's voice came next:     Rather unfortunately, yes. He's still alive, heading toward Venusat an orbital velocity of two thousand m.p.h., wearing one of theseair-chrysali. Enough air for two more hours. Our flag ship was attackedunexpectedly yesterday near Mars. We were forced to take to thelife-boats, scattering, Kriere and I in one, the others sacrificingtheir lives to cover our escape. We were lucky. We got through theEarth cordon unseen. But luck can't last forever.     We saw your morgue ship an hour ago. It's a long, long way to Venus.We were running out of fuel, food, water. Radio was broken. Capturewas certain. You were coming our way; we took the chance. We set asmall time-bomb to destroy the life-rocket, and cast off, wearing ourchrysali-helmets. It was the first time we had ever tried using them totrick anyone. We knew you wouldn't know we were alive until it was toolate and we controlled your ship. We knew you picked up all bodies forbrief exams, returning alien corpses to space later.     Rice's voice was sullen. A set-up for you, huh? Traveling under theprotection of the Purple Cross you can get your damned All-Mighty safeto Venus.     Lethla bowed slightly. Who would suspect a Morgue Rocket of providingsafe hiding for precious Venusian cargo?     Precious is the word for you, brother! said Rice.     Enough! Lethla moved his gun several inches.     Accelerate toward Venus, mote-detectors wide open. Kriere must bepicked up—      now!       <doc-sep>Suddenly he felt a surge of relief. He had noticed that the paper wasyellow and brittle-edged.     Why are you so interested in old newspapers? he asked.     I wouldn't call day-before-yesterday's paper old, the girl objected,pointing at the dateline: July 20, 1933.     You're trying to joke, Jack told her.     No, I'm not.     But it's 1953.     Now it's you who are joking.     But the paper's yellow.     The paper's always yellow.     He laughed uneasily. Well, if you actually think it's 1933, perhapsyou're to be envied, he said, with a sardonic humor he didn't quitefeel. Then you can't know anything about the Second World War, ortelevision, or the V-2s, or Bikini bathing suits, or the atomic bomb,or—     Stop! She had sprung up and retreated around her chair, white-faced.I don't like what you're saying.     But—     No, please! Jokes that may be quite harmless on the mainland sounddifferent here.     I'm really not joking, he said after a moment.     She grew quite frantic at that. I can show you all last week's papers!I can show you magazines and other things. I can prove it!     She started toward the house. He followed. He felt his heart begin topound.     At the white door she paused, looking worriedly down the road. Jackthought he could hear the faint      chug     of a motorboat. She pushed openthe door and he followed her inside. The small-windowed room was darkafter the sunlight. Jack got an impression of solid old furniture, afireplace with brass andirons.     Flash! croaked a gritty voice. After their disastrous break daybefore yesterday, stocks are recovering. Leading issues....     Jack realized that he had started and had involuntarily put his armaround the girl's shoulders. At the same time he noticed that the voicewas coming from the curved brown trumpet of an old-fashioned radioloudspeaker.     The girl didn't pull away from him. He turned toward her. Although hergray eyes were on him, her attention had gone elsewhere.     I can hear the car. They're coming back. They won't like it thatyou're here.     All right they won't like it.     Her agitation grew. No, you must go.     I'll come back tomorrow, he heard himself saying.     Flash! It looks as if the World Economic Conference may soon adjourn,mouthing jeers at old Uncle Sam who is generally referred to as UncleShylock.     Jack felt a numbness on his neck. The room seemed to be darkening, thegirl growing stranger still.     You must go before they see you.     Flash! Wiley Post has just completed his solo circuit of the Globe,after a record-breaking flight of 7 days, 18 hours and 45 minutes.Asked how he felt after the energy-draining feat, Post quipped....  <doc-sep>Untrimmed sumacs threw late-afternoon shadows on the discolored stuccofacade of the Elsby Public Library. Inside, Tremaine followed apaper-dry woman of indeterminate age to a rack of yellowed newsprint.     You'll find back to nineteen-forty here, the librarian said. Theolder are there in the shelves.     I want nineteen-oh-one, if they go back that far.     The woman darted a suspicious look at Tremaine. You have to handlethese old papers carefully.     I'll be extremely careful. The woman sniffed, opened a drawer, leafedthrough it, muttering.     What date was it you wanted?     Nineteen-oh-one; the week of May nineteenth.     The librarian pulled out a folded paper, placed it on the table,adjusted her glasses, squinted at the front page. That's it, shesaid. These papers keep pretty well, provided they're stored in thedark. But they're still flimsy, mind you.     I'll remember. The woman stood by as Tremaine looked over the frontpage. The lead article concerned the opening of the Pan-AmericanExposition at Buffalo. Vice-President Roosevelt had made a speech.Tremaine leafed over, reading slowly.     On page four, under a column headed      County Notes     he saw the name Bram:     Mr. Bram has purchased a quarter section of fine grazing land,north of town, together with a sturdy house, from J. P. Spivey ofElsby. Mr. Bram will occupy the home and will continue to graze afew head of stock. Mr. Bram, who is a newcomer to the county, hasbeen a resident of Mrs. Stoate's Guest Home in Elsby for the pastmonths.     May I see some earlier issues; from about the first of the year?     The librarian produced the papers. Tremaine turned the pages, read theheads, skimmed an article here and there. The librarian went back toher desk. An hour later, in the issue for July 7, 1900, an item caughthis eye:     A Severe Thunderstorm. Citizens of Elsby and the country were muchalarmed by a violent cloudburst, accompanied by lightning andthunder, during the night of the fifth. A fire set in the pinewoods north of Spivey's farm destroyed a considerable amount oftimber and threatened the house before burning itself out alongthe river.     The librarian was at Tremaine's side. I have to close the library now.You'll have to come back tomorrow.     Outside, the sky was sallow in the west: lights were coming on inwindows along the side streets. Tremaine turned up his collar against acold wind that had risen, started along the street toward the hotel.     A block away a black late-model sedan rounded a corner with a faintsqueal of tires and gunned past him, a heavy antenna mounted forwardof the left rear tail fin whipping in the slipstream. Tremaine stoppedshort, stared after the car.     Damn! he said aloud. An elderly man veered, eyeing him sharply.Tremaine set off at a run, covered the two blocks to the hotel, yankedopen the door to his car, slid into the seat, made a U-turn, and headednorth after the police car.  <doc-sep>   Appointment in Tomorrow     BY FRITZ LEIBER     Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction July 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Is it possible to have a world without moral values?     Or does lack of morality become a moral value, also?      The first angry rays of the sun—which, startlingly enough, still rosein the east at 24 hour intervals—pierced the lacy tops of Atlanticcombers and touched thousands of sleeping Americans with unconsciousfear, because of their unpleasant similarity to the rays from World WarIII's atomic bombs.     They turned to blood the witch-circle of rusty steel skeletons aroundInferno in Manhattan. Without comment, they pointed a cosmic finger atthe tarnished brass plaque commemorating the martyrdom of the ThreePhysicists after the dropping of the Hell Bomb. They tenderly touchedthe rosy skin and strawberry bruises on the naked shoulders of agirl sleeping off a drunk on the furry and radiantly heated floor ofa nearby roof garden. They struck green magic from the glassy blotthat was Old Washington. Twelve hours before, they had revealed thingsas eerily beautiful, and as ravaged, in Asia and Russia. They pinkedthe white walls of the Colonial dwelling of Morton Opperly near theInstitute for Advanced Studies; upstairs they slanted impartiallyacross the Pharoahlike and open-eyed face of the elderly physicist andthe ugly, sleep-surly one of young Willard Farquar in the next room.And in nearby New Washington they made of the spire of the Thinkers'Foundation a blue and optimistic glory that outshone White House, Jr.     It was America approaching the end of the Twentieth Century. Americaof juke-box burlesque and your local radiation hospital. Americaof the mask-fad for women and Mystic Christianity. America of theoff-the-bosom dress and the New Blue Laws. America of the Endless Warand the loyalty detector. America of marvelous Maizie and the monthlyrocket to Mars. America of the Thinkers and (a few remembered) theInstitute. Knock on titanium, Whadya do for black-outs, Please,lover, don't think when I'm around, America, as combat-shocked andcrippled as the rest of the bomb-shattered planet.     Not one impudent photon of the sunlight penetrated the triple-paned,polarizing windows of Jorj Helmuth's bedroom in the Thinker'sFoundation, yet the clock in his brain awakened him to the minute,or almost. Switching off the Educational Sandman in the midst of thephrase, ... applying tensor calculus to the nucleus, he took adeep, even breath and cast his mind to the limits of the world andhis knowledge. It was a somewhat shadowy vision, but, he noted withimpartial approval, definitely less shadowy than yesterday morning.     Employing a rapid mental scanning technique, he next cleared his memorychains of false associations, including those acquired while asleep.These chores completed, he held his finger on a bedside button, whichrotated the polarizing window panes until the room slowly filled with amuted daylight. Then, still flat on his back, he turned his head untilhe could look at the remarkably beautiful blonde girl asleep beside him.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in Yesterday House?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What was the environment like in Yesterday House? [SEP] <s>III     Oh, yes, and Jamieson had a feeble paper on what he calledindividualization in marine worms. Barr, have you ever thought muchabout the larger aspects of the problem of individuality?     Jack jumped slightly. He had let his thoughts wander very far.     Not especially, sir, he mumbled.     The house was still. A few minutes after the professor's arrival,Mrs. Kesserich had gone off with an anxious glance at Jack. He knewwhy and wished he could reassure her that he would not mention theirconversation to the professor.     Kesserich had spent perhaps a half hour briefing him on the moreimportant papers delivered at the conferences. Then, almost as ifit were a teacher's trick to show up a pupil's inattention, he hadsuddenly posed this question about individuality.     You know what I mean, of course, Kesserich pressed. The factors thatmake you you, and me me.     Heredity and environment, Jack parroted like a freshman.     Kesserich nodded. Suppose—this is just speculation—that we couldcontrol heredity and environment. Then we could re-create the sameindividual at will.     Jack felt a shiver go through him. To get exactly the same pattern ofhereditary traits. That'd be far beyond us.     What about identical twins? Kesserich pointed out. And then there'sparthenogenesis to be considered. One might produce a duplicate of themother without the intervention of the male. Although his voice hadgrown more idly speculative, Kesserich seemed to Jack to be smilingsecretly. There are many examples in the lower animal forms, to saynothing of the technique by which Loeb caused a sea urchin to reproducewith no more stimulus than a salt solution.     Jack felt the hair rising on his neck. Even then you wouldn't getexactly the same pattern of hereditary traits.     Not if the parent were of very pure stock? Not if there were somespecial technique for selecting ova that would reproduce all themother's traits?     But environment would change things, Jack objected. The duplicatewould be bound to develop differently.     Is environment so important? Newman tells about a pair of identicaltwins separated from birth, unaware of each other's existence. They metby accident when they were twenty-one. Each was a telephone repairman.Each had a wife the same age. Each had a baby son. And each had a foxterrier called 'Trixie.' That's without trying to make environmentssimilar. But suppose you did try. Suppose you saw to it that each ofthem had exactly the same experiences at the same times....     For a moment it seemed to Jack that the room was dimming and wavering,becoming a dark pool in which the only motionless thing was Kesserich'ssphinx-like face.     Well, we've escaped quite far enough from Jamieson's marine worms,the biologist said, all brisk again. He said it as if Jack were theone who had led the conversation down wild and unprofitable channels.Let's get on to your project. I want to talk it over now, because Iwon't have any time for it tomorrow.     Jack looked at him blankly.     Tomorrow I must attend to a very important matter, the biologistexplained.  <doc-sep>Captain O'leary put down his pencil and looked at the girl. She wasattractive and young—not beyond hope, surely. Maybe she had got offto a wrong start, but the question was, would putting her in thedisciplinary block help straighten her out? He rubbed his ear andlooked past her at the line of prisoners on the rap detail, waiting forhim to judge their cases.     He said patiently: Bradley, the rules are you have to mop out yourcell. If you didn't understand what Mathias was talking about, youshould have asked her. Now I'm warning you, the next time—     Hey, Cap'n, wait! Sodaro was looking alarmed. This isn't a firstoffense. Look at the rap sheet. Yesterday she pulled the same thing inthe mess hall. He shook his head reprovingly at the prisoner. Theblock guard had to break up a fight between her and another wench,and she claimed the same business—said she didn't understand when theother one asked her to move along. He added virtuously: The guardwarned her then that next time she'd get the Greensleeves for sure.     Inmate Bradley seemed to be on the verge of tears. She said tautly: Idon't care. I don't care!     O'Leary stopped her. That's enough! Three days in Block O!     It was the only thing to do—for her own sake as much as for his. Hehad managed, by strength of will, not to hear that she had omittedto say sir every time she spoke to him, but he couldn't keep it upforever and he certainly couldn't overlook hysteria. And hysteria wasclearly the next step for her.     All the same, he stared after her as she left. He handed the rap sheetto Sodaro and said absently: Too bad a kid like her has to be here.What's she in for?     You didn't know, Cap'n? Sodaro leered. She's in for conspiracy toviolate the Categoried Class laws. Don't waste your time with her,Cap'n. She's a figger-lover!     Captain O'Leary took a long drink of water from the fountain markedCivil Service. But it didn't wash the taste out of his mouth, thesmell from his nose.     What got into a girl to get her mixed up with that kind of dirtybusiness? He checked out of the cell blocks and walked across theyard, wondering about her. She'd had every advantage—decent CivilService parents, a good education, everything a girl could wish for. Ifanything, she had had a better environment than O'Leary himself, andlook what she had made of it.     The direction of evolution is toward specialization and Man is noexception, but with the difference that his is the one species thatcreates its own environment in which to specialize. From the momentthat clans formed, specialization began—the hunters using the weaponsmade by the flint-chippers, the food cooked in clay pots made by theceramists, over fire made by the shaman who guarded the sacred flame.     Civilization merely increased the extent of specialization. Fromthe born mechanic and the man with the gift of gab, society evolvedto the point of smaller contact and less communication between thespecializations, until now they could understand each other on only themost basic physical necessities—and not even always then.     But this was desirable, for the more specialists, the higher the degreeof civilization. The ultimate should be the complete segregationof each specialization—social and genetic measures to make thembreed true, because the unspecialized man is an uncivilized man,or at any rate he does not advance civilization. And letting thespecializations mix would produce genetic undesirables: clerk-laboreror Professional-GI misfits, for example, being only half specialized,would be good at no specialization.     And the basis of this specialization society was: The aptitude groupsare the true races of mankind. Putting it into law was only the legalenforcement of a demonstrable fact.     Evening, Cap'n. A bleary old inmate orderly stood up straight andtouched his cap as O'Leary passed by.     Evening.  <doc-sep>June stepped from the last shower stall into the locker room, zippedoff her spacesuit with a sigh of relief, and contemplated herself in awall mirror. Red hair, dark blue eyes, tall....     I've got a good figure, she said thoughtfully.     Max turned at the door. Why this sudden interest in your looks? heasked suspiciously. Do we stand here and admire you, or do we finallyget something to eat?     Wait a minute. She went to a wall phone and dialed it carefully,using a combination from the ship's directory. How're you doing, Pat?     The phone picked up a hissing of water or spray. There was a startledchuckle. Voices, too! Hello, June. How do you tell a machine to gojump in the lake?     Are you hungry?     No food since yesterday.     We'll have a banquet ready for you when you get out, she told Pat andhung up, smiling. Pat Mead's voice had a vitality and enjoyment whichmade shipboard talk sound like sad artificial gaiety in contrast.     They looked into the nearby small laboratory where twelve squealinghamsters were protestingly submitting to a small injection each ofPat's blood. In most of them the injection was followed by one ofantihistaminics and adaptives. Otherwise the hamster defense systemwould treat all non-hamster cells as enemies, even the harmless humanblood cells, and fight back against them violently.     One hamster, the twelfth, was given an extra large dose of adaptive,so that if there were a disease, he would not fight it or the humancells, and thus succumb more rapidly.     How ya doing, George? Max asked.     Routine, George Barton grunted absently.     On the way up the long spiral ramps to the dining hall, they passed aviewplate. It showed a long scene of mountains in the distance on thehorizon, and between them, rising step by step as they grew fartheraway, the low rolling hills, bronze and red with patches of clear greenwhere there were fields.     Someone was looking out, standing very still, as if she had beenthere a long time—Bess St. Clair, a Canadian woman. It looks likeWinnipeg, she told them as they paused. When are you doctors going tolet us out of this blithering barberpole? Look, she pointed. See thatpatch of field on the south hillside, with the brook winding throughit? I've staked that hillside for our house. When do we get out?  <doc-sep>Suddenly he felt a surge of relief. He had noticed that the paper wasyellow and brittle-edged.     Why are you so interested in old newspapers? he asked.     I wouldn't call day-before-yesterday's paper old, the girl objected,pointing at the dateline: July 20, 1933.     You're trying to joke, Jack told her.     No, I'm not.     But it's 1953.     Now it's you who are joking.     But the paper's yellow.     The paper's always yellow.     He laughed uneasily. Well, if you actually think it's 1933, perhapsyou're to be envied, he said, with a sardonic humor he didn't quitefeel. Then you can't know anything about the Second World War, ortelevision, or the V-2s, or Bikini bathing suits, or the atomic bomb,or—     Stop! She had sprung up and retreated around her chair, white-faced.I don't like what you're saying.     But—     No, please! Jokes that may be quite harmless on the mainland sounddifferent here.     I'm really not joking, he said after a moment.     She grew quite frantic at that. I can show you all last week's papers!I can show you magazines and other things. I can prove it!     She started toward the house. He followed. He felt his heart begin topound.     At the white door she paused, looking worriedly down the road. Jackthought he could hear the faint      chug     of a motorboat. She pushed openthe door and he followed her inside. The small-windowed room was darkafter the sunlight. Jack got an impression of solid old furniture, afireplace with brass andirons.     Flash! croaked a gritty voice. After their disastrous break daybefore yesterday, stocks are recovering. Leading issues....     Jack realized that he had started and had involuntarily put his armaround the girl's shoulders. At the same time he noticed that the voicewas coming from the curved brown trumpet of an old-fashioned radioloudspeaker.     The girl didn't pull away from him. He turned toward her. Although hergray eyes were on him, her attention had gone elsewhere.     I can hear the car. They're coming back. They won't like it thatyou're here.     All right they won't like it.     Her agitation grew. No, you must go.     I'll come back tomorrow, he heard himself saying.     Flash! It looks as if the World Economic Conference may soon adjourn,mouthing jeers at old Uncle Sam who is generally referred to as UncleShylock.     Jack felt a numbness on his neck. The room seemed to be darkening, thegirl growing stranger still.     You must go before they see you.     Flash! Wiley Post has just completed his solo circuit of the Globe,after a record-breaking flight of 7 days, 18 hours and 45 minutes.Asked how he felt after the energy-draining feat, Post quipped....  <doc-sep>The first thing about the derelict that struck us as we drew near washer size. No ship ever built in the Foundation Yards had ever attainedsuch gargantuan proportions. She must have stretched a full thousandfeet from bow to stern, a sleek torpedo shape of somehow unspeakablealienness. Against the backdrop of the Milky Way, she gleamed fitfullyin the light of the faraway sun, the metal of her flanks grained withsomething like tiny, glittering whorls. It was as though the stuffwere somehow unstable ... seeking balance ... maybe even alive in somestrange and alien way.     It was readily apparent to all of us that she had never been built forinter-planetary flight. She was a starship. Origin unknown. An aura ofmystery surrounded her like a shroud, protecting the world that gaveher birth mutely but effectively. The distance she must have come wasunthinkable. And the time it had taken...? Aeons. Millennia. For shewas drifting, dead in space, slowly spinning end over end as she swungabout Sol in a hyperbolic orbit that would soon take her out and awayagain into the inter-stellar deeps.     Something had wounded her ... perhaps ten million years ago ... perhapsyesterday. She was gashed deeply from stem to stern with a jagged ripthat bared her mangled innards. A wandering asteroid? A meteor? Wewould never know. It gave me an uncomfortable feeling of things beyondthe ken of men as I looked at her through the port. I would never knowwhat killed her, or where she was going, or whence she came. Yet shewas mine. It made me feel like an upstart. And it made me afraid ...but of what?     We should have reported her to the nearest EMV base, but that wouldhave meant that we'd lose her. Scientists would be sent out. Men betterequipped than we to investigate the first extrasolar artifact found bymen. But I didn't report her. She was ours. She was money in the bank.Let the scientists take over after we'd put a prize crew aboard andbrought her into Callisto for salvage.... That's the way I had thingsfigured.     The Maid hove to about a hundred yards from her and hung there, dwarfedby the mighty glistening ship. I called for volunteers and we prepareda boarding party. I was thinking that her drives alone would be worthmillions. Cohn took charge and he and three of the men suited up andcrossed to her.     In an hour they were back, disappointment largely written on theirfaces.     There's nothing left of her, Captain, Cohn reported, Whatever hither tore up the innards so badly we couldn't even find the drives.She's a mess inside. Nothing left but the hull and a few storagecompartments that are still unbroken.     She was never built to carry humanoids he told us, and there wasnothing that could give us a hint of where she had come from. The hullalone was left.     He dropped two chunks of metal on my desk. I brought back some samplesof her pressure hull, he said, The whole thing is made of thisstuff....     We'll still take her in, I said, hiding my disappointment. Thecarcass will be worth money in Callisto. Have Mister Marvin andZaleski assemble a spare pulse-jet. We'll jury-rig her and bring herdown under her own power. You take charge of provisioning her. Checkthose compartments you found and install oxy-generators aboard. Whenit's done report to me in my quarters.     I picked up the two samples of gleaming metal and called for ametallurgical testing kit. I'm going to try and find out if this stuffis worth anything....     The metal was heavy—too heavy, it seemed to me, for spaceshipconstruction. But then, who was to say what conditions existed on thatdistant world where this metal was made?     Under the bright fluorescent over my work-table, the chunks of metaltorn from a random bulkhead of the starship gleamed like pale silver;those strange little whorls that I had noticed on the outer hull werethere too, like tiny magnetic lines of force, making the surface ofthe metal seem to dance. I held the stuff in my bare hand.      It had ayellowish tinge, and it was heavier     ....     Even as I watched, the metal grew yellower, and the hand that heldit grew bone weary, little tongues of fatigue licking up my forearm.Suddenly terrified, I dropped the chunk as though it were white hot. Itstruck the table with a dull thud and lay there, a rich yellow lump ofmetallic lustre.     For a long while I just sat and stared. Then I began testing, tryingall the while to quiet the trembling of my hands. I weighed it on abalance. I tested it with acids. It had changed unquestionably. Itwas no longer the same as when I had carried it into my quarters. Thewhorls of force were gone. It was no longer alive with a questingvibrancy ... it was inert, stable. From somewhere, somehow, it haddrawn the energy necessary for transmutation. The unknown metal—thestuff of which that whole mammoth spaceship from the stars wasbuilt—was now....       Gold!       I scarcely dared believe it, but there it was staring at me from mytable-top.      Gold!       I searched my mind for an explanation. Contra-terrene matter, perhaps,from some distant island universe where matter reacted differently ...drawing energy from somewhere, the energy it needed to find stabilityin its new environment. Stability as a terrene element—wonderfully,miraculously gold!     And outside, in the void beyond the Maid's ports there were tons ofthis metal that could be turned into treasure. My laughter must havebeen a wild sound in those moments of discovery....  <doc-sep>Captain, you got nothing to worry about, Quartermaster Farley said.He patted a space helmet paternally. You got yourself a self-containedenvironment. The suit's eye looks into yours at the arteries in theback of your eyeball so it can read your amber corpuscles and feedyou your oxygen in the right amounts; you're a bottle-fed baby. Iftransphasia gets you seeing limburger, turn on the radar and you'reair-conditioned as an igloo. Nothing short of a cosmic blast can dentthat hide. You got it made.     You are right, I said, only transphasia comes right through theseair-fast joints.     Something strange about the trance, Captain, Farley said darkly. Anyspaceman can tell you that. Things we don't understand.     I'm talking about something we do understand—      sound     . These suitsperfectly soundproof?     Well, you can pick up sound by conduction. Like putting two helmetstogether and talking without using radio. You can't insulate enough toblock out all sound and still have a man-shaped suit. You have—     I know. Then you have something like a tractor or a miniaturespaceship. There isn't time for that. We will have to live with thesound.     What do you think he's going to hear out there, Captain? We'd like tofind one of those beautiful sirens on some planet, believe me, but—     I believe you, I said quickly. Let's leave it at that. I don't knowwhat he will hear; what's worrying me is      how     he'll hear it, in whatsensory medium. I hope the sound doesn't blind him. His radar is hisonly chance.     How do you figure on getting a better edge yourself, sir?     I have the idea, but not the word for it. Tonal compensation, Isuppose. If you can't shut out the noise, we'll have to drown it out.     Farley nodded. Beat like a telephone time signal?     That would do it.     It would do something else. It would drive you nuts.  <doc-sep>Before he had time to decide, Kaiser heard the small bell of thecommunicator from the tent behind him. He stood undecided for a moment,then returned and read the message on the tape:     STILL ANXIOUSLY AWAITING WORD FROM YOU.     IN MEANTIME, GIVE VERY CLOSE ATTENTION TO FOLLOWING.     WE KNOW THAT THE SYMBIOTES MUST BE ABLE TO MAKE RADICAL CHANGES IN THEPHYSIOLOGY OF THE SEAL-PEOPLE. THERE IS EVERY PROBABILITY THAT YOURSWILL ATTEMPT TO DO THE SAME TO YOU—TO BETTER FIT YOUR BODY TO ITSPRESENT ENVIRONMENT.     THE DANGER, WHICH WE HESITATED TO MENTION UNTIL NOW—WHEN YOU HAVEFORCED US BY YOUR OBSTINATE SILENCE—IS THAT IT CAN ALTER YOURMIND ALSO. YOUR REPORT ON SECOND TRIBE OF SEAL-PEOPLE STRONGLYINDICATES THAT THIS IS ALREADY HAPPENING. THEY WERE PROBABLY NOT MOREINTELLIGENT AND HUMANLIKE THAN THE OTHERS. ON THE CONTRARY, YOU AREBECOMING MORE LIKE THEM.     DANGER ACUTE. RETURN IMMEDIATELY. REPEAT: IMMEDIATELY!     SS II     Kaiser picked up a large rock and slowly, methodically pounded thecommunicator into a flattened jumble of metal and loose parts.     When he finished, he returned to the waiting girl on the river bank.She pointed at his plastic trousers and made laughing sounds in herthroat. Kaiser returned the laugh and stripped off the trousers. Theyran, still laughing, into the water.     Already the long pink hair that had been growing on his body during thepast week was beginning to turn brown at the roots.   <doc-sep>Sergeant-Major Hoffman and his team were doing a good job of rippingout the side of the afterhold. Through the portal I could see thesuited men expertly guiding the huge curved sections on their rayprojectors.     Cannibalizing is dangerous. Nagurski put his pipe in his teeth andshook his head disapprovingly.     Spaceships have parts as interchangeable as Erector sets. We cantake apart the tractors and put our ship back together again after wecomplete the survey.     You can't assemble a jigsaw puzzle if some of the pieces are missing.     You can't get a complete picture, but you can get a good idea ofwhat it looks like. We can take off in a reasonable facsimile of aspaceship.     Not, he persisted, if      too     many parts are missing.     Nagurski, if you are looking for a job safer than space exploration,why don't you go back to testing cosmic bomb shelters?     Nagurski flushed. Look here, Captain, you are being too damnedcautious. There is a way one handles the survey of a planet like this,and this isn't the way.     It's my way. You heard what Quade said. You know it yourself. The menhave to have something tangible to hang onto out there. One slendercable isn't enough of an edge on sensory anarchy. If the product oftheir own technological civilization can keep them sane, I say let 'emtake a part of that environment with them.     In departing from standard procedure that we have learned to trust,you are risking more than a few men—you risk the whole mission ingambling so much of the ship. A captain doesn't take chances like that!     I never said I wouldn't take chances. But I'm not going to take      stupid     chances. I      might     be doing the wrong thing, but I can see you      would     be doing it wrong.     You know nothing about space, Captain! You have to trust      us     .     That's it exactly, First Officer Nagurski, I said sociably. If youlazy, lax, complacent slobs want to do something in a particular way, Iknow it      has     to be wrong.     I turned and found Wallace, the personnel man, standing in the hatchway.     Pardon, Captain, but would you say we also lacked initiative?     I would, I answered levelly.     Then you'll be interested to hear that Spaceman Quade took a suit anda cartographer unit. He's out there somewhere, alone.     The idiot! I yelped. Everyone needs a partner out there. Send out ateam to follow his cable and drag him in here by it.     He didn't hook on a cable, Captain, Wallace said. I suppose heintended to go beyond the three-mile limit as you demanded.     Shut up, Wallace. You don't have to like me, but you can't twist whatI said as long as I command this spacer.     Cool off, Gav, Nagurski advised me. It's been done before. Anybodyelse would have been a fool to go out alone, but Quade is the mostexperienced man we have. He knows transphasia. Trust him.     I trusted him too far by letting him run around loose. He needs aleash in more ways than one, and I'm going to put one on him.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What was the environment like in Yesterday House?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the backstory of Martin Kesserich, and how does it relate to Yesterday House? [SEP] <s>II     The exterior of Martin Kesserich's home—a weathered white cube withnarrow, sharp-paned windows, topped by a cupola—was nothing like itslavish interior.     In much the same way, Mrs. Kesserich clashed with the darkly gleamingfurniture, persian rugs and bronze vases around her. Her shapelessblack form, poised awkwardly on the edge of a huge sofa, made Jackthink of a cow that had strayed into the drawing room. He wonderedagain how a man like Kesserich had come to marry such a creature.     Yet when she lifted up her little eyes from the shadows, he had theuneasy feeling that she knew a great deal about him. The eyes werestill those of a domestic animal, but of a wise one that has beenwatching the house a long, long while from the barnyard.       He asked abruptly, Do you know anything of a girl around here namedMary Alice Pope?     The silence lasted so long that he began to think she'd gone into somebovine trance. Then, without a word, she got up and went over to a tallcabinet. Feeling on a ledge behind it for a key, she opened a panel,opened a cardboard box inside it, took something from the box andhanded him a photograph. He held it up to the failing light and suckedin his breath with surprise.     It was a picture of the girl he'd met that afternoon. Sameflat-bosomed dress—flowered rather than white—no bandeau, same beads.Same proud, demure expression, perhaps a bit happier.     That is Mary Alice Pope, Mrs. Kesserich said in a strangely flatvoice. She was Martin's fiancee. She was killed in a railway accidentin 1933.     The small sound of the cabinet door closing brought Jack back toreality. He realized that he no longer had the photograph. Against thegloom by the cabinet, Mrs. Kesserich's white face looked at him withwhat seemed a malicious eagerness.     Sit down, she said, and I'll tell you about it.     Without a thought as to why she hadn't asked him a single question—hewas much too dazed for that—he obeyed. Mrs. Kesserich resumed herposition on the edge of the sofa.     You must understand, Mr. Barr, that Mary Alice Pope was the one loveof Martin's life. He is a man of very deep and strong feelings, yet asyou probably know, anything but kindly or demonstrative. Even when hefirst came here from Hungary with his older sisters Hani and Hilda,there was a cloak of loneliness about him—or rather about the three ofthem.     Hani and Hilda were athletic outdoor women, yet fiercely proud—Idon't imagine they ever spoke to anyone in America except as to aservant—and with a seething distaste for all men except Martin. Theyshowered all their devotion on him. So of course, though Martin didn'trealize it, they were consumed with jealousy when he fell in love withMary Alice Pope. They'd thought that since he'd reached forty withoutmarrying, he was safe.     Mary Alice came from a pure-bred, or as a biologist would say, inbredBritish stock. She was very young, but very sweet, and up to a pointvery wise. She sensed Hani and Hilda's feelings right away and dideverything she could to win them over. For instance, though she wasafraid of horses, she took up horseback riding, because that was Haniand Hilda's favorite pastime. Naturally, Martin knew nothing of herfear, and naturally his sisters knew about it from the first. But—andhere is where Mary's wisdom fell short—her brave gesture did notpacify them: it only increased their hatred.     Except for his research, Martin was blind to everything but his love.It was a beautiful and yet frightening passion, an insane cherishing asnarrow and intense as his sisters hatred.  <doc-sep>With a start, Jack remembered that it was Mrs. Kesserich telling himall this.     She went on, Martin's love directed his every move. He was building ahome for himself and Mary, and in his mind he was building a wonderfulfuture for them as well—not vaguely, if you know Martin, but year byyear, month by month. This winter, he'd plan, they would visit BuenosAires, next summer they would sail down the inland passage and he wouldteach Mary Hungarian for their trip to Buda-Pesth the year after, wherehe would occupy a chair at the university for a few months ... and soon. Finally the time for their marriage drew near. Martin had beenaway. His research was keeping him very busy—     Jack broke in with, Wasn't that about the time he did his definitivework on growth and fertilization?     Mrs. Kesserich nodded with solemn appreciation in the gatheringdarkness. But now he was coming home, his work done. It was earlyevening, very chilly, but Hani and Hilda felt they had to ride down tothe station to meet their brother. And although she dreaded it, Maryrode with them, for she knew how delighted he would be at her canteringto the puffing train and his running up to lift her down from thesaddle to welcome him home.     Of course there was Martin's luggage to be considered, so the stationwagon had to be sent down for that. She looked defiantly at Jack. Idrove the station wagon. I was Martin's laboratory assistant.     She paused. It was almost dark, but there was still a white coldline of sky to the west. Hani and Hilda, with Mary between them, werewaiting on their horses at the top of the hill that led down to thestation. The train had whistled and its headlight was graying thegravel of the crossing.     Suddenly Mary's horse squealed and plunged down the hill. Hani andHilda followed—to try to catch her, they said, but they didn't managethat, only kept her horse from veering off. Mary never screamed, but asher horse reared on the tracks, I saw her face in the headlight's glare.     Martin must have guessed, or at least feared what had happened, for hewas out of the train and running along the track before it stopped. Infact, he was the first to kneel down beside Mary—I mean, what had beenMary—and was holding her all bloody and shattered in his arms.     A door slammed. There were steps in the hall. Mrs. Kesserich stiffenedand was silent. Jack turned.     The blur of a face hung in the doorway to the hall—a seemingly young,sensitive, suavely handsome face with aristocratic jaw. Then there wasa click and the lights flared up and Jack saw the close-cropped grayhair and the lines around the eyes and nostrils, while the sensitivemouth grew sardonic. Yet the handsomeness stayed, and somehow theyouth, too, or at least a tremendous inner vibrancy.     Hello, Barr, Martin Kesserich said, ignoring his wife.     The great biologist had come home.  <doc-sep>III     Oh, yes, and Jamieson had a feeble paper on what he calledindividualization in marine worms. Barr, have you ever thought muchabout the larger aspects of the problem of individuality?     Jack jumped slightly. He had let his thoughts wander very far.     Not especially, sir, he mumbled.     The house was still. A few minutes after the professor's arrival,Mrs. Kesserich had gone off with an anxious glance at Jack. He knewwhy and wished he could reassure her that he would not mention theirconversation to the professor.     Kesserich had spent perhaps a half hour briefing him on the moreimportant papers delivered at the conferences. Then, almost as ifit were a teacher's trick to show up a pupil's inattention, he hadsuddenly posed this question about individuality.     You know what I mean, of course, Kesserich pressed. The factors thatmake you you, and me me.     Heredity and environment, Jack parroted like a freshman.     Kesserich nodded. Suppose—this is just speculation—that we couldcontrol heredity and environment. Then we could re-create the sameindividual at will.     Jack felt a shiver go through him. To get exactly the same pattern ofhereditary traits. That'd be far beyond us.     What about identical twins? Kesserich pointed out. And then there'sparthenogenesis to be considered. One might produce a duplicate of themother without the intervention of the male. Although his voice hadgrown more idly speculative, Kesserich seemed to Jack to be smilingsecretly. There are many examples in the lower animal forms, to saynothing of the technique by which Loeb caused a sea urchin to reproducewith no more stimulus than a salt solution.     Jack felt the hair rising on his neck. Even then you wouldn't getexactly the same pattern of hereditary traits.     Not if the parent were of very pure stock? Not if there were somespecial technique for selecting ova that would reproduce all themother's traits?     But environment would change things, Jack objected. The duplicatewould be bound to develop differently.     Is environment so important? Newman tells about a pair of identicaltwins separated from birth, unaware of each other's existence. They metby accident when they were twenty-one. Each was a telephone repairman.Each had a wife the same age. Each had a baby son. And each had a foxterrier called 'Trixie.' That's without trying to make environmentssimilar. But suppose you did try. Suppose you saw to it that each ofthem had exactly the same experiences at the same times....     For a moment it seemed to Jack that the room was dimming and wavering,becoming a dark pool in which the only motionless thing was Kesserich'ssphinx-like face.     Well, we've escaped quite far enough from Jamieson's marine worms,the biologist said, all brisk again. He said it as if Jack were theone who had led the conversation down wild and unprofitable channels.Let's get on to your project. I want to talk it over now, because Iwon't have any time for it tomorrow.     Jack looked at him blankly.     Tomorrow I must attend to a very important matter, the biologistexplained.  <doc-sep>He'd noticed the dewed silver pitcher, but only now realized histhirst. Yet when she handed him a glass, he held it untasted and saidawkwardly, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Jack Barry.     She stared at his outstretched right hand, slowly extended her owntoward it, shook it up and down exactly once, then quickly dropped it.     He chuckled and gulped some lemonade. I'm a biology student. Beenworking at Wood's Hole the first part of the summer. But now I'm hereto do research in marine ecology—that's sort of sea-life patterns—ofthe in-shore islands. Under the direction of Professor Kesserich. Youknow about him, of course?     She shook her head.     Probably the greatest living biologist, he was proud to informher. Human physiology as well. Tremendous geneticist. In a classwith Carlson and Jacques Loeb. Martin Kesserich—he lives over thereat town. I'm staying with him. You ought to have heard of him. Hegrinned. Matter of fact, I'd never have met you if it hadn't been forMrs. Kesserich.     The girl looked puzzled.     Jack explained, The old boy's been off to Europe on some conferences,won't be back for a couple days more. But I was to get started anyhow.When I went out this morning Mrs. Kesserich—she's a drab sort ofperson—said to me, 'Don't try to sail to the farther islands.' So, ofcourse, I had to. By the way, you still haven't told me your name.     Mary Alice Pope, she said, speaking slowly and with an odd wonder, asif she were saying it for the first time.     You're pretty shy, aren't you?     How would I know?     The question stopped Jack. He couldn't think of anything to say to thisstrangely attractive girl dressed almost like a flapper.     Will you sit down? she asked him gravely.     The rattan chair sighed under his weight. He made another effort totalk. I'll bet you'll be glad when summer's over.     Why?     So you'll be able to go back to the mainland.     But I never go to the mainland.     You mean you stay out here all winter? he asked incredulously, hismind filled with a vision of snow and frozen spray and great gray waves.     Oh, yes. We get all our supplies on hand before winter. My aunts arevery capable. They don't always wear long lace dresses. And now I helpthem.     But that's impossible! he said with sudden sympathetic anger. Youcan't be shut off this way from people your own age!     You're the first one I ever met. She hesitated. I never saw a boy ora man before, except in movies.     You're joking!     No, it's true.     But why are they doing it to you? he demanded, leaning forward. Whyare they inflicting this loneliness on you, Mary?  <doc-sep>Martin was never left alone for a minute. He wasn't allowed to playwith the other kids in the new neighborhood. Not that their parentswould have let them, anyway. The adults obviously figured that ifa one-car family hired private tutors for their kid, there must besomething pretty wrong with him. So Martin and Ninian were just asconspicuous as before. But he didn't tip her off. She was grown up; shewas supposed to know better than he did.     He lived well. He had food to eat that he'd never dreamed of before,warm clothes that no one had ever worn before him. He was surrounded bymore luxury than he knew what to do with.     The furniture was the latest New Grand Rapids African modern. Therewere tidy, colorful Picasso and Braque prints on the walls. And everyinch of the floor was modestly covered by carpeting, though the wallswere mostly unabashed glass. There were hot water and heat all the timeand a freezer well stocked with food—somewhat erratically chosen, forNinian didn't know much about meals.     The non-glass part of the house was of neat, natural-toned wood, with aneat green lawn in front and a neat parti-colored garden in back.     Martin missed the old neighborhood, though. He missed having otherkids to play with. He even missed his mother. Sure, she hadn't givenhim enough to eat and she'd beaten him up so hard sometimes that she'dnearly killed him—but then there had also been times when she'd huggedand kissed him and soaked his collar with her tears. She'd done allshe could for him, supporting him in the only way she knew how—and ifrespectable society didn't like it, the hell with respectable society.     From Ninian and her cousins, there was only an impersonal kindness.They made no bones about the fact that they were there only to carryout a rather unpleasant duty. Though they were in the house with him,in their minds and in their talk they were living in another world—aworld of warmth and peace and plenty where nobody worked, except in thegovernment service or the essential professions. And they seemed tothink even that kind of job was pretty low-class, though better thanactually doing anything with the hands.     In their world, Martin came to understand, nobody worked with hands;everything was done by machinery. All the people ever did was wearpretty clothes and have good times and eat all they wanted. There wasno devastation, no war, no unhappiness, none of the concomitants ofnormal living.     It was then that Martin began to realize that either the whole lot ofthem were insane, or what Ninian had told him at first was the truth.They came from the future.  <doc-sep>Martin had, of course, no illusions on that score; he had learned longago that nobody did anything for nothing. But saying so was unwise.     We bribed another set of plans out of another of the professor'sassistants, Raymond continued, as if Martin had answered,and—ah—induced a handicraft enthusiast to build the gadget for us.       Induced     , Martin knew, could have meant anything from blackmail to theuse of the iron maiden.     Then we were all ready to forestall Conrad. If one of us guarded younight and day, he would never be able to carry out his plot. So we madeour counter-plan, set the machine as far back as it would go—and herewe are!     I see, Martin said.     Raymond didn't seem to think he really did. After all, he pointedout defensively, whatever our motives, it has turned into a goodthing for you. Nice home, cultured companions, all the contemporaryconveniences, plus some handy anachronisms—I don't see what more youcould ask for. You're getting the best of all possible worlds. Ofcourse Ninian      was     a ninny to locate in a mercantile suburb where anylittle thing out of the way will cause talk. How thankful I am that ourera has completely disposed of the mercantiles—     What did you do with them? Martin asked.     But Raymond rushed on: Soon as Ninian goes and I'm in full charge,we'll get a more isolated place and run it on a far grander scale.Ostentation—that's the way to live here and now; the richer you are,the more eccentricity you can get away with. And, he added, I mightas well be as comfortable as possible while I suffer through thiswretched historical stint.     So Ninian's going, said Martin, wondering why the news made him feelcuriously desolate. Because, although he supposed he liked her in aremote kind of way, he had no fondness for her—or she, he knew, forhim.     Well, five years is rather a long stretch for any girl to spend inexile, Raymond explained, even though our life spans are a bit longerthan yours. Besides, you're getting too old now to be under petticoatgovernment. He looked inquisitively at Martin. You're not going togo all weepy and make a scene when she leaves, are you?     No.... Martin said hesitantly. Oh, I suppose I will miss her. But wearen't very close, so it won't make a real difference. That was thesad part: he already knew it wouldn't make a difference.     Raymond clapped him on the shoulder. I knew you weren't a sloppysentimentalist like Conrad. Though you do have rather a look of him,you know.     Suddenly that seemed to make Conrad real. Martin felt a vague stirringof alarm. He kept his voice composed, however. How do you plan toprotect me when he comes?     Well, each one of us is armed to the teeth, of course, Raymond saidwith modest pride, displaying something that looked like a child'scombination spaceman's gun and death ray, but which, Martin had nodoubt, was a perfectly genuine—and lethal—weapon. And we've got arather elaborate burglar alarm system.     Martin inspected the system and made one or two changes in the wiringwhich, he felt, would increase its efficiency. But still he wasdubious. Maybe it'll work on someone coming from outside this      house     ,but do you think it will work on someone coming from outside this      time     ?     Never fear—it has a temporal radius, Raymond replied. Factoryguarantee and all that.     Just to be on the safe side, Martin said, I think I'd better haveone of those guns, too.     A splendid idea! enthused Raymond. I was just about to think of thatmyself!  <doc-sep>So Martin held his peace, because, on the whole, he liked things theway they were. Ninian really was the limit, though. All the people heknew lived in scabrous tenement apartments like his, but she seemed tothink it was disgusting.     So if you don't like it, clean it up, he suggested.     She looked at him as if he were out of his mind.     Hire a maid, then! he jeered.     And darned if that dope didn't go out and get a woman to come clean upthe place! He was so embarrassed, he didn't even dare show his face inthe streets—especially with the women buttonholing him and demandingto know what gave. They tried talking to Ninian, but she certainly knewhow to give them the cold shoulder.     One day the truant officer came to ask why Martin hadn't been comingto school. Very few of the neighborhood kids attended classes veryregularly, so this was just routine. But Ninian didn't know that andshe went into a real tizzy, babbling that Martin had been sick andwould make up the work. Martin nearly did get sick from laughing sohard inside.     But he laughed out of the other side of his mouth when she went out andhired a private tutor for him. A tutor—in that neighborhood! Martinhad to beat up every kid on the block before he could walk a stepwithout hearing Fancy Pants! yelled after him.     Ninian worried all the time. It wasn't that she cared what these peoplethought of her, for she made no secret of regarding them as littlebetter than animals, but she was shy of attracting attention. Therewere an awful lot of people in that neighborhood who felt exactly thesame way, only she didn't know that, either. She was really prettydumb, Martin thought, for all her fancy lingo.     It's so hard to think these things out without any prior practicalapplication to go by, she told him.     He nodded, knowing what she meant was that everything was coming outwrong. But he didn't try to help her; he just watched to see whatshe'd do next. Already he had begun to assume the detached role of aspectator.     When it became clear that his mother was never going to show up again,Ninian bought one of those smallish, almost identical houses thatmushroom on the fringes of a city after every war, particularly whereintensive bombing has created a number of desirable building sites.     This is a much better neighborhood for a boy to grow up in, shedeclared. Besides, it's easier to keep an eye on you here.     And keep an eye on him she did—she or a rather foppish young man whocame to stay with them occasionally. Martin was told to call him UncleRaymond.     From time to time, there were other visitors—Uncles Ives andBartholomew and Olaf, Aunts Ottillie and Grania and Lalage, and manymore—all cousins to one another, he was told, all descendants of his.  <doc-sep>She glanced down at the data. Denton Cassal, native of Earth.Destination, Tunney 21. She looked up at him. Occupation, salesengineer. Isn't that an odd combination? Her smile was quite superior.     Not at all. Scientific training as an engineer. Special knowledge ofcustomer relations.     Special knowledge of a thousand races? How convenient. Her eyebrowsarched.     I think so, he agreed blandly. Anything else you'd like to know?     Sorry. I didn't mean to offend you.     He could believe that or not as he wished. He didn't.     You refused to answer why you were going to Tunney 21. Perhaps I canguess. They're the best scientists in the Galaxy. You wish to studyunder them.     Close—but wrong on two counts. They were good scientists, though notnecessarily the best. For instance, it was doubtful that they couldbuild Dimanche, even if they had ever thought of it, which was evenless likely.     There was, however, one relatively obscure research worker on Tunney 21that Neuronics wanted on their staff. If the fragments of his studiesthat had reached Earth across the vast distance meant anything, hecould help Neuronics perfect instantaneous radio. The company thatcould build a radio to span the reaches of the Galaxy with no time lagcould set its own price, which could be control of all communications,transport, trade—a galactic monopoly. Cassal's share would be a cut ofall that.     His part was simple, on the surface. He was to persuade that researcherto come to Earth,      if he could     . Literally, he had to guess theTunnesian's price before the Tunnesian himself knew it. In addition,the reputation of Tunnesian scientists being exceeded only by theirarrogance, Cassal had to convince him that he wouldn't be workingfor ignorant Earth savages. The existence of such an instrument asDimanche was a key factor.     Her voice broke through his thoughts. Now, then, what's your problem?     I was told on Earth I might have to wait a few days on Godolph. I'vebeen here three weeks. I want information on the ship bound for Tunney21.     Just a moment. She glanced at something below the angle of thescreen. She looked up and her eyes were grave.       Rickrock C     arrivedyesterday. Departed for Tunney early this morning.     Departed? He got up and sat down again, swallowing hard. When willthe next ship arrive?     Do you know how many stars there are in the Galaxy? she asked.     He didn't answer.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the backstory of Martin Kesserich, and how does it relate to Yesterday House?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How has Martin Kesserich dealt with the grief of losing Mary Alice in Yesterday House? [SEP] <s>II     The exterior of Martin Kesserich's home—a weathered white cube withnarrow, sharp-paned windows, topped by a cupola—was nothing like itslavish interior.     In much the same way, Mrs. Kesserich clashed with the darkly gleamingfurniture, persian rugs and bronze vases around her. Her shapelessblack form, poised awkwardly on the edge of a huge sofa, made Jackthink of a cow that had strayed into the drawing room. He wonderedagain how a man like Kesserich had come to marry such a creature.     Yet when she lifted up her little eyes from the shadows, he had theuneasy feeling that she knew a great deal about him. The eyes werestill those of a domestic animal, but of a wise one that has beenwatching the house a long, long while from the barnyard.       He asked abruptly, Do you know anything of a girl around here namedMary Alice Pope?     The silence lasted so long that he began to think she'd gone into somebovine trance. Then, without a word, she got up and went over to a tallcabinet. Feeling on a ledge behind it for a key, she opened a panel,opened a cardboard box inside it, took something from the box andhanded him a photograph. He held it up to the failing light and suckedin his breath with surprise.     It was a picture of the girl he'd met that afternoon. Sameflat-bosomed dress—flowered rather than white—no bandeau, same beads.Same proud, demure expression, perhaps a bit happier.     That is Mary Alice Pope, Mrs. Kesserich said in a strangely flatvoice. She was Martin's fiancee. She was killed in a railway accidentin 1933.     The small sound of the cabinet door closing brought Jack back toreality. He realized that he no longer had the photograph. Against thegloom by the cabinet, Mrs. Kesserich's white face looked at him withwhat seemed a malicious eagerness.     Sit down, she said, and I'll tell you about it.     Without a thought as to why she hadn't asked him a single question—hewas much too dazed for that—he obeyed. Mrs. Kesserich resumed herposition on the edge of the sofa.     You must understand, Mr. Barr, that Mary Alice Pope was the one loveof Martin's life. He is a man of very deep and strong feelings, yet asyou probably know, anything but kindly or demonstrative. Even when hefirst came here from Hungary with his older sisters Hani and Hilda,there was a cloak of loneliness about him—or rather about the three ofthem.     Hani and Hilda were athletic outdoor women, yet fiercely proud—Idon't imagine they ever spoke to anyone in America except as to aservant—and with a seething distaste for all men except Martin. Theyshowered all their devotion on him. So of course, though Martin didn'trealize it, they were consumed with jealousy when he fell in love withMary Alice Pope. They'd thought that since he'd reached forty withoutmarrying, he was safe.     Mary Alice came from a pure-bred, or as a biologist would say, inbredBritish stock. She was very young, but very sweet, and up to a pointvery wise. She sensed Hani and Hilda's feelings right away and dideverything she could to win them over. For instance, though she wasafraid of horses, she took up horseback riding, because that was Haniand Hilda's favorite pastime. Naturally, Martin knew nothing of herfear, and naturally his sisters knew about it from the first. But—andhere is where Mary's wisdom fell short—her brave gesture did notpacify them: it only increased their hatred.     Except for his research, Martin was blind to everything but his love.It was a beautiful and yet frightening passion, an insane cherishing asnarrow and intense as his sisters hatred.  <doc-sep>With a start, Jack remembered that it was Mrs. Kesserich telling himall this.     She went on, Martin's love directed his every move. He was building ahome for himself and Mary, and in his mind he was building a wonderfulfuture for them as well—not vaguely, if you know Martin, but year byyear, month by month. This winter, he'd plan, they would visit BuenosAires, next summer they would sail down the inland passage and he wouldteach Mary Hungarian for their trip to Buda-Pesth the year after, wherehe would occupy a chair at the university for a few months ... and soon. Finally the time for their marriage drew near. Martin had beenaway. His research was keeping him very busy—     Jack broke in with, Wasn't that about the time he did his definitivework on growth and fertilization?     Mrs. Kesserich nodded with solemn appreciation in the gatheringdarkness. But now he was coming home, his work done. It was earlyevening, very chilly, but Hani and Hilda felt they had to ride down tothe station to meet their brother. And although she dreaded it, Maryrode with them, for she knew how delighted he would be at her canteringto the puffing train and his running up to lift her down from thesaddle to welcome him home.     Of course there was Martin's luggage to be considered, so the stationwagon had to be sent down for that. She looked defiantly at Jack. Idrove the station wagon. I was Martin's laboratory assistant.     She paused. It was almost dark, but there was still a white coldline of sky to the west. Hani and Hilda, with Mary between them, werewaiting on their horses at the top of the hill that led down to thestation. The train had whistled and its headlight was graying thegravel of the crossing.     Suddenly Mary's horse squealed and plunged down the hill. Hani andHilda followed—to try to catch her, they said, but they didn't managethat, only kept her horse from veering off. Mary never screamed, but asher horse reared on the tracks, I saw her face in the headlight's glare.     Martin must have guessed, or at least feared what had happened, for hewas out of the train and running along the track before it stopped. Infact, he was the first to kneel down beside Mary—I mean, what had beenMary—and was holding her all bloody and shattered in his arms.     A door slammed. There were steps in the hall. Mrs. Kesserich stiffenedand was silent. Jack turned.     The blur of a face hung in the doorway to the hall—a seemingly young,sensitive, suavely handsome face with aristocratic jaw. Then there wasa click and the lights flared up and Jack saw the close-cropped grayhair and the lines around the eyes and nostrils, while the sensitivemouth grew sardonic. Yet the handsomeness stayed, and somehow theyouth, too, or at least a tremendous inner vibrancy.     Hello, Barr, Martin Kesserich said, ignoring his wife.     The great biologist had come home.  <doc-sep>He'd noticed the dewed silver pitcher, but only now realized histhirst. Yet when she handed him a glass, he held it untasted and saidawkwardly, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Jack Barry.     She stared at his outstretched right hand, slowly extended her owntoward it, shook it up and down exactly once, then quickly dropped it.     He chuckled and gulped some lemonade. I'm a biology student. Beenworking at Wood's Hole the first part of the summer. But now I'm hereto do research in marine ecology—that's sort of sea-life patterns—ofthe in-shore islands. Under the direction of Professor Kesserich. Youknow about him, of course?     She shook her head.     Probably the greatest living biologist, he was proud to informher. Human physiology as well. Tremendous geneticist. In a classwith Carlson and Jacques Loeb. Martin Kesserich—he lives over thereat town. I'm staying with him. You ought to have heard of him. Hegrinned. Matter of fact, I'd never have met you if it hadn't been forMrs. Kesserich.     The girl looked puzzled.     Jack explained, The old boy's been off to Europe on some conferences,won't be back for a couple days more. But I was to get started anyhow.When I went out this morning Mrs. Kesserich—she's a drab sort ofperson—said to me, 'Don't try to sail to the farther islands.' So, ofcourse, I had to. By the way, you still haven't told me your name.     Mary Alice Pope, she said, speaking slowly and with an odd wonder, asif she were saying it for the first time.     You're pretty shy, aren't you?     How would I know?     The question stopped Jack. He couldn't think of anything to say to thisstrangely attractive girl dressed almost like a flapper.     Will you sit down? she asked him gravely.     The rattan chair sighed under his weight. He made another effort totalk. I'll bet you'll be glad when summer's over.     Why?     So you'll be able to go back to the mainland.     But I never go to the mainland.     You mean you stay out here all winter? he asked incredulously, hismind filled with a vision of snow and frozen spray and great gray waves.     Oh, yes. We get all our supplies on hand before winter. My aunts arevery capable. They don't always wear long lace dresses. And now I helpthem.     But that's impossible! he said with sudden sympathetic anger. Youcan't be shut off this way from people your own age!     You're the first one I ever met. She hesitated. I never saw a boy ora man before, except in movies.     You're joking!     No, it's true.     But why are they doing it to you? he demanded, leaning forward. Whyare they inflicting this loneliness on you, Mary?  <doc-sep>IV     Morning sunlight brightened the colors of the wax flowers under glasson the high bureau that always seemed to emit the faint odor of oldhair combings. Jack pulled back the diamond-patterned quilt and blinkedthe sleep from his eyes. He expected his mind to be busy wonderingabout Kesserich and his wife—things said and half said last night—butfound instead that his thoughts swung instantly to Mary Alice Pope, asif to a farthest island in a world of people.     Downstairs, the house was empty. After a long look at the cabinet—hefelt behind it, but the key was gone—he hurried down to thewaterfront. He stopped only for a bowl of chowder and, as anafterthought, to buy half a dozen newspapers.     The sea was bright, the brisk wind just right for the      Annie O.     Therewas eagerness in the way it smacked the sail and in the creak of themast. And when he reached the cove, it was no longer still, but nervouswith faint ripples, as if time had finally begun to stir.     After the same struggle with the underbrush, he came out on the rockyspine and passed the cove of the sea urchins. The spiny creaturesstruck an uncomfortable chord in his memory.     This time he climbed the second island cautiously, scraping theinnocent-seeming ground ahead of him intently with a boathook he'dbrought along for the purpose. He was only a few yards from the fencewhen he saw Mary Alice Pope standing behind it.     He hadn't realized that his heart would begin to pound or that, at thesame time, a shiver of almost supernatural dread would go through him.     The girl eyed him with an uneasy hostility and immediately began tospeak in a hushed, hurried voice. You must go away at once and nevercome back. You're a wicked man, but I don't want you to be hurt. I'vebeen watching for you all morning.     He tossed the newspapers over the fence. You don't have to readthem now, he told her. Just look at the datelines and a few of theheadlines.     When she finally lifted her eyes to his again, she was trembling. Shetried unsuccessfully to speak.     Listen to me, he said. You've been the victim of a scheme to makeyou believe you were born around 1916 instead of 1933, and that it's1933 now instead of 1951. I'm not sure why it's been done, though Ithink I know who you really are.     But, the girl faltered, my aunts tell me it's 1933.     They would.     And there are the papers ... the magazines ... the radio.     The papers are old ones. The radio's faked—some sort of recording. Icould show you if I could get at it.           These     papers might be faked, she said, pointing to where she'd letthem drop on the ground.     They're new, he said. Only old papers get yellow.     But why would they do it to me?      Why?          Come with me to the mainland, Mary. That'll set you straight quickerthan anything.     I couldn't, she said, drawing back. He's coming tonight.     He?     The man who sends me the boxes ... and my life.     Jack shivered. When he spoke, his voice was rough and quick. A lifethat's completely a lie, that's cut you off from the world. Come withme, Mary.  <doc-sep>He rather liked Ives, though. Sometimes the two of them would be alonetogether; then Ives would tell Martin of the future world he had comefrom. The picture drawn by Raymond and Ninian had not been entirelyaccurate, Ives admitted. True, there was no war or poverty on Earthproper, but that was because there were only a couple of million peopleleft on the planet. It was an enclave for the highly privileged, highlyinterbred aristocracy, to which Martin's descendants belonged by virtueof their distinguished ancestry.     Rather feudal, isn't it? Martin asked.     Ives agreed, adding that the system had, however, been deliberatelyplanned, rather than the result of haphazard natural development.Everything potentially unpleasant, like the mercantiles, had beendeported.     Not only natives livin' on the other worlds, Ives said as the twoof them stood at the ship's rail, surrounded by the limitless expanseof some ocean or other. People, too. Mostly lower classes, exceptfor officials and things. With wars and want and suffering, he addedregretfully, same as in your day.... Like now, I mean, he correctedhimself. Maybe it      is     worse, the way Conrad thinks. More planetsfor us to make trouble on. Three that were habitable aren't any more.Bombed. Very thorough job.     Oh, Martin murmured, trying to sound shocked, horrified—interested,even.     Sometimes I'm not altogether sure Conrad was wrong, Ives said, aftera pause. Tried to keep us from getting to the stars, hurting thepeople—I expect you could call them people—there. Still— he smiledshamefacedly—couldn't stand by and see my own way of life destroyed,could I?     I suppose not, Martin said.     Would take moral courage. I don't have it. None of us does, exceptConrad, and even he— Ives looked out over the sea. Must be a betterway out than Conrad's, he said without conviction. And everythingwill work out all right in the end. Bound to. No sense to—to anything,if it doesn't. He glanced wistfully at Martin.     I hope so, said Martin. But he couldn't hope; he couldn't feel; hecouldn't even seem to care.     During all this time, Conrad still did not put in an appearance. Martinhad gotten to be such a crack shot with the ray pistol that he almostwished his descendant would show up, so there would be some excitement.But he didn't come. And Martin got to thinking....     He always felt that if any of the cousins could have come to realizethe basic flaw in the elaborate plan they had concocted, it would havebeen Ives. However, when the yacht touched at Tierra del Fuego onebitter winter, Ives took a severe chill. They sent for a doctor fromthe future—one of the descendants who had been eccentric enough totake a medical degree—but he wasn't able to save Ives. The body wasburied in the frozen ground at Ushuaia, on the southern tip of thecontinent, a hundred years or more before the date of his birth.     A great many of the cousins turned up at the simple ceremony. All weredressed in overwhelming black and showed a great deal of grief. Raymondread the burial service, because they didn't dare summon a clericalcousin from the future; they were afraid he might prove rather stuffyabout the entire undertaking.     He died for all of us, Raymond concluded his funeral eulogy overIves, so his death was not in vain.     But Martin disagreed.  <doc-sep>III     Oh, yes, and Jamieson had a feeble paper on what he calledindividualization in marine worms. Barr, have you ever thought muchabout the larger aspects of the problem of individuality?     Jack jumped slightly. He had let his thoughts wander very far.     Not especially, sir, he mumbled.     The house was still. A few minutes after the professor's arrival,Mrs. Kesserich had gone off with an anxious glance at Jack. He knewwhy and wished he could reassure her that he would not mention theirconversation to the professor.     Kesserich had spent perhaps a half hour briefing him on the moreimportant papers delivered at the conferences. Then, almost as ifit were a teacher's trick to show up a pupil's inattention, he hadsuddenly posed this question about individuality.     You know what I mean, of course, Kesserich pressed. The factors thatmake you you, and me me.     Heredity and environment, Jack parroted like a freshman.     Kesserich nodded. Suppose—this is just speculation—that we couldcontrol heredity and environment. Then we could re-create the sameindividual at will.     Jack felt a shiver go through him. To get exactly the same pattern ofhereditary traits. That'd be far beyond us.     What about identical twins? Kesserich pointed out. And then there'sparthenogenesis to be considered. One might produce a duplicate of themother without the intervention of the male. Although his voice hadgrown more idly speculative, Kesserich seemed to Jack to be smilingsecretly. There are many examples in the lower animal forms, to saynothing of the technique by which Loeb caused a sea urchin to reproducewith no more stimulus than a salt solution.     Jack felt the hair rising on his neck. Even then you wouldn't getexactly the same pattern of hereditary traits.     Not if the parent were of very pure stock? Not if there were somespecial technique for selecting ova that would reproduce all themother's traits?     But environment would change things, Jack objected. The duplicatewould be bound to develop differently.     Is environment so important? Newman tells about a pair of identicaltwins separated from birth, unaware of each other's existence. They metby accident when they were twenty-one. Each was a telephone repairman.Each had a wife the same age. Each had a baby son. And each had a foxterrier called 'Trixie.' That's without trying to make environmentssimilar. But suppose you did try. Suppose you saw to it that each ofthem had exactly the same experiences at the same times....     For a moment it seemed to Jack that the room was dimming and wavering,becoming a dark pool in which the only motionless thing was Kesserich'ssphinx-like face.     Well, we've escaped quite far enough from Jamieson's marine worms,the biologist said, all brisk again. He said it as if Jack were theone who had led the conversation down wild and unprofitable channels.Let's get on to your project. I want to talk it over now, because Iwon't have any time for it tomorrow.     Jack looked at him blankly.     Tomorrow I must attend to a very important matter, the biologistexplained.  <doc-sep>The ceaseless voyaging began again.      The Interregnum     voyaged to everyocean and every sea. Some were blue and some green and some dun. Aftera while, Martin couldn't tell one from another. Cousin after cousincame to watch over him and eventually they were as hard for him to tellapart as the different oceans.       All the cousins were young, for, though they came at different times inhis life, they had all started out from the same time in theirs. Onlythe young ones had been included in the venture; they did not trusttheir elders.     As the years went by, Martin began to lose even his detached interestin the land and its doings. Although the yacht frequently touched portfor fuel or supplies—it was more economical to purchase them in thatera than to have them shipped from the future—he seldom went ashore,and then only at the urging of a newly assigned cousin anxious to seethe sights. Most of the time Martin spent in watching the sea—andsometimes he painted it. There seemed to be a depth to his seascapesthat his other work lacked.     When he was pressed by the current cousin to make a land visitsomewhere, he decided to exhibit a few of his sea paintings. That way,he could fool himself into thinking that there was some purpose to thisjourney. He'd come to believe that perhaps what his life lacked waspurpose, and for a while he kept looking for meaning everywhere, to thecousin's utter disgust.     Eat, drink and be merry, or whatever you Romans say when you do as youdo, the cousin—who was rather woolly in history; the descendants werescraping bottom now—advised.     Martin showed his work in Italy, so that the cousin could bedisillusioned by the current crop of Romans. He found that neitherpurpose nor malice was enough; he was still immeasurably bored.However, a museum bought two of the paintings. Martin thought of Ivesand felt an uncomfortable pang of a sensation he could no longerunderstand.     Where do you suppose Conrad has been all this time? Martin idly askedthe current cousin—who was passing as his nephew by now.     The young man jumped, then glanced around him uncomfortably. Conrad'sa very shrewd fellow, he whispered. He's biding his time—waitinguntil we're off guard. And then—pow!—he'll attack!     Oh, I see, Martin said.     He had often fancied that Conrad would prove to be the most stimulatingmember of the whole generation. But it seemed unlikely that he wouldever have a chance for a conversation with the young man. More than oneconversation, anyhow.     When he does show up, I'll protect you, the cousin vowed, touchinghis ray gun. You haven't a thing to worry about.     Martin smiled with all the charm he'd had nothing to do but acquire. Ihave every confidence in you, he told his descendant. He himself hadgiven up carrying a gun long ago.     There was a war in the Northern Hemisphere and so      The Interregnum     voyaged to southern waters. There was a war in the south and they hidout in the Arctic. All the nations became too drained of power—fueland man and will—to fight, so there was a sterile peace for a longtime.      The Interregnum     roamed the seas restlessly, with her load ofpassengers from the future, plus one bored and aging contemporary. Shebore big guns now, because of the ever-present danger of pirates.  <doc-sep>Martin was never left alone for a minute. He wasn't allowed to playwith the other kids in the new neighborhood. Not that their parentswould have let them, anyway. The adults obviously figured that ifa one-car family hired private tutors for their kid, there must besomething pretty wrong with him. So Martin and Ninian were just asconspicuous as before. But he didn't tip her off. She was grown up; shewas supposed to know better than he did.     He lived well. He had food to eat that he'd never dreamed of before,warm clothes that no one had ever worn before him. He was surrounded bymore luxury than he knew what to do with.     The furniture was the latest New Grand Rapids African modern. Therewere tidy, colorful Picasso and Braque prints on the walls. And everyinch of the floor was modestly covered by carpeting, though the wallswere mostly unabashed glass. There were hot water and heat all the timeand a freezer well stocked with food—somewhat erratically chosen, forNinian didn't know much about meals.     The non-glass part of the house was of neat, natural-toned wood, with aneat green lawn in front and a neat parti-colored garden in back.     Martin missed the old neighborhood, though. He missed having otherkids to play with. He even missed his mother. Sure, she hadn't givenhim enough to eat and she'd beaten him up so hard sometimes that she'dnearly killed him—but then there had also been times when she'd huggedand kissed him and soaked his collar with her tears. She'd done allshe could for him, supporting him in the only way she knew how—and ifrespectable society didn't like it, the hell with respectable society.     From Ninian and her cousins, there was only an impersonal kindness.They made no bones about the fact that they were there only to carryout a rather unpleasant duty. Though they were in the house with him,in their minds and in their talk they were living in another world—aworld of warmth and peace and plenty where nobody worked, except in thegovernment service or the essential professions. And they seemed tothink even that kind of job was pretty low-class, though better thanactually doing anything with the hands.     In their world, Martin came to understand, nobody worked with hands;everything was done by machinery. All the people ever did was wearpretty clothes and have good times and eat all they wanted. There wasno devastation, no war, no unhappiness, none of the concomitants ofnormal living.     It was then that Martin began to realize that either the whole lot ofthem were insane, or what Ninian had told him at first was the truth.They came from the future.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How has Martin Kesserich dealt with the grief of losing Mary Alice in Yesterday House?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What makes newspapers a significant element in Yesterday House's plot? [SEP] <s>Suddenly he felt a surge of relief. He had noticed that the paper wasyellow and brittle-edged.     Why are you so interested in old newspapers? he asked.     I wouldn't call day-before-yesterday's paper old, the girl objected,pointing at the dateline: July 20, 1933.     You're trying to joke, Jack told her.     No, I'm not.     But it's 1953.     Now it's you who are joking.     But the paper's yellow.     The paper's always yellow.     He laughed uneasily. Well, if you actually think it's 1933, perhapsyou're to be envied, he said, with a sardonic humor he didn't quitefeel. Then you can't know anything about the Second World War, ortelevision, or the V-2s, or Bikini bathing suits, or the atomic bomb,or—     Stop! She had sprung up and retreated around her chair, white-faced.I don't like what you're saying.     But—     No, please! Jokes that may be quite harmless on the mainland sounddifferent here.     I'm really not joking, he said after a moment.     She grew quite frantic at that. I can show you all last week's papers!I can show you magazines and other things. I can prove it!     She started toward the house. He followed. He felt his heart begin topound.     At the white door she paused, looking worriedly down the road. Jackthought he could hear the faint      chug     of a motorboat. She pushed openthe door and he followed her inside. The small-windowed room was darkafter the sunlight. Jack got an impression of solid old furniture, afireplace with brass andirons.     Flash! croaked a gritty voice. After their disastrous break daybefore yesterday, stocks are recovering. Leading issues....     Jack realized that he had started and had involuntarily put his armaround the girl's shoulders. At the same time he noticed that the voicewas coming from the curved brown trumpet of an old-fashioned radioloudspeaker.     The girl didn't pull away from him. He turned toward her. Although hergray eyes were on him, her attention had gone elsewhere.     I can hear the car. They're coming back. They won't like it thatyou're here.     All right they won't like it.     Her agitation grew. No, you must go.     I'll come back tomorrow, he heard himself saying.     Flash! It looks as if the World Economic Conference may soon adjourn,mouthing jeers at old Uncle Sam who is generally referred to as UncleShylock.     Jack felt a numbness on his neck. The room seemed to be darkening, thegirl growing stranger still.     You must go before they see you.     Flash! Wiley Post has just completed his solo circuit of the Globe,after a record-breaking flight of 7 days, 18 hours and 45 minutes.Asked how he felt after the energy-draining feat, Post quipped....  <doc-sep>Trembling with excitement at this news from their book-keeper, Koltancalled an emergency meeting. He even routed old Kalrab out of hissenile stupor for the occasion, on the off chance that the old manmight still have a little wit left that could be helpful.     Note, Koltan announced in a shaky voice, that the Earthmen undermineour business, and he read off the figures.     Perhaps, said Zotul, it is a good thing also, as you said before,and will result in something even better for us.     Koltan frowned, and Zotul, in fear of another beating, instantlysubsided.     They are replacing our high-quality ceramic ware with inferiorterrestrial junk, Koltan went on bitterly. It is only the glamor thatsells it, of course, but before the people get the shine out of theireyes, we can be ruined.     The brothers discussed the situation for an hour, and all the whileFather Kalrab sat and pulled his scanty whiskers. Seeing that they gotnowhere with their wrangle, he cleared his throat and spoke up.     My sons, you forget it is not the Earthmen themselves at the bottomof your trouble, but the      things     of Earth. Think of the telegraph andthe newspaper, how these spread news of every shipment from Earth.The merchandise of the Earthmen is put up for sale by means of thesenewspapers, which also are the property of the Earthmen. The people areintrigued by these advertisements, as they are called, and flock tobuy. Now, if you would pull a tooth from the kwi that bites you, youmight also have advertisements of your own.     Alas for that suggestion, no newspaper would accept advertisingfrom the House of Masur; all available space was occupied by theadvertisements of the Earthmen.     In their dozenth conference since that first and fateful one, thebrothers Masur decided upon drastic steps. In the meantime, severalthings had happened. For one, old Kalrab had passed on to his immortalrest, but this made no real difference. For another, the Earthmen hadprocured legal authority to prospect the planet for metals, of whichthey found a good deal, but they told no one on Zur of this. Whatthey did mention was the crude oil and natural gas they discoveredin the underlayers of the planet's crust. Crews of Zurians, workingunder supervision of the Earthmen, laid pipelines from the gas and oilregions to every major and minor city on Zur.  <doc-sep>On the way around, Stevenson said, I believe you reported the carstolen almost immediately after it happened.     That's right, said Hastings. I stepped into a bar on my route. I'ma wine and liquor salesman. When I came out five minutes later, my carwas gone.     You left the keys in it?     Well, why not? demanded Hastings belligerently. If I'm making justa quick stop—I never spend more than five minutes with any onecustomer—I always leave the keys in the car. Why not?     The car was stolen, Stevenson reminded him.     Hastings grumbled and glared. It's always been perfectly safe up tillnow.     Yes, sir. In here.     Hastings took one look at his car and hit the ceiling. It's ruined!he cried. What did you do to the tires?     Not a thing, sir. That happened to them in the holdup.     Hastings leaned down over one of the front tires. Look at that!There's melted rubber all over the rims. Those rims are ruined! Whatdid you use, incendiary bullets?     Stevenson shook his head. No, sir. When that happened they were twoblocks away from the nearest policeman.     Hmph. Hastings moved on around the car, stopping short to exclaim,What in the name of God is that? You didn't tell me a bunch of      kids     had stolen the car.     It wasn't a bunch of kids, Stevenson told him. It was fourprofessional criminals, I thought you knew that. They were using it ina bank holdup.     Then why did they do      that     ?     Stevenson followed Hastings' pointing finger, and saw again thecrudely-lettered words, The Scorpion burned black into the paint ofthe trunk lid. I really don't know, he said. It wasn't there beforethe car was stolen?     Of course not!     Stevenson frowned. Now, why in the world did they do that?     I suggest, said Hastings with heavy sarcasm, you ask them that.     Stevenson shook his head. It wouldn't do any good. They aren't talkingabout anything. I don't suppose they'll ever tell us. He looked at thetrunk lid again. It's the nuttiest thing, he said thoughtfully....     That was on Wednesday.     The Friday afternoon mail delivery to the      Daily News     brought a crankletter. It was in the crank letter's most obvious form; that is,the address had been clipped, a letter or a word at a time, from anewspaper and glued to the envelope. There was no return address.     The letter itself was in the same format. It was brief and to the point:     Dear Mr. Editor:     The Scorpion has struck. The bank robbers were captured. The Scorpionfights crime. Crooks and robbers are not safe from the avengingScorpion. WARN YOUR READERS!     Sincerely yours,     THE SCORPION     The warning was duly noted, and the letter filed in the wastebasket. Itdidn't rate a line in the paper.      II     The bank robbery occurred in late June. Early in August, a Brooklyn manwent berserk.     It happened in Canarsie, a section in southeast Brooklyn near JamaicaBay. This particular area of Canarsie was a residential neighborhood,composed of one and two family houses. The man who went berserk was aMotor Vehicle Bureau clerk named Jerome Higgins.     Two days before, he had flunked a Civil Service examination for thethird time. He reported himself sick and spent the two days at home,brooding, a bottle of blended whiskey at all times in his hand.     As the police reconstructed it later, Mrs. Higgins had attempted toawaken him on the third morning at seven-thirty, suggesting that hereally ought to stop being so foolish, and go back to work. He thenallegedly poked her in the eye, and locked her out of the bedroom.     Mrs. Higgins then apparently called her sister-in-law, a Mrs. ThelmaStodbetter, who was Mr. Higgins' sister. Mrs. Stodbetter arrived at thehouse at nine o'clock, and spent some time tapping at the still-lockedbedroom door, apparently requesting Mr. Higgins to unlock the door andstop acting like a child. Neighbors reported to the police that theyheard Mr. Higgins shout a number of times, Go away! Can't you let aman sleep?     At about ten-fifteen, neighbors heard shots from the Higgins residence,a two-story one-family pink stucco affair in the middle of a block ofsimilar homes. Mr. Higgins, it was learned later, had suddenly eruptedfrom his bedroom, brandishing a .30-.30 hunting rifle and, beingannoyed at the shrieks of his wife and sister, had fired seven shellsat them, killing his wife on the spot and wounding his sister in thehand and shoulder.     Mrs. Stodbetter, wounded and scared out of her wits, raced screamingout the front door of the house, crying for the police and shouting,Murder! Murder! At this point, neighbors called the police. Oneneighbor additionally phoned three newspapers and two televisionstations, thereby earning forty dollars in news-tips rewards.  <doc-sep>IV     Morning sunlight brightened the colors of the wax flowers under glasson the high bureau that always seemed to emit the faint odor of oldhair combings. Jack pulled back the diamond-patterned quilt and blinkedthe sleep from his eyes. He expected his mind to be busy wonderingabout Kesserich and his wife—things said and half said last night—butfound instead that his thoughts swung instantly to Mary Alice Pope, asif to a farthest island in a world of people.     Downstairs, the house was empty. After a long look at the cabinet—hefelt behind it, but the key was gone—he hurried down to thewaterfront. He stopped only for a bowl of chowder and, as anafterthought, to buy half a dozen newspapers.     The sea was bright, the brisk wind just right for the      Annie O.     Therewas eagerness in the way it smacked the sail and in the creak of themast. And when he reached the cove, it was no longer still, but nervouswith faint ripples, as if time had finally begun to stir.     After the same struggle with the underbrush, he came out on the rockyspine and passed the cove of the sea urchins. The spiny creaturesstruck an uncomfortable chord in his memory.     This time he climbed the second island cautiously, scraping theinnocent-seeming ground ahead of him intently with a boathook he'dbrought along for the purpose. He was only a few yards from the fencewhen he saw Mary Alice Pope standing behind it.     He hadn't realized that his heart would begin to pound or that, at thesame time, a shiver of almost supernatural dread would go through him.     The girl eyed him with an uneasy hostility and immediately began tospeak in a hushed, hurried voice. You must go away at once and nevercome back. You're a wicked man, but I don't want you to be hurt. I'vebeen watching for you all morning.     He tossed the newspapers over the fence. You don't have to readthem now, he told her. Just look at the datelines and a few of theheadlines.     When she finally lifted her eyes to his again, she was trembling. Shetried unsuccessfully to speak.     Listen to me, he said. You've been the victim of a scheme to makeyou believe you were born around 1916 instead of 1933, and that it's1933 now instead of 1951. I'm not sure why it's been done, though Ithink I know who you really are.     But, the girl faltered, my aunts tell me it's 1933.     They would.     And there are the papers ... the magazines ... the radio.     The papers are old ones. The radio's faked—some sort of recording. Icould show you if I could get at it.           These     papers might be faked, she said, pointing to where she'd letthem drop on the ground.     They're new, he said. Only old papers get yellow.     But why would they do it to me?      Why?          Come with me to the mainland, Mary. That'll set you straight quickerthan anything.     I couldn't, she said, drawing back. He's coming tonight.     He?     The man who sends me the boxes ... and my life.     Jack shivered. When he spoke, his voice was rough and quick. A lifethat's completely a lie, that's cut you off from the world. Come withme, Mary.  <doc-sep>In the meantime, however, more things than pots came from Earth.One was a printing press, the like of which none on Zur had everdreamed. This, for some unknown reason and much to the disgust ofthe Lorians, was set up in Thorabia. Books and magazines poured fromit in a fantastic stream. The populace fervidly brushed up on itsscanty reading ability and bought everything available, overcome bythe novelty of it. Even Zotul bought a book—a primer in the Lorianlanguage—and learned how to read and write. The remainder of thebrothers Masur, on the other hand, preferred to remain in ignorance.     Moreover, the Earthmen brought miles of copper wire—more than enoughin value to buy out the governorship of any country on Zur—and set uptelegraph lines from country to country and continent to continent.Within five years of the first landing of the Earthmen, every majorcity on the globe had a printing press, a daily newspaper, and enjoyedthe instantaneous transmission of news via telegraph. And the businessof the House of Masur continued to look up.     As I have always said from the beginning, chortled Director Koltan,this coming of the Earthmen had been a great thing for us, andespecially for the House of Masur.     You didn't think so at first, Zotul pointed out, and was immediatelysorry, for Koltan turned and gave him a hiding, single-handed, for hisunthinkable impertinence.     It would do no good, Zotul realized, to bring up the fact that theirproduction of ceramic cooking pots had dropped off to about two percent of its former volume. Of course, profits on the line of new stovesgreatly overbalanced the loss, so that actually they were ahead; buttheir business was now dependent upon the supply of the metal pots fromEarth.     About this time, plastic utensils—dishes, cups, knives, forks—madetheir appearance on Zur. It became very stylish to eat with thenewfangled paraphernalia ... and very cheap, too, because foreverything they sold, the Earthmen always took the old ware in trade.What they did with the stuff had been hard to believe at first. Theydestroyed it, which proved how valueless it really was.     The result of the new flood was that in the following year, the sale ofMasur ceramic table service dropped to less than a tenth.  <doc-sep>  He  took a walk.     The town was just comingto life. People were strollingout of their houses, commentingon the weather, chucklingamiably about local affairs.Kids on bicycles were beginningto appear, jangling thelittle bells and hooting toeach other. A woman, hangingwash in the back yard,called out to him, thinkinghe was somebody else.     He found a little park, nomore than twenty yards incircumference, centeredaround a weatherbeaten monumentof some unrecognizablemilitary figure. Threeold men took their places onthe bench that circled theGeneral, and leaned on theircanes.     Sol was a civil engineer.But he made like a reporter.     Pardon me, sir. The oldman, leathery-faced, with afine yellow moustache, lookedat him dumbly. Have youever heard of Armagon?     You a stranger?     Yes.     Thought so.     Sol repeated the question.     Course I did. Been goin'there ever since I was a kid.Night-times, that is.     How—I mean, what kindof place is it?     Said you're a stranger?     Yes.     Then 'tain't your business.     That was that.     He left the park, and wanderedinto a thriving luncheonette.He tried questioningthe man behind the counter,who merely snickered andsaid: You stayin' with theDawes, ain't you? Better askWillie, then. He knows theplace better than anybody.     He asked about the execution,and the man stiffened.     Don't think I can talkabout that. Fella broke one ofthe Laws; that's about it.Don't see where you comeinto it.     At eleven o'clock, he returnedto the Dawes residence,and found Mom in thekitchen, surrounded by thewarm nostalgic odor of home-bakedbread. She told himthat her husband had left amessage for the stranger, informinghim that the StatePolice would be around to gethis story.     He waited in the house,gloomily turning the pages ofthe local newspaper, searchingfor references to Armagon.He found nothing.     At eleven-thirty, a brown-facedState Trooper came tocall, and Sol told his story.He was promised nothing,and told to stay in town untilhe was contacted again bythe authorities.     Mom fixed him a lightlunch, the greatest feature ofwhich was some hot biscuitsshe plucked out of the oven.It made him feel almost normal.     He wandered around thetown some more after lunch,trying to spark conversationwith the residents.     He learned little. <doc-sep>Will work, Macklin said thoughtfully. The operative word. It      hasn't     worked then?     Certainly it has, Ferris said. On rats, on chimps....     But not on humans? Macklin asked.     Not yet, Mitchell admitted.     Well, Macklin said. Well. He thumped pipe ashes out into his palm.Certainly you can get volunteers. Convicts. Conscientious objectorsfrom the Army.     We want you, Ferris told him.     Macklin coughed. I don't want to overestimate my value but thegovernment wouldn't like it very well if I died in the middle of thisproject. My wife would like it even less.     Ferris turned his back on the mathematician. Mitchell could see himmouthing the word      yellow     .     Doctor, Mitchell said quickly, I know it's a tremendous favor toask of a man of your position. But you can understand our problem.Unless we can produce quick, conclusive and dramatic proof of ourstudies we can get no more financial backing. We      should     run alarge-scale field test. But we haven't the time or money for that.We can cure the headaches of one person and that's the limit of ourresources.     I'm tempted, Macklin said hesitantly, but the answer is go. I mean'      no     '. I'd like to help you out, but I'm afraid I owe too much toothers to take the rest—the risk, I mean.     Macklin ran the back of his knuckles across his forehead. I reallywould like to take you up on it. When I start making slips like that itmeans another attack of migraine. The drilling, grinding pain throughmy temples and around my eyeballs. The flashes of light, the riotingpools of color playing on the back of my lids. Ugh.     Ferris smiled. Gynergen makes you sick, does it, doctor? Producesnausea, eh? The pain of that turns you almost wrong side out, doesn'tit? You aren't much better off with it than without, are you? I'veheard some say they preferred the migraine.     Macklin carefully arranged his pipe along with the tools he used totend it in a worn leather case. Tell me, he said, what is the worstthat could happen to me?     Low blood pressure, Ferris said.     That's not so bad, Macklin said. How low can it get?     When your heart stops, your blood pressure goes to its lowest point,Mitchell said.     A dew of perspiration had bloomed on Macklin's forehead. Is there muchrisk of that?     Practically none, Mitchell said. We have to give you the worstpossibilities.      All     our test animals survived and seem perfectly happyand contented. As I said, the virus is self-stabilizing. Ferris and Iare confident that there is no danger.... But we may be wrong.     Macklin held his head in both hands. Why did you two select      me     ?     You're an important man, doctor, Ferris said. Nobody would care ifMitchell or I cured ourselves of headaches—they might not even believeus if we said we did. But the proper authorities will believe a manof your reputation. Besides, neither of us has a record of chronicmigraine. You do.     Yes, I do, Macklin said. Very well. Go ahead. Give me yourinjection.     Mitchell cleared his throat. Are you positive, doctor? he askeduncertainly. Perhaps you would like a few days to think it over.     No! I'm ready. Go ahead, right now.     There's a simple release, Ferris said smoothly.     Macklin groped in his pocket for a pen.      II     Ferris! Mitchell yelled, slamming the laboratory door behind him.     Right here, the small man said briskly. He was sitting at a worktable, penciling notes. I've been expecting you.     Doctor—Harold—you shouldn't have given this story to thenewspapers, Mitchell said. He tapped the back of his hand against thefolded paper.     On the contrary, I should and I did, Ferris answered. We wantedsomething dramatic to show to the trustees and here it is.     Yes, we wanted to show our proof to the trustees—but not broadcastunverified results to the press. It's too early for that!     Don't be so stuffy and conservative, Mitchell! Macklin's cured, isn'the? By established periodic cycle he should be suffering hell rightnow, shouldn't he? But thanks to our treatment he is perfectly happy,with no unfortunate side effects such as gynergen produces.     It's a significant test case, yes. But not enough to go to thenewspapers with. If it wasn't enough to go to the press with, it wasn'tenough to try and breach the trustees with. Don't you see? The publicwill hand down a ukase demanding our virus, just as they demanded theSalk vaccine and the Grennell serum.     But—     The shrill call of the telephone interrupted Mitchell's objections.     Ferris excused himself and crossed to the instrument. He answered itand listened for a moment, his face growing impatient.     It's Macklin's wife, Ferris said. Do you want to talk to her? I'm nogood with hysterical women.     Hysterical? Mitchell muttered in alarm and went to the phone.     Hello? Mitchell said reluctantly. Mrs. Macklin?     You are the other one, the clear feminine voice said. Your name isMitchell.     She couldn't have sounded calmer or more self-possessed, Mitchellthought.     That's right, Mrs. Macklin. I'm Dr. Steven Mitchell, Dr. Ferris'sassociate.     Do you have a license to dispense narcotics?     What do you mean by that, Mrs. Macklin, Mitchell said sharply.     I used to be a nurse, Dr. Mitchell. I know you've given my husbandheroin.     That's absurd. What makes you think a thing like that?     The—trance he's in now.     Now, Mrs. Macklin. Neither Dr. Ferris or myself have been near yourhusband for a full day. The effects of a narcotic would have worn offby this time.     Most known narcotics, she admitted, but evidently you havediscovered something new. Is it so expensive to refine you and Ferrishave to recruit new customers to keep yourselves supplied?     Mrs. Macklin! I think I had better talk to you later when you arecalmer.     Mitchell dropped the receiver heavily. What could be wrong withMacklin? he asked without removing his hand from the telephone.     Ferris frowned, making quotation marks above his nose. Let's have alook at the test animals.     Together they marched over to the cages and peered through thehoneycomb pattern of the wire. The test chimp, Dean, was sittingpeacefully in a corner scratching under his arms with the back of hisknuckles. Jerry, their control in the experiment, who was practicallyDean's twin except that he had received no injection of the E-M Virus,was stomping up and down punching his fingers through the wire,worrying the lock on the cage.     Jerry      is     a great deal more active than Dean, Mitchell said.     Yes, but Dean isn't sick. He just doesn't seem to have as much nervousenergy to burn up. Nothing wrong with his thyroid either.     They went to the smaller cages. They found the situation with the rats,Bud and Lou, much the same.     I don't know. Maybe they just have tired blood, Mitchell ventured.     Iron deficiency anemia?     Never mind, doctor. It was a form of humor. I think we had better seeexactly what is wrong with Elliot Macklin.     There's nothing wrong with him, Ferris snapped. He's probably justtrying to get us in trouble, the ingrate!  <doc-sep>   Yesterday House     By FRITZ LEIBER     Illustrated by ASHMAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction August 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Meeting someone who's been dead for twenty       years is shocking enough for anyone with a       belief in ghosts—worse for one with none!        I     The narrow cove was quiet as the face of an expectant child, yet sonear the ruffled Atlantic that the last push of wind carried the      AnnieO.     its full length. The man in gray flannels and sweatshirt let thesail come crumpling down and hurried past its white folds at a gaitmade comically awkward by his cramped muscles. Slowly the rocky ledgecame nearer. Slowly the blue V inscribed on the cove's surface by thesloop's prow died. Sloop and ledge kissed so gently that he hardly hadto reach out his hand.     He scrambled ashore, dipping a sneaker in the icy water, and threw theline around a boulder. Unkinking himself, he looked back through thecove's high and rocky mouth at the gray-green scattering of islandsand the faint dark line that was the coast of Maine. He almost laughedin satisfaction at having disregarded vague warnings and done the thingevery man yearns to do once in his lifetime—gone to the farthestisland out.     He must have looked longer than he realized, because by the time hedropped his gaze the cove was again as glassy as if the      Annie O.     hadalways been there. And the splotches made by his sneaker on the rockhad faded in the hot sun. There was something very unusual about thequietness of this place. As if time, elsewhere hurrying frantically,paused here to rest. As if all changes were erased on this one bit ofEarth.     The man's lean, melancholy face crinkled into a grin at the banalfancy. He turned his back on his new friend, the little green sloop,without one thought for his nets and specimen bottles, and set out toexplore. The ground rose steeply at first and the oaks were close, butafter a little way things went downhill and the leaves thinned and hecame out on more rocks—and realized that he hadn't quite gone to thefarthest one out.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What makes newspapers a significant element in Yesterday House's plot?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in Tea Tray in the Sky? [SEP] <s>   Tea Tray in the Sky     By EVELYN E. SMITH     Illustrated by ASHMAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Visiting a society is tougher than being born       into it. A 40 credit tour is no substitute!        The picture changed on the illuminated panel that filled the forwardend of the shelf on which Michael lay. A haggard blonde woman sprawledapathetically in a chair.     Rundown, nervous, hypertensive? inquired a mellifluous voice. Inneed of mental therapy? Buy Grugis juice; it's not expensive. And theyswear by it on Meropé.     A disembodied pair of hands administered a spoonful of Grugis juice tothe woman, whereupon her hair turned bright yellow, makeup bloomed onher face, her clothes grew briefer, and she burst into a fast Callistanclog.     I see from your hair that you have been a member of one of theBrotherhoods, the passenger lying next to Michael on the shelfremarked inquisitively. He was a middle-aged man, his dust-brown hairthinning on top, his small blue eyes glittering preternaturally fromthe lenses fitted over his eyeballs.     Michael rubbed his fingers ruefully over the blond stubble on his scalpand wished he had waited until his tonsure were fully grown beforehe had ventured out into the world. But he had been so impatient toleave the Lodge, so impatient to exchange the flowing robes of theBrotherhood for the close-fitting breeches and tunic of the outer worldthat had seemed so glamorous and now proved so itchy.     Yes, he replied courteously, for he knew the first rule of universalbehavior, I have been a Brother.     Now why would a good-looking young fellow like you want to join aBrotherhood? his shelf companion wanted to know. Trouble over afemale?     Michael shook his head, smiling. No, I have been a member of theAngeleno Brotherhood since I was an infant. My father brought me whenhe entered.     The other man clucked sympathetically. No doubt he was grieved overthe death of your mother.     Michael closed his eyes to shut out the sight of a baby protruding itsfat face at him three-dimensionally, but he could not shut out itslisping voice: Does your child refuse its food, grow wizened like amonkey? It will grow plump with oh-so-good Mealy Mush from Nunki.     No, sir, Michael replied. Father said that was one of the fewblessings that brightened an otherwise benighted life.     Horror contorted his fellow traveller's plump features. Be careful,young man! he warned. Lucky for you that you are talking to someoneas broad-minded as I, but others aren't. You might be reported forviolating a tabu. An Earth tabu, moreover.     An Earth tabu?     Certainly. Motherhood is sacred here on Earth and so, of course, inthe entire United Universe. You should have known that.  <doc-sep>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>In the evening a girl brought Maitland his meal. As the door slidaside, he automatically stood up, and they stared at each other forseveral seconds.     She had the high cheekbones and almond eyes of an Oriental, skin thatglowed like gold in the evening light, yet thick coiled braids ofblonde hair that glittered like polished brass. Shorts and a sleevelessblouse of some thick, reddish, metallic-looking fabric clung to herbody, and over that she was wearing a light, ankle-length cloak of whatseemed to be white wool.     She was looking at him with palpable curiosity and something likeexpectancy. Maitland sighed and said, Hello, then glanced downself-consciously at his wrinkled green pajamas.       She smiled, put the tray of food on the table, and swept out, her cloakbillowing behind her. Maitland remained standing, staring at the closeddoor for a minute after she was gone.     Later, when he had finished the steak and corn on the cob and shreddedcarrots, and a feeling of warm well-being was diffusing from hisstomach to his extremities, he sat down on the bed to watch the sunsetand to think.     There were three questions for which he required answers before hecould formulate any plan or policy.     Where was he?     Who was Swarts?     What was the purpose of the tests he was being given?     It was possible, of course, that this was all an elaborate schemefor getting military secrets, despite Swarts' protestations to thecontrary. Maitland frowned. This place certainly didn't have theappearance of a military establishment, and so far there had beennothing to suggest the kind of interrogation to be expected fromforeign intelligence officers.     It might be better to tackle the first question first. He looked atthe Sun, a red spheroid already half below the horizon, and tried tothink of a region that had this kind of terrain. That prairie out therewas unique. Almost anywhere in the world, land like that would becultivated, not allowed to go to grass.     This might be somewhere in Africa....     He shook his head, puzzled. The Sun disappeared and its blood-huedglow began to fade from the sky. Maitland sat there, trying to gethold of the problem from an angle where it wouldn't just slip away.After a while the western sky became a screen of clear luminous blue,a backdrop for a pure white brilliant star. As always at that sight,Maitland felt his worry drain away, leaving an almost mystical sense ofpeace and an undefinable longing.     Venus, the most beautiful of the planets.     Maitland kept track of them all in their majestic paths through theconstellations, but Venus was his favorite. Time and time again hehad watched its steady climb higher and higher in the western sky,its transient rule there as evening star, its progression toward thehorizon, and loved it equally in its      alter ego     of morning star. Venuswas an old friend. An old friend....     Something icy settled on the back of his neck, ran down his spine, anddiffused into his body. He stared at the planet unbelievingly, fistsclenched, forgetting to breathe.     Last night Venus hadn't been there.     Venus was a morning star just now....       Just now!       He realized the truth in that moment.  <doc-sep>He woke in the morning with someone gently shaking his shoulder. Herolled over and looked up at the girl who had brought him his meal theevening before. There was a tray on the table and he sniffed the smellof bacon. The girl smiled at him. She was dressed as before, exceptthat she had discarded the white cloak.     As he swung his legs to the floor, she started toward the door,carrying the tray with the dirty dishes from yesterday. He stopped herwith the word, Miss!     She turned, and he thought there was something eager in her face.     Miss, do you speak my language?     Yes, hesitantly. She lingered too long on the hiss of the lastconsonant.     Miss, he asked, watching her face intently, what year is this?     Startlingly, she laughed, a mellow peal of mirth that had nothingforced about it. She turned toward the door again and said over hershoulder, You will have to ask Swarts about that. I cannot tell you.     Wait! You mean you don't know?     She shook her head. I cannot tell you.     All right; we'll let it go at that.     She grinned at him again as the door slid shut.  <doc-sep>They climbed the last two turns to the cafeteria, and entered to a richsubdued blend of soft music and quiet conversations. The cafeteriawas a section of the old dining room, left when the rest of the shiphad been converted to living and working quarters, and it still hadthe original finely grained wood of the ceiling and walls, the soundabsorbency, the soft music spools and the intimate small light at eachtable where people leisurely ate and talked.     They stood in line at the hot foods counter, and behind her Junecould hear a girl's voice talking excitedly through the murmur ofconversation.     —new man, honest! I saw him through the viewplate when they came in.He's down in the medical department. A real frontiersman.     The line drew abreast of the counters, and she and Max chose threeheaping trays, starting with hydroponic mushroom steak, raised inthe growing trays of water and chemicals; sharp salad bowl with rosetomatoes and aromatic peppers; tank-grown fish with special sauce; fourdifferent desserts, and assorted beverages.     Presently they had three tottering trays successfully maneuvered to atable. Brant St. Clair came over. I beg your pardon, Max, but they aresaying something about Reno carrying messages to a colony of savages,for the medical department. Will he be back soon, do you know?     Max smiled up at him, his square face affectionate. Everyone liked theshy Canadian. He's back already. We just saw him come in.     Oh, fine. St. Clair beamed. I had an appointment with him to go outand confirm what looks like a nice vein of iron to the northeast. Haveyou seen Bess? Oh—there she is. He turned swiftly and hurried away.     A very tall man with fiery red hair came in surrounded by an eagerlytalking crowd of ship people. It was Pat Mead. He stood in the doorway,alertly scanning the dining room. Sheer vitality made him seem evenlarger than he was. Sighting June, he smiled and began to thread towardtheir table.     Look! said someone. There's the colonist! Shelia, a pretty, jeweledwoman, followed and caught his arm. Did you      really     swim across ariver to come here?     Overflowing with good-will and curiosity, people approached from alldirections. Did you actually walk three hundred miles? Come, eat withus. Let me help choose your tray.     Everyone wanted him to eat at their table, everyone was a specialistand wanted data about Minos. They all wanted anecdotes about huntingwild animals with a bow and arrow.     He needs to be rescued, Max said. He won't have a chance to eat.     June and Max got up firmly, edged through the crowd, captured Pat andescorted him back to their table. June found herself pleased to beclaiming the hero of the hour.  <doc-sep>   HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS     By JIM HARMON     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Every lonely man tries to make friends.     Manet just didn't know when to stop!      William Manet was alone.     In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It wouldgive him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlateloneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take himto start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to beginteaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminablelectures to a bored and captive audience of one.     He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whetherit was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and asdirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal andthink more like a god than any man for generations.     But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearingbore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.     Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was alreadytalking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he hadcut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up andwinked at it whenever he passed that way.     Lately she was winking back at him.     Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh fromhis arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.     No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manetcould only be this lonely on Mars.     Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.     All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middleof the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat,flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in theblack sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moonsand one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The wholegimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one wasneeded here—no human being, at least.     The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn'ttake much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefullyspecified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycombMars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.     They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated peoplefor the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going toisolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manetand his fellows.     The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fareto Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuterservice for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodationsfor couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren'tproviding fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits betweenthe various Overseers. They weren't very providential.     But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offeredwonderful opportunities.     It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship makinga tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning asbright as envy.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>I really haven't the time to waste talking irrelevancies, Swarts saida while later. Honestly. Maitland, I'm working against a time limit.If you'll cooperate, I'll tell Ching to answer your questions.'     Ching?     Ingrid Ching is the girl who has been bringing you your meals.     Maitland considered a moment, then nodded. Swarts lowered the projectorto his eyes again, and this time the engineer did not resist.     That evening, he could hardly wait for her to come. Too excited to sitand watch the sunset, he paced interminably about the room, sometimeswhistling nervously, snapping his fingers, sitting down and jitteringone leg. After a while he noticed that he was whistling the same themeover and over: a minute's thought identified it as that exuberantmounting phrase which recurs in the finale of Beethoven's NinthSymphony.     He forgot about it and went on whistling. He was picturing himselfaboard a ship dropping in toward Mars, making planetfall at SyrtisMajor; he was seeing visions of Venus and the awesome beauty of Saturn.In his mind, he circled the Moon, and viewed the Earth as a huge brightglobe against the constellations....     Finally the door slid aside and she appeared, carrying the usual trayof food. She smiled at him, making dimples in her golden skin andrevealing a perfect set of teeth, and put the tray on the table.     I think you are wonderful, she laughed. You get everything youwant, even from Swarts, and I have not been able to get even a littleof what I want from him. I want to travel in time, go back to your 20thCentury. And I wanted to talk with you, and he would not let me. Shelaughed again, hands on her rounded hips. I have never seen him soirritated as he was this noon.     Maitland urged her into the chair and sat down on the edge of the bed.Eagerly he asked, Why the devil do you want to go to the 20th Century?Believe me, I've been there, and what I've seen of this world looks alot better.     She shrugged. Swarts says that I want to go back to the Dark Age ofTechnology because I have not adapted well to modern culture. Myself,I think I have just a romantic nature. Far times and places look moreexciting....     How do you mean— Maitland wrinkled his brow—adapt to modernculture? Don't tell me      you're     from another time!     Oh, no! But my home is Aresund, a little fishing village at the headof a fiord in what you would call Norway. So far north, we are muchbehind the times. We live in the old way, from the sea, speak the oldtongue.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in Tea Tray in the Sky?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What were the reasons for different planets introducing rules to the United Universe? [SEP] <s>Michael blushed. He should indeed. For a year prior to his leaving theLodge, he had carefully studied the customs and tabus of the Universeso that he should be able to enter the new life he planned for himself,with confidence and ease. Under the system of universal kinship, allthe customs and all the tabus of all the planets were the law on allthe other planets. For the Wise Ones had decided many years beforethat wars arose from not understanding one's fellows, not sympathizingwith them. If every nation, every planet, every solar system had thesame laws, customs, and habits, they reasoned, there would be nodifferences, and hence no wars.     Future events had proved them to be correct. For five hundred yearsthere had been no war in the United Universe, and there was peace andplenty for all. Only one crime was recognized throughout the solarsystems—injuring a fellow-creature by word or deed (and the telepathsof Aldebaran were still trying to add      thought     to the statute).     Why, then, Michael had questioned the Father Superior, was there anyreason for the Lodge's existence, any reason for a group of humans toretire from the world and live in the simple ways of their primitiveforefathers? When there had been war, injustice, tyranny, there had,perhaps, been an understandable emotional reason for fleeing theworld. But now why refuse to face a desirable reality? Why turn one'sface upon the present and deliberately go back to the life of thepast—the high collars, vests and trousers, the inefficient coalfurnaces, the rude gasoline tractors of medieval days?     The Father Superior had smiled. You are not yet a fully fledgedBrother, Michael. You cannot enter your novitiate until you've achievedyour majority, and you won't be thirty for another five years. Whydon't you spend some time outside and see how you like it?     Michael had agreed, but before leaving he had spent months studyingthe ways of the United Universe. He had skimmed over Earth, becausehe had been so sure he'd know its ways instinctively. Remembering hispreparations, he was astonished by his smug self-confidence.  <doc-sep>He could tell from their looks that the others did, but couldn't bringthemselves to put it into words.     I suppose it's the time-scale and the value-scale that are so hard forus to accept, he said softly. Much more, even, than the size-scale.The thought that there are creatures in the Universe to whom the wholecareer of Man—in fact, the whole career of life—is no more than a fewthousand or hundred thousand years. And to whom Man is no more than aminor stage property—a trifling part of a clever job of camouflage.     This time he went on, Fantasy writers have at times hinted all sortsof odd things about the Earth—that it might even be a kind of singleliving creature, or honeycombed with inhabited caverns, and so on.But I don't know that any of them have ever suggested that the Earth,together with all the planets and moons of the Solar System, mightbe....     In a whisper, Frieda finished for him, ... a camouflaged fleet ofgigantic spherical spaceships.           Your guess happens to be the precise truth.          At that familiar, yet dreadly unfamiliar voice, all four of them swungtoward the inner door. Dotty was standing there, a sleep-stupefiedlittle girl with a blanket caught up around her and dragging behind.Their own daughter. But in her eyes was a look from which they cringed.     She said, I am a creature somewhat older than what your geologistscall the Archeozoic Era. I am speaking to you through a number oftelepathically sensitive individuals among your kind. In each case mythoughts suit themselves to your level of comprehension. I inhabit thedisguised and jetless spaceship which is your Earth.     Celeste swayed a step forward. Baby.... she implored.     Dotty went on, without giving her a glance, It is true that we plantedthe seeds of life on some of these planets simply as part of ourcamouflage, just as we gave them a suitable environment for each. Andit is true that now we must let most of that life be destroyed. Ourhiding place has been discovered, our pursuers are upon us, and we mustmake one last effort to escape or do battle, since we firmly believethat the principle of mental privacy to which we have devoted ourexistence is perhaps the greatest good in the whole Universe.     But it is not true that we look with contempt upon you. Our whole raceis deeply devoted to life, wherever it may come into being, and it isour rule never to interfere with its development. That was one ofthe reasons we made life a part of our camouflage—it would make ourpursuers reluctant to examine these planets too closely.     Yes, we have always cherished you and watched your evolution withinterest from our hidden lairs. We may even unconsciously have shapedyour development in certain ways, trying constantly to educate you awayfrom war and finally succeeding—which may have given the betrayingclue to our pursuers.     Your planets must be burst asunder—this particular planet in thearea of the Pacific—so that we may have our last chance to escape.Even if we did not move, our pursuers would destroy you with us. Wecannot invite you inside our ships—not for lack of space, but becauseyou could never survive the vast accelerations to which you would besubjected. You would, you see, need very special accommodations, ofwhich we have enough only for a few.     Those few we will take with us, as the seed from which a new humanrace may—if we ourselves somehow survive—be born.  <doc-sep>   Tea Tray in the Sky     By EVELYN E. SMITH     Illustrated by ASHMAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Visiting a society is tougher than being born       into it. A 40 credit tour is no substitute!        The picture changed on the illuminated panel that filled the forwardend of the shelf on which Michael lay. A haggard blonde woman sprawledapathetically in a chair.     Rundown, nervous, hypertensive? inquired a mellifluous voice. Inneed of mental therapy? Buy Grugis juice; it's not expensive. And theyswear by it on Meropé.     A disembodied pair of hands administered a spoonful of Grugis juice tothe woman, whereupon her hair turned bright yellow, makeup bloomed onher face, her clothes grew briefer, and she burst into a fast Callistanclog.     I see from your hair that you have been a member of one of theBrotherhoods, the passenger lying next to Michael on the shelfremarked inquisitively. He was a middle-aged man, his dust-brown hairthinning on top, his small blue eyes glittering preternaturally fromthe lenses fitted over his eyeballs.     Michael rubbed his fingers ruefully over the blond stubble on his scalpand wished he had waited until his tonsure were fully grown beforehe had ventured out into the world. But he had been so impatient toleave the Lodge, so impatient to exchange the flowing robes of theBrotherhood for the close-fitting breeches and tunic of the outer worldthat had seemed so glamorous and now proved so itchy.     Yes, he replied courteously, for he knew the first rule of universalbehavior, I have been a Brother.     Now why would a good-looking young fellow like you want to join aBrotherhood? his shelf companion wanted to know. Trouble over afemale?     Michael shook his head, smiling. No, I have been a member of theAngeleno Brotherhood since I was an infant. My father brought me whenhe entered.     The other man clucked sympathetically. No doubt he was grieved overthe death of your mother.     Michael closed his eyes to shut out the sight of a baby protruding itsfat face at him three-dimensionally, but he could not shut out itslisping voice: Does your child refuse its food, grow wizened like amonkey? It will grow plump with oh-so-good Mealy Mush from Nunki.     No, sir, Michael replied. Father said that was one of the fewblessings that brightened an otherwise benighted life.     Horror contorted his fellow traveller's plump features. Be careful,young man! he warned. Lucky for you that you are talking to someoneas broad-minded as I, but others aren't. You might be reported forviolating a tabu. An Earth tabu, moreover.     An Earth tabu?     Certainly. Motherhood is sacred here on Earth and so, of course, inthe entire United Universe. You should have known that.  <doc-sep>A tall man, clad in a claw-hammer coat, came out from the wings andadvanced to the footlights.     People of Swamp City, he said, bowing, permit me to introducemyself. I am Doctor Universe, and these are my nine experts.     There was a roar of applause from the      Satellite     audience. When it hadsubsided, the man continued:     As most of you are familiar with our program, it will be unnecessaryto give any advance explanation. I will only say that on this stage arenine visi sets, each tuned to one of the nine planets. At transmittingsets all over these planets listeners will appear and voice questions.These questions, my nine experts will endeavor to answer. For everyquestion missed, the sender will receive a check for one thousand      planetoles     .     One thing more. As usual we have with us a guest star who will matchher wits with the experts. May I present that renowned writer ofscience fiction, Annabella C. Flowers.     From the left wing Grannie Annie appeared. She bowed and took her placeon the dais.     The Doctor's program began. The operator of the Earth visi twisted hisdials and nodded. Blue light flickered on the pantascope panel tocoalesce slowly into the face of a red-haired man. Sharp and dear hisvoice echoed through the theater:           Who was the first Earthman to titter the sunward side of Mercury?          Doctor Universe nodded and turned to Grannie Annie who had raised herhand. She said quietly:     Charles Zanner in the year 2012. In a specially constructedtracto-car.     And so it went. Questions from Mars, from Earth, from Saturn flowed inthe visi sets. Isolated miners on Jupiter, dancers in swank Plutoniancafes strove to stump the experts. With Doctor Universe offeringbantering side play, the experts gave their answers. When they failed,or when the Truthicator flashed a red light, he announced the name ofthe winner.     It grew a little tiresome after a while and I wondered why Grannie hadbrought me here. And then I began to notice things.     The audience in the      Satellite     seemed to have lost much of itsoriginal fervor. They applauded as before but they did so only at thesignal of Doctor Universe. The spell created by the man was complete.     Pompous and erect, he strode back and forth across the stage like ageneral surveying his army. His black eyes gleamed, and his thin lipswere turned in a smile of satisfaction.     When the last question had been answered I joined the exit-movingcrowd. It was outside under the street marquee that a strange incidentoccurred.     A yellow-faced Kagor from the upper Martian desert country shuffled by,dragging his cumbersome third leg behind him. Kagors, of course, had anunpleasant history of persecution since the early colonization days ofthe Red Planet. But the thing that happened there was a throw back toan earlier era.     Someone shouted, Yah, yellow-face! Down with all Kagors! As oneman the crowd took up the cry and surged forward. The helpless Kagorwas seized and flung to the pavement. A knife appeared from nowhere,snipped the Martian's single lock of hair. A booted foot bludgeonedinto his mouth.     Moments later an official hydrocar roared up and a dozen I.P. menrushed out and scattered the crowd. But a few stragglers lingered toshout derisive epithets.     Grannie Annie came out from behind the box office then. She took my armand led me around a corner and through a doorway under a sign that readTHE JET. Inside was a deep room with booths along one wall. The placewas all but deserted.     In a booth well toward the rear the old lady surveyed me with sobereyes.     Billy-boy, did you see the way that crowd acted?     I nodded. As disgraceful an exhibition as I've ever seen. The I.P. menought to clamp down.     The I.P. men aren't strong enough.     She said it quietly, but there was a glitter in her eyes and a harshline about her usually smiling lips.     What do you mean?  <doc-sep>Star Blade stood before a transmitter, and thought about death.     He was very close to it. Garrett stood five yards away, a gun inhis hand, and the muzzle trained on Blade's chest. The gun was theuniversally used weapon of execution, an old projectile-firing weapon.     Star did not doubt that Devil Garrett was an excellent shot with it.     The girl, very round-eyed and nervous, sat by Garrett. He had explainedto her that Garrett was the type of pirate that it is law to kill, orhave executed, by anyone. Which was very true.     A man stepped away from the transmitter, and nodded to Garrett. Starfelt a surge of hope, as he saw that it was a two-way transmitter. Ifthe image of an Interstellar Command headquarters was tuned in—Garrettwould undoubtedly do it, if only to show the police that he had killedStarrett Blade—then Garrett could not kill him and cut the beam intime to prevent one of the police from giving a cry that would echoover the sub-space beam arriving almost instantly in this room, and letthe girl know that she had been tricked. And Garrett would not wantthat. Not that it would matter to Starrett Blade.     Then Star saw what kind of a transmitter it was, and he groaned. Itwas not a Hineson Sub-space beamer ... it was an old-style transmitterwhich had different wave speeds, because of the different space-bridgerunits in it.     The visual image would arrive many seconds before the sound did. Thusthe girl would not hear Garrett revealed, but would see only Blade'sdeath. And then ... whatever Garrett had planned, Blade wished heartilythat he could have the chance to interfere.     The beam was coming in. Star saw the mists swimming on the screenchange, solidify into a figure ... the figure of District CommanderWeddel seated at a desk. He saw Weddel's eyebrows rise, saw his lipsmove—then Garrett stepped over a pace, and Weddel saw him, saw the gunin his hand....     The police officer yelled, silently, and came to his feet, anexpression of shocked surprise on his face—surprise, Blade thoughtdesperately, that the girl might interpret as shock at seeing DevilGarrett.     Which was right, in a way.     Then, as Commander Weddel leapt to his feet, as Devil Garrett'sfinger tightened on the trigger, as the girl sucked in her breathinvoluntarily, Star Blade scooped up a bit of metal—a fork—and flungit at the vision transmitter.     Not at the screen. But at the equipment behind the dial-board. At acertain small unit, which was almost covered by wires and braces forthe large tubes. And the fork struck it, bit deep, and caused result.     Result in the form of a burned-out set. If television equipment cancurse, that set cursed them. Its spitting of sparks and blue electricflame mingled with a strange, high-pitched whine.     It was the diversion that caused Garrett to miss Star, which gave himtime to pull three or four of Garrett's men onto the floor with him.One of the men drove the butt of a jet-gun into the side of Star'shead, and for the third time, he went very limp. The last thing he sawwas the girl.     Somehow, the expression on her face was different from what it hadbeen. He was searching for the difference, when the blow struckhim. Somewhere in the space that lies between consciousness andunconsciousness, he reflected bitterly that if he kept staring at thegirl when he should be fighting, he might not recover some day. Thiswas the third time that he had been knocked out that way. It was notgetting monotonous. He still felt it a novelty.     Star awoke in the same prison cell, facing the wall away from the door.He wondered if he were still alive, tried to move his head, and decidedthat he wasn't. He didn't even get up or look around when he dimlyheard the door being opened.     But when he heard the girl's voice, he came up and around very swiftly,despite his head.     It was the girl all right. Even through the tumbled mists of his brain,he could see that she was not a dream. And as he reeled and fellagainst the wall, she was beside him in a flash, her arm supporting him.  <doc-sep>About half an hour later, the door he couldn't open slid aside into thewall. The man Maitland had seen outside, now clad in gray trunks andsandals, stood across the threshold looking in at him. Maitland stoodup and stared back, conscious suddenly that in his rumpled pajamas hemade an unimpressive figure.     The fellow looked about forty-five. The first details Maitland noticedwere the forehead, which was quite broad, and the calm, clear eyes.The dark hair, white at the temples, was combed back, still damp fromswimming. Below, there was a wide mouth and a firm, rounded chin.     This man was intelligent, Maitland decided, and extremely sure ofhimself.     Somehow, the face didn't go with the rest of him. The man had the headof a thinker, the body of a trained athlete—an unusual combination.     Impassively, the man said, My name is Swarts. You want to know whereyou are. I am not going to tell you. He had an accent, European, butotherwise unidentifiable. Possibly German. Maitland opened his mouthto protest, but Swarts went on, However, you're free to do all theguessing you want. Still there was no suggestion of a smile.     Now, these are the rules. You'll be here for about a week. You'll havethree meals a day, served in this room. You will not be allowed toleave it except when accompanied by myself. You will not be harmed inany way, provided you cooperate. And you can forget the silly idea thatwe want your childish secrets about rocket motors. Maitland's heartjumped. My reason for bringing you here is altogether different. Iwant to give you some psychological tests....     Are you crazy? Maitland asked quietly. Do you realize that at thismoment one of the greatest hunts in history must be going on? I'lladmit I'm baffled as to where we are and how you got me here—but itseems to me that you could have found someone less conspicuous to giveyour tests to.     Briefly, then, Swarts did smile. They won't find you, he said. Now,come with me.  <doc-sep>Michael strained his ears past the racket of the advideo. Sure enough,he could make out words: Our wings were unfurled in a far distantworld, our bodies are pain-racked, delirious. And never, it seems, willwe see, save in dreams, the bright purple swamps of our Sirius....     Carpenter brushed away a tear. Poignant, isn't it?     Very, very touching, Michael agreed. Are they sick or something?     Oh, no; they wouldn't have been permitted on the bus if they were.They're just homesick. Sirians love being homesick. That's why theyleave Sirius in such great numbers.     Fasten your suction disks, please, the stewardess, a prettytwo-headed Denebian, ordered as she walked up and down the gangway.We're coming into Portyork. I have an announcement to make to allpassengers on behalf of the United Universe. Zosma was admitted intothe Union early this morning.     All the passengers cheered.     Since it is considered immodest on Zosma, she continued, ever toappear with the heads bare, henceforward it will be tabu to be seen inpublic without some sort of head-covering.     Wild scrabbling sounds indicated that all the passengers were searchingtheir packs for headgear. Michael unearthed a violet cap.     The salesmen unfolded what looked like a medieval opera hat inpiercingly bright green.       Always got to keep on your toes, he whispered to the younger man.The Universe is expanding every minute.     The bus settled softly on the landing field and the passengers flew,floated, crawled, undulated, or walked out. Michael looked around himcuriously. The Lodge had contained no extraterrestrials, for such ofthose as sought seclusion had Brotherhoods on their own planets.     Of course, even in Angeles he had seen other-worlders—humanoids fromVega, scaly Electrans, the wispy ubiquitous Sirians—but nothing tocompare with the crowds that surged here. Scarlet Meropians rubbedtentacles with bulging-eyed Talithans; lumpish gray Jovians ploddedalongside graceful, spidery Nunkians. And there were countless otherswhom he had seen pictured in books, but never before in reality.     The gaily colored costumes and bodies of these beings renderedkaleidoscopic a field already brilliant with red-and-green lights andbanners. The effect was enhanced by Mr. Carpenter, whose emerald-greencloak was drawn back to reveal a chartreuse tunic and olive-greenbreeches which had apparently been designed for a taller and somewhatless pudgy man.  <doc-sep>The traditional office of Planetary Dilettante was a civil-servicejob, awarded by competitive examination whenever it fell vacant tothe person who scored highest in intelligence, character and generalgloonatz. However, the tests were inadequate when it came to measuringsense of proportion, adaptiveness and charm—and there, Skkiru felt,was where the essential flaw lay. After all, no really effective testwould have let a person like Bbulas come out on top.     The winner was sent to Gambrell, the nearest planet with a TerranLeague University, to be given a thorough Terran-type education. Noindividual on Snaddra could afford such schooling, no matter howgreat his personal fortune, because the transportation costs were soimmense that only a government could afford them. That was the reasonwhy only one person in each generation could be chosen to go abroad atthe planet's expense and acquire enough finish to cover the rest of thepopulation.     The Dilettante's official function had always been, in theory, to servethe planet when an emergency came—and this, old Luccar, the formerPresident, had decided, when he and the Parliament had awakened to thefact that Snaddra was falling into ruin, was an emergency. So he had,after considerable soul-searching, called upon Bbulas to plan a methodof saving Snaddra—and Bbulas, happy to be in the limelight at last,had come up with this program.     It was not one Skkiru himself would have chosen. It was not one, hefelt, that any reasonable person would have chosen. Nevertheless, theBbulas Plan had been adopted by a majority vote of the Snaddrath,largely because no one had come up with a feasible alternative and,as a patriotic citizen, Skkiru would abide by it. He would accept thestatus of beggar; it was his duty to do so. Moreover, as in the case ofthe planet, there was no choice.     But all was not necessarily lost, he told himself. Had he not, in hisanthropological viewings—though Bbulas might have been the only oneprivileged to go on ethnological field trips to other planets, he wasnot the only one who could use a library—seen accounts of societieswhere beggarhood could be a rewarding and even responsible station inlife? There was no reason why, within the framework of the primitivesociety Bbulas had created to allure Terran anthropologists, Skkirushould not make something of himself and show that a beggar was worthyof the high priestess's hand—which would be entirely in the Terranprimitive tradition of romance.     Skkiru! Bbulas was screaming, as he spun, now that the Terrans wereout of ear- and eye-shot Skkiru, you idiot, listen to me! What arethose ridiculous things you are wearing on your silly feet?     Skkiru protruded all of his eyes in innocent surprise. Just someold pontoons I took from a wrecked air-car once. I have a habit ofcollecting junk and I thought—     Bbulas twirled madly in the air. You are not supposed to think. Leaveall the thinking to me!     Yes, Bbulas, Skkiru said meekly.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What were the reasons for different planets introducing rules to the United Universe?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the location where the events of Tea Tray in the Sky take place? [SEP] <s>   Tea Tray in the Sky     By EVELYN E. SMITH     Illustrated by ASHMAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Visiting a society is tougher than being born       into it. A 40 credit tour is no substitute!        The picture changed on the illuminated panel that filled the forwardend of the shelf on which Michael lay. A haggard blonde woman sprawledapathetically in a chair.     Rundown, nervous, hypertensive? inquired a mellifluous voice. Inneed of mental therapy? Buy Grugis juice; it's not expensive. And theyswear by it on Meropé.     A disembodied pair of hands administered a spoonful of Grugis juice tothe woman, whereupon her hair turned bright yellow, makeup bloomed onher face, her clothes grew briefer, and she burst into a fast Callistanclog.     I see from your hair that you have been a member of one of theBrotherhoods, the passenger lying next to Michael on the shelfremarked inquisitively. He was a middle-aged man, his dust-brown hairthinning on top, his small blue eyes glittering preternaturally fromthe lenses fitted over his eyeballs.     Michael rubbed his fingers ruefully over the blond stubble on his scalpand wished he had waited until his tonsure were fully grown beforehe had ventured out into the world. But he had been so impatient toleave the Lodge, so impatient to exchange the flowing robes of theBrotherhood for the close-fitting breeches and tunic of the outer worldthat had seemed so glamorous and now proved so itchy.     Yes, he replied courteously, for he knew the first rule of universalbehavior, I have been a Brother.     Now why would a good-looking young fellow like you want to join aBrotherhood? his shelf companion wanted to know. Trouble over afemale?     Michael shook his head, smiling. No, I have been a member of theAngeleno Brotherhood since I was an infant. My father brought me whenhe entered.     The other man clucked sympathetically. No doubt he was grieved overthe death of your mother.     Michael closed his eyes to shut out the sight of a baby protruding itsfat face at him three-dimensionally, but he could not shut out itslisping voice: Does your child refuse its food, grow wizened like amonkey? It will grow plump with oh-so-good Mealy Mush from Nunki.     No, sir, Michael replied. Father said that was one of the fewblessings that brightened an otherwise benighted life.     Horror contorted his fellow traveller's plump features. Be careful,young man! he warned. Lucky for you that you are talking to someoneas broad-minded as I, but others aren't. You might be reported forviolating a tabu. An Earth tabu, moreover.     An Earth tabu?     Certainly. Motherhood is sacred here on Earth and so, of course, inthe entire United Universe. You should have known that.  <doc-sep>In the evening a girl brought Maitland his meal. As the door slidaside, he automatically stood up, and they stared at each other forseveral seconds.     She had the high cheekbones and almond eyes of an Oriental, skin thatglowed like gold in the evening light, yet thick coiled braids ofblonde hair that glittered like polished brass. Shorts and a sleevelessblouse of some thick, reddish, metallic-looking fabric clung to herbody, and over that she was wearing a light, ankle-length cloak of whatseemed to be white wool.     She was looking at him with palpable curiosity and something likeexpectancy. Maitland sighed and said, Hello, then glanced downself-consciously at his wrinkled green pajamas.       She smiled, put the tray of food on the table, and swept out, her cloakbillowing behind her. Maitland remained standing, staring at the closeddoor for a minute after she was gone.     Later, when he had finished the steak and corn on the cob and shreddedcarrots, and a feeling of warm well-being was diffusing from hisstomach to his extremities, he sat down on the bed to watch the sunsetand to think.     There were three questions for which he required answers before hecould formulate any plan or policy.     Where was he?     Who was Swarts?     What was the purpose of the tests he was being given?     It was possible, of course, that this was all an elaborate schemefor getting military secrets, despite Swarts' protestations to thecontrary. Maitland frowned. This place certainly didn't have theappearance of a military establishment, and so far there had beennothing to suggest the kind of interrogation to be expected fromforeign intelligence officers.     It might be better to tackle the first question first. He looked atthe Sun, a red spheroid already half below the horizon, and tried tothink of a region that had this kind of terrain. That prairie out therewas unique. Almost anywhere in the world, land like that would becultivated, not allowed to go to grass.     This might be somewhere in Africa....     He shook his head, puzzled. The Sun disappeared and its blood-huedglow began to fade from the sky. Maitland sat there, trying to gethold of the problem from an angle where it wouldn't just slip away.After a while the western sky became a screen of clear luminous blue,a backdrop for a pure white brilliant star. As always at that sight,Maitland felt his worry drain away, leaving an almost mystical sense ofpeace and an undefinable longing.     Venus, the most beautiful of the planets.     Maitland kept track of them all in their majestic paths through theconstellations, but Venus was his favorite. Time and time again hehad watched its steady climb higher and higher in the western sky,its transient rule there as evening star, its progression toward thehorizon, and loved it equally in its      alter ego     of morning star. Venuswas an old friend. An old friend....     Something icy settled on the back of his neck, ran down his spine, anddiffused into his body. He stared at the planet unbelievingly, fistsclenched, forgetting to breathe.     Last night Venus hadn't been there.     Venus was a morning star just now....       Just now!       He realized the truth in that moment.  <doc-sep>The officer picked up the dollar bill and fingered it with evidentinterest. He turned it over and studied the printing. United States ofAmerica, he read aloud. What are those?     It's the name of the country I come from, Jeff said carefully.I—uh—got on the wrong train, apparently, and must have come furtherthan I thought. What's the name of this place?     This is Costa, West Goodland, in the Continental Federation. Say, youmust come from an umpty remote part of the world if you don't knowabout this country. His eyes narrowed. Where'd you learn to speakFederal, if you come from so far?     Jeff said helplessly, I can't explain, if you don't know about theUnited States. Listen, can you take me to a bank, or some place wherethey know about foreign exchange?     The policeman scowled. How'd you get into this country, anyway? Yougot immigrate clearance?     An angry muttering started among the bystanders.     The policeman made up his mind. You come with me.     At the police station, Jeff put his elbows dejectedly on the highcounter while the policeman talked to an officer in charge. Some menwhom Jeff took for reporters got up from a table and eased over tolisten.     I don't know whether to charge them with fakemake, bumsy, peekage orlunate, the policeman said as he finished.     His superior gave Jeff a long puzzled stare.     Jeff sighed. I know it sounds impossible, but a man brought me insomething he claimed was a time traveler. You speak the same language Ido—more or less—but everything else is kind of unfamiliar. I belongin the United States, a country in North America. I can't believe I'mso far in the future that the United States has been forgotten.     There ensued a long, confused, inconclusive interrogation.     The man behind the desk asked questions which seemed stupid to Jeff andgot answers which probably seemed stupid to him.     The reporters quizzed Jeff gleefully. Come out, what are youadvertising? they kept asking. Who got you up to this?     The police puzzled over his driver's license and the other cards in hiswallet. They asked repeatedly about the lack of a Work License, whichJeff took to be some sort of union card. Evidently there was gravedoubt that he had any legal right to be in the country.     In the end, Jeff and Ann were locked in separate cells for the night.Jeff groaned and pounded the bars as he thought of his wife, imprisonedand alone in a smelly jail. After hours of pacing the cell, he lay downin the cot and reached automatically for his silver pillbox. Then hehesitated.     In past weeks, his insomnia had grown worse and worse, so that latelyhe had begun taking stronger pills. After a longing glance at thebig red and yellow capsules, he put the box away. Whatever tomorrowbrought, it wouldn't find him slow and drowsy.      IV     He passed a wakeful night. In the early morning, he looked up to see alittle man with a briefcase at his cell door.     Wish joy, Mr. Elliott, the man said coolly. I am one of Mr. Bullen'sbarmen. You know, represent at law? He sent me to arrange your release,if you are ready to be reasonable.     Jeff lay there and put his hands behind his head. I doubt if I'mready. I'm comfortable here. By the way, how did you know where I was?     No problem. When we read in this morning's newspapers about a manclaiming to be a time traveler, we knew.     All right. Now start explaining. Until I understand where I am, Bullenisn't getting me out of here.     The lawyer smiled and sat down. Mr. Kersey told you yesterday—you'vegone back six years. But you'll need some mental gymnastics tounderstand. Time is a dimension, not a stream of events like a moviefilm. A film never changes. Space does—and time does. For example, ifa movie showed a burning house at Sixth and Main, would you expect tofind a house burning whenever you returned to that corner?     You mean to say that if I went back to 1865, I wouldn't find the CivilWar was over and Lincoln had been assassinated?     If you go back to the time you call 1865—which is most easilydone—you will find that the people there know nothing of a Lincoln orthat war.     Jeff looked blank. What are they doing then?     The little man spread his hands. What are the people doing now atSixth and Main? Certainly not the same things they were doing the dayof the fire. We're talking about a dimension, not an event. Don't yougrasp the difference between the two?     Nope. To me, 1865 means the end of the Civil War. How else can youspeak of a point in time except by the events that happened then?     Well, if you go to a place in three-dimensional space—say, a lakein the mountains—how do you identify that place? By looking forlandmarks. It doesn't matter that an eagle is soaring over a mountainpeak. That's only an event. The peak is the landmark. You follow me?     So far. Keep talking.  <doc-sep>He woke in the morning with someone gently shaking his shoulder. Herolled over and looked up at the girl who had brought him his meal theevening before. There was a tray on the table and he sniffed the smellof bacon. The girl smiled at him. She was dressed as before, exceptthat she had discarded the white cloak.     As he swung his legs to the floor, she started toward the door,carrying the tray with the dirty dishes from yesterday. He stopped herwith the word, Miss!     She turned, and he thought there was something eager in her face.     Miss, do you speak my language?     Yes, hesitantly. She lingered too long on the hiss of the lastconsonant.     Miss, he asked, watching her face intently, what year is this?     Startlingly, she laughed, a mellow peal of mirth that had nothingforced about it. She turned toward the door again and said over hershoulder, You will have to ask Swarts about that. I cannot tell you.     Wait! You mean you don't know?     She shook her head. I cannot tell you.     All right; we'll let it go at that.     She grinned at him again as the door slid shut.  <doc-sep>They climbed the last two turns to the cafeteria, and entered to a richsubdued blend of soft music and quiet conversations. The cafeteriawas a section of the old dining room, left when the rest of the shiphad been converted to living and working quarters, and it still hadthe original finely grained wood of the ceiling and walls, the soundabsorbency, the soft music spools and the intimate small light at eachtable where people leisurely ate and talked.     They stood in line at the hot foods counter, and behind her Junecould hear a girl's voice talking excitedly through the murmur ofconversation.     —new man, honest! I saw him through the viewplate when they came in.He's down in the medical department. A real frontiersman.     The line drew abreast of the counters, and she and Max chose threeheaping trays, starting with hydroponic mushroom steak, raised inthe growing trays of water and chemicals; sharp salad bowl with rosetomatoes and aromatic peppers; tank-grown fish with special sauce; fourdifferent desserts, and assorted beverages.     Presently they had three tottering trays successfully maneuvered to atable. Brant St. Clair came over. I beg your pardon, Max, but they aresaying something about Reno carrying messages to a colony of savages,for the medical department. Will he be back soon, do you know?     Max smiled up at him, his square face affectionate. Everyone liked theshy Canadian. He's back already. We just saw him come in.     Oh, fine. St. Clair beamed. I had an appointment with him to go outand confirm what looks like a nice vein of iron to the northeast. Haveyou seen Bess? Oh—there she is. He turned swiftly and hurried away.     A very tall man with fiery red hair came in surrounded by an eagerlytalking crowd of ship people. It was Pat Mead. He stood in the doorway,alertly scanning the dining room. Sheer vitality made him seem evenlarger than he was. Sighting June, he smiled and began to thread towardtheir table.     Look! said someone. There's the colonist! Shelia, a pretty, jeweledwoman, followed and caught his arm. Did you      really     swim across ariver to come here?     Overflowing with good-will and curiosity, people approached from alldirections. Did you actually walk three hundred miles? Come, eat withus. Let me help choose your tray.     Everyone wanted him to eat at their table, everyone was a specialistand wanted data about Minos. They all wanted anecdotes about huntingwild animals with a bow and arrow.     He needs to be rescued, Max said. He won't have a chance to eat.     June and Max got up firmly, edged through the crowd, captured Pat andescorted him back to their table. June found herself pleased to beclaiming the hero of the hour.  <doc-sep>I really haven't the time to waste talking irrelevancies, Swarts saida while later. Honestly. Maitland, I'm working against a time limit.If you'll cooperate, I'll tell Ching to answer your questions.'     Ching?     Ingrid Ching is the girl who has been bringing you your meals.     Maitland considered a moment, then nodded. Swarts lowered the projectorto his eyes again, and this time the engineer did not resist.     That evening, he could hardly wait for her to come. Too excited to sitand watch the sunset, he paced interminably about the room, sometimeswhistling nervously, snapping his fingers, sitting down and jitteringone leg. After a while he noticed that he was whistling the same themeover and over: a minute's thought identified it as that exuberantmounting phrase which recurs in the finale of Beethoven's NinthSymphony.     He forgot about it and went on whistling. He was picturing himselfaboard a ship dropping in toward Mars, making planetfall at SyrtisMajor; he was seeing visions of Venus and the awesome beauty of Saturn.In his mind, he circled the Moon, and viewed the Earth as a huge brightglobe against the constellations....     Finally the door slid aside and she appeared, carrying the usual trayof food. She smiled at him, making dimples in her golden skin andrevealing a perfect set of teeth, and put the tray on the table.     I think you are wonderful, she laughed. You get everything youwant, even from Swarts, and I have not been able to get even a littleof what I want from him. I want to travel in time, go back to your 20thCentury. And I wanted to talk with you, and he would not let me. Shelaughed again, hands on her rounded hips. I have never seen him soirritated as he was this noon.     Maitland urged her into the chair and sat down on the edge of the bed.Eagerly he asked, Why the devil do you want to go to the 20th Century?Believe me, I've been there, and what I've seen of this world looks alot better.     She shrugged. Swarts says that I want to go back to the Dark Age ofTechnology because I have not adapted well to modern culture. Myself,I think I have just a romantic nature. Far times and places look moreexciting....     How do you mean— Maitland wrinkled his brow—adapt to modernculture? Don't tell me      you're     from another time!     Oh, no! But my home is Aresund, a little fishing village at the headof a fiord in what you would call Norway. So far north, we are muchbehind the times. We live in the old way, from the sea, speak the oldtongue.  <doc-sep>Purnie worked his way down the hill, imploring them to save themselves.The sounds they made carried a new tone, a desperate foreboding ofdeath.     Rhodes! Cabot! Can you hear me?     I—I can't move, Captain. My leg, it's.... My God, we're going todrown!     Look around you, Cabot. Can you see anyone moving?     The men on the beach are nearly buried, Captain. And the rest of ushere in the water—     Forbes. Can you see Forbes? Maybe he's— His sounds were cut off by awavelet gently rolling over his head.     Purnie could wait no longer. The tides were all but covering one of theanimals, and soon the others would be in the same plight. Disregardingthe consequences, he ordered time to stop.     Wading down into the surf, he worked a log off one victim, then hetugged the animal up to the sand. Through blinding tears, Purnie workedslowly and carefully. He knew there was no hurry—at least, not as faras his friends' safety was concerned. No matter what their conditionof life or death was at this moment, it would stay the same way untilhe started time again. He made his way deeper into the orange liquid,where a raised hand signalled the location of a submerged body. Thehand was clutching a large white banner that was tangled among thelogs. Purnie worked the animal free and pulled it ashore.     It was the one who had been carrying the shiny object that spit smoke.     Scarcely noticing his own injured leg, he ferried one victim afteranother until there were no more in the surf. Up on the beach, hestarted unraveling the logs that pinned down the animals caught there.He removed a log from the lap of one, who then remained in a sittingposition, his face contorted into a frozen mask of agony and shock.Another, with the weight removed, rolled over like an iron statue intoa new position. Purnie whimpered in black misery as he surveyed thechaotic scene before him.     At last he could do no more; he felt consciousness slipping away fromhim.     He instinctively knew that if he lost his senses during a period oftime-stopping, events would pick up where they had left off ... withouthim. For Purnie, this would be death. If he had to lose consciousness,he knew he must first resume time.     Step by step he plodded up the little hill, pausing every now and thento consider if this were the moment to start time before it was toolate. With his energy fast draining away, he reached the top of theknoll, and he turned to look down once more on the group below.     Then he knew how much his mind and body had suffered: when he orderedtime to resume, nothing happened.     His heart sank. He wasn't afraid of death, and he knew that if he diedthe oceans would roll again and his friends would move about. But hewanted to see them safe.     He tried to clear his mind for supreme effort. There was no      urging     time to start. He knew he couldn't persuade it by bits and pieces,first slowly then full ahead. Time either progressed or it didn't. Hehad to take one viewpoint or the other.     Then, without knowing exactly when it happened, his mind tookcommand....  <doc-sep>   IT WAS A DULL, ROUTINE LITTLE     WORLD. IT DIDN'T EVEN HAVE A     CITY. EVERYTHING IT HAD WAS     IN THE GARDEN     BY R. A. LAFFERTY     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, March 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The protozoic recorder chirped like a bird. Not only would there belife traces on that little moon, but it would be a lively place. Sothey skipped several steps in the procedure.     The chordata discerner read      Positive     over most of the surface. Therewas spinal fluid on that orb, rivers of it. So again they omittedseveral tests and went to the cognition scanner. Would it show Thoughton the body?     Naturally they did not get results at once, nor did they expect to; itrequired a fine adjustment. But they were disappointed that they foundnothing for several hours as they hovered high over the rotation. Thenit came—clearly and definitely, but from quite a small location only.     Limited, said Steiner, as though within a pale. As though there werebut one city, if that is its form. Shall we follow the rest of thesurface to find another, or concentrate on this? It'll be twelve hoursbefore it's back in our ken if we let it go now.     Let's lock on this one and finish the scan. Then we can do the rest ofthe world to make sure we've missed nothing, said Stark.     There was one more test to run, one very tricky and difficult ofanalysis, that with the Extraordinary Perception Locator. This wasdesigned simply to locate a source of superior thought. But this mightbe so varied or so unfamiliar that often both the machine and thedesigner of it were puzzled as to how to read the results.     The E. P. Locator had been designed by Glaser. But when the Locatorhad refused to read      Positive     when turned on the inventor himself,bad blood developed between machine and man. Glaser knew that he hadextraordinary perception. He was a much honored man in his field. Hetold the machine so heatedly.     The machine replied, with such warmth that its relays chattered, thatGlaser did      not     have extraordinary perception; he had only ordinaryperception to an extraordinary degree. There is a      difference     , themachine insisted.     It was for this reason that Glaser used that model no more, but builtothers more amenable. And it was for this reason also that the ownersof Little Probe had acquired the original machine so cheaply.     And there was no denying that the Extraordinary Perception Locator (orEppel) was a contrary machine. On Earth it had read      Positive     on anumber of crack-pots, including Waxey Sax, a jazz tootler who could noteven read music. But it had also read      Positive     on ninety per cent ofthe acknowledged superior minds of the Earth. In space it had been asound guide to the unusual intelligences encountered. Yet on Suzuki-Miit had read      Positive     on a two-inch-long worm, only one of them out ofbillions. For the countless identical worms no trace of anything at allwas shown by the test.     So it was with mixed expectations that Steiner locked onto the areaand got a flick. He then narrowed to a smaller area (apparently oneindividual, though this could not be certain) and got very definiteaction. Eppel was busy. The machine had a touch of the ham in it, andassumed an air of importance when it ran these tests.     Finally it signaled the result, the most exasperating result it everproduces: the single orange light. It was the equivalent of the shrugof the shoulders in a man. They called it the You tell      me     light.     So among the intelligences there was at least one that might beextraordinary, though possibly in a crackpot way. It is good to beforewarned.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the location where the events of Tea Tray in the Sky take place?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What does the return journey signify in the story Tea Tray in the Sky? [SEP] <s>   Tea Tray in the Sky     By EVELYN E. SMITH     Illustrated by ASHMAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Visiting a society is tougher than being born       into it. A 40 credit tour is no substitute!        The picture changed on the illuminated panel that filled the forwardend of the shelf on which Michael lay. A haggard blonde woman sprawledapathetically in a chair.     Rundown, nervous, hypertensive? inquired a mellifluous voice. Inneed of mental therapy? Buy Grugis juice; it's not expensive. And theyswear by it on Meropé.     A disembodied pair of hands administered a spoonful of Grugis juice tothe woman, whereupon her hair turned bright yellow, makeup bloomed onher face, her clothes grew briefer, and she burst into a fast Callistanclog.     I see from your hair that you have been a member of one of theBrotherhoods, the passenger lying next to Michael on the shelfremarked inquisitively. He was a middle-aged man, his dust-brown hairthinning on top, his small blue eyes glittering preternaturally fromthe lenses fitted over his eyeballs.     Michael rubbed his fingers ruefully over the blond stubble on his scalpand wished he had waited until his tonsure were fully grown beforehe had ventured out into the world. But he had been so impatient toleave the Lodge, so impatient to exchange the flowing robes of theBrotherhood for the close-fitting breeches and tunic of the outer worldthat had seemed so glamorous and now proved so itchy.     Yes, he replied courteously, for he knew the first rule of universalbehavior, I have been a Brother.     Now why would a good-looking young fellow like you want to join aBrotherhood? his shelf companion wanted to know. Trouble over afemale?     Michael shook his head, smiling. No, I have been a member of theAngeleno Brotherhood since I was an infant. My father brought me whenhe entered.     The other man clucked sympathetically. No doubt he was grieved overthe death of your mother.     Michael closed his eyes to shut out the sight of a baby protruding itsfat face at him three-dimensionally, but he could not shut out itslisping voice: Does your child refuse its food, grow wizened like amonkey? It will grow plump with oh-so-good Mealy Mush from Nunki.     No, sir, Michael replied. Father said that was one of the fewblessings that brightened an otherwise benighted life.     Horror contorted his fellow traveller's plump features. Be careful,young man! he warned. Lucky for you that you are talking to someoneas broad-minded as I, but others aren't. You might be reported forviolating a tabu. An Earth tabu, moreover.     An Earth tabu?     Certainly. Motherhood is sacred here on Earth and so, of course, inthe entire United Universe. You should have known that.  <doc-sep>In the evening a girl brought Maitland his meal. As the door slidaside, he automatically stood up, and they stared at each other forseveral seconds.     She had the high cheekbones and almond eyes of an Oriental, skin thatglowed like gold in the evening light, yet thick coiled braids ofblonde hair that glittered like polished brass. Shorts and a sleevelessblouse of some thick, reddish, metallic-looking fabric clung to herbody, and over that she was wearing a light, ankle-length cloak of whatseemed to be white wool.     She was looking at him with palpable curiosity and something likeexpectancy. Maitland sighed and said, Hello, then glanced downself-consciously at his wrinkled green pajamas.       She smiled, put the tray of food on the table, and swept out, her cloakbillowing behind her. Maitland remained standing, staring at the closeddoor for a minute after she was gone.     Later, when he had finished the steak and corn on the cob and shreddedcarrots, and a feeling of warm well-being was diffusing from hisstomach to his extremities, he sat down on the bed to watch the sunsetand to think.     There were three questions for which he required answers before hecould formulate any plan or policy.     Where was he?     Who was Swarts?     What was the purpose of the tests he was being given?     It was possible, of course, that this was all an elaborate schemefor getting military secrets, despite Swarts' protestations to thecontrary. Maitland frowned. This place certainly didn't have theappearance of a military establishment, and so far there had beennothing to suggest the kind of interrogation to be expected fromforeign intelligence officers.     It might be better to tackle the first question first. He looked atthe Sun, a red spheroid already half below the horizon, and tried tothink of a region that had this kind of terrain. That prairie out therewas unique. Almost anywhere in the world, land like that would becultivated, not allowed to go to grass.     This might be somewhere in Africa....     He shook his head, puzzled. The Sun disappeared and its blood-huedglow began to fade from the sky. Maitland sat there, trying to gethold of the problem from an angle where it wouldn't just slip away.After a while the western sky became a screen of clear luminous blue,a backdrop for a pure white brilliant star. As always at that sight,Maitland felt his worry drain away, leaving an almost mystical sense ofpeace and an undefinable longing.     Venus, the most beautiful of the planets.     Maitland kept track of them all in their majestic paths through theconstellations, but Venus was his favorite. Time and time again hehad watched its steady climb higher and higher in the western sky,its transient rule there as evening star, its progression toward thehorizon, and loved it equally in its      alter ego     of morning star. Venuswas an old friend. An old friend....     Something icy settled on the back of his neck, ran down his spine, anddiffused into his body. He stared at the planet unbelievingly, fistsclenched, forgetting to breathe.     Last night Venus hadn't been there.     Venus was a morning star just now....       Just now!       He realized the truth in that moment.  <doc-sep>He woke in the morning with someone gently shaking his shoulder. Herolled over and looked up at the girl who had brought him his meal theevening before. There was a tray on the table and he sniffed the smellof bacon. The girl smiled at him. She was dressed as before, exceptthat she had discarded the white cloak.     As he swung his legs to the floor, she started toward the door,carrying the tray with the dirty dishes from yesterday. He stopped herwith the word, Miss!     She turned, and he thought there was something eager in her face.     Miss, do you speak my language?     Yes, hesitantly. She lingered too long on the hiss of the lastconsonant.     Miss, he asked, watching her face intently, what year is this?     Startlingly, she laughed, a mellow peal of mirth that had nothingforced about it. She turned toward the door again and said over hershoulder, You will have to ask Swarts about that. I cannot tell you.     Wait! You mean you don't know?     She shook her head. I cannot tell you.     All right; we'll let it go at that.     She grinned at him again as the door slid shut.  <doc-sep>They climbed the last two turns to the cafeteria, and entered to a richsubdued blend of soft music and quiet conversations. The cafeteriawas a section of the old dining room, left when the rest of the shiphad been converted to living and working quarters, and it still hadthe original finely grained wood of the ceiling and walls, the soundabsorbency, the soft music spools and the intimate small light at eachtable where people leisurely ate and talked.     They stood in line at the hot foods counter, and behind her Junecould hear a girl's voice talking excitedly through the murmur ofconversation.     —new man, honest! I saw him through the viewplate when they came in.He's down in the medical department. A real frontiersman.     The line drew abreast of the counters, and she and Max chose threeheaping trays, starting with hydroponic mushroom steak, raised inthe growing trays of water and chemicals; sharp salad bowl with rosetomatoes and aromatic peppers; tank-grown fish with special sauce; fourdifferent desserts, and assorted beverages.     Presently they had three tottering trays successfully maneuvered to atable. Brant St. Clair came over. I beg your pardon, Max, but they aresaying something about Reno carrying messages to a colony of savages,for the medical department. Will he be back soon, do you know?     Max smiled up at him, his square face affectionate. Everyone liked theshy Canadian. He's back already. We just saw him come in.     Oh, fine. St. Clair beamed. I had an appointment with him to go outand confirm what looks like a nice vein of iron to the northeast. Haveyou seen Bess? Oh—there she is. He turned swiftly and hurried away.     A very tall man with fiery red hair came in surrounded by an eagerlytalking crowd of ship people. It was Pat Mead. He stood in the doorway,alertly scanning the dining room. Sheer vitality made him seem evenlarger than he was. Sighting June, he smiled and began to thread towardtheir table.     Look! said someone. There's the colonist! Shelia, a pretty, jeweledwoman, followed and caught his arm. Did you      really     swim across ariver to come here?     Overflowing with good-will and curiosity, people approached from alldirections. Did you actually walk three hundred miles? Come, eat withus. Let me help choose your tray.     Everyone wanted him to eat at their table, everyone was a specialistand wanted data about Minos. They all wanted anecdotes about huntingwild animals with a bow and arrow.     He needs to be rescued, Max said. He won't have a chance to eat.     June and Max got up firmly, edged through the crowd, captured Pat andescorted him back to their table. June found herself pleased to beclaiming the hero of the hour.  <doc-sep>The tracks of his earlier journey had been erased by the soft rain, andwhen Kaiser reached the river, he found that he had not returned tothe village he had visited the day before. However, there were otherseal-people here.     And they were almost human!     The resemblance was still not so much in their physical makeup—thatwas little changed from the first he had found—as in their obviouslygreater intelligence.     This was mainly noticeable in their facile expressions as they talked.Kaiser was even certain that he read smiles on their faces when heslipped on a particularly slick mud patch as he hurried toward them.Where the members of the first tribes had all looked almost exactlyalike, these had very marked individual characteristics. Also, thesehad no odor—only a mild, rather pleasing scent. When they came to meethim, Kaiser could detect distinct syllabism in their pipings.     Most of the natives returned to the river after the first ten minutesof curious inspection, but two stayed behind as Kaiser set up his tent.     One was a female.     They made small noises while he went about his work. After a time, heunderstood that they were trying to give names to his paraphernalia. Hetried saying tent and wire and tarp as he handled each object,but their piping voices could not repeat the words. Kaiser amusedhimself by trying to imitate their sounds for the articles. He wasfairly successful. He was certain that he could soon learn enough tocarry on a limited conversation.     The male became bored after a time and left, but the girl stayed untilKaiser finished. She motioned to him then to follow. When they reachedthe river bank, he saw that she wanted him to go into the water.  <doc-sep>Now Crifer said, I've been reading again, Rikud.     Yes? Almost no one read any more, and the library was heavy with thesmell of dust. Reading represented initiative on the part of Crifer; itmeant that, in the two unoccupied hours before sleep, he went to thelibrary and listened to the reading machine. Everyone else simply satabout and talked. That was the custom. Everyone did it.     But if he wasn't reading himself, Rikud usually went to sleep. All thepeople ever talked about was what they had done during the day, and itwas always the same.     Yes, said Crifer. I found a book about the stars. They're alsocalled astronomy, I think.     This was a new thought to Rikud, and he propped his head up on oneelbow. What did you find out?     That's about all. They're just called astronomy, I think.     Well, where's the book? Rikud would read it tomorrow.     I left it in the library. You can find several of them under'astronomy,' with a cross-reference under 'stars.' They're synonymousterms.     You know, Rikud said, sitting up now, the stars in the viewport arechanging.     Changing? Crifer questioned the fuzzy concept as much as hequestioned what it might mean in this particular case.     Yes, there are less of them, and one is bigger and brighter than theothers.     Astronomy says some stars are variable, Crifer offered, but Rikudknew his lame-footed companion understood the word no better than hedid.     Over on Rikud's right, Chuls began to dress. Variability, he toldthem, is a contradictory term. Nothing is variable. It can't be.     I'm only saying what I read in the book, Crifer protested mildly.     Well, it's wrong. Variability and change are two words withoutmeaning.     People grow old, Rikud suggested.     A buzzer signified that his fifteen minutes under the rays were up, andChuls said, It's almost time for me to eat.     Rikud frowned. Chuls hadn't even seen the connection between the twoconcepts, yet it was so clear. Or was it? He had had it a moment ago,but now it faded, and change and old were just two words.     His own buzzer sounded a moment later, and it was with a strangefeeling of elation that he dressed and made his way back to theviewport. When he passed the door which led to the women's half of theworld, however, he paused. He wanted to open that door and see a woman.He had been told about them and he had seen pictures, and he dimlyremembered his childhood among women. But his feelings had changed;this was different. Again there were inexplicable feelings—strangechannelings of Rikud's energy in new and confusing directions.     He shrugged and reserved the thought for later. He wanted to see thestars again.  <doc-sep>Hi there! he called again; but now his mental attitude was that heexpected time to resume. It did! Immediately he was surrounded byactivity. He heard the roar of the crashing orange breakers, he tastedthe dew of acid that floated from the spray, and he saw his new friendscontinue the actions which he had stopped while back in the forest.     He knew, too, that at this moment, in the forest, the little brookpicked up its flow where it had left off, the purple clouds resumedtheir leeward journey up the valley, and the bees continued theirpollen-gathering without having missed a single stroke of theirdelicate wings. The brook, the clouds, and the insects had not beeninterrupted in the least; their respective tasks had been performedwith continuing sureness. It was time itself that Purnie had stopped,not the world around him.     He scampered around the rockpile and down the sandy cliff to meet thetripons who, to him, had just come to life.     I can stand on my head! He set down his lunch and balanced himselfbottoms-up while his legs pawed the air in an effort to hold him inposition. He knew it was probably the worst head-stand he had everdone, for he felt weak and dizzy. Already time-stopping had left itsmark on his strength. But his spirits ran on unchecked.     The tripon thought Purnie's feat was superb. It stopped munching longenough to give him a salutory wag of its rump before returning to itsrepast.     Purnie ran from pillar to post, trying to see and do everything atonce. He looked around to greet the flock of spora, but they had glidedto a spot further along the shore. Then, bouncing up to the first ofthe two-legged animals, he started to burst forth with his habitual Hithere! when he heard them making sounds of their own.     ... will be no limit to my operations now, Benson. This planet makesseventeen. Seventeen planets I can claim as my own!     My, my. Seventeen planets. And tell me, Forbes, just what the hell areyou going to do with them—mount them on the wall of your den back inSan Diego?     Hi there, wanna play? Purnie's invitation got nothing more thanstartled glance from the animals who quickly returned to their chatter.He scampered up the beach, picked up his lunch, and ran back to them,tagging along at their heels. I've got my lunch, want some?     Benson, you'd better tell your men back there to stop gawking atthe scenery and get to work. Time is money. I didn't pay for thisexpedition just to give your flunkies a vacation.  <doc-sep>When he smelled an acid sweetness that told him the ocean was not faroff, his pulse quickened in anticipation. Rather than spoil what wasclearly going to be a perfect day, he chose to ignore the fact that hehad been forbidden to use time-stopping as a convenience for journeyingfar from home. He chose to ignore the oft-repeated statement that anhour of time-stopping consumed more energy than a week of foot-racing.He chose to ignore the negative maxim that small children who stoptime without an adult being present, may not live to regret it.     He chose, instead, to picture the beaming praise of family and friendswhen they learned of his brave journey.     The journey was long, the clock stood still. He stopped long enough togather some fruit that grew along the path. It would serve as his lunchduring this day of promise. With it under his arm he bounded along adozen more steps, then stopped abruptly in his tracks.     He found himself atop a rocky knoll, overlooking the mighty sea!     He was so overpowered by the vista before him that his Hurrah! cameout as a weak squeak. The ocean lay at the ready, its stilled wavesawaiting his command to resume their tidal sweep. The breakers alongthe shoreline hung in varying stages of disarray, some having alreadyexploded into towering white spray while others were poised in smoothorange curls waiting to start that action.     And there were new friends everywhere! Overhead, a flock of spora werefrozen in a steep glide, preparatory to a beach landing. Purnie hadheard of these playful creatures many times. Today, with his brothersin school, he would have the pets all to himself. Further down thebeach was a pair of two-legged animals poised in mid-step, facingthe spot where Purnie now stood. Some distance behind them were eightmore, each of whom were motionless in a curious pose of interruptedanimation. And down in the water, where the ocean ran itself into thinnothingness upon the sand, he saw standing here and there the comicaltripons, those three-legged marine buffoons who made handsome careersof munching seaweed.     Hi there! Purnie called. When he got no reaction, he remembered thathe himself was dead to the living world: he was still in a zone oftime-stopping, on the inside looking out. For him, the world wouldcontinue to be a tableau of mannikins until he resumed time.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What does the return journey signify in the story Tea Tray in the Sky?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the connection between Michael and Mr. Carpenter in Tea Tray in the Sky? [SEP] <s>And now, smiled Carpenter as the two humans left the building, wemust see you registered for a nice family. Nothing too ostentatious,but, on the other hand, you mustn't count credits and ally yourselfbeneath your station.     Michael gazed pensively at two slender, snakelike Difdans writhingOnly 99 Shopping Days Till Christmas across an aquamarine sky.     They won't be permanent? he asked. The family, I mean?     Certainly not. You merely hire them for whatever length of time youchoose. But why are you so anxious?     The young man blushed. Well, I'm thinking of having a family of my ownsome day. Pretty soon, as a matter of fact.     Carpenter beamed. That's nice; you're being adopted! I do hope it'san Earth family that's chosen you—it's so awkward being adopted byextraterrestrials.     Oh, no! I'm planning to have my own. That is, I've got a—a girl,you see, and I thought after I had secured employment of some kind inPortyork, I'd send for her and we'd get married and....           Married!      Carpenter was now completely shocked. You      mustn't     usethat word! Don't you know marriage was outlawed years ago? Exclusivepossession of a member of the opposite sex is slavery on Talitha.Furthermore, supposing somebody else saw your—er—friend and wantedher also; you wouldn't wish him to endure the frustration of not havingher, would you?     Michael squared his jaw. You bet I would.     Carpenter drew himself away slightly, as if to avoid contamination.This is un-Universal. Young man, if I didn't have a kind heart, Iwould report you.     Michael was too preoccupied to be disturbed by this threat. You meanif I bring my girl here, I'd have to share her?     Certainly. And she'd have to share you. If somebody wanted you, thatis.     Then I'm not staying here, Michael declared firmly, ashamed to admiteven to himself how much relief his decision was bringing him. I don'tthink I like it, anyhow. I'm going back to the Brotherhood.     There was a short cold silence.     You know, son, Carpenter finally said, I think you might be right.I don't want to hurt your feelings—you      promise     I won't hurt yourfeelings? he asked anxiously, afraid, Michael realized, that he mightcall a policeman for ego injury.     You won't hurt my feelings, Mr. Carpenter.     Well, I believe that there are certain individuals who just cannotadapt themselves to civilized behavior patterns. It's much better forthem to belong to a Brotherhood such as yours than to be placed in oneof the government incarceratoriums, comfortable and commodious thoughthey are.     Much better, Michael agreed.     By the way, Carpenter went on, I realize this is just vulgarcuriosity on my part and you have a right to refuse an answer withoutfear of hurting my feelings, but how do you happen to have a—er—girlwhen you belong to a Brotherhood?     Michael laughed. Oh, 'Brotherhood' is merely a generic term. Bothsexes are represented in our society.     On Talitha— Carpenter began.     I know, Michael interrupted him, like the crude primitive he was andalways would be. But our females don't mind being generic.  <doc-sep>   Tea Tray in the Sky     By EVELYN E. SMITH     Illustrated by ASHMAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Visiting a society is tougher than being born       into it. A 40 credit tour is no substitute!        The picture changed on the illuminated panel that filled the forwardend of the shelf on which Michael lay. A haggard blonde woman sprawledapathetically in a chair.     Rundown, nervous, hypertensive? inquired a mellifluous voice. Inneed of mental therapy? Buy Grugis juice; it's not expensive. And theyswear by it on Meropé.     A disembodied pair of hands administered a spoonful of Grugis juice tothe woman, whereupon her hair turned bright yellow, makeup bloomed onher face, her clothes grew briefer, and she burst into a fast Callistanclog.     I see from your hair that you have been a member of one of theBrotherhoods, the passenger lying next to Michael on the shelfremarked inquisitively. He was a middle-aged man, his dust-brown hairthinning on top, his small blue eyes glittering preternaturally fromthe lenses fitted over his eyeballs.     Michael rubbed his fingers ruefully over the blond stubble on his scalpand wished he had waited until his tonsure were fully grown beforehe had ventured out into the world. But he had been so impatient toleave the Lodge, so impatient to exchange the flowing robes of theBrotherhood for the close-fitting breeches and tunic of the outer worldthat had seemed so glamorous and now proved so itchy.     Yes, he replied courteously, for he knew the first rule of universalbehavior, I have been a Brother.     Now why would a good-looking young fellow like you want to join aBrotherhood? his shelf companion wanted to know. Trouble over afemale?     Michael shook his head, smiling. No, I have been a member of theAngeleno Brotherhood since I was an infant. My father brought me whenhe entered.     The other man clucked sympathetically. No doubt he was grieved overthe death of your mother.     Michael closed his eyes to shut out the sight of a baby protruding itsfat face at him three-dimensionally, but he could not shut out itslisping voice: Does your child refuse its food, grow wizened like amonkey? It will grow plump with oh-so-good Mealy Mush from Nunki.     No, sir, Michael replied. Father said that was one of the fewblessings that brightened an otherwise benighted life.     Horror contorted his fellow traveller's plump features. Be careful,young man! he warned. Lucky for you that you are talking to someoneas broad-minded as I, but others aren't. You might be reported forviolating a tabu. An Earth tabu, moreover.     An Earth tabu?     Certainly. Motherhood is sacred here on Earth and so, of course, inthe entire United Universe. You should have known that.  <doc-sep>A large scarlet pencil jumped merrily across the advideo screen. Theface on the eraser opened its mouth and sang: Our pencils are finestfrom point up to rubber, for the lead is from Yed, while the wood comesfrom Dschubba.       Is there any way of turning that thing off? Michael wanted to know.     The other man smiled. If there were, my boy, do you think anybodywould watch it? Furthermore, turning it off would violate the spirit offree enterprise. We wouldn't want that, would we?     Oh, no! Michael agreed hastily. Certainly not.     And it might hurt the advertiser's feelings, cause him ego injury.     How could I ever have had such a ridiculous idea? Michael murmured,abashed.     Allow me to introduce myself, said his companion. My name isPierce B. Carpenter. Aphrodisiacs are my line. Here's my card. Hehanded Michael a transparent tab with the photograph of Mr. Carpentersuspended inside, together with his registration number, his name, hisaddress, and the Universal seal of approval. Clearly he was a characterof the utmost respectability.     My name's Michael Frey, the young man responded, smiling awkwardly.I'm afraid I don't have any cards.     Well, you wouldn't have had any use for them where you were. Now,look here, son, Carpenter went on in a lowered voice, I know you'vejust come from the Lodge and the mistakes you'll make will be throughignorance rather than deliberate malice. But the police wouldn'tunderstand. You know what the sacred writings say: 'Ignorance of TheLaw is no excuse.' I'd be glad to give you any little tips I can. Forinstance, your hands....     Michael spread his hands out in front of him. They were perfectly goodhands, he thought. Is there something wrong with them?     Carpenter blushed and looked away. Didn't you know that on Electra itis forbidden for anyone to appear in public with his hands bare?     Of course I know that, Michael said impatiently. But what's that gotto do with me?     The salesman was wide-eyed. But if it is forbidden on Electra, itbecomes automatically prohibited here.     But Electrans have eight fingers on each hand, Michael protested,with two fingernails on each—all covered with green scales.     Carpenter drew himself up as far as it was possible to do so whilelying down. Do eight fingers make one a lesser Universal?     Of course not, but—     Is he inferior to you then because he has sixteen fingernails?     Certainly not, but—     Would you like to be called guilty of— Carpenter paused before thedreaded word—      intolerance     ?     No, no,      no     ! Michael almost shrieked. It would be horrible for himto be arrested before he even had time to view Portyork. I have lotsof gloves in my pack, he babbled. Lots and lots. I'll put some onright away.  <doc-sep>The taxi let them off at a square meadow which was filled withtransparent plastic domes housing clocks of all varieties, most ofthe antique type based on the old twenty-four hour day instead of thestandard thirty hours. There were few extraterrestrial clocks becausemost non-humans had time sense, Michael knew, and needed no mechanicaldevices.     This, said Carpenter, is Times Square. Once it wasn't really square,but it is contrary to Nekkarian custom to do, say, imply, or permitthe existence of anything that isn't true, so when Nekkar entered theUnion, we had to square off the place. And, of course, install theclocks. Finest clock museum in the Union, I understand.     The pictures in my history books— Michael began.     Did I hear you correctly, sir? The capes of a bright blue cloaktrembled with the indignation of a scarlet, many-tentacled being. Didyou use the word      history     ? He pronounced it in terms of loathing. Ihave been grossly insulted and I shall be forced to report you to thepolice, sir.     Please don't! Carpenter begged. This youth has just come from one ofthe Brotherhoods and is not yet accustomed to the ways of our universe.I know that, because of the great sophistication for which your race isnoted, you will overlook this little gaucherie on his part.     Well, the red one conceded, let it not be said that Meropians arenot tolerant. But, be careful, young man, he warned Michael. Thereare other beings less sophisticated than we. Guard your tongue, or youmight find yourself in trouble.     He indicated the stalwart constable who, splendid in gold helmet andgold-spangled pink tights, surveyed the terrain haughtily from hisfloating platform in the air.     I should have told you, Carpenter reproached himself as the Meropianswirled off. Never mention the word 'history' in front of a Meropian.They rose from barbarism in one generation, and so they haven't anyhistory at all. Naturally, they're sensitive in the extreme about it.     Naturally, Michael said. Tell me, Mr. Carpenter, is there somespecial reason for everything being decorated in red and green? Inoticed it along the way and it's all over here, too.     Why, Christmas is coming, my boy, Carpenter answered, surprised.It's July already—about time they got started fixing things up. Someplaces are so slack, they haven't even got their Mother's Week shrinescleared away.  <doc-sep>Carpenter rubbed modestly gloved hands together. I have no immediatebusiness, so supposing I start showing you the sights. What would youlike to see first, Mr. Frey? Or would you prefer a nice, restful movid?     Frankly, Michael admitted, the first thing I'd like to do is getmyself something to eat. I didn't have any breakfast and I'm famished.Two small creatures standing close to him giggled nervously andscuttled off on six legs apiece.     Shh, not so loud! There are females present. Carpenter drew theyouth to a secluded corner. Don't you know that on Theemim it'sfrightfully vulgar to as much as speak of eating in public?     But why? Michael demanded in too loud a voice. What's wrong witheating in public here on Earth?     Carpenter clapped a hand over the young man's mouth. Hush, hecautioned. After all, on Earth there are things we don't do or evenmention in public, aren't there?     Well, yes. But those are different.     Not at all. Those rules might seem just as ridiculous to a Theemimian.But the Theemimians have accepted our customs just as we have acceptedthe Theemimians'. How would you like it if a Theemimian violatedone of our tabus in public? You must consider the feelings of theTheemimians as equal to your own. Observe the golden rule: 'Do untoextraterrestrials as you would be done by.'     But I'm still hungry, Michael persisted, modulating his voice,however, to a decent whisper. Do the proprieties demand that I starveto death, or can I get something to eat somewhere?     Naturally, the salesman whispered back. Portyork provides for allbodily needs. Numerous feeding stations are conveniently locatedthroughout the port, and there must be some on the field.     After gazing furtively over his shoulder to see that no females werewatching, Carpenter approached a large map of the landing field andpressed a button. A tiny red light winked demurely for an instant.     That's the nearest one, Carpenter explained.  <doc-sep>A bevy of tiny golden-haired, winged creatures circled slowly overTimes Square.     Izarians, Carpenter explained They're much in demand for Christmasdisplays.     The small mouths opened and clear soprano voices filled the air: Itcame upon the midnight clear, that glorious song of old, from angelsbending near the Earth to tune their harps of gold. Peace on Earth,good will to men, from Heaven's All-Celestial. Peace to the Universeas well and every extraterrestrial.... Beat the drum and clash thecymbals; buy your Christmas gifts at Nimble's.     This beautiful walk you see before you, Carpenter said, waving anexpository arm, shaded by boogil trees from Dschubba, is calledBroadway. To your left you will be delighted to see—     Listen, could we— Michael began.     —Forty-second Street, which is now actually the forty-second—     By the way—     It is extremely rude and hence illegal, Carpenter glared, tointerrupt anyone who is speaking.     But I would like, Michael whispered very earnestly, to get washed.If I might.     The other man frowned. Let me see. I believe one of the old landmarkswas converted into a lavatory. Only thing of suitable dimensions.Anyhow, it was absolutely useless for any other purpose. We have totake a taxi there; it's more than two hundred yards. Custom, you know.     A taxi? Isn't there one closer?     Ah, impatient youth! There aren't too many altogether. Theinstallations are extremely expensive.     They hailed the nearest taxi, which happened to be one of the varietyequipped with dancing girls. Fortunately the ride was brief.     Michael gazed at the Empire State Building with interest. It was in aremarkable state of preservation and looked just like the pictures inhis history—in his books, except that none of them showed the hugegolden sign Public-Washport riding on its spire.       Attendants directed traffic from a large circular desk in the lobby.Mercurians, seventy-eighth floor.      A     group Vegans, fourteenth floorright.      B     group, fourteenth floor left.      C     group, fifteenth floorright.      D     group, fifteenth floor left. Sirians, forty-ninth floor.Female humans fiftieth floor right, males, fiftieth floor left.Uranians, basement....     Carpenter and Michael shared an elevator with a group of sad-eyed,translucent Sirians, who were singing as usual and accompanyingthemselves on      wemps     , a cross between a harp and a flute. Foreignplanets are strange and we're subject to mange. Foreign atmospheresprove deleterious. Only with our mind's eye can we sail through the skyto the bright purple swamps of our Sirius.     The cost of the compartment was half that of the feeding station; onecredit in the slot unlocked the door. There was an advideo here, too:     Friend, do you clean yourself each day? Now, let's not be evasive,for each one has his favored way. Some use an abrasive and some useoil. Some shed their skins, in a brand-new hide emerging. Some rubwith grease put up in tins. For others there's deterging. Some lickthemselves to take off grime. Some beat it off with rope. Some cook itaway in boiling lime. Old-fashioned ones use soap. More ways there arethan I recall, and each of these will differ, but the only one thatworks for all is Omniclene from Kiffa.  <doc-sep>Carpenter gently urged the young man into the Algedian cab ... whichreeked. Michael held his nose, but his mentor shook his head. No, no!Tpiu Number Five is the most esteemed aroma on Algedi. It would breakthe driver's heart if he thought you didn't like it. You wouldn't wantto be had up for ego injury, would you?     Of course not, Michael whispered weakly.     Brunettes are darker and blondes are fairer, the advideo informedhim, when they wash out their hair with shampoos made on Chara.     After a time, Michael got more or less used to Tpiu Number Five andwas able to take some interest in the passing landscape. Portyork,the biggest spaceport in the United Universe, was, of course, themost cosmopolitan city—cosmopolitan in its architecture as well asits inhabitants. Silver domes of Earth were crowded next to the tallhelical edifices of the Venusians.     You'll notice that the current medieval revival has even reachedarchitecture, Carpenter pointed out. See those period houses in theFrank Lloyd Wright and Inigo Jones manner?     Very quaint, Michael commented.     Great floating red and green balls lit the streets, even though it wasstill daylight, and long scarlet-and-emerald streamers whipped outfrom the most unlikely places. As Michael opened his mouth to inquireabout this, We now interrupt the commercials, the advideo said, tobring you a brand new version of one of the medieval ballads that arebecoming so popular....       I shall scream, stated Carpenter, if they play      Beautiful BlueDeneb     just once more.... No, thank the Wise Ones, I've never heardthis before.     Thuban, Thuban, I've been thinking, sang a buxom Betelgeusian, whata Cosmos this could be, if land masses were transported to replace thewasteful sea.     I guess the first thing for me to do, Michael began in a businesslikemanner, is to get myself a room at a hotel.... What have I said now?     The word      hotel     , Carpenter explained through pursed lips, isnot used in polite society any more. It has come to have unpleasantconnotations. It means—a place of dancing girls. I hardly think....     Certainly not, Michael agreed austerely. I merely want a lodging.     That word is also—well, you see, Carpenter told him, on Zaniah itis unthinkable to go anywhere without one's family.     They're a sort of ant, aren't they? The Zaniahans, I mean.     More like bees. So those creatures who travel— Carpenter lowered hisvoice modestly —      alone     hire a family for the duration of their stay.There are a number of families available, but the better types comerather high. There has been talk of reviving the old-fashioned pricecontrols, but the Wise Ones say this would limit free enterprise asmuch as—if you'll excuse my use of the expression—tariffs would.  <doc-sep>Inside a small, white, functional-looking building unobtrusivelymarked Feeding Station, Carpenter showed Michael where to insert atwo-credit piece in a slot. A door slid back and admitted Michael intoa tiny, austere room, furnished only with a table, a chair, a foodcompartment, and an advideo. The food consisted of tabloid syntheticsand was tasteless. Michael knew that only primitive creatures wastetime and energy in growing and preparing natural foods. It was all amatter of getting used to this stuff, he thought glumly, as he tried tochew food that was meant to be gulped.     A ferret-eyed Yeddan appeared on the advideo. Do you suffer fromgastric disorders? Does your viscera get in your hair? A horridcondition, but swift abolition is yours with Al-Brom from Altair.     Michael finished his meal in fifteen minutes and left the compartmentto find Carpenter awaiting him in the lobby, impatiently glancing atthe luminous time dial embedded in his wrist.     Let's go to the Old Town, he suggested to Michael. It will be ofgreat interest to a student and a newcomer like yourself.     A few yards away from the feeding station, the travel agents were linedup in rows, each outside his spaceship, each shouting the advantages ofthe tour he offered:     Better than a mustard plaster is a weekend spent on Castor.     If you want to show you like her, take her for a week to Spica.     Movid stars go to Mars.     Carpenter smiled politely at them. No space trips for us today,gentlemen. We're staying on Terra. He guided the bewildered young manthrough the crowds and to the gates of the field. Outside, a number ofsurface vehicles were lined up, with the drivers loudly competing forbusiness.     Come, take a ride in my rocket car, suited to both gent and lady,lined with luxury      hukka     fur brought from afar, and perfumed with rarescents from Algedi.     Whichever movid film you choose to view will be yours in my finecab from Mizar. Just press a button—it won't cost you nuttin'—seea passionate drama of long-vanished Mu or the bloodhounds pursuingEliza.     All honor be laid at the feet of free trade, but, whatever your raceor your birth, each passenger curls up with two dancing girls who ridesin the taxi from Earth.     Couldn't we—couldn't we walk? At least part of the way? Michaelfaltered.     Carpenter stared. Walk! Don't you know it's forbidden to walk morethan two hundred yards in any one direction? Fomalhautians never walk.     But they have no feet.     That has nothing whatsoever to do with it.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the connection between Michael and Mr. Carpenter in Tea Tray in the Sky?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in The Beast-Jewel of Mars? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>   HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS     By JIM HARMON     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Every lonely man tries to make friends.     Manet just didn't know when to stop!      William Manet was alone.     In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It wouldgive him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlateloneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take himto start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to beginteaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminablelectures to a bored and captive audience of one.     He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whetherit was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and asdirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal andthink more like a god than any man for generations.     But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearingbore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.     Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was alreadytalking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he hadcut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up andwinked at it whenever he passed that way.     Lately she was winking back at him.     Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh fromhis arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.     No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manetcould only be this lonely on Mars.     Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.     All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middleof the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat,flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in theblack sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moonsand one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The wholegimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one wasneeded here—no human being, at least.     The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn'ttake much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefullyspecified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycombMars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.     They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated peoplefor the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going toisolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manetand his fellows.     The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fareto Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuterservice for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodationsfor couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren'tproviding fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits betweenthe various Overseers. They weren't very providential.     But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offeredwonderful opportunities.     It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship makinga tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning asbright as envy.  <doc-sep>  The Beast-Jewel of Mars     By V. E. THIESSEN     The city was strange, fantastic, beautiful.     He'd never been there before, yet already he     was a fabulous legend—a dire, hateful legend.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Spring 1955.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      He lay on his stomach, a lean man in faded one piece dungarees, and anodd metallic hat, peering over the side of the canal. Behind him thelittle winds sifted red dust into his collar, but he could not move; hecould only sit there with his gaze riveted on the spires and minaretsthat twinkled in the distance, far down the bottom of the canal.     One part of his mind said,      This is it, this is the fabled city ofMars. This is the beauty and the fantasy and the music of the legends,and I must go down there.     Yet somewhere deeper in his mind, deep inthe primal urges that kept him from death, the warning was taut andurgent.      Get away. They have a part of your mind now. Get away from thecity before you lose it all. Get away before your body becomes a husk,a soulless husk to walk the low canals with sightless eyes, like thosewho came before you.       He strained to push back from the edge, trying to get that fantasticbeauty out of his sight. He fought the lids of his eyes, fought toclose them while he pushed himself back, but they remained open,staring at the jeweled towers, and borne on the little winds the thinwail of music reached him, saying,      Come into the city, come down intothe fabled city     .     He slid over the edge, sliding down the sloping sides of the canal.The rough sandstone tore at his dungarees, tore at his elbow where ittouched but he did not feel the pain. His face was turned toward thetowers, and the sound of his breathing was less than human.     His feet caught a projecting bit of stone and were slowed for aninstant, so that he turned sideways and rolled on, down into the reddust bottom of the canal, to lie face down in the dust, with the chinstrap of the odd metallic hat cutting cruelly into his chin.     He lay there an instant, knowing that now he had a chance. With hisface down like this, and the dust smarting his eyes the image was gonefor an instant. He had to get away, he knew that. He had to mount thesides of the canal and never look back.     He told himself, I am Eric North, from Earth, the Third Planet of Sol,and this is not real.     He squirmed in the dust, feeling it bite his cheeks; he squirmed untilhe could get up and see nothing but the red sand stone walls of thecanal. He ran at the walls and clawed his way up like an animal in hishaste. He wouldn't look again.     The wind freshened and the tune of the music began to talk to him. Ittold of going barefoot over long streets of fur. It told of jewels, andwine, and women as fair as springtime. These and more were in the city,waiting for him to claim them.     He sobbed, and clawed forward. He stopped to rest, and slowly his headbegan to turn. He turned, and the spires and minarets twinkled at him,beautiful, soothing, stopping the tears that had welled down his cheeks.     When he reached the bottom of the canal he began to run toward the city.     When he came to the city there was a high wall around it, and a heavygate carved with lotus blossoms. He beat against the gate and cried,Oh! Let me in. Let me in to the city! The music was richer now, as ifit were everywhere, and the gate swung open without the faintest sound.     A sentinel stood before the opened gate at the end of a long bluestreet. He was dressed in red silk with his sleeves edged in blueleopard skin, and he wore a belt with a jeweled short sword. He drewthe sword from its scabbard, and bowed forward until the point of thesword touched the street of blue fur. He said, I give you the welcomeof my sword, and the welcome of the city. Speak your name so that itmay be set in the records of the dreamers.     The music sang, and the spires twinkled, and Eric said, I am EricNorth!     The sword point jerked, and the sentinel straightened. His face waswhite. He cried aloud, It is Eric the Bronze. It is Eric of theLegend. He whirled the sword aloft, and smashed it upon Eric's metalhat, and the hatred was a blue flame in his eyes.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>Eric caught a faint nod here, a gesture there. Kroon nodded as ifin satisfaction. He turned to the girl, And what is your opinion,Daughter of the City?     Nolette's expression held sorrow, as if she looked into the far future.She said, He is Eric the Bronze. I have no doubt.     Eric asked, And what is this Legend of Eric the Bronze? Why am I sodespised in the city?     Kroon answered, According to the Ancient Legend you will destroy thecity. This, and other things.     Eric gaped. No wonder the crowd had shown such hatred. But why werethe elders so friendly? They were obviously the governing body, and ifthere was strife between them and the people it had not shown in therespect the crowd had accorded Nolette.     Kroon said, I see you are puzzled. Let me tell you the story of theCity. The City is old. It dates from long ago when the canals of Marsran clear and green with water, and the deserts were vineyards andgardens. The drouth came, and the changes in climate, and soon itbecame plain that the people of Mars were doomed. They had ships, andcould build more, and gradually they left to colonize other planets.Yet they could take little of their science. And fear and riotsdestroyed much. Also there were those who were filled with love forthis homeland, and who thought that one day it might be habitableagain. All the skill of the ancient Martian fathers went into thebuilding of a giant machine, the machine that is the City, to protect asmall colony of those who were chosen to remain on Mars.     This whole city is a machine! Eric asked.     Yes, or the product of one. The heart of it lies underneath our feet,in caverns beneath this building. The nature of the machine is this,that it translates thought into reality.     Eric stared. The idea was staggering.     This is essentially simple, although the technology is complex. It isnecessary to have a recording device, to capture thought, a transmutingdevice capable of transmuting the red dust of the desert into anysort of material desired, and a construction device, to assemble thismaterial into the pattern already recorded from thought. Kroon paused.You still doubt, my friend. Perhaps you are thirsty after your escape.Think strongly of a tall glass of cold water, visualize it in yourmind, the sight and the fluidity and the touch of it.     Eric did so. Without warning a glass of water stood on the table beforehim. He touched the water to his lips. It was cool and satisfying. Hedrank it, convinced completely.     Eric asked, And I am to destroy the City?     Yes. The time has come.     But why? Eric demanded. For an instant he could see the twinklingbeauty as clearly as if he had stood outside the walls of this building.     Kroon said, There are difficulties. The machine builds according tothe mass will of the people, though it is sensitive to the individualin areas where it does not conflict with the imagination of the mass.We have had strangers, visitors, and even our own people, who grewdrunk with the power of the machine, who dreamed more and more lust andgreed into existence. These were banished from the city, and so strongis the call of the city that many of them became victims of their ownevilness, and now walk mindlessly, with no thought but to seek for thebeauty they have lost here.     Kroon sighed. The people have lost the will to learn. Many do not evenknow of the machine. Our science is almost gone, and only a few of us,the dreamers, the elders, have kept alive the old knowledge of themachine and its history. By the collected powers of our imagination webuild and control the outward appearance of the city.     We have passed this down from father to son. A part of the ancientLegend is that the builders made provisions for the machine to bedestroyed when contact with outsiders had been made once again, so thatour people would again have to struggle forward to knowledge and power.The instrument of destruction was to be a man termed Eric the Bronze.It is not that you are reborn. It is just that sometime such a manwould come.     Eric said, I can understand the Bronze part. They had thought that aspace man might well be sun tanned. They had thought that a science toprotect against this beautiful illusion would provide a metal shieldof some sort, probably copper in nature. That such a man should comeis inevitable. But why Eric. Why the name Eric?     For the first time Nolette spoke. She said quietly, The name Ericwas an honorable name of the ancient fathers. It must have been theirthought that the new beginning should wait for some of their own farflung kind to return.     Eric nodded. He asked, What happens now?     Nothing. Dwell here with us and you will be safe from our people. Ifthe prediction is not soon fulfilled and you are not the Eric of theLegend, you may stay or go as you desire.     My brother, Garve. What about him?     He loves the city. He will also stay, though he will be outside thisbuilding. Kroon clasped his hands. Nolette, will you show Eric hisquarters?  <doc-sep>They walked toward the ugly red mound that jutted above the green. Whenthey came close enough, he saw the bodies lying there ... the remains,actually, of what had once been bodies. He felt too sickened to go onwalking.     It may seem cruel now, she said, but the Martians realized thatthere is no cure for the will to conquer. There is no safety from it,either, as the people of Earth and Venus discovered, unless it isgiven an impossible obstacle to overcome. So the Martians provided theConquerors with a mountain. They themselves wanted to climb. They hadto.     He was hardly listening as he walked away from Helene toward the erodedhills. The crew members of the first four ships were skeletons tiedtogether with imperishably strong rope about their waists. Far beyondthem were those from      Mars V     , too freshly dead to have decayedmuch ... Anhauser with his rope cut, a bullet in his head; Jacobs andMarsha and the others ... Terrence much past them all. He had managedto climb higher than anyone else and he lay with his arms stretchedout, his fingers still clutching at rock outcroppings.     The trail they left wound over the ground, chipped in places for holds,red elsewhere with blood from torn hands. Terrence was more than twelvemiles from the ship—horizontally.     Bruce lifted Marsha and carried her back over the rocky dust, into thefresh fragrance of the high grass, and across it to the shade and peacebeside the canal.     He put her down. She looked peaceful enough, more peaceful than thatother time, years ago, when the two of them seemed to have shared somuch, when the future had not yet destroyed her. He saw the shadow ofHelene bend across Marsha's face against the background of the silentlyflowing water of the cool, green canal.     You loved her?     Once, Bruce said. She might have been sane. They got her when shewas young. Too young to fight. But she would have, I think, if she'dbeen older when they got her.     He sat looking down at Marsha's face, and then at the water with theleaves floating down it.     '... And the springs that flow on the floor of the valley will neverseem fresh or clear for thinking of the glitter of the mountain waterin the feathery green of the year....'     He stood up, walked back with Helene along the canal toward the calmcity. He didn't look back.     They've all been dead quite a while, Bruce said wonderingly. YetI seemed to be hearing from Terrence until only a short time ago.Are—are the climbers still climbing—somewhere, Helene?     Who knows? Helene answered softly. Maybe. I doubt if even theMartians have the answer to that.     They entered the city.   <doc-sep>Lethla half-crouched in the midst of the smell of death and thechugging of blood-pumps below. In the silence he reached up with quickfingers, tapped a tiny crystal stud upon the back of his head, and thehalves of a microscopically thin chrysalis parted transparently offof his face. He shucked it off, trailing air-tendrils that had beeninserted, hidden in the uniform, ending in thin globules of oxygen.     He spoke. Triumph warmed his crystal-thin voice. That's how I did it,Earthman.     Glassite! said Rice. A face-moulded mask of glassite!     Lethla nodded. His milk-blue eyes dilated. Very marvelously pared toan unbreakable thickness of one-thirtieth of an inch; worn only on thehead. You have to look quickly to notice it, and, unfortunately, viewedas you saw it, outside the ship, floating in the void, not discernibleat all.     Prickles of sweat appeared on Rice's face. He swore at the Venusian andthe Venusian laughed like some sort of stringed instrument, high andquick.     Burnett laughed, too. Ironically. First time in years a man ever cameaboard the Constellation alive. It's a welcome change.     Lethla showed his needle-like teeth. I thought it might be. Where'syour radio?     Go find it! snapped Rice, hotly.     I will. One hand, blue-veined, on the ladder-rungs, Lethla paused.I know you're weaponless; Purple Cross regulations. And this air-lockis safe. Don't move. Whispering, his naked feet padded white up theladder. Two long breaths later something crashed; metal and glass andcoils. The radio.     Burnett put his shoulder blades against the wall-metal, looking at hisfeet. When he glanced up, Rice's fresh, animated face was spoiled bythe new bitterness in it.     Lethla came down. Like a breath of air on the rungs.     He smiled. That's better. Now. We can talk—     Rice said it, slow:     Interplanetary law declares it straight, Lethla! Get out! Only deadmen belong here.     Lethla's gun grip tightened. More talk of that nature, and only deadmen there will be. He blinked. But first—we must rescue Kriere....     Kriere! Rice acted as if he had been hit in the jaw.     Burnett moved his tongue back and forth on his lips silently, his eyeslidded, listening to the two of them as if they were a radio drama.Lethla's voice came next:     Rather unfortunately, yes. He's still alive, heading toward Venusat an orbital velocity of two thousand m.p.h., wearing one of theseair-chrysali. Enough air for two more hours. Our flag ship was attackedunexpectedly yesterday near Mars. We were forced to take to thelife-boats, scattering, Kriere and I in one, the others sacrificingtheir lives to cover our escape. We were lucky. We got through theEarth cordon unseen. But luck can't last forever.     We saw your morgue ship an hour ago. It's a long, long way to Venus.We were running out of fuel, food, water. Radio was broken. Capturewas certain. You were coming our way; we took the chance. We set asmall time-bomb to destroy the life-rocket, and cast off, wearing ourchrysali-helmets. It was the first time we had ever tried using them totrick anyone. We knew you wouldn't know we were alive until it was toolate and we controlled your ship. We knew you picked up all bodies forbrief exams, returning alien corpses to space later.     Rice's voice was sullen. A set-up for you, huh? Traveling under theprotection of the Purple Cross you can get your damned All-Mighty safeto Venus.     Lethla bowed slightly. Who would suspect a Morgue Rocket of providingsafe hiding for precious Venusian cargo?     Precious is the word for you, brother! said Rice.     Enough! Lethla moved his gun several inches.     Accelerate toward Venus, mote-detectors wide open. Kriere must bepicked up—      now!       <doc-sep>She shook her head. There are no more Afrikanders.     Rebellion?     No. Intermarriage. Racial blending. There was a psychology of guiltbehind it. So huge a crime eventually required a proportionateexpiation. Afrikaans is still the world language, but there is only onerace now. No more masters or slaves.     They were both silent for a moment, and then she sighed. Let us nottalk about them any more.     Robot factories and farms, Maitland mused. What else? What means oftransportation? Do you have interstellar flight yet?     Inter-what?     Have men visited the stars?     She shook her head, bewildered.     I always thought that would be a tough problem to crack, he agreed.But tell me about what men are doing in the Solar System. How is lifeon Mars and Venus, and how long does it take to get to those places?     He waited, expectantly silent, but she only looked puzzled. I don'tunderstand. Mars? What are Mars?     After several seconds, Maitland swallowed. Something seemed to be thematter with his throat, making it difficult for him to speak. Surelyyou have space travel?     She frowned and shook her head. What does that mean—space travel?     He was gripping the edge of the bed now, glaring at her. Acivilization that could discover time travel and build robot factorieswouldn't find it hard to send a ship to Mars!     A      ship     ? Oh, you mean something like a      vliegvlotter     . Why, no, Idon't suppose it would be hard. But why would anyone want to do athing like that?     He was on his feet towering over her, fists clenched. She raised herarms as if to shield her face if he should hit her. Let's get thisperfectly clear, he said, more harshly than he realized. So far asyou know, no one has ever visited the planets, and no one wants to. Isthat right?     She nodded apprehensively. I have never heard of it being done.     He sank down on the bed and put his face in his hands. After a while helooked up and said bitterly, You're looking at a man who would givehis life to get to Mars. I thought I would in my time. I was positive Iwould when I knew I was in your time. And now I know I never will.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in The Beast-Jewel of Mars?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What kind of connection exists between Eric and the inhabitants of Mars in The Beast-Jewel of Mars? [SEP] <s>Eric caught a faint nod here, a gesture there. Kroon nodded as ifin satisfaction. He turned to the girl, And what is your opinion,Daughter of the City?     Nolette's expression held sorrow, as if she looked into the far future.She said, He is Eric the Bronze. I have no doubt.     Eric asked, And what is this Legend of Eric the Bronze? Why am I sodespised in the city?     Kroon answered, According to the Ancient Legend you will destroy thecity. This, and other things.     Eric gaped. No wonder the crowd had shown such hatred. But why werethe elders so friendly? They were obviously the governing body, and ifthere was strife between them and the people it had not shown in therespect the crowd had accorded Nolette.     Kroon said, I see you are puzzled. Let me tell you the story of theCity. The City is old. It dates from long ago when the canals of Marsran clear and green with water, and the deserts were vineyards andgardens. The drouth came, and the changes in climate, and soon itbecame plain that the people of Mars were doomed. They had ships, andcould build more, and gradually they left to colonize other planets.Yet they could take little of their science. And fear and riotsdestroyed much. Also there were those who were filled with love forthis homeland, and who thought that one day it might be habitableagain. All the skill of the ancient Martian fathers went into thebuilding of a giant machine, the machine that is the City, to protect asmall colony of those who were chosen to remain on Mars.     This whole city is a machine! Eric asked.     Yes, or the product of one. The heart of it lies underneath our feet,in caverns beneath this building. The nature of the machine is this,that it translates thought into reality.     Eric stared. The idea was staggering.     This is essentially simple, although the technology is complex. It isnecessary to have a recording device, to capture thought, a transmutingdevice capable of transmuting the red dust of the desert into anysort of material desired, and a construction device, to assemble thismaterial into the pattern already recorded from thought. Kroon paused.You still doubt, my friend. Perhaps you are thirsty after your escape.Think strongly of a tall glass of cold water, visualize it in yourmind, the sight and the fluidity and the touch of it.     Eric did so. Without warning a glass of water stood on the table beforehim. He touched the water to his lips. It was cool and satisfying. Hedrank it, convinced completely.     Eric asked, And I am to destroy the City?     Yes. The time has come.     But why? Eric demanded. For an instant he could see the twinklingbeauty as clearly as if he had stood outside the walls of this building.     Kroon said, There are difficulties. The machine builds according tothe mass will of the people, though it is sensitive to the individualin areas where it does not conflict with the imagination of the mass.We have had strangers, visitors, and even our own people, who grewdrunk with the power of the machine, who dreamed more and more lust andgreed into existence. These were banished from the city, and so strongis the call of the city that many of them became victims of their ownevilness, and now walk mindlessly, with no thought but to seek for thebeauty they have lost here.     Kroon sighed. The people have lost the will to learn. Many do not evenknow of the machine. Our science is almost gone, and only a few of us,the dreamers, the elders, have kept alive the old knowledge of themachine and its history. By the collected powers of our imagination webuild and control the outward appearance of the city.     We have passed this down from father to son. A part of the ancientLegend is that the builders made provisions for the machine to bedestroyed when contact with outsiders had been made once again, so thatour people would again have to struggle forward to knowledge and power.The instrument of destruction was to be a man termed Eric the Bronze.It is not that you are reborn. It is just that sometime such a manwould come.     Eric said, I can understand the Bronze part. They had thought that aspace man might well be sun tanned. They had thought that a science toprotect against this beautiful illusion would provide a metal shieldof some sort, probably copper in nature. That such a man should comeis inevitable. But why Eric. Why the name Eric?     For the first time Nolette spoke. She said quietly, The name Ericwas an honorable name of the ancient fathers. It must have been theirthought that the new beginning should wait for some of their own farflung kind to return.     Eric nodded. He asked, What happens now?     Nothing. Dwell here with us and you will be safe from our people. Ifthe prediction is not soon fulfilled and you are not the Eric of theLegend, you may stay or go as you desire.     My brother, Garve. What about him?     He loves the city. He will also stay, though he will be outside thisbuilding. Kroon clasped his hands. Nolette, will you show Eric hisquarters?  <doc-sep>  The Beast-Jewel of Mars     By V. E. THIESSEN     The city was strange, fantastic, beautiful.     He'd never been there before, yet already he     was a fabulous legend—a dire, hateful legend.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Spring 1955.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      He lay on his stomach, a lean man in faded one piece dungarees, and anodd metallic hat, peering over the side of the canal. Behind him thelittle winds sifted red dust into his collar, but he could not move; hecould only sit there with his gaze riveted on the spires and minaretsthat twinkled in the distance, far down the bottom of the canal.     One part of his mind said,      This is it, this is the fabled city ofMars. This is the beauty and the fantasy and the music of the legends,and I must go down there.     Yet somewhere deeper in his mind, deep inthe primal urges that kept him from death, the warning was taut andurgent.      Get away. They have a part of your mind now. Get away from thecity before you lose it all. Get away before your body becomes a husk,a soulless husk to walk the low canals with sightless eyes, like thosewho came before you.       He strained to push back from the edge, trying to get that fantasticbeauty out of his sight. He fought the lids of his eyes, fought toclose them while he pushed himself back, but they remained open,staring at the jeweled towers, and borne on the little winds the thinwail of music reached him, saying,      Come into the city, come down intothe fabled city     .     He slid over the edge, sliding down the sloping sides of the canal.The rough sandstone tore at his dungarees, tore at his elbow where ittouched but he did not feel the pain. His face was turned toward thetowers, and the sound of his breathing was less than human.     His feet caught a projecting bit of stone and were slowed for aninstant, so that he turned sideways and rolled on, down into the reddust bottom of the canal, to lie face down in the dust, with the chinstrap of the odd metallic hat cutting cruelly into his chin.     He lay there an instant, knowing that now he had a chance. With hisface down like this, and the dust smarting his eyes the image was gonefor an instant. He had to get away, he knew that. He had to mount thesides of the canal and never look back.     He told himself, I am Eric North, from Earth, the Third Planet of Sol,and this is not real.     He squirmed in the dust, feeling it bite his cheeks; he squirmed untilhe could get up and see nothing but the red sand stone walls of thecanal. He ran at the walls and clawed his way up like an animal in hishaste. He wouldn't look again.     The wind freshened and the tune of the music began to talk to him. Ittold of going barefoot over long streets of fur. It told of jewels, andwine, and women as fair as springtime. These and more were in the city,waiting for him to claim them.     He sobbed, and clawed forward. He stopped to rest, and slowly his headbegan to turn. He turned, and the spires and minarets twinkled at him,beautiful, soothing, stopping the tears that had welled down his cheeks.     When he reached the bottom of the canal he began to run toward the city.     When he came to the city there was a high wall around it, and a heavygate carved with lotus blossoms. He beat against the gate and cried,Oh! Let me in. Let me in to the city! The music was richer now, as ifit were everywhere, and the gate swung open without the faintest sound.     A sentinel stood before the opened gate at the end of a long bluestreet. He was dressed in red silk with his sleeves edged in blueleopard skin, and he wore a belt with a jeweled short sword. He drewthe sword from its scabbard, and bowed forward until the point of thesword touched the street of blue fur. He said, I give you the welcomeof my sword, and the welcome of the city. Speak your name so that itmay be set in the records of the dreamers.     The music sang, and the spires twinkled, and Eric said, I am EricNorth!     The sword point jerked, and the sentinel straightened. His face waswhite. He cried aloud, It is Eric the Bronze. It is Eric of theLegend. He whirled the sword aloft, and smashed it upon Eric's metalhat, and the hatred was a blue flame in his eyes.  <doc-sep>The return back to the city would always live in his mind as aphantasmagora, a montage of twisted hate and unseemly beauty. When hecame again to the gate he did not attempt to enter, but circled thewall, hat on, hat off, stiff limbed like a puppet dancing to the sametune over and over again. He found a place where he could scale thewall, and thrust the helmet on his head, and clawed up the misshapenwall. It was all he could do to make himself drop into the ugly city.     He heard a familiar voice as he dropped. Eric, the voice said. Eric,you did come back. The voice was his brother's, and he whirled,seeking the voice. A figure stood before him, a twisted caricature ofhis brother. The figure cried, The hat! You fool, get rid of thathat! The caricature that was his brother seized the hat, and jerkedso hard that the chin strap broke under Eric's chin. The hat was flungaway and sailed high and far over the fence and outside the city.     The phantasm flickered, the illusion moved. Garve was now more handsomethan ever, and the city was a dream of delight. Garve said, Come, andEric followed down a street of blue fur. He had no will to resist.     Garve said, Keep your head down and your face hidden. If we meetsomeone you may not be recognized. They won't be expecting you fromthis side of the city.     Eric asked, You knew I'd come after you?     Yes. The Legend said you'd be back.     Eric stopped and whirled to face his brother. The Legend? Eric theBronze? What is this wild fantasy?     Not so loud! Garve's voice cautioned him. Of course the crowd calledyou that because of the copper hat and your heavy tan. But the Eldersbelieve so too. I don't know what it is, Eric, reincarnation, prophesy,superstition, I only know that when I was with the Elders I believedthem. You are a part of a Legend. You are Eric the Bronze.     Eric looked down at his sun tanned hands and flexed them. He loosenedthe explosive pistol in its holster. At least he was going to be a wellarmed, well prepared Legend. And while one part of his mind marveledat the city and relaxed into a pleasure as deep as a dream, anotherstruggled with the almost forgotten desire to rescue his brother andescape. He asked, Who are the Elders?     We are going to them, to the center of the city. Garve's voicesharpened, Keep your head down. I think the last two men we passed arelooking after us. Don't look back.     After a moment Garve said, I think they are following us. Get readyto run. If we are separated, keep going until you reach City Center.The Elders will be expecting you. Garve glanced back, and his voicesharpened, Now! Run!     They ran. But as they ran figures began to converge upon them. Fartherup the street others appeared, cutting off their flight.     Garve cried, In here, and pulled Eric into a crevice between twobuildings. Eric drew his gun, and savagery began to dance in his eyes.The soft fur muffled sounds of pursuit closed in upon them.     Garve put one hand on Eric's gun hand and said, Wait here. And if youvalue my life, don't use that gun. Then he was gone, running deerlikedown the street.     For an instant Eric thought the ruse had succeeded. He heard cries andtwo men passed him running in pursuit. But then the cry came back. Lethim go. Get the other one. The other one.     Eric was seen an instant later, and the people of the city began toconverge upon him. He could have destroyed them all with his charges inthe gun, but his brother's warning shrieked in his ears, If you valuemy life don't use the gun.     There was nothing he could do. Eric stood quietly until he was takenprisoner. They moved him to the center of the wide fur street. Two menheld his arms, and twisted painfully. The crowd looked at him, coldly,calculatingly. One of them said, Get the whips. If we whip him he willnot come back. The city twinkled, and the music was so faint he couldhardly hear it.     There was only one weapon Eric could use. He had gathered from Garve'swords that these people were superstitious.     He laughed, a great chest-shattering laugh that gusted out into thethin Martian air. He laughed and cried in a great voice, And can youso easily dispose of a Legend? If I am Eric of the Legend, can whipsdefeat the prophesy?     There was an instant when he could have twisted loose. They stood,fear-bound at his words. But there was no place to hide, and withoutthe use of his weapons Eric could not have gone far. He had to bluff itout.  <doc-sep>Then one of the men cried, Fools! It is true. We must take no chancewith the whips. He would come back. But if he dies here before us now,then we may forget the prophesy.     The crowd murmured and a second voice cried, Get the sword, get theguards, and kill him at once!     Eric tensed to break away but now it was too late. His captors werealert. They increased the twist on his arms until he almost screamedwith the pain.     The crowd parted, and the guard came through, his red silk clothinggleaming in the sun, his sword bright and deadly. He stopped beforeEric, and the sword swirled up like a saber, ready for a slashing cutdownward across Eric's neck.     A woman's voice, soft and yet authoritative, called, Hold! And amurmur of respect rippled through the crowd.     Nolette! The Daughter of the City comes.     Eric turned his gaze to the side and saw the woman who had spoken. Shewas mounted upon a black horse with a jeweled bridle. She was young andher hair was long and free in the wind. She had ridden so softly acrossthe fur street that no one had been aware of her presence.       She said, Let me touch this man. Let me feel the pulse of his heart sothat I may know if he is truly the Bronze one of the Legend. Give meyour hand, stranger. She leaned down and grasped his hand. Eric shookhis arms free, and reached up and clung to the offered hand, thinking,If I pull her down perhaps I can use her as a shield. He tensed hismuscles and began to pull.     She cried, No! You fool. Come up on the horse, and pulled back withan energy as fierce as his own. Then he had swung up on the horse, andthe animal leaped forward, its muffled gallop beating out a tattoo offreedom.     Eric clung tightly to the girl's waist. He could feel the youngsuppleness of her body, and the fine strands of her hair kept swirlingback into his face. It had a faint perfume, a clean and heady scentthat made him more aware of the touch of her waist. He breathed deeply,oddly happy as they rode.     After five minutes ride they came to a building in the center of thecity. The building was cubical, severe in line and architecture, and itcontrasted oddly with the exquisite ornament of the rest of the city.It was as if it were a monolith from another time, a stranger crouchedamong enemies.     The girl halted before the structure and said, Dismount here, Eric.     Eric swung down, his arms still tingling with pleasure where he hadheld her. She said, Knock three times on the door. I will see youagain inside. And thank your brother for sending me to bring you here.     Eric knocked on the door. The door was as plain as the building, madeof a luminous plastic. It had all the beauty of the great gate door,but a more timeless, more functional beauty.     The door opened and an old man greeted Eric. Come in. The Councilawaits you. Follow me, please.     Eric followed down a hallway and into a large room. The room wasobviously designed for a conference room. A great table stood in theroom, made of the same luminous plastic as the door of the building.Six men sat at this conference table. Eric's guide placed him in achair at the base of the T-shaped table.     There was one vacant seat beside the head of the T, and as Ericwatched, the young woman who had rescued him entered and took her placethere. She smiled at Eric, and the room took on a warmth that it hadlacked with only the older men present. The man at her right, obviouslypresiding here looked at Eric and spoke. I am Kroon, the eldest ofthe elders. We have brought you here to satisfy ourselves of youridentity. In view of your danger in the City you are entitled to somesort of explanation. He glanced around the room and asked, What isthe judgment of the elders?  <doc-sep>When Eric regained consciousness the people of the city were all abouthim. They were very fair, and the women were more beautiful than music.Yet now they stared at him with red hate in their eyes. An older mancame forward and struck at the copper hat with a stick. The clangdeafened Eric and the man cried, You are right. It is Eric the Bronze.Bring the ships and let him be scourged from the city.     The man drew back the stick and struck again, and Eric's back tookfire with the blow. The crowd chanted, Whips, bring the whips, andfear forced Eric to his feet. He fled then, running on the heedlessfeet of panic, outstripping those who were behind him until he passedthrough the great gates into the red dust floor of the canal. The gatesclosed behind him, and the dust beat upon him, and he paused, his hearthammering inside his chest like a great bell clapper. He turned andlooked behind to be sure he was safe.     The towers twinkled at him, and the music whispered to him, Come back,Eric North. Come back to the city.     He turned and stumbled back to the great gate and hammered on it untilhis fists were raw, pleading for it to open and let him back.     And deep inside him some part of his mind said, This is a madness youcannot escape. The city is evil, an evil like you have never known,and a fear as old as time coursed through his frame.     He seized the copper hat from his head, and beat on the lotus carvingsof the great door, crying, Let me in! Please, take me back into thecity.     And as he beat the city changed. It became dull and sordid and evil, acity of disgust, with every part offensive to the eye. The spires andminarets were gargoyles of hatred, twisted and misshapen, and the soundof the city was a macabre song of hate.     He stared, and his back was chill with superstitions as old as thebeginning of man. The city flickered, changing before his eyes until itwas beautiful again.     He stood, amazed, and put the metal hat back on his head. With themotion the shift took place again, and beauty was ugliness. Amazed, hestared at the illusion, and the thought came to him that the metal hathad not entirely failed him after all.     He turned and began to walk away from the city, and when it began tocall he took the hat off his head and found peace for a time. Then whenit began again he replaced the hat, and revulsion sped his footsteps.And so, hat on, hat off, he made his way down the dusty floor of thecanal, and up the rocky sides until he stood on the Martian desert, andthe canal was a thin line behind him. He breathed easily then, for hewas beyond the range of the illusions.     And now that his mind was his own again he began to study the problem,and to understand something of the nature of the forces against whichhe had been pitted.     The helmet contained an electrical circuit, designed as a shieldagainst electrical waves tuned to affect his brain. But the hat hadfailed because the city, whatever it was, had adjusted to this revisedpattern as he had approached it. Hence, the helmet had been no defenseagainst illusion. However, when he had jerked the helmet off suddenlyto beat on the door, his mental pattern had changed, too suddenly, andthe machine caught up only after he had glimpsed another image. Then asthe illusion adjusted replacing the helmet threw it off again.     He grinned wryly. He would have liked to know more about the city,whatever it was. He would have liked to know more about the people hehad seen, whether they were real or part of the illusion, and if theywere as ugly as the second city had been.     Yet the danger was too great. He would go back to his ship and make thearrangements to destroy the city. The ship was armed, and to deliverindirect fire over the edge of the canal would be simple enough. GarveNorth, his brother, waited back at the ship. If he knew of the city hewould have to go there. Eric must not take a chance on that. After theyhad blasted whatever it was that lay in the canal floor, then it wouldbe time enough to tell Garve, and go down to see what was left.     The ship rested easily on the flat sandstone area where he hadestablished base camp. Its familiar lines brought a smile to Eric'sface, a feeling of confidence now that tools and weapons were his again.     He opened the door and entered. The lock doors were left open so thathe could enter directly into the body of the ship. He came in in aswift leap, calling, Garve! Hey, Garve, where are you?     The ship remained mute. He prowled through it, calling, Garve,wondering where the young hothead had gone, and then he saw a noteclipped to the control board of the ship. He tore it loose impatientlyand began to read. Garve had scrawled:     Funny thing, Eric. A while ago I thought I heard music. I walked downto the canal, and it seemed like there were lights, and a town of somesort far down the canal. I wanted to investigate, but thought I'dbetter come back. But the thing has been in my mind for hours now, andI'm going down to see what it is. If you want to follow, come straightdown the canal.     Eric stared at the note, and the line of his jaw was white. ApparentlyGarve had seen the city from farther away, and its effect had not beenso strong. Even so, Garve's natural curiosity had done the rest.     Garve had gone down to the city, and Garve had no shielded hat. Ericselected two high explosive grenades from the ship's arsenal. Theywere small but they packed a lot of power. He had a pistol packedwith smaller pellets of the same explosive, and he had the hat. Thatshould be adequate. He thrust the bronze hat back on his head and beganwalking back to the canal.  <doc-sep>He could tell from their looks that the others did, but couldn't bringthemselves to put it into words.     I suppose it's the time-scale and the value-scale that are so hard forus to accept, he said softly. Much more, even, than the size-scale.The thought that there are creatures in the Universe to whom the wholecareer of Man—in fact, the whole career of life—is no more than a fewthousand or hundred thousand years. And to whom Man is no more than aminor stage property—a trifling part of a clever job of camouflage.     This time he went on, Fantasy writers have at times hinted all sortsof odd things about the Earth—that it might even be a kind of singleliving creature, or honeycombed with inhabited caverns, and so on.But I don't know that any of them have ever suggested that the Earth,together with all the planets and moons of the Solar System, mightbe....     In a whisper, Frieda finished for him, ... a camouflaged fleet ofgigantic spherical spaceships.           Your guess happens to be the precise truth.          At that familiar, yet dreadly unfamiliar voice, all four of them swungtoward the inner door. Dotty was standing there, a sleep-stupefiedlittle girl with a blanket caught up around her and dragging behind.Their own daughter. But in her eyes was a look from which they cringed.     She said, I am a creature somewhat older than what your geologistscall the Archeozoic Era. I am speaking to you through a number oftelepathically sensitive individuals among your kind. In each case mythoughts suit themselves to your level of comprehension. I inhabit thedisguised and jetless spaceship which is your Earth.     Celeste swayed a step forward. Baby.... she implored.     Dotty went on, without giving her a glance, It is true that we plantedthe seeds of life on some of these planets simply as part of ourcamouflage, just as we gave them a suitable environment for each. Andit is true that now we must let most of that life be destroyed. Ourhiding place has been discovered, our pursuers are upon us, and we mustmake one last effort to escape or do battle, since we firmly believethat the principle of mental privacy to which we have devoted ourexistence is perhaps the greatest good in the whole Universe.     But it is not true that we look with contempt upon you. Our whole raceis deeply devoted to life, wherever it may come into being, and it isour rule never to interfere with its development. That was one ofthe reasons we made life a part of our camouflage—it would make ourpursuers reluctant to examine these planets too closely.     Yes, we have always cherished you and watched your evolution withinterest from our hidden lairs. We may even unconsciously have shapedyour development in certain ways, trying constantly to educate you awayfrom war and finally succeeding—which may have given the betrayingclue to our pursuers.     Your planets must be burst asunder—this particular planet in thearea of the Pacific—so that we may have our last chance to escape.Even if we did not move, our pursuers would destroy you with us. Wecannot invite you inside our ships—not for lack of space, but becauseyou could never survive the vast accelerations to which you would besubjected. You would, you see, need very special accommodations, ofwhich we have enough only for a few.     Those few we will take with us, as the seed from which a new humanrace may—if we ourselves somehow survive—be born.  <doc-sep>For a moment the old lady sat there in silence; then she leaned back,closed her eyes, and I knew there was a story coming.     My last book,      Death In The Atom     , hit the stands last January,she began. When it was finished I had planned to take a six months'vacation, but those fool publishers of mine insisted I do a sequel.Well, I'd used Mars and Pluto and Ganymede as settings for novels, sofor this one I decided on Venus. I went to Venus City, and I spent sixweeks in-country. I got some swell background material, and I met EzraKarn....     Who? I interrupted.     An old prospector who lives out in the deep marsh on the outskirts ofVarsoom country. To make a long story short, I got him talking abouthis adventures, and he told me plenty.     The old woman paused. Did you ever hear of the Green Flames? sheasked abruptly.     I shook my head. Some new kind of ...     It's not a new kind of anything. The Green Flame is a radio-activerock once found on Mercury. The      Alpha     rays of this rock are similarto radium in that they consist of streams of material particlesprojected at high speed. But the character of the      Gamma     rays hasnever been completely analyzed. Like those set up by radium, they areelectromagnetic pulsations, but they are also a strange combination of      Beta     or cathode rays with negatively charged electrons.     When any form of life is exposed to these      Gamma     rays from the GreenFlame rock, they produce in the creature's brain a certain lassitudeand lack of energy. As the period of exposure increases, this conditiondevelops into a sense of impotence and a desire for leadership orguidance. Occasionally, as with the weak-willed, there is a spirit ofintolerance. The Green Flames might be said to be an inorganic opiate,a thousand times more subtle and more powerful than any known drug.     I was sitting up now, hanging on to the woman's every word.     Now in 2710, as you'd know if you studied your history, the threeplanets of Earth, Venus, and Mars were under governmental bondage. Thecruel dictatorship of Vennox I was short-lived, but it lasted longenough to endanger all civilized life.     The archives tell us that one of the first acts of the overthrowinggovernment was to cast out all Green Flames, two of which Vennox hadordered must be kept in each household. The effect on the people wasimmediate. Representative government, individual enterprise, freedomfollowed.     Grannie Annie lit a cigarette and flipped the match to the floor.     To go back to my first trip to Venus. As I said, I met Ezra Karn, anold prospector there in the marsh. Karn told me that on one of histravels into the Varsoom district he had come upon the wreckage ofan old space ship. The hold of that space ship was packed with GreenFlames!     If Grannie expected me to show surprise at that, she was disappointed.I said, So what?     So everything, Billy-boy. Do you realize what such a thing would meanif it were true? Green Flames were supposedly destroyed on all planetsafter the Vennox regime crashed. If a quantity of the rock were inexistence, and it fell into the wrong hands, there'd be trouble.     Of course, I regarded Karn's story as a wild dream, but it madecorking good story material. I wrote it into a novel, and a week afterit was completed, the manuscript was stolen from my study back onEarth.     I see, I said as she lapsed into silence. And now you've come to theconclusion that the details of your story were true and that someone isattempting to put your plot into action.     Grannie nodded. Yes, she said. That's exactly what I think.     I got my pipe out of my pocket, tamped Martian tobacco into the bowland laughed heartily. The same old Flowers, I said. Tell me, who'syour thief ... Doctor Universe?     She regarded me evenly. What makes you say that?     I shrugged.     The way the theater crowd acted. It all ties in.     The old woman shook her head. No, this is a lot bigger than a simplequiz program. The theater crowd was but a cross-section of what ishappening all over the System. There have been riots on Earth and Mars,police officials murdered on Pluto and a demand that government byrepresentation be abolished on Jupiter. The time is ripe for a militarydictator to step in.     And you can lay it all to the Green Flames. It seems incredible that asingle shipload of the ore could effect such a wide ranged area, but inmy opinion someone has found a means of making that quantity a thousandtimes more potent and is transmiting it      en masse     .     If it had been anyone but Grannie Annie there before me, I wouldhave called her a fool. And then all at once I got an odd feeling ofapproaching danger.     Let's get out of here, I said, getting up.       Zinnng-whack!       All right!     On the mirror behind the bar a small circle with radiating cracksappeared. On the booth wall a scant inch above Grannie's head thefresco seemed to melt away suddenly.     A heat ray!     Grannie Annie leaped to her feet, grasped my arm and raced for thedoor. Outside a driverless hydrocar stood with idling motors. The oldwoman threw herself into the control seat, yanked me in after her andthrew over the starting stud.     An instant later we were plunging through the dark night.  <doc-sep>With Jacobs and Anhauser and the remainder of the crew of the ship,      Mars V     , seven judges sat in a semi-circle and Bruce stood there infront of them for the inquest.     In the middle of the half-moon of inquisition, with his long legsstretched out and his hands folded on his belly, sat Captain Terrence.His uniform was black. On his arm was the silver fist insignia of theConqueror Corps. Marsha Rennels sat on the extreme right and now therewas no emotion at all on her trim, neat face.     He remembered her as she had been years ago, but at the moment hewasn't looking very hard to see anything on her face. It was too late.They had gotten her young and it was too late.     Terrence's big, square face frowned a little. Bruce was aware suddenlyof the sound of the bleak, never-ending wind against the plastileneshelter. He remembered the strange misty shapes that had come to him inhis dreams, the voices that had called to him, and how disappointed hehad been when he woke from them.     This is a mere formality, Terrence finally said, since we all knowyou killed Lieutenant Doran a few hours ago. Marsha saw you kill him.Whatever you say goes on the record, of course.     For whom? Bruce asked.     What kind of question is that? For the authorities on Earth when weget back.     When you get back? Like the crews of those other four ships outthere? Bruce laughed without much humor.     Terrence rubbed a palm across his lips, dropped the hand quickly againto his belly. You want to make a statement or not? You shot Doran inthe head with a rifle. No provocation for the attack. You've wastedenough of my time with your damn arguments and anti-social behavior.This is a democratic group. Everyone has his say. But you've said toomuch, and done too much. Freedom doesn't allow you to go around killingfellow crew-members!     Any idea that there was any democracy or freedom left died on Venus,Bruce said.     Now we get another lecture! Terrence exploded. He leaned forward.You're sick, Bruce. They did a bad psych job on you. They should neverhave sent you on this trip. We need strength, all the strength we canfind. You don't belong here.     I know, Bruce agreed indifferently. I was drafted for this trip. Itold them I shouldn't be brought along. I said I didn't want any partof it.     Because you're afraid. You're not Conqueror material. That's why youbacked down when we all voted to climb the mountain. And what the devildoes Venus—?     Max Drexel's freckles slipped into the creases across his highforehead. Haven't you heard him expounding on the injustice done tothe Venusian aborigines, Captain? If you haven't, you aren't thoroughlyeducated to the crackpot idealism still infecting certain people.     I haven't heard it, Terrence admitted. What injustice?     Bruce said, I guess it couldn't really be considered an injusticeany longer. Values have changed too much. Doran and I were part of thecrew of that first ship to hit Venus, five years ago. Remember? Oneof the New Era's more infamous dates. Drexel says the Venusians wereaborigines. No one ever got a chance to find out. We ran into thisvillage. No one knows how old it was. There were intelligent beingsthere. One community left on the whole planet, maybe a few thousandinhabitants. They made their last mistake when they came out to greetus. Without even an attempt at communication, they were wiped out. Thevillage was burned and everything alive in it was destroyed.     Bruce felt the old weakness coming into his knees, the sweat beginningto run down his face. He took a deep breath and stood there before thecold nihilistic stares of fourteen eyes.     No, Bruce said. I apologize. None of you know what I'm talkingabout.     Terrence nodded. You're psycho. It's as simple as that. They pick themost capable for these conquests. Even the flights are processes ofelimination. Eventually we get the very best, the most resilient, thereal conquering blood. You just don't pass, Bruce. Listen, what do youthink gives you the right to stand here in judgment against the lawsof the whole Solar System?     There are plenty on Earth who agree with me, Bruce said. I can saywhat I think now because you can't do more than kill me and you'll dothat regardless....     He stopped. This was ridiculous, a waste of his time. And theirs. Theyhad established a kind of final totalitarianism since the New Era. Thepsychologists, the Pavlovian Reflex boys, had done that. If you didn'twant to be reconditioned to fit into the social machine like a humanvacuum tube, you kept your mouth shut. And for many, when the mouth waskept shut long enough, the mind pretty well forgot what it had wantedto open the mouth for in the first place.     A minority in both segments of a world split into two factions.Both had been warring diplomatically and sometimes physically, forcenturies, clung to old ideas of freedom, democracy, self-determinism,individualism. To most, the words had no meaning now. It was a questionof which set of conquering heroes could conquer the most space first.So far, only Venus had fallen. They had done a good, thorough jobthere. Four ships had come to Mars and their crews had disappeared.This was the fifth attempt—  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What kind of connection exists between Eric and the inhabitants of Mars in The Beast-Jewel of Mars?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"""What is the nature of the city that Eric discovers in The Beast-Jewel of Mars?"" [SEP] <s>  The Beast-Jewel of Mars     By V. E. THIESSEN     The city was strange, fantastic, beautiful.     He'd never been there before, yet already he     was a fabulous legend—a dire, hateful legend.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Spring 1955.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      He lay on his stomach, a lean man in faded one piece dungarees, and anodd metallic hat, peering over the side of the canal. Behind him thelittle winds sifted red dust into his collar, but he could not move; hecould only sit there with his gaze riveted on the spires and minaretsthat twinkled in the distance, far down the bottom of the canal.     One part of his mind said,      This is it, this is the fabled city ofMars. This is the beauty and the fantasy and the music of the legends,and I must go down there.     Yet somewhere deeper in his mind, deep inthe primal urges that kept him from death, the warning was taut andurgent.      Get away. They have a part of your mind now. Get away from thecity before you lose it all. Get away before your body becomes a husk,a soulless husk to walk the low canals with sightless eyes, like thosewho came before you.       He strained to push back from the edge, trying to get that fantasticbeauty out of his sight. He fought the lids of his eyes, fought toclose them while he pushed himself back, but they remained open,staring at the jeweled towers, and borne on the little winds the thinwail of music reached him, saying,      Come into the city, come down intothe fabled city     .     He slid over the edge, sliding down the sloping sides of the canal.The rough sandstone tore at his dungarees, tore at his elbow where ittouched but he did not feel the pain. His face was turned toward thetowers, and the sound of his breathing was less than human.     His feet caught a projecting bit of stone and were slowed for aninstant, so that he turned sideways and rolled on, down into the reddust bottom of the canal, to lie face down in the dust, with the chinstrap of the odd metallic hat cutting cruelly into his chin.     He lay there an instant, knowing that now he had a chance. With hisface down like this, and the dust smarting his eyes the image was gonefor an instant. He had to get away, he knew that. He had to mount thesides of the canal and never look back.     He told himself, I am Eric North, from Earth, the Third Planet of Sol,and this is not real.     He squirmed in the dust, feeling it bite his cheeks; he squirmed untilhe could get up and see nothing but the red sand stone walls of thecanal. He ran at the walls and clawed his way up like an animal in hishaste. He wouldn't look again.     The wind freshened and the tune of the music began to talk to him. Ittold of going barefoot over long streets of fur. It told of jewels, andwine, and women as fair as springtime. These and more were in the city,waiting for him to claim them.     He sobbed, and clawed forward. He stopped to rest, and slowly his headbegan to turn. He turned, and the spires and minarets twinkled at him,beautiful, soothing, stopping the tears that had welled down his cheeks.     When he reached the bottom of the canal he began to run toward the city.     When he came to the city there was a high wall around it, and a heavygate carved with lotus blossoms. He beat against the gate and cried,Oh! Let me in. Let me in to the city! The music was richer now, as ifit were everywhere, and the gate swung open without the faintest sound.     A sentinel stood before the opened gate at the end of a long bluestreet. He was dressed in red silk with his sleeves edged in blueleopard skin, and he wore a belt with a jeweled short sword. He drewthe sword from its scabbard, and bowed forward until the point of thesword touched the street of blue fur. He said, I give you the welcomeof my sword, and the welcome of the city. Speak your name so that itmay be set in the records of the dreamers.     The music sang, and the spires twinkled, and Eric said, I am EricNorth!     The sword point jerked, and the sentinel straightened. His face waswhite. He cried aloud, It is Eric the Bronze. It is Eric of theLegend. He whirled the sword aloft, and smashed it upon Eric's metalhat, and the hatred was a blue flame in his eyes.  <doc-sep>Eric caught a faint nod here, a gesture there. Kroon nodded as ifin satisfaction. He turned to the girl, And what is your opinion,Daughter of the City?     Nolette's expression held sorrow, as if she looked into the far future.She said, He is Eric the Bronze. I have no doubt.     Eric asked, And what is this Legend of Eric the Bronze? Why am I sodespised in the city?     Kroon answered, According to the Ancient Legend you will destroy thecity. This, and other things.     Eric gaped. No wonder the crowd had shown such hatred. But why werethe elders so friendly? They were obviously the governing body, and ifthere was strife between them and the people it had not shown in therespect the crowd had accorded Nolette.     Kroon said, I see you are puzzled. Let me tell you the story of theCity. The City is old. It dates from long ago when the canals of Marsran clear and green with water, and the deserts were vineyards andgardens. The drouth came, and the changes in climate, and soon itbecame plain that the people of Mars were doomed. They had ships, andcould build more, and gradually they left to colonize other planets.Yet they could take little of their science. And fear and riotsdestroyed much. Also there were those who were filled with love forthis homeland, and who thought that one day it might be habitableagain. All the skill of the ancient Martian fathers went into thebuilding of a giant machine, the machine that is the City, to protect asmall colony of those who were chosen to remain on Mars.     This whole city is a machine! Eric asked.     Yes, or the product of one. The heart of it lies underneath our feet,in caverns beneath this building. The nature of the machine is this,that it translates thought into reality.     Eric stared. The idea was staggering.     This is essentially simple, although the technology is complex. It isnecessary to have a recording device, to capture thought, a transmutingdevice capable of transmuting the red dust of the desert into anysort of material desired, and a construction device, to assemble thismaterial into the pattern already recorded from thought. Kroon paused.You still doubt, my friend. Perhaps you are thirsty after your escape.Think strongly of a tall glass of cold water, visualize it in yourmind, the sight and the fluidity and the touch of it.     Eric did so. Without warning a glass of water stood on the table beforehim. He touched the water to his lips. It was cool and satisfying. Hedrank it, convinced completely.     Eric asked, And I am to destroy the City?     Yes. The time has come.     But why? Eric demanded. For an instant he could see the twinklingbeauty as clearly as if he had stood outside the walls of this building.     Kroon said, There are difficulties. The machine builds according tothe mass will of the people, though it is sensitive to the individualin areas where it does not conflict with the imagination of the mass.We have had strangers, visitors, and even our own people, who grewdrunk with the power of the machine, who dreamed more and more lust andgreed into existence. These were banished from the city, and so strongis the call of the city that many of them became victims of their ownevilness, and now walk mindlessly, with no thought but to seek for thebeauty they have lost here.     Kroon sighed. The people have lost the will to learn. Many do not evenknow of the machine. Our science is almost gone, and only a few of us,the dreamers, the elders, have kept alive the old knowledge of themachine and its history. By the collected powers of our imagination webuild and control the outward appearance of the city.     We have passed this down from father to son. A part of the ancientLegend is that the builders made provisions for the machine to bedestroyed when contact with outsiders had been made once again, so thatour people would again have to struggle forward to knowledge and power.The instrument of destruction was to be a man termed Eric the Bronze.It is not that you are reborn. It is just that sometime such a manwould come.     Eric said, I can understand the Bronze part. They had thought that aspace man might well be sun tanned. They had thought that a science toprotect against this beautiful illusion would provide a metal shieldof some sort, probably copper in nature. That such a man should comeis inevitable. But why Eric. Why the name Eric?     For the first time Nolette spoke. She said quietly, The name Ericwas an honorable name of the ancient fathers. It must have been theirthought that the new beginning should wait for some of their own farflung kind to return.     Eric nodded. He asked, What happens now?     Nothing. Dwell here with us and you will be safe from our people. Ifthe prediction is not soon fulfilled and you are not the Eric of theLegend, you may stay or go as you desire.     My brother, Garve. What about him?     He loves the city. He will also stay, though he will be outside thisbuilding. Kroon clasped his hands. Nolette, will you show Eric hisquarters?  <doc-sep>When Eric regained consciousness the people of the city were all abouthim. They were very fair, and the women were more beautiful than music.Yet now they stared at him with red hate in their eyes. An older mancame forward and struck at the copper hat with a stick. The clangdeafened Eric and the man cried, You are right. It is Eric the Bronze.Bring the ships and let him be scourged from the city.     The man drew back the stick and struck again, and Eric's back tookfire with the blow. The crowd chanted, Whips, bring the whips, andfear forced Eric to his feet. He fled then, running on the heedlessfeet of panic, outstripping those who were behind him until he passedthrough the great gates into the red dust floor of the canal. The gatesclosed behind him, and the dust beat upon him, and he paused, his hearthammering inside his chest like a great bell clapper. He turned andlooked behind to be sure he was safe.     The towers twinkled at him, and the music whispered to him, Come back,Eric North. Come back to the city.     He turned and stumbled back to the great gate and hammered on it untilhis fists were raw, pleading for it to open and let him back.     And deep inside him some part of his mind said, This is a madness youcannot escape. The city is evil, an evil like you have never known,and a fear as old as time coursed through his frame.     He seized the copper hat from his head, and beat on the lotus carvingsof the great door, crying, Let me in! Please, take me back into thecity.     And as he beat the city changed. It became dull and sordid and evil, acity of disgust, with every part offensive to the eye. The spires andminarets were gargoyles of hatred, twisted and misshapen, and the soundof the city was a macabre song of hate.     He stared, and his back was chill with superstitions as old as thebeginning of man. The city flickered, changing before his eyes until itwas beautiful again.     He stood, amazed, and put the metal hat back on his head. With themotion the shift took place again, and beauty was ugliness. Amazed, hestared at the illusion, and the thought came to him that the metal hathad not entirely failed him after all.     He turned and began to walk away from the city, and when it began tocall he took the hat off his head and found peace for a time. Then whenit began again he replaced the hat, and revulsion sped his footsteps.And so, hat on, hat off, he made his way down the dusty floor of thecanal, and up the rocky sides until he stood on the Martian desert, andthe canal was a thin line behind him. He breathed easily then, for hewas beyond the range of the illusions.     And now that his mind was his own again he began to study the problem,and to understand something of the nature of the forces against whichhe had been pitted.     The helmet contained an electrical circuit, designed as a shieldagainst electrical waves tuned to affect his brain. But the hat hadfailed because the city, whatever it was, had adjusted to this revisedpattern as he had approached it. Hence, the helmet had been no defenseagainst illusion. However, when he had jerked the helmet off suddenlyto beat on the door, his mental pattern had changed, too suddenly, andthe machine caught up only after he had glimpsed another image. Then asthe illusion adjusted replacing the helmet threw it off again.     He grinned wryly. He would have liked to know more about the city,whatever it was. He would have liked to know more about the people hehad seen, whether they were real or part of the illusion, and if theywere as ugly as the second city had been.     Yet the danger was too great. He would go back to his ship and make thearrangements to destroy the city. The ship was armed, and to deliverindirect fire over the edge of the canal would be simple enough. GarveNorth, his brother, waited back at the ship. If he knew of the city hewould have to go there. Eric must not take a chance on that. After theyhad blasted whatever it was that lay in the canal floor, then it wouldbe time enough to tell Garve, and go down to see what was left.     The ship rested easily on the flat sandstone area where he hadestablished base camp. Its familiar lines brought a smile to Eric'sface, a feeling of confidence now that tools and weapons were his again.     He opened the door and entered. The lock doors were left open so thathe could enter directly into the body of the ship. He came in in aswift leap, calling, Garve! Hey, Garve, where are you?     The ship remained mute. He prowled through it, calling, Garve,wondering where the young hothead had gone, and then he saw a noteclipped to the control board of the ship. He tore it loose impatientlyand began to read. Garve had scrawled:     Funny thing, Eric. A while ago I thought I heard music. I walked downto the canal, and it seemed like there were lights, and a town of somesort far down the canal. I wanted to investigate, but thought I'dbetter come back. But the thing has been in my mind for hours now, andI'm going down to see what it is. If you want to follow, come straightdown the canal.     Eric stared at the note, and the line of his jaw was white. ApparentlyGarve had seen the city from farther away, and its effect had not beenso strong. Even so, Garve's natural curiosity had done the rest.     Garve had gone down to the city, and Garve had no shielded hat. Ericselected two high explosive grenades from the ship's arsenal. Theywere small but they packed a lot of power. He had a pistol packedwith smaller pellets of the same explosive, and he had the hat. Thatshould be adequate. He thrust the bronze hat back on his head and beganwalking back to the canal.  <doc-sep>The return back to the city would always live in his mind as aphantasmagora, a montage of twisted hate and unseemly beauty. When hecame again to the gate he did not attempt to enter, but circled thewall, hat on, hat off, stiff limbed like a puppet dancing to the sametune over and over again. He found a place where he could scale thewall, and thrust the helmet on his head, and clawed up the misshapenwall. It was all he could do to make himself drop into the ugly city.     He heard a familiar voice as he dropped. Eric, the voice said. Eric,you did come back. The voice was his brother's, and he whirled,seeking the voice. A figure stood before him, a twisted caricature ofhis brother. The figure cried, The hat! You fool, get rid of thathat! The caricature that was his brother seized the hat, and jerkedso hard that the chin strap broke under Eric's chin. The hat was flungaway and sailed high and far over the fence and outside the city.     The phantasm flickered, the illusion moved. Garve was now more handsomethan ever, and the city was a dream of delight. Garve said, Come, andEric followed down a street of blue fur. He had no will to resist.     Garve said, Keep your head down and your face hidden. If we meetsomeone you may not be recognized. They won't be expecting you fromthis side of the city.     Eric asked, You knew I'd come after you?     Yes. The Legend said you'd be back.     Eric stopped and whirled to face his brother. The Legend? Eric theBronze? What is this wild fantasy?     Not so loud! Garve's voice cautioned him. Of course the crowd calledyou that because of the copper hat and your heavy tan. But the Eldersbelieve so too. I don't know what it is, Eric, reincarnation, prophesy,superstition, I only know that when I was with the Elders I believedthem. You are a part of a Legend. You are Eric the Bronze.     Eric looked down at his sun tanned hands and flexed them. He loosenedthe explosive pistol in its holster. At least he was going to be a wellarmed, well prepared Legend. And while one part of his mind marveledat the city and relaxed into a pleasure as deep as a dream, anotherstruggled with the almost forgotten desire to rescue his brother andescape. He asked, Who are the Elders?     We are going to them, to the center of the city. Garve's voicesharpened, Keep your head down. I think the last two men we passed arelooking after us. Don't look back.     After a moment Garve said, I think they are following us. Get readyto run. If we are separated, keep going until you reach City Center.The Elders will be expecting you. Garve glanced back, and his voicesharpened, Now! Run!     They ran. But as they ran figures began to converge upon them. Fartherup the street others appeared, cutting off their flight.     Garve cried, In here, and pulled Eric into a crevice between twobuildings. Eric drew his gun, and savagery began to dance in his eyes.The soft fur muffled sounds of pursuit closed in upon them.     Garve put one hand on Eric's gun hand and said, Wait here. And if youvalue my life, don't use that gun. Then he was gone, running deerlikedown the street.     For an instant Eric thought the ruse had succeeded. He heard cries andtwo men passed him running in pursuit. But then the cry came back. Lethim go. Get the other one. The other one.     Eric was seen an instant later, and the people of the city began toconverge upon him. He could have destroyed them all with his charges inthe gun, but his brother's warning shrieked in his ears, If you valuemy life don't use the gun.     There was nothing he could do. Eric stood quietly until he was takenprisoner. They moved him to the center of the wide fur street. Two menheld his arms, and twisted painfully. The crowd looked at him, coldly,calculatingly. One of them said, Get the whips. If we whip him he willnot come back. The city twinkled, and the music was so faint he couldhardly hear it.     There was only one weapon Eric could use. He had gathered from Garve'swords that these people were superstitious.     He laughed, a great chest-shattering laugh that gusted out into thethin Martian air. He laughed and cried in a great voice, And can youso easily dispose of a Legend? If I am Eric of the Legend, can whipsdefeat the prophesy?     There was an instant when he could have twisted loose. They stood,fear-bound at his words. But there was no place to hide, and withoutthe use of his weapons Eric could not have gone far. He had to bluff itout.  <doc-sep>Then one of the men cried, Fools! It is true. We must take no chancewith the whips. He would come back. But if he dies here before us now,then we may forget the prophesy.     The crowd murmured and a second voice cried, Get the sword, get theguards, and kill him at once!     Eric tensed to break away but now it was too late. His captors werealert. They increased the twist on his arms until he almost screamedwith the pain.     The crowd parted, and the guard came through, his red silk clothinggleaming in the sun, his sword bright and deadly. He stopped beforeEric, and the sword swirled up like a saber, ready for a slashing cutdownward across Eric's neck.     A woman's voice, soft and yet authoritative, called, Hold! And amurmur of respect rippled through the crowd.     Nolette! The Daughter of the City comes.     Eric turned his gaze to the side and saw the woman who had spoken. Shewas mounted upon a black horse with a jeweled bridle. She was young andher hair was long and free in the wind. She had ridden so softly acrossthe fur street that no one had been aware of her presence.       She said, Let me touch this man. Let me feel the pulse of his heart sothat I may know if he is truly the Bronze one of the Legend. Give meyour hand, stranger. She leaned down and grasped his hand. Eric shookhis arms free, and reached up and clung to the offered hand, thinking,If I pull her down perhaps I can use her as a shield. He tensed hismuscles and began to pull.     She cried, No! You fool. Come up on the horse, and pulled back withan energy as fierce as his own. Then he had swung up on the horse, andthe animal leaped forward, its muffled gallop beating out a tattoo offreedom.     Eric clung tightly to the girl's waist. He could feel the youngsuppleness of her body, and the fine strands of her hair kept swirlingback into his face. It had a faint perfume, a clean and heady scentthat made him more aware of the touch of her waist. He breathed deeply,oddly happy as they rode.     After five minutes ride they came to a building in the center of thecity. The building was cubical, severe in line and architecture, and itcontrasted oddly with the exquisite ornament of the rest of the city.It was as if it were a monolith from another time, a stranger crouchedamong enemies.     The girl halted before the structure and said, Dismount here, Eric.     Eric swung down, his arms still tingling with pleasure where he hadheld her. She said, Knock three times on the door. I will see youagain inside. And thank your brother for sending me to bring you here.     Eric knocked on the door. The door was as plain as the building, madeof a luminous plastic. It had all the beauty of the great gate door,but a more timeless, more functional beauty.     The door opened and an old man greeted Eric. Come in. The Councilawaits you. Follow me, please.     Eric followed down a hallway and into a large room. The room wasobviously designed for a conference room. A great table stood in theroom, made of the same luminous plastic as the door of the building.Six men sat at this conference table. Eric's guide placed him in achair at the base of the T-shaped table.     There was one vacant seat beside the head of the T, and as Ericwatched, the young woman who had rescued him entered and took her placethere. She smiled at Eric, and the room took on a warmth that it hadlacked with only the older men present. The man at her right, obviouslypresiding here looked at Eric and spoke. I am Kroon, the eldest ofthe elders. We have brought you here to satisfy ourselves of youridentity. In view of your danger in the City you are entitled to somesort of explanation. He glanced around the room and asked, What isthe judgment of the elders?  <doc-sep>Strange? The object rose a quarter of a mile above us, a huge, curvinghulk of smooth metal. It was featureless and yet conveyed a senseof      alienness     . It was alien and yet it wasn't a natural formation.Something had made the thing, whatever it was. But was it strange thatit hadn't been noticed before? Men had lived on the Moon for over ayear, but the Moon was vast and the      Mare Serenitatis     covered threehundred and forty thousand square miles.     What is it? Marie asked breathlessly.     Her husband grunted his bafflement. Who knows? But see how it curves?If it's a perfect sphere, it must be at least two miles in diameter!     If it's a perfect sphere, Miller suggested, most of it must bebeneath the Moon's surface.     Maybe it isn't a sphere, my wife said. Maybe this is all of it.     Let's call Lunar City and tell the authorities about it. I reachedfor the radio controls on my suit.     Kane grabbed my arm. No. Let's find out whatever we can by ourselves.If we tell the authorities, they'll order us to leave it alone. If wediscover something really important, we'll be famous!     I lowered my arm. His outburst seemed faintly childish to me. And yetit carried a good measure of common sense. If we discovered proof ofan alien race, we would indeed be famous. The more we discovered forourselves, the more famous we'd be. Fame was practically a synonym forprestige and wealth.     All right, I conceded.     Miller stepped forward, moving slowly in the bulk of his spacesuit.Deliberately, he removed a small torch from his side and pressed thebrilliant flame against the metal.     A few minutes later, the elderly mineralogist gave his opinion: It'ssteel ... made thousands of years ago.     Someone gasped over the intercom, Thousands of years! But wouldn't itbe in worse shape than this if it was that old?     Miller pointed at the small cut his torch had made in the metal. Thenotch was only a quarter of an inch deep. I say      steel     because it's      similar     to steel. Actually, it's a much stronger alloy. Besides that,on the Moon, there's been no water or atmosphere to rust it. Not evena wind to disturb its surface. It's      at least     several thousand yearsold.  <doc-sep>As the slideway whisked him gently along the corridor toward hisapartment, Jorj was thinking of his spaceship. For a moment thesilver-winged vision crowded everything else out of his mind.     Just think, a spaceship with sails! He smiled a bit, marveling at theparadox.     Direct atomic power. Direct utilization of the force of the flyingneutrons. No more ridiculous business of using a reactor to drive asteam engine, or boil off something for a jet exhaust—processes thatwere as primitive and wasteful as burning gunpowder to keep yourselfwarm.     Chemical jets would carry his spaceship above the atmosphere. Thenwould come the thrilling order, Set sail for Mars! The vast umbrellawould unfold and open out around the stern, its rear or Earthward sidea gleaming expanse of radioactive ribbon perhaps only an atom thickand backed with a material that would reflect neutrons. Atoms in theribbon would split, blasting neutrons astern at fantastic velocities.Reaction would send the spaceship hurtling forward.     In airless space, the expanse of sails would naturally not retard theship. More radioactive ribbon, manufactured as needed in the shipitself, would feed out onto the sail as that already there becameexhausted.     A spaceship with direct nuclear drive—and he, a Thinker, hadconceived it completely except for the technical details! Havingstrengthened his mind by hard years of somno-learning, mind-casting,memory-straightening, and sensory training, he had assured himselfof the executive power to control the technicians and direct theirspecialized abilities. Together they would build the true Mars rocket.     But that would only be a beginning. They would build the true MindBomb. They would build the true Selective Microbe Slayer. They woulddiscover the true laws of ESP and the inner life. They would even—hisimagination hesitated a moment, then strode boldly forward—build thetrue Maizie!     And then ... then the Thinkers would be on even terms with thescientists. Rather, they'd be far ahead. No more deception.     He was so exalted by this thought that he almost let the slideway carryhim past his door. He stepped inside and called, Caddy! He waited amoment, then walked through the apartment, but she wasn't there.  <doc-sep>It was a weird situation, Syme thought. His mind was racing, but as yethe could see no way out. He began to wonder, if he did, could he keepthe Martians from knowing about it? Then he realized that the Martianmust have received that thought, too, and he was enraged. He stood,holding himself in check with an effort.     Will you tell us why? Tate asked.     You were brought here for that purpose. It is part of our conceptionof justice. I will tell you and your—friend—anything you wish toknow.     Syme noticed that the other Martians had retired to the farther side ofthe cavern. Some were munching the glowing fungus. That left only theleader, who was standing alertly on all fours a short distance awayfrom them, holding the Benson gun trained on them. Syme tried not tothink about the gun, especially about making a grab for it. It was liketrying not to think of the word hippopotamus.     Tate squatted down comfortably on the floor of the cavern, apparentlyunconcerned, but his hands were trembling slightly. First why— hebegan.     There are many secrets in Kal-Jmar, the Martian said, among them avery simple catalyzing agent which could within fifty years transformMars to a planet with Terrestrially-thick atmosphere.     I think I see, Tate said thoughtfully. That's been the ultimate aimall along, but so far the problem has us licked. If we solved it, thenwe'd have all of Mars, not just the cities. Your people would die out.You couldn't have that, of course.     He sighed deeply. He spread his gloved hands before him and lookedat them with a queer intentness. Well—how about the Martians—theKal-Jmar Martians, I mean? I'd dearly love to know the answer to thatone.     Neither of the alternatives in your mind is correct. They were not aseparate species, although they were unlike us. But they were not ourancestors, either. They were the contemporaries of our ancestors.     Several thousand years ago Mars' loss of atmosphere began to makeitself felt. There were two ways out. Some chose to seal themselvesinto cities like Kal-Jmar; our ancestors chose to adapt their bodies tothe new conditions. Thus the race split. Their answer to the problemwas an evasion; they remained static. Our answer was the true one, forwe progressed. We progressed beyond the need of science; they remainedits slaves. They died of a plague—and other causes.     You see, he finished gently, our deception has caused a naturalconfusion in your minds. They were the degenerates, not we.     And yet, Tate mused, you are being destroyed by contact withan—inferior—culture.     We hope to win yet, the Martian said.     Tate stood up, his face very white. Tell me one thing, he begged.Will our two races ever live together in amity?     The Martian lowered his head. That is for unborn generations. Helooked at Tate again and aimed the energy gun. You are a brave man,he said. I am sorry.     Syme saw all his hopes of treasure and glory go glimmering down thesights of the Martian's Benson gun, and suddenly the pent-up rage inhim exploded. Too swiftly for his intention to be telegraphed, beforehe knew himself what he meant to do, he hurled himself bodily into theMartian.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] ""What is the nature of the city that Eric discovers in The Beast-Jewel of Mars?""","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the location where The Beast-Jewel of Mars takes place? [SEP] <s>  The Beast-Jewel of Mars     By V. E. THIESSEN     The city was strange, fantastic, beautiful.     He'd never been there before, yet already he     was a fabulous legend—a dire, hateful legend.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Spring 1955.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      He lay on his stomach, a lean man in faded one piece dungarees, and anodd metallic hat, peering over the side of the canal. Behind him thelittle winds sifted red dust into his collar, but he could not move; hecould only sit there with his gaze riveted on the spires and minaretsthat twinkled in the distance, far down the bottom of the canal.     One part of his mind said,      This is it, this is the fabled city ofMars. This is the beauty and the fantasy and the music of the legends,and I must go down there.     Yet somewhere deeper in his mind, deep inthe primal urges that kept him from death, the warning was taut andurgent.      Get away. They have a part of your mind now. Get away from thecity before you lose it all. Get away before your body becomes a husk,a soulless husk to walk the low canals with sightless eyes, like thosewho came before you.       He strained to push back from the edge, trying to get that fantasticbeauty out of his sight. He fought the lids of his eyes, fought toclose them while he pushed himself back, but they remained open,staring at the jeweled towers, and borne on the little winds the thinwail of music reached him, saying,      Come into the city, come down intothe fabled city     .     He slid over the edge, sliding down the sloping sides of the canal.The rough sandstone tore at his dungarees, tore at his elbow where ittouched but he did not feel the pain. His face was turned toward thetowers, and the sound of his breathing was less than human.     His feet caught a projecting bit of stone and were slowed for aninstant, so that he turned sideways and rolled on, down into the reddust bottom of the canal, to lie face down in the dust, with the chinstrap of the odd metallic hat cutting cruelly into his chin.     He lay there an instant, knowing that now he had a chance. With hisface down like this, and the dust smarting his eyes the image was gonefor an instant. He had to get away, he knew that. He had to mount thesides of the canal and never look back.     He told himself, I am Eric North, from Earth, the Third Planet of Sol,and this is not real.     He squirmed in the dust, feeling it bite his cheeks; he squirmed untilhe could get up and see nothing but the red sand stone walls of thecanal. He ran at the walls and clawed his way up like an animal in hishaste. He wouldn't look again.     The wind freshened and the tune of the music began to talk to him. Ittold of going barefoot over long streets of fur. It told of jewels, andwine, and women as fair as springtime. These and more were in the city,waiting for him to claim them.     He sobbed, and clawed forward. He stopped to rest, and slowly his headbegan to turn. He turned, and the spires and minarets twinkled at him,beautiful, soothing, stopping the tears that had welled down his cheeks.     When he reached the bottom of the canal he began to run toward the city.     When he came to the city there was a high wall around it, and a heavygate carved with lotus blossoms. He beat against the gate and cried,Oh! Let me in. Let me in to the city! The music was richer now, as ifit were everywhere, and the gate swung open without the faintest sound.     A sentinel stood before the opened gate at the end of a long bluestreet. He was dressed in red silk with his sleeves edged in blueleopard skin, and he wore a belt with a jeweled short sword. He drewthe sword from its scabbard, and bowed forward until the point of thesword touched the street of blue fur. He said, I give you the welcomeof my sword, and the welcome of the city. Speak your name so that itmay be set in the records of the dreamers.     The music sang, and the spires twinkled, and Eric said, I am EricNorth!     The sword point jerked, and the sentinel straightened. His face waswhite. He cried aloud, It is Eric the Bronze. It is Eric of theLegend. He whirled the sword aloft, and smashed it upon Eric's metalhat, and the hatred was a blue flame in his eyes.  <doc-sep>   IT WAS A DULL, ROUTINE LITTLE     WORLD. IT DIDN'T EVEN HAVE A     CITY. EVERYTHING IT HAD WAS     IN THE GARDEN     BY R. A. LAFFERTY     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, March 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The protozoic recorder chirped like a bird. Not only would there belife traces on that little moon, but it would be a lively place. Sothey skipped several steps in the procedure.     The chordata discerner read      Positive     over most of the surface. Therewas spinal fluid on that orb, rivers of it. So again they omittedseveral tests and went to the cognition scanner. Would it show Thoughton the body?     Naturally they did not get results at once, nor did they expect to; itrequired a fine adjustment. But they were disappointed that they foundnothing for several hours as they hovered high over the rotation. Thenit came—clearly and definitely, but from quite a small location only.     Limited, said Steiner, as though within a pale. As though there werebut one city, if that is its form. Shall we follow the rest of thesurface to find another, or concentrate on this? It'll be twelve hoursbefore it's back in our ken if we let it go now.     Let's lock on this one and finish the scan. Then we can do the rest ofthe world to make sure we've missed nothing, said Stark.     There was one more test to run, one very tricky and difficult ofanalysis, that with the Extraordinary Perception Locator. This wasdesigned simply to locate a source of superior thought. But this mightbe so varied or so unfamiliar that often both the machine and thedesigner of it were puzzled as to how to read the results.     The E. P. Locator had been designed by Glaser. But when the Locatorhad refused to read      Positive     when turned on the inventor himself,bad blood developed between machine and man. Glaser knew that he hadextraordinary perception. He was a much honored man in his field. Hetold the machine so heatedly.     The machine replied, with such warmth that its relays chattered, thatGlaser did      not     have extraordinary perception; he had only ordinaryperception to an extraordinary degree. There is a      difference     , themachine insisted.     It was for this reason that Glaser used that model no more, but builtothers more amenable. And it was for this reason also that the ownersof Little Probe had acquired the original machine so cheaply.     And there was no denying that the Extraordinary Perception Locator (orEppel) was a contrary machine. On Earth it had read      Positive     on anumber of crack-pots, including Waxey Sax, a jazz tootler who could noteven read music. But it had also read      Positive     on ninety per cent ofthe acknowledged superior minds of the Earth. In space it had been asound guide to the unusual intelligences encountered. Yet on Suzuki-Miit had read      Positive     on a two-inch-long worm, only one of them out ofbillions. For the countless identical worms no trace of anything at allwas shown by the test.     So it was with mixed expectations that Steiner locked onto the areaand got a flick. He then narrowed to a smaller area (apparently oneindividual, though this could not be certain) and got very definiteaction. Eppel was busy. The machine had a touch of the ham in it, andassumed an air of importance when it ran these tests.     Finally it signaled the result, the most exasperating result it everproduces: the single orange light. It was the equivalent of the shrugof the shoulders in a man. They called it the You tell      me     light.     So among the intelligences there was at least one that might beextraordinary, though possibly in a crackpot way. It is good to beforewarned.  <doc-sep>She shook her head. There are no more Afrikanders.     Rebellion?     No. Intermarriage. Racial blending. There was a psychology of guiltbehind it. So huge a crime eventually required a proportionateexpiation. Afrikaans is still the world language, but there is only onerace now. No more masters or slaves.     They were both silent for a moment, and then she sighed. Let us nottalk about them any more.     Robot factories and farms, Maitland mused. What else? What means oftransportation? Do you have interstellar flight yet?     Inter-what?     Have men visited the stars?     She shook her head, bewildered.     I always thought that would be a tough problem to crack, he agreed.But tell me about what men are doing in the Solar System. How is lifeon Mars and Venus, and how long does it take to get to those places?     He waited, expectantly silent, but she only looked puzzled. I don'tunderstand. Mars? What are Mars?     After several seconds, Maitland swallowed. Something seemed to be thematter with his throat, making it difficult for him to speak. Surelyyou have space travel?     She frowned and shook her head. What does that mean—space travel?     He was gripping the edge of the bed now, glaring at her. Acivilization that could discover time travel and build robot factorieswouldn't find it hard to send a ship to Mars!     A      ship     ? Oh, you mean something like a      vliegvlotter     . Why, no, Idon't suppose it would be hard. But why would anyone want to do athing like that?     He was on his feet towering over her, fists clenched. She raised herarms as if to shield her face if he should hit her. Let's get thisperfectly clear, he said, more harshly than he realized. So far asyou know, no one has ever visited the planets, and no one wants to. Isthat right?     She nodded apprehensively. I have never heard of it being done.     He sank down on the bed and put his face in his hands. After a while helooked up and said bitterly, You're looking at a man who would givehis life to get to Mars. I thought I would in my time. I was positive Iwould when I knew I was in your time. And now I know I never will.  <doc-sep>She was not only trying to get me to commit nonconformity, but makingheretical remarks besides. I awoke that time and half-expected a Deaconto pop out of the tube and turn his electric club upon me.     And I heard the voice nearly every night.     It hammered away.           What if you do fail? Almost anything would be better than themiserable existence you're leading now!          One morning I even caught myself wondering just how I'd go about thisidea of hers. Wondering what the first step might be.     She seemed to read my thoughts. That night she said,       Consult the cybsin the Govpub office. If you look hard enough and long enough, you'llfind a way.          Now, on this morning of the seventeenth day in the ninth month,I ate my boiled egg slowly and actually toyed with the idea. Ithought of being on productive status again. I had almost lost myfanatical craving to be useful to the State, but I did want to bebusy—desperately. I didn't want to be despised any more. I didn'twant to be lonely. I wanted to reproduce myself.     I made my decision suddenly. Waves of emotion carried me along. I gotup, crossed the room to the directory, and pushbuttoned to find thelocation of the nearest Govpub office.     I didn't know what would happen and almost didn't care.      II     Like most important places, the Govpub Office in Center Four wasunderground. I could have taken a tunnelcar more quickly, but it seemedpleasanter to travel topside. Or maybe I just wanted to put this off abit. Think about it. Compose myself.     At the entrance to the Govpub warren there was a big director cyb, aplate with a speaker and switch. The sign on it said to switch it onand get close to the speaker and I did.     The cyb's mechanical voice—they never seem to get the th soundsright—said, This is Branch Four of the Office of GovernmentPublications. Say, 'Publications,' and/or, 'Information desired,' asthoroughly and concisely as possible. Use approved voice and standardphraseology.     Well, simple enough so far. I had always rather prided myself on myknack for approved voice, those flat, emotionless tones that indicateefficiency. And I would never forget how to speak Statese. I said,Applicant desires all pertinent information relative assignment,change or amendment of State Serial designations, otherwise generallyreferred to as nomenclature.     There was a second's delay while the audio patterns tripped relays andbrought the memory tubes in.     Then the cyb said, Proceed to Numbering and Identity section. Consultalphabetical list and diagram on your left for location of same.     Thanks, I said absent-mindedly.     I started to turn away and the cyb said, Information on tanks ismilitary information and classified. State authorization for—     I switched it off.  <doc-sep>She didn't answer; she kept her eyes straight ahead and I saw the faintspot of color on her cheek.     I had a sudden impulse to ask her to meet me after hours at oneof the rec centers. If it had been my danger alone, I might have,but I couldn't very well ask her to risk discovery of a haphazard,unauthorized arrangement like that and the possibility of going to thepsycho-scan.     We came to a turn in the corridor and something happened; I'm not surejust how it happened. I keep telling myself that my movements were notactually deliberate. I was to the right of her. The turn was to theleft. She turned quickly, and I didn't, so that I bumped into her,knocking her off balance. I grabbed her to keep her from falling.     For a moment we stood there, face to face, touching each other lightly.I held her by the arms. I felt the primitive warmth of her breath. Oureyes held together ... proton ... electron ... I felt her tremble.     She broke from my grip suddenly and started off again.     After that she was very business-like.     We came finally to the controls of Bank 29 and she stood before themand began to press button combinations. I watched her work; I watchedher move. I had almost forgotten why I'd come here. The lights blinkedon and off and the typers clacked softly as the machine sorted outinformation.     She had a long printed sheet from the roll presently. She frowned atit and turned to me. You can take this along and study it, she said,but I'm afraid what you have in mind may be—a little difficult.     She must have guessed what I had in mind. I said, I didn't think itwould be easy.     It seems that the only agency authorized to change a State Serialunder any circumstances is Opsych.     Opsych? You can't keep up with all these departments.     The Office of Psychological Adjustment. They can change you if you gofrom a lower to higher E.A.C.     I don't get it, exactly.     As she spoke I had the idea that there was sympathy in her voice. Justan overtone. Well, she said, as you know, the post a person isqualified to hold often depends largely on his Emotional AdjustmentCategory. Now if he improves and passes from, let us say, Grade 3 toGrade 4, he will probably change his place of work. In order to protecthim from any associative maladjustments developed under the old E.A.C,he is permitted a new number.     I groaned. But I'm already in the highest E.A.C.!     It looks very uncertain then.     Sometimes I think I'd be better off in the mines, or onMarscol—or—in the hell of the pre-atomics!     She looked amused. What did you say your E.A.C. was?     Oh, all right. Sorry. I controlled myself and grinned. I guess thiswhole thing has been just a little too much for me. Maybe my E.A.C.'seven gone down.     That might be your chance then.     How do you mean?     If you could get to the top man in Opsych and demonstrate that yournumber has inadvertently changed your E.A.C., he might be able tojustify a change.     By the State, he might! I punched my palm. Only how do I get to him?     I can find his location on the cyb here. Center One, the capital, fora guess. You'll have to get a travel permit to go there, of course.Just a moment.     She worked at the machine again, trying it on general data. The printedslip came out a moment later and she read it to me. Chief, Opsych, wasin the capital all right. It didn't give the exact location of hisoffice, but it did tell how to find the underground bay in Center Onecontaining the Opsych offices.     We headed back through the passageway then and she kept well ahead ofme. I couldn't keep my eyes from her walk, from the way she walked witheverything below her shoulders. My blood was pounding at my templesagain.     I tried to keep the conversation going. Do you think it'll be hard toget a travel permit?     Not impossible. My guess is that you'll be at Travbur all daytomorrow, maybe even the next day. But you ought to be able to swing itif you hold out long enough.     I sighed. I know. It's that way everywhere in Northem. Our motto oughtto be, 'Why make it difficult when with just a little more effort youcan make it impossible?'  <doc-sep>Whew! Nurse Gray came back to throbbing awareness, the all toofamiliar feeling of a misplaced stomach attempting to force itscrowded way into her boots plaguing her. Rockets roared in the rear.She loosened a few straps and twisted over. Judith was still out, herface tensed in pain. Gray bit her lip and twisted the other way. TheCentaurian was grinning at her.     Do you always leave in a hurry? she demanded, and instantly wishedshe hadn't said it. He gave no outward sign.     Long-time sleep, he announced. Four, five hours maybe. The cheststrap was lying loose at his side.     That long! she was incredulous. I'm never out more than threehours! Unloosening more straps, she sat up, glanced at the controlpanel.     Not taking time, he stated simply and pointed to a dial. Gray shookher head and looked at the others.     That isn't doing either of them any good!     Rat nodded unhappily. What's her matter—? pointing.     Appendix. Something about this atmosphere sends it haywire. The thingitself isn't diseased, but it starts manufacturing poison. Patient diesin a week unless it is taken out.     Don't know it, he said briefly.     Do you mean to say you don't have an appendix? she demanded.     Rat folded his arms and considered this. Don't know. Maybe yes, maybeno. Where's it hurt?     Gray pointed out the location. The Centaurian considered this furtherand drifted into long contemplation. Watching him, Gray remembered hiseyes that night ... only      last     night ... in the office. Peterson hadrefused to meet them. After awhile Rat came out of it.     No, he waved. No appendix. Never nowhere appendix.     Then Mother Nature has finally woke up! she exclaimed. But why doCentaurians rate it exclusively?     Rat ignored this and asked one of her. What you and her doing upthere? He pointed back and up, to where Mars obliterated the stars.     You might call it a pleasure jaunt. She's only seventeen. We came overin a cruiser belonging to her father; it was rather large and easy tohandle. But the cruise ended when she lost control of the ship becauseof an attack of space-appendicitis. The rest you know.     So you?     So I'm a combination nurse, governess, guard and what have you. Orwill be until we get back. After this, I'll probably be looking forwork. She shivered.     Cold? he inquired concernedly.     On the contrary, I'm too warm. She started to remove the blanket. Ratthrew up a hand to stop her.     Leave on! Hot out here.     But I'm too hot now. I want to take it off!     No. Leave on. Wool blanket. Keep in body heat, yes. Keep out cold,yes. Keep in, keep out, likewise. See?     Gray stared at him. I never thought of it that way before. Why ofcourse! If it protects from one temperature, it will protect fromanother. Isn't it silly of me not to know that? Heat pressing on herface accented the fact.     What is your name? she asked. Your real one I mean.     He grinned. Big. You couldn't say it. Sound like Christmas andbottlenose together real fast. Just say Rat. Everybody does. His eyesswept the panel and flashed back to her. Your name Gray. Have a frontname?     Patti.     Pretty, Patti.     No, just Patti. Say, what's the matter with the cooling system?     Damn punk, he said. This crate for surface work. No space. Coolingsystem groan, damn punk. Won't keep cool here.     And ... she followed up, it will get warmer as we go out?     Rat turned back to his board in a brown study and carefully ignoredher. Gray grasped an inkling of what the coming week could bring.     But how about water? she demanded next. Is there enough?     He faced about. For her— nodding to Judith, and him— to Gladney,yes. Sparingly. Four hours every time, maybe. Back to Gray. You,me ... twice a day. Too bad. His eyes drifted aft to the tank ofwater. She followed. One tank water. All the rest fuel. Too bad, toobad. We get thirsty I think.  <doc-sep>Captain Bransten was a mousey, unimpressive sort of man. He was wearinga tropical tunic, but he still resembled a wilted lily more than he didan officer.     Have a seat, Major, he offered. He reached for a cigarette box on thedesk and extended it to me. He coughed in embarrassment when he saw itwas empty. Quickly, he pressed a button on his desk and the door poppedopen. A tall, blue Venusian stepped lithely into the room.     Sir? the Venusian asked.     We're out of cigarettes, Joe, the Captain said. Will you get ussome, please?     Sure thing, the Venusian answered. He smiled broadly and closed thedoor behind him.       Another Joe     , I thought.      Another damned Joe.       They steal them, Captain Bransten said abruptly.     Steal what? I asked.     Cigarettes. I sometimes think the cigarette is one of the few thingsthey like about Terran culture.     So Walsh had taken care of that angle too.      He does have a peculiarhabit, though. He has an affinity for Terran cigarettes.     Cigaretteswas the tip I should have given; not solars.     All right, I said, suppose we start at the beginning.     Captain Bransten opened his eyes wide. Sir? he asked.     What's with all this Joe business? It may be a very original name butI think its popularity here is a little outstanding.     Captain Bransten began to chuckle softly. I personally didn't think itwas so funny. I tossed him my withering Superior Officer's gaze andwaited for his explanation.     I hadn't realized this was your first time on Venus, he said.     Is there a local hero named Joe? I asked.     No, no, nothing like that, he assured me. It's a simple culture, youknow. Not nearly as developed as Mars.     I can see that, I said bitingly.     And the natives are only now becoming acquainted with Terran culture.Lots of enlisted men, you know.     I began to get the idea. And I began to appreciate Walsh's doubtfulancestry more keenly.     It's impossible to tell exactly where it all started, of course,Bransten was saying.     I was beginning to get angry. Very angry. I was thinking of Walshsitting back in a nice cozy foam chair back on Earth.     Get to the point, Captain! I barked.     Easy, sir, Bransten said, turning pale. I could see that the Captainwasn't used to entertaining Majors. The enlisted men. You know howthey are. They'll ask a native to do something and they'll call himJoe. 'Hey, Joe, give me a hand with this.' Or 'Listen, Joe, how'd youlike to earn some cigarettes?' Do you follow?     I follow, all right, I said bitterly.     Well, Bransten went on, that sort of thing mushrooms. The nativesare a simple, almost childish people. It appealed to them—the Joebusiness, I mean. Now they're all Joe. They like it. That and thecigarettes.     He cleared his throat and looked at me apologetically as if he werepersonally responsible for Venusian culture. In fact, he looked as ifhe were responsible for having put Venus in the heavens in the firstplace.     Do you understand, Major? Just a case of extended idiom, that's all.     Just a case of extended      idiot     , I thought. An idiot on a wild goosechase a hell of a long way from home.     I understand perfectly, I snapped. Where are my quarters?     Bransten asked a Venusian named Joe to show me my quarters, remindingme that chow was at thirteen hundred. As I was leaving, the firstVenusian came back with the cigarettes Bransten had ordered.     I could tell by the look on his face that he probably had half a cartonstuffed into his pockets. I shrugged and went to change into a tropicaltunic.     I called Earth right after chow. The Captain assured me that this sortof thing was definitely against regulations, but he submitted when Itwinkled my little gold leaf under his nose.     Walsh's face appeared on the screen. He was smiling, looking like a fatpussy cat.     What is it, Major? he asked.     This man Joe, I said. Can you give me any more on him?     Walsh's grin grew wider. Why, Major, he said, you're not having anydifficulties, are you?     None at all, I snapped back. I just thought I'd be able to find hima lot sooner if....     Take your time, Major, Walsh beamed. There's no rush at all.     I thought....     I'm sure you can do the job, Walsh cut in. I wouldn't have sent youotherwise.     Hell, I was through kidding around. Look....     He's somewhere in the jungle, you know, Walsh said.     I wanted to ram my fist into the screen, right smack up against thosebig white teeth. Instead, I cut off the transmission and watched thesurprised look on his face as his screen went blank millions of milesaway.     He blinked at the screen, trying to realize I'd deliberately hung up onhim.     Polk! he shouted, can you hear me?     I smiled, saw the twisted hatred on his features, and then the screenon my end went blank, too.       He's somewhere in the jungle, you know.       I thanked Captain Bransten for his hospitality and went back to myquarters.     As I saw it, there were two courses for me to follow.     One: I could say the hell with Walsh and Venus. That would mean hoppingthe next ship back to Earth.     It would also mean disobeying the direct order of a superior officer.It might mean demotion, and it might mean getting bounced out of theService altogether.     Two: I could assume there really was a guy name Joe somewhere in thatjungle, a Joe separate and apart from the other Joes on this planet, atrader Joe who knew the Martians well. I could always admit failure, ofcourse, and return empty handed. Mission not accomplished. Or, I mightreally find a guy who was trader Joe.     I made my decision quickly. I wanted to stay in the Service, andbesides Walsh may have been on the level for the first time in hislife. Maybe there was a Joe here who could help us on Mars. If therewas I'd try to find him. It was still a hell of a trick though.     I cursed Walsh again and pushed the buzzer near my bed.     A tall Venusian stepped into the room.     Joe? I asked, just to be sure.     Who else, boss? he answered.     I'm trying to locate someone, I said. I'll need a guide to take meinto the jungle. Can you get me one?     It'll cost you, boss, the Venusian said.     How much?     Two cartons of cigarettes at least.     Who's the guide? I asked.     How's the price sound?     Fine, fine, I said impatiently. And the Captain had said they werealmost a childish people!     His name is Joe, the Venusian told me. Best damn guide on theplanet. Take you anywhere you want to go, do anything you want to do.Courageous. Doesn't know the meaning of fear. I've known him to....     Skip it, I said, cutting the promotion short. Tell him to show uparound fifteen hundred with a complete list of what we'll need.     The Venusian started to leave.     And Joe, I said, stopping him at the door, I hope you're notoverlooking your commission on the deal.     His face broke into a wide grin. No danger of that, boss, he said.     When he was gone I began figuring out a plan of action. Obviously, I'djust have to traipse through the jungle looking for a guy named Joe ona planet where everyone was named Joe. Everybody, at least, but theCaptain, the small garrison attached to the Station, and me.  <doc-sep>   THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN     By BRYCE WALTON     Illustrated by BOB HAYES     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction June 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        First one up this tallest summit in the Solar       System was a rotten egg ... a very rotten egg!        Bruce heard their feet on the gravel outside and got up reluctantly toopen the door for them. He'd been reading some of Byron's poems he'dsneaked aboard the ship; after that he had been on the point of dozingoff, and now one of those strangely realistic dreams would have to bepostponed for a while. Funny, those dreams. There were faces in them ofhuman beings, or of ghosts, and other forms that weren't human at all,but seemed real and alive—except that they were also just parts of alast unconscious desire to escape death. Maybe that was it.     'Oh that my young life were a lasting dream, my spirit not awakeningtill the beam of an eternity should bring the 'morrow, Bruce said. Hesmiled without feeling much of anything and added, Thanks, Mr. Poe.     Jacobs and Anhauser stood outside. The icy wind cut through and intoBruce, but he didn't seem to notice. Anhauser's bulk loomed even largerin the special cold-resisting suiting. Jacobs' thin face frowned slylyat Bruce.     Come on in, boys, and get warm, Bruce invited.     Hey, poet, you're still here! Anhauser said, looking astonished.     We thought you'd be running off somewhere, Jacobs said.     Bruce reached for the suit on its hook, started climbing into it.Where? he asked. Mars looks alike wherever you go. Where did youthink I'd be running to?     Any place just so it was away from here and us, Anhauser said.     I don't have to do that. You are going away from me. That takes careof that, doesn't it?     Ah, come on, get the hell out of there, Jacobs said. He pulled therevolver from its holster and pointed it at Bruce. We got to get somesleep. We're starting up that mountain at five in the morning.     I know, Bruce said. I'll be glad to see you climb the mountain.     Outside, in the weird light of the double moons, Bruce looked up at thegigantic overhang of the mountain. It was unbelievable. The mountaindidn't seem to belong here. He'd thought so when they'd first hit Marseight months back and discovered the other four rockets that had nevergot back to Earth—all lying side by side under the mountain's shadow,like little white chalk marks on a tallyboard.     They'd estimated its height at over 45,000 feet, which was a lot higherthan any mountain on Earth. Yet Mars was much older, geologically. Theentire face of the planet was smoothed into soft, undulating red hillsby erosion. And there in the middle of barren nothingness rose that oneincredible mountain. On certain nights when the stars were right, ithad seemed to Bruce as though it were pointing an accusing finger atEarth—or a warning one.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the location where The Beast-Jewel of Mars takes place?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What does it mean when Garve abandons the ship to pursue the city's call in The Beast-Jewel of Mars? [SEP] <s>When Eric regained consciousness the people of the city were all abouthim. They were very fair, and the women were more beautiful than music.Yet now they stared at him with red hate in their eyes. An older mancame forward and struck at the copper hat with a stick. The clangdeafened Eric and the man cried, You are right. It is Eric the Bronze.Bring the ships and let him be scourged from the city.     The man drew back the stick and struck again, and Eric's back tookfire with the blow. The crowd chanted, Whips, bring the whips, andfear forced Eric to his feet. He fled then, running on the heedlessfeet of panic, outstripping those who were behind him until he passedthrough the great gates into the red dust floor of the canal. The gatesclosed behind him, and the dust beat upon him, and he paused, his hearthammering inside his chest like a great bell clapper. He turned andlooked behind to be sure he was safe.     The towers twinkled at him, and the music whispered to him, Come back,Eric North. Come back to the city.     He turned and stumbled back to the great gate and hammered on it untilhis fists were raw, pleading for it to open and let him back.     And deep inside him some part of his mind said, This is a madness youcannot escape. The city is evil, an evil like you have never known,and a fear as old as time coursed through his frame.     He seized the copper hat from his head, and beat on the lotus carvingsof the great door, crying, Let me in! Please, take me back into thecity.     And as he beat the city changed. It became dull and sordid and evil, acity of disgust, with every part offensive to the eye. The spires andminarets were gargoyles of hatred, twisted and misshapen, and the soundof the city was a macabre song of hate.     He stared, and his back was chill with superstitions as old as thebeginning of man. The city flickered, changing before his eyes until itwas beautiful again.     He stood, amazed, and put the metal hat back on his head. With themotion the shift took place again, and beauty was ugliness. Amazed, hestared at the illusion, and the thought came to him that the metal hathad not entirely failed him after all.     He turned and began to walk away from the city, and when it began tocall he took the hat off his head and found peace for a time. Then whenit began again he replaced the hat, and revulsion sped his footsteps.And so, hat on, hat off, he made his way down the dusty floor of thecanal, and up the rocky sides until he stood on the Martian desert, andthe canal was a thin line behind him. He breathed easily then, for hewas beyond the range of the illusions.     And now that his mind was his own again he began to study the problem,and to understand something of the nature of the forces against whichhe had been pitted.     The helmet contained an electrical circuit, designed as a shieldagainst electrical waves tuned to affect his brain. But the hat hadfailed because the city, whatever it was, had adjusted to this revisedpattern as he had approached it. Hence, the helmet had been no defenseagainst illusion. However, when he had jerked the helmet off suddenlyto beat on the door, his mental pattern had changed, too suddenly, andthe machine caught up only after he had glimpsed another image. Then asthe illusion adjusted replacing the helmet threw it off again.     He grinned wryly. He would have liked to know more about the city,whatever it was. He would have liked to know more about the people hehad seen, whether they were real or part of the illusion, and if theywere as ugly as the second city had been.     Yet the danger was too great. He would go back to his ship and make thearrangements to destroy the city. The ship was armed, and to deliverindirect fire over the edge of the canal would be simple enough. GarveNorth, his brother, waited back at the ship. If he knew of the city hewould have to go there. Eric must not take a chance on that. After theyhad blasted whatever it was that lay in the canal floor, then it wouldbe time enough to tell Garve, and go down to see what was left.     The ship rested easily on the flat sandstone area where he hadestablished base camp. Its familiar lines brought a smile to Eric'sface, a feeling of confidence now that tools and weapons were his again.     He opened the door and entered. The lock doors were left open so thathe could enter directly into the body of the ship. He came in in aswift leap, calling, Garve! Hey, Garve, where are you?     The ship remained mute. He prowled through it, calling, Garve,wondering where the young hothead had gone, and then he saw a noteclipped to the control board of the ship. He tore it loose impatientlyand began to read. Garve had scrawled:     Funny thing, Eric. A while ago I thought I heard music. I walked downto the canal, and it seemed like there were lights, and a town of somesort far down the canal. I wanted to investigate, but thought I'dbetter come back. But the thing has been in my mind for hours now, andI'm going down to see what it is. If you want to follow, come straightdown the canal.     Eric stared at the note, and the line of his jaw was white. ApparentlyGarve had seen the city from farther away, and its effect had not beenso strong. Even so, Garve's natural curiosity had done the rest.     Garve had gone down to the city, and Garve had no shielded hat. Ericselected two high explosive grenades from the ship's arsenal. Theywere small but they packed a lot of power. He had a pistol packedwith smaller pellets of the same explosive, and he had the hat. Thatshould be adequate. He thrust the bronze hat back on his head and beganwalking back to the canal.  <doc-sep>The return back to the city would always live in his mind as aphantasmagora, a montage of twisted hate and unseemly beauty. When hecame again to the gate he did not attempt to enter, but circled thewall, hat on, hat off, stiff limbed like a puppet dancing to the sametune over and over again. He found a place where he could scale thewall, and thrust the helmet on his head, and clawed up the misshapenwall. It was all he could do to make himself drop into the ugly city.     He heard a familiar voice as he dropped. Eric, the voice said. Eric,you did come back. The voice was his brother's, and he whirled,seeking the voice. A figure stood before him, a twisted caricature ofhis brother. The figure cried, The hat! You fool, get rid of thathat! The caricature that was his brother seized the hat, and jerkedso hard that the chin strap broke under Eric's chin. The hat was flungaway and sailed high and far over the fence and outside the city.     The phantasm flickered, the illusion moved. Garve was now more handsomethan ever, and the city was a dream of delight. Garve said, Come, andEric followed down a street of blue fur. He had no will to resist.     Garve said, Keep your head down and your face hidden. If we meetsomeone you may not be recognized. They won't be expecting you fromthis side of the city.     Eric asked, You knew I'd come after you?     Yes. The Legend said you'd be back.     Eric stopped and whirled to face his brother. The Legend? Eric theBronze? What is this wild fantasy?     Not so loud! Garve's voice cautioned him. Of course the crowd calledyou that because of the copper hat and your heavy tan. But the Eldersbelieve so too. I don't know what it is, Eric, reincarnation, prophesy,superstition, I only know that when I was with the Elders I believedthem. You are a part of a Legend. You are Eric the Bronze.     Eric looked down at his sun tanned hands and flexed them. He loosenedthe explosive pistol in its holster. At least he was going to be a wellarmed, well prepared Legend. And while one part of his mind marveledat the city and relaxed into a pleasure as deep as a dream, anotherstruggled with the almost forgotten desire to rescue his brother andescape. He asked, Who are the Elders?     We are going to them, to the center of the city. Garve's voicesharpened, Keep your head down. I think the last two men we passed arelooking after us. Don't look back.     After a moment Garve said, I think they are following us. Get readyto run. If we are separated, keep going until you reach City Center.The Elders will be expecting you. Garve glanced back, and his voicesharpened, Now! Run!     They ran. But as they ran figures began to converge upon them. Fartherup the street others appeared, cutting off their flight.     Garve cried, In here, and pulled Eric into a crevice between twobuildings. Eric drew his gun, and savagery began to dance in his eyes.The soft fur muffled sounds of pursuit closed in upon them.     Garve put one hand on Eric's gun hand and said, Wait here. And if youvalue my life, don't use that gun. Then he was gone, running deerlikedown the street.     For an instant Eric thought the ruse had succeeded. He heard cries andtwo men passed him running in pursuit. But then the cry came back. Lethim go. Get the other one. The other one.     Eric was seen an instant later, and the people of the city began toconverge upon him. He could have destroyed them all with his charges inthe gun, but his brother's warning shrieked in his ears, If you valuemy life don't use the gun.     There was nothing he could do. Eric stood quietly until he was takenprisoner. They moved him to the center of the wide fur street. Two menheld his arms, and twisted painfully. The crowd looked at him, coldly,calculatingly. One of them said, Get the whips. If we whip him he willnot come back. The city twinkled, and the music was so faint he couldhardly hear it.     There was only one weapon Eric could use. He had gathered from Garve'swords that these people were superstitious.     He laughed, a great chest-shattering laugh that gusted out into thethin Martian air. He laughed and cried in a great voice, And can youso easily dispose of a Legend? If I am Eric of the Legend, can whipsdefeat the prophesy?     There was an instant when he could have twisted loose. They stood,fear-bound at his words. But there was no place to hide, and withoutthe use of his weapons Eric could not have gone far. He had to bluff itout.  <doc-sep>Eric caught a faint nod here, a gesture there. Kroon nodded as ifin satisfaction. He turned to the girl, And what is your opinion,Daughter of the City?     Nolette's expression held sorrow, as if she looked into the far future.She said, He is Eric the Bronze. I have no doubt.     Eric asked, And what is this Legend of Eric the Bronze? Why am I sodespised in the city?     Kroon answered, According to the Ancient Legend you will destroy thecity. This, and other things.     Eric gaped. No wonder the crowd had shown such hatred. But why werethe elders so friendly? They were obviously the governing body, and ifthere was strife between them and the people it had not shown in therespect the crowd had accorded Nolette.     Kroon said, I see you are puzzled. Let me tell you the story of theCity. The City is old. It dates from long ago when the canals of Marsran clear and green with water, and the deserts were vineyards andgardens. The drouth came, and the changes in climate, and soon itbecame plain that the people of Mars were doomed. They had ships, andcould build more, and gradually they left to colonize other planets.Yet they could take little of their science. And fear and riotsdestroyed much. Also there were those who were filled with love forthis homeland, and who thought that one day it might be habitableagain. All the skill of the ancient Martian fathers went into thebuilding of a giant machine, the machine that is the City, to protect asmall colony of those who were chosen to remain on Mars.     This whole city is a machine! Eric asked.     Yes, or the product of one. The heart of it lies underneath our feet,in caverns beneath this building. The nature of the machine is this,that it translates thought into reality.     Eric stared. The idea was staggering.     This is essentially simple, although the technology is complex. It isnecessary to have a recording device, to capture thought, a transmutingdevice capable of transmuting the red dust of the desert into anysort of material desired, and a construction device, to assemble thismaterial into the pattern already recorded from thought. Kroon paused.You still doubt, my friend. Perhaps you are thirsty after your escape.Think strongly of a tall glass of cold water, visualize it in yourmind, the sight and the fluidity and the touch of it.     Eric did so. Without warning a glass of water stood on the table beforehim. He touched the water to his lips. It was cool and satisfying. Hedrank it, convinced completely.     Eric asked, And I am to destroy the City?     Yes. The time has come.     But why? Eric demanded. For an instant he could see the twinklingbeauty as clearly as if he had stood outside the walls of this building.     Kroon said, There are difficulties. The machine builds according tothe mass will of the people, though it is sensitive to the individualin areas where it does not conflict with the imagination of the mass.We have had strangers, visitors, and even our own people, who grewdrunk with the power of the machine, who dreamed more and more lust andgreed into existence. These were banished from the city, and so strongis the call of the city that many of them became victims of their ownevilness, and now walk mindlessly, with no thought but to seek for thebeauty they have lost here.     Kroon sighed. The people have lost the will to learn. Many do not evenknow of the machine. Our science is almost gone, and only a few of us,the dreamers, the elders, have kept alive the old knowledge of themachine and its history. By the collected powers of our imagination webuild and control the outward appearance of the city.     We have passed this down from father to son. A part of the ancientLegend is that the builders made provisions for the machine to bedestroyed when contact with outsiders had been made once again, so thatour people would again have to struggle forward to knowledge and power.The instrument of destruction was to be a man termed Eric the Bronze.It is not that you are reborn. It is just that sometime such a manwould come.     Eric said, I can understand the Bronze part. They had thought that aspace man might well be sun tanned. They had thought that a science toprotect against this beautiful illusion would provide a metal shieldof some sort, probably copper in nature. That such a man should comeis inevitable. But why Eric. Why the name Eric?     For the first time Nolette spoke. She said quietly, The name Ericwas an honorable name of the ancient fathers. It must have been theirthought that the new beginning should wait for some of their own farflung kind to return.     Eric nodded. He asked, What happens now?     Nothing. Dwell here with us and you will be safe from our people. Ifthe prediction is not soon fulfilled and you are not the Eric of theLegend, you may stay or go as you desire.     My brother, Garve. What about him?     He loves the city. He will also stay, though he will be outside thisbuilding. Kroon clasped his hands. Nolette, will you show Eric hisquarters?  <doc-sep>For some twenty minutes, he raced through a dizzying, nightmare worldof dark rocketfront alleys and shouting voices and pursuing feet.     At last, abruptly, he realized that he was alone and in silence. He sawthat he was still on the rocketfront, but in the Tycho-ward side of thecity.     He huddled in a dark corner of a loading platform and lit a cigarette.A thousand stars—a thousand motionless balls of silver fire—shoneabove him through Luna City's transparent dome.     He was sorry he'd hit Cobb, of course. He was not sorry he'd run.Escaping at least gave him a power of choice, of decision.       You can do two things     , he thought.       You can give yourself up, and that's what a good officer would do.That would eliminate the escape charge. You'd get off with voluntarymanslaughter. Under interplanetary law, that would mean ten years inprison and a dishonorable discharge. And then you'd be free.         But you'd be through with rockets and space. They don't want newmen over thirty-four for officers on rockets or even for third-classjet-men on beat-up freighters—they don't want convicted killers. You'dget the rest of the thrill of conquering space through video and bypeeking through electric fences of spaceports.         Or—       There were old wives' tales of a group of renegade spacemen whooperated from the Solar System's frontiers. The spacemen weren'toutlaws. They were misfits, rejectees from the clearing houses on Earth.     And whereas no legally recognized ship had ventured past Mars, thesouped-up renegade rigs had supposedly hit the asteroids. Theirheadquarters was Venus. Their leader—a subject of popular andfantastic conjecture in the men's audiozines—was rumored to be ared-bearded giant.       So     , Ben reflected,      you can take a beer-and-pretzels tale seriously.You can hide for a couple of days, get rid of your uniform, change yourname. You can wait for a chance to get to Venus. To hell with yourduty. You can try to stay in space, even if you exile yourself fromEarth.       After all, was it right for a single second, a single insignificantsecond, to destroy a man's life and his dream?  <doc-sep>  The Beast-Jewel of Mars     By V. E. THIESSEN     The city was strange, fantastic, beautiful.     He'd never been there before, yet already he     was a fabulous legend—a dire, hateful legend.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Spring 1955.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      He lay on his stomach, a lean man in faded one piece dungarees, and anodd metallic hat, peering over the side of the canal. Behind him thelittle winds sifted red dust into his collar, but he could not move; hecould only sit there with his gaze riveted on the spires and minaretsthat twinkled in the distance, far down the bottom of the canal.     One part of his mind said,      This is it, this is the fabled city ofMars. This is the beauty and the fantasy and the music of the legends,and I must go down there.     Yet somewhere deeper in his mind, deep inthe primal urges that kept him from death, the warning was taut andurgent.      Get away. They have a part of your mind now. Get away from thecity before you lose it all. Get away before your body becomes a husk,a soulless husk to walk the low canals with sightless eyes, like thosewho came before you.       He strained to push back from the edge, trying to get that fantasticbeauty out of his sight. He fought the lids of his eyes, fought toclose them while he pushed himself back, but they remained open,staring at the jeweled towers, and borne on the little winds the thinwail of music reached him, saying,      Come into the city, come down intothe fabled city     .     He slid over the edge, sliding down the sloping sides of the canal.The rough sandstone tore at his dungarees, tore at his elbow where ittouched but he did not feel the pain. His face was turned toward thetowers, and the sound of his breathing was less than human.     His feet caught a projecting bit of stone and were slowed for aninstant, so that he turned sideways and rolled on, down into the reddust bottom of the canal, to lie face down in the dust, with the chinstrap of the odd metallic hat cutting cruelly into his chin.     He lay there an instant, knowing that now he had a chance. With hisface down like this, and the dust smarting his eyes the image was gonefor an instant. He had to get away, he knew that. He had to mount thesides of the canal and never look back.     He told himself, I am Eric North, from Earth, the Third Planet of Sol,and this is not real.     He squirmed in the dust, feeling it bite his cheeks; he squirmed untilhe could get up and see nothing but the red sand stone walls of thecanal. He ran at the walls and clawed his way up like an animal in hishaste. He wouldn't look again.     The wind freshened and the tune of the music began to talk to him. Ittold of going barefoot over long streets of fur. It told of jewels, andwine, and women as fair as springtime. These and more were in the city,waiting for him to claim them.     He sobbed, and clawed forward. He stopped to rest, and slowly his headbegan to turn. He turned, and the spires and minarets twinkled at him,beautiful, soothing, stopping the tears that had welled down his cheeks.     When he reached the bottom of the canal he began to run toward the city.     When he came to the city there was a high wall around it, and a heavygate carved with lotus blossoms. He beat against the gate and cried,Oh! Let me in. Let me in to the city! The music was richer now, as ifit were everywhere, and the gate swung open without the faintest sound.     A sentinel stood before the opened gate at the end of a long bluestreet. He was dressed in red silk with his sleeves edged in blueleopard skin, and he wore a belt with a jeweled short sword. He drewthe sword from its scabbard, and bowed forward until the point of thesword touched the street of blue fur. He said, I give you the welcomeof my sword, and the welcome of the city. Speak your name so that itmay be set in the records of the dreamers.     The music sang, and the spires twinkled, and Eric said, I am EricNorth!     The sword point jerked, and the sentinel straightened. His face waswhite. He cried aloud, It is Eric the Bronze. It is Eric of theLegend. He whirled the sword aloft, and smashed it upon Eric's metalhat, and the hatred was a blue flame in his eyes.  <doc-sep>I didn't realize it was a derelict when Spinelli first reportedit from the forward scope position. I assumed it was a Foundationship. The Holcomb Foundation was founded for the purpose ofdeveloping spaceflight, and as the years went by it took on the wholeresponsibility for the building and dispatching of space ships. Neverin history had there been any real evidence of extra-terrestrialintelligent life, and when the EMV Triangle proved barren, we all justassumed that the Universe was man's own particular oyster. That kind ofunreasoning arrogance is as hard to explain as it is to correct.     There were plenty of ships being lost in space, and immediately thatSpinelli's report from up forward got noised about the Maid every oneof us started mentally counting up his share of the salvage money. Allthis before we were within ten thousand miles of the hulk!     All spaceships look pretty much alike, but as I sat at the telescopeI saw that there was something different about this one. At such adistance I couldn't get too much detail in our small three inch glass,but I could see that the hulk was big—bigger than any ship I'd everseen before. I had the radar fixed on her and then I retired with myslide rule to Control. It wasn't long before I discovered that thederelict ship was on a near collision course, but there was somethingabout its orbit that was strange. I called Cohn, the Metering Officer,and showed him my figures.     Mister Cohn, I said, chart in hand, do these figures look right toyou?     Cohn's dark eyes lit up as they always did when he worked with figures.It didn't take him long to check me. The math is quite correct,Captain, he said. I could see that he hadn't missed the inference ofthose figures on the chart.     Assemble the ship's company, Mister Cohn, I ordered.     The assembly horn sounded throughout the Maid and I could feel the tugof the automatics taking over as the crew left their stations. Soonthey were assembled in Control.     You have all heard about Mister Spinelli's find, I said, I havecomputed the orbit and inspected the object through the glass. It seemsto be a spacer ... either abandoned or in distress.... Reaching intothe book rack above my desk I took down a copy of the Foundation's      Space Regulations     and opened it to the section concerning salvage.     Sections XVIII, Paragraph 8 of the Code Regulating InterplanetaryAstrogation and Commerce, I read, Any vessel or part of vessel foundin an abandoned or totally disabled condition in any region of spacenot subject to the sovereignty of any planet of the Earth-Venus-MarsTriangle shall be considered to be the property of the crew of thevessel locating said abandoned or disabled vessel except in such casesas the ownership of said abandoned or disabled vessel may be readilyascertained.... I looked up and closed the book. Simply stated, thatmeans that if that thing ahead of us is a derelict we are entitled toclaim it as salvage.     Unless it already belongs to someone? asked Spinelli.     That's correct Mister Spinelli, but I don't think there is much dangerof that, I replied quietly. My figures show that hulk out there camein from the direction of Coma Berenices....     There was a long silence before Zaleski shifted his two hundred poundsuneasily and gave a form to the muted fear inside me. You think ...you think it came from the      stars     , Captain?     Maybe even from beyond the stars, Cohn said in a low voice.     Looking at that circle of faces I saw the beginnings of greed. Thefirst impact of the Metering Officer's words wore off quickly and soonevery man of my crew was thinking that anything from the stars would beworth money ... lots of money.     Spinelli said, Do we look her over, Captain?     They all looked at me, waiting for my answer. I knew it would be worthplenty, and money hunger was like a fever inside me.     Certainly we look it over, Mister Spinelli, I said sharply.Certainly!  <doc-sep>Edmund rapped for attention. Celeste, Frieda, and Theodor glancedaround at him. He looked more frightfully strained, they realized, thaneven they felt. His expression was a study in suppressed excitement,but there were also signs of a knowledge that was almost toooverpowering for a human being to bear.     His voice was clipped, rapid. I think it's about time we stoppedworrying about our own affairs and thought of those of the SolarSystem, partly because I think they have a direct bearing on thedisappearances of Ivan end Rosalind. As I told you, I've been sortingout the crucial items from the material we've been presenting. Thereare roughly four of those items, as I see it. It's rather like amystery story. I wonder if, hearing those four clues, you will come tothe same conclusion I have.     The others nodded.     First, there are the latest reports from Deep Shaft, which, asyou know, has been sunk to investigate deep-Earth conditions. Atapproximately twenty-nine miles below the surface, the delvers haveencountered a metallic obstruction which they have tentatively namedthe durasphere. It resists their hardest drills, their strongestcorrosives. They have extended a side-tunnel at that level for aquarter of a mile. Delicate measurements, made possible by themirror-smooth metal surface, show that the durasphere has a slightcurvature that is almost exactly equal to the curvature of the Earthitself. The suggestion is that deep borings made anywhere in the worldwould encounter the durasphere at the same depth.     Second, the movements of the moons of Mars and Jupiter, andparticularly the debris left behind by the moons of Mars. GrantingPhobos and Deimos had duraspheres proportional in size to that ofEarth, then the debris would roughly equal in amount the material inthose two duraspheres' rocky envelopes. The suggestion is that thetwo duraspheres suddenly burst from their envelopes with such titanicvelocity as to leave those disrupted envelopes behind.     It was deadly quiet in the committee room.     Thirdly, the disappearances of Ivan and Rosalind, and especiallythe baffling hint—from Ivan's message in one case and Rosalind'sdownward-pointing glove in the other—that they were both somehow drawninto the depths of the Earth.     Finally, the dreams of the ESPs, which agree overwhelmingly in thefollowing points: A group of beings separate themselves from a godlikeand telepathic race because they insist on maintaining a degree ofmental privacy. They flee in great boats or ships of some sort. Theyare pursued on such a scale that there is no hiding place for themanywhere in the universe. In some manner they successfully camouflagetheir ships. Eons pass and their still-fanatical pursuers do notpenetrate their secret. Then, suddenly, they are detected.     Edmund waited. Do you see what I'm driving at? he asked hoarsely.  <doc-sep>Doran squinted through cigarette smoke. You are interesting mestrangely, my friend. Say on.     No. Matheny realized his head was a bit smoky. The walls of the boothseemed odd, somehow. They were just leatheroid walls, but they had anodd quality.     No, sorry, Gus, he said. I spoke too much.     Okay. Forget it. I do not like a man that pries. But look, let's bombout of here, how about it? Go have a little fun.     By all means. Matheny disposed of his last beer. I could use somegaiety.     You have come to the right town then. But let us get you a hotel roomfirst and some more up-to-date clothes.           Allez     , said Matheny. If I don't mean      allons     , or maybe      alors     .     The drop down to cab-ramp level and the short ride afterward soberedhim; the room rate at the Jupiter-Astoria sobered him still more.       Oh, well     , he thought,      if I succeed in this job, no one at home willquibble.       And the chamber to which he and Doran were shown was spectacularenough, with a pneumo direct to the bar and a full-wall transparency toshow the vertical incandescence of the towers.     Whoof! Matheny sat down. The chair slithered sensuously about hiscontours. He jumped. What the dusty hell—Oh. He tried to grin, buthis face burned. I see.     That is a sexy type of furniture, all right, agreed Doran. He loweredhimself into another chair, cocked his feet on the 3-D and waved acigarette. Which speaking of, what say we get some girls? It is nottoo late to catch them at home. A date here will usually start around2100 hours earliest.     What?     You know. Dames. Like a certain blonde warhead with twin radar andswivel mounting, and she just loves exotics. Such as you.     Me? Matheny heard his voice climb to a schoolboy squeak. Me?Exotic? Why, I'm just a little college professor. I g-g-g, that is—His tongue got stuck on his palate. He pulled it loose and moisteneduncertain lips.     You are from Mars. Okay? So you fought bushcats barehanded in anabandoned canal.     What's a bushcat? And we don't have canals. The evaporation rate—     Look, Pete, said Doran patiently. She don't have to know that, doesshe?     Well—well, no. I guess not No.     Let's order you some clothes on the pneumo, said Doran. I recommendyou buy from Schwartzherz. Everybody knows he is expensive.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What does it mean when Garve abandons the ship to pursue the city's call in The Beast-Jewel of Mars?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the storyline of PRISON PLANET? [SEP] <s>She started to laugh, and then, as she emerged from the passageway intothe big circular room, she cut her laugh short.     A second later, as I came along, I saw why.     There were two Deacons by the central desk. They were burly and hadthat hard, pinched-face look and wore the usual black belts. Electricclubs hung from the belts. Spidery looking pistols were at their sides.     I didn't know whether these two had heard my crack or not. I know theykept looking at me.     Lara and I crossed the room silently, she back to her desk, I to theexit door. The Deacons' remote, disapproving eyes swung in azimuth,tracking us.     I walked out and wanted to turn and smile at Lara, and get into mysmile something of the hope that someday, somewhere, I'd see heragain—but of course I didn't dare.      III     I had the usual difficulties at Travbur the next day. I won't go intothem, except to say that I was batted from office to office like a pingpong ball, and that, when I finally got my travel permit, I was made tofeel that I had stolen an original Picasso from the State Museum.     I made it in a day. Just. I got my permit thirty seconds before closingtime. I was to take the jetcopter to Center One at 0700 hours thefollowing morning.     In my living machine that evening, I was much too excited to work attheoretical research as I usually did after a hard day of trampingaround. I bathed, I paced a while, I sat and hummed nervously andgot up and paced again. I turned on the telepuppets. There was adrama about the space pilots who fly the nonconformist prisoners tothe forests and pulp-acetate plants on Mars. Seemed that the Southempolitical prisoners who are confined to the southern hemisphere ofMars, wanted to attack and conquer the north. The nonconformists, ledby our pilot, came through for the State in the end. Corn is thickerthan water. Standard.     There were, however, some good stereofilm shots of the limitlessforests of Mars, and I wondered what it would be like to live there, ina green, fresh-smelling land. Pleasant, I supposed, if you could put upwith the no doubt revolting morality of a prison planet.     And the drama seemed to point out that there was no more security forthe nonconformists out there than for us here on Earth. Maybe somewherein the universe, I thought, there would be peace for men. Somewherebeyond the solar system, perhaps, someday when we had the means to gothere....     Yet instinct told me that wasn't the answer, either. I thought of averse by an ancient pre-atomic poet named Hoffenstein. (People hadunwieldy, random combinations of letters for names in those days.) Thepoem went:   Wherever I go,    I   go too, And spoil everything.    That was it. The story of mankind.     I turned the glowlight down and lay on the pneumo after a while, but Ididn't sleep for a long, long time.     Then, when I did sleep, when I had been sleeping, I heard the voiceagain. The low, seductive woman's voice—the startling, shocking voiceout of my unconscious.           You have taken the first step     , she said.       You are on your wayto freedom. Don't stop now. Don't sink back into the lifelessness ofconformity. Go on ... on and on. Keep struggling, for that is the onlyanswer....       <doc-sep>He lit a cigarette and blew a smoke ring at the car's plush ceiling.It's a great system, isn't it, Joe? A true democracy. Even a jerk likeyou is free to do what he wants, as long as it's legal.     I think it's a lousy, filthy system. Joe's head was still tinglingwith pain and he felt suffocated. The CPA was everywhere, only now itwas also inside his head, telling him he couldn't do this, couldn't dothat. All his life it had been telling him he couldn't do things hewanted to do and      now     ....     Hendricks laughed. You'll change your opinion. We live in a clean,wonderful world, Joe. A world of happy, healthy people. Except forfreaks like yourself, criminals are—     Let me out! Joe grabbed at the door and was on the sidewalk, slammingthe door behind him before the car stopped completely.     He stared at the car as it pulled away from the curb and glided intothe stream of traffic again. He realized he was a prisoner ... aprisoner inside his own body ... made a prisoner by a world that hatedhim back.     He wanted to spit his contempt, but the increasingly familiar pain andvoice prevented him.     It was unlawful to spit on a sidewalk.   <doc-sep>Forty miles to the south, Hap Arnold Field was a blaze of light. Theairmen tumbled out of their quarters and dayrooms at the screech ofthe alert siren, and behind them their wives and children stretchedand yawned and worried. An alert! The older kids fussed and complainedand their mothers shut them up. No, there wasn't any alert scheduledfor tonight; no, they didn't know where Daddy was going; no, the kidscouldn't get up yet—it was the middle of the night.     And as soon as they had the kids back in bed, most of the mothersstruggled into their own airwac uniforms and headed for the briefingarea to hear.     They caught the words from a distance—not quite correctly. Riot!gasped an aircraftswoman first-class, mother of three. The wipes! I      told     Charlie they'd get out of hand and—Alys, we aren't safe. Youknow how they are about GI women! I'm going right home and get a cluband stand right by the door and—     Club! snapped Alys, radarscope-sergeant, with two childrenquerulously awake in her nursery at home. What in God's name is theuse of a club? You can't hurt a wipe by hitting him on the head. You'dbetter come along to Supply with me and draw a gun—you'll need itbefore this night is over.     But the airmen themselves heard the briefing loud and clear over thescramble-call speakers, and they knew it was not merely a matter oftrouble in the wipe quarters. The Jug! The governor himself had calledthem out; they were to fly interdicting missions at such-and-suchlevels on such-and-such flight circuits around the prison.     The rockets took off on fountains of fire; and the jets took off with awhistling roar; and last of all, the helicopters took off ... and theywere the ones who might actually accomplish something. They took uptheir picket posts on the prison perimeter, a pilot and two bombardiersin each 'copter, stone-faced, staring grimly alert at the prison below.     They were ready for the breakout.     But there wasn't any breakout.     The rockets went home for fuel. The jets went home for fuel. Thehelicopters hung on—still ready, still waiting.     The rockets came back and roared harmlessly about, and went away again.They stayed away. The helicopter men never faltered and never relaxed.The prison below them was washed with light—from the guard posts onthe walls, from the cell blocks themselves, from the mobile lights ofthe guard squadrons surrounding the walls.     North of the prison, on the long, flat, damp developments of reclaimedland, the matchbox row houses of the clerical neighborhoods showedlights in every window as the figgers stood ready to repel invasionfrom their undesired neighbors to the east, the wipes. In the crowdedtenements of the laborers' quarters, the wipes shouted from window towindow; and there were crowds in the bright streets.     The whole bloody thing's going to blow up! a helicopter bombardieryelled bitterly to his pilot, above the flutter and roar of thewhirling blades. Look at the mobs in Greaserville! The first breakoutfrom the Jug's going to start a fight like you never saw and we'll beright in the middle of it!     He was partly right. He would be right in the middle of it—for everyman, woman and child in the city-state would be right in the middle ofit. There was no place anywhere that would be spared.      No mixing.     Thatwas the prescription that kept the city-state alive. There's no harm ina family fight—and aren't all mechanics a family, aren't all laborersa clan, aren't all clerks and office workers related by closer tiesthan blood or skin?     But the declassed cons of the Jug were the dregs of every class; andonce they spread, the neat compartmentation of society was pierced. Thebreakout would mean riot on a bigger scale than any prison had everknown.     But he was also partly wrong. Because the breakout wasn't seeming tocome.  <doc-sep>Ben stiffened. And that's why you want me for an astrogator.     Maggie rose, her eyes wistful. If you want to come—and if you getwell. She looked at him strangely.     Suppose— He fought to find the right words. Suppose I got well anddecided not to join Jacob. What would happen to me? Would you let mego?     Her thin face was criss-crossed by emotion—alarm, then bewilderment,then fear. I don't know. That would be up to Jacob.     He lay biting his lip, staring at the photo of Jacob. She touched hishand and it seemed that sadness now dominated the flurry of emotionthat had coursed through her.     The only thing that matters, really, she murmured, is your walkingagain. We'll try this afternoon. Okay?     Okay, he said.     When she left, his eyes were still turned toward Jacob's photo.     He was like two people, he thought.     Half of him was an officer of the Space Corps. Perhaps one singlestarry-eyed boy out of ten thousand was lucky enough to reach that goal.     He remembered a little picture book his mother had given him when shewas alive. Under the bright pictures of spacemen were the captions:     A Space Officer Is Honest A Space Officer Is Loyal. A SpaceOfficer Is Dutiful.     Honesty, loyalty, duty. Trite words, but without those concepts,mankind would never have broken away from the planet that held itprisoner for half a million years.     Without them, Everson, after three failures and a hundred men dead,would never have landed on the Moon twenty-seven years ago.  <doc-sep>Sauer and Flock were what are called prison wolves. They werelaborers—wipes, for short—or, at any rate, they had been once.They had spent so much time in prisons that it was sometimes hard evenfor them to remember what they really were, outside. Sauer was a big,grinning redhead with eyes like a water moccasin. Flock was a lithefive-footer with the build of a water moccasin—and the sad, stupideyes of a calf.     Sauer stopped yelling for a moment. Hey, Flock!     What do you want, Sauer? called Flock from his own cell.     We got a lady with us! Maybe we ought to cut out this yelling soas not to disturb the lady! He screeched with howling, maniacallaughter. Anyway, if we don't cut this out, they'll get us in trouble,Flock!     Oh, you think so? shrieked Flock. Jeez, I wish you hadn't said that,Sauer. You got me scared! I'm so scared, I'm gonna have to yell!     The howling started all over again.     The inside guard finished putting the new prisoners away and turned offthe tangler field once more. He licked his lips. Say, you want to takea turn in here for a while?     Uh-uh. The outside guard shook his head.     You're yellow, the inside guard said moodily. Ah, I don't know why Idon't quit this lousy job. Hey, you! Pipe down or I'll come in and beatyour head off!     Ee-ee-ee! screamed Sauer in a shrill falsetto. I'm scared! Then hegrinned at the guard, all but his water-moccasin eyes. Don't you knowyou can't hurt a wipe by hitting him on the head, Boss?     Shut      up     ! yelled the inside guard.     Sue-Ann Bradley's weeping now was genuine. She simply could not helpit. The crazy yowling of the hard-timers, Sauer and Flock, was gettingunder her skin. They weren't even—even      human     , she told herselfmiserably, trying to weep silently so as not to give the guards thesatisfaction of hearing her—they were animals!     Resentment and anger, she could understand. She told herself doggedlythat resentment and anger were natural and right. They were perfectlynormal expressions of the freedom-loving citizen's rebellion againstthe vile and stifling system of Categoried Classes. It was      good     thatSauer and Flock still had enough spirit to struggle against the vicioussystem—     But did they have to scream so?     The senseless yelling was driving her crazy. She abandoned herself toweeping and she didn't even care who heard her any more. Senseless!     It never occurred to Sue-Ann Bradley that it might not be senseless,because noise hides noise. But then she hadn't been a prisoner verylong.      III     I smell trouble, said O'Leary to the warden.     Trouble? Trouble? Warden Schluckebier clutched his throat and hislittle round eyes looked terrified—as perhaps they should have. WardenGodfrey Schluckebier was the almighty Caesar of ten thousand inmates inthe Jug, but privately he was a fussy old man trying to hold onto thelast decent job he would have in his life.     Trouble?      What     trouble?     O'Leary shrugged. Different things. You know Lafon, from Block A? Thisafternoon, he was playing ball with the laundry orderlies in the yard.     The warden, faintly relieved, faintly annoyed, scolded: O'Leary, whatdid you want to worry me for? There's nothing wrong with playing ballin the yard. That's what recreation periods are for.     You don't see what I mean, Warden. Lafon was a professional on theoutside—an architect. Those laundry cons were laborers. Pros and wipesdon't mix; it isn't natural. And there are other things.     O'Leary hesitated, frowning. How could you explain to the warden thatit didn't      smell     right?     For instance—Well, there's Aunt Mathias in the women's block. She'sa pretty good old girl—that's why she's the block orderly. She's alifer, she's got no place to go, she gets along with the other women.But today she put a woman named Bradley on report. Why? Because shetold Bradley to mop up in wipe talk and Bradley didn't understand. NowMathias wouldn't—     The warden raised his hand. Please, O'Leary, don't bother me aboutthat kind of stuff. He sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. He pouredhimself a cup of steaming black coffee from a brewpot, reached in adesk drawer for something, hesitated, glanced at O'Leary, then droppeda pale blue tablet into the cup. He drank it down eagerly, ignoring thescalding heat.     He leaned back, looking suddenly happier and much more assured.     O'Leary, you're a guard captain, right? And I'm your warden. You haveyour job, keeping the inmates in line, and I have mine. Now your job isjust as important as my job, he said piously.       Everybody's     job isjust as important as everybody else's, right? But we have to stick toour own jobs. We don't want to try to      pass     .     O'Leary snapped erect, abruptly angry. Pass! What the devil way wasthat for the warden to talk to him?     Excuse the expression, O'Leary, the warden said anxiously. I mean,after all, 'Specialization is the goal of civilization,' right? He wasa great man for platitudes, was Warden Schluckebier.       You     know youdon't want to worry about      my     end of running the prison. And      I     don'twant to worry about      yours     . You see? And he folded his hands andsmiled like a civil-service Buddha.  <doc-sep>O'Leary noted, with the part of his mind that always noted thosethings, that the orderly had been leaning on his broom until he'dnoticed the captain coming by. Of course, there wasn't much tosweep—the spray machines and sweeperdozers had been over thecobblestones of the yard twice already that day. But it was an inmate'sjob to keep busy. And it was a guard captain's job to notice when theydidn't.     There wasn't anything wrong with that job, he told himself. It was aperfectly good civil-service position—better than post-office clerk,not as good as Congressman, but a job you could be proud to hold. He      was     proud of it. It was      right     that he should be proud of it. He wascivil-service born and bred, and naturally he was proud and content todo a good, clean civil-service job.     If he had happened to be born a fig—a      clerk     , he correctedhimself—if he had happened to be born a clerk, why, he would have beenproud of that, too. There wasn't anything wrong with being a clerk—ora mechanic or a soldier, or even a laborer, for that matter.     Good laborers were the salt of the Earth! They weren't smart, maybe,but they had a—well, a sort of natural, relaxed joy of living. O'Learywas a broad-minded man and many times he had thought almost with atouch of envy how      comfortable     it must be to be a wipe—a      laborer     .No responsibilities. No worries. Just an easy, slow routine of work andloaf, work and loaf.     Of course, he wouldn't      really     want that kind of life, because he wasCivil Service and not the kind to try to cross over class barriers thatweren't      meant     to be—     Evening, Cap'n.     He nodded to the mechanic inmate who was, theoretically, in charge ofmaintaining the prison's car pool, just inside the gate.     Evening, Conan, he said.     Conan, now—he was a big buck greaser and he would be there for thenext hour, languidly poking a piece of fluff out of the air filter onthe prison jeep. Lazy, sure. Undependable, certainly. But he kept thecars going—and, O'Leary thought approvingly, when his sentence was upin another year or so, he would go back to his life with his statusrestored, a mechanic on the outside as he had been inside, and hecertainly would never risk coming back to the Jug by trying to pass asCivil Service or anything else. He knew his place.     So why didn't this girl, this Sue-Ann Bradley, know hers?      II     Every prison has its Greensleeves—sometimes they are called bydifferent names. Old Marquette called it the canary; Louisiana Statecalled it the red hats; elsewhere it was called the hole, thesnake pit, the Klondike. When you're in it, you don't much care whatit is called; it is a place for punishment.     And punishment is what you get.     Block O in Estates-General Correctional Institution was thedisciplinary block, and because of the green straitjackets itsinhabitants wore, it was called the Greensleeves. It was a community ofits own, an enclave within the larger city-state that was the Jug. Andlike any other community, it had its leading citizens ... two of them.Their names were Sauer and Flock.     Sue-Ann Bradley heard them before she reached the Greensleeves. Shewas in a detachment of three unfortunates like herself, convoyed by anirritable guard, climbing the steel steps toward Block O from the floorbelow, when she heard the yelling.     Owoo-o-o, screamed Sauer from one end of the cell block andYow-w-w! shrieked Flock at the other.     The inside deck guard of Block O looked nervously at the outside deckguard. The outside guard looked impassively back—after all, he was onthe outside.     The inside guard muttered: Wipe rats! They're getting on my nerves.     The outside guard shrugged.     Detail,      halt     ! The two guards turned to see what was coming in asthe three new candidates for the Greensleeves slumped to a stop at thehead of the stairs. Here they are, Sodaro told them. Take good careof 'em, will you? Especially the lady—she's going to like it here,because there's plenty of wipes and greasers and figgers to keep hercompany. He laughed coarsely and abandoned his charges to the Block Oguards.     The outside guard said sourly: A woman, for God's sake. Now O'Learyknows I hate it when there's a woman in here. It gets the others allriled up.     Let them in, the inside guard told him. The others are riled upalready.     Sue-Ann Bradley looked carefully at the floor and paid them noattention. The outside guard pulled the switch that turned on thetanglefoot electronic fields that swamped the floor of the blockcorridor and of each individual cell. While the fields were on, youcould ignore the prisoners—they simply could not move fast enough,against the electronic drag of the field, to do any harm. But it was arule that, even in Block O, you didn't leave the tangler fields on allthe time—only when the cell doors had to be opened or a prisoner'srestraining garment removed.     Sue-Ann walked bravely forward through the opened gate—and fell flaton her face. It was her first experience of a tanglefoot field. It waslike walking through molasses.     The guard guffawed and lifted her up by one shoulder. Take it easy,auntie. Come on, get in your cell. He steered her in the rightdirection and pointed to a greensleeved straitjacket on the cell cot.Put that on. Being as you're a lady, we won't tie it up, but the rulessay you got to wear it and the rules—Hey. She's crying! He shook hishead, marveling. It was the first time he had ever seen a prisoner cryin the Greensleeves.     However, he was wrong. Sue-Ann's shoulders were shaking, but not fromtears. Sue-Ann Bradley had got a good look at Sauer and at Flock as shepassed them by and she was fighting off an almost uncontrollable urgeto retch.  <doc-sep>He almost squeezed my arm when I got to the time Mom and Pop were blownup in a surfacing boat.     Well, after the funeral, there was a little money, so Sis decided wemight as well use it to migrate. There was no future for her on Earth,she figured. You know, the three-out-of-four.     How's that?     The three-out-of-four. No more than three women out of every four onEarth can expect to find husbands. Not enough men to go around. Wayback in the Twentieth Century, it began to be felt, Sis says, what withthe wars and all. Then the wars went on and a lot more men began to dieor get no good from the radioactivity. Then the best men went to theplanets, Sis says, until by now even if a woman can scrounge a personalhusband, he's not much to boast about.     The stranger nodded violently. Not on Earth, he isn't. Those busybodyanura make sure of that. What a place! Suffering gridniks, I had abellyful!     He told me about it. Women were scarce on Venus, and he hadn't beenable to find any who were willing to come out to his lonely littleislands; he had decided to go to Earth where there was supposed to be asurplus. Naturally, having been born and brought up on a very primitiveplanet, he didn't know it's a woman's world, like the older boys inschool used to say.     The moment he landed on Earth he was in trouble. He didn't know he hadto register at a government-operated hotel for transient males; hethrew a bartender through a thick plastic window for saying somethingnasty about the length of his hair; and      imagine     !—he not onlyresisted arrest, resulting in three hospitalized policemen, but hesassed the judge in open court!     Told me a man wasn't supposed to say anything except through femaleattorneys. Told      her     that where      I     came from, a man spoke his piecewhen he'd a mind to, and his woman walked by his side.     What happened? I asked breathlessly.     Oh, Guilty of This and Contempt of That. That blown-up brinosaur tookmy last munit for fines, then explained that she was remitting therest because I was a foreigner and uneducated. His eyes grew dark fora moment. He chuckled again. But I wasn't going to serve all thosefancy little prison sentences. Forcible Citizenship Indoctrination,they call it? Shook the dead-dry dust of the misbegotten, God forsakenmother world from my feet forever. The women on it deserve their men.My pockets were folded from the fines, and the paddlefeet were lookingfor me so close I didn't dare radio for more munit. So I stowed away.  <doc-sep>   PRISON PLANET     By BOB TUCKER     To remain on Mars meant death from agonizing     space-sickness, but Earth-surgery lay     days of flight away. And there was only     a surface rocket in which to escape—with     a traitorous Ganymedean for its pilot.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1942.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Listen, Rat! Roberds said, what      I     say goes around here. It doesn'thappen to be any of your business. I'm still in possession of my wits,and I know Peterson can't handle that ship. Furthermore Gladney willbe in it too, right along side of that sick girl in there! And Rat,get this:      I'm     going to pilot that ship. Understand? Consulate orno Consulate, job or no job, I'm wheeling that crate to Earth becausethis is an emergency. And the emergency happens to be bigger than myposition, to me at any rate. His tone dropped to a deadly softness.Now will you kindly remove your stinking carcass from this office?     Unheeding, Rat swung his eyes around in the gloom and discovered thewoman, a nurse in uniform. He blinked at her and she returned the look,wavering. She bit her lip and determination flowed back. She met thestare of his boring, off-colored eyes. Rat grinned suddenly. Nurse Grayalmost smiled back, stopped before the others could see it.     Won't go! The Centaurian resumed his fight. You not go, lose job,black-listed. Never get another. Look at me. I know. He retreateda precious step to escape a rolled up fist. Little ship carry fournice. Rip out lockers and bunks. Swing hammocks. Put fuel in watertanks. Live on concentrates. Earth hospital fix bellyache afterwards,allright. I pilot ship. Yes?     No! Roberds screamed.     Almost in answer, a moan issued from a small side room. The men in theoffice froze as Nurse Gray ran across the room. She disappeared throughthe narrow door.     Peterson, the field manager ordered, come over here and help methrow this rat out.... He went for Rat. Peterson swung up out of hischair with balled fist. The outlander backed rapidly.     No need, no need, no need! he said quickly. I go. Still backing, heblindly kicked at the door and stepped into the night.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the storyline of PRISON PLANET?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the connection between Judith and Patti Gray in the story PRISON PLANET? [SEP] <s>Whew! Nurse Gray came back to throbbing awareness, the all toofamiliar feeling of a misplaced stomach attempting to force itscrowded way into her boots plaguing her. Rockets roared in the rear.She loosened a few straps and twisted over. Judith was still out, herface tensed in pain. Gray bit her lip and twisted the other way. TheCentaurian was grinning at her.     Do you always leave in a hurry? she demanded, and instantly wishedshe hadn't said it. He gave no outward sign.     Long-time sleep, he announced. Four, five hours maybe. The cheststrap was lying loose at his side.     That long! she was incredulous. I'm never out more than threehours! Unloosening more straps, she sat up, glanced at the controlpanel.     Not taking time, he stated simply and pointed to a dial. Gray shookher head and looked at the others.     That isn't doing either of them any good!     Rat nodded unhappily. What's her matter—? pointing.     Appendix. Something about this atmosphere sends it haywire. The thingitself isn't diseased, but it starts manufacturing poison. Patient diesin a week unless it is taken out.     Don't know it, he said briefly.     Do you mean to say you don't have an appendix? she demanded.     Rat folded his arms and considered this. Don't know. Maybe yes, maybeno. Where's it hurt?     Gray pointed out the location. The Centaurian considered this furtherand drifted into long contemplation. Watching him, Gray remembered hiseyes that night ... only      last     night ... in the office. Peterson hadrefused to meet them. After awhile Rat came out of it.     No, he waved. No appendix. Never nowhere appendix.     Then Mother Nature has finally woke up! she exclaimed. But why doCentaurians rate it exclusively?     Rat ignored this and asked one of her. What you and her doing upthere? He pointed back and up, to where Mars obliterated the stars.     You might call it a pleasure jaunt. She's only seventeen. We came overin a cruiser belonging to her father; it was rather large and easy tohandle. But the cruise ended when she lost control of the ship becauseof an attack of space-appendicitis. The rest you know.     So you?     So I'm a combination nurse, governess, guard and what have you. Orwill be until we get back. After this, I'll probably be looking forwork. She shivered.     Cold? he inquired concernedly.     On the contrary, I'm too warm. She started to remove the blanket. Ratthrew up a hand to stop her.     Leave on! Hot out here.     But I'm too hot now. I want to take it off!     No. Leave on. Wool blanket. Keep in body heat, yes. Keep out cold,yes. Keep in, keep out, likewise. See?     Gray stared at him. I never thought of it that way before. Why ofcourse! If it protects from one temperature, it will protect fromanother. Isn't it silly of me not to know that? Heat pressing on herface accented the fact.     What is your name? she asked. Your real one I mean.     He grinned. Big. You couldn't say it. Sound like Christmas andbottlenose together real fast. Just say Rat. Everybody does. His eyesswept the panel and flashed back to her. Your name Gray. Have a frontname?     Patti.     Pretty, Patti.     No, just Patti. Say, what's the matter with the cooling system?     Damn punk, he said. This crate for surface work. No space. Coolingsystem groan, damn punk. Won't keep cool here.     And ... she followed up, it will get warmer as we go out?     Rat turned back to his board in a brown study and carefully ignoredher. Gray grasped an inkling of what the coming week could bring.     But how about water? she demanded next. Is there enough?     He faced about. For her— nodding to Judith, and him— to Gladney,yes. Sparingly. Four hours every time, maybe. Back to Gray. You,me ... twice a day. Too bad. His eyes drifted aft to the tank ofwater. She followed. One tank water. All the rest fuel. Too bad, toobad. We get thirsty I think.  <doc-sep>Gladney unexpectedly exploded. He had been awake for a long time,watching Rat at the board. Wrenching loose a chest strap he attemptedto sit up.     Rat! Damn you Rat, listen to me!      When're you going to start braking     ,Rat?     I hear you. He turned on Gladney with dulled eyes. Lie down. Yousick.     I'll be damned if I'm going to lie here and let you drive us to Orion!We must be near the half-way line! When are you going to start braking?     Not brake, Rat answered sullenly. No, not brake.           Not brake?      Gladney screamed and sat bolt upright. Nurse Gray jumpedfor him. Are you crazy, you skinny rat? Gray secured a hold on hisshoulders and forced him down. You gotta brake! Don't you understandthat? You have to, you vacuum-skull! Gray was pleading with him toshut-up like a good fellow. He appealed to her. He's gotta brake! Makehim!     He has a good point there, Rat, she spoke up. What about thishalf-way line?     He turned to her with a weary ghost of the old smile on his face. Wepassed line. Three days ago, maybe. A shrug of shoulders.     Passed! Gray and Gladney exclaimed in unison.     You catch on quick, Rat nodded. This six day, don't you know?     Gladney sank back, exhausted. The nurse crept over to the pilot.Getting your figures mixed, aren't you?     Rat shook his head and said nothing.     But Roberds said eight days, and he—     —he on Mars. I here. Boss nuts, too sad. He drive, it be eight days.Now only six. He cast a glance at Judith and found her eyes closed.Six days, no brake. No.     I see your point, and appreciate it, Gray cut in. But now what? Thisdeceleration business ... there is a whole lot I don't know, but somethings I do!     Rat refused the expected answer. Land tonight, I think. Never been toEarth before. Somebody meet us, I think.     You can bet your leather boots somebody will meet us! Gladney cried.Gray turned to him. The Chief'll have the whole planet waiting for      you     ! He laughed with real satisfaction. Oh yes, Rat, they'll besomebody waiting for us all right. And then he added: If we land.     Oh, we land. Rat confided, glad to share a secret.     Yeah, Gladney grated. But in how many little pieces?     I've never been to Earth before. Nice, I think. Patti Gray caughtsomething new in the tone and stared at him. Gladney must have noticedit, too.     The Centaurian moved sideways and pointed. Gray placed her eyes in thevacated position.     Earth! she shouted.     Quite. Nice. Do me a favor?     Just name it!     Not drink long time. Some water?     Gray nodded and went to the faucet. The drumming seemed remote, thetension vanished. She was an uncommonly long time in returning, at lastshe appeared beside him, outstretched hands dry.     There isn't any left, Rat.     Rat batted his tired eyes expressively. Tasted punk, he grinned ather.     She sat down on the floor suddenly and buried her face.     Rat, she said presently, I want to ask you something, ratherpersonal? Your ... name. 'Rat'? Roberds told me something about yourrecord. But ... please tell me, Rat. You didn't know the attack wascoming, did you?     He grinned again and waggled his head at her. No. Who tell Rat?Suddenly he was deadly serious as he spoke to her. Rat a.w.o.l., goout to help sick man alone in desert. Rat leave post. Not time sendcall through. Come back with man, find horrible thing happen.     But why didn't you explain?     He grinned again. Who believe? Sick man die soon after.     Gladney sat up. He had heard the conversation between the two. You'reright, Rat. No one would have believed you then, and no one will now.You've been safe enough on Mars, but the police will nab you as soon asyou get out of the ship.     They can't! cried Patti Gray. They can't hurt him after what he'sdone now.     The Centaurian grinned in a cynical way.     Police not get me, Gladney. Gladney's memory damn punk, I think. Earthpretty nice place, maybe. But not for Rat.     Gladney stared at him for minutes. Then: Say, I get it ... you're—     Shut up! Rat cut him off sharply. You talk too much. He cast aglance at Nurse Gray and then threw a meaning look at Gladney.  <doc-sep>Existence dragged. Paradoxically, time dropped away like a cloak asthe sense of individual hours and minutes vanished, and into its placecrept a slow-torturing substitute. As the ship revolved, monotonously,first the ceiling and then the floor took on dullish, maddeningaspects, eyes ached continuously from staring at them time and againwithout surcease. The steady, drumming rockets crashed into the mindand the walls shrieked malevolently on the eyeballs. Dull, throbbingsameness of the poorly filtered air, a growing taint in the nostrils.Damp warm skin, reeking blankets. The taste of fuel in the mouth forrefreshment. Slowly mounting mental duress. And above all the drummingof the rockets.     Once, a sudden, frightening change of pitch in the rockets and a wild,sickening lurch. Meteor rain. Maddening, plunging swings to the farright and left, made without warning. A torn lip as a sudden lurchtears the faucet from her mouth. A shattered tooth.     Sorry! Rat whispered.     Shut up and drive! she cried.     Patti ... Judith called out, in pain.     Peace of mind followed peace of body into a forgotten limbo of lostthings, a slyly climbing madness directed at one another. Waspishwords uttered in pain, fatigue and temper. Fractiousness. A hot,confined, stale hell. Sleep became a hollow mockery, as bad waterand concentrated tablets brought on stomach pains to plague them.Consciousness punctured only by spasms of lethargy, shared to someextent by the invalids. Above all, crawling lassitude and incalescenttempers.     Rat watched the white, drawn face swing in the hammock beside him. Andhis hands never faltered on the controls.     Never a slackening of the terrific pace; abnormal speed, gruellingdrive ... drive ... drive. Fear. Tantalizing fear made worse becauseRat couldn't understand. Smothered moaning that ate at his nerves.Grim-faced, sleep-wracked, belted to the chair, driving!     How many days? How many days! Gray begged of him thousands of timesuntil the very repetition grated on her eardrums. How many days?His only answer was an inhuman snarl, and the cruel blazing of thoseinhuman eyes.     She fell face first to the floor. I can't keep it up! she cried. Thesound of her voice rolled along the hot steel deck. I cant! I cant!     A double handful of tepid water was thrown in her face. Get up! Ratstood over her, face twisted, his body hunched. Get up! She stared athim, dazed. He kicked her. Get up! The tepid water ran off her faceand far away she heard Judith calling.... She forced herself up. Ratwas back in the chair.  <doc-sep>When the door slammed shut Roberds locked it. Peterson slumped in thechair.     Do you mean that, Chief? About taking the ship yourself?     True enough. Roberds cast an anxious glance at the partly closeddoor, lowered his voice. It'll cost me my job, but that girl in therehas to be taken to a hospital quickly! And it's her luck to be landedon a planet that doesn't boast even one! So it's Earth ... or shedies. I'd feel a lot better too if we could get Gladney to a hospital,I'm not too confident of that patching job. He pulled a pipe from ajacket pocket. So, might as well kill two birds with one stone ... andthat wasn't meant to be funny!     Peterson said nothing, sat watching the door.     Rat has the right idea, Roberds continued, but I had already thoughtof it. About the bunks and lockers. Greaseball has been out there allnight tearing them out. We just      might     be able to hop by dawn ... andhell of a long, grinding hop it will be!     The nurse came out of the door.     How is she? Roberds asked.     Sleeping, Gray whispered. But sinking....     We can take off at dawn, I think. He filled the pipe and didn't lookat her. You'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock.     I can take it. Suddenly she smiled, wanly. I was with the Fleet. Howlong will it take?     Eight days, in      that     ship.     Roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. He knew Petersonwas harboring the same thoughts. Eight days in space, in a small shipmeant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. Eight days inthat untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl andGladney.     Who was that ... man? The one you put out? Gray asked.     We call him Rat, Roberds said.     She didn't ask why. She said: Why couldn't he pilot the ship, I mean?What is his record?     Peterson opened his mouth.     Shut up, Peterson! the Chief snapped. We don't talk about his recordaround here, Miss Gray. It's not a pretty thing to tell.     Stow it, Chief, said Peterson. Miss Gray is no pantywaist. Heturned to the nurse. Ever hear of the Sansan massacre?     Patti Gray paled. Yes, she whispered. Was Rat in that?     Roberds shook his head. He didn't take part in it. But Rat wasattached to a very important office at the time, the outpost watch.And when Mad Barry Sansan and his gang of thugs swooped down on theGanymedean colony, there was no warning. Our friend Rat was AWOL.     As to who he is ... well, just one of those freaks from up aroundCentauria somewhere. He's been hanging around all the fields and dumpson Mars a long time, finally landed up here.     But, protested Miss Gray, I don't understand? I always thought thatleaving one's post under such circumstances meant execution.     The Chief Consul nodded. It does, usually. But this was a freak case.It would take hours to explain. However, I'll just sum it up in oneword: politics. Politics, with which Rat had no connection saved him.     The girl shook her head, more in sympathy than condemnation.     Are you expecting the others in soon? she asked. It wouldn't beright to leave Peterson.     They will be in, in a day or two. Peterson will beat it over to Basestation for repairs, and to notify Earth we're coming. He'll be allright.     Abruptly she stood up. Goodnight gentlemen. Call me if I'm needed.     Roberds nodded acknowledgement. The door to the side room closed behindher. Peterson hauled his chair over to the desk. He sniffed the air.     Damned rat! he whispered harshly. They ought to make a law forcinghim to wear dark glasses!     Roberds smiled wearily. His eyes do get a man, don't they?     I'd like to burn 'em out! Peterson snarled.  <doc-sep>The girl did not answer then and a hushed expectancy fell over theship. Somewhere aft a small motor was running. Wind whistled past theopen lock.     I've caused plenty of trouble haven't I? she asked aloud, finally.This was certainly a fool stunt, and I'm guilty of a lot of foolstunts! I just didn't realize until now the      why     of that law.     Don't talk so much, the nurse admonished. A lot of people have foundout the      why     of that law the hard way, just as you are doing, andlived to remember it. Until hospitals are built on this forlorn world,humans like you who haven't been properly conditioned will have to stayright at home.     How about these men that live and work here?     They never get here until they've been through the mill first.Adenoids, appendix', all the extra parts they can get along without.     Well, Judith said. I've certainly learned my lesson!     Gray didn't answer, but from out of the darkness surrounding her came asound remarkably resembling a snort.     Gray? Judith asked fearfully.     Yes?     Hasn't the pilot been gone an awfully long time?     Rat himself provided the answer by alighting at the lip with a jar thatshook the ship. He was breathing heavily and lugging something in hisarms. The burden groaned.     Gladney! Nurse Gray exclaimed.     I got. Rat confirmed. Yes, Gladney. Damn heavy, Gladney.     But how? she demanded. What of Roberds and Peterson?     Trick, he sniggered. I burn down my shack. Boss run out. I run in.Very simple. He packed Gladney into the remaining hammock and snappedbuckles.     And Peterson? she prompted.     Oh yes. Peterson. So sorry about Peterson. Had to fan him.           Fan     him? I don't understand.     Fan. With chair. Everything all right. I apologized. Rat finished upand was walking back to the lock. They heard a slight rustling of wingsas he padded away.     He was back instantly, duplicating his feat of a short time ago.Cursing shouts were slung on the night air, and the deadly spang ofbullets bounced on the hull! Some entered the lock. The Centauriansnapped it shut. Chunks of lead continued to pound the ship. Rat leapedfor the pilot's chair, heavily, a wing drooping.     You've been hurt! Gray cried. A small panel light outlined hisfeatures. She tried to struggle up.     Lie still! We go. Boss get wise. With lightning fingers he flickedseveral switches on the panel, turned to her. Hold belly. Zoom!     Gray folded her hands across her stomach and closed her eyes.     Rat unlocked the master level and shoved!  <doc-sep>Rat helped Greaseball fill the water tanks to capacity with fuel,checked the concentrated rations and grunted.     Greaseball looked over the interior and chuckled. The boss said stripher, and strip her I did. All right, Rat, outside. He followed theCentaurian out, and pulled the ladder away from the lip of the lock.The two walked across the strip of sandy soil to the office building.On tiptoes, Greaseball poked his head through the door panel. All set.     Roberds nodded at him. Stick with it! and jerked a thumb at Ratoutside. Grease nodded understanding.     Okay, Rat, you can go to bed now. He dropped the ladder against thewall and sat on it. Good night. He watched Rat walk slowly away.     Swinging down the path towards his own rambling shack, Rat caught asibilant whisper. Pausing, undecided, he heard it again.     Here ... can you see me? A white clad arm waved in the gloom. Ratregarded the arm in the window. Another impatient gesture, and hestepped to the sill.     Yes?—in the softest of whispers. The voices of the men in droningconversation drifted in. What you want?     Nothing but silence for a few hanging seconds, and then: Can you pilotthat ship? Her voice was shaky.     He didn't answer, stared at her confused. He felt her fear as clearlyas he detected it in her words.     Well,      can     you? she demanded.     Damn yes! he stated simply. It now necessary?     Very! She is becoming worse. I'm afraid to wait until daylight.And ... well, we want      you     to pilot it! She refuses to riskMr. Roberds' job. She favors you.     Rat stepped back, astonished. She?     Nurse Gray moved from the window and Rat saw the second form in theroom, a slight, quiet figure on a small cot. My patient, Nurse Grayexplained. She overheard our conversation awhile ago. Quick, please,can you?     Rat looked at her and then at the girl on the cot. He vanished from thewindow. Almost immediately, he was back again.     When? he whispered.     As soon as possible. Yes. Do you know...? but he had gone again.Nurse Gray found herself addressing blackness. On the point of turning,she saw him back again.     Blankets, he instructed. Wrap in blankets. Cold—hot too. Wrapgood! And he was gone again. Gray blinked away the illusion hedisappeared upwards.     She ran over to the girl. Judith, if you want to back down, now is thetime. He'll be back in a moment.     No! Judith moaned. No! Gray smiled in the darkness and beganwrapping the blankets around her. A light tapping at the windowannounced the return of Rat. The nurse pushed open the window wide, sawhim out there with arms upstretched.     Grit your teeth and hold on! Here we go. She picked up the blanketedgirl in both arms and walked to the window. Rat took the girl easily asshe was swung out, the blackness hid them both. But he appeared againinstantly.     Better lock window, he cautioned. Stall, if Boss call. Backsoon.... and he was gone.     To Nurse Gray the fifteen minute wait seemed like hours, impatientagonizing hours of tight-lipped anxiety.  <doc-sep>They did get thirsty, soon. A damnable hot thirst accented bythe knowledge that water was precious, a thirst increased by adried-up-in-the-mouth sensation. Their first drink was strangelybitter; tragically disappointing. Patti Gray suddenly swung upright inthe hammock and kicked her legs. She massaged her throat with a nervoushand, wiped damp hair from about her face.     I have to have a drink.     Rat stared at her without answer.     I said, I have to have a drink!     Heard you.     Well...?     Well, nothing. Stall. Keep water longer.     She swung a vicious boot and missed by inches. Rat grinned, and madehis way aft, hand over hand. He treaded cautiously along the deck. Dolike this, he called over his shoulder. Gravity punk too. Back andunder, gravity. He waited until she joined him at the water tap.     They stood there glaring idiotically at each other.     She burst out laughing. They even threw the drinking cups out! Ratinched the handle grudgingly and she applied lips to the faucet.     Faugh! Gray sprang back, forgot herself and lost her balance, satdown on the deck and spat out the water. It's hot! It tastes like helland it's hot! It must be fuel!     Rat applied his lips to the tap and sampled. Coming up with a mouthfulhe swished it around on his tongue like mouthwash. Abruptly hecontrived a facial contortion between a grin and a grimace, and letsome of the water trickle from the edges of his mouth. He swallowed andit cost him something.     No. I mean yes, I think. Water, no doubt. Yes. Fuel out, water in.Swish-swush. Dammit, Greaseball forget to wash tank!     But what makes it so hot? She worked her mouth to dry-rinse the tasteof the fuel.     Ship get hot. Water on sun side. H-m-m-m-m-m-m.     H-m-m-m-m-m-m-m what?     Flip-flop. He could talk with his hands as well. Hot side over likepancake. Rat hobbled over to the board and sat down. An experimentalflick on a lever produced nothing. Another flick, this time followed bya quivering jar. He contemplated the panel board while fastening hisbelt.     H-m-m-m-m-m-m, the lower lip protruded.     Gray protested. Oh, stop humming and do something! That wa— theword was queerly torn from her throat, and a scream magically filledthe vacancy. Nurse Gray sat up and rubbed a painful spot that hadsuddenly appeared on her arm. She found her nose bleeding and anothernew, swelling bruise on the side of her head. Around her the place wasempty. Bare.     No, not quite. A wispy something was hanging just out of sight inthe corner of the eye; the water tap was now moulded      upward     , beadsglistening on its handle. The wispy thing caught her attention againand she looked up.     Two people, tightly wrapped and bound in hammocks, were staring down ather, amazed, swinging on their stomachs. Craning further, she saw Rat.He was hanging upside down in the chair, grinning at her in reverse.     Flip-flop, he laconically explained.     For cripes sakes, Jehosaphat! Gladney groaned. Turn me over on myback! Do something! Gray stood on tiptoes and just could pivot thehammocks on their rope-axis.     And now, please, just      how     do I get into mine? she bit at Rat.  <doc-sep>   PRISON PLANET     By BOB TUCKER     To remain on Mars meant death from agonizing     space-sickness, but Earth-surgery lay     days of flight away. And there was only     a surface rocket in which to escape—with     a traitorous Ganymedean for its pilot.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1942.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Listen, Rat! Roberds said, what      I     say goes around here. It doesn'thappen to be any of your business. I'm still in possession of my wits,and I know Peterson can't handle that ship. Furthermore Gladney willbe in it too, right along side of that sick girl in there! And Rat,get this:      I'm     going to pilot that ship. Understand? Consulate orno Consulate, job or no job, I'm wheeling that crate to Earth becausethis is an emergency. And the emergency happens to be bigger than myposition, to me at any rate. His tone dropped to a deadly softness.Now will you kindly remove your stinking carcass from this office?     Unheeding, Rat swung his eyes around in the gloom and discovered thewoman, a nurse in uniform. He blinked at her and she returned the look,wavering. She bit her lip and determination flowed back. She met thestare of his boring, off-colored eyes. Rat grinned suddenly. Nurse Grayalmost smiled back, stopped before the others could see it.     Won't go! The Centaurian resumed his fight. You not go, lose job,black-listed. Never get another. Look at me. I know. He retreateda precious step to escape a rolled up fist. Little ship carry fournice. Rip out lockers and bunks. Swing hammocks. Put fuel in watertanks. Live on concentrates. Earth hospital fix bellyache afterwards,allright. I pilot ship. Yes?     No! Roberds screamed.     Almost in answer, a moan issued from a small side room. The men in theoffice froze as Nurse Gray ran across the room. She disappeared throughthe narrow door.     Peterson, the field manager ordered, come over here and help methrow this rat out.... He went for Rat. Peterson swung up out of hischair with balled fist. The outlander backed rapidly.     No need, no need, no need! he said quickly. I go. Still backing, heblindly kicked at the door and stepped into the night.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the connection between Judith and Patti Gray in the story PRISON PLANET?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What kind of connection exists between Rat and Patti Gray in the story PRISON PLANET? [SEP] <s>Gladney unexpectedly exploded. He had been awake for a long time,watching Rat at the board. Wrenching loose a chest strap he attemptedto sit up.     Rat! Damn you Rat, listen to me!      When're you going to start braking     ,Rat?     I hear you. He turned on Gladney with dulled eyes. Lie down. Yousick.     I'll be damned if I'm going to lie here and let you drive us to Orion!We must be near the half-way line! When are you going to start braking?     Not brake, Rat answered sullenly. No, not brake.           Not brake?      Gladney screamed and sat bolt upright. Nurse Gray jumpedfor him. Are you crazy, you skinny rat? Gray secured a hold on hisshoulders and forced him down. You gotta brake! Don't you understandthat? You have to, you vacuum-skull! Gray was pleading with him toshut-up like a good fellow. He appealed to her. He's gotta brake! Makehim!     He has a good point there, Rat, she spoke up. What about thishalf-way line?     He turned to her with a weary ghost of the old smile on his face. Wepassed line. Three days ago, maybe. A shrug of shoulders.     Passed! Gray and Gladney exclaimed in unison.     You catch on quick, Rat nodded. This six day, don't you know?     Gladney sank back, exhausted. The nurse crept over to the pilot.Getting your figures mixed, aren't you?     Rat shook his head and said nothing.     But Roberds said eight days, and he—     —he on Mars. I here. Boss nuts, too sad. He drive, it be eight days.Now only six. He cast a glance at Judith and found her eyes closed.Six days, no brake. No.     I see your point, and appreciate it, Gray cut in. But now what? Thisdeceleration business ... there is a whole lot I don't know, but somethings I do!     Rat refused the expected answer. Land tonight, I think. Never been toEarth before. Somebody meet us, I think.     You can bet your leather boots somebody will meet us! Gladney cried.Gray turned to him. The Chief'll have the whole planet waiting for      you     ! He laughed with real satisfaction. Oh yes, Rat, they'll besomebody waiting for us all right. And then he added: If we land.     Oh, we land. Rat confided, glad to share a secret.     Yeah, Gladney grated. But in how many little pieces?     I've never been to Earth before. Nice, I think. Patti Gray caughtsomething new in the tone and stared at him. Gladney must have noticedit, too.     The Centaurian moved sideways and pointed. Gray placed her eyes in thevacated position.     Earth! she shouted.     Quite. Nice. Do me a favor?     Just name it!     Not drink long time. Some water?     Gray nodded and went to the faucet. The drumming seemed remote, thetension vanished. She was an uncommonly long time in returning, at lastshe appeared beside him, outstretched hands dry.     There isn't any left, Rat.     Rat batted his tired eyes expressively. Tasted punk, he grinned ather.     She sat down on the floor suddenly and buried her face.     Rat, she said presently, I want to ask you something, ratherpersonal? Your ... name. 'Rat'? Roberds told me something about yourrecord. But ... please tell me, Rat. You didn't know the attack wascoming, did you?     He grinned again and waggled his head at her. No. Who tell Rat?Suddenly he was deadly serious as he spoke to her. Rat a.w.o.l., goout to help sick man alone in desert. Rat leave post. Not time sendcall through. Come back with man, find horrible thing happen.     But why didn't you explain?     He grinned again. Who believe? Sick man die soon after.     Gladney sat up. He had heard the conversation between the two. You'reright, Rat. No one would have believed you then, and no one will now.You've been safe enough on Mars, but the police will nab you as soon asyou get out of the ship.     They can't! cried Patti Gray. They can't hurt him after what he'sdone now.     The Centaurian grinned in a cynical way.     Police not get me, Gladney. Gladney's memory damn punk, I think. Earthpretty nice place, maybe. But not for Rat.     Gladney stared at him for minutes. Then: Say, I get it ... you're—     Shut up! Rat cut him off sharply. You talk too much. He cast aglance at Nurse Gray and then threw a meaning look at Gladney.  <doc-sep>When the door slammed shut Roberds locked it. Peterson slumped in thechair.     Do you mean that, Chief? About taking the ship yourself?     True enough. Roberds cast an anxious glance at the partly closeddoor, lowered his voice. It'll cost me my job, but that girl in therehas to be taken to a hospital quickly! And it's her luck to be landedon a planet that doesn't boast even one! So it's Earth ... or shedies. I'd feel a lot better too if we could get Gladney to a hospital,I'm not too confident of that patching job. He pulled a pipe from ajacket pocket. So, might as well kill two birds with one stone ... andthat wasn't meant to be funny!     Peterson said nothing, sat watching the door.     Rat has the right idea, Roberds continued, but I had already thoughtof it. About the bunks and lockers. Greaseball has been out there allnight tearing them out. We just      might     be able to hop by dawn ... andhell of a long, grinding hop it will be!     The nurse came out of the door.     How is she? Roberds asked.     Sleeping, Gray whispered. But sinking....     We can take off at dawn, I think. He filled the pipe and didn't lookat her. You'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock.     I can take it. Suddenly she smiled, wanly. I was with the Fleet. Howlong will it take?     Eight days, in      that     ship.     Roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. He knew Petersonwas harboring the same thoughts. Eight days in space, in a small shipmeant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. Eight days inthat untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl andGladney.     Who was that ... man? The one you put out? Gray asked.     We call him Rat, Roberds said.     She didn't ask why. She said: Why couldn't he pilot the ship, I mean?What is his record?     Peterson opened his mouth.     Shut up, Peterson! the Chief snapped. We don't talk about his recordaround here, Miss Gray. It's not a pretty thing to tell.     Stow it, Chief, said Peterson. Miss Gray is no pantywaist. Heturned to the nurse. Ever hear of the Sansan massacre?     Patti Gray paled. Yes, she whispered. Was Rat in that?     Roberds shook his head. He didn't take part in it. But Rat wasattached to a very important office at the time, the outpost watch.And when Mad Barry Sansan and his gang of thugs swooped down on theGanymedean colony, there was no warning. Our friend Rat was AWOL.     As to who he is ... well, just one of those freaks from up aroundCentauria somewhere. He's been hanging around all the fields and dumpson Mars a long time, finally landed up here.     But, protested Miss Gray, I don't understand? I always thought thatleaving one's post under such circumstances meant execution.     The Chief Consul nodded. It does, usually. But this was a freak case.It would take hours to explain. However, I'll just sum it up in oneword: politics. Politics, with which Rat had no connection saved him.     The girl shook her head, more in sympathy than condemnation.     Are you expecting the others in soon? she asked. It wouldn't beright to leave Peterson.     They will be in, in a day or two. Peterson will beat it over to Basestation for repairs, and to notify Earth we're coming. He'll be allright.     Abruptly she stood up. Goodnight gentlemen. Call me if I'm needed.     Roberds nodded acknowledgement. The door to the side room closed behindher. Peterson hauled his chair over to the desk. He sniffed the air.     Damned rat! he whispered harshly. They ought to make a law forcinghim to wear dark glasses!     Roberds smiled wearily. His eyes do get a man, don't they?     I'd like to burn 'em out! Peterson snarled.  <doc-sep>Whew! Nurse Gray came back to throbbing awareness, the all toofamiliar feeling of a misplaced stomach attempting to force itscrowded way into her boots plaguing her. Rockets roared in the rear.She loosened a few straps and twisted over. Judith was still out, herface tensed in pain. Gray bit her lip and twisted the other way. TheCentaurian was grinning at her.     Do you always leave in a hurry? she demanded, and instantly wishedshe hadn't said it. He gave no outward sign.     Long-time sleep, he announced. Four, five hours maybe. The cheststrap was lying loose at his side.     That long! she was incredulous. I'm never out more than threehours! Unloosening more straps, she sat up, glanced at the controlpanel.     Not taking time, he stated simply and pointed to a dial. Gray shookher head and looked at the others.     That isn't doing either of them any good!     Rat nodded unhappily. What's her matter—? pointing.     Appendix. Something about this atmosphere sends it haywire. The thingitself isn't diseased, but it starts manufacturing poison. Patient diesin a week unless it is taken out.     Don't know it, he said briefly.     Do you mean to say you don't have an appendix? she demanded.     Rat folded his arms and considered this. Don't know. Maybe yes, maybeno. Where's it hurt?     Gray pointed out the location. The Centaurian considered this furtherand drifted into long contemplation. Watching him, Gray remembered hiseyes that night ... only      last     night ... in the office. Peterson hadrefused to meet them. After awhile Rat came out of it.     No, he waved. No appendix. Never nowhere appendix.     Then Mother Nature has finally woke up! she exclaimed. But why doCentaurians rate it exclusively?     Rat ignored this and asked one of her. What you and her doing upthere? He pointed back and up, to where Mars obliterated the stars.     You might call it a pleasure jaunt. She's only seventeen. We came overin a cruiser belonging to her father; it was rather large and easy tohandle. But the cruise ended when she lost control of the ship becauseof an attack of space-appendicitis. The rest you know.     So you?     So I'm a combination nurse, governess, guard and what have you. Orwill be until we get back. After this, I'll probably be looking forwork. She shivered.     Cold? he inquired concernedly.     On the contrary, I'm too warm. She started to remove the blanket. Ratthrew up a hand to stop her.     Leave on! Hot out here.     But I'm too hot now. I want to take it off!     No. Leave on. Wool blanket. Keep in body heat, yes. Keep out cold,yes. Keep in, keep out, likewise. See?     Gray stared at him. I never thought of it that way before. Why ofcourse! If it protects from one temperature, it will protect fromanother. Isn't it silly of me not to know that? Heat pressing on herface accented the fact.     What is your name? she asked. Your real one I mean.     He grinned. Big. You couldn't say it. Sound like Christmas andbottlenose together real fast. Just say Rat. Everybody does. His eyesswept the panel and flashed back to her. Your name Gray. Have a frontname?     Patti.     Pretty, Patti.     No, just Patti. Say, what's the matter with the cooling system?     Damn punk, he said. This crate for surface work. No space. Coolingsystem groan, damn punk. Won't keep cool here.     And ... she followed up, it will get warmer as we go out?     Rat turned back to his board in a brown study and carefully ignoredher. Gray grasped an inkling of what the coming week could bring.     But how about water? she demanded next. Is there enough?     He faced about. For her— nodding to Judith, and him— to Gladney,yes. Sparingly. Four hours every time, maybe. Back to Gray. You,me ... twice a day. Too bad. His eyes drifted aft to the tank ofwater. She followed. One tank water. All the rest fuel. Too bad, toobad. We get thirsty I think.  <doc-sep>Existence dragged. Paradoxically, time dropped away like a cloak asthe sense of individual hours and minutes vanished, and into its placecrept a slow-torturing substitute. As the ship revolved, monotonously,first the ceiling and then the floor took on dullish, maddeningaspects, eyes ached continuously from staring at them time and againwithout surcease. The steady, drumming rockets crashed into the mindand the walls shrieked malevolently on the eyeballs. Dull, throbbingsameness of the poorly filtered air, a growing taint in the nostrils.Damp warm skin, reeking blankets. The taste of fuel in the mouth forrefreshment. Slowly mounting mental duress. And above all the drummingof the rockets.     Once, a sudden, frightening change of pitch in the rockets and a wild,sickening lurch. Meteor rain. Maddening, plunging swings to the farright and left, made without warning. A torn lip as a sudden lurchtears the faucet from her mouth. A shattered tooth.     Sorry! Rat whispered.     Shut up and drive! she cried.     Patti ... Judith called out, in pain.     Peace of mind followed peace of body into a forgotten limbo of lostthings, a slyly climbing madness directed at one another. Waspishwords uttered in pain, fatigue and temper. Fractiousness. A hot,confined, stale hell. Sleep became a hollow mockery, as bad waterand concentrated tablets brought on stomach pains to plague them.Consciousness punctured only by spasms of lethargy, shared to someextent by the invalids. Above all, crawling lassitude and incalescenttempers.     Rat watched the white, drawn face swing in the hammock beside him. Andhis hands never faltered on the controls.     Never a slackening of the terrific pace; abnormal speed, gruellingdrive ... drive ... drive. Fear. Tantalizing fear made worse becauseRat couldn't understand. Smothered moaning that ate at his nerves.Grim-faced, sleep-wracked, belted to the chair, driving!     How many days? How many days! Gray begged of him thousands of timesuntil the very repetition grated on her eardrums. How many days?His only answer was an inhuman snarl, and the cruel blazing of thoseinhuman eyes.     She fell face first to the floor. I can't keep it up! she cried. Thesound of her voice rolled along the hot steel deck. I cant! I cant!     A double handful of tepid water was thrown in her face. Get up! Ratstood over her, face twisted, his body hunched. Get up! She stared athim, dazed. He kicked her. Get up! The tepid water ran off her faceand far away she heard Judith calling.... She forced herself up. Ratwas back in the chair.  <doc-sep>They did get thirsty, soon. A damnable hot thirst accented bythe knowledge that water was precious, a thirst increased by adried-up-in-the-mouth sensation. Their first drink was strangelybitter; tragically disappointing. Patti Gray suddenly swung upright inthe hammock and kicked her legs. She massaged her throat with a nervoushand, wiped damp hair from about her face.     I have to have a drink.     Rat stared at her without answer.     I said, I have to have a drink!     Heard you.     Well...?     Well, nothing. Stall. Keep water longer.     She swung a vicious boot and missed by inches. Rat grinned, and madehis way aft, hand over hand. He treaded cautiously along the deck. Dolike this, he called over his shoulder. Gravity punk too. Back andunder, gravity. He waited until she joined him at the water tap.     They stood there glaring idiotically at each other.     She burst out laughing. They even threw the drinking cups out! Ratinched the handle grudgingly and she applied lips to the faucet.     Faugh! Gray sprang back, forgot herself and lost her balance, satdown on the deck and spat out the water. It's hot! It tastes like helland it's hot! It must be fuel!     Rat applied his lips to the tap and sampled. Coming up with a mouthfulhe swished it around on his tongue like mouthwash. Abruptly hecontrived a facial contortion between a grin and a grimace, and letsome of the water trickle from the edges of his mouth. He swallowed andit cost him something.     No. I mean yes, I think. Water, no doubt. Yes. Fuel out, water in.Swish-swush. Dammit, Greaseball forget to wash tank!     But what makes it so hot? She worked her mouth to dry-rinse the tasteof the fuel.     Ship get hot. Water on sun side. H-m-m-m-m-m-m.     H-m-m-m-m-m-m-m what?     Flip-flop. He could talk with his hands as well. Hot side over likepancake. Rat hobbled over to the board and sat down. An experimentalflick on a lever produced nothing. Another flick, this time followed bya quivering jar. He contemplated the panel board while fastening hisbelt.     H-m-m-m-m-m-m, the lower lip protruded.     Gray protested. Oh, stop humming and do something! That wa— theword was queerly torn from her throat, and a scream magically filledthe vacancy. Nurse Gray sat up and rubbed a painful spot that hadsuddenly appeared on her arm. She found her nose bleeding and anothernew, swelling bruise on the side of her head. Around her the place wasempty. Bare.     No, not quite. A wispy something was hanging just out of sight inthe corner of the eye; the water tap was now moulded      upward     , beadsglistening on its handle. The wispy thing caught her attention againand she looked up.     Two people, tightly wrapped and bound in hammocks, were staring down ather, amazed, swinging on their stomachs. Craning further, she saw Rat.He was hanging upside down in the chair, grinning at her in reverse.     Flip-flop, he laconically explained.     For cripes sakes, Jehosaphat! Gladney groaned. Turn me over on myback! Do something! Gray stood on tiptoes and just could pivot thehammocks on their rope-axis.     And now, please, just      how     do I get into mine? she bit at Rat.  <doc-sep>   PRISON PLANET     By BOB TUCKER     To remain on Mars meant death from agonizing     space-sickness, but Earth-surgery lay     days of flight away. And there was only     a surface rocket in which to escape—with     a traitorous Ganymedean for its pilot.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1942.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Listen, Rat! Roberds said, what      I     say goes around here. It doesn'thappen to be any of your business. I'm still in possession of my wits,and I know Peterson can't handle that ship. Furthermore Gladney willbe in it too, right along side of that sick girl in there! And Rat,get this:      I'm     going to pilot that ship. Understand? Consulate orno Consulate, job or no job, I'm wheeling that crate to Earth becausethis is an emergency. And the emergency happens to be bigger than myposition, to me at any rate. His tone dropped to a deadly softness.Now will you kindly remove your stinking carcass from this office?     Unheeding, Rat swung his eyes around in the gloom and discovered thewoman, a nurse in uniform. He blinked at her and she returned the look,wavering. She bit her lip and determination flowed back. She met thestare of his boring, off-colored eyes. Rat grinned suddenly. Nurse Grayalmost smiled back, stopped before the others could see it.     Won't go! The Centaurian resumed his fight. You not go, lose job,black-listed. Never get another. Look at me. I know. He retreateda precious step to escape a rolled up fist. Little ship carry fournice. Rip out lockers and bunks. Swing hammocks. Put fuel in watertanks. Live on concentrates. Earth hospital fix bellyache afterwards,allright. I pilot ship. Yes?     No! Roberds screamed.     Almost in answer, a moan issued from a small side room. The men in theoffice froze as Nurse Gray ran across the room. She disappeared throughthe narrow door.     Peterson, the field manager ordered, come over here and help methrow this rat out.... He went for Rat. Peterson swung up out of hischair with balled fist. The outlander backed rapidly.     No need, no need, no need! he said quickly. I go. Still backing, heblindly kicked at the door and stepped into the night.  <doc-sep>Rat helped Greaseball fill the water tanks to capacity with fuel,checked the concentrated rations and grunted.     Greaseball looked over the interior and chuckled. The boss said stripher, and strip her I did. All right, Rat, outside. He followed theCentaurian out, and pulled the ladder away from the lip of the lock.The two walked across the strip of sandy soil to the office building.On tiptoes, Greaseball poked his head through the door panel. All set.     Roberds nodded at him. Stick with it! and jerked a thumb at Ratoutside. Grease nodded understanding.     Okay, Rat, you can go to bed now. He dropped the ladder against thewall and sat on it. Good night. He watched Rat walk slowly away.     Swinging down the path towards his own rambling shack, Rat caught asibilant whisper. Pausing, undecided, he heard it again.     Here ... can you see me? A white clad arm waved in the gloom. Ratregarded the arm in the window. Another impatient gesture, and hestepped to the sill.     Yes?—in the softest of whispers. The voices of the men in droningconversation drifted in. What you want?     Nothing but silence for a few hanging seconds, and then: Can you pilotthat ship? Her voice was shaky.     He didn't answer, stared at her confused. He felt her fear as clearlyas he detected it in her words.     Well,      can     you? she demanded.     Damn yes! he stated simply. It now necessary?     Very! She is becoming worse. I'm afraid to wait until daylight.And ... well, we want      you     to pilot it! She refuses to riskMr. Roberds' job. She favors you.     Rat stepped back, astonished. She?     Nurse Gray moved from the window and Rat saw the second form in theroom, a slight, quiet figure on a small cot. My patient, Nurse Grayexplained. She overheard our conversation awhile ago. Quick, please,can you?     Rat looked at her and then at the girl on the cot. He vanished from thewindow. Almost immediately, he was back again.     When? he whispered.     As soon as possible. Yes. Do you know...? but he had gone again.Nurse Gray found herself addressing blackness. On the point of turning,she saw him back again.     Blankets, he instructed. Wrap in blankets. Cold—hot too. Wrapgood! And he was gone again. Gray blinked away the illusion hedisappeared upwards.     She ran over to the girl. Judith, if you want to back down, now is thetime. He'll be back in a moment.     No! Judith moaned. No! Gray smiled in the darkness and beganwrapping the blankets around her. A light tapping at the windowannounced the return of Rat. The nurse pushed open the window wide, sawhim out there with arms upstretched.     Grit your teeth and hold on! Here we go. She picked up the blanketedgirl in both arms and walked to the window. Rat took the girl easily asshe was swung out, the blackness hid them both. But he appeared againinstantly.     Better lock window, he cautioned. Stall, if Boss call. Backsoon.... and he was gone.     To Nurse Gray the fifteen minute wait seemed like hours, impatientagonizing hours of tight-lipped anxiety.  <doc-sep>The girl did not answer then and a hushed expectancy fell over theship. Somewhere aft a small motor was running. Wind whistled past theopen lock.     I've caused plenty of trouble haven't I? she asked aloud, finally.This was certainly a fool stunt, and I'm guilty of a lot of foolstunts! I just didn't realize until now the      why     of that law.     Don't talk so much, the nurse admonished. A lot of people have foundout the      why     of that law the hard way, just as you are doing, andlived to remember it. Until hospitals are built on this forlorn world,humans like you who haven't been properly conditioned will have to stayright at home.     How about these men that live and work here?     They never get here until they've been through the mill first.Adenoids, appendix', all the extra parts they can get along without.     Well, Judith said. I've certainly learned my lesson!     Gray didn't answer, but from out of the darkness surrounding her came asound remarkably resembling a snort.     Gray? Judith asked fearfully.     Yes?     Hasn't the pilot been gone an awfully long time?     Rat himself provided the answer by alighting at the lip with a jar thatshook the ship. He was breathing heavily and lugging something in hisarms. The burden groaned.     Gladney! Nurse Gray exclaimed.     I got. Rat confirmed. Yes, Gladney. Damn heavy, Gladney.     But how? she demanded. What of Roberds and Peterson?     Trick, he sniggered. I burn down my shack. Boss run out. I run in.Very simple. He packed Gladney into the remaining hammock and snappedbuckles.     And Peterson? she prompted.     Oh yes. Peterson. So sorry about Peterson. Had to fan him.           Fan     him? I don't understand.     Fan. With chair. Everything all right. I apologized. Rat finished upand was walking back to the lock. They heard a slight rustling of wingsas he padded away.     He was back instantly, duplicating his feat of a short time ago.Cursing shouts were slung on the night air, and the deadly spang ofbullets bounced on the hull! Some entered the lock. The Centauriansnapped it shut. Chunks of lead continued to pound the ship. Rat leapedfor the pilot's chair, heavily, a wing drooping.     You've been hurt! Gray cried. A small panel light outlined hisfeatures. She tried to struggle up.     Lie still! We go. Boss get wise. With lightning fingers he flickedseveral switches on the panel, turned to her. Hold belly. Zoom!     Gray folded her hands across her stomach and closed her eyes.     Rat unlocked the master level and shoved!  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What kind of connection exists between Rat and Patti Gray in the story PRISON PLANET?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What significance does the shipwreck of Judith's father hold in the story of PRISON PLANET? [SEP] <s>Feet first, she swung through the window, clutching a small bag in herhands. She never touched ground. Rat whispered Hold tight! in herear and the wind was abruptly yanked from her! The ground fell awayin a dizzy rush, unseen but felt, in the night! Her feet scraped onsome projection, and she felt herself being lifted still higher. Windreturned to her throat, and she breathed again.     I'm sorry, she managed to get out, gaspingly. I wasn't expectingthat. I had forgotten you—     —had wings, he finished and chuckled. So likewise Greaseball. Thepale office lights dropped away as they sped over the field. On the farhorizon, a tinge of dawn crept along the uneven terrain.     Oh, the bag! she gasped. I've dropped it.     He chuckled again. Have got. You scare, I catch.     She didn't see the ship because of the wind in her eyes, but withoutwarning she plummeted down and her feet jarred on the lip of the lock.Inside. No noise, no light. Easy. But in spite of his warning shetripped in the darkness. He helped her from the floor and guided her tothe hammocks.     Judith? she asked.     Here. Beside you, trussed up so tight I can hardly breathe.     No talk! Rat insisted. Much hush-hush needed. Other girl shipshape.You make likewise. Forcibly he shoved her into a hammock. Wrap uptight. Straps tight. When we go, we go fast. Bang! And he left her.     Hey! Where are you going now?     To get Gladney. He sick too. Hush hush! His voice floated back.     Where has he gone? Judith called.     Back for another man. Remember the two miners who found us when wecrashed? The burly one fell off a rock-bank as they were bringing usin. Stove in his ribs pretty badly. The other has a broken arm ...happened once while you were out. They wouldn't let me say anything forfear of worrying you.  <doc-sep>Her heart was beating faster as she walked down the hall. She felt avery strong probe flooding over her brain casually, palping with mildinterest the artificial memories she supplied: Escapades with officersin the combat areas. Reprimands. Demotion and transfer. Her deceptionof Gorph. Her anticipation of meeting a real Viscount and hoping hewould let her dance for him.     The questing probe withdrew as idly as it had come, and she breatheda sigh of relief. She could not hope to deceive a suspicious telepathfor long. Perat was merely amused at her lie to his under-supervisor.He had accepted her at her own face value, as supplied by her falsememories.     She opened the door to the balcony and saw a man leaning moodily on thebalustrade. He gave no immediate notice of her presence.     The five hundred and sixth heir of Tharn was of uncertain age, as weremost of the men of both globes. Only the left side of his face could beseen. It was gaunt and leathery, and a deep thin scar lifted the cornerof his mouth into a satanic smile. A faint paunch was gathering at hisabdomen, as befitted a warrior turned to boring paper work. His closelycut black hair and the two sparkling red-gemmed rings—apparentlyidentical—on his right hand seemed to denote a certain fastidiousnessand unconscious superiority. To Evelyn the jeweled fingers bespoke anunnatural contrast to the past history of the man and were symptomaticof a personality that could find stimulation only in strange and cruelpleasures.     In alarm she suddenly realized that she had inadvertently let herappraisal penetrate her uncovered conscious mind, and that this probewas there awaiting it.     You are right, he said coldly, still staring into the court below.Now that the long battle is over, there is little left to divert me.     He pushed the Faeg across the coping toward her. Take this.     He had not as yet looked at her.     She crossed the balcony, simultaneously grasping the pistol he offeredher and looking down into the courtyard. There seemed to be nearlytwenty Terrans lying about, in pools of their own blood.     Only one man, a Terran officer of very high rank—was left standing.His arms were folded somberly across his chest, and he studied thekiller above him almost casually. But when the woman came out, theireyes met, and he started imperceptibly.     Evelyn Kane felt a horrid chill creeping over her. The man's hair waswhite, now, and his proud face lined with deep furrows, but there couldbe no mistake. It was Gordon, Lord Kane.     Her father.     The sweat continued to grow on her forehead, and she felt for a momentthat she needed only to wish hard enough, and this would be a dream.A dream of a big, kind, dark-haired man with laugh-wrinkles about hiseyes, who sat her on his knee when she was a little girl and readbedtime stories to her from a great book with many pictures.     An icy, amused voice came through: Our orders are to kill allprisoners. It is entertaining to shoot down helpless men, isn't it? Itwarms me to know that I am cruel and wanton, and worthy of my trust.     Even in the midst of her horror, a cold, analytical part of her wasexplaining why the Commandant had called her to the balcony. Becauseall captured Terrans had to be killed, he hated his superiors, his ownmen, and especially the prisoners. A task so revolting he could notrelegate to his own officers. He must do it himself, but he wanted hisunderlings to know he loathed them for it. She was merely a symbol ofthat contempt. His next words did not surprise her.     It is even more stimulating to require a shuddering female to killthem. You are shuddering you know?     She nodded dumbly. Her palm was so wet that a drop of sweat droppedfrom it to the floor. She was thinking hard. She could kill theCommandant and save her father for a little while. But then theproblem of detonating the pile remained, and it would not be solvedmore quickly by killing the man who controlled the pile area. On thecontrary if she could get him interested in her—     So far as our records indicate, murmured Perat, the man down thereis the last living Terran within      The Defender     . It occurred to me thatour newest clerk would like to start off her duties with a bang. TheFaeg is adjusted to a needle-beam. If you put a bolt between the man'seyes, you may dance for me tonight, and perhaps there will be othernights—     The woman seemed lost in thought for a long time. Slowly, she liftedthe ugly little weapon. The doomed Terran looked up at her peacefully,without expression. She lowered the Faeg, her arm trembling.     Gordon, Lord Kane, frowned faintly, then closed his eyes. She raisedthe gun again, drew cross hairs with a nerveless wrist, and squeezedthe trigger. There was a loud, hollow cough, but no recoil. The Terranofficer, his eyes still closed and arms folded, sank to the ground,face up. Blood was running from a tiny hole in his forehead.     The man leaning on the balustrade turned and looked at Evelyn, at firstwith amused contempt, then with narrowing, questioning eyes.     Come here, he ordered.     The Faeg dropped from her hand. With a titanic effort she activated herlegs and walked toward him.     He was studying her face very carefully.     She felt that she was going to be sick. Her knees were so weak that shehad to lean on the coping.     With a forefinger he lifted up the mass of golden curls that hungover her right forehead and examined the scar hidden there, where thementors had cut into her frontal lobe. The tiny doll they had createdfor her writhed uneasily in her waist-purse, but Perat seemed to bethinking of something else, and missed the significance of the scarcompletely.     He dropped his hand. I'm sorry, he said with a quiet weariness. Ishouldn't have asked you to kill the Terran. It was a sorry joke.Then: Have you ever seen me before?     No, she whispered hoarsely. His mind was in hers, verifying the fact.     Have you ever met my father, Phaen, the old Count of Tharn?     No.     Do you have a son?     No.     His mind was out of hers again, and he had turned moodily back,surveying the courtyard and the dead. Gorph will be wondering whathappened to you. Come to my quarters at the eighth metron tonight.     Apparently he suspected nothing.       Father. Father. I had to do it. But we'll all join you, soon. Soon.        III     Perat lay on his couch, sipping cold purple      terif     and following thethinly-clad dancer with narrowed eyes. Music, soft and subtle, floatedfrom his communications box, illegally tuned to an officer's clubsomewhere. Evelyn made the rhythm part of her as she swayed slowly ontiptoe.     For the last thirty nights—the hours allotted to rest and sleep—ithad been thus. By day she probed furtively into the minds of theoffice staff, memorizing area designations, channels for officialmessages, and the names and authorizations of occupational field crews.By night she danced for Perat, who never took his eyes from her, norhis probe from her mind. While she danced it was not too difficult toelude the probe. There was an odd autohypnosis in dancing that blottedout memory and knowledge.     Enough for now, he ordered. Careful of your rib.     When he had first seen the bandages on her bare chest, that firstnight, she had been ready with a memory of dancing on a freshly waxedfloor, and of falling.     Perat seemed to be debating with himself as she sat down on her owncouch to rest. He got up, unlocked his desk, and drew out a tiny reelof metal wire, which Evelyn recognized as being feed for an amateurstereop projector. He placed the reel in a projector that had beeninstalled in the wall, flicked off the table luminar, and both of themwaited in the dark, breathing rather loudly.     Suddenly the center of the room was bright with a ball of light sometwo feet in diameter, and inside the luminous sphere were an old man, awoman, and a little boy of about four years. They were walking througha luxurious garden, and then they stopped, looked up, and waved gaily.     Evelyn studied the trio with growing wonder. The old man and the boywere complete strangers.      But the woman—!       That is Phaen, my father, said Perat quietly. He stayed at homebecause he hated war. And that is a path in our country estate onTharn-R-VII. The little boy I fail to recognize, beyond a generalresemblance to the Tharn line.     But—      can you deny that you are the woman     ?     The stereop snapped off, and she sat wordless in the dark.     There seemed to be some similarity— she admitted. Her throat wassuddenly dry. Yet, why should she be alarmed? She really didn't knowthe woman.     The table luminar was on now, and Perat was prowling hungrily about theroom, his scar twisting his otherwise handsome face into a snarlingscowl.     Similarity! Bah! That loop of hair over her right forehead hid a scaridentical to yours. I have had the individual frames analyzed!     Evelyn's hands knotted unconsciously. She forced her body to relax, buther mind was racing. This introduced another variable to be controlledin her plan for destruction. She      must     make it a known quantity.     Did your father send it to you? she asked.     The day before you arrived here. It had been en route for months, ofcourse.     What did he say about it?     He said, 'Your widow and son send greetings. Be of good cheer, andaccept our love.' What nonsense! He knows very well I'm not married andthat—well, if I have ever fathered any children, I don't know aboutthem.     Is that all he said?     That's all, except that he included this ring. He pulled one of theduplicate jewels from his right middle finger and tossed it to her.It's identical to the one he had made for me when I entered on mymajority. For a long time it was thought that it was the only stone ofits kind on all the planets of the Tharn suns, a mineralogical freak,but I guess he found another. But why should I want two of them?     Evelyn crossed the room and returned the ring.     Existence is so full of mysteries, isn't it? murmured Perat.Sometimes it seems unfortunate that we must pass through a sentientphase on our way to death. This foolish, foolish war. Maybe the oldcount was right.     You could be courtmartialed for that.     Speaking of courtmartials, I've got to attend one tonight—an appealfrom a death sentence. He arose, smoothed his hair and clothes, andpoured another glass of      terif     . Some fool inquisitor can't showproper disposition of a woman prisoner.     Evelyn's heart skipped a beat. Indeed?     The wretch insists that he could remember if we would just let himalone. I suppose he took a bribe. You'll find one now and then whotries for a little extra profit.     She must absolutely not be seen by the condemned inquisitor. Thestimulus would almost certainly make him remember.     I'll wait for you, she said indifferently, thrusting her arms out ina languorous yawn.     Very well. Perat stepped to the door, then turned and looked back ather. On the other hand, I may need a clerk. It's way after hours, andthe others have gone.     Beneath a gesture of wry protest, she swallowed rapidly.     Perhaps you'd better come, insisted Perat.     She stood up, unloosed her waist-purse, checked its contents swiftly,and then followed him out.     This might be a very close thing. From the purse she took a bottle ofperfume and rubbed her ear lobes casually.     Odd smell, commented Perat, wrinkling his nose.     Odd scent, corrected Evelyn cryptically. She was thinking aboutthe earnest faces of the mentors as they instructed her carefully inthe use of the perfume. The adrenalin glands, they had explained,provided a useful and powerful stimulant to a man in danger. Adrenalinslowed the heart and digestion, increased the systole and bloodpressure, and increased perspiration to cool the skin. But therecould be too much of a good thing. An overdose of adrenalin, they hadpointed out, caused almost immediate edema. The lungs filled rapidlywith the serum and the victim ... drowned. The perfume she possessedover-stimulated, in some unknown way, the adrenals of frightenedpersons. It had no effect on inactive adrenals.     The question remained—who would be the more frightened, she or thecondemned inquisitor?     She was perspiring freely, and the blonde hair on her arms and neck wasstanding stiffly when Perat opened the door for her and they enteredthe Zone Provost's chambers.  <doc-sep>The girl did not answer then and a hushed expectancy fell over theship. Somewhere aft a small motor was running. Wind whistled past theopen lock.     I've caused plenty of trouble haven't I? she asked aloud, finally.This was certainly a fool stunt, and I'm guilty of a lot of foolstunts! I just didn't realize until now the      why     of that law.     Don't talk so much, the nurse admonished. A lot of people have foundout the      why     of that law the hard way, just as you are doing, andlived to remember it. Until hospitals are built on this forlorn world,humans like you who haven't been properly conditioned will have to stayright at home.     How about these men that live and work here?     They never get here until they've been through the mill first.Adenoids, appendix', all the extra parts they can get along without.     Well, Judith said. I've certainly learned my lesson!     Gray didn't answer, but from out of the darkness surrounding her came asound remarkably resembling a snort.     Gray? Judith asked fearfully.     Yes?     Hasn't the pilot been gone an awfully long time?     Rat himself provided the answer by alighting at the lip with a jar thatshook the ship. He was breathing heavily and lugging something in hisarms. The burden groaned.     Gladney! Nurse Gray exclaimed.     I got. Rat confirmed. Yes, Gladney. Damn heavy, Gladney.     But how? she demanded. What of Roberds and Peterson?     Trick, he sniggered. I burn down my shack. Boss run out. I run in.Very simple. He packed Gladney into the remaining hammock and snappedbuckles.     And Peterson? she prompted.     Oh yes. Peterson. So sorry about Peterson. Had to fan him.           Fan     him? I don't understand.     Fan. With chair. Everything all right. I apologized. Rat finished upand was walking back to the lock. They heard a slight rustling of wingsas he padded away.     He was back instantly, duplicating his feat of a short time ago.Cursing shouts were slung on the night air, and the deadly spang ofbullets bounced on the hull! Some entered the lock. The Centauriansnapped it shut. Chunks of lead continued to pound the ship. Rat leapedfor the pilot's chair, heavily, a wing drooping.     You've been hurt! Gray cried. A small panel light outlined hisfeatures. She tried to struggle up.     Lie still! We go. Boss get wise. With lightning fingers he flickedseveral switches on the panel, turned to her. Hold belly. Zoom!     Gray folded her hands across her stomach and closed her eyes.     Rat unlocked the master level and shoved!  <doc-sep>Whew! Nurse Gray came back to throbbing awareness, the all toofamiliar feeling of a misplaced stomach attempting to force itscrowded way into her boots plaguing her. Rockets roared in the rear.She loosened a few straps and twisted over. Judith was still out, herface tensed in pain. Gray bit her lip and twisted the other way. TheCentaurian was grinning at her.     Do you always leave in a hurry? she demanded, and instantly wishedshe hadn't said it. He gave no outward sign.     Long-time sleep, he announced. Four, five hours maybe. The cheststrap was lying loose at his side.     That long! she was incredulous. I'm never out more than threehours! Unloosening more straps, she sat up, glanced at the controlpanel.     Not taking time, he stated simply and pointed to a dial. Gray shookher head and looked at the others.     That isn't doing either of them any good!     Rat nodded unhappily. What's her matter—? pointing.     Appendix. Something about this atmosphere sends it haywire. The thingitself isn't diseased, but it starts manufacturing poison. Patient diesin a week unless it is taken out.     Don't know it, he said briefly.     Do you mean to say you don't have an appendix? she demanded.     Rat folded his arms and considered this. Don't know. Maybe yes, maybeno. Where's it hurt?     Gray pointed out the location. The Centaurian considered this furtherand drifted into long contemplation. Watching him, Gray remembered hiseyes that night ... only      last     night ... in the office. Peterson hadrefused to meet them. After awhile Rat came out of it.     No, he waved. No appendix. Never nowhere appendix.     Then Mother Nature has finally woke up! she exclaimed. But why doCentaurians rate it exclusively?     Rat ignored this and asked one of her. What you and her doing upthere? He pointed back and up, to where Mars obliterated the stars.     You might call it a pleasure jaunt. She's only seventeen. We came overin a cruiser belonging to her father; it was rather large and easy tohandle. But the cruise ended when she lost control of the ship becauseof an attack of space-appendicitis. The rest you know.     So you?     So I'm a combination nurse, governess, guard and what have you. Orwill be until we get back. After this, I'll probably be looking forwork. She shivered.     Cold? he inquired concernedly.     On the contrary, I'm too warm. She started to remove the blanket. Ratthrew up a hand to stop her.     Leave on! Hot out here.     But I'm too hot now. I want to take it off!     No. Leave on. Wool blanket. Keep in body heat, yes. Keep out cold,yes. Keep in, keep out, likewise. See?     Gray stared at him. I never thought of it that way before. Why ofcourse! If it protects from one temperature, it will protect fromanother. Isn't it silly of me not to know that? Heat pressing on herface accented the fact.     What is your name? she asked. Your real one I mean.     He grinned. Big. You couldn't say it. Sound like Christmas andbottlenose together real fast. Just say Rat. Everybody does. His eyesswept the panel and flashed back to her. Your name Gray. Have a frontname?     Patti.     Pretty, Patti.     No, just Patti. Say, what's the matter with the cooling system?     Damn punk, he said. This crate for surface work. No space. Coolingsystem groan, damn punk. Won't keep cool here.     And ... she followed up, it will get warmer as we go out?     Rat turned back to his board in a brown study and carefully ignoredher. Gray grasped an inkling of what the coming week could bring.     But how about water? she demanded next. Is there enough?     He faced about. For her— nodding to Judith, and him— to Gladney,yes. Sparingly. Four hours every time, maybe. Back to Gray. You,me ... twice a day. Too bad. His eyes drifted aft to the tank ofwater. She followed. One tank water. All the rest fuel. Too bad, toobad. We get thirsty I think.  <doc-sep>Rat helped Greaseball fill the water tanks to capacity with fuel,checked the concentrated rations and grunted.     Greaseball looked over the interior and chuckled. The boss said stripher, and strip her I did. All right, Rat, outside. He followed theCentaurian out, and pulled the ladder away from the lip of the lock.The two walked across the strip of sandy soil to the office building.On tiptoes, Greaseball poked his head through the door panel. All set.     Roberds nodded at him. Stick with it! and jerked a thumb at Ratoutside. Grease nodded understanding.     Okay, Rat, you can go to bed now. He dropped the ladder against thewall and sat on it. Good night. He watched Rat walk slowly away.     Swinging down the path towards his own rambling shack, Rat caught asibilant whisper. Pausing, undecided, he heard it again.     Here ... can you see me? A white clad arm waved in the gloom. Ratregarded the arm in the window. Another impatient gesture, and hestepped to the sill.     Yes?—in the softest of whispers. The voices of the men in droningconversation drifted in. What you want?     Nothing but silence for a few hanging seconds, and then: Can you pilotthat ship? Her voice was shaky.     He didn't answer, stared at her confused. He felt her fear as clearlyas he detected it in her words.     Well,      can     you? she demanded.     Damn yes! he stated simply. It now necessary?     Very! She is becoming worse. I'm afraid to wait until daylight.And ... well, we want      you     to pilot it! She refuses to riskMr. Roberds' job. She favors you.     Rat stepped back, astonished. She?     Nurse Gray moved from the window and Rat saw the second form in theroom, a slight, quiet figure on a small cot. My patient, Nurse Grayexplained. She overheard our conversation awhile ago. Quick, please,can you?     Rat looked at her and then at the girl on the cot. He vanished from thewindow. Almost immediately, he was back again.     When? he whispered.     As soon as possible. Yes. Do you know...? but he had gone again.Nurse Gray found herself addressing blackness. On the point of turning,she saw him back again.     Blankets, he instructed. Wrap in blankets. Cold—hot too. Wrapgood! And he was gone again. Gray blinked away the illusion hedisappeared upwards.     She ran over to the girl. Judith, if you want to back down, now is thetime. He'll be back in a moment.     No! Judith moaned. No! Gray smiled in the darkness and beganwrapping the blankets around her. A light tapping at the windowannounced the return of Rat. The nurse pushed open the window wide, sawhim out there with arms upstretched.     Grit your teeth and hold on! Here we go. She picked up the blanketedgirl in both arms and walked to the window. Rat took the girl easily asshe was swung out, the blackness hid them both. But he appeared againinstantly.     Better lock window, he cautioned. Stall, if Boss call. Backsoon.... and he was gone.     To Nurse Gray the fifteen minute wait seemed like hours, impatientagonizing hours of tight-lipped anxiety.  <doc-sep>Existence dragged. Paradoxically, time dropped away like a cloak asthe sense of individual hours and minutes vanished, and into its placecrept a slow-torturing substitute. As the ship revolved, monotonously,first the ceiling and then the floor took on dullish, maddeningaspects, eyes ached continuously from staring at them time and againwithout surcease. The steady, drumming rockets crashed into the mindand the walls shrieked malevolently on the eyeballs. Dull, throbbingsameness of the poorly filtered air, a growing taint in the nostrils.Damp warm skin, reeking blankets. The taste of fuel in the mouth forrefreshment. Slowly mounting mental duress. And above all the drummingof the rockets.     Once, a sudden, frightening change of pitch in the rockets and a wild,sickening lurch. Meteor rain. Maddening, plunging swings to the farright and left, made without warning. A torn lip as a sudden lurchtears the faucet from her mouth. A shattered tooth.     Sorry! Rat whispered.     Shut up and drive! she cried.     Patti ... Judith called out, in pain.     Peace of mind followed peace of body into a forgotten limbo of lostthings, a slyly climbing madness directed at one another. Waspishwords uttered in pain, fatigue and temper. Fractiousness. A hot,confined, stale hell. Sleep became a hollow mockery, as bad waterand concentrated tablets brought on stomach pains to plague them.Consciousness punctured only by spasms of lethargy, shared to someextent by the invalids. Above all, crawling lassitude and incalescenttempers.     Rat watched the white, drawn face swing in the hammock beside him. Andhis hands never faltered on the controls.     Never a slackening of the terrific pace; abnormal speed, gruellingdrive ... drive ... drive. Fear. Tantalizing fear made worse becauseRat couldn't understand. Smothered moaning that ate at his nerves.Grim-faced, sleep-wracked, belted to the chair, driving!     How many days? How many days! Gray begged of him thousands of timesuntil the very repetition grated on her eardrums. How many days?His only answer was an inhuman snarl, and the cruel blazing of thoseinhuman eyes.     She fell face first to the floor. I can't keep it up! she cried. Thesound of her voice rolled along the hot steel deck. I cant! I cant!     A double handful of tepid water was thrown in her face. Get up! Ratstood over her, face twisted, his body hunched. Get up! She stared athim, dazed. He kicked her. Get up! The tepid water ran off her faceand far away she heard Judith calling.... She forced herself up. Ratwas back in the chair.  <doc-sep>Doctor Burns, head of the readjustment staff at the Youth Center,studied Wayne with abstract interest.     You enjoyed the hunt, Seton? You got your kicks?     Yes, sir.     But you couldn't execute them?     No, sir.     They're undesirables. Incurables. You know that, Seton?     Yes, sir.     The psycho you only wounded. He's a five-times murderer. And that girlkilled her father when she was twelve. You realize there's nothing canbe done for them? That they have to be executed?     I know.     Too bad, the doctor said. We all have aggressive impulses, primitiveneeds that must be expressed early, purged. There's murder in allof us, Seton. The impulse shouldn't be denied or suppressed, but      educated     . The state used to kill them. Isn't it better all around,Seton, for us to do it, as part of growing up? What was the matter,Seton?     I—felt sorry for her.     Is that all you can say about it?     Yes, sir.     The doctor pressed a buzzer. Two men in white coats entered.     You should have got it out of your system, Seton, but now it's stillin there. I can't turn you out and have it erupt later—and maybe shedclean innocent blood, can I?     No, sir, Wayne mumbled. He didn't look up. I'm sorry I punked out.     Give him the treatment, the doctor said wearily. And send him backto his mother.     Wayne nodded and they led him away. His mind screamed still to splitopen some prison of bone and lay bare and breathing wide. But therewas no way out for the trapped. Now he knew about the old man and hispoker-playing pals.     They had all punked out.     Like him.  <doc-sep>I didn't exactly talk back, but in the queer way of the dream, I      thought     objections. I was in my thirties, at the mid-point of mylife, and the whole of that life had been spent under the State. I knewno other way to act. Suppressing what little individuality I mighthave was, for me, a way of survival. I was chockful of prescribed,stereotyped reactions, and I held onto them even when something withinme told me what they were. This wasn't easy, this breaking away, noteven this slight departure from the secure, camouflaged norm....           The woman, Lara, attracts you     , said the voice.     I suppose at that point I twitched or rolled in my sleep. Yes, thevoice was right, the woman Lara attracted me. So much that I ached withit.           Take her. Find a way. When you succeed in changing your name, andknow that you can do things, then find a way. There will be a way.          The idea at once thrilled and frightened me.     I woke writhing and in a sweat again.     It was morning.     I dressed and headed for the jetcopter stage and the ship for CenterOne.     The ship was comfortable and departed on time, a transport with seatsfor about twenty passengers. I sat near the tail and moodily busiedmyself watching the gaunt brown earth far below. Between Centers therewas mostly desert, only occasional patches of green. Before the atomicdecade, I had heard, nearly all the earth was green and teemed withlife ... birds, insects, animals, people, too. It was hard rock andsand now, with a few scrubs hanging on for life. The pre-atomics, whohadn't mastered synthesization, would have a hard time scratchingexistence from the earth today.     I tried to break the sad mood, and started to look around at some ofthe other passengers. That was when I first noticed the prisonersin the forward seats. Man and woman, they were, a youngish, rathernon-descript couple, thin, very quiet. They were manacled and twoDeacons sat across from them. The Deacons' backs were turned to me andI could see the prisoners' faces.     They had curious faces. Their eyes were indescribably sad, and yettheir lips seemed to be ready to smile at any moment.     They were holding hands, not seeming to care about this vulgaremotional display.     I had the sudden crazy idea that Lara and I were sitting there, holdinghands like that, nonconforming in the highest, and that we werewonderfully happy. Our eyes were sad too, but we were really happy,quietly happy, and that was why our lips stayed upon the brink of asmile.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What significance does the shipwreck of Judith's father hold in the story of PRISON PLANET?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How does the character Patti Gray's journey unfold in the story PRISON PLANET? [SEP] <s>Whew! Nurse Gray came back to throbbing awareness, the all toofamiliar feeling of a misplaced stomach attempting to force itscrowded way into her boots plaguing her. Rockets roared in the rear.She loosened a few straps and twisted over. Judith was still out, herface tensed in pain. Gray bit her lip and twisted the other way. TheCentaurian was grinning at her.     Do you always leave in a hurry? she demanded, and instantly wishedshe hadn't said it. He gave no outward sign.     Long-time sleep, he announced. Four, five hours maybe. The cheststrap was lying loose at his side.     That long! she was incredulous. I'm never out more than threehours! Unloosening more straps, she sat up, glanced at the controlpanel.     Not taking time, he stated simply and pointed to a dial. Gray shookher head and looked at the others.     That isn't doing either of them any good!     Rat nodded unhappily. What's her matter—? pointing.     Appendix. Something about this atmosphere sends it haywire. The thingitself isn't diseased, but it starts manufacturing poison. Patient diesin a week unless it is taken out.     Don't know it, he said briefly.     Do you mean to say you don't have an appendix? she demanded.     Rat folded his arms and considered this. Don't know. Maybe yes, maybeno. Where's it hurt?     Gray pointed out the location. The Centaurian considered this furtherand drifted into long contemplation. Watching him, Gray remembered hiseyes that night ... only      last     night ... in the office. Peterson hadrefused to meet them. After awhile Rat came out of it.     No, he waved. No appendix. Never nowhere appendix.     Then Mother Nature has finally woke up! she exclaimed. But why doCentaurians rate it exclusively?     Rat ignored this and asked one of her. What you and her doing upthere? He pointed back and up, to where Mars obliterated the stars.     You might call it a pleasure jaunt. She's only seventeen. We came overin a cruiser belonging to her father; it was rather large and easy tohandle. But the cruise ended when she lost control of the ship becauseof an attack of space-appendicitis. The rest you know.     So you?     So I'm a combination nurse, governess, guard and what have you. Orwill be until we get back. After this, I'll probably be looking forwork. She shivered.     Cold? he inquired concernedly.     On the contrary, I'm too warm. She started to remove the blanket. Ratthrew up a hand to stop her.     Leave on! Hot out here.     But I'm too hot now. I want to take it off!     No. Leave on. Wool blanket. Keep in body heat, yes. Keep out cold,yes. Keep in, keep out, likewise. See?     Gray stared at him. I never thought of it that way before. Why ofcourse! If it protects from one temperature, it will protect fromanother. Isn't it silly of me not to know that? Heat pressing on herface accented the fact.     What is your name? she asked. Your real one I mean.     He grinned. Big. You couldn't say it. Sound like Christmas andbottlenose together real fast. Just say Rat. Everybody does. His eyesswept the panel and flashed back to her. Your name Gray. Have a frontname?     Patti.     Pretty, Patti.     No, just Patti. Say, what's the matter with the cooling system?     Damn punk, he said. This crate for surface work. No space. Coolingsystem groan, damn punk. Won't keep cool here.     And ... she followed up, it will get warmer as we go out?     Rat turned back to his board in a brown study and carefully ignoredher. Gray grasped an inkling of what the coming week could bring.     But how about water? she demanded next. Is there enough?     He faced about. For her— nodding to Judith, and him— to Gladney,yes. Sparingly. Four hours every time, maybe. Back to Gray. You,me ... twice a day. Too bad. His eyes drifted aft to the tank ofwater. She followed. One tank water. All the rest fuel. Too bad, toobad. We get thirsty I think.  <doc-sep>Gladney unexpectedly exploded. He had been awake for a long time,watching Rat at the board. Wrenching loose a chest strap he attemptedto sit up.     Rat! Damn you Rat, listen to me!      When're you going to start braking     ,Rat?     I hear you. He turned on Gladney with dulled eyes. Lie down. Yousick.     I'll be damned if I'm going to lie here and let you drive us to Orion!We must be near the half-way line! When are you going to start braking?     Not brake, Rat answered sullenly. No, not brake.           Not brake?      Gladney screamed and sat bolt upright. Nurse Gray jumpedfor him. Are you crazy, you skinny rat? Gray secured a hold on hisshoulders and forced him down. You gotta brake! Don't you understandthat? You have to, you vacuum-skull! Gray was pleading with him toshut-up like a good fellow. He appealed to her. He's gotta brake! Makehim!     He has a good point there, Rat, she spoke up. What about thishalf-way line?     He turned to her with a weary ghost of the old smile on his face. Wepassed line. Three days ago, maybe. A shrug of shoulders.     Passed! Gray and Gladney exclaimed in unison.     You catch on quick, Rat nodded. This six day, don't you know?     Gladney sank back, exhausted. The nurse crept over to the pilot.Getting your figures mixed, aren't you?     Rat shook his head and said nothing.     But Roberds said eight days, and he—     —he on Mars. I here. Boss nuts, too sad. He drive, it be eight days.Now only six. He cast a glance at Judith and found her eyes closed.Six days, no brake. No.     I see your point, and appreciate it, Gray cut in. But now what? Thisdeceleration business ... there is a whole lot I don't know, but somethings I do!     Rat refused the expected answer. Land tonight, I think. Never been toEarth before. Somebody meet us, I think.     You can bet your leather boots somebody will meet us! Gladney cried.Gray turned to him. The Chief'll have the whole planet waiting for      you     ! He laughed with real satisfaction. Oh yes, Rat, they'll besomebody waiting for us all right. And then he added: If we land.     Oh, we land. Rat confided, glad to share a secret.     Yeah, Gladney grated. But in how many little pieces?     I've never been to Earth before. Nice, I think. Patti Gray caughtsomething new in the tone and stared at him. Gladney must have noticedit, too.     The Centaurian moved sideways and pointed. Gray placed her eyes in thevacated position.     Earth! she shouted.     Quite. Nice. Do me a favor?     Just name it!     Not drink long time. Some water?     Gray nodded and went to the faucet. The drumming seemed remote, thetension vanished. She was an uncommonly long time in returning, at lastshe appeared beside him, outstretched hands dry.     There isn't any left, Rat.     Rat batted his tired eyes expressively. Tasted punk, he grinned ather.     She sat down on the floor suddenly and buried her face.     Rat, she said presently, I want to ask you something, ratherpersonal? Your ... name. 'Rat'? Roberds told me something about yourrecord. But ... please tell me, Rat. You didn't know the attack wascoming, did you?     He grinned again and waggled his head at her. No. Who tell Rat?Suddenly he was deadly serious as he spoke to her. Rat a.w.o.l., goout to help sick man alone in desert. Rat leave post. Not time sendcall through. Come back with man, find horrible thing happen.     But why didn't you explain?     He grinned again. Who believe? Sick man die soon after.     Gladney sat up. He had heard the conversation between the two. You'reright, Rat. No one would have believed you then, and no one will now.You've been safe enough on Mars, but the police will nab you as soon asyou get out of the ship.     They can't! cried Patti Gray. They can't hurt him after what he'sdone now.     The Centaurian grinned in a cynical way.     Police not get me, Gladney. Gladney's memory damn punk, I think. Earthpretty nice place, maybe. But not for Rat.     Gladney stared at him for minutes. Then: Say, I get it ... you're—     Shut up! Rat cut him off sharply. You talk too much. He cast aglance at Nurse Gray and then threw a meaning look at Gladney.  <doc-sep>When the door slammed shut Roberds locked it. Peterson slumped in thechair.     Do you mean that, Chief? About taking the ship yourself?     True enough. Roberds cast an anxious glance at the partly closeddoor, lowered his voice. It'll cost me my job, but that girl in therehas to be taken to a hospital quickly! And it's her luck to be landedon a planet that doesn't boast even one! So it's Earth ... or shedies. I'd feel a lot better too if we could get Gladney to a hospital,I'm not too confident of that patching job. He pulled a pipe from ajacket pocket. So, might as well kill two birds with one stone ... andthat wasn't meant to be funny!     Peterson said nothing, sat watching the door.     Rat has the right idea, Roberds continued, but I had already thoughtof it. About the bunks and lockers. Greaseball has been out there allnight tearing them out. We just      might     be able to hop by dawn ... andhell of a long, grinding hop it will be!     The nurse came out of the door.     How is she? Roberds asked.     Sleeping, Gray whispered. But sinking....     We can take off at dawn, I think. He filled the pipe and didn't lookat her. You'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock.     I can take it. Suddenly she smiled, wanly. I was with the Fleet. Howlong will it take?     Eight days, in      that     ship.     Roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. He knew Petersonwas harboring the same thoughts. Eight days in space, in a small shipmeant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. Eight days inthat untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl andGladney.     Who was that ... man? The one you put out? Gray asked.     We call him Rat, Roberds said.     She didn't ask why. She said: Why couldn't he pilot the ship, I mean?What is his record?     Peterson opened his mouth.     Shut up, Peterson! the Chief snapped. We don't talk about his recordaround here, Miss Gray. It's not a pretty thing to tell.     Stow it, Chief, said Peterson. Miss Gray is no pantywaist. Heturned to the nurse. Ever hear of the Sansan massacre?     Patti Gray paled. Yes, she whispered. Was Rat in that?     Roberds shook his head. He didn't take part in it. But Rat wasattached to a very important office at the time, the outpost watch.And when Mad Barry Sansan and his gang of thugs swooped down on theGanymedean colony, there was no warning. Our friend Rat was AWOL.     As to who he is ... well, just one of those freaks from up aroundCentauria somewhere. He's been hanging around all the fields and dumpson Mars a long time, finally landed up here.     But, protested Miss Gray, I don't understand? I always thought thatleaving one's post under such circumstances meant execution.     The Chief Consul nodded. It does, usually. But this was a freak case.It would take hours to explain. However, I'll just sum it up in oneword: politics. Politics, with which Rat had no connection saved him.     The girl shook her head, more in sympathy than condemnation.     Are you expecting the others in soon? she asked. It wouldn't beright to leave Peterson.     They will be in, in a day or two. Peterson will beat it over to Basestation for repairs, and to notify Earth we're coming. He'll be allright.     Abruptly she stood up. Goodnight gentlemen. Call me if I'm needed.     Roberds nodded acknowledgement. The door to the side room closed behindher. Peterson hauled his chair over to the desk. He sniffed the air.     Damned rat! he whispered harshly. They ought to make a law forcinghim to wear dark glasses!     Roberds smiled wearily. His eyes do get a man, don't they?     I'd like to burn 'em out! Peterson snarled.  <doc-sep>They did get thirsty, soon. A damnable hot thirst accented bythe knowledge that water was precious, a thirst increased by adried-up-in-the-mouth sensation. Their first drink was strangelybitter; tragically disappointing. Patti Gray suddenly swung upright inthe hammock and kicked her legs. She massaged her throat with a nervoushand, wiped damp hair from about her face.     I have to have a drink.     Rat stared at her without answer.     I said, I have to have a drink!     Heard you.     Well...?     Well, nothing. Stall. Keep water longer.     She swung a vicious boot and missed by inches. Rat grinned, and madehis way aft, hand over hand. He treaded cautiously along the deck. Dolike this, he called over his shoulder. Gravity punk too. Back andunder, gravity. He waited until she joined him at the water tap.     They stood there glaring idiotically at each other.     She burst out laughing. They even threw the drinking cups out! Ratinched the handle grudgingly and she applied lips to the faucet.     Faugh! Gray sprang back, forgot herself and lost her balance, satdown on the deck and spat out the water. It's hot! It tastes like helland it's hot! It must be fuel!     Rat applied his lips to the tap and sampled. Coming up with a mouthfulhe swished it around on his tongue like mouthwash. Abruptly hecontrived a facial contortion between a grin and a grimace, and letsome of the water trickle from the edges of his mouth. He swallowed andit cost him something.     No. I mean yes, I think. Water, no doubt. Yes. Fuel out, water in.Swish-swush. Dammit, Greaseball forget to wash tank!     But what makes it so hot? She worked her mouth to dry-rinse the tasteof the fuel.     Ship get hot. Water on sun side. H-m-m-m-m-m-m.     H-m-m-m-m-m-m-m what?     Flip-flop. He could talk with his hands as well. Hot side over likepancake. Rat hobbled over to the board and sat down. An experimentalflick on a lever produced nothing. Another flick, this time followed bya quivering jar. He contemplated the panel board while fastening hisbelt.     H-m-m-m-m-m-m, the lower lip protruded.     Gray protested. Oh, stop humming and do something! That wa— theword was queerly torn from her throat, and a scream magically filledthe vacancy. Nurse Gray sat up and rubbed a painful spot that hadsuddenly appeared on her arm. She found her nose bleeding and anothernew, swelling bruise on the side of her head. Around her the place wasempty. Bare.     No, not quite. A wispy something was hanging just out of sight inthe corner of the eye; the water tap was now moulded      upward     , beadsglistening on its handle. The wispy thing caught her attention againand she looked up.     Two people, tightly wrapped and bound in hammocks, were staring down ather, amazed, swinging on their stomachs. Craning further, she saw Rat.He was hanging upside down in the chair, grinning at her in reverse.     Flip-flop, he laconically explained.     For cripes sakes, Jehosaphat! Gladney groaned. Turn me over on myback! Do something! Gray stood on tiptoes and just could pivot thehammocks on their rope-axis.     And now, please, just      how     do I get into mine? she bit at Rat.  <doc-sep>   PRISON PLANET     By BOB TUCKER     To remain on Mars meant death from agonizing     space-sickness, but Earth-surgery lay     days of flight away. And there was only     a surface rocket in which to escape—with     a traitorous Ganymedean for its pilot.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1942.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Listen, Rat! Roberds said, what      I     say goes around here. It doesn'thappen to be any of your business. I'm still in possession of my wits,and I know Peterson can't handle that ship. Furthermore Gladney willbe in it too, right along side of that sick girl in there! And Rat,get this:      I'm     going to pilot that ship. Understand? Consulate orno Consulate, job or no job, I'm wheeling that crate to Earth becausethis is an emergency. And the emergency happens to be bigger than myposition, to me at any rate. His tone dropped to a deadly softness.Now will you kindly remove your stinking carcass from this office?     Unheeding, Rat swung his eyes around in the gloom and discovered thewoman, a nurse in uniform. He blinked at her and she returned the look,wavering. She bit her lip and determination flowed back. She met thestare of his boring, off-colored eyes. Rat grinned suddenly. Nurse Grayalmost smiled back, stopped before the others could see it.     Won't go! The Centaurian resumed his fight. You not go, lose job,black-listed. Never get another. Look at me. I know. He retreateda precious step to escape a rolled up fist. Little ship carry fournice. Rip out lockers and bunks. Swing hammocks. Put fuel in watertanks. Live on concentrates. Earth hospital fix bellyache afterwards,allright. I pilot ship. Yes?     No! Roberds screamed.     Almost in answer, a moan issued from a small side room. The men in theoffice froze as Nurse Gray ran across the room. She disappeared throughthe narrow door.     Peterson, the field manager ordered, come over here and help methrow this rat out.... He went for Rat. Peterson swung up out of hischair with balled fist. The outlander backed rapidly.     No need, no need, no need! he said quickly. I go. Still backing, heblindly kicked at the door and stepped into the night.  <doc-sep>Michael strained his ears past the racket of the advideo. Sure enough,he could make out words: Our wings were unfurled in a far distantworld, our bodies are pain-racked, delirious. And never, it seems, willwe see, save in dreams, the bright purple swamps of our Sirius....     Carpenter brushed away a tear. Poignant, isn't it?     Very, very touching, Michael agreed. Are they sick or something?     Oh, no; they wouldn't have been permitted on the bus if they were.They're just homesick. Sirians love being homesick. That's why theyleave Sirius in such great numbers.     Fasten your suction disks, please, the stewardess, a prettytwo-headed Denebian, ordered as she walked up and down the gangway.We're coming into Portyork. I have an announcement to make to allpassengers on behalf of the United Universe. Zosma was admitted intothe Union early this morning.     All the passengers cheered.     Since it is considered immodest on Zosma, she continued, ever toappear with the heads bare, henceforward it will be tabu to be seen inpublic without some sort of head-covering.     Wild scrabbling sounds indicated that all the passengers were searchingtheir packs for headgear. Michael unearthed a violet cap.     The salesmen unfolded what looked like a medieval opera hat inpiercingly bright green.       Always got to keep on your toes, he whispered to the younger man.The Universe is expanding every minute.     The bus settled softly on the landing field and the passengers flew,floated, crawled, undulated, or walked out. Michael looked around himcuriously. The Lodge had contained no extraterrestrials, for such ofthose as sought seclusion had Brotherhoods on their own planets.     Of course, even in Angeles he had seen other-worlders—humanoids fromVega, scaly Electrans, the wispy ubiquitous Sirians—but nothing tocompare with the crowds that surged here. Scarlet Meropians rubbedtentacles with bulging-eyed Talithans; lumpish gray Jovians ploddedalongside graceful, spidery Nunkians. And there were countless otherswhom he had seen pictured in books, but never before in reality.     The gaily colored costumes and bodies of these beings renderedkaleidoscopic a field already brilliant with red-and-green lights andbanners. The effect was enhanced by Mr. Carpenter, whose emerald-greencloak was drawn back to reveal a chartreuse tunic and olive-greenbreeches which had apparently been designed for a taller and somewhatless pudgy man.  <doc-sep>Existence dragged. Paradoxically, time dropped away like a cloak asthe sense of individual hours and minutes vanished, and into its placecrept a slow-torturing substitute. As the ship revolved, monotonously,first the ceiling and then the floor took on dullish, maddeningaspects, eyes ached continuously from staring at them time and againwithout surcease. The steady, drumming rockets crashed into the mindand the walls shrieked malevolently on the eyeballs. Dull, throbbingsameness of the poorly filtered air, a growing taint in the nostrils.Damp warm skin, reeking blankets. The taste of fuel in the mouth forrefreshment. Slowly mounting mental duress. And above all the drummingof the rockets.     Once, a sudden, frightening change of pitch in the rockets and a wild,sickening lurch. Meteor rain. Maddening, plunging swings to the farright and left, made without warning. A torn lip as a sudden lurchtears the faucet from her mouth. A shattered tooth.     Sorry! Rat whispered.     Shut up and drive! she cried.     Patti ... Judith called out, in pain.     Peace of mind followed peace of body into a forgotten limbo of lostthings, a slyly climbing madness directed at one another. Waspishwords uttered in pain, fatigue and temper. Fractiousness. A hot,confined, stale hell. Sleep became a hollow mockery, as bad waterand concentrated tablets brought on stomach pains to plague them.Consciousness punctured only by spasms of lethargy, shared to someextent by the invalids. Above all, crawling lassitude and incalescenttempers.     Rat watched the white, drawn face swing in the hammock beside him. Andhis hands never faltered on the controls.     Never a slackening of the terrific pace; abnormal speed, gruellingdrive ... drive ... drive. Fear. Tantalizing fear made worse becauseRat couldn't understand. Smothered moaning that ate at his nerves.Grim-faced, sleep-wracked, belted to the chair, driving!     How many days? How many days! Gray begged of him thousands of timesuntil the very repetition grated on her eardrums. How many days?His only answer was an inhuman snarl, and the cruel blazing of thoseinhuman eyes.     She fell face first to the floor. I can't keep it up! she cried. Thesound of her voice rolled along the hot steel deck. I cant! I cant!     A double handful of tepid water was thrown in her face. Get up! Ratstood over her, face twisted, his body hunched. Get up! She stared athim, dazed. He kicked her. Get up! The tepid water ran off her faceand far away she heard Judith calling.... She forced herself up. Ratwas back in the chair.  <doc-sep>I'd like to get a look at you, he said.     The girl laughed self-consciously. It's getting gray out. You'll seeme soon enough.     But she'd see      him     , Roddie realized. He had to talk fast.     What'll we do when it's light? he asked.     Well, I guess the boats have gone, Ida said. You could swim theGate, I guess—you seem tall and strong enough. But I couldn't. You'llthink it's crazy, but I've given this some thought, and even looked itover from the other side. I expect to try the Golden Gate Bridge!     Now he was getting somewhere! The bridge was ruined, impassable. Evenher own people had crossed the Strait by other means. But if there      were     a way over the bridge....     It's broken, he said. How in the world can we cross it?     Oh, you'll find out, if you take me up there. I—I don't want to bealone, Roddie. Will you go with me? Now?     Well, she could be made to point out the route before he killedher—      if     nothing happened when she saw him.     Uneasy, Roddie hefted the hammer in his hand.     A giggle broke the pause. It's nice of you to wait and let me go firstup the ladder, the girl said. But where the heck is the rusty oldthing?     I'll go first, said Roddie. He might need the advantage. Theladder's right behind me.     He climbed with hammer in teeth, and stretched his left hand fromstreet level to grasp and neutralize the girl's right. Then, nervouslyfingering his weapon, he stared at her in the thin gray dawn.     She was short and lean, except for roundnesses here and there. From hershapeless doeskin dress stretched slender legs that tapered to feetthat were bare, tiny, and, like her hands, only two in number.     Roddie was pleased. They were evenly matched as to members, and thatwould make things easy when the time came.     He looked into her face. It smiled at him, tanned and ruddy, with afull mouth and bright dark eyes that hid under long lashes when helooked too long.     Startling, those wary eyes. Concealing. For a moment he felt a rush offear, but she gave his hand a squeeze before twisting loose, and burstinto sudden laughter.     Diapers! she chortled, struggling to keep her voice low. My big,strong, blond and blue-eyed hero goes into battle wearing diapers, andcarrying only a hammer to fight with! You're the most unforgettablecharacter I have ever known!     He'd passed inspection, then—so far. He expelled his withheld breath,and said, I think you'll find me a little odd, in some ways.     Oh, not at all, Ida replied quickly. Different, yes, but I wouldn'tsay odd.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How does the character Patti Gray's journey unfold in the story PRISON PLANET?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in THE GIRLS FROM EARTH? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>   HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS     By JIM HARMON     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Every lonely man tries to make friends.     Manet just didn't know when to stop!      William Manet was alone.     In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It wouldgive him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlateloneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take himto start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to beginteaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminablelectures to a bored and captive audience of one.     He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whetherit was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and asdirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal andthink more like a god than any man for generations.     But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearingbore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.     Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was alreadytalking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he hadcut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up andwinked at it whenever he passed that way.     Lately she was winking back at him.     Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh fromhis arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.     No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manetcould only be this lonely on Mars.     Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.     All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middleof the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat,flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in theblack sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moonsand one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The wholegimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one wasneeded here—no human being, at least.     The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn'ttake much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefullyspecified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycombMars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.     They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated peoplefor the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going toisolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manetand his fellows.     The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fareto Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuterservice for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodationsfor couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren'tproviding fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits betweenthe various Overseers. They weren't very providential.     But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offeredwonderful opportunities.     It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship makinga tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning asbright as envy.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>Zotul, anxious to possess the treasures promised by the Earthman,won over his brothers. They signed with marks and gave up a quarterinterest in the Pottery of Masur. They rolled in the luxuries of Earth.These, who had never known debt before, were in it up to their ears.     The retooled plant forged ahead and profits began to look up, but theEarthmen took a fourth of them as their share in the industry.     For a year, the brothers drove their shiny new cars about on thenew concrete highways the Earthmen had built. From pumps owned by aterrestrial company, they bought gas and oil that had been drawn fromthe crust of Zur and was sold to the Zurians at a magnificent profit.The food they ate was cooked in Earthly pots on Earth-type gas ranges,served up on metal plates that had been stamped out on Earth. In thewinter, they toasted their shins before handsome gas grates, thoughthey had gas-fired central heating.     About this time, the ships from Earth brought steam-powered electricgenerators. Lines went up, power was generated, and a flood ofelectrical gadgets and appliances hit the market. For some reason,batteries for the radios were no longer available and everybody had tobuy the new radios. And who could do without a radio in this modern age?     The homes of the brothers Masur blossomed on the Easy Payment Plan.They had refrigerators, washers, driers, toasters, grills, electricfans, air-conditioning equipment and everything else Earth couldpossibly sell them.     We will be forty years paying it all off, exulted Zotul, butmeantime we have the things and aren't they worth it?     But at the end of three years, the Earthmen dropped their option.The Pottery of Masur had no more contracts. Business languished. TheEarthmen, explained Broderick, had built a plant of their own becauseit was so much more efficient—and to lower prices, which was Earth'sunswerving policy, greater and greater efficiency was demanded.Broderick was very sympathetic, but there was nothing he could do.     The introduction of television provided a further calamity. The setswere delicate and needed frequent repairs, hence were costly to own andmaintain. But all Zurians who had to keep up with the latest from Earthhad them. Now it was possible not only to hear about things of Earth,but to see them as they were broadcast from the video tapes.     The printing plants that turned out mortgage contracts did a lushbusiness.  <doc-sep>As if to provide an example, a figure suddenly materialized ontheir side of the bubble. The wolflike dogs bared their fangs. Foran instant, there was only an eerie, distorted, rapidly growingsilhouette, changing from blood-red to black as the boundary of thebubble cross-sectioned the intruding figure. Then they recognized theback of another long-haired warrior and realized that the audience onthe other side of the bubble had probably seen him approaching for sometime.     He bowed to the hooded figure and handed him a small bag.     More atavistic cubs, big and little! Hold still, Cynthia, a new voicecut in.     Hal turned and saw that two cold-eyed girls had been ushered into thecubicle. One was wiping her close-cropped hair with one hand whilemopping a green stain from her friend's back with the other.     Hal nudged Joggy and whispered: Butch!     But Joggy was still hypnotized by the Time Bubble.     Then how is it, Hal, he asked, that light comes out of the bubble,if the people don't? What I mean is, if one of the people walks towardus, he shrinks to a red blot and disappears. Why doesn't the lightcoming our way disappear, too?     Well—you see, Joggy, it isn't real light. It's—     Once more the interpreter helped him out.     The light that comes from the bubble is an isotope. Like atoms ofone element, photons of a single frequency also have isotopes. It'smore than a matter of polarization. One of these isotopes of lighttends to leak futureward through holes in space-time. Most of thelight goes down the vistas visible to the other side of the audience.But one isotope is diverted through the walls of the bubble into theTime Theater. Perhaps, because of the intense darkness of the theater,you haven't realized how dimly lit the scene is. That's because we'regetting only a single isotope of the original light. Incidentally, noisotopes have been discovered that leak pastward, though attempts arebeing made to synthesize them.     Oh, explanations! murmured one of the newly arrived girls. The cubsare always angling for them. Apple-polishers!           I     like this show, a familiar voice announced serenely. They cutanybody yet with those choppers?     Hal looked down beside him. Butch! How did you manage to get in?     I don't see any blood. Where's the bodies?     But how      did     you get in—Butcher?  <doc-sep>The first contact Man had ever had with an intelligent alien raceoccurred out on the perimeter in a small quiet place a long way fromhome. Late in the year 2360—the exact date remains unknown—an alienforce attacked and destroyed the colony at Lupus V. The wreckage andthe dead were found by a mailship which flashed off screaming for thearmy.     When the army came it found this: Of the seventy registered colonists,thirty-one were dead. The rest, including some women and children,were missing. All technical equipment, all radios, guns, machines,even books, were also missing. The buildings had been burned, so werethe bodies. Apparently the aliens had a heat ray. What else they had,nobody knew. After a few days of walking around in the ash, one soldierfinally stumbled on something.     For security reasons, there was a detonator in one of the mainbuildings. In case of enemy attack, Security had provided a bomb to beburied in the center of each colony, because it was important to blowa whole village to hell and gone rather than let a hostile alien learnvital facts about human technology and body chemistry. There was a bombat Lupus V too, and though it had been detonated it had not blown. Thedetonating wire had been cut.     In the heart of the camp, hidden from view under twelve inches ofearth, the wire had been dug up and cut.     The army could not understand it and had no time to try. After fivehundred years of peace and anti-war conditioning the army was small,weak and without respect. Therefore, the army did nothing but spreadthe news, and Man began to fall back.     In a thickening, hastening stream he came back from the hard-wonstars, blowing up his homes behind him, stunned and cursing. Most ofthe colonists got out in time. A few, the farthest and loneliest, diedin fire before the army ships could reach them. And the men in thoseships, drinkers and gamblers and veterans of nothing, the dregs of asociety which had grown beyond them, were for a long while the onlydefense Earth had.     This was the message Captain Dylan had brought, come out from Earthwith a bottle on his hip.  <doc-sep>Carpenter rubbed modestly gloved hands together. I have no immediatebusiness, so supposing I start showing you the sights. What would youlike to see first, Mr. Frey? Or would you prefer a nice, restful movid?     Frankly, Michael admitted, the first thing I'd like to do is getmyself something to eat. I didn't have any breakfast and I'm famished.Two small creatures standing close to him giggled nervously andscuttled off on six legs apiece.     Shh, not so loud! There are females present. Carpenter drew theyouth to a secluded corner. Don't you know that on Theemim it'sfrightfully vulgar to as much as speak of eating in public?     But why? Michael demanded in too loud a voice. What's wrong witheating in public here on Earth?     Carpenter clapped a hand over the young man's mouth. Hush, hecautioned. After all, on Earth there are things we don't do or evenmention in public, aren't there?     Well, yes. But those are different.     Not at all. Those rules might seem just as ridiculous to a Theemimian.But the Theemimians have accepted our customs just as we have acceptedthe Theemimians'. How would you like it if a Theemimian violatedone of our tabus in public? You must consider the feelings of theTheemimians as equal to your own. Observe the golden rule: 'Do untoextraterrestrials as you would be done by.'     But I'm still hungry, Michael persisted, modulating his voice,however, to a decent whisper. Do the proprieties demand that I starveto death, or can I get something to eat somewhere?     Naturally, the salesman whispered back. Portyork provides for allbodily needs. Numerous feeding stations are conveniently locatedthroughout the port, and there must be some on the field.     After gazing furtively over his shoulder to see that no females werewatching, Carpenter approached a large map of the landing field andpressed a button. A tiny red light winked demurely for an instant.     That's the nearest one, Carpenter explained.  <doc-sep>The girl did not answer then and a hushed expectancy fell over theship. Somewhere aft a small motor was running. Wind whistled past theopen lock.     I've caused plenty of trouble haven't I? she asked aloud, finally.This was certainly a fool stunt, and I'm guilty of a lot of foolstunts! I just didn't realize until now the      why     of that law.     Don't talk so much, the nurse admonished. A lot of people have foundout the      why     of that law the hard way, just as you are doing, andlived to remember it. Until hospitals are built on this forlorn world,humans like you who haven't been properly conditioned will have to stayright at home.     How about these men that live and work here?     They never get here until they've been through the mill first.Adenoids, appendix', all the extra parts they can get along without.     Well, Judith said. I've certainly learned my lesson!     Gray didn't answer, but from out of the darkness surrounding her came asound remarkably resembling a snort.     Gray? Judith asked fearfully.     Yes?     Hasn't the pilot been gone an awfully long time?     Rat himself provided the answer by alighting at the lip with a jar thatshook the ship. He was breathing heavily and lugging something in hisarms. The burden groaned.     Gladney! Nurse Gray exclaimed.     I got. Rat confirmed. Yes, Gladney. Damn heavy, Gladney.     But how? she demanded. What of Roberds and Peterson?     Trick, he sniggered. I burn down my shack. Boss run out. I run in.Very simple. He packed Gladney into the remaining hammock and snappedbuckles.     And Peterson? she prompted.     Oh yes. Peterson. So sorry about Peterson. Had to fan him.           Fan     him? I don't understand.     Fan. With chair. Everything all right. I apologized. Rat finished upand was walking back to the lock. They heard a slight rustling of wingsas he padded away.     He was back instantly, duplicating his feat of a short time ago.Cursing shouts were slung on the night air, and the deadly spang ofbullets bounced on the hull! Some entered the lock. The Centauriansnapped it shut. Chunks of lead continued to pound the ship. Rat leapedfor the pilot's chair, heavily, a wing drooping.     You've been hurt! Gray cried. A small panel light outlined hisfeatures. She tried to struggle up.     Lie still! We go. Boss get wise. With lightning fingers he flickedseveral switches on the panel, turned to her. Hold belly. Zoom!     Gray folded her hands across her stomach and closed her eyes.     Rat unlocked the master level and shoved!  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in THE GIRLS FROM EARTH?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What are the various societal expectations placed on women? [SEP] <s>Albuquerque, New Mexico     June 15     Dear Joe:     I had tremendous difficulty getting a letter off to you this time.My process—original with myself, by the way—is to send out feelervibrations for what these people call the psychic individual. Then Iestablish contact with him while he sleeps and compel him without hisknowledge to translate my ideas into written language. He writes myletter and mails it to you. Of course, he has no awareness of what hehas done.     My first five tries were unfortunate. Each time I took control of anindividual who could not read or write! Finally I found my man, butI fear his words are limited. Ah, well. I had great things to tellyou about my progress, but I cannot convey even a hint of how I haveaccomplished these miracles through the thick skull of this incompetent.     In simple terms then: I crept into a cave and slipped into a kind ofsleep, directing my squhjkl ulytz & uhrytzg ... no, it won't come out.Anyway, I grew overnight to the size of an average person here.     As I said before, floods of impressions are driving into my xzbyl ...my brain ... from various nerve and sense areas and I am having a hardtime classifying them. My one idea was to get to a chemist and acquirethe stuff needed for the destruction of these people.     Sunrise came as I expected. According to my catalog of information, theimpressions aroused by it are of beauty. It took little conditioningfor me finally to react in this manner. This is truly an efficientmechanism I inhabit.     I gazed about me at the mixture of lights, forms and impressions.It was strange and ... now I know ... beautiful. However, I hurriedimmediately toward the nearest chemist. At the same time I looked upand all about me at the beauty.     Soon an individual approached. I knew what to do from my information. Isimply acted natural. You know, one of your earliest instructions wasto realize that these people see nothing unusual in you if you do notlet yourself believe they do.     This individual I classified as a female of a singular variety here.Her hair was short, her upper torso clad in a woolen garment. Shewore ... what are they? ... oh, yes, sneakers. My attention wasdiverted by a scream as I passed her. I stopped.     The woman gesticulated and continued to scream. People hurried fromnearby houses. I linked my hands behind me and watched the scene withan attitude of mild interest. They weren't interested in me, I toldmyself. But they were.     I became alarmed, dived into a bush and used a mechanism that youunfortunately do not have—invisibility. I lay there and listened.     He was stark naked, the girl with the sneakers said.     A figure I recognized as a police officer spoke to her.     Lizzy, you'll just have to keep these crackpot friends of yours out ofthis area.     But—     No more buck-bathing, Lizzy, the officer ordered. No more speechesin the Square. Not when it results in riots at five in the morning. Nowwhere is your naked friend? I'm going to make an example of him.     That was it—I had forgotten clothes. There is only one answer to thisoversight on my part. My mind is confused by the barrage of impressionsthat assault it. I must retire now and get them all classified. Beauty,pain, fear, hate, love, laughter. I don't know one from the other. Imust feel each, become accustomed to it.     The more I think about it, the more I realize that the information Ihave been given is very unrealistic. You have been inefficient, Joe.What will Blgftury and the others say of this? My great mission isimpaired. Farewell, till I find a more intelligent mind so I can writeyou with more enlightenment.     Glmpauszn  <doc-sep>Breakfast was finally over and the rest of my family dispersed to theirvarious jobs. Father simply took his briefcase and disappeared—he wasa traveling salesman and he had a morning appointment clear across thecontinent. The others, not having his particular gift, had to takethe helibus to their different destinations. Mother, as I said, was apsychiatrist. Sylvia wrote advertising copy. Tim was a meteorologist.Dan was a junior executive in a furniture moving company and expected apromotion to senior rank as soon as he achieved a better mental grip onpianos.     Only I had no job, no profession, no place in life. Of course therewere certain menial tasks a psi-negative could perform, but my parentswould have none of them—partly for my sake, but mostly for the sake oftheir own community standing.     We don't need what little money Kev could bring in, my father alwayssaid. I can afford to support my family. He can stay home and takecare of the house.     And that's what I did. Not that there was much to do except call atechno whenever one of the servomechanisms missed a beat. True enough,those things had to be watched mighty carefully because, if they brokedown, it sometimes took days before the repair and/or replacementrobots could come. There never were enough of them because ours was aconstructive society. Still, being a machine-sitter isn't very much ofa career. And every function that wasn't the prerogative of a machinecould be done ten times more quickly and efficiently by some member ofmy family than I could do it. If I went ahead and did something anyway,they would just do it all over again when they got home.     So I had nothing to do all day. I had a special dispensation totake books out of the local Archives, because I was a deficient andcouldn't receive the tellie programs. Almost everybody on Earth wastelepathic to some degree and could get the amplified projections evenif he couldn't transmit or receive with his natural powers. But I gotnothing. I had to derive all my recreation from reading, and you canget awfully tired of books, especially when they're all at least ahundred years old and written by primitives. I could borrow soundtapes, but they also bored me after a while.     I thought maybe I could develop a talent for composing or painting,which would classify me as a telesensitive—artistic ability beingconsidered as the oldest, if least important, psi power—but I couldn'teven do anything like that.     About all there was left for me was to take long walks. Athletics wereout of the question; I couldn't compete with psi-boys and they didn'twant to compete with me. All the people in the neighborhood knew meand were nice to me, but I didn't need to be a 'path to tell what theywere saying to one another when I hove into sight. There's that oldestFaraday boy. Pity, such a talented family, to have a defective.       I didn't have a girl, either. Although some of them were sort ofattracted to me—I could see that—they could hardly go out with mewithout exposing themselves to ridicule. In their sandals, I would havedone the same thing, but that didn't stop me from hating them.  <doc-sep>He almost squeezed my arm when I got to the time Mom and Pop were blownup in a surfacing boat.     Well, after the funeral, there was a little money, so Sis decided wemight as well use it to migrate. There was no future for her on Earth,she figured. You know, the three-out-of-four.     How's that?     The three-out-of-four. No more than three women out of every four onEarth can expect to find husbands. Not enough men to go around. Wayback in the Twentieth Century, it began to be felt, Sis says, what withthe wars and all. Then the wars went on and a lot more men began to dieor get no good from the radioactivity. Then the best men went to theplanets, Sis says, until by now even if a woman can scrounge a personalhusband, he's not much to boast about.     The stranger nodded violently. Not on Earth, he isn't. Those busybodyanura make sure of that. What a place! Suffering gridniks, I had abellyful!     He told me about it. Women were scarce on Venus, and he hadn't beenable to find any who were willing to come out to his lonely littleislands; he had decided to go to Earth where there was supposed to be asurplus. Naturally, having been born and brought up on a very primitiveplanet, he didn't know it's a woman's world, like the older boys inschool used to say.     The moment he landed on Earth he was in trouble. He didn't know he hadto register at a government-operated hotel for transient males; hethrew a bartender through a thick plastic window for saying somethingnasty about the length of his hair; and      imagine     !—he not onlyresisted arrest, resulting in three hospitalized policemen, but hesassed the judge in open court!     Told me a man wasn't supposed to say anything except through femaleattorneys. Told      her     that where      I     came from, a man spoke his piecewhen he'd a mind to, and his woman walked by his side.     What happened? I asked breathlessly.     Oh, Guilty of This and Contempt of That. That blown-up brinosaur tookmy last munit for fines, then explained that she was remitting therest because I was a foreigner and uneducated. His eyes grew dark fora moment. He chuckled again. But I wasn't going to serve all thosefancy little prison sentences. Forcible Citizenship Indoctrination,they call it? Shook the dead-dry dust of the misbegotten, God forsakenmother world from my feet forever. The women on it deserve their men.My pockets were folded from the fines, and the paddlefeet were lookingfor me so close I didn't dare radio for more munit. So I stowed away.  <doc-sep>Until then, I'd managed somehow to keep the day's minor disasters fromruining my mood. Even while eating that horrible egg—I couldn't verywell throw it away, broken yolk or no; it was my breakfast allotmentand I was hungry—and while hurriedly jury-rigging drapery across thatgaspingly transparent window—one hundred and fifty-three storiesstraight down to slag—I kept going over and over my prepared proposalspeeches, trying to select the most effective one.     I had a Whimsical Approach: Honey, I see there's a nice littleNon-P apartment available up on one seventy-three. And I had aRomantic Approach: Darling, I can't live without you at the moment.Temporarily, I'm madly in love with you. I want to share my lifewith you for a while. Will you be provisionally mine? I even had aStraightforward Approach: Linda, I'm going to be needing a wife for atleast a year or two, and I can't think of anyone I would rather spendthat time with than you.     Actually, though I wouldn't even have admitted this to Linda, much lessto anyone else, I loved her in more than a Non-P way. But even if weboth had been genetically desirable (neither of us were) I knew thatLinda relished her freedom and independence too much to ever contractfor any kind of marriage other than Non-P—Non-Permanent, No Progeny.     So I rehearsed my various approaches, realizing that when the timecame I would probably be so tongue-tied I'd be capable of no morethan a blurted, Will you marry me? and I struggled with zippers andmalfunctioning air-cons, and I managed somehow to leave the apartmentat five minutes to ten.     Linda lived down on the hundred fortieth floor, thirteen stories away.It never took more than two or three minutes to get to her place, so Iwas giving myself plenty of time.     But then the elevator didn't come.     I pushed the button, waited, and nothing happened. I couldn'tunderstand it.     The elevator had always arrived before, within thirty seconds ofthe button being pushed. This was a local stop, with an elevatorthat traveled between the hundred thirty-third floor and the hundredsixty-seventh floor, where it was possible to make connections foreither the next local or for the express. So it couldn't be more thantwenty stories away. And this was a non-rush hour.     I pushed the button again, and then I waited some more. I looked at mywatch and it was three minutes to ten. Two minutes, and no elevator! Ifit didn't arrive this instant, this second, I would be late.     It didn't arrive.     I vacillated, not knowing what to do next. Stay, hoping the elevatorwould come after all? Or hurry back to the apartment and call Linda, togive her advance warning that I would be late?     Ten more seconds, and still no elevator. I chose the secondalternative, raced back down the hall, and thumbed my way into myapartment. I dialed Linda's number, and the screen lit up with whiteletters on black: PRIVACY DISCONNECTION.     Of course! Linda expected me at any moment. And she knew what I wantedto say to her, so quite naturally she had disconnected the phone, tokeep us from being interrupted.     Frantic, I dashed from the apartment again, back down the hall to theelevator, and leaned on that blasted button with all my weight. Even ifthe elevator should arrive right now, I would still be almost a minutelate.     No matter. It didn't arrive.     I would have been in a howling rage anyway, but this impossibilitypiled on top of all the other annoyances and breakdowns of the daywas just too much. I went into a frenzy, and kicked the elevator doorthree times before I realized I was hurting myself more than I washurting the door. I limped back to the apartment, fuming, slammed thedoor behind me, grabbed the phone book and looked up the number ofthe Transit Staff. I dialed, prepared to register a complaint so loudthey'd be able to hear me in sub-basement three.     I got some more letters that spelled: BUSY.  <doc-sep>I listened to the harsh, erratic sound and my voice was weak bycomparison: Calling Lunar City.     Static! Kane echoed my thoughts. His frown made deep clefts betweenhis eyebrows. There's no static between inter-lunar radio!     Verana's voice was small and frightened. That sounds like the staticwe hear over the bigger radios when we broadcast to Earth.     It does, Marie agreed.     But we wouldn't have that kind of static over      our     radio, unless—Verana's eyes widened until the pupils were surrounded by circles ofwhite—unless we were in outer space!     We stared at the metal door that had imprisoned us, afraid even tospeak of our fantastic suspicion.     I deactivated my radio.     Marie screamed as an inner door opened to disclose a long, narrowcorridor beyond.     Simultaneous with the opening of the second door, I felt air pressagainst my spacesuit. Before, our suits had been puffed outward by thepressure of air inside. Now our spacesuits were slack and dangling onour bodies.     We looked at each other and then at the inviting corridor beyond theopen door.     We went single file, first Kane, then his wife Marie. Verana followednext and I was the last.     We walked slowly, examining the strange construction. The walls werefeatureless but still seemed alien. At various places on the walls werethe outlines of doors without handles or locks.     Kane pressed his shoulder against a door and shoved. The door wasunyielding.     I manipulated the air-vent controls of my spacesuit, allowed a smallamount of the corridor's air into my helmet and inhaled cautiously.It smelled all right. I waited and nothing happened. Gradually, Iincreased the intake, turned off the oxygenating machines and removedmy helmet.     Shut off your oxy, I suggested. We might as well breathe the air inthis place and save our supply. We may need the oxygen in our suitslater.     They saw that I had removed my helmet and was still alive and one byone removed their own helmets.  <doc-sep>As Celeste and Theodor entered the committee room, Rosalind Wolver—aglitter of platinum against darkness—came in through the oppositedoor and softly shut it behind her. Frieda, a fair woman in blue robes,got up from the round table.     Celeste turned away with outward casualness as Theodor kissed his twoother wives. She was pleased to note that Edmund seemed impatient too.A figure in close-fitting black, unrelieved except for two red arrowsat the collar, he struck her as embodying very properly the serious,fateful temper of the moment.     He took two briefcases from his vest pocket and tossed them down on thetable beside one of the microfilm projectors.     I suggest we get started without waiting for Ivan, he said.     Frieda frowned anxiously. It's ten minutes since he phoned from theDeep Space Bar to say he was starting right away. And that's hardly atwo minutes walk.     Rosalind instantly started toward the outside door.     I'll check, she explained. Oh, Frieda, I've set the mike so you'llhear if Dotty calls.     Edmund threw up his hands. Very well, then, he said and walked over,switched on the picture and stared out moodily.     Theodor and Frieda got out their briefcases, switched on projectors,and began silently checking through their material.     Celeste fiddled with the TV and got a newscast. But she found her eyesdidn't want to absorb the blocks of print that rather swiftly succeededeach other, so, after a few moments, she shrugged impatiently andswitched to audio.     At the noise, the others looked around at her with surprise and someirritation, but in a few moments they were also listening.     The two rocket ships sent out from Mars Base to explore the orbitalpositions of Phobos and Deimos—that is, the volume of space they'd beoccupying if their positions had remained normal—report finding massesof dust and larger debris. The two masses of fine debris are movingin the same orbits and at the same velocities as the two vanishedmoons, and occupy roughly the same volumes of space, though the massof material is hardly a hundredth that of the moons. Physicists haveventured no statements as to whether this constitutes a confirmation ofthe Disintegration Hypothesis.     However, we're mighty pleased at this news here. There's a markedlessening of tension. The finding of the debris—solid, tangiblestuff—seems to lift the whole affair out of the supernatural miasma inwhich some of us have been tempted to plunge it. One-hundredth of themoons has been found.     The rest will also be!     Edmund had turned his back on the window. Frieda and Theodor hadswitched off their projectors.     Meanwhile, Earthlings are going about their business with a minimumof commotion, meeting with considerable calm the strange threat tothe fabric of their Solar System. Many, of course, are assembled inchurches and humanist temples. Kometevskyites have staged helicopterprocessions at Washington, Peking, Pretoria, and Christiana, demandingthat instant preparations be made for—and I quote—'Earth's comingleap through space.' They have also formally challenged all astronomersto produce an explanation other than the one contained in that strangebook so recently conjured from oblivion,      The Dance of the Planets     .     That about winds up the story for the present. There are no newreports from Interplanetary Radar, Astronomy, or the other rocket shipssearching in the extended Mars volume. Nor have any statements beenissued by the various groups working on the problem in Astrophysics,Cosmic Ecology, the Congress for the Discovery of New Purposes, and soforth. Meanwhile, however, we can take courage from the words of a poemwritten even before Dr. Kometevsky's book:   This Earth is not the steadfast place We landsmen build upon; From deep to deep she varies pace, And while she comes is gone. Beneath my feet I feel Her smooth bulk heave and dip; With velvet plunge and soft upreel She swings and steadies to her keel Like a gallant, gallant ship. <doc-sep>You have done well, announced Torp when Thig had completed his reporton the resources and temperatures of various sections of Terra. We nowhave located three worlds fit for colonization and so we will return toOrtha at once.     I will recommend the conquest of this planet, 72-P-3 at once and thecomplete destruction of all biped life upon it. The mental aberrationsof the barbaric natives might lead to endless complications if theywere permitted to exist outside our ordered way of life. I imagine thatthree circuits of the planet about its primary should prove sufficientfor the purposes of complete liquidation.     But why, asked Thig slowly, could we not disarm all the natives andexile them on one of the less desirable continents, Antarctica forexample or Siberia? They are primitive humans even as our race was oncea race of primitives. It is not our duty to help to attain our owndegree of knowledge and comfort?     Only the good of the Horde matters! shouted Torp angrily. Shall arace of feeble-witted beasts, such as these Earthmen, stand in the wayof a superior race? We want their world, and so we will take it. TheLaw of the Horde states that all the universe is ours for the taking.     Let us get back to Ortha at once, then, gritted out Thig savagely.Never again do I wish to set foot upon the soil of this mad planet.There are forces at work upon Earth that we of Ortha have longforgotten.     Check the blood of Thig for disease, Kam, ordered Torp shortly. Hiswords are highly irrational. Some form of fever perhaps native to thisworld. While you examine him I will blast off for Ortha.     Thig followed Kam into the tiny laboratory and found a seat beside thesquat scientist's desk. His eyes roamed over the familiar instrumentsand gauges, each in its own precise position in the cases along thewalls. His gaze lingered longest on the stubby black ugliness ofa decomposition blaster in its rack close to the deck. A blast ofthe invisible radiations from that weapon's hot throat and flesh orvegetable fiber rotted into flaky ashes.     The ship trembled beneath their feet; it tore free from the feebleclutch of the sand about it, and they were rocketing skyward. Thig'sbroad fingers bit deep into the unyielding metal of his chair. Suddenlyhe knew that he must go back to Earth, back to Ellen and the childrenof the man he had helped destroy. He loved Ellen, and nothing muststand between them! The Hordes of Ortha must find some other world, anempty world—this planet was not for them.     Turn back! he cried wildly. I must go back to Earth. There is awoman there, helpless and alone, who needs me! The Horde does not needthis planet.     Kam eyed him coldly and lifted a shining hypodermic syringe from itscase. He approached Thig warily, aware that disease often made a maniacof the finest members of the Horde.     No human being is more important than the Horde, he stated baldly.This woman of whom you speak is merely one unit of the millions wemust eliminate for the good of the Horde.     Then it was that Thig went berserk. His fists slashed into the thickjaw of the scientist and his fingers ripped at the hard cords overlyingthe Orthan's vital throat tubes. His fingers and thumb gouged deep intoKam's startled throat and choked off any cry for assistance before itcould be uttered.     Kam's hand swept down to the holster swung from his intricate harnessand dragged his blaster from it. Thig's other hand clamped over his andfor long moments they swayed there, locked together in silent deadlystruggle. The fate of a world hung in the balance as Kam's other handfought against that lone arm of Thig.  <doc-sep>   HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS     By JIM HARMON     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Every lonely man tries to make friends.     Manet just didn't know when to stop!      William Manet was alone.     In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It wouldgive him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlateloneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take himto start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to beginteaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminablelectures to a bored and captive audience of one.     He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whetherit was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and asdirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal andthink more like a god than any man for generations.     But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearingbore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.     Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was alreadytalking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he hadcut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up andwinked at it whenever he passed that way.     Lately she was winking back at him.     Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh fromhis arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.     No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manetcould only be this lonely on Mars.     Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.     All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middleof the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat,flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in theblack sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moonsand one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The wholegimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one wasneeded here—no human being, at least.     The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn'ttake much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefullyspecified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycombMars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.     They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated peoplefor the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going toisolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manetand his fellows.     The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fareto Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuterservice for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodationsfor couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren'tproviding fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits betweenthe various Overseers. They weren't very providential.     But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offeredwonderful opportunities.     It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship makinga tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning asbright as envy.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What are the various societal expectations placed on women?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you describe any peculiar occurrences in THE GIRLS FROM EARTH? [SEP] <s>He turned back to the window. And all because a pirate named DevilGarrett built a vast power plant to use to garner more power!     You know, Anne, as a mockery, and a warning, I think I'll propose thatthis planet be officially named ... 'Garrett'!     She looked up at him, and there was laughter bright in her eyes, andtugging at her mouth. Yes, there ought to be a reason, she murmured.Star wavered. She was so darn close.     After a minute, she turned her head, and looked up at him. Star, howsoon will there be those gardens and woods you described? I mean,how long before Garrett can be turned into that kind of world youdescribed?     Why ... under pressure, we can do it in six months. Why?     Not half quick enough, she murmured happily, but it'll have to do,Star. Laughing, she turned her face up to his. Have you ever thoughtthat planet Garrett will be wonderful for a honeymoon?   <doc-sep>Chip stared at his friend bewilderedly for a moment. Then he grinned.Hey—I must be getting slightly whacky in my old age. I stand herewith an unopened bottle in my hands and hear things! For a minute Ithought you said 'Lorelei.' The Lorelei, my space-cop friend, is amyth. An old Teutonic myth about a beautiful damsel who sits out inthe middle of a sea on a treacherous rock, combing her golden locks,warbling and luring her fascinated admirers to destruction.     He grunted. A dirty trick, if you ask me. Catch a snort of thisalleged Scotch, pal, and I'll torture your eardrums with the whole, sadstory. He started to sing. '      Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten     —'     The Patrolman laid a hand on his arm, silenced him.     It's not funny, Chip. You've described the Lorelei exactly. That'show she got her name. An incredibly beautiful woman who wantonly luresspace-mariners to their death.     The only difference is that her 'rock' is an asteroid somewhere inthe Belt—and she does not sing, she calls! She began exercisingher vicious appeal about two months ago, Earth reckoning. Sincethen, no less than a dozen spacecraft—freighters, liners, even onePatrolship—have fallen prey to her wiles. Their crews have beenbrutally murdered, their cargos stolen.     Wait a minute! interrupted Chip shrewdly. How do you know about herif the crews have been murdered?     She has a habit of locking the controls, explained Haldane, andsetting ravaged ships adrift. Apparently there is no room on herhideout—wherever it is—for empty hulks. One of these ships wassalvaged by a courageous cabin-boy who hid from the Lorelei and herpirate band beneath a closetful of soiled linens in the laundry. Hedescribed her. His description goes perfectly with less accurateglimpses seen over the visiphones of several score spacecraft!     Chip said soberly, So it's no joke, eh, pal? Sorry I popped off. Ithought you were pulling my leg. Where do      I     come into this mess,though?     Ekalastron! grunted Johnny succinctly. A jackpot prize for anycorsair! And you      advertised     a cargo of it over the etherwaves! TheLorelei will be waiting for you with her tongue hanging out. The onlything for you to do, kid, is go back to Jupiter or Io as fast as youcan get there. Make the Patrol give you a convoy—     A sudden light danced in Chip Warren's eyes. It was a light Syd Palmerwould have groaned to see—for it usually presaged trouble. It was abright, hard, reckless light.     Hold your jets, Johnny! drawled Chip. Aren't you forgetting onething? In a couple more hours, I can face the Lorelei and her wholemob—and be damned to them! She can't touch the      Chickadee     , becauseit's being plated right now!     Haldane snapped his fingers in quick remembrance.     By thunder, you're right! Her shells will ricochet off the      Chickadee's     hull like hail off a tin roof. Chip, are you in any hurryto reach Earth? I thought not. What do you say we go after the Lorelei      together     ! I'll swear you in as a Deputy Patrolman; we'll take the      Chickadee     and—     It's a deal! declared Chip promptly. You got any idea where thisLorelei's hangout is?     That's why I'm here on Danae. I got a tip that one of the Lorelei'smen put in here for supplies. I hoped maybe I could single himout somehow, follow him when he jetted for his base, and in thatway—      Chip! Look out!       <doc-sep>Numbering and Identity wasn't hard to find. I took the shaft to theproper level and then it was only a walk of a few hundred yards throughthe glowlit corridors.     N. & I. turned out to be a big room, somewhat circular, veryhigh-ceilinged, with banks of cyb controls covering the upper walls.Narrow passageways, like spokes, led off in several directions. Therewas an information desk in the center of the room.     I looked that way and my heart went into free fall.     There was a girl at the information desk. An exceptionally attractivegirl. She was well within the limits of acceptable standard, and herfeatures were even enough, and her hair a middle blonde—but she hadsomething else. Hard to describe. It was a warmth, a buoyancy, a senseof life and intense animation. It didn't exactly show; it radiated. Itseemed to sing out from her clear complexion, from her figure, whicheven a tunic could not hide, from everything about her.     And if I were to state my business, I would have to tell her my name.     I almost backed out right then. I stopped momentarily. And then commonsense took hold and I realized that if I were to go through with thisthing, here would be only the first of a long series of embarrassmentsand discomforts. It had to be done.     I walked up to the desk and the girl turned to face me, and I couldhave sworn that a faint smile crossed her lips. It was swift, like theshadow of a bird across one of the lawns in one of the great parkstopside. Very non-standard. Yet I wasn't offended; if anything, I feltsuddenly and disturbingly pleased.     What information is desired? she asked. Her voice was standard—orwas it?     Again I had the feeling of restrained warmth.     I used colloquial. I want to get the dope on State Serialdesignations, how they're assigned and so forth. Especially how theymight be changed.     She put a handsteno on the desk top and said, Name? Address? Post?     I froze. I stood there and stared at her.     She looked up and said, Well?     I—er—no post at present. N/P status.     Her fingers moved on the steno.     I gave her my address and she recorded that.     Then I paused again.     She said, And your name?     I took a deep breath and told her.     I didn't want to look into her eyes. I wanted to look away, but Icouldn't find a decent excuse to. I saw her eyes become wide andnoticed for the first time that they were a warm gray, almost a mousecolor. I felt like laughing at that irrelevant observation, but morethan that I felt like turning and running. I felt like climbing anddashing all over the walls like a frustrated cat and yelling at thetop of my lungs. I felt like anything but standing there and lookingstupid, meeting her stare—  <doc-sep>It was a long mile, even at the pace human muscles could achieve onGanymede. They took one short rest, during which Tolliver was forcedto explain away the dangers of slides and volcanic puffballs. Headmitted to having exaggerated slightly. In the end, they reached thespaceship.     There seemed to be no one about. The landing dome had been collapsedand stored, and the ship's airlock port was closed.     That's all right, Tolliver told the girl. We can get in with notrouble.     It was when he looked about to make sure that they were unobserved thathe caught a glimpse of motion back toward the city. He peered at thespot through the dim light. After a moment, he definitely recognizedthe outline of a tractor breasting a rise in the ground and tiltingdownward again.     In fact, we      have     to get in to stay out of trouble, he said to Betty.     He located the switch-cover in the hull, opened it and activated themechanism that swung open the airlock and extended the ladder.     It took him considerable scrambling to boost the girl up the ladder andinside, but he managed. They passed through the airlock, fretting atthe time required to seal, pump air and open the inner hatch; and thenTolliver led the way up another ladder to the control room. It was aclumsy trip in their spacesuits, but he wanted to save time.       In the control room, he shoved the girl into an acceleration seat,glanced at the gauges and showed her how to open her helmet.     Leave the suit on, he ordered, getting in the first word while shewas still shaking her head. It will help a little on the takeoff.     Takeoff! shrilled Betty. What do you think you're going to do? Ijust want to use the radio or TV!     That tractor will get here in a minute or two. They might cut yourconversation kind of short. Now shut up and let me look over thesedials!     He ran a practiced eye over the board, reading the condition of theship. It pleased him. Everything was ready for a takeoff into aneconomy orbit for Earth. He busied himself making a few adjustments,doing his best to ignore the protests from his partner in crime. Hewarned her the trip might be long.     I told you not to come, he said at last. Now sit back!     He sat down and pushed a button to start the igniting process.     In a moment, he could feel the rumble of the rockets through the deck,and then it was out of his hands for several minutes.     That wasn't so bad, Betty admitted some time later. Did you go inthe right direction?     Who knows? retorted Tolliver. There wasn't time to check      everything     . We'll worry about that after we make your call.     Oh! Betty looked helpless. It's in my pocket.     Tolliver sighed. In their weightless state, it was no easy task to pryher out of the spacesuit. He thought of inquiring if she needed anyfurther help, but reminded himself that this was the boss's daughter.When Betty produced a memo giving frequency and call sign, he set aboutmaking contact.     It took only a few minutes, as if the channel had been monitoredexpectantly, and the man who flickered into life on the screen wore auniform.     Space Patrol? whispered Tolliver incredulously.     That's right, said Betty. Uh ... Daddy made arrangements for me.     Tolliver held her in front of the screen so she would not float outof range of the scanner and microphone. As she spoke, he staredexasperatedly at a bulkhead, marveling at the influence of a man whocould arrange for a cruiser to escort his daughter to Ganymede andwondering what was behind it all.     When he heard Betty requesting assistance in arresting Jeffers andreporting the manager as the head of a ring of crooks, he began tosuspect. He also noticed certain peculiarities about the remarks of thePatrolman.  <doc-sep>Sacramento, Calif.     July 25     Dear Joe:     All is lost unless we work swiftly. I received your revealing letterthe morning after having a terrible experience of my own. I drank alot of gin for two days and then decided to go to one of these seancethings.     Somewhere along the way I picked up a red-headed girl. When we gotto the darkened seance room, I took the redhead into a corner andcontinued my investigations into the realm of love. I failed againbecause she said yes immediately.     The nerves of my dermis were working overtime when suddenly I had themost frightening experience of my life. Now I know what a horror thesepeople really are to our world.     The medium had turned out all the lights. He said there was a strongpsychic influence in the room somewhere. That was me, of course, but Iwas too busy with the redhead to notice.     Anyway, Mrs. Somebody wanted to make contact with her paternalgrandmother, Lucy, from the beyond. The medium went into his act. Heconcentrated and sweated and suddenly something began to take form inthe room. The best way to describe it in not-world language is a white,shapeless cascade of light.     Mrs. Somebody reared to her feet and screeched, Grandma Lucy! Then Ireally took notice.     Grandma Lucy, nothing! This medium had actually brought Blgfturypartially across the vibration barrier. He must have been vibrating inthe fringe area and got caught in the works. Did he look mad! His zyhkuwas open and his btgrimms were down.     Worst of all, he saw me. Looked right at me with an unbelievablepattern of pain, anger, fear and amazement in his matrix. Me and theredhead.     Then comes your letter today telling of the fate that befell you as aresult of drinking alcohol. Our wrenchingly attuned faculties in thesenot-world bodies need the loathsome drug to escape from the realityof not-reality. It's true. I cannot do without it now. The day is onlyhalf over and I have consumed a quart and a half. And it is dulling allmy powers as it has practically obliterated yours. I can't even becomeinvisible any more.     I must find the formula that will wipe out the not-world men quickly.     Quickly!     Glmpauszn  <doc-sep>Doran whistled. I got to give your people credit for enterprise,anyway! He fingered his mustache. Uh, pardon me, but have you triedto, well, attract capital from Earth?     Of course, said Matheny bitterly. We offer the most liberalconcessions in the Solar System. Any little mining company or transportfirm or—or anybody—who wanted to come and actually invest a fewdollars in Mars—why, we'd probably give him the President's daughteras security. No, the Minister of Ecology has a better-looking one.But who's interested? We haven't a thing that Earth hasn't got moreof. We're only the descendants of a few scientists, a few politicalmalcontents, oddballs who happen to prefer elbow room and a bill ofliberties to the incorporated state—what could General Nucleonicshope to get from Mars?     I see. Well, what are you having to drink?     Beer, said Matheny without hesitation.     Huh? Look, pal, this is on me.     The only beer on Mars comes forty million miles, with interplanetaryfreight charges tacked on, said Matheny. Heineken's!     Doran shrugged, dialed the dispenser and fed it coins.     This is a real interesting talk, Pete, he said. You are being veryfrank with me. I like a man that is frank.     Matheny shrugged. I haven't told you anything that isn't known toevery economist.       Of course I haven't. I've not so much as mentioned the Red Ankh, forinstance. But, in principle, I have told him the truth, told him of ourneed; for even the secret operations do not yield us enough.       The beer arrived. Matheny engulfed himself in it. Doran sipped at awhiskey sour and unobtrusively set another full bottle in front of theMartian.     Ahhh! said Matheny. Bless you, my friend.     A pleasure.     But now you must let me buy you one.     That is not necessary. After all, said Doran with great tact, withthe situation as you have been describing—     Oh, we're not      that     poor! My expense allowance assumes I willentertain quite a bit.     Doran's brows lifted a few minutes of arc. You're here on business,then?     Yes. I told you we haven't any tourists. I was sent to hire a businessmanager for the Martian export trade.     What's wrong with your own people? I mean, Pete, it is not your faultthere are so many rackets—uh, taxes—and middlemen and agencies and etcetera. That is just the way Earth is set up these days.  <doc-sep>He was still thinking about temperature and humidity when a pretty girlhappened along with something in her eye. They collided. She got hisright and left jacket pockets. It was much too much for coincidence.The sidewalk was wide enough to allow four people to pass at one time.He should surely have become suspicious when two men engaged in aheated argument came along. In the ensuing contretemps they emptied hisrear pants pockets, got his wristwatch and restored the contents of thehandkerchief pocket. It all went off very smoothly, like a game of putand take—the sole difference being that Humphrey Fownes had no idea hewas playing.     There was an occasional tinkle of falling glass.     It fell on the streets and houses, making small geysers of shiny mist,hitting with a gentle musical sound, like the ephemeral droppings ofa celesta. It was precipitation peculiar to a dome: feather-lightfragments showering harmlessly on the city from time to time. Domeweevils, their metal arms reaching out with molten glass, roamed thehuge casserole, ceaselessly patching and repairing.     Humphrey Fownes strode through the puffs of falling glass stillintrigued by a temperature that was always 59 degrees, by a humiditythat was always 47%, by weather that was always Optimum. It was thisrather than skill that enabled the police to maintain such a tightsurveillance on him, a surveillance that went to the extent of gettinghis fingerprints off the postman's bag, and which photographed, X-rayedand chemically analyzed the contents of his pockets before returningthem. Two blocks away from his home a careless housewife spilled afive-pound bag of flour as he was passing. It was really plaster ofParis. He left his shoe prints, stride measurement, height, weight andhandedness behind.     By the time Fownes reached his front door an entire dossier completewith photographs had been prepared and was being read by two men in anorange patrol car parked down the street.  <doc-sep>The name of your planet is Earth? the Ruler asked. A few minutes hadpassed; the experts were clustered around the single chair. Korvin wasstill strapped to the machine; a logical race makes use of a traitor,but a logical race does not trust him.     Sometimes, Korvin said.     It has other names? the Ruler said.     It has no name, Korvin said truthfully. The Tr'en idiom was like theEarthly one; and certainly a planet had no name. People attached namesto it, that was all. It had none of its own.     Yet you call it Earth? the Ruler said.     I do, Korvin said, for convenience.     Do you know its location? the Ruler said.     Not with exactitude, Korvin said.     There was a stir. But you can find it again, the Ruler said.     I can, Korvin said.     And you will tell us about it? the Ruler went on.     I will, Korvin said, so far as I am able.     We will wish to know about weapons, the Ruler said, and about plansand fortifications. But we must first know of the manner of decisionon this planet. Is your planet joined with others in a government ordoes it exist alone?     Korvin nearly smiled. Both, he said.     A short silence was broken by one of the attendant experts. We havetheorized that an underling may be permitted to make some of his owndecisions, leaving only the more extensive ones for the master. Thisseems to us inefficient and liable to error, yet it is a possiblesystem. Is it the system you mean?     Very sharp, Korvin told himself grimly. It is, he said.     Then the government which reigns over several planets is supreme,the Ruler said.     It is, Korvin said.     Who is it that governs? the Ruler said.     The key question had, at last, been asked. Korvin felt grateful thatthe logical Tr'en had determined to begin from the beginning, insteadof going off after details of armament first; it saved a lot of time.     The answer to that question, Korvin said, cannot be given to you.     Any question of fact has an answer, the Ruler snapped. A paradox isnot involved here; a government exists, and some being is thegovernor. Perhaps several beings share this task; perhaps machines dothe work. But where there is a government, there is a governor. Isthis agreed?     Certainly, Korvin said. It is completely obvious and true.     The planet from which you come is part of a system of planets whichare governed, you have said, the Ruler went on.     True, Korvin said.     Then there is a governor for this system, the Ruler said.     True, Korvin said again.     The ruler sighed gently. Explain this governor to us, he said.     Korvin shrugged. The explanation cannot be given to you.     The Ruler turned to a group of his experts and a short mutteredconversation took place. At its end the Ruler turned his gaze back toKorvin. Is the deficiency in you? he said. Are you in some wayunable to describe this government?     It can be described, Korvin said.     Then you will suffer unpleasant consequences if you describe it tous? the Ruler went on.     I will not, Korvin said.     It was the signal for another conference. With some satisfaction,Korvin noticed that the Tr'en were becoming slightly puzzled; theywere no longer moving and speaking with calm assurance.     The plan was taking hold.     The Ruler had finished his conference. You are attempting again toconfuse us, he said.     Korvin shook his head earnestly. I am attempting, he said, not toconfuse you.     Then I ask for an answer, the Ruler said.     I request that I be allowed to ask a question, Korvin said.     The Ruler hesitated, then nodded. Ask it, he said. We shall answerit if we see fit to do so.     Korvin tried to look grateful. Well, then, he said, what is yourgovernment?     The Ruler beckoned to a heavy-set green being, who stepped forwardfrom a knot of Tr'en, inclined his head in Korvin's direction, andbegan. Our government is the only logical form of government, hesaid in a high, sweet tenor. The Ruler orders all, and his subjectsobey. In this way uniformity is gained, and this uniformity aids inthe speed of possible action and in the weight of action. All Tr'enact instantly in the same manner. The Ruler is adopted by the previousRuler; in this way we are assured of a common wisdom and a steadyjudgment.     You have heard our government defined, the Ruler said. Now, youwill define yours for us.     Korvin shook his head. If you insist, he said, I'll try it. But youwon't understand it.     The Ruler frowned. We shall understand, he said. Begin. Who governsyou?     None, Korvin said.     But you are governed?     Korvin nodded. Yes.     Then there is a governor, the Ruler insisted.     True, Korvin said. But everyone is the governor.     Then there is no government, the Ruler said. There is no singledecision.     No, Korvin said equably, there are many decisions binding on all.     Who makes them binding? the Ruler asked. Who forces you to acceptthese decisions? Some of them must be unfavorable to some beings?     Many of them are unfavorable, Korvin said. But we are not forced toaccept them.     Do you act against your own interests?     Korvin shrugged. Not knowingly, he said. The Ruler flashed a look atthe technicians handling the lie-detector. Korvin turned to see theirexpression. They needed no words; the lie-detector was telling them,perfectly obviously, that he was speaking the truth. But the truthwasn't making any sense. I told you you wouldn't understand it, hesaid.     It is a defect in your explanation, the Ruler almost snarled.     My explanation is as exact as it can be, he said.     The Ruler breathed gustily. Let us try something else, he said.Everyone is the governor. Do you share a single mind? A racial mindhas been theorized, though we have met with no examples—     Neither have we, Korvin said. We are all individuals, likeyourselves.     But with no single ruler to form policy, to make decisions—     We have no need of one, Korvin said calmly.     Ah, the Ruler said suddenly, as if he saw daylight ahead. And whynot?     We call our form of government      democracy     , Korvin said. It meansthe rule of the people. There is no need for another ruler.     One of the experts piped up suddenly. The beings themselves rule eachother? he said. This is clearly impossible; for, no one being canhave the force to compel acceptance of his commands. Without hisforce, there can be no effective rule.     That is our form of government, Korvin said.     You are lying, the expert said.     One of the technicians chimed in: The machine tells us—     Then the machine is faulty, the expert said. It will be corrected.     Korvin wondered, as the technicians argued, how long they'd takestudying the machine, before they realized it didn't have any defectsto correct. He hoped it wasn't going to be too long; he could foreseeanother stretch of boredom coming. And, besides, he was gettinghomesick.     It took three days—but boredom never really had a chance to set in.Korvin found himself the object of more attention than he had hopedfor; one by one, the experts came to his cell, each with a differentmethod of resolving the obvious contradictions in his statements.     Some of them went away fuming. Others simply went away, puzzled.     On the third day Korvin escaped.     It wasn't very difficult; he hadn't thought it would be. Even the mostlogical of thinking beings has a subconscious as well as a consciousmind, and one of the ways of dealing with an insoluble problem is tomake the problem disappear. There were only two ways of doing that,and killing the problem's main focus was a little more complicated.That couldn't be done by the subconscious mind; the conscious had tointervene somewhere. And it couldn't.     Because that would mean recognizing, fully and consciously, that theproblem      was     insoluble. And the Tr'en weren't capable of that sort ofthinking.     Korvin thanked his lucky stars that their genius had been restrictedto the physical and mathematical. Any insight at all into the mentalsciences would have given them the key to his existence, and hisentire plan, within seconds.     But, then, it was lack of that insight that had called for thisparticular plan. That, and the political structure of the Tr'en.     The same lack of insight let the Tr'en subconscious work on hisescape without any annoying distractions in the way of deepreflection. Someone left a door unlocked and a weapon nearby—allquite intent, Korvin was sure. Getting to the ship was a little morecomplicated, but presented no new problems; he was airborne, and thenspace-borne, inside of a few hours after leaving the cell.     He set his course, relaxed, and cleared his mind. He had no psionictalents, but the men at Earth Central did; he couldn't receivemessages, but he could send them. He sent one now.       Mission accomplished; the Tr'en aren't about to comemarauding out into space too soon. They've been given foodfor thought—nice indigestible food that's going to stick intheir craws until they finally manage to digest it. But theycan't digest it and stay what they are; you've got to bedemocratic, to some extent, to understand the idea. Whatkeeps us obeying laws we ourselves make? What keeps usobeying laws that make things inconvenient for us? Sheerself-interest, of course—but try to make a Tr'en see it!         With one government and one language, they just weren'tequipped for translation. They were too efficient physicallyto try for the mental sciences at all. No mental sciences,no insight into my mind or their own—and that means notranslation.         But—damn it—I wish I were home already.         I'm bored absolutely stiff!       THE END   <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you describe any peculiar occurrences in THE GIRLS FROM EARTH?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you tell me where the story of THE GIRLS FROM EARTH takes place? [SEP] <s>     Going straight meant crooked planning. He'd       never make it unless he somehow managed to       PICK A CRIME     By RICHARD R. SMITH     Illustrated by DICK FRANCIS     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction May 1958.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The girl was tall, wide-eyed and brunette. She had the right curves inthe right places and would have been beautiful if her nose had beensmaller, if her mouth had been larger and if her hair had been wavyinstead of straight.     Hank said you wanted to see me, she said when she stopped besideJoe's table.     Yeah. Joe nodded at the other chair. Have a seat. He reached into apocket, withdrew five ten-dollar bills and handed them to her. I wantyou to do a job for me. It'll only take a few minutes.     The girl counted the money, then placed it in her purse. Joe noticeda small counterfeit-detector inside the purse before she closed it.What's the job?     Tell you later. He gulped the remainder of his drink, almost pouringit down his throat.     Hey. You trying to make yourself sick?     Not sick. Drunk. Been trying to get drunk all afternoon. As theliquor settled in his stomach, he waited for the warm glow. But theglow didn't come ... the bartender had watered his drink again.     Trying to get drunk? the girl inquired. Are you crazy?     No. It's simple. If I get drunk, I can join the AAA and get free roomand board for a month while they give me a treatment.     It was easy enough to understand, he reflected, but a lot harder to do.The CPA robot bartenders saw to it that anyone got high if they wanted,but comparatively few got drunk. Each bartender could not only mixdrinks but could also judge by a man's actions and speech when he wason the verge of drunkenness. At the proper time—since drunkenness wasillegal—a bartender always watered the drinks.     Joe had tried dozens of times in dozens of bars to outsmart them, buthad always failed. And in all of New York's millions, there had beenonly a hundred cases of intoxication during the previous year.     The girl laughed. If you're that hard up, I don't know if I shouldtake this fifty or not. Why don't you go out and get a job likeeveryone else?     As an answer, Joe handed her his CPA ID card. She grunted when shesaw the large letters that indicated the owner had Dangerous CriminalTendencies.  <doc-sep>It didn't turn out that way. He was disappointed; but then again, he'dalso expected it. This entire first day at home had conditioned him toexpect nothing good. They went to the bowling alleys, and Phil soundedvery much the way he always had—soft spoken and full of laughter andfull of jokes. He patted Edith on the head the way he always had, andclapped Hank on the shoulder (but not the way he always had—so muchmore gently, almost remotely), and insisted they all drink more than wasgood for them as he always had. And for once, Hank was ready to go alongon the drinking. For once, he matched Phil shot for shot, beer for beer.     They didn't bowl very long. At ten o'clock they crossed the road toManfred's Tavern, where Phil and the girls ordered sandwiches and coffeeand Hank went right on drinking. Edith said something to him, but hemerely smiled and waved his hand and gulped another ounce of nirvana.     There was dancing to a juke box in Manfred's Tavern. He'd been theremany times before, and he was sure several of the couples recognizedhim. But except for a few abortive glances in his direction, it was asif he were a stranger in a city halfway around the world.     At midnight, he was still drinking. The others wanted to leave, but hesaid, I haven't danced with my girl Rhona. His tongue was thick, hismind was blurred, and yet he could read the strange expression on herface—pretty Rhona, who'd always flirted with him, who'd made a ritualof flirting with him. Pretty Rhona, who now looked as if she were goingto be sick.     So let's rock, he said and stood up.     They were on the dance floor. He held her close, and hummed and chatted.And through the alcoholic haze saw she was a stiff-smiled, stiff-bodied,mechanical dancing doll.     The number finished; they walked back to the booth. Phil said,Beddy-bye time.     Hank said, First one dance with my loving wife.     He and Edith danced. He didn't hold her close as he had Rhona. He waitedfor her to come close on her own, and she did, and yet she didn't.Because while she put herself against him, there was something in herface—no, in her eyes; it always showed in the eyes—that made him knowshe was trying to be the old Edith and not succeeding. This time whenthe music ended, he was ready to go home.     They rode back to town along Route Nine, he and Edith in the rear ofPhil's car, Rhona driving because Phil had drunk just a little too much,Phil singing and telling an occasional bad joke, and somehow not his oldself. No one was his old self. No one would ever be his old self withthe First One.     They turned left, to take the short cut along Hallowed Hill Road, andPhil finished a story about a Martian and a Hollywood sex queen andlooked at his wife and then past her at the long, cast-iron fenceparalleling the road. Hey, he said, pointing, do you know why that'sthe most popular place on earth?     Rhona glanced to the left, and so did Hank and Edith. Rhona made alittle sound, and Edith seemed to stop breathing, but Phil went on awhile longer, not yet aware of his supposed      faux pas     .     You know why? he repeated, turning to the back seat, the laughterrumbling up from his chest. You know why, folks?     Rhona said, Did you notice Carl Braken and his wife at—     Hank said, No, Phil, why is it the most popular place on earth?     Phil said, Because people are— And then he caught himself and wavedhis hand and muttered, I forgot the punch line.     Because people are dying to get in, Hank said, and looked through thewindow, past the iron fence, into the large cemetery at the fleetingtombstones.     The car was filled with horrified silence when there should have beennothing but laughter, or irritation at a too-old joke. Maybe you shouldlet me out right here, Hank said. I'm home—or that's what everyoneseems to think. Maybe I should lie down in an open grave. Maybe thatwould satisfy people. Maybe that's the only way to act, like Dracula oranother monster from the movies.     Edith said, Oh, Hank, don't, don't!     The car raced along the road, crossed a macadam highway, went fourblocks and pulled to a stop. He didn't bother saying good night. Hedidn't wait for Edith. He just got out and walked up the flagstone pathand entered the house.  <doc-sep>When the door slammed shut Roberds locked it. Peterson slumped in thechair.     Do you mean that, Chief? About taking the ship yourself?     True enough. Roberds cast an anxious glance at the partly closeddoor, lowered his voice. It'll cost me my job, but that girl in therehas to be taken to a hospital quickly! And it's her luck to be landedon a planet that doesn't boast even one! So it's Earth ... or shedies. I'd feel a lot better too if we could get Gladney to a hospital,I'm not too confident of that patching job. He pulled a pipe from ajacket pocket. So, might as well kill two birds with one stone ... andthat wasn't meant to be funny!     Peterson said nothing, sat watching the door.     Rat has the right idea, Roberds continued, but I had already thoughtof it. About the bunks and lockers. Greaseball has been out there allnight tearing them out. We just      might     be able to hop by dawn ... andhell of a long, grinding hop it will be!     The nurse came out of the door.     How is she? Roberds asked.     Sleeping, Gray whispered. But sinking....     We can take off at dawn, I think. He filled the pipe and didn't lookat her. You'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock.     I can take it. Suddenly she smiled, wanly. I was with the Fleet. Howlong will it take?     Eight days, in      that     ship.     Roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. He knew Petersonwas harboring the same thoughts. Eight days in space, in a small shipmeant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. Eight days inthat untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl andGladney.     Who was that ... man? The one you put out? Gray asked.     We call him Rat, Roberds said.     She didn't ask why. She said: Why couldn't he pilot the ship, I mean?What is his record?     Peterson opened his mouth.     Shut up, Peterson! the Chief snapped. We don't talk about his recordaround here, Miss Gray. It's not a pretty thing to tell.     Stow it, Chief, said Peterson. Miss Gray is no pantywaist. Heturned to the nurse. Ever hear of the Sansan massacre?     Patti Gray paled. Yes, she whispered. Was Rat in that?     Roberds shook his head. He didn't take part in it. But Rat wasattached to a very important office at the time, the outpost watch.And when Mad Barry Sansan and his gang of thugs swooped down on theGanymedean colony, there was no warning. Our friend Rat was AWOL.     As to who he is ... well, just one of those freaks from up aroundCentauria somewhere. He's been hanging around all the fields and dumpson Mars a long time, finally landed up here.     But, protested Miss Gray, I don't understand? I always thought thatleaving one's post under such circumstances meant execution.     The Chief Consul nodded. It does, usually. But this was a freak case.It would take hours to explain. However, I'll just sum it up in oneword: politics. Politics, with which Rat had no connection saved him.     The girl shook her head, more in sympathy than condemnation.     Are you expecting the others in soon? she asked. It wouldn't beright to leave Peterson.     They will be in, in a day or two. Peterson will beat it over to Basestation for repairs, and to notify Earth we're coming. He'll be allright.     Abruptly she stood up. Goodnight gentlemen. Call me if I'm needed.     Roberds nodded acknowledgement. The door to the side room closed behindher. Peterson hauled his chair over to the desk. He sniffed the air.     Damned rat! he whispered harshly. They ought to make a law forcinghim to wear dark glasses!     Roberds smiled wearily. His eyes do get a man, don't they?     I'd like to burn 'em out! Peterson snarled.  <doc-sep>For one thing, though the officer seemed well acquainted with Betty, henever addressed her by the name of Koslow. For another, he accepted therequest as if he had been hanging in orbit merely until learning who togo down after.       They really sent her out to nail someone     , Tolliver realized.      Ofcourse, she stumbled onto Jeffers by plain dumb luck. But she had anidea of what to look for. How do I get into these things? She mighthave got me killed!       We do have one trouble, he heard Betty saying. This tractor driver,Tolliver, saved my neck by making the ship take off somehow, but hesays it's set for a six-month orbit, or economy flight. Whatever theycall it. I don't think he has any idea where we're headed.     Tolliver pulled her back, holding her in mid-air by the slack of hersweater.     Actually, I have a fine idea, he informed the officer coldly. Ihappen to be a qualified space pilot. Everything here is under control.If Miss Koslow thinks you should arrest Jeffers, you can call us lateron this channel.     Miss Koslow? repeated the spacer. Did she tell you—well, no matter!If you'll be okay, we'll attend to the other affair immediately.     He signed off promptly. The pilot faced Betty, who looked more offendedthan reassured at discovering his status.     This 'Miss Koslow' business, he said suspiciously. He sounded funnyabout that.     The girl grinned.     Relax, Tolliver, she told him. Did you really believe Daddy wouldsend his own little girl way out here to Ganymede to look for whoeverwas gypping him?     You ... you...?     Sure. The name's Betty Hanlon. I work for a private investigatingfirm. If old Koslow had a son to impersonate—     I'd be stuck for six months in this orbit with some brash young man,Tolliver finished for her. I guess it's better this way, he saidmeditatively a moment later.     Oh, come      on     ! Can't they get us back? How can you tell where we'regoing?     I know enough to check takeoff time. It was practically due anyhow, sowe'll float into the vicinity of Earth at about the right time to bepicked up.     He went on to explain something of the tremendous cost in fuelnecessary to make more than minor corrections to their course. Eventhough the Patrol ship could easily catch the slow freighter, bringingalong enough fuel to head back would be something else again.     We'll just have to ride it out, he said sympathetically. The ship isprovisioned according to law, and you were probably going back anyhow.     I didn't expect to so soon.     Yeah, you were pretty lucky. They'll think you're a marvel to crackthe case in about three hours on Ganymede.     Great! muttered Betty. What a lucky girl I am!     Yes, admitted Tolliver, there      are     problems. If you like, we mightget the captain of that Patrol ship to legalize the situation by TV.     I can see you're used to sweeping girls off their feet, she commentedsourly.     The main problem is whether you can cook.     Betty frowned at him.     I'm pretty good with a pistol, she offered, or going over crookedbooks. But cook? Sorry.     Well, one of us had better learn, and I'll have other things to do.     I'll think about it, promised the girl, staring thoughtfully at thedeck.     Tolliver anchored himself in a seat and grinned as he thought about ittoo.       After a while     , he promised himself,      I'll explain how I cut the fuelflow and see if she's detective enough to suspect that we're justorbiting Ganymede!    <doc-sep>The lady drew herself up and jutted an indignant brow at him. Sir!This is a church!     Oh—I see—excuse me, I, I, I— Matheny backed out of the crowd,shuddering. He looked around for some place to hide his burning ears.     You forgot your chips, pal, said a voice.     Oh. Thanks. Thanks ever so much. I, I, that is— Matheny cursedhis knotting tongue.      Damn it, just because they're so much moresophisticated than I, do I have to talk like a leaky boiler?       The helpful Earthman was not tall. He was dark and chisel-faced andsleekly pomaded, dapper in blue pajamas with a red zigzag, a sleighbellcloak and curly-toed slippers.     You're from Mars, aren't you? he asked in the friendliest toneMatheny had yet heard.     Yes. Yes, I am. M-my name's Peter Matheny. I, I— He stuck out hishand to shake and chips rolled over the floor. Damn! Oh, excuse me, Iforgot this was a church. Never mind the chips. No, please. I just wantto g-g-get the hell out of here.     Good idea. How about a drink? I know a bar downshaft.     Matheny sighed. A drink is what I need the very most.     My name's Doran. Gus Doran. Call me Gus.     They walked back to the deaconette's booth and Matheny cashed whatremained of his winnings.     I don't want to—I mean if you're busy tonight, Mr. Doran—     Nah. I am not doing one thing in particular. Besides, I have never meta Martian. I am very interested.     There aren't many of us on Earth, agreed Matheny. Just a smallembassy staff and an occasional like me.     I should think you would do a lot of traveling here. The old motherplanet and so on.     We can't afford it, said Matheny. What with gravitation anddistance, such voyages are much too expensive for us to make them forpleasure. Not to mention our dollar shortage. As they entered theshaft, he added wistfully: You Earth people have that kind of money,at least in your more prosperous brackets. Why don't you send a fewtourists to us?     I always wanted to, said Doran. I would like to see the what theycall City of Time, and so on. As a matter of fact, I have given mygirl one of those Old Martian rings last Ike's Birthday and she wasjust gazoo about it. A jewel dug out of the City of Time, like,made a million years ago by a, uh, extinct race ... I tell you, she      appreciated     me for it! He winked and nudged.     Oh, said Matheny.  <doc-sep>Breakfast was finally over and the rest of my family dispersed to theirvarious jobs. Father simply took his briefcase and disappeared—he wasa traveling salesman and he had a morning appointment clear across thecontinent. The others, not having his particular gift, had to takethe helibus to their different destinations. Mother, as I said, was apsychiatrist. Sylvia wrote advertising copy. Tim was a meteorologist.Dan was a junior executive in a furniture moving company and expected apromotion to senior rank as soon as he achieved a better mental grip onpianos.     Only I had no job, no profession, no place in life. Of course therewere certain menial tasks a psi-negative could perform, but my parentswould have none of them—partly for my sake, but mostly for the sake oftheir own community standing.     We don't need what little money Kev could bring in, my father alwayssaid. I can afford to support my family. He can stay home and takecare of the house.     And that's what I did. Not that there was much to do except call atechno whenever one of the servomechanisms missed a beat. True enough,those things had to be watched mighty carefully because, if they brokedown, it sometimes took days before the repair and/or replacementrobots could come. There never were enough of them because ours was aconstructive society. Still, being a machine-sitter isn't very much ofa career. And every function that wasn't the prerogative of a machinecould be done ten times more quickly and efficiently by some member ofmy family than I could do it. If I went ahead and did something anyway,they would just do it all over again when they got home.     So I had nothing to do all day. I had a special dispensation totake books out of the local Archives, because I was a deficient andcouldn't receive the tellie programs. Almost everybody on Earth wastelepathic to some degree and could get the amplified projections evenif he couldn't transmit or receive with his natural powers. But I gotnothing. I had to derive all my recreation from reading, and you canget awfully tired of books, especially when they're all at least ahundred years old and written by primitives. I could borrow soundtapes, but they also bored me after a while.     I thought maybe I could develop a talent for composing or painting,which would classify me as a telesensitive—artistic ability beingconsidered as the oldest, if least important, psi power—but I couldn'teven do anything like that.     About all there was left for me was to take long walks. Athletics wereout of the question; I couldn't compete with psi-boys and they didn'twant to compete with me. All the people in the neighborhood knew meand were nice to me, but I didn't need to be a 'path to tell what theywere saying to one another when I hove into sight. There's that oldestFaraday boy. Pity, such a talented family, to have a defective.       I didn't have a girl, either. Although some of them were sort ofattracted to me—I could see that—they could hardly go out with mewithout exposing themselves to ridicule. In their sandals, I would havedone the same thing, but that didn't stop me from hating them.  <doc-sep>He could tell from their looks that the others did, but couldn't bringthemselves to put it into words.     I suppose it's the time-scale and the value-scale that are so hard forus to accept, he said softly. Much more, even, than the size-scale.The thought that there are creatures in the Universe to whom the wholecareer of Man—in fact, the whole career of life—is no more than a fewthousand or hundred thousand years. And to whom Man is no more than aminor stage property—a trifling part of a clever job of camouflage.     This time he went on, Fantasy writers have at times hinted all sortsof odd things about the Earth—that it might even be a kind of singleliving creature, or honeycombed with inhabited caverns, and so on.But I don't know that any of them have ever suggested that the Earth,together with all the planets and moons of the Solar System, mightbe....     In a whisper, Frieda finished for him, ... a camouflaged fleet ofgigantic spherical spaceships.           Your guess happens to be the precise truth.          At that familiar, yet dreadly unfamiliar voice, all four of them swungtoward the inner door. Dotty was standing there, a sleep-stupefiedlittle girl with a blanket caught up around her and dragging behind.Their own daughter. But in her eyes was a look from which they cringed.     She said, I am a creature somewhat older than what your geologistscall the Archeozoic Era. I am speaking to you through a number oftelepathically sensitive individuals among your kind. In each case mythoughts suit themselves to your level of comprehension. I inhabit thedisguised and jetless spaceship which is your Earth.     Celeste swayed a step forward. Baby.... she implored.     Dotty went on, without giving her a glance, It is true that we plantedthe seeds of life on some of these planets simply as part of ourcamouflage, just as we gave them a suitable environment for each. Andit is true that now we must let most of that life be destroyed. Ourhiding place has been discovered, our pursuers are upon us, and we mustmake one last effort to escape or do battle, since we firmly believethat the principle of mental privacy to which we have devoted ourexistence is perhaps the greatest good in the whole Universe.     But it is not true that we look with contempt upon you. Our whole raceis deeply devoted to life, wherever it may come into being, and it isour rule never to interfere with its development. That was one ofthe reasons we made life a part of our camouflage—it would make ourpursuers reluctant to examine these planets too closely.     Yes, we have always cherished you and watched your evolution withinterest from our hidden lairs. We may even unconsciously have shapedyour development in certain ways, trying constantly to educate you awayfrom war and finally succeeding—which may have given the betrayingclue to our pursuers.     Your planets must be burst asunder—this particular planet in thearea of the Pacific—so that we may have our last chance to escape.Even if we did not move, our pursuers would destroy you with us. Wecannot invite you inside our ships—not for lack of space, but becauseyou could never survive the vast accelerations to which you would besubjected. You would, you see, need very special accommodations, ofwhich we have enough only for a few.     Those few we will take with us, as the seed from which a new humanrace may—if we ourselves somehow survive—be born.  <doc-sep>I really haven't the time to waste talking irrelevancies, Swarts saida while later. Honestly. Maitland, I'm working against a time limit.If you'll cooperate, I'll tell Ching to answer your questions.'     Ching?     Ingrid Ching is the girl who has been bringing you your meals.     Maitland considered a moment, then nodded. Swarts lowered the projectorto his eyes again, and this time the engineer did not resist.     That evening, he could hardly wait for her to come. Too excited to sitand watch the sunset, he paced interminably about the room, sometimeswhistling nervously, snapping his fingers, sitting down and jitteringone leg. After a while he noticed that he was whistling the same themeover and over: a minute's thought identified it as that exuberantmounting phrase which recurs in the finale of Beethoven's NinthSymphony.     He forgot about it and went on whistling. He was picturing himselfaboard a ship dropping in toward Mars, making planetfall at SyrtisMajor; he was seeing visions of Venus and the awesome beauty of Saturn.In his mind, he circled the Moon, and viewed the Earth as a huge brightglobe against the constellations....     Finally the door slid aside and she appeared, carrying the usual trayof food. She smiled at him, making dimples in her golden skin andrevealing a perfect set of teeth, and put the tray on the table.     I think you are wonderful, she laughed. You get everything youwant, even from Swarts, and I have not been able to get even a littleof what I want from him. I want to travel in time, go back to your 20thCentury. And I wanted to talk with you, and he would not let me. Shelaughed again, hands on her rounded hips. I have never seen him soirritated as he was this noon.     Maitland urged her into the chair and sat down on the edge of the bed.Eagerly he asked, Why the devil do you want to go to the 20th Century?Believe me, I've been there, and what I've seen of this world looks alot better.     She shrugged. Swarts says that I want to go back to the Dark Age ofTechnology because I have not adapted well to modern culture. Myself,I think I have just a romantic nature. Far times and places look moreexciting....     How do you mean— Maitland wrinkled his brow—adapt to modernculture? Don't tell me      you're     from another time!     Oh, no! But my home is Aresund, a little fishing village at the headof a fiord in what you would call Norway. So far north, we are muchbehind the times. We live in the old way, from the sea, speak the oldtongue.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you tell me where the story of THE GIRLS FROM EARTH takes place?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What brings Escher and MacDonald together in THE GIRLS FROM EARTH? [SEP] <s>It was quiet as Karl guided his mount along the dimly marked trailand he caught himself thinking of the return trip he would be makingthat night. It would be nice to have somebody new to talk to. And itwould be good to have somebody to help with the trapping and tanning,somebody who could tend the small vegetable garden at the rear of hisshack and mend his socks and wash his clothes and cook his meals.     And it was time, he thought soberly, that he started to raise a family.He was mid-twenty now, old enough to want a wife and children.     You going to raise a litter, Joe?     Hill started. Karl realized that he had probably been thinking of thesame thing.     One of these days I'll need help around the sawmill, Hill answereddefensively. Need some kids to cut the trees, a couple more to polethem down the river, some to run the mill itself and maybe one to sellthe lumber in Landing City. Can't do it all myself.     He paused a moment, thinking over something that had just occurred tohim.     I've been thinking of your plans for a garden, Karl. Maybe I ought tohave one for my wife to take care of, too.     Karl chuckled. I don't think she'll have the time!     They left the leafy expanse of the forest and entered the grasslandsthat sloped toward Landing City. He could even see Landing City itselfon the horizon, a smudge of rusting, corrugated steel shacks, muddystreets, and the small rocket port—a scorched thirty acres or sofenced off with barbed wire.     Karl looked out of the corner of his eye at Hill and felt a vague waveof uneasiness. Hill was a big, thick man wearing the soiled clothes andbristly stubble of a man who was used to living alone and who likedit. But once he took a wife, he would probably have to keep himself inclean clothes and shave every few days. It was even possible that thewoman might object to Hill letting his yllumph share the hut.     The path was getting crowded, more of the colonists coming onto themain path from the small side trails.     Hill broke the silence first. I wonder what they'll be like.     Karl looked wise and nodded knowingly. They're Earthwomen, Joe.      Earth!          It was easy to act as though he had some inside information, but Karlhad to admit to himself that he actually knew very little about it. Hewas a Second System colonist and had never even seen an Earthwoman.He had heard tales, though, and even discounting a large percentageof them, some of them must have been true. Old Grundy at the rocketoffice, who should know about these things if anybody did, seemeddisturbingly lacking on definite information, though he had hintedbroadly enough. He'd whistle softly and wink an eye and repeat thestories that Karl had already heard; but he had nothing      definite     tooffer, no real facts at all.     Some of the other colonists whom they hadn't seen for the last fewmonths shouted greetings, and Karl began to feel some of the carnivalspirit. There was Jenkins, who had another trapping line fifty milesfarther up the Karazoo; Leonard, who had the biggest farm on Midplanet;and then the fellow who specialized in catching and breaking inyllumphs, whose name Karl couldn't remember.     They say they're good workers, Hill said.     Karl nodded. Pretty, too.     They threaded their way through the crowded and muddy streets. LandingCity wasn't big, compared to some of the cities on Altair, where he hadbeen raised, but Karl was proud of it. Some day it would be as big asany city on any planet—maybe even have a population of ten thousandpeople or more.     Joe, Karl said suddenly, what's supposed to make women from Earthbetter than women from any other world?     Hill located a faint itch and frowned. I don't know, Karl. It's hardto say. They're—well, sophisticated, glamorous.     Karl absorbed this in silence. Those particular qualities were, hethought, rather hard to define.     The battered shack that served as rocket port office and headquartersfor the colonial office on Midplanet loomed up in front of them. Therewas a crowd gathered in front of the building and they forced their waythrough to see what had caused it.     We saw this the last time we were here, Hill said.     I know, Karl agreed, but I want to take another look. He wasanxious to glean all the information that he could.     It was a poster of a beautiful woman leaning toward the viewer. Theedges of the poster were curling and the colors had faded during thelast six months, but the girl's smile seemed just as inviting as ever.She held a long-stemmed goblet in one hand and was blowing a kiss toher audience with the other. Her green eyes sparkled, her smile wasprovocative. A quoted sentence read: I'm from      Earth     ! There wasnothing more except a printed list of the different solar systems towhich the colonial office was sending the women.       She was real pretty, Karl thought. A little on the thin side, maybe,and the dress she was wearing would hardly be practical on Midplanet,but she had a certain something. Glamour, maybe?     A loudspeaker blared.     All colonists waiting for the wife draft assemble for your numbers!All colonists....     There was a jostling for places and then they were in the rapidlymoving line. Grundy, fat and important-looking, was handing out littleblue slips with numbers on them, pausing every now and then to tellthem some entertaining bit of information about the women. He had agreat imagination, nothing else.     Karl drew the number 53 and hurried to the grassy lot beside thelanding field that had been decorated with bunting and huge welcomesigns for the new arrivals. A table was loaded with governmentpamphlets meant to be helpful to newly married colonists. Karl wentover and stuffed a few in his pockets. Other tables had been set outand were loaded with luncheon food, fixed by the few colonial women inthe community. Karl caught himself eyeing the women closely, wonderinghow the girls from Earth would compare with them.     He fingered the ticket in his pocket. What would the woman be likewho had drawn the companion number 53 aboard the rocket? For when itlanded, they would pair up by numbers. The method had its drawbacks, ofcourse, but time was much too short to allow even a few days of gettingacquainted. He'd have to get back to his trapping lines and he imaginedthat Hill would have to get back to his sawmill and the others to theirfarms. What the hell, you never knew what you were getting either way,till it was too late.     Sandwich, mister? Pop?     Karl flipped the boy a coin, picked up some food and a drink, andwandered over to the landing field with Hill. There were still tenminutes or so to go before the rocket landed, but he caught himselfstraining his sight at the blue sky, trying to see a telltale flickerof exhaust flame.     The field was crowded and he caught some of the buzzing conversation.     ... never knew one myself, but let me tell you....     ... knew a fellow once who married one, never had a moment's restafterward....     ... no comparison with colonial women. They got culture....     ... I'd give a lot to know the girl who's got number twenty-five....     Let's meet back here with the girls who have picked our numbers, Hillsaid. Maybe we could trade.     Karl nodded, though privately he felt that the number system was justas good as depending on first impressions.     There was a murmur from the crowd and he found his gaze rivetedoverhead. High above, in the misty blue sky, was a sudden twinkle offire.     He reached up and wiped his sweaty face with a muddy hand and brushedaside a straggly lock of tangled hair. It wouldn't hurt to try to lookhis best.     The twinkling fire came nearer.      II     A Mr. Macdonald to see you, Mr. Escher.     Claude Escher flipped the intercom switch.     Please send him right in.     That was entirely superfluous, he thought, because MacDonald would comein whether Escher wanted him to or not.     The door opened and shut with a slightly harder bang than usual andEscher mentally braced himself. He had a good hunch what the problemwas going to be and why it was being thrown in their laps.     MacDonald made himself comfortable and sat there for a few minutes,just looking grim and not saying anything. Escher knew the psychologyby heart. A short preliminary silence is always more effective inbrowbeating subordinates than an initial furious bluster.     He lit a cigarette and tried to outwait MacDonald. It wasn'teasy—MacDonald had great staying powers, which was probably why he wasthe head of the department.     Escher gave in first. Okay, Mac, what's the trouble? What do we havetossed in our laps now?     You know the one—colonization problem. You know that when we firststarted to colonize, quite a large percentage of the male populationtook to the stars, as the saying goes. The adventuresome, the gamblers,the frontier type all decided they wanted to head for other worlds, toget away from it all. The male of the species is far more adventuresomethan the female; the men left—but the women didn't. At least, not innearly the same large numbers.     Well, you see the problem. The ratio of women to men here on Earth isnow something like five to three. If you don't know what that means,ask any man with a daughter. Or any psychiatrist. Husband-hunting isn'tjust a pleasant pastime on Earth. It's an earnest cutthroat businessand I'm not just using a literary phrase.     He threw a paper on Escher's desk. You'll find most of the statisticsabout it in that, Claude. Notice the increase in crimes peculiar towomen. Shoplifting, badger games, poisonings, that kind of thing. It'squite a list. You'll also notice the huge increase in petty crimes, alot of which wouldn't have bothered the courts before. In fact, theywouldn't even have been considered crimes. You know why they are now?     Escher shook his head blankly.     Most of the girls in the past who didn't catch a husband, MacDonaldcontinued, grew up to be the type of old maid who's dedicated toimproving the morals and what-not of the rest of the population. We'vegot more puritanical societies now than we ever had, and we have moresilly little laws on the books as a result. You can be thrown in thepokey for things like violating a woman's privacy—whatever thatmeans—and she's the one who decides whether what you say or do is aviolation or not.     Escher looked bored. Not to mention the new prohibition whichforbids the use of alcohol in everything from cough medicines to hairtonics. Or the cleaned up moral code that reeks—if you'll pardon theexpression—of purity. Sure, I know what you mean. And you know thesolution. All we have to do is get the women to colonize.     MacDonald ran his fingers nervously through his hair.     But it won't be easy, and that's why it's been given to us. It's yourbaby, Claude. Give it a lot of thought. Nothing's impossible, you know.     Perpetual motion machines are, Escher said quietly. And pullingyourself up by your boot-straps. But I get the point. Nevertheless,women just don't want to colonize. And who can blame them? Why shouldthey give up living in a luxury civilization, with as many modernconveniences as this one, to go homesteading on some wild, unexploredplanet where they have to work their fingers to the bone and playfootsie with wild animals and savages who would just as soon skin themalive as not?     What do you advise I do, then? MacDonald demanded. Go back to theBoard and tell them the problem is not solvable, that we can't think ofanything?     Escher looked hurt. Did I say that? I just said it wouldn't be easy.     The Board is giving you a blank check. Do anything you think will payoff. We have to stay within the letter of the law, of course, but notnecessarily the spirit.     When do they have to have a solution?     As soon as possible. At least within the year. By that time thesituation will be very serious. The psychologists say that what willhappen then won't be good.     All right, by then we'll have the answer.     MacDonald stopped at the door. There's another reason why they want itworked out. The number of men applying to the Colonization Board foremigration to the colony planets is falling off.     How come?     MacDonald smiled. On the basis of statistics alone, would you want toemigrate from a planet where the women outnumber the men five to three?     When MacDonald had gone, Escher settled back in his chair and idlytapped his fingers on the desk-top. It was lucky that the ColonizationBoard worked on two levels. One was the well-publicized, idealisticlevel where nothing was too good and every deal was 99 and 44/100 percent pure. But when things got too difficult for it to handle on thatlevel, they went to Escher and MacDonald's department. The coal minelevel. Nothing was too low, so long as it worked. Of course, if itdidn't work, you took the lumps, too.     He rummaged around in his drawer and found a list of the qualificationsset up by the Board for potential colonists. He read the list slowlyand frowned. You had to be physically fit for the rigors of spacetravel, naturally, but some of the qualifications were obviously silly.You couldn't guarantee physical perfection in the second generation,anyway.     He tore the qualification list in shreds and dropped it in the disposalchute. That would have to be the first to go.     There were other things that could be done immediately. For one thing,as it stood now, you were supposed to be financially able to colonize.Obviously a stupid and unappealing law. That would have to go next.     He picked up the sheet of statistics that MacDonald had left and readit carefully. The Board could legalize polygamy, but that was nosolution in the long run. Probably cause more problems than it wouldsolve. Even with women as easy to handle as they were nowadays, one wasstill enough.     Which still left him with the main problem of how to get people tocolonize who didn't      want     to colonize.     The first point was to convince them that they wanted to. The secondpoint was that it might not matter whether they wanted to or not.     No, it shouldn't be hard to solve at all—provided you held your nose,silenced your conscience, and were willing to forget that there wassuch a thing as a moral code.      III     Phyllis Hanson put the cover over her typewriter and locked thecorrespondence drawer. Another day was done, another evening about tobegin.     She filed into the washroom with the other girls and carefully redidher face. It was getting hard to disguise the worry lines, to paintaway the faint crow's-feet around her eyes.     She wasn't, she admitted to herself for the thousandth time, what youwould call beautiful. She inspected herself carefully in her compactmirror. In a sudden flash of honesty, she had to admit that she wasn'teven what you would call pretty. Her face was too broad, her nose afraction too long, and her hair was dull. Not homely, exactly—but notpretty, either.     Conversation hummed around her, most of it from the little group in thecorner, where the extreme few who were married sat as practically arace apart. Their advice was sought, their suggestions avidly followed.     Going out tonight, Phyl?     She hesitated a moment, then slowly painted on the rest of her mouth.The question was technically a privacy violator, but she thought shewould sidestep it this time, instead of refusing to answer point-blank.     I thought I'd stay home tonight. Have a few things I want to rinseout.     The black-haired girl next to her nodded sympathetically. Sure, Phyl,I know what you mean. Just like the rest of us—waiting for the phoneto ring.     Phyllis finished washing up and then left the office, carefully notingthe girl who was waiting for the boss. The girl was beautiful in a hardsort of way, a platinum blonde with an entertainer's busty figure.Waiting for a plump, middle-aged man like a stagestruck kid outside atheatre.     At home, in her small two-room bachelor-girl apartment, she strippedand took a hot, sudsing shower, then stepped out and toweled herself infront of a mirror. She frowned slightly. You didn't know whether youshould keep yourself in trim just on some off-chance, or give up andlet yourself go.     She fixed dinner, took a moderately long time doing the dishes, andwent through the standard routine of getting a book and curling up onthe sofa. It was a good book of the boot-legged variety—scientificallywritten with enough surplus heroes and heroines and lushly describedlove affairs to hold anybody's interest.     It held hers for ten pages and then she threw the book across the room,getting a savage delight at the way the pages ripped and fluttered tothe floor.     What was the use of kidding herself any longer, of trying to livevicariously and hoping that some day she would have a home and ahusband? She was thirty now; the phone hadn't rung in the last threeyears. She might as well spend this evening as she had spent so manyothers—call up the girls for a bridge game and a little gossip, thoughheaven knew you always ended up envying the people you were gossipingabout.     Perhaps she should have joined one of the organizations at the officethat did something like that seven nights out of every seven. A bridgegame or a benefit for some school or a talk on art. Or she could havejoined the Lecture of the Week club, or the YWCA, or any one of theother government-sponsored clubs designed to fill the void in a woman'slife.     But bridge games and benefits and lectures didn't take the place of ahusband and family. She was kidding herself again.     She got up and retrieved the battered book, then went over to the mailslot. She hadn't had time to open her mail that morning; most of thetime it wasn't worth the effort. Advertisements for book clubs, lectureclubs, how to win at bridge and canasta....     Her fingers sprang the metal tabs on a large envelope and she took outthe contents and spread it wide.     She gasped. It was a large poster, about a yard square. A man was onit, straddling a tiny city and a small panorama of farms and forestsat his feet. He was a handsome specimen, with wavy blond hair and blueeyes and a curly mat on his bare chest that was just enough to beattractive without being apelike. He held an axe in his hands and waseyeing her with a clearly inviting look of brazen self-confidence.       It was definitely a privacy violator and she should notify theauthorities immediately!       Bright lettering at the top of the poster shrieked: Come to theColonies, the Planets of Romance!         Whoever had mailed it should be arrested and imprisoned! Preyingon....       The smaller print at the bottom was mostly full of facts and figures.The need for women out on the colony planets, the percentage of men towomen—a startling disproportion—the comfortable cities that weren'tnearly as primitive as people had imagined, and the recently reducedqualifications.     She caught herself admiring the man on the poster. Naturally, it was anartist's conception, but even so....     And the cities were far in advance of the frontier settlements, whereyou had to battle disease and dirty savages.     It was all a dream. She had never done anything like this and shewouldn't think of doing it now. And had any of her friends seen theposter? Of course, they probably wouldn't tell her even if they had.       But the poster was a violation of privacy. Whoever had sent it hadtaken advantage of information that was none of their business. It wasup to her to notify the authorities!    <doc-sep>The engaging manner of the man won Zotul's confidence. After all, itwas no more than fair to pay transportation.     He said, How much does the freight cost?     Broderick told him.     It may seem high, said the Earthman, but remember that Earth issixty-odd light-years away. After all, we are absorbing the cost of themerchandise. All you pay is the freight, which is cheap, consideringthe cost of operating an interstellar spaceship.     Impossible, said Zotul drably. Not I and all my brothers togetherhave so much money any more.     You don't know us of Earth very well yet, but you will. I offer youcredit!     What is that? asked Zotul skeptically.     It is how the poor are enabled to enjoy all the luxuries of therich, said Broderick, and went on to give a thumbnail sketch of theinvolutions and devolutions of credit, leaving out some angles thatmight have had a discouraging effect.     On a world where credit was a totally new concept, it was enchanting.Zotul grasped at the glittering promise with avidity. What must I doto get credit?     Just sign this paper, said Broderick, and you become part of ourEasy Payment Plan.     Zotul drew back. I have five brothers. If I took all these things formyself and nothing for them, they would beat me black and blue.     Here. Broderick handed him a sheaf of chattel mortgages. Have eachof your brothers sign one of these, then bring them back to me. That isall there is to it.     It sounded wonderful. But how would the brothers take it? Zotulwrestled with his misgivings and the misgivings won.     I will talk it over with them, he said. Give me the total so I willhave the figures.     The total was more than it ought to be by simple addition. Zotulpointed this out politely.     Interest, Broderick explained. A mere fifteen per cent. After all,you get the merchandise free. The transportation company has to bepaid, so another company loans you the money to pay for the freight.This small extra sum pays the lending company for its trouble.     I see. Zotul puzzled over it sadly. It is too much, he said. Ourplant doesn't make enough money for us to meet the payments.     I have a surprise for you, smiled Broderick. Here is a contract. Youwill start making ceramic parts for automobile spark plugs and certainparts for radios and gas ranges. It is our policy to encourage localmanufacture to help bring prices down.     We haven't the equipment.     We will equip your plant, beamed Broderick. It will require onlya quarter interest in your plant itself, assigned to our terrestrialcompany.  <doc-sep>He could tell from their looks that the others did, but couldn't bringthemselves to put it into words.     I suppose it's the time-scale and the value-scale that are so hard forus to accept, he said softly. Much more, even, than the size-scale.The thought that there are creatures in the Universe to whom the wholecareer of Man—in fact, the whole career of life—is no more than a fewthousand or hundred thousand years. And to whom Man is no more than aminor stage property—a trifling part of a clever job of camouflage.     This time he went on, Fantasy writers have at times hinted all sortsof odd things about the Earth—that it might even be a kind of singleliving creature, or honeycombed with inhabited caverns, and so on.But I don't know that any of them have ever suggested that the Earth,together with all the planets and moons of the Solar System, mightbe....     In a whisper, Frieda finished for him, ... a camouflaged fleet ofgigantic spherical spaceships.           Your guess happens to be the precise truth.          At that familiar, yet dreadly unfamiliar voice, all four of them swungtoward the inner door. Dotty was standing there, a sleep-stupefiedlittle girl with a blanket caught up around her and dragging behind.Their own daughter. But in her eyes was a look from which they cringed.     She said, I am a creature somewhat older than what your geologistscall the Archeozoic Era. I am speaking to you through a number oftelepathically sensitive individuals among your kind. In each case mythoughts suit themselves to your level of comprehension. I inhabit thedisguised and jetless spaceship which is your Earth.     Celeste swayed a step forward. Baby.... she implored.     Dotty went on, without giving her a glance, It is true that we plantedthe seeds of life on some of these planets simply as part of ourcamouflage, just as we gave them a suitable environment for each. Andit is true that now we must let most of that life be destroyed. Ourhiding place has been discovered, our pursuers are upon us, and we mustmake one last effort to escape or do battle, since we firmly believethat the principle of mental privacy to which we have devoted ourexistence is perhaps the greatest good in the whole Universe.     But it is not true that we look with contempt upon you. Our whole raceis deeply devoted to life, wherever it may come into being, and it isour rule never to interfere with its development. That was one ofthe reasons we made life a part of our camouflage—it would make ourpursuers reluctant to examine these planets too closely.     Yes, we have always cherished you and watched your evolution withinterest from our hidden lairs. We may even unconsciously have shapedyour development in certain ways, trying constantly to educate you awayfrom war and finally succeeding—which may have given the betrayingclue to our pursuers.     Your planets must be burst asunder—this particular planet in thearea of the Pacific—so that we may have our last chance to escape.Even if we did not move, our pursuers would destroy you with us. Wecannot invite you inside our ships—not for lack of space, but becauseyou could never survive the vast accelerations to which you would besubjected. You would, you see, need very special accommodations, ofwhich we have enough only for a few.     Those few we will take with us, as the seed from which a new humanrace may—if we ourselves somehow survive—be born.  <doc-sep>If home is where the heart is, Horatio Jones—known better as Isobarto his associates at the Experimental Dome on Luna—was a long, longway from home. His lean, gangling frame was immured, and had been forsix tedious Earth months, beneath the      impervite     hemisphere of LunarIII—that frontier outpost which served as a rocket refueling station,teleradio transmission point and meteorological base.     Six solid months! Six sad, dreary months! thought Isobar, Locked upin an airtight Dome like—like a goldfish in a glass bowl! Sunlight?Oh, sure! But filtered through ultraviolet wave-traps so it could notburn, it left the skin pale and lustreless and clammy as the belly of atoad. Fresh air? Pooh! Nothing but that everlasting sickening, scented,reoxygenated stuff gushing from atmo-conditioning units.     Excitement? Adventure? The romance he had been led to expect when hesigned on for frontier service? Bah! Only a weary, monotonous, routineexistence.     A pain! declared Isobar Jones. That's what it is; a pain in thestummick. Not even allowed to—Yeah?     It was Sparks, audioing from the Dome's transmission turret. He said,Hyah, Jonesy! How comes with the report?     Done, said Isobar. I was just gettin' the sheets together for you.     O.Q. But just bring      it     . Nothing else.     Isobar bridled.     I don't know what you're talkin' about.     Oh, no? Well, I'm talking about that squawk-filled doodlesack ofyours, sonny boy. Don't bring that bag-full of noise up here with you.     Isobar said defiantly, It ain't a doodlesack. It's a bagpipe. And Iguess I can play it if I want to—     Not, said Sparks emphatically, in      my     cubby! I've got sensitiveeardrums. Well, stir your stumps! I've got to get the report rollingquick today. Big doings up here.     Yeah? What?     Well, it's Roberts and Brown—     What about 'em?     They've gone Outside to make foundation repairs.     Lucky stiffs! commented Isobar ruefully.     Lucky, no. Stiffs, maybe—if they should meet any Grannies. Well,scoot along. I'm on the ether in four point sixteen minutes.     Be right up, promised Isobar, and, sheets in hand, he ambled from hiscloistered cell toward the central section of the Dome.     He didn't leave Sparks' turret after the sheets were delivered.Instead, he hung around, fidgeting so obtrusively that Riley finallyturned to him in sheer exasperation.     Sweet snakes of Saturn, Jonesy, what's the trouble? Bugs in yourbritches?     Isobar said, H-huh? Oh, you mean—Oh, thanks, no! I just thought mebbeyou wouldn't mind if I—well—er—     I get it! Sparks grinned. Want to play peekaboo while the contact'sopen, eh? Well, O.Q. Watch the birdie!     He twisted dials, adjusted verniers, fingered a host ofincomprehensible keys. Current hummed and howled. Then a plate beforehim cleared, and the voice of the Earth operator came in, enunciatingwith painstaking clarity:     Earth answering Luna. Earth answering Luna's call. Can you hear me,Luna? Can you hear—?     I can not only hear you, snorted Riley, I can see you and smell you,as well. Stop hamming it, stupid! You're lousing up the earth!     The now-visible face of the Earth radioman drew into a grimace ofdispleasure.     Oh, it's      you     ? Funny man, eh? Funny man Riley?     Sure, said Riley agreeably. I'm a scream. Four-alarm Riley,the cosmic comedian—didn't you know? Flick on your dictacoder,oyster-puss; here's the weather report. He read it. '      Weatherforecast for Terra, week of May 15-21     —'     Ask him, whispered Isobar eagerly. Sparks, don't forget to ask him!  <doc-sep>And now, smiled Carpenter as the two humans left the building, wemust see you registered for a nice family. Nothing too ostentatious,but, on the other hand, you mustn't count credits and ally yourselfbeneath your station.     Michael gazed pensively at two slender, snakelike Difdans writhingOnly 99 Shopping Days Till Christmas across an aquamarine sky.     They won't be permanent? he asked. The family, I mean?     Certainly not. You merely hire them for whatever length of time youchoose. But why are you so anxious?     The young man blushed. Well, I'm thinking of having a family of my ownsome day. Pretty soon, as a matter of fact.     Carpenter beamed. That's nice; you're being adopted! I do hope it'san Earth family that's chosen you—it's so awkward being adopted byextraterrestrials.     Oh, no! I'm planning to have my own. That is, I've got a—a girl,you see, and I thought after I had secured employment of some kind inPortyork, I'd send for her and we'd get married and....           Married!      Carpenter was now completely shocked. You      mustn't     usethat word! Don't you know marriage was outlawed years ago? Exclusivepossession of a member of the opposite sex is slavery on Talitha.Furthermore, supposing somebody else saw your—er—friend and wantedher also; you wouldn't wish him to endure the frustration of not havingher, would you?     Michael squared his jaw. You bet I would.     Carpenter drew himself away slightly, as if to avoid contamination.This is un-Universal. Young man, if I didn't have a kind heart, Iwould report you.     Michael was too preoccupied to be disturbed by this threat. You meanif I bring my girl here, I'd have to share her?     Certainly. And she'd have to share you. If somebody wanted you, thatis.     Then I'm not staying here, Michael declared firmly, ashamed to admiteven to himself how much relief his decision was bringing him. I don'tthink I like it, anyhow. I'm going back to the Brotherhood.     There was a short cold silence.     You know, son, Carpenter finally said, I think you might be right.I don't want to hurt your feelings—you      promise     I won't hurt yourfeelings? he asked anxiously, afraid, Michael realized, that he mightcall a policeman for ego injury.     You won't hurt my feelings, Mr. Carpenter.     Well, I believe that there are certain individuals who just cannotadapt themselves to civilized behavior patterns. It's much better forthem to belong to a Brotherhood such as yours than to be placed in oneof the government incarceratoriums, comfortable and commodious thoughthey are.     Much better, Michael agreed.     By the way, Carpenter went on, I realize this is just vulgarcuriosity on my part and you have a right to refuse an answer withoutfear of hurting my feelings, but how do you happen to have a—er—girlwhen you belong to a Brotherhood?     Michael laughed. Oh, 'Brotherhood' is merely a generic term. Bothsexes are represented in our society.     On Talitha— Carpenter began.     I know, Michael interrupted him, like the crude primitive he was andalways would be. But our females don't mind being generic.  <doc-sep>Bob's nose twitched as he adjusted his glasses, which he wore eveninside his suit. He couldn't think of anything pertinent to say. Heknew that he was slowly working up a blush. Mildly speaking, thegirl was beautiful, and though only her carefully made-up face wasvisible—cool blue eyes, masterfully coiffed, upswept, glinting brownhair, wilful lips and chin—Bob suspected the rest of her comparednicely.     Her expression darkened as she saw the completely instinctive way hewas looking at her and her radioed-voice rapped out, Now you two boysgo and play somewhere else! Else I'll let the Interplanetary Commissionknow you've infringed the law. G'bye!     She turned and disappeared.     Bob awoke from his trance, shouted desperately, Hey! Wait!      You!          He and Queazy caught up with her on the side of the asteroid theyhadn't yet examined. It was a rough plane, completing the rigidqualifications Burnside had set down.     Wait a minute, Bob Parker begged nervously. I want to make someconversation, lady. I'm sure you don't understand the conditions—     The girl turned and drew a gun from a holster. It was a spasticizer,and it was three times as big as her gloved hand.     I understand conditions better than you do, she said. You wantto move this asteroid from its orbit and haul it back to Earth.Unfortunately, this is my home, by common law. Come back in a month. Idon't expect to be here then.     A month! Parker burst the word out. He started to sweat, then hisface became grim. He took two slow steps toward the girl. She blinkedand lost her composure and unconsciously backed up two steps. Abouttwenty steps away was her small dumbbell-shaped ship, so shiny andunscarred that it reflected starlight in highlights from its curvedsurface. A rich girl's ship, Bob Parker thought angrily. A month wouldbe too late!     He said grimly, Don't worry. I don't intend to pull any rough stuff.I just want you to listen to reason. You've taken a whim to stay onan asteroid that doesn't mean anything to you one way or another. Butto us—to me and Queazy here—it means our business. We got an orderfor this asteroid. Some screwball millionaire wants it for a backyardwedding see? We get five hundred and fifty thousand dollars for it!If we don't take this asteroid to Earth before June 2, we go back toSatterfield City and work the rest of our lives in the glass factories.Don't we, Queazy?     Queazy said simply, That's right, miss. We're in a spot. I assure youwe didn't expect to find someone living here.     The girl holstered her spasticizer, but her completely inhospitableexpression did not change. She put her hands on the bulging hips of herspace-suit. Okay, she said. Now I understand the conditions. Now weboth understand each other. G'bye again. I'm staying here and— shesmiled sweetly —it may interest you to know that if I let you havethe asteroid you'll save your business, but I'll meet a fate worse thandeath! So that's that.     Bob recognized finality when he saw it. Come on, Queazy, he saidfuming. Let this brat have her way. But if I ever run across herwithout a space-suit on I'm going to give her the licking of her life,right where it'll do the most good!     He turned angrily, but Queazy grabbed his arm, his mouth falling open.He pointed off into space, beyond the girl.     What's that? he whispered.     What's wha—      Oh!          Bob Parker's stomach caved in. A few hundred feet away, floatinggently toward the asteroid, came another ship—a ship a trifle biggerthan their own. The girl turned, too. They heard her gasp. In anothersecond, Bob was standing next to her. He turned the audio-switch to hisheadset off, and spoke to the girl by putting his helmet against hers.     Listen to me, miss, he snapped earnestly, when she tried to drawaway. Don't talk by radio. That ship belongs to the Saylor brothers!Oh, Lord, that this should happen! Somewhere along the line, we've beendouble-crossed. Those boys are after this asteroid too, and they won'thesitate to pull any rough stuff. We're in this together, understand?We got to back each other up.     The girl nodded dumbly. Suddenly she seemed to be frightened.It's—it's very important that this—this asteroid stay right where itis, she said huskily. What—what will they do?  <doc-sep>The girls set up a shout and threw stones down at the centaurs, whoreared, pawed the air, and galloped to a safe distance, from which theyhurled back insults in a strange tongue. Their voices sounded faintlylike the neighing of horses.     Amazons and centaurs, he thought again. He couldn't get the problemof the girls' phenomenal strength out of his mind. Then it occurredto him that the asteroid, most likely, was smaller even than Earth'smoon. He must weigh about a thirtieth of what he usually did, due tothe lessened gravity. It also occurred to him that they would be thirtytimes as strong. He was staggered. He wished he had a smoke.     At length, the amazons and the centaurs tired of bandying insultsback and forth. The centaurs galloped off into the prairie, the girlsresumed their march. Jonathan scrambled up hills, skidded down slopes.The brunette was beside him helping him over the rough spots.     I'm Olga, she confided. Has anybody ever told you what a handsomefellow you are? She pinched his cheek. Jonathan blushed.     They climbed a ridge, paused at the crest. Below them, he saw a deepvalley. A stream tumbled through the center of it. There were treesalong its banks, the first he had seen on the asteroid. At the head ofthe valley, he made out the massive pile of a space liner.     They started down a winding path. The space liner disappeared behinda promontory of the mountain. Jonathan steeled himself for the comingordeal. He would have sat down and refused to budge except that he knewthe girls would hoist him on their shoulders and bear him into the camplike a bag of meal.     The trail debouched into the valley. Just ahead the space linerreappeared. He imagined that it had crashed into the mountain, skiddedand rolled down its side until it lodged beside the stream. It remindedhim of a wounded dinosaur. Three girls were bathing in the stream. Helooked away hastily.     Someone hailed them from the space ship.     We've caught a man, shrieked one of his captors.     A flock of girls streamed out of the wrecked space ship.     A man! screamed a husky blonde. She was wearing a grass skirt. Shehad green eyes. We're rescued!     No. No, Ann Clotilde hastened to explain. He was wrecked like us.     Oh, came a disappointed chorus.     He's a man, said the green-eyed blonde. That's the next best thing.     Oh, Olga, said a strapping brunette. Who'd ever thought a man couldlook so good?     I did, said Olga. She chucked Jonathan under the chin. He shiveredlike an unbroken colt when the bit first goes in its mouth. He feltlike a mouse hemmed in by a ring of cats.     A big rawboned brute of a girl strolled into the circle. She said,Dinner's ready. Her voice was loud, strident. It reminded him ofthe voices of girls in the honky tonks on Venus. She looked at himappraisingly as if he were a horse she was about to bid on. Bring himinto the ship, she said. The man must be starved.     He was propelled jubilantly into the palatial dining salon of thewrecked liner. A long polished meturilium table occupied the center ofthe floor. Automatic weight distributing chairs stood around it. Hisfeet sank into a green fiberon carpet. He had stepped back into theThirty-fourth Century from the fabulous barbarian past.     With a sigh of relief, he started to sit down. A lithe red-head sprangforward and held his chair. They all waited politely for him to beseated before they took their places. He felt silly. He felt likea captive princess. All the confidence engendered by the familiarsettings of the space ship went out of him like wind. He, JonathanFawkes, was a castaway on an asteroid inhabited by twenty-seven wildwomen.  <doc-sep>Obviously Trillium's poor little brain has been drugged, HisExcellency Dimdooly declared. Grandmamma Berta wouldn't know the firstthing about such things!     Impossible! Grandpapa President agreed. I've been married to herfor a hundred and twenty-four and a half years and she's the finestrattle-brain I ever knew!     She learned, Trillium stated emphatically, a hundred and twenty-fiveyears ago.     Hundred twenty-five, Grandpapa president growled like a boilingvolcano. The year some Earthman.... Never did catch the devil....Berta? Impossible!     Madame President's shapely finger now rested full on the button thatcould launch the fleets of war rockets that had been pre-aimed for athousand years. I'm afraid your Ambassador is unwelcome now, MadamePresident stated coolly. Your granddaughter's actions have every markof an invasion tactic by your government.     What do you mean, her actions? Grandpapa President's finger now laypoised on the button that had been waiting a thousand years to blowEarth out of the universe. My grandchild was kidnapped by men underyour official command! Weren't you, Trillium dear?     No. One of us stowing away was the only way we Venus women could bringour cause to the attention of Earth's President. If Earth will onlystop buying from Venus, you won't have any money to squander on yourwars any longer no matter what happens to we revolutionaries!     Revolutionaries? Such claptrap! And what's wrong with my wars? Peoplehave to have something to keep their minds off their troubles! Nobodyaround here gets hurt. Oh, maybe a few scratches here and there. Butnobody on Venus dies from the things any more.     But Venus men are so excited all the time about going to war theyhaven't time for us women. That's why we always radiated such a fatalattraction for Earthmen. We want to be loved! We want our own men homedoing useful work!     Well, they do come home and do useful work! Couple weeks every tenmonths. Proven to be a highly efficient arrangement.     More boys to run off to your old wars and more girls to stay home andbe lonely!     Now you just listen to me, Trillium! Grandpapa President was allVenus manhood laying down the law. That's the way things have been onVenus for ten thousand years and all the women in the universe can'tchange it!     I have been in constant contact with my Cabinet during theseconversations, Madame President said crisply. Earth is terminatingall trade agreements with Venus as of this instant.     What? Grandpapa's beards near pulled his ears off. It's not legal!You can't get away with this!     Take your finger off that trigger, boy! a heavenly voice similar toTrillium's advised from the Venus panel.     Whereupon Grandpapa glared to one side. Berta! What are you doinghere? I am deciding matters of the gravest interplanetary nature!     Were. Features more beautifully mature than Trillium's crowded ontothe panel too. From now on I'm doing the deciding.     Nonsense! You're only my wife!     And new President of Venus, elected by unanimous vote of all women.     Impossible! The men run Venus! Nobody's turning this planet intoanother Earth where a man can't even sneeze unless some woman says so!     Take him away, girls, Berta ordered coolly, whereupon her spouse wasyanked from view.     His bellows, however, could be heard yet. Unhand me, you foolcreatures! Guards! Guards!     Save your breath, Berta advised him. And while you're in the cooler,enjoy this latest batch of surrender communiques. We women are incontrol everywhere now.     Dimmy, Trillium was saying firmly to His Excellency, you have beataround the bush with me long enough. Now say it!  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What brings Escher and MacDonald together in THE GIRLS FROM EARTH?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in SOLDIER BOY? [SEP] <s>   Bridge Crossing     BY DAVE DRYFOOS     Illustrated by HARRISON     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction May 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      He knew the city was organized for his     individual defense, for it had been that     way since he was born. But who was his enemy?      In 1849, the mist that sometimes rolled through the Golden Gate wasknown as fog. In 2149, it had become far more frequent, and was knownas smog. By 2349, it was fog again.     But tonight there was smoke mixed with the fog. Roddie could smell it.Somewhere in the forested ruins, fire was burning.     He wasn't worried. The small blaze that smoldered behind him on thecracked concrete floor had consumed everything burnable within blocks;what remained of the gutted concrete office building from which hepeered was fire-proof.     But Roddie was himself aflame with anger. As always when Invaders brokein from the north, he'd been left behind with his nurse, Molly, whilethe soldiers went out to fight.     And nowadays Molly's presence wasn't the comfort it used to be. He feltalmost ready to jump out of his skin, the way she rocked and knitted inthat grating ruined chair, saying over and over again, The soldiersdon't      want     little boys. The soldiers don't      want     little boys. Thesoldiers don't—     I'm      not     a little boy! Roddie suddenly shouted. I'm full-grown andI've never even      seen     an Invader. Why won't you let me go and fight?     Fiercely he crossed the bare, gritty floor and shook Molly's shoulder.She rattled under his jarring hand, and abruptly changed the subject.     A is for Atom, B is for Bomb, C is for Corpse— she chanted.     Roddie reached into her shapeless dress and pinched. Lately that hadhelped her over these spells. But this time, though it stopped thekindergarten song, the treatment only started something worse.     Wuzzums hungry? Molly cooed, still rocking.     Utterly disgusted, Roddie ripped her head off her neck.     It was a completely futile gesture. The complicated mind that hadcared for him and taught him speech and the alphabet hadn't made him amechanic, and his only tool was a broken-handled screwdriver.  <doc-sep>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>He was still tinkering when the soldiers came in. While they lined upalong the wall, he put Molly's head back on her neck.     She gaped coyly at the new arrivals. Hello, boys, she simpered.Looking for a good time?     Roddie slapped her to silence, reflecting briefly that there were manythings he didn't know about Molly. But there was work to be done.Carefully he framed the ritual words she'd taught him: Soldiers, cometo attention and report!     There were eleven of them, six feet tall, with four limbs and eightextremities. They stood uniformly, the thumbs on each pair of handstouching along the center line of the legs, front feet turned out at anangle of forty-five degrees, rear feet turned inward at thirty degrees.     Sir, they chorused, we have met the enemy and he is ours.     He inspected them. All were scratched and dented, but one in particularseemed badly damaged. His left arm was almost severed at the shoulder.     Come here, fellow, Roddie said. Let's see if I can fix that.     The soldier took a step forward, lurched suddenly, stopped, and whippedout a bayonet.     Death to Invaders! he yelled, and charged crazily.      Molly stepped in front of him.     You aren't being very nice to my baby, she murmured, and thrust herknitting needles into his eyes.     Roddie jumped behind him, knocked off his helmet, and pressed a softspot on his conical skull. The soldier collapsed to the floor.  <doc-sep>   SOLDIER BOY     By MICHAEL SHAARA     Illustrated by EMSH     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction July 1953.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        It's one thing to laugh at a man because his job is useless       and outdated—another to depend on him when it suddenly isn't.          In the northland, deep, and in a great cave, by an everburning firethe Warrior sleeps. For this is the resting time, the time of peace,and so shall it be for a thousand years. And yet we shall summon himagain, my children, when we are sore in need, and out of the north hewill come, and again and again, each time we call, out of the dark andthe cold, with the fire in his hands, he will come.       —      Scandinavian legend        Throughout the night, thick clouds had been piling in the north; inthe morning, it was misty and cold. By eight o'clock a wet, heavy,snow-smelling breeze had begun to set in, and because the crops wereall down and the winter planting done, the colonists brewed hot coffeeand remained inside. The wind blew steadily, icily from the north. Itwas well below freezing when, some time after nine, an army ship landedin a field near the settlement.     There was still time. There were some last brief moments in which thecolonists could act and feel as they had always done. They thereforegrumbled in annoyance. They wanted no soldiers here. The few who hadconvenient windows stared out with distaste and a mild curiosity, butno one went out to greet them.     After a while a rather tall, frail-looking man came out of the shipand stood upon the hard ground looking toward the village. He remainedthere, waiting stiffly, his face turned from the wind. It was a sillything to do. He was obviously not coming in, either out of pride orjust plain orneriness.     Well, I never, a nice lady said.     What's he just      standing     there for? another lady said.     And all of them thought: well, God knows what's in the mind of asoldier, and right away many people concluded that he must be drunk.The seed of peace was deeply planted in these people, in the childrenand the women, very, very deep. And because they had been taught, oh socarefully, to hate war they had also been taught, quite incidentally,to despise soldiers.     The lone man kept standing in the freezing wind.  <doc-sep>An obscenely cheerful expression upon his gaunt, not too well shavenface, Captain Dylan perched himself upon the edge of a table andlistened, one long booted leg swinging idly. One by one the colonistswere beginning to understand. War is huge and comes with greatsuddenness and always without reason, and there is inevitably a wait,between acts, between the news and the motion, the fear and the rage.     Dylan waited. These people were taking it well, much better than thosein the cities had taken it. But then, these were pioneers. Dylangrinned. Pioneers. Before you settle a planet you boil it and bakeit and purge it of all possible disease. Then you step down gingerlyand inflate your plastic houses, which harden and become warm andimpregnable; and send your machines out to plant and harvest; and setup automatic factories to transmute dirt into coffee; and, without everhaving lifted a finger, you have braved the wilderness, hewed a homeout of the living rock and become a pioneer. Dylan grinned again. Butat least this was better than the wailing of the cities.     This Dylan thought, although he was himself no fighter, no man at allby any standards. This he thought because he was a soldier and anoutcast; to every drunken man the fall of the sober is a happy thing.He stirred restlessly.     By this time the colonists had begun to realize that there wasn't muchto say, and a tall, handsome woman was murmuring distractedly: Lupus,Lupus—doesn't that mean wolves or something?     Dylan began to wish they would get moving, these pioneers. It was verypossible that the aliens would be here soon, and there was no need fordiscussion. There was only one thing to do and that was to clear thehell out, quickly and without argument. They began to see it.     But, when the fear had died down, the resentment came. A number ofwomen began to cluster around Dylan and complain, working up theiranger. Dylan said nothing. Then the man Rossel pushed forward andconfronted him, speaking with a vast annoyance.     See here, soldier, this is our planet. I mean to say, this is our      home     . We demand some protection from the fleet. By God, we've beenpaying the freight for you boys all these years and it's high time youearned your keep. We demand....     It went on and on while Dylan looked at the clock and waited. He hopedthat he could end this quickly. A big gloomy man was in front of himnow and giving him that name of ancient contempt, soldier boy. Thegloomy man wanted to know where the fleet was.     There is no fleet. There are a few hundred half-shot old tubs thatwere obsolete before you were born. There are four or five new jobs forthe brass and the government. That's all the fleet there is.  <doc-sep>Roddie salvaged and returned Molly's needles. Then he examined thepatient, tearing him apart as a boy dismembers an alarm clock.     It was lucky he did. The left arm's pair of hands suddenly writhed offthe floor in an effort to choke him. But because the arm was detachedat the shoulder and therefore blind, he escaped the clutching onslaughtand could goad the reflexing hands into assaulting one anotherharmlessly.      Meanwhile, the other soldiers left, except for one, apparently anothercasualty, who stumbled on his way out and fell into the fire. By thetime Roddie had hauled him clear, damage was beyond repair. Roddieswore, then decided to try combining parts of this casualty with piecesof the other to make a whole one.     To get more light for the operation, he poked up the fire. Roddie wasnew at his work, and took it seriously. It alarmed him to watch thesoldiers melt away, gradually succumbing to battle damage, shamedhim to see the empty ruins burn section by section as the Invadersrepeatedly broke through and had to be burned out.     Soon there would be nothing left of the      Private Property Keep Out     that, according to Molly's bedtime story, the Owners had entrusted tothem when driven away by radioactivity. Soon the soldiers themselveswould be gone. None would remain to guard the city but a few strayedservants like Molly, and an occasional Civil Defender.     And himself, Roddie reflected, spitting savagely into the fire. Hemight remain. But how he fitted into the picture, he didn't know. AndMolly, who claimed to have found him in the ruins after a fight withInvaders twenty years before, couldn't or wouldn't say.     Well, for as long as possible, Roddie decided, he'd do his duty asthe others did theirs—single-mindedly. Eventually the soldiers mightaccept him as one of themselves; meanwhile, this newly attempted firstaid was useful to them.     He gave the fire a final poke and then paused, wondering if, whenheated, his screwdriver could make an unfastened end of wire stick onthe grayish spot where it seemed to belong.     Stretching prone to blow the embers hot so he could try out his newidea, Roddie got too close to the flames. Instantly the room filledwith the stench of singed hair. Roddie drew angrily back, beating outthe sparks in his uncut blond mane.     As he stood slapping his head and muttering, a deranged Civil Defensefirefighter popped into the doorway and covered him with carbon dioxidefoam.     Roddie fled. His life-long friends were not merely wearing out, theywere unbearably wearing.  <doc-sep>The first contact Man had ever had with an intelligent alien raceoccurred out on the perimeter in a small quiet place a long way fromhome. Late in the year 2360—the exact date remains unknown—an alienforce attacked and destroyed the colony at Lupus V. The wreckage andthe dead were found by a mailship which flashed off screaming for thearmy.     When the army came it found this: Of the seventy registered colonists,thirty-one were dead. The rest, including some women and children,were missing. All technical equipment, all radios, guns, machines,even books, were also missing. The buildings had been burned, so werethe bodies. Apparently the aliens had a heat ray. What else they had,nobody knew. After a few days of walking around in the ash, one soldierfinally stumbled on something.     For security reasons, there was a detonator in one of the mainbuildings. In case of enemy attack, Security had provided a bomb to beburied in the center of each colony, because it was important to blowa whole village to hell and gone rather than let a hostile alien learnvital facts about human technology and body chemistry. There was a bombat Lupus V too, and though it had been detonated it had not blown. Thedetonating wire had been cut.     In the heart of the camp, hidden from view under twelve inches ofearth, the wire had been dug up and cut.     The army could not understand it and had no time to try. After fivehundred years of peace and anti-war conditioning the army was small,weak and without respect. Therefore, the army did nothing but spreadthe news, and Man began to fall back.     In a thickening, hastening stream he came back from the hard-wonstars, blowing up his homes behind him, stunned and cursing. Most ofthe colonists got out in time. A few, the farthest and loneliest, diedin fire before the army ships could reach them. And the men in thoseships, drinkers and gamblers and veterans of nothing, the dregs of asociety which had grown beyond them, were for a long while the onlydefense Earth had.     This was the message Captain Dylan had brought, come out from Earthwith a bottle on his hip.  <doc-sep>When they started down the street, she was nervous despite Roddie'sassertion that he knew where the soldiers were posted. He wondered ifshe felt some of the doubt he'd tried to conceal, shared his visions ofwhat the soldiers might do if they found him brazenly strolling with anInvader. They might not believe he was only questioning a prisoner.     Every day, his friends were becoming more unpredictable.     For that very reason, because he didn't know what precautions would doany good, he took a chance and walked openly to the bridge by the mostdirect route. In time this apparent assurance stilled Ida's fears, andshe began to talk.     Many of the things she said were beyond his experience and meaninglessto him, but he did note with interest how effective the soldiers hadbeen.     It's awful, Ida said. So few young men are left, so manycasualties....     But why do you—we—keep up the fight? Roddie asked. I mean, thesoldiers will never leave the city; their purpose is to guard it andthey      can't     leave, so they won't attack. Let them alone, and there'llbe plenty of young men.     Well! said Ida, sharply. You need indoctrination! Didn't they evertell you that the city is our home, even if the stupid androids do keepus out? Don't you know how dependent we are on these raids for all ourtools and things?     She sounded suspicious. Roddie shot her a furtive, startled glance.But she wasn't standing off to fight him. On the contrary, she was tooclose for both comfort and combat. She bumped him hip and shoulderevery few steps, and if he edged away, she followed.     He went on with his questioning. Why are      you     here? I mean, sure, theothers are after tools and things, but what's      your     purpose?     Ida shrugged. I'll admit no girl has ever done it before, she said,but I thought I could help with the wounded. That's why I have noweapon.     She hesitated, glanced covertly up at him, and went on with a rush ofwords. It's the lack of men, I guess. All the girls are kind of boredand hopeless, so I got this bright idea and stowed away on one of theboats when it was dark and the fog had settled down. Do you think I wasbeing silly?     No, but you do seem a little purposeless.     In silence they trudged through a vast area of charred wood andconcrete foundations on the northern end of the city. Thick fog overthe water hid Alcatraz, but in-shore visibility was better, and theycould see the beginning of the bridge approach.     A stone rattled nearby. There was a clink of metal. Ida gasped, andclung to Roddie's arm.     Behind me! he whispered urgently. Get behind me and hold on!     He felt Ida's arms encircling his waist, her chin digging into his backbelow the left shoulder. Facing them, a hundred feet away, stood asoldier. He looked contemptuous, hostile.      It's all right, Roddie said, his voice breaking.     There was a long, sullen, heart-stopping stare. Then the soldier turnedand walked away.     Ida's grip loosened, and he could feel her sag behind him. Roddieturned and held her. With eyes closed, she pressed cold blue lips tohis. He grimaced and turned away his head.     Ida's response was quick. Forgive me, she breathed, and slipped fromhis arms, but she held herself erect. I was so scared. And then we'vehad no sleep, no food or water.     Roddie was familiar with these signs of weakness, proud of appearing todeny his own humiliating needs.     I guess you're not as strong as me, he said smugly. I'll take careof you. Of course we can't sleep now, but I'll get food and water.     Leaving her to follow, he turned left to the ruins of a supermarket hehad previously visited, demonstrating his superior strength by settinga pace Ida couldn't match. By the time she caught up with him, he hadgrubbed out a few cans of the special size that Molly always chose.Picking two that were neither dented, swollen, nor rusted, he smashedan end of each with his hammer, and gave Ida her choice of strainedspinach or squash.     Baby food! she muttered. Maybe it's just what we need, but to eatbaby food with a man wearing a diaper.... Tell me, Roddie, how did youhappen to know where to find it?     Well, this is the northern end of the city, he answered, shrugging.I've been here before.     Why did the soldier let us go?     This watch, he said, touching the radium dial. It's a talisman.     But Ida's eyes had widened, and the color was gone from her face. Shewas silent, too, except when asking him to fill his fast-emptied canwith rain-water. She didn't finish her own portion, but lay back in therubble with feet higher than her head, obviously trying to renew herstrength.     And when they resumed their walk, her sullen, fear-clouded face showedplainly that he'd given himself away.     But to kill her now, before learning how she planned to cross thesupposedly impassable bridge, seemed as purposeless and impulsive asIda herself. Roddie didn't think, in any case, that her death wouldsatisfy the soldiers. With new and useful information to offer, hemight join them as an equal at last. But if his dalliance with thisenemy seemed pointless, not even Molly's knitting needles could protecthim.     He was sure the soldiers must be tracking the mysterious emanations ofhis watch dial, and had trouble to keep from glancing over his shoulderat every step. But arrival at the bridge approach ended the need forthis self-restraint. Here, difficult going demanded full attention.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in SOLDIER BOY?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the backdrop of the story SOLDIER BOY? [SEP] <s>   Bridge Crossing     BY DAVE DRYFOOS     Illustrated by HARRISON     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction May 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      He knew the city was organized for his     individual defense, for it had been that     way since he was born. But who was his enemy?      In 1849, the mist that sometimes rolled through the Golden Gate wasknown as fog. In 2149, it had become far more frequent, and was knownas smog. By 2349, it was fog again.     But tonight there was smoke mixed with the fog. Roddie could smell it.Somewhere in the forested ruins, fire was burning.     He wasn't worried. The small blaze that smoldered behind him on thecracked concrete floor had consumed everything burnable within blocks;what remained of the gutted concrete office building from which hepeered was fire-proof.     But Roddie was himself aflame with anger. As always when Invaders brokein from the north, he'd been left behind with his nurse, Molly, whilethe soldiers went out to fight.     And nowadays Molly's presence wasn't the comfort it used to be. He feltalmost ready to jump out of his skin, the way she rocked and knitted inthat grating ruined chair, saying over and over again, The soldiersdon't      want     little boys. The soldiers don't      want     little boys. Thesoldiers don't—     I'm      not     a little boy! Roddie suddenly shouted. I'm full-grown andI've never even      seen     an Invader. Why won't you let me go and fight?     Fiercely he crossed the bare, gritty floor and shook Molly's shoulder.She rattled under his jarring hand, and abruptly changed the subject.     A is for Atom, B is for Bomb, C is for Corpse— she chanted.     Roddie reached into her shapeless dress and pinched. Lately that hadhelped her over these spells. But this time, though it stopped thekindergarten song, the treatment only started something worse.     Wuzzums hungry? Molly cooed, still rocking.     Utterly disgusted, Roddie ripped her head off her neck.     It was a completely futile gesture. The complicated mind that hadcared for him and taught him speech and the alphabet hadn't made him amechanic, and his only tool was a broken-handled screwdriver.  <doc-sep>He was still tinkering when the soldiers came in. While they lined upalong the wall, he put Molly's head back on her neck.     She gaped coyly at the new arrivals. Hello, boys, she simpered.Looking for a good time?     Roddie slapped her to silence, reflecting briefly that there were manythings he didn't know about Molly. But there was work to be done.Carefully he framed the ritual words she'd taught him: Soldiers, cometo attention and report!     There were eleven of them, six feet tall, with four limbs and eightextremities. They stood uniformly, the thumbs on each pair of handstouching along the center line of the legs, front feet turned out at anangle of forty-five degrees, rear feet turned inward at thirty degrees.     Sir, they chorused, we have met the enemy and he is ours.     He inspected them. All were scratched and dented, but one in particularseemed badly damaged. His left arm was almost severed at the shoulder.     Come here, fellow, Roddie said. Let's see if I can fix that.     The soldier took a step forward, lurched suddenly, stopped, and whippedout a bayonet.     Death to Invaders! he yelled, and charged crazily.      Molly stepped in front of him.     You aren't being very nice to my baby, she murmured, and thrust herknitting needles into his eyes.     Roddie jumped behind him, knocked off his helmet, and pressed a softspot on his conical skull. The soldier collapsed to the floor.  <doc-sep>   SOLDIER BOY     By MICHAEL SHAARA     Illustrated by EMSH     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction July 1953.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        It's one thing to laugh at a man because his job is useless       and outdated—another to depend on him when it suddenly isn't.          In the northland, deep, and in a great cave, by an everburning firethe Warrior sleeps. For this is the resting time, the time of peace,and so shall it be for a thousand years. And yet we shall summon himagain, my children, when we are sore in need, and out of the north hewill come, and again and again, each time we call, out of the dark andthe cold, with the fire in his hands, he will come.       —      Scandinavian legend        Throughout the night, thick clouds had been piling in the north; inthe morning, it was misty and cold. By eight o'clock a wet, heavy,snow-smelling breeze had begun to set in, and because the crops wereall down and the winter planting done, the colonists brewed hot coffeeand remained inside. The wind blew steadily, icily from the north. Itwas well below freezing when, some time after nine, an army ship landedin a field near the settlement.     There was still time. There were some last brief moments in which thecolonists could act and feel as they had always done. They thereforegrumbled in annoyance. They wanted no soldiers here. The few who hadconvenient windows stared out with distaste and a mild curiosity, butno one went out to greet them.     After a while a rather tall, frail-looking man came out of the shipand stood upon the hard ground looking toward the village. He remainedthere, waiting stiffly, his face turned from the wind. It was a sillything to do. He was obviously not coming in, either out of pride orjust plain orneriness.     Well, I never, a nice lady said.     What's he just      standing     there for? another lady said.     And all of them thought: well, God knows what's in the mind of asoldier, and right away many people concluded that he must be drunk.The seed of peace was deeply planted in these people, in the childrenand the women, very, very deep. And because they had been taught, oh socarefully, to hate war they had also been taught, quite incidentally,to despise soldiers.     The lone man kept standing in the freezing wind.  <doc-sep>An obscenely cheerful expression upon his gaunt, not too well shavenface, Captain Dylan perched himself upon the edge of a table andlistened, one long booted leg swinging idly. One by one the colonistswere beginning to understand. War is huge and comes with greatsuddenness and always without reason, and there is inevitably a wait,between acts, between the news and the motion, the fear and the rage.     Dylan waited. These people were taking it well, much better than thosein the cities had taken it. But then, these were pioneers. Dylangrinned. Pioneers. Before you settle a planet you boil it and bakeit and purge it of all possible disease. Then you step down gingerlyand inflate your plastic houses, which harden and become warm andimpregnable; and send your machines out to plant and harvest; and setup automatic factories to transmute dirt into coffee; and, without everhaving lifted a finger, you have braved the wilderness, hewed a homeout of the living rock and become a pioneer. Dylan grinned again. Butat least this was better than the wailing of the cities.     This Dylan thought, although he was himself no fighter, no man at allby any standards. This he thought because he was a soldier and anoutcast; to every drunken man the fall of the sober is a happy thing.He stirred restlessly.     By this time the colonists had begun to realize that there wasn't muchto say, and a tall, handsome woman was murmuring distractedly: Lupus,Lupus—doesn't that mean wolves or something?     Dylan began to wish they would get moving, these pioneers. It was verypossible that the aliens would be here soon, and there was no need fordiscussion. There was only one thing to do and that was to clear thehell out, quickly and without argument. They began to see it.     But, when the fear had died down, the resentment came. A number ofwomen began to cluster around Dylan and complain, working up theiranger. Dylan said nothing. Then the man Rossel pushed forward andconfronted him, speaking with a vast annoyance.     See here, soldier, this is our planet. I mean to say, this is our      home     . We demand some protection from the fleet. By God, we've beenpaying the freight for you boys all these years and it's high time youearned your keep. We demand....     It went on and on while Dylan looked at the clock and waited. He hopedthat he could end this quickly. A big gloomy man was in front of himnow and giving him that name of ancient contempt, soldier boy. Thegloomy man wanted to know where the fleet was.     There is no fleet. There are a few hundred half-shot old tubs thatwere obsolete before you were born. There are four or five new jobs forthe brass and the government. That's all the fleet there is.  <doc-sep>Roddie salvaged and returned Molly's needles. Then he examined thepatient, tearing him apart as a boy dismembers an alarm clock.     It was lucky he did. The left arm's pair of hands suddenly writhed offthe floor in an effort to choke him. But because the arm was detachedat the shoulder and therefore blind, he escaped the clutching onslaughtand could goad the reflexing hands into assaulting one anotherharmlessly.      Meanwhile, the other soldiers left, except for one, apparently anothercasualty, who stumbled on his way out and fell into the fire. By thetime Roddie had hauled him clear, damage was beyond repair. Roddieswore, then decided to try combining parts of this casualty with piecesof the other to make a whole one.     To get more light for the operation, he poked up the fire. Roddie wasnew at his work, and took it seriously. It alarmed him to watch thesoldiers melt away, gradually succumbing to battle damage, shamedhim to see the empty ruins burn section by section as the Invadersrepeatedly broke through and had to be burned out.     Soon there would be nothing left of the      Private Property Keep Out     that, according to Molly's bedtime story, the Owners had entrusted tothem when driven away by radioactivity. Soon the soldiers themselveswould be gone. None would remain to guard the city but a few strayedservants like Molly, and an occasional Civil Defender.     And himself, Roddie reflected, spitting savagely into the fire. Hemight remain. But how he fitted into the picture, he didn't know. AndMolly, who claimed to have found him in the ruins after a fight withInvaders twenty years before, couldn't or wouldn't say.     Well, for as long as possible, Roddie decided, he'd do his duty asthe others did theirs—single-mindedly. Eventually the soldiers mightaccept him as one of themselves; meanwhile, this newly attempted firstaid was useful to them.     He gave the fire a final poke and then paused, wondering if, whenheated, his screwdriver could make an unfastened end of wire stick onthe grayish spot where it seemed to belong.     Stretching prone to blow the embers hot so he could try out his newidea, Roddie got too close to the flames. Instantly the room filledwith the stench of singed hair. Roddie drew angrily back, beating outthe sparks in his uncut blond mane.     As he stood slapping his head and muttering, a deranged Civil Defensefirefighter popped into the doorway and covered him with carbon dioxidefoam.     Roddie fled. His life-long friends were not merely wearing out, theywere unbearably wearing.  <doc-sep>When they started down the street, she was nervous despite Roddie'sassertion that he knew where the soldiers were posted. He wondered ifshe felt some of the doubt he'd tried to conceal, shared his visions ofwhat the soldiers might do if they found him brazenly strolling with anInvader. They might not believe he was only questioning a prisoner.     Every day, his friends were becoming more unpredictable.     For that very reason, because he didn't know what precautions would doany good, he took a chance and walked openly to the bridge by the mostdirect route. In time this apparent assurance stilled Ida's fears, andshe began to talk.     Many of the things she said were beyond his experience and meaninglessto him, but he did note with interest how effective the soldiers hadbeen.     It's awful, Ida said. So few young men are left, so manycasualties....     But why do you—we—keep up the fight? Roddie asked. I mean, thesoldiers will never leave the city; their purpose is to guard it andthey      can't     leave, so they won't attack. Let them alone, and there'llbe plenty of young men.     Well! said Ida, sharply. You need indoctrination! Didn't they evertell you that the city is our home, even if the stupid androids do keepus out? Don't you know how dependent we are on these raids for all ourtools and things?     She sounded suspicious. Roddie shot her a furtive, startled glance.But she wasn't standing off to fight him. On the contrary, she was tooclose for both comfort and combat. She bumped him hip and shoulderevery few steps, and if he edged away, she followed.     He went on with his questioning. Why are      you     here? I mean, sure, theothers are after tools and things, but what's      your     purpose?     Ida shrugged. I'll admit no girl has ever done it before, she said,but I thought I could help with the wounded. That's why I have noweapon.     She hesitated, glanced covertly up at him, and went on with a rush ofwords. It's the lack of men, I guess. All the girls are kind of boredand hopeless, so I got this bright idea and stowed away on one of theboats when it was dark and the fog had settled down. Do you think I wasbeing silly?     No, but you do seem a little purposeless.     In silence they trudged through a vast area of charred wood andconcrete foundations on the northern end of the city. Thick fog overthe water hid Alcatraz, but in-shore visibility was better, and theycould see the beginning of the bridge approach.     A stone rattled nearby. There was a clink of metal. Ida gasped, andclung to Roddie's arm.     Behind me! he whispered urgently. Get behind me and hold on!     He felt Ida's arms encircling his waist, her chin digging into his backbelow the left shoulder. Facing them, a hundred feet away, stood asoldier. He looked contemptuous, hostile.      It's all right, Roddie said, his voice breaking.     There was a long, sullen, heart-stopping stare. Then the soldier turnedand walked away.     Ida's grip loosened, and he could feel her sag behind him. Roddieturned and held her. With eyes closed, she pressed cold blue lips tohis. He grimaced and turned away his head.     Ida's response was quick. Forgive me, she breathed, and slipped fromhis arms, but she held herself erect. I was so scared. And then we'vehad no sleep, no food or water.     Roddie was familiar with these signs of weakness, proud of appearing todeny his own humiliating needs.     I guess you're not as strong as me, he said smugly. I'll take careof you. Of course we can't sleep now, but I'll get food and water.     Leaving her to follow, he turned left to the ruins of a supermarket hehad previously visited, demonstrating his superior strength by settinga pace Ida couldn't match. By the time she caught up with him, he hadgrubbed out a few cans of the special size that Molly always chose.Picking two that were neither dented, swollen, nor rusted, he smashedan end of each with his hammer, and gave Ida her choice of strainedspinach or squash.     Baby food! she muttered. Maybe it's just what we need, but to eatbaby food with a man wearing a diaper.... Tell me, Roddie, how did youhappen to know where to find it?     Well, this is the northern end of the city, he answered, shrugging.I've been here before.     Why did the soldier let us go?     This watch, he said, touching the radium dial. It's a talisman.     But Ida's eyes had widened, and the color was gone from her face. Shewas silent, too, except when asking him to fill his fast-emptied canwith rain-water. She didn't finish her own portion, but lay back in therubble with feet higher than her head, obviously trying to renew herstrength.     And when they resumed their walk, her sullen, fear-clouded face showedplainly that he'd given himself away.     But to kill her now, before learning how she planned to cross thesupposedly impassable bridge, seemed as purposeless and impulsive asIda herself. Roddie didn't think, in any case, that her death wouldsatisfy the soldiers. With new and useful information to offer, hemight join them as an equal at last. But if his dalliance with thisenemy seemed pointless, not even Molly's knitting needles could protecthim.     He was sure the soldiers must be tracking the mysterious emanations ofhis watch dial, and had trouble to keep from glancing over his shoulderat every step. But arrival at the bridge approach ended the need forthis self-restraint. Here, difficult going demanded full attention.  <doc-sep>Eventually, because even a soldier can look small and cold andpathetic, Bob Rossel had to get up out of a nice, warm bed and go outin that miserable cold to meet him.     The soldier saluted. Like most soldiers, he was not too neat and nottoo clean and the salute was sloppy. Although he was bigger thanRossel he did not seem bigger. And, because of the cold, there weretears gathering in the ends of his eyes.     Captain Dylan, sir. His voice was low and did not carry. I have amessage from Fleet Headquarters. Are you in charge here?     Rossel, a small sober man, grunted. Nobody's in charge here. If youwant a spokesman I guess I'll do. What's up?     The captain regarded him briefly out of pale blue, expressionless eyes.Then he pulled an envelope from an inside pocket, handed it to Rossel.It was a thick, official-looking thing and Rossel hefted it idly. Hewas about to ask again what was it all about when the airlock of thehovering ship swung open creakily. A beefy, black-haired young manappeared unsteadily in the doorway, called to Dylan.     C'n I go now, Jim?     Dylan turned and nodded.     Be back for you tonight, the young man called, and then, grinning,he yelled Catch and tossed down a bottle. The captain caught it andput it unconcernedly into his pocket while Rossel stared in disgust. Amoment later the airlock closed and the ship prepared to lift.     Was he      drunk     ? Rossel began angrily. Was that a bottle of      liquor     ?     The soldier was looking at him calmly, coldly. He indicated theenvelope in Rossel's hand. You'd better read that and get moving. Wehaven't much time.     He turned and walked toward the buildings and Rossel had to follow. AsRossel drew near the walls the watchers could see his lips moving butcould not hear him. Just then the ship lifted and they turned to watchthat, and followed it upward, red spark-tailed, into the gray spongyclouds and the cold.       After a while the ship went out of sight, and nobody ever saw it again.  <doc-sep>She had stopped, trembling and gasping. Roddie clung just below herand looked dazedly around. There was nothing in sight but fog, piercedby the rapier of rusted wire supporting them. Neither end of it was insight.     Upward lay success, if death were not nearer on the cable. No soldierhad ever come even this far, for soldiers, as he'd told Ida, never leftthe city, were not built to do so. But      he     was here; with luck, hecould capitalize on the differences that had plagued him so long.     Go on! he ordered hoarsely. Move!     There was neither answer nor result. He broke off an end of loosenedwire and jabbed her rear. Ida gasped and crawled on.     Up and up they went, chilled, wet, bleeding, pain-racked, exhausted.Never had Roddie felt so thoroughly the defects of his peculiarnon-mechanical construction.     Without realizing it, he acquired a new purpose, a duty as compellingas that of any soldier or fire-watcher. He had to keep that tremblingbody of his alive, mount to the tall rust tower overhead.     He climbed and he made Ida climb, till, at nightmare's end, the fogthinned and they came into clear, windswept air and clawed up the lasthundred feet to sanctuary.     They were completely spent. Without word or thought they crept withinthe tower, huddled together for warmth on its dank steel deck, andslept for several hours.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the backdrop of the story SOLDIER BOY?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the fate of Captain Dylan in the story SOLDIER BOY? [SEP] <s>An obscenely cheerful expression upon his gaunt, not too well shavenface, Captain Dylan perched himself upon the edge of a table andlistened, one long booted leg swinging idly. One by one the colonistswere beginning to understand. War is huge and comes with greatsuddenness and always without reason, and there is inevitably a wait,between acts, between the news and the motion, the fear and the rage.     Dylan waited. These people were taking it well, much better than thosein the cities had taken it. But then, these were pioneers. Dylangrinned. Pioneers. Before you settle a planet you boil it and bakeit and purge it of all possible disease. Then you step down gingerlyand inflate your plastic houses, which harden and become warm andimpregnable; and send your machines out to plant and harvest; and setup automatic factories to transmute dirt into coffee; and, without everhaving lifted a finger, you have braved the wilderness, hewed a homeout of the living rock and become a pioneer. Dylan grinned again. Butat least this was better than the wailing of the cities.     This Dylan thought, although he was himself no fighter, no man at allby any standards. This he thought because he was a soldier and anoutcast; to every drunken man the fall of the sober is a happy thing.He stirred restlessly.     By this time the colonists had begun to realize that there wasn't muchto say, and a tall, handsome woman was murmuring distractedly: Lupus,Lupus—doesn't that mean wolves or something?     Dylan began to wish they would get moving, these pioneers. It was verypossible that the aliens would be here soon, and there was no need fordiscussion. There was only one thing to do and that was to clear thehell out, quickly and without argument. They began to see it.     But, when the fear had died down, the resentment came. A number ofwomen began to cluster around Dylan and complain, working up theiranger. Dylan said nothing. Then the man Rossel pushed forward andconfronted him, speaking with a vast annoyance.     See here, soldier, this is our planet. I mean to say, this is our      home     . We demand some protection from the fleet. By God, we've beenpaying the freight for you boys all these years and it's high time youearned your keep. We demand....     It went on and on while Dylan looked at the clock and waited. He hopedthat he could end this quickly. A big gloomy man was in front of himnow and giving him that name of ancient contempt, soldier boy. Thegloomy man wanted to know where the fleet was.     There is no fleet. There are a few hundred half-shot old tubs thatwere obsolete before you were born. There are four or five new jobs forthe brass and the government. That's all the fleet there is.  <doc-sep>Eventually, because even a soldier can look small and cold andpathetic, Bob Rossel had to get up out of a nice, warm bed and go outin that miserable cold to meet him.     The soldier saluted. Like most soldiers, he was not too neat and nottoo clean and the salute was sloppy. Although he was bigger thanRossel he did not seem bigger. And, because of the cold, there weretears gathering in the ends of his eyes.     Captain Dylan, sir. His voice was low and did not carry. I have amessage from Fleet Headquarters. Are you in charge here?     Rossel, a small sober man, grunted. Nobody's in charge here. If youwant a spokesman I guess I'll do. What's up?     The captain regarded him briefly out of pale blue, expressionless eyes.Then he pulled an envelope from an inside pocket, handed it to Rossel.It was a thick, official-looking thing and Rossel hefted it idly. Hewas about to ask again what was it all about when the airlock of thehovering ship swung open creakily. A beefy, black-haired young manappeared unsteadily in the doorway, called to Dylan.     C'n I go now, Jim?     Dylan turned and nodded.     Be back for you tonight, the young man called, and then, grinning,he yelled Catch and tossed down a bottle. The captain caught it andput it unconcernedly into his pocket while Rossel stared in disgust. Amoment later the airlock closed and the ship prepared to lift.     Was he      drunk     ? Rossel began angrily. Was that a bottle of      liquor     ?     The soldier was looking at him calmly, coldly. He indicated theenvelope in Rossel's hand. You'd better read that and get moving. Wehaven't much time.     He turned and walked toward the buildings and Rossel had to follow. AsRossel drew near the walls the watchers could see his lips moving butcould not hear him. Just then the ship lifted and they turned to watchthat, and followed it upward, red spark-tailed, into the gray spongyclouds and the cold.       After a while the ship went out of sight, and nobody ever saw it again.  <doc-sep>Dylan wanted to go on about that, to remind them that nobody had wantedthe army, that the fleet had grown smaller and smaller ... but this wasnot the time. It was ten-thirty already and the damned aliens might becoming in right now for all he knew, and all they did was talk. He hadrealized a long time ago that no peace-loving nation in the historyof Earth had ever kept itself strong, and although peace was a nobledream, it was ended now and it was time to move.     We'd better get going, he finally said, and there was quiet.Lieutenant Bossio has gone on to your sister colony at Planet Three ofthis system. He'll return to pick me up by nightfall and I'm instructedto have you gone by then.     For a long moment they waited, and then one man abruptly walked off andthe rest followed quickly; in a moment they were all gone. One or twostopped long enough to complain about the fleet, and the big gloomy mansaid he wanted guns, that's all, and there wouldn't nobody get him offhis planet. When he left, Dylan breathed with relief and went out tocheck the bomb, grateful for the action.     Most of it had to be done in the open. He found a metal bar in theradio shack and began chopping at the frozen ground, following thewire. It was the first thing he had done with his hands in weeks, andit felt fine.     Dylan had been called up out of a bar—he and Bossio—and told what hadhappened, and in three weeks now they had cleared four colonies. Thiswould be the last, and the tension here was beginning to get to him.After thirty years of hanging around and playing like the town drunk,a man could not be expected to rush out and plug the breach, just likethat. It would take time.     He rested, sweating, took a pull from the bottle on his hip.     Before they sent him out on this trip they had made him a captain.Well, that was nice. After thirty years he was a captain. For thirtyyears he had bummed all over the west end of space, had scraped his wayalong the outer edges of Mankind, had waited and dozed and patrolledand got drunk, waiting always for something to happen. There were a lotof ways to pass the time while you waited for something to happen, andhe had done them all.     Once he had even studied military tactics.     He could not help smiling at that, even now. Damn it, he'd been green.But he'd been only nineteen when his father died—of a hernia, of acrazy fool thing like a hernia that killed him just because he'd workedtoo long on a heavy planet—and in those days the anti-war conditioningout on the Rim was not very strong. They talked a lot about guardiansof the frontier, and they got him and some other kids and a broken-downdoctor. And ... now he was a captain.     He bent his back savagely, digging at the ground. You wait and you waitand the edge goes off. This thing he had waited for all those damn dayswas upon him now and there was nothing he could do but say the hellwith it and go home. Somewhere along the line, in some dark corner ofthe bars or the jails, in one of the million soul-murdering insultswhich are reserved especially for peacetime soldiers, he had lost thecore of himself, and it didn't particularly matter. That was the point:it made no particular difference if he never got it back. He owednobody. He was tugging at the wire and trying to think of somethingpleasant from the old days, when the wire came loose in his hands.     Although he had been, in his cynical way, expecting it, for a moment itthrew him and he just stared. The end was clean and bright. The wirehad just been cut.  <doc-sep>Dylan sat for a long while by the radio shack, holding the ends in hishands. He reached almost automatically for the bottle on his hip andthen, for the first time he could remember, let it go. This was real,there was no time for that.     When Rossel came up, Dylan was still sitting. Rossel was so excited hedid not notice the wire.     Listen, soldier, how many people can your ship take?     Dylan looked at him vaguely. She sleeps two and won't take off withmore'n ten. Why?     His eyes bright and worried, Rossel leaned heavily against the shack.We're overloaded. There are sixty of us and our ship will only takeforty. We came out in groups, we never thought....     Dylan dropped his eyes, swearing silently. You're sure? No baggage, noiron rations; you couldn't get ten more on?     Not a chance. She's only a little ship with one deck—she's all wecould afford.     Dylan whistled. He had begun to feel light-headed. It 'pears thatsomebody's gonna find out first hand what them aliens look like.     It was the wrong thing to say and he knew it. All right, he saidquickly, still staring at the clear-sliced wire, we'll do what we can.Maybe the colony on Three has room. I'll call Bossio and ask.     The colonist had begun to look quite pitifully at the buildings aroundhim and the scurrying people.     Aren't there any fleet ships within radio distance?     Dylan shook his head. The fleet's spread out kind of thin nowadays.Because the other was leaning on him he felt a great irritation, buthe said, as kindly as he could, We'll get 'em all out. One way oranother, we won't leave anybody.     It was then that Rossel saw the wire. Thickly, he asked what hadhappened.     Dylan showed him the two clean ends. Somebody dug it up, cut it, thenburied it again and packed it down real nice.     The damn fool! Rossel exploded.     Who?     Why, one of ... of us, of course. I know nobody ever liked sitting ona live bomb like this, but I never....     You think one of your people did it?     Rossel stared at him. Isn't that obvious?     Why?     Well, they probably thought it was too dangerous, and silly too, likemost government rules. Or maybe one of the kids....  <doc-sep>The snow began falling near noon. There was nothing anybody could dobut stand in the silence and watch it come down in a white rushingwall, and watch the trees and the hills drown in the whiteness, untilthere was nothing on the planet but the buildings and a few warm lightsand the snow.     By one o'clock the visibility was down to zero and Dylan decided totry to contact Bossio again and tell him to hurry. But Bossio stilldidn't answer. Dylan stared long and thoughtfully out the windowthrough the snow at the gray shrouded shapes of bushes and trees whichwere beginning to become horrifying. It must be that Bossio was stilldrunk—maybe sleeping it off before making planetfall on Three. Dylanheld no grudge. Bossio was a kid and alone. It took a special kindof guts to take a ship out into space alone, when Things could bewaiting....     A young girl, pink and lovely in a thick fur jacket, came into theshack and told him breathlessly that her father, Mr. Rush, would liketo know if he wanted sentries posted. Dylan hadn't thought about it buthe said yes right away, beginning to feel both pleased and irritated atthe same time, because now they were coming to him.     He pushed out into the cold and went to find Rossel. With the snow itwas bad enough, but if they were still here when the sun went down theywouldn't have a chance. Most of the men were out stripping down theirship and that would take a while. He wondered why Rossel hadn't yet puta call through to Three, asking about room on the ship there. The onlyanswer he could find was that Rossel knew that there was no room, andhe wanted to put off the answer as long as possible. And, in a way, youcould not blame him.     Rossel was in his cabin with the big, gloomy man—who turned out tobe Rush, the one who had asked about sentries. Rush was methodicallycleaning an old hunting rifle. Rossel was surprisingly full of hope.     Listen, there's a mail ship due in, been due since yesterday. We mightget the rest of the folks out on that.     Dylan shrugged. Don't count on it.     But they have a contract!     The soldier grinned.     The big man, Rush, was paying no attention. Quite suddenly he said:Who cut that wire, Cap?  <doc-sep>The first contact Man had ever had with an intelligent alien raceoccurred out on the perimeter in a small quiet place a long way fromhome. Late in the year 2360—the exact date remains unknown—an alienforce attacked and destroyed the colony at Lupus V. The wreckage andthe dead were found by a mailship which flashed off screaming for thearmy.     When the army came it found this: Of the seventy registered colonists,thirty-one were dead. The rest, including some women and children,were missing. All technical equipment, all radios, guns, machines,even books, were also missing. The buildings had been burned, so werethe bodies. Apparently the aliens had a heat ray. What else they had,nobody knew. After a few days of walking around in the ash, one soldierfinally stumbled on something.     For security reasons, there was a detonator in one of the mainbuildings. In case of enemy attack, Security had provided a bomb to beburied in the center of each colony, because it was important to blowa whole village to hell and gone rather than let a hostile alien learnvital facts about human technology and body chemistry. There was a bombat Lupus V too, and though it had been detonated it had not blown. Thedetonating wire had been cut.     In the heart of the camp, hidden from view under twelve inches ofearth, the wire had been dug up and cut.     The army could not understand it and had no time to try. After fivehundred years of peace and anti-war conditioning the army was small,weak and without respect. Therefore, the army did nothing but spreadthe news, and Man began to fall back.     In a thickening, hastening stream he came back from the hard-wonstars, blowing up his homes behind him, stunned and cursing. Most ofthe colonists got out in time. A few, the farthest and loneliest, diedin fire before the army ships could reach them. And the men in thoseships, drinkers and gamblers and veterans of nothing, the dregs of asociety which had grown beyond them, were for a long while the onlydefense Earth had.     This was the message Captain Dylan had brought, come out from Earthwith a bottle on his hip.  <doc-sep>   Bridge Crossing     BY DAVE DRYFOOS     Illustrated by HARRISON     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction May 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      He knew the city was organized for his     individual defense, for it had been that     way since he was born. But who was his enemy?      In 1849, the mist that sometimes rolled through the Golden Gate wasknown as fog. In 2149, it had become far more frequent, and was knownas smog. By 2349, it was fog again.     But tonight there was smoke mixed with the fog. Roddie could smell it.Somewhere in the forested ruins, fire was burning.     He wasn't worried. The small blaze that smoldered behind him on thecracked concrete floor had consumed everything burnable within blocks;what remained of the gutted concrete office building from which hepeered was fire-proof.     But Roddie was himself aflame with anger. As always when Invaders brokein from the north, he'd been left behind with his nurse, Molly, whilethe soldiers went out to fight.     And nowadays Molly's presence wasn't the comfort it used to be. He feltalmost ready to jump out of his skin, the way she rocked and knitted inthat grating ruined chair, saying over and over again, The soldiersdon't      want     little boys. The soldiers don't      want     little boys. Thesoldiers don't—     I'm      not     a little boy! Roddie suddenly shouted. I'm full-grown andI've never even      seen     an Invader. Why won't you let me go and fight?     Fiercely he crossed the bare, gritty floor and shook Molly's shoulder.She rattled under his jarring hand, and abruptly changed the subject.     A is for Atom, B is for Bomb, C is for Corpse— she chanted.     Roddie reached into her shapeless dress and pinched. Lately that hadhelped her over these spells. But this time, though it stopped thekindergarten song, the treatment only started something worse.     Wuzzums hungry? Molly cooed, still rocking.     Utterly disgusted, Roddie ripped her head off her neck.     It was a completely futile gesture. The complicated mind that hadcared for him and taught him speech and the alphabet hadn't made him amechanic, and his only tool was a broken-handled screwdriver.  <doc-sep>He was still tinkering when the soldiers came in. While they lined upalong the wall, he put Molly's head back on her neck.     She gaped coyly at the new arrivals. Hello, boys, she simpered.Looking for a good time?     Roddie slapped her to silence, reflecting briefly that there were manythings he didn't know about Molly. But there was work to be done.Carefully he framed the ritual words she'd taught him: Soldiers, cometo attention and report!     There were eleven of them, six feet tall, with four limbs and eightextremities. They stood uniformly, the thumbs on each pair of handstouching along the center line of the legs, front feet turned out at anangle of forty-five degrees, rear feet turned inward at thirty degrees.     Sir, they chorused, we have met the enemy and he is ours.     He inspected them. All were scratched and dented, but one in particularseemed badly damaged. His left arm was almost severed at the shoulder.     Come here, fellow, Roddie said. Let's see if I can fix that.     The soldier took a step forward, lurched suddenly, stopped, and whippedout a bayonet.     Death to Invaders! he yelled, and charged crazily.      Molly stepped in front of him.     You aren't being very nice to my baby, she murmured, and thrust herknitting needles into his eyes.     Roddie jumped behind him, knocked off his helmet, and pressed a softspot on his conical skull. The soldier collapsed to the floor.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the fate of Captain Dylan in the story SOLDIER BOY?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"""What role does the army play in SOLDIER BOY?"" [SEP] <s>   SOLDIER BOY     By MICHAEL SHAARA     Illustrated by EMSH     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction July 1953.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        It's one thing to laugh at a man because his job is useless       and outdated—another to depend on him when it suddenly isn't.          In the northland, deep, and in a great cave, by an everburning firethe Warrior sleeps. For this is the resting time, the time of peace,and so shall it be for a thousand years. And yet we shall summon himagain, my children, when we are sore in need, and out of the north hewill come, and again and again, each time we call, out of the dark andthe cold, with the fire in his hands, he will come.       —      Scandinavian legend        Throughout the night, thick clouds had been piling in the north; inthe morning, it was misty and cold. By eight o'clock a wet, heavy,snow-smelling breeze had begun to set in, and because the crops wereall down and the winter planting done, the colonists brewed hot coffeeand remained inside. The wind blew steadily, icily from the north. Itwas well below freezing when, some time after nine, an army ship landedin a field near the settlement.     There was still time. There were some last brief moments in which thecolonists could act and feel as they had always done. They thereforegrumbled in annoyance. They wanted no soldiers here. The few who hadconvenient windows stared out with distaste and a mild curiosity, butno one went out to greet them.     After a while a rather tall, frail-looking man came out of the shipand stood upon the hard ground looking toward the village. He remainedthere, waiting stiffly, his face turned from the wind. It was a sillything to do. He was obviously not coming in, either out of pride orjust plain orneriness.     Well, I never, a nice lady said.     What's he just      standing     there for? another lady said.     And all of them thought: well, God knows what's in the mind of asoldier, and right away many people concluded that he must be drunk.The seed of peace was deeply planted in these people, in the childrenand the women, very, very deep. And because they had been taught, oh socarefully, to hate war they had also been taught, quite incidentally,to despise soldiers.     The lone man kept standing in the freezing wind.  <doc-sep>The first contact Man had ever had with an intelligent alien raceoccurred out on the perimeter in a small quiet place a long way fromhome. Late in the year 2360—the exact date remains unknown—an alienforce attacked and destroyed the colony at Lupus V. The wreckage andthe dead were found by a mailship which flashed off screaming for thearmy.     When the army came it found this: Of the seventy registered colonists,thirty-one were dead. The rest, including some women and children,were missing. All technical equipment, all radios, guns, machines,even books, were also missing. The buildings had been burned, so werethe bodies. Apparently the aliens had a heat ray. What else they had,nobody knew. After a few days of walking around in the ash, one soldierfinally stumbled on something.     For security reasons, there was a detonator in one of the mainbuildings. In case of enemy attack, Security had provided a bomb to beburied in the center of each colony, because it was important to blowa whole village to hell and gone rather than let a hostile alien learnvital facts about human technology and body chemistry. There was a bombat Lupus V too, and though it had been detonated it had not blown. Thedetonating wire had been cut.     In the heart of the camp, hidden from view under twelve inches ofearth, the wire had been dug up and cut.     The army could not understand it and had no time to try. After fivehundred years of peace and anti-war conditioning the army was small,weak and without respect. Therefore, the army did nothing but spreadthe news, and Man began to fall back.     In a thickening, hastening stream he came back from the hard-wonstars, blowing up his homes behind him, stunned and cursing. Most ofthe colonists got out in time. A few, the farthest and loneliest, diedin fire before the army ships could reach them. And the men in thoseships, drinkers and gamblers and veterans of nothing, the dregs of asociety which had grown beyond them, were for a long while the onlydefense Earth had.     This was the message Captain Dylan had brought, come out from Earthwith a bottle on his hip.  <doc-sep>   Bridge Crossing     BY DAVE DRYFOOS     Illustrated by HARRISON     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction May 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      He knew the city was organized for his     individual defense, for it had been that     way since he was born. But who was his enemy?      In 1849, the mist that sometimes rolled through the Golden Gate wasknown as fog. In 2149, it had become far more frequent, and was knownas smog. By 2349, it was fog again.     But tonight there was smoke mixed with the fog. Roddie could smell it.Somewhere in the forested ruins, fire was burning.     He wasn't worried. The small blaze that smoldered behind him on thecracked concrete floor had consumed everything burnable within blocks;what remained of the gutted concrete office building from which hepeered was fire-proof.     But Roddie was himself aflame with anger. As always when Invaders brokein from the north, he'd been left behind with his nurse, Molly, whilethe soldiers went out to fight.     And nowadays Molly's presence wasn't the comfort it used to be. He feltalmost ready to jump out of his skin, the way she rocked and knitted inthat grating ruined chair, saying over and over again, The soldiersdon't      want     little boys. The soldiers don't      want     little boys. Thesoldiers don't—     I'm      not     a little boy! Roddie suddenly shouted. I'm full-grown andI've never even      seen     an Invader. Why won't you let me go and fight?     Fiercely he crossed the bare, gritty floor and shook Molly's shoulder.She rattled under his jarring hand, and abruptly changed the subject.     A is for Atom, B is for Bomb, C is for Corpse— she chanted.     Roddie reached into her shapeless dress and pinched. Lately that hadhelped her over these spells. But this time, though it stopped thekindergarten song, the treatment only started something worse.     Wuzzums hungry? Molly cooed, still rocking.     Utterly disgusted, Roddie ripped her head off her neck.     It was a completely futile gesture. The complicated mind that hadcared for him and taught him speech and the alphabet hadn't made him amechanic, and his only tool was a broken-handled screwdriver.  <doc-sep>He was still tinkering when the soldiers came in. While they lined upalong the wall, he put Molly's head back on her neck.     She gaped coyly at the new arrivals. Hello, boys, she simpered.Looking for a good time?     Roddie slapped her to silence, reflecting briefly that there were manythings he didn't know about Molly. But there was work to be done.Carefully he framed the ritual words she'd taught him: Soldiers, cometo attention and report!     There were eleven of them, six feet tall, with four limbs and eightextremities. They stood uniformly, the thumbs on each pair of handstouching along the center line of the legs, front feet turned out at anangle of forty-five degrees, rear feet turned inward at thirty degrees.     Sir, they chorused, we have met the enemy and he is ours.     He inspected them. All were scratched and dented, but one in particularseemed badly damaged. His left arm was almost severed at the shoulder.     Come here, fellow, Roddie said. Let's see if I can fix that.     The soldier took a step forward, lurched suddenly, stopped, and whippedout a bayonet.     Death to Invaders! he yelled, and charged crazily.      Molly stepped in front of him.     You aren't being very nice to my baby, she murmured, and thrust herknitting needles into his eyes.     Roddie jumped behind him, knocked off his helmet, and pressed a softspot on his conical skull. The soldier collapsed to the floor.  <doc-sep>Dylan wanted to go on about that, to remind them that nobody had wantedthe army, that the fleet had grown smaller and smaller ... but this wasnot the time. It was ten-thirty already and the damned aliens might becoming in right now for all he knew, and all they did was talk. He hadrealized a long time ago that no peace-loving nation in the historyof Earth had ever kept itself strong, and although peace was a nobledream, it was ended now and it was time to move.     We'd better get going, he finally said, and there was quiet.Lieutenant Bossio has gone on to your sister colony at Planet Three ofthis system. He'll return to pick me up by nightfall and I'm instructedto have you gone by then.     For a long moment they waited, and then one man abruptly walked off andthe rest followed quickly; in a moment they were all gone. One or twostopped long enough to complain about the fleet, and the big gloomy mansaid he wanted guns, that's all, and there wouldn't nobody get him offhis planet. When he left, Dylan breathed with relief and went out tocheck the bomb, grateful for the action.     Most of it had to be done in the open. He found a metal bar in theradio shack and began chopping at the frozen ground, following thewire. It was the first thing he had done with his hands in weeks, andit felt fine.     Dylan had been called up out of a bar—he and Bossio—and told what hadhappened, and in three weeks now they had cleared four colonies. Thiswould be the last, and the tension here was beginning to get to him.After thirty years of hanging around and playing like the town drunk,a man could not be expected to rush out and plug the breach, just likethat. It would take time.     He rested, sweating, took a pull from the bottle on his hip.     Before they sent him out on this trip they had made him a captain.Well, that was nice. After thirty years he was a captain. For thirtyyears he had bummed all over the west end of space, had scraped his wayalong the outer edges of Mankind, had waited and dozed and patrolledand got drunk, waiting always for something to happen. There were a lotof ways to pass the time while you waited for something to happen, andhe had done them all.     Once he had even studied military tactics.     He could not help smiling at that, even now. Damn it, he'd been green.But he'd been only nineteen when his father died—of a hernia, of acrazy fool thing like a hernia that killed him just because he'd workedtoo long on a heavy planet—and in those days the anti-war conditioningout on the Rim was not very strong. They talked a lot about guardiansof the frontier, and they got him and some other kids and a broken-downdoctor. And ... now he was a captain.     He bent his back savagely, digging at the ground. You wait and you waitand the edge goes off. This thing he had waited for all those damn dayswas upon him now and there was nothing he could do but say the hellwith it and go home. Somewhere along the line, in some dark corner ofthe bars or the jails, in one of the million soul-murdering insultswhich are reserved especially for peacetime soldiers, he had lost thecore of himself, and it didn't particularly matter. That was the point:it made no particular difference if he never got it back. He owednobody. He was tugging at the wire and trying to think of somethingpleasant from the old days, when the wire came loose in his hands.     Although he had been, in his cynical way, expecting it, for a moment itthrew him and he just stared. The end was clean and bright. The wirehad just been cut.  <doc-sep>Most of the cousins gasped as the truth began to percolate through.     I knew from the very beginning, Conrad finished, that I didn'thave to do anything at all. I just had to wait and you would destroyyourselves.     I don't understand, Bartholomew protested, searching the faces of thecousins closest to him. What does he mean, we have never existed?We're here, aren't we? What—     Shut up! Raymond snapped. He turned on Martin. You don't seemsurprised.     The old man grinned. I'm not. I figured it all out years ago.     At first, he had wondered what he should do. Would it be better tothrow them into a futile panic by telling them or to do nothing? Hehad decided on the latter; that was the role they had assigned him—towatch and wait and keep out of things—and that was the role he wouldplay.     You knew all the time and you didn't tell us! Raymond spluttered.After we'd been so good to you, making a gentleman out of you insteadof a criminal.... That's right, he snarled, a criminal! An alcoholic,a thief, a derelict! How do you like that?     Sounds like a rich, full life, Martin said wistfully.     What an exciting existence they must have done him out of! But then, hecouldn't help thinking, he—he and Conrad together, of course—had donethem out of      any     kind of existence. It wasn't his responsibility,though; he had done nothing but let matters take whatever course wasdestined for them. If only he could be sure that it was the bettercourse, perhaps he wouldn't feel that nagging sense of guilt insidehim. Strange—where, in his hermetic life, could he possibly havedeveloped such a queer thing as a conscience?     Then we've wasted all this time, Ninian sobbed, all this energy, allthis money, for nothing!     But you were nothing to begin with, Martin told them. And then,after a pause, he added, I only wish I could be sure there had beensome purpose to this.     He didn't know whether it was approaching death that dimmed his sight,or whether the frightened crowd that pressed around him was growingshadowy.     I wish I could feel that some good had been done in letting you bewiped out of existence, he went on voicing his thoughts. But I knowthat the same thing that happened to your worlds and my world willhappen all over again. To other people, in other times, but again. It'sbound to happen. There isn't any hope for humanity.     One man couldn't really change the course of human history, he toldhimself. Two men, that was—one real, one a shadow.     Conrad came close to the old man's bed. He was almost transparent.     No, he said, there is hope. They didn't know the time transmitterworks two ways. I used it for going into the past only once—just thisonce. But I've gone into the future with it many times. And— hepressed Martin's hand—believe me, what I did—what      we     did, you andI—serves a purpose. It will change things for the better. Everythingis going to be all right.  <doc-sep>An obscenely cheerful expression upon his gaunt, not too well shavenface, Captain Dylan perched himself upon the edge of a table andlistened, one long booted leg swinging idly. One by one the colonistswere beginning to understand. War is huge and comes with greatsuddenness and always without reason, and there is inevitably a wait,between acts, between the news and the motion, the fear and the rage.     Dylan waited. These people were taking it well, much better than thosein the cities had taken it. But then, these were pioneers. Dylangrinned. Pioneers. Before you settle a planet you boil it and bakeit and purge it of all possible disease. Then you step down gingerlyand inflate your plastic houses, which harden and become warm andimpregnable; and send your machines out to plant and harvest; and setup automatic factories to transmute dirt into coffee; and, without everhaving lifted a finger, you have braved the wilderness, hewed a homeout of the living rock and become a pioneer. Dylan grinned again. Butat least this was better than the wailing of the cities.     This Dylan thought, although he was himself no fighter, no man at allby any standards. This he thought because he was a soldier and anoutcast; to every drunken man the fall of the sober is a happy thing.He stirred restlessly.     By this time the colonists had begun to realize that there wasn't muchto say, and a tall, handsome woman was murmuring distractedly: Lupus,Lupus—doesn't that mean wolves or something?     Dylan began to wish they would get moving, these pioneers. It was verypossible that the aliens would be here soon, and there was no need fordiscussion. There was only one thing to do and that was to clear thehell out, quickly and without argument. They began to see it.     But, when the fear had died down, the resentment came. A number ofwomen began to cluster around Dylan and complain, working up theiranger. Dylan said nothing. Then the man Rossel pushed forward andconfronted him, speaking with a vast annoyance.     See here, soldier, this is our planet. I mean to say, this is our      home     . We demand some protection from the fleet. By God, we've beenpaying the freight for you boys all these years and it's high time youearned your keep. We demand....     It went on and on while Dylan looked at the clock and waited. He hopedthat he could end this quickly. A big gloomy man was in front of himnow and giving him that name of ancient contempt, soldier boy. Thegloomy man wanted to know where the fleet was.     There is no fleet. There are a few hundred half-shot old tubs thatwere obsolete before you were born. There are four or five new jobs forthe brass and the government. That's all the fleet there is.  <doc-sep>Roddie salvaged and returned Molly's needles. Then he examined thepatient, tearing him apart as a boy dismembers an alarm clock.     It was lucky he did. The left arm's pair of hands suddenly writhed offthe floor in an effort to choke him. But because the arm was detachedat the shoulder and therefore blind, he escaped the clutching onslaughtand could goad the reflexing hands into assaulting one anotherharmlessly.      Meanwhile, the other soldiers left, except for one, apparently anothercasualty, who stumbled on his way out and fell into the fire. By thetime Roddie had hauled him clear, damage was beyond repair. Roddieswore, then decided to try combining parts of this casualty with piecesof the other to make a whole one.     To get more light for the operation, he poked up the fire. Roddie wasnew at his work, and took it seriously. It alarmed him to watch thesoldiers melt away, gradually succumbing to battle damage, shamedhim to see the empty ruins burn section by section as the Invadersrepeatedly broke through and had to be burned out.     Soon there would be nothing left of the      Private Property Keep Out     that, according to Molly's bedtime story, the Owners had entrusted tothem when driven away by radioactivity. Soon the soldiers themselveswould be gone. None would remain to guard the city but a few strayedservants like Molly, and an occasional Civil Defender.     And himself, Roddie reflected, spitting savagely into the fire. Hemight remain. But how he fitted into the picture, he didn't know. AndMolly, who claimed to have found him in the ruins after a fight withInvaders twenty years before, couldn't or wouldn't say.     Well, for as long as possible, Roddie decided, he'd do his duty asthe others did theirs—single-mindedly. Eventually the soldiers mightaccept him as one of themselves; meanwhile, this newly attempted firstaid was useful to them.     He gave the fire a final poke and then paused, wondering if, whenheated, his screwdriver could make an unfastened end of wire stick onthe grayish spot where it seemed to belong.     Stretching prone to blow the embers hot so he could try out his newidea, Roddie got too close to the flames. Instantly the room filledwith the stench of singed hair. Roddie drew angrily back, beating outthe sparks in his uncut blond mane.     As he stood slapping his head and muttering, a deranged Civil Defensefirefighter popped into the doorway and covered him with carbon dioxidefoam.     Roddie fled. His life-long friends were not merely wearing out, theywere unbearably wearing.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] ""What role does the army play in SOLDIER BOY?""","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What does the cut wire symbolize in SOLDIER BOY? [SEP] <s>She had stopped, trembling and gasping. Roddie clung just below herand looked dazedly around. There was nothing in sight but fog, piercedby the rapier of rusted wire supporting them. Neither end of it was insight.     Upward lay success, if death were not nearer on the cable. No soldierhad ever come even this far, for soldiers, as he'd told Ida, never leftthe city, were not built to do so. But      he     was here; with luck, hecould capitalize on the differences that had plagued him so long.     Go on! he ordered hoarsely. Move!     There was neither answer nor result. He broke off an end of loosenedwire and jabbed her rear. Ida gasped and crawled on.     Up and up they went, chilled, wet, bleeding, pain-racked, exhausted.Never had Roddie felt so thoroughly the defects of his peculiarnon-mechanical construction.     Without realizing it, he acquired a new purpose, a duty as compellingas that of any soldier or fire-watcher. He had to keep that tremblingbody of his alive, mount to the tall rust tower overhead.     He climbed and he made Ida climb, till, at nightmare's end, the fogthinned and they came into clear, windswept air and clawed up the lasthundred feet to sanctuary.     They were completely spent. Without word or thought they crept withinthe tower, huddled together for warmth on its dank steel deck, andslept for several hours.  <doc-sep>The first contact Man had ever had with an intelligent alien raceoccurred out on the perimeter in a small quiet place a long way fromhome. Late in the year 2360—the exact date remains unknown—an alienforce attacked and destroyed the colony at Lupus V. The wreckage andthe dead were found by a mailship which flashed off screaming for thearmy.     When the army came it found this: Of the seventy registered colonists,thirty-one were dead. The rest, including some women and children,were missing. All technical equipment, all radios, guns, machines,even books, were also missing. The buildings had been burned, so werethe bodies. Apparently the aliens had a heat ray. What else they had,nobody knew. After a few days of walking around in the ash, one soldierfinally stumbled on something.     For security reasons, there was a detonator in one of the mainbuildings. In case of enemy attack, Security had provided a bomb to beburied in the center of each colony, because it was important to blowa whole village to hell and gone rather than let a hostile alien learnvital facts about human technology and body chemistry. There was a bombat Lupus V too, and though it had been detonated it had not blown. Thedetonating wire had been cut.     In the heart of the camp, hidden from view under twelve inches ofearth, the wire had been dug up and cut.     The army could not understand it and had no time to try. After fivehundred years of peace and anti-war conditioning the army was small,weak and without respect. Therefore, the army did nothing but spreadthe news, and Man began to fall back.     In a thickening, hastening stream he came back from the hard-wonstars, blowing up his homes behind him, stunned and cursing. Most ofthe colonists got out in time. A few, the farthest and loneliest, diedin fire before the army ships could reach them. And the men in thoseships, drinkers and gamblers and veterans of nothing, the dregs of asociety which had grown beyond them, were for a long while the onlydefense Earth had.     This was the message Captain Dylan had brought, come out from Earthwith a bottle on his hip.  <doc-sep>Roddie salvaged and returned Molly's needles. Then he examined thepatient, tearing him apart as a boy dismembers an alarm clock.     It was lucky he did. The left arm's pair of hands suddenly writhed offthe floor in an effort to choke him. But because the arm was detachedat the shoulder and therefore blind, he escaped the clutching onslaughtand could goad the reflexing hands into assaulting one anotherharmlessly.      Meanwhile, the other soldiers left, except for one, apparently anothercasualty, who stumbled on his way out and fell into the fire. By thetime Roddie had hauled him clear, damage was beyond repair. Roddieswore, then decided to try combining parts of this casualty with piecesof the other to make a whole one.     To get more light for the operation, he poked up the fire. Roddie wasnew at his work, and took it seriously. It alarmed him to watch thesoldiers melt away, gradually succumbing to battle damage, shamedhim to see the empty ruins burn section by section as the Invadersrepeatedly broke through and had to be burned out.     Soon there would be nothing left of the      Private Property Keep Out     that, according to Molly's bedtime story, the Owners had entrusted tothem when driven away by radioactivity. Soon the soldiers themselveswould be gone. None would remain to guard the city but a few strayedservants like Molly, and an occasional Civil Defender.     And himself, Roddie reflected, spitting savagely into the fire. Hemight remain. But how he fitted into the picture, he didn't know. AndMolly, who claimed to have found him in the ruins after a fight withInvaders twenty years before, couldn't or wouldn't say.     Well, for as long as possible, Roddie decided, he'd do his duty asthe others did theirs—single-mindedly. Eventually the soldiers mightaccept him as one of themselves; meanwhile, this newly attempted firstaid was useful to them.     He gave the fire a final poke and then paused, wondering if, whenheated, his screwdriver could make an unfastened end of wire stick onthe grayish spot where it seemed to belong.     Stretching prone to blow the embers hot so he could try out his newidea, Roddie got too close to the flames. Instantly the room filledwith the stench of singed hair. Roddie drew angrily back, beating outthe sparks in his uncut blond mane.     As he stood slapping his head and muttering, a deranged Civil Defensefirefighter popped into the doorway and covered him with carbon dioxidefoam.     Roddie fled. His life-long friends were not merely wearing out, theywere unbearably wearing.  <doc-sep>Dylan sat for a long while by the radio shack, holding the ends in hishands. He reached almost automatically for the bottle on his hip andthen, for the first time he could remember, let it go. This was real,there was no time for that.     When Rossel came up, Dylan was still sitting. Rossel was so excited hedid not notice the wire.     Listen, soldier, how many people can your ship take?     Dylan looked at him vaguely. She sleeps two and won't take off withmore'n ten. Why?     His eyes bright and worried, Rossel leaned heavily against the shack.We're overloaded. There are sixty of us and our ship will only takeforty. We came out in groups, we never thought....     Dylan dropped his eyes, swearing silently. You're sure? No baggage, noiron rations; you couldn't get ten more on?     Not a chance. She's only a little ship with one deck—she's all wecould afford.     Dylan whistled. He had begun to feel light-headed. It 'pears thatsomebody's gonna find out first hand what them aliens look like.     It was the wrong thing to say and he knew it. All right, he saidquickly, still staring at the clear-sliced wire, we'll do what we can.Maybe the colony on Three has room. I'll call Bossio and ask.     The colonist had begun to look quite pitifully at the buildings aroundhim and the scurrying people.     Aren't there any fleet ships within radio distance?     Dylan shook his head. The fleet's spread out kind of thin nowadays.Because the other was leaning on him he felt a great irritation, buthe said, as kindly as he could, We'll get 'em all out. One way oranother, we won't leave anybody.     It was then that Rossel saw the wire. Thickly, he asked what hadhappened.     Dylan showed him the two clean ends. Somebody dug it up, cut it, thenburied it again and packed it down real nice.     The damn fool! Rossel exploded.     Who?     Why, one of ... of us, of course. I know nobody ever liked sitting ona live bomb like this, but I never....     You think one of your people did it?     Rossel stared at him. Isn't that obvious?     Why?     Well, they probably thought it was too dangerous, and silly too, likemost government rules. Or maybe one of the kids....  <doc-sep>Dylan wanted to go on about that, to remind them that nobody had wantedthe army, that the fleet had grown smaller and smaller ... but this wasnot the time. It was ten-thirty already and the damned aliens might becoming in right now for all he knew, and all they did was talk. He hadrealized a long time ago that no peace-loving nation in the historyof Earth had ever kept itself strong, and although peace was a nobledream, it was ended now and it was time to move.     We'd better get going, he finally said, and there was quiet.Lieutenant Bossio has gone on to your sister colony at Planet Three ofthis system. He'll return to pick me up by nightfall and I'm instructedto have you gone by then.     For a long moment they waited, and then one man abruptly walked off andthe rest followed quickly; in a moment they were all gone. One or twostopped long enough to complain about the fleet, and the big gloomy mansaid he wanted guns, that's all, and there wouldn't nobody get him offhis planet. When he left, Dylan breathed with relief and went out tocheck the bomb, grateful for the action.     Most of it had to be done in the open. He found a metal bar in theradio shack and began chopping at the frozen ground, following thewire. It was the first thing he had done with his hands in weeks, andit felt fine.     Dylan had been called up out of a bar—he and Bossio—and told what hadhappened, and in three weeks now they had cleared four colonies. Thiswould be the last, and the tension here was beginning to get to him.After thirty years of hanging around and playing like the town drunk,a man could not be expected to rush out and plug the breach, just likethat. It would take time.     He rested, sweating, took a pull from the bottle on his hip.     Before they sent him out on this trip they had made him a captain.Well, that was nice. After thirty years he was a captain. For thirtyyears he had bummed all over the west end of space, had scraped his wayalong the outer edges of Mankind, had waited and dozed and patrolledand got drunk, waiting always for something to happen. There were a lotof ways to pass the time while you waited for something to happen, andhe had done them all.     Once he had even studied military tactics.     He could not help smiling at that, even now. Damn it, he'd been green.But he'd been only nineteen when his father died—of a hernia, of acrazy fool thing like a hernia that killed him just because he'd workedtoo long on a heavy planet—and in those days the anti-war conditioningout on the Rim was not very strong. They talked a lot about guardiansof the frontier, and they got him and some other kids and a broken-downdoctor. And ... now he was a captain.     He bent his back savagely, digging at the ground. You wait and you waitand the edge goes off. This thing he had waited for all those damn dayswas upon him now and there was nothing he could do but say the hellwith it and go home. Somewhere along the line, in some dark corner ofthe bars or the jails, in one of the million soul-murdering insultswhich are reserved especially for peacetime soldiers, he had lost thecore of himself, and it didn't particularly matter. That was the point:it made no particular difference if he never got it back. He owednobody. He was tugging at the wire and trying to think of somethingpleasant from the old days, when the wire came loose in his hands.     Although he had been, in his cynical way, expecting it, for a moment itthrew him and he just stared. The end was clean and bright. The wirehad just been cut.  <doc-sep>   Bridge Crossing     BY DAVE DRYFOOS     Illustrated by HARRISON     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction May 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      He knew the city was organized for his     individual defense, for it had been that     way since he was born. But who was his enemy?      In 1849, the mist that sometimes rolled through the Golden Gate wasknown as fog. In 2149, it had become far more frequent, and was knownas smog. By 2349, it was fog again.     But tonight there was smoke mixed with the fog. Roddie could smell it.Somewhere in the forested ruins, fire was burning.     He wasn't worried. The small blaze that smoldered behind him on thecracked concrete floor had consumed everything burnable within blocks;what remained of the gutted concrete office building from which hepeered was fire-proof.     But Roddie was himself aflame with anger. As always when Invaders brokein from the north, he'd been left behind with his nurse, Molly, whilethe soldiers went out to fight.     And nowadays Molly's presence wasn't the comfort it used to be. He feltalmost ready to jump out of his skin, the way she rocked and knitted inthat grating ruined chair, saying over and over again, The soldiersdon't      want     little boys. The soldiers don't      want     little boys. Thesoldiers don't—     I'm      not     a little boy! Roddie suddenly shouted. I'm full-grown andI've never even      seen     an Invader. Why won't you let me go and fight?     Fiercely he crossed the bare, gritty floor and shook Molly's shoulder.She rattled under his jarring hand, and abruptly changed the subject.     A is for Atom, B is for Bomb, C is for Corpse— she chanted.     Roddie reached into her shapeless dress and pinched. Lately that hadhelped her over these spells. But this time, though it stopped thekindergarten song, the treatment only started something worse.     Wuzzums hungry? Molly cooed, still rocking.     Utterly disgusted, Roddie ripped her head off her neck.     It was a completely futile gesture. The complicated mind that hadcared for him and taught him speech and the alphabet hadn't made him amechanic, and his only tool was a broken-handled screwdriver.  <doc-sep>It was then that Dylan told him about the wire on Lupus V. Rossel wassilent. Involuntarily, he glanced at the sky, then he said shakily,Maybe an animal?     Dylan shook his head. No animal did that. Wouldn't have buried it, orfound it in the first place. Heck of a coincidence, don't you think?The wire at Lupus was cut just before an alien attack, and now this oneis cut too—newly cut.     The colonist put one hand to his mouth, his eyes wide and white.     So something, said Dylan, knew enough about this camp to know thata bomb was buried here and also to know why it was here. And thatsomething didn't want the camp destroyed and so came right into thecenter of the camp, traced the wire, dug it up and cut it. And thenwalked right out again.     Listen, said Rossel, I'd better go ask.     He started away but Dylan caught his arm.     Tell them to arm, he said, and try not to scare hell out of them.I'll be with you as soon as I've spliced this wire.     Rossel nodded and went off, running. Dylan knelt with the metal in hishands.     He began to feel that, by God, he was getting cold. He realized thathe'd better go inside soon, but the wire had to be spliced. That wasperhaps the most important thing he could do now, splice the wire.     All right, he asked himself for the thousandth time, who cut it? How?Telepathy? Could they somehow control one of us?     No. If they controlled one, then they could control all, and then therewould be no need for an attack. But you don't know, you don't reallyknow.     Were they small? Little animals?     Unlikely. Biology said that really intelligent life required a sizablebrain and you would have to expect an alien to be at least as largeas a dog. And every form of life on this planet had been screened longbefore a colony had been allowed in. If any new animals had suddenlyshown up, Rossel would certainly know about it.     He would ask Rossel. He would damn sure have to ask Rossel.     He finished splicing the wire and tucked it into the ground. Then hestraightened up and, before he went into the radio shack, he pulled outhis pistol. He checked it, primed it, and tried to remember the lasttime he had fired it. He never had—he never had fired a gun.  <doc-sep>He was still tinkering when the soldiers came in. While they lined upalong the wall, he put Molly's head back on her neck.     She gaped coyly at the new arrivals. Hello, boys, she simpered.Looking for a good time?     Roddie slapped her to silence, reflecting briefly that there were manythings he didn't know about Molly. But there was work to be done.Carefully he framed the ritual words she'd taught him: Soldiers, cometo attention and report!     There were eleven of them, six feet tall, with four limbs and eightextremities. They stood uniformly, the thumbs on each pair of handstouching along the center line of the legs, front feet turned out at anangle of forty-five degrees, rear feet turned inward at thirty degrees.     Sir, they chorused, we have met the enemy and he is ours.     He inspected them. All were scratched and dented, but one in particularseemed badly damaged. His left arm was almost severed at the shoulder.     Come here, fellow, Roddie said. Let's see if I can fix that.     The soldier took a step forward, lurched suddenly, stopped, and whippedout a bayonet.     Death to Invaders! he yelled, and charged crazily.      Molly stepped in front of him.     You aren't being very nice to my baby, she murmured, and thrust herknitting needles into his eyes.     Roddie jumped behind him, knocked off his helmet, and pressed a softspot on his conical skull. The soldier collapsed to the floor.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What does the cut wire symbolize in SOLDIER BOY?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in Butterfly 9? [SEP] <s>   Butterfly 9     By DONALD KEITH     Illustrated by GAUGHAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction January 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Jeff needed a job and this man had a job to       offer—one where giant economy-size trouble       had labels like fakemake, bumsy and peekage!        I     At first, Jeff scarcely noticed the bold-looking man at the next table.Nor did Ann. Their minds were busy with Jeff's troubles.     You're still the smartest color engineer in television, Ann told Jeffas they dallied with their food. You'll bounce back. Now eat yoursupper.     This beanery is too noisy and hot, he grumbled. I can't eat. Can'ttalk. Can't think. He took a silver pillbox from his pocket andfumbled for a black one. Those were vitamin pills; the big red andyellow ones were sleeping capsules. He gulped the pill.     Ann looked disapproving in a wifely way. Lately you chew pills likepopcorn, she said. Do you really need so many?     I need something. I'm sure losing my grip.     Ann stared at him. Baby! How silly! Nothing happened, except you lostyour lease. You'll build up a better company in a new spot. We're youngyet.  <doc-sep>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>Bullen slapped a big fist on the arm of his chair. No fog about this!You're bought and paid for, Elliott! You'll get a fair labor contract,but you do what I say!     Why, the man thinks he owns you. Ann laughed shakily.     You'll find my barmen know their law, Bullen said. This isn't theway I like to recruit. But it was only way to get a man with yourknowledge.     Kersey said politely, You are here illegally, with no immigratepermit or citizen file. Therefore you cannot get work. But Mr. Bullenhas taken an interest in your trouble. Through his influence, you canmake a living. We even set aside an apartment in this building for youto live in. You are really very luxe, do you see?     Jeff's legs felt weak. These highbinders seemed brutally confident. Hewondered how he and Ann would find their way home through the strangestreets. But he put on a bold front.     I don't believe your line about time travel and I don't plan to workfor you, he said. My wife and I are walking out right now. Try andstop us, legally or any other way.     Kersey's smooth old face turned hard. But, unexpectedly, Bullenchuckled deep in his throat. Good pop and bang. Like to see it. Goon, walk out. You hang in trouble, call up here—Butterfly 9, ask forBullen. Whole exchange us. I'll meet you here about eleven tomorrowpre-noon.     Don't hold your breath. Let's go, Ann.     When they were on the sidewalk, Ann took a deep breath. We made it.For a minute, I thought there'd be a brawl. Why did they let us go?     No telling. Maybe they're harmless lunatics—or practical jokers. Helooked over his shoulder as they walked down the street, but there wasno sign of pursuit. It's a long time since supper.  <doc-sep>  And went out like a light.     Arth was shaking my arm. Wantanother      mass     ?     The band was blaring, and fivethousand half-swacked voices wereroaring accompaniment.     In Muenchen steht ein Hofbräuhaus!      Eins, Zwei, G'sufa!      At the      G'sufa     everybody uppedwith their king-size mugs and drankeach other's health.     My head was killing me. This iswhere I came in, or something, Igroaned.     Arth said, That was last night.He looked at me over the rim of hisbeer mug.     Something, somewhere, waswrong. But I didn't care. I finishedmy      mass     and then remembered. I'vegot to get my bag. Oh, my head.Where did we spend last night?     Arth said, and his voice soundedcautious, At my hotel, don't you remember?     Not very well, I admitted. Ifeel lousy. I must have dimmed out.I've got to go to the Bahnhof andget my luggage.     Arth didn't put up an argumenton that. We said good-by and I couldfeel him watching after me as I pushedthrough the tables on the wayout.     At the Bahnhof they could do meno good. There were no hotel roomsavailable in Munich. The head wasgetting worse by the minute. Thefact that they'd somehow managedto lose my bag didn't help. I workedon that project for at least a coupleof hours. Not only wasn't the bagat the luggage checking station, butthe attendant there evidently couldn'tmake heads nor tails of the checkreceipt. He didn't speak English andmy high school German was inadequate,especially accompanied by ablockbusting hangover.     I didn't get anywhere tearing myhair and complaining from one endof the Bahnhof to the other. I drewa blank on the bag.     And the head was getting worseby the minute. I was bleeding todeath through the eyes and insteadof butterflies I had bats in my stomach.Believe me,      nobody     should drinka gallon or more of Marzenbräu. <doc-sep>While the TV voice intoned the poem, growing richer as emotion caughtit up, Celeste looked around her at the others. Frieda, with hertouch of feminine helplessness showing more than ever through herbusiness-like poise. Theodor leaning forward from his scarlet cloakthrown back, smiling the half-smile with which he seemed to face eventhe unknown. Black Edmund, masking a deep uncertainty with a strongshow of decisiveness.     In short, her family. She knew their every quirk and foible. And yetnow they seemed to her a million miles away, figures seen through thewrong end of a telescope.     Were they really a family? Strong sources of mutual strength andsecurity to each other? Or had they merely been playing family,experimenting with their notions of complex marriage like a bunch ofsilly adolescents? Butterflies taking advantage of good weather towing together in a glamorous, artificial dance—until outraged Naturedecided to wipe them out?     As the poem was ending, Celeste saw the door open and Rosalind comeslowly in. The Golden Woman's face was white as the paths she had beentreading.     Just then the TV voice quickened with shock. News! Lunar ObservatoryOne reports that, although Jupiter is just about to pass behind theSun, a good coronagraph of the planet has been obtained. Checked andrechecked, it admits of only one interpretation, which Lunar Onefeels duty-bound to release.      Jupiter's fourteen moons are no longervisible!          The chorus of remarks with which the Wolvers would otherwise havereceived this was checked by one thing: the fact that Rosalind seemednot to hear it. Whatever was on her mind prevented even that incrediblestatement from penetrating.     She walked shakily to the table and put down a briefcase, one end ofwhich was smudged with dirt.     Without looking at them, she said, Ivan left the Deep Space Bartwenty minutes ago, said he was coming straight here. On my way backI searched the path. Midway I found this half-buried in the dirt. Ihad to tug to get it out—almost as if it had been cemented into theground. Do you feel how the dirt seems to be      in     the leather, as ifit had lain for years in the grave?     By now the others were fingering the small case of microfilms they hadseen so many times in Ivan's competent hands. What Rosalind said wastrue. It had a gritty, unwholesome feel to it. Also, it felt strangelyheavy.     And see what's written on it, she added.     They turned it over. Scrawled with white pencil in big, hasty, franticletters were two words:     Going down!  <doc-sep>   HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS     By JIM HARMON     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Every lonely man tries to make friends.     Manet just didn't know when to stop!      William Manet was alone.     In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It wouldgive him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlateloneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take himto start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to beginteaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminablelectures to a bored and captive audience of one.     He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whetherit was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and asdirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal andthink more like a god than any man for generations.     But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearingbore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.     Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was alreadytalking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he hadcut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up andwinked at it whenever he passed that way.     Lately she was winking back at him.     Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh fromhis arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.     No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manetcould only be this lonely on Mars.     Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.     All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middleof the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat,flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in theblack sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moonsand one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The wholegimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one wasneeded here—no human being, at least.     The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn'ttake much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefullyspecified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycombMars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.     They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated peoplefor the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going toisolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manetand his fellows.     The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fareto Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuterservice for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodationsfor couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren'tproviding fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits betweenthe various Overseers. They weren't very providential.     But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offeredwonderful opportunities.     It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship makinga tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning asbright as envy.  <doc-sep>My sarcasm didn't faze him in the least. Rhetorical. It follows thatyou are the only man whose orders McGuire will obey.     Your robotocists can change that, I said. This time, I was giving himmy version of genuine innocence.  [7]  A man has to be a good actor to bea competent double agent, and I didn't want Ravenhurst to know that Iknew a great deal more about the problem than he did.     He shook his head, making his jowls wobble. No, they cannot. Theyrealize now that there should be some way of making that change, butthey failed to see that it would be necessary. Only by completelydraining McGuire's memory banks and refilling them with new data canthis bias be eliminated.     Then why don't they do that?     There are two very good reasons, he said. And there was a shade ofanger in his tone. In the first place, that sort of operation takestime, and it costs money. If we do that, we might as well go ahead andmake the slight changes in structure necessary to incorporate some ofthe improvements that the robotocists now feel are necessary. In otherwords, they might as well go ahead and build the MGYR-8, which isprecisely the thing I hired you to prevent.     It seems you have a point there, Mr. Ravenhurst. He'd hired mebecause things were shaky at Viking. If he lost too much more money onthe McGuire experiment, he stood a good chance of losing his positionas manager. If that happened some of his other managerial contractsmight be canceled, too. Things like that can begin to snowball, andRavenhurst might find himself out of the managerial business entirely.     But, I went on, hasn't the additional wasted time already cost you  [8]  money?     It has. I was reluctant to call you in again—understandably enough, Ithink.     Perfectly. It's mutual.     He ignored me. I even considered going through with the rebuildingwork, now that we have traced down the source of failure of the firstsix models. Unfortunately, that isn't feasible, either. He scowled atme.     It seems, he went on, that McGuire refuses to allow his brain tobe tampered with. The self-preservation 'instinct' has come to thefore. He has refused to let the technicians and robotocists enter hishull, and he has threatened to take off and leave Ceres if any furtherattempts are made to ... ah ... disrupt his thinking processes.     I can't say that I blame him, I said. What do you want me to do? Goto Ceres and tell him to submit like a good boy?     It is too late for that, Mr. Oak. Viking cannot stand any more ofthat kind of drain on its financial resources. I have been banking onthe McGuire-type ships to put Viking Spacecraft ahead of every otherspacecraft company in the System. He looked suddenly very grim andvery determined. Mr. Oak, I am      certain     that the robot ship is theanswer to the transportation problems in the Solar System. For the sakeof every human being in the Solar System, we must get the bugs out ofMcGuire!       What's good for General Bull-moose is good for everybody     , I quotedto myself. I'd have said it out loud,  [9]  but I was fairly certain thatShalimar Ravenhurst was not a student of the classics.     Mr. Oak, I would like you to go to Ceres and co-operate with therobotocists at Viking. When the MGYR-8 is finally built, I want it tobe the prototype for a fast, safe, functional robot spaceship that canbe turned out commercially. You can be of great service, Mr. Oak.     In other words, I've got you over a barrel.     I don't deny it.     You know what my fees are, Mr. Ravenhurst. That's what you'll becharged. I'll expect to be paid weekly; if Viking goes broke, I don'twant to lose more than a week's pay. On the other hand, if the MGYR-8is successful, I will expect a substantial bonus.     How much?     Exactly half of the cost of rebuilding. Half what it would take tobuild a Model 8 right now, and taking a chance on there being no bugsin it.     He considered that, looking grimmer than ever. Then he said: I willdo it on the condition that the bonus be paid off in installments, oneeach six months for three years after the first successful commercialship is built by Viking.     My lawyer will nail you down on that wording, I said, but it's adeal. Is there anything else?     No.     Then I think I'll leave for Ceres before you break a blood vessel.     You continue to amaze me, Mr. Oak, he said. And the soft oiliness  [10]  ofhis voice was the oil of vitriol. Your compassion for your fellowmanis a facet of your personality that I had not seen before. I shallwelcome the opportunity to relax and allow my blood pressure tosubside.     I could almost see Shalimar Ravenhurst suddenly exploding and addinghis own touch of color to the room.     And, on that gladsome thought, I left. I let him have his small verbaltriumph; if he'd known that I'd have taken on the job for almostnothing, he'd really have blown up.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in Butterfly 9?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the location where the events of Butterfly 9 occur? [SEP] <s>   Butterfly 9     By DONALD KEITH     Illustrated by GAUGHAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction January 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Jeff needed a job and this man had a job to       offer—one where giant economy-size trouble       had labels like fakemake, bumsy and peekage!        I     At first, Jeff scarcely noticed the bold-looking man at the next table.Nor did Ann. Their minds were busy with Jeff's troubles.     You're still the smartest color engineer in television, Ann told Jeffas they dallied with their food. You'll bounce back. Now eat yoursupper.     This beanery is too noisy and hot, he grumbled. I can't eat. Can'ttalk. Can't think. He took a silver pillbox from his pocket andfumbled for a black one. Those were vitamin pills; the big red andyellow ones were sleeping capsules. He gulped the pill.     Ann looked disapproving in a wifely way. Lately you chew pills likepopcorn, she said. Do you really need so many?     I need something. I'm sure losing my grip.     Ann stared at him. Baby! How silly! Nothing happened, except you lostyour lease. You'll build up a better company in a new spot. We're youngyet.  <doc-sep>Purnie worked his way down the hill, imploring them to save themselves.The sounds they made carried a new tone, a desperate foreboding ofdeath.     Rhodes! Cabot! Can you hear me?     I—I can't move, Captain. My leg, it's.... My God, we're going todrown!     Look around you, Cabot. Can you see anyone moving?     The men on the beach are nearly buried, Captain. And the rest of ushere in the water—     Forbes. Can you see Forbes? Maybe he's— His sounds were cut off by awavelet gently rolling over his head.     Purnie could wait no longer. The tides were all but covering one of theanimals, and soon the others would be in the same plight. Disregardingthe consequences, he ordered time to stop.     Wading down into the surf, he worked a log off one victim, then hetugged the animal up to the sand. Through blinding tears, Purnie workedslowly and carefully. He knew there was no hurry—at least, not as faras his friends' safety was concerned. No matter what their conditionof life or death was at this moment, it would stay the same way untilhe started time again. He made his way deeper into the orange liquid,where a raised hand signalled the location of a submerged body. Thehand was clutching a large white banner that was tangled among thelogs. Purnie worked the animal free and pulled it ashore.     It was the one who had been carrying the shiny object that spit smoke.     Scarcely noticing his own injured leg, he ferried one victim afteranother until there were no more in the surf. Up on the beach, hestarted unraveling the logs that pinned down the animals caught there.He removed a log from the lap of one, who then remained in a sittingposition, his face contorted into a frozen mask of agony and shock.Another, with the weight removed, rolled over like an iron statue intoa new position. Purnie whimpered in black misery as he surveyed thechaotic scene before him.     At last he could do no more; he felt consciousness slipping away fromhim.     He instinctively knew that if he lost his senses during a period oftime-stopping, events would pick up where they had left off ... withouthim. For Purnie, this would be death. If he had to lose consciousness,he knew he must first resume time.     Step by step he plodded up the little hill, pausing every now and thento consider if this were the moment to start time before it was toolate. With his energy fast draining away, he reached the top of theknoll, and he turned to look down once more on the group below.     Then he knew how much his mind and body had suffered: when he orderedtime to resume, nothing happened.     His heart sank. He wasn't afraid of death, and he knew that if he diedthe oceans would roll again and his friends would move about. But hewanted to see them safe.     He tried to clear his mind for supreme effort. There was no      urging     time to start. He knew he couldn't persuade it by bits and pieces,first slowly then full ahead. Time either progressed or it didn't. Hehad to take one viewpoint or the other.     Then, without knowing exactly when it happened, his mind tookcommand....  <doc-sep>Bullen slapped a big fist on the arm of his chair. No fog about this!You're bought and paid for, Elliott! You'll get a fair labor contract,but you do what I say!     Why, the man thinks he owns you. Ann laughed shakily.     You'll find my barmen know their law, Bullen said. This isn't theway I like to recruit. But it was only way to get a man with yourknowledge.     Kersey said politely, You are here illegally, with no immigratepermit or citizen file. Therefore you cannot get work. But Mr. Bullenhas taken an interest in your trouble. Through his influence, you canmake a living. We even set aside an apartment in this building for youto live in. You are really very luxe, do you see?     Jeff's legs felt weak. These highbinders seemed brutally confident. Hewondered how he and Ann would find their way home through the strangestreets. But he put on a bold front.     I don't believe your line about time travel and I don't plan to workfor you, he said. My wife and I are walking out right now. Try andstop us, legally or any other way.     Kersey's smooth old face turned hard. But, unexpectedly, Bullenchuckled deep in his throat. Good pop and bang. Like to see it. Goon, walk out. You hang in trouble, call up here—Butterfly 9, ask forBullen. Whole exchange us. I'll meet you here about eleven tomorrowpre-noon.     Don't hold your breath. Let's go, Ann.     When they were on the sidewalk, Ann took a deep breath. We made it.For a minute, I thought there'd be a brawl. Why did they let us go?     No telling. Maybe they're harmless lunatics—or practical jokers. Helooked over his shoulder as they walked down the street, but there wasno sign of pursuit. It's a long time since supper.  <doc-sep>III     From a billion miles away, from a bourne unguessable thousands oflight-years distant, came the faint, far whisper of a voice. Nearer andnearer it came, and ever faster, till it throbbed upon Chip's eardrumswith booming savagery.     —coming to, now. Good! We'll soon find out—     Chip opened his eyes, too dazed, at first, to understand the situationin which he found himself. Gone was the familiar control-turret of the      Chickadee     , gone the bulger into which he had so hastily clambered. Helay on the parched, rocky soil of a—a something. A planetoid, perhaps.And he was surrounded by a motley crew of strangers: scum of all theplanets that circle the Sun....     Then recollection flooded back upon him, sudden and complete. Thechase ... the call of the fateful Lorelei ... the crash! New strength,born of anger, surged through him. He lifted his head.     My—my companions? he demanded weakly.     The leader of those who encircled him, a mighty hulk of a man, massiveof shoulder and thigh, black-haired, with an unshaven blue jaw,raven-bright eyes and a jutting, aquiline nose like the beak of a hawk,loosed a satisfied grunt.     Ah! Back to normal, eh, sailor? Damn near time!     Climbing to his feet sent a swift wave of giddiness through Chip—buthe managed it. He fought down the vertigo which threatened to overwhelmhim, and confronted the big man boldly.     What, he stormed, is the meaning of this?     The giant stared at him for a moment, his jaw slack. Then hisraven-bright eyes glittered; he slapped a trunklike thigh and guffawedin boisterous mirth.     Hear that? he roared to his companions. Quite a guy, ain't he?'What's the meanin' o' this?' he asks! Game little fightin' cock, hey?Then he sobered abruptly, and a grim light replaced the amusement inhis eyes. Here was not a man to be trifled with, Chip realized. Histone assumed a biting edge. The meanin' is, my bucko, he answeredmirthlessly, that you've run afoul o' your last reef. Unless you havea sane head on your shoulders, and you're willing to talk fast andstraight!     Talk?     Don't stall. We've already unloaded your bins. We found it. And a nicehaul, too. Thanks for lettin' us know it was on the way. The burly onechuckled coarsely. We'd have took it, anyway, but you helped mattersout by comin' to us.     Johnny Haldane had been right, then. Chip remembered his friend'sominous warning. —if your message was intercepted, you may haveplayed into the hands of— He said slowly, Then you      are     theLorelei's men?     The who? Never mind that, bucko, just talk. That ekalastron—where didit come from?     And it occurred to Warren suddenly that although the big man      did     holdthe whip hand, he was still not in possession of the most importantsecret of all! While the location of the ekalastron mine remained asecret, a deadlock existed.     And if I won't tell—? he countered shrewdly.     Why, then, sailor— The pirate leader's hamlike fists tightened, anda cold light glinted in his eyes—why, then I guess maybe I'll have tobeat it out o' you!  <doc-sep>  And went out like a light.     Arth was shaking my arm. Wantanother      mass     ?     The band was blaring, and fivethousand half-swacked voices wereroaring accompaniment.     In Muenchen steht ein Hofbräuhaus!      Eins, Zwei, G'sufa!      At the      G'sufa     everybody uppedwith their king-size mugs and drankeach other's health.     My head was killing me. This iswhere I came in, or something, Igroaned.     Arth said, That was last night.He looked at me over the rim of hisbeer mug.     Something, somewhere, waswrong. But I didn't care. I finishedmy      mass     and then remembered. I'vegot to get my bag. Oh, my head.Where did we spend last night?     Arth said, and his voice soundedcautious, At my hotel, don't you remember?     Not very well, I admitted. Ifeel lousy. I must have dimmed out.I've got to go to the Bahnhof andget my luggage.     Arth didn't put up an argumenton that. We said good-by and I couldfeel him watching after me as I pushedthrough the tables on the wayout.     At the Bahnhof they could do meno good. There were no hotel roomsavailable in Munich. The head wasgetting worse by the minute. Thefact that they'd somehow managedto lose my bag didn't help. I workedon that project for at least a coupleof hours. Not only wasn't the bagat the luggage checking station, butthe attendant there evidently couldn'tmake heads nor tails of the checkreceipt. He didn't speak English andmy high school German was inadequate,especially accompanied by ablockbusting hangover.     I didn't get anywhere tearing myhair and complaining from one endof the Bahnhof to the other. I drewa blank on the bag.     And the head was getting worseby the minute. I was bleeding todeath through the eyes and insteadof butterflies I had bats in my stomach.Believe me,      nobody     should drinka gallon or more of Marzenbräu. <doc-sep>The officer picked up the dollar bill and fingered it with evidentinterest. He turned it over and studied the printing. United States ofAmerica, he read aloud. What are those?     It's the name of the country I come from, Jeff said carefully.I—uh—got on the wrong train, apparently, and must have come furtherthan I thought. What's the name of this place?     This is Costa, West Goodland, in the Continental Federation. Say, youmust come from an umpty remote part of the world if you don't knowabout this country. His eyes narrowed. Where'd you learn to speakFederal, if you come from so far?     Jeff said helplessly, I can't explain, if you don't know about theUnited States. Listen, can you take me to a bank, or some place wherethey know about foreign exchange?     The policeman scowled. How'd you get into this country, anyway? Yougot immigrate clearance?     An angry muttering started among the bystanders.     The policeman made up his mind. You come with me.     At the police station, Jeff put his elbows dejectedly on the highcounter while the policeman talked to an officer in charge. Some menwhom Jeff took for reporters got up from a table and eased over tolisten.     I don't know whether to charge them with fakemake, bumsy, peekage orlunate, the policeman said as he finished.     His superior gave Jeff a long puzzled stare.     Jeff sighed. I know it sounds impossible, but a man brought me insomething he claimed was a time traveler. You speak the same language Ido—more or less—but everything else is kind of unfamiliar. I belongin the United States, a country in North America. I can't believe I'mso far in the future that the United States has been forgotten.     There ensued a long, confused, inconclusive interrogation.     The man behind the desk asked questions which seemed stupid to Jeff andgot answers which probably seemed stupid to him.     The reporters quizzed Jeff gleefully. Come out, what are youadvertising? they kept asking. Who got you up to this?     The police puzzled over his driver's license and the other cards in hiswallet. They asked repeatedly about the lack of a Work License, whichJeff took to be some sort of union card. Evidently there was gravedoubt that he had any legal right to be in the country.     In the end, Jeff and Ann were locked in separate cells for the night.Jeff groaned and pounded the bars as he thought of his wife, imprisonedand alone in a smelly jail. After hours of pacing the cell, he lay downin the cot and reached automatically for his silver pillbox. Then hehesitated.     In past weeks, his insomnia had grown worse and worse, so that latelyhe had begun taking stronger pills. After a longing glance at thebig red and yellow capsules, he put the box away. Whatever tomorrowbrought, it wouldn't find him slow and drowsy.      IV     He passed a wakeful night. In the early morning, he looked up to see alittle man with a briefcase at his cell door.     Wish joy, Mr. Elliott, the man said coolly. I am one of Mr. Bullen'sbarmen. You know, represent at law? He sent me to arrange your release,if you are ready to be reasonable.     Jeff lay there and put his hands behind his head. I doubt if I'mready. I'm comfortable here. By the way, how did you know where I was?     No problem. When we read in this morning's newspapers about a manclaiming to be a time traveler, we knew.     All right. Now start explaining. Until I understand where I am, Bullenisn't getting me out of here.     The lawyer smiled and sat down. Mr. Kersey told you yesterday—you'vegone back six years. But you'll need some mental gymnastics tounderstand. Time is a dimension, not a stream of events like a moviefilm. A film never changes. Space does—and time does. For example, ifa movie showed a burning house at Sixth and Main, would you expect tofind a house burning whenever you returned to that corner?     You mean to say that if I went back to 1865, I wouldn't find the CivilWar was over and Lincoln had been assassinated?     If you go back to the time you call 1865—which is most easilydone—you will find that the people there know nothing of a Lincoln orthat war.     Jeff looked blank. What are they doing then?     The little man spread his hands. What are the people doing now atSixth and Main? Certainly not the same things they were doing the dayof the fire. We're talking about a dimension, not an event. Don't yougrasp the difference between the two?     Nope. To me, 1865 means the end of the Civil War. How else can youspeak of a point in time except by the events that happened then?     Well, if you go to a place in three-dimensional space—say, a lakein the mountains—how do you identify that place? By looking forlandmarks. It doesn't matter that an eagle is soaring over a mountainpeak. That's only an event. The peak is the landmark. You follow me?     So far. Keep talking.  <doc-sep>   IT WAS A DULL, ROUTINE LITTLE     WORLD. IT DIDN'T EVEN HAVE A     CITY. EVERYTHING IT HAD WAS     IN THE GARDEN     BY R. A. LAFFERTY     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, March 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The protozoic recorder chirped like a bird. Not only would there belife traces on that little moon, but it would be a lively place. Sothey skipped several steps in the procedure.     The chordata discerner read      Positive     over most of the surface. Therewas spinal fluid on that orb, rivers of it. So again they omittedseveral tests and went to the cognition scanner. Would it show Thoughton the body?     Naturally they did not get results at once, nor did they expect to; itrequired a fine adjustment. But they were disappointed that they foundnothing for several hours as they hovered high over the rotation. Thenit came—clearly and definitely, but from quite a small location only.     Limited, said Steiner, as though within a pale. As though there werebut one city, if that is its form. Shall we follow the rest of thesurface to find another, or concentrate on this? It'll be twelve hoursbefore it's back in our ken if we let it go now.     Let's lock on this one and finish the scan. Then we can do the rest ofthe world to make sure we've missed nothing, said Stark.     There was one more test to run, one very tricky and difficult ofanalysis, that with the Extraordinary Perception Locator. This wasdesigned simply to locate a source of superior thought. But this mightbe so varied or so unfamiliar that often both the machine and thedesigner of it were puzzled as to how to read the results.     The E. P. Locator had been designed by Glaser. But when the Locatorhad refused to read      Positive     when turned on the inventor himself,bad blood developed between machine and man. Glaser knew that he hadextraordinary perception. He was a much honored man in his field. Hetold the machine so heatedly.     The machine replied, with such warmth that its relays chattered, thatGlaser did      not     have extraordinary perception; he had only ordinaryperception to an extraordinary degree. There is a      difference     , themachine insisted.     It was for this reason that Glaser used that model no more, but builtothers more amenable. And it was for this reason also that the ownersof Little Probe had acquired the original machine so cheaply.     And there was no denying that the Extraordinary Perception Locator (orEppel) was a contrary machine. On Earth it had read      Positive     on anumber of crack-pots, including Waxey Sax, a jazz tootler who could noteven read music. But it had also read      Positive     on ninety per cent ofthe acknowledged superior minds of the Earth. In space it had been asound guide to the unusual intelligences encountered. Yet on Suzuki-Miit had read      Positive     on a two-inch-long worm, only one of them out ofbillions. For the countless identical worms no trace of anything at allwas shown by the test.     So it was with mixed expectations that Steiner locked onto the areaand got a flick. He then narrowed to a smaller area (apparently oneindividual, though this could not be certain) and got very definiteaction. Eppel was busy. The machine had a touch of the ham in it, andassumed an air of importance when it ran these tests.     Finally it signaled the result, the most exasperating result it everproduces: the single orange light. It was the equivalent of the shrugof the shoulders in a man. They called it the You tell      me     light.     So among the intelligences there was at least one that might beextraordinary, though possibly in a crackpot way. It is good to beforewarned.  <doc-sep>While the TV voice intoned the poem, growing richer as emotion caughtit up, Celeste looked around her at the others. Frieda, with hertouch of feminine helplessness showing more than ever through herbusiness-like poise. Theodor leaning forward from his scarlet cloakthrown back, smiling the half-smile with which he seemed to face eventhe unknown. Black Edmund, masking a deep uncertainty with a strongshow of decisiveness.     In short, her family. She knew their every quirk and foible. And yetnow they seemed to her a million miles away, figures seen through thewrong end of a telescope.     Were they really a family? Strong sources of mutual strength andsecurity to each other? Or had they merely been playing family,experimenting with their notions of complex marriage like a bunch ofsilly adolescents? Butterflies taking advantage of good weather towing together in a glamorous, artificial dance—until outraged Naturedecided to wipe them out?     As the poem was ending, Celeste saw the door open and Rosalind comeslowly in. The Golden Woman's face was white as the paths she had beentreading.     Just then the TV voice quickened with shock. News! Lunar ObservatoryOne reports that, although Jupiter is just about to pass behind theSun, a good coronagraph of the planet has been obtained. Checked andrechecked, it admits of only one interpretation, which Lunar Onefeels duty-bound to release.      Jupiter's fourteen moons are no longervisible!          The chorus of remarks with which the Wolvers would otherwise havereceived this was checked by one thing: the fact that Rosalind seemednot to hear it. Whatever was on her mind prevented even that incrediblestatement from penetrating.     She walked shakily to the table and put down a briefcase, one end ofwhich was smudged with dirt.     Without looking at them, she said, Ivan left the Deep Space Bartwenty minutes ago, said he was coming straight here. On my way backI searched the path. Midway I found this half-buried in the dirt. Ihad to tug to get it out—almost as if it had been cemented into theground. Do you feel how the dirt seems to be      in     the leather, as ifit had lain for years in the grave?     By now the others were fingering the small case of microfilms they hadseen so many times in Ivan's competent hands. What Rosalind said wastrue. It had a gritty, unwholesome feel to it. Also, it felt strangelyheavy.     And see what's written on it, she added.     They turned it over. Scrawled with white pencil in big, hasty, franticletters were two words:     Going down!  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the location where the events of Butterfly 9 occur?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How does time play a role in Butterfly 9? [SEP] <s>   Butterfly 9     By DONALD KEITH     Illustrated by GAUGHAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction January 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Jeff needed a job and this man had a job to       offer—one where giant economy-size trouble       had labels like fakemake, bumsy and peekage!        I     At first, Jeff scarcely noticed the bold-looking man at the next table.Nor did Ann. Their minds were busy with Jeff's troubles.     You're still the smartest color engineer in television, Ann told Jeffas they dallied with their food. You'll bounce back. Now eat yoursupper.     This beanery is too noisy and hot, he grumbled. I can't eat. Can'ttalk. Can't think. He took a silver pillbox from his pocket andfumbled for a black one. Those were vitamin pills; the big red andyellow ones were sleeping capsules. He gulped the pill.     Ann looked disapproving in a wifely way. Lately you chew pills likepopcorn, she said. Do you really need so many?     I need something. I'm sure losing my grip.     Ann stared at him. Baby! How silly! Nothing happened, except you lostyour lease. You'll build up a better company in a new spot. We're youngyet.  <doc-sep>Most of the cousins gasped as the truth began to percolate through.     I knew from the very beginning, Conrad finished, that I didn'thave to do anything at all. I just had to wait and you would destroyyourselves.     I don't understand, Bartholomew protested, searching the faces of thecousins closest to him. What does he mean, we have never existed?We're here, aren't we? What—     Shut up! Raymond snapped. He turned on Martin. You don't seemsurprised.     The old man grinned. I'm not. I figured it all out years ago.     At first, he had wondered what he should do. Would it be better tothrow them into a futile panic by telling them or to do nothing? Hehad decided on the latter; that was the role they had assigned him—towatch and wait and keep out of things—and that was the role he wouldplay.     You knew all the time and you didn't tell us! Raymond spluttered.After we'd been so good to you, making a gentleman out of you insteadof a criminal.... That's right, he snarled, a criminal! An alcoholic,a thief, a derelict! How do you like that?     Sounds like a rich, full life, Martin said wistfully.     What an exciting existence they must have done him out of! But then, hecouldn't help thinking, he—he and Conrad together, of course—had donethem out of      any     kind of existence. It wasn't his responsibility,though; he had done nothing but let matters take whatever course wasdestined for them. If only he could be sure that it was the bettercourse, perhaps he wouldn't feel that nagging sense of guilt insidehim. Strange—where, in his hermetic life, could he possibly havedeveloped such a queer thing as a conscience?     Then we've wasted all this time, Ninian sobbed, all this energy, allthis money, for nothing!     But you were nothing to begin with, Martin told them. And then,after a pause, he added, I only wish I could be sure there had beensome purpose to this.     He didn't know whether it was approaching death that dimmed his sight,or whether the frightened crowd that pressed around him was growingshadowy.     I wish I could feel that some good had been done in letting you bewiped out of existence, he went on voicing his thoughts. But I knowthat the same thing that happened to your worlds and my world willhappen all over again. To other people, in other times, but again. It'sbound to happen. There isn't any hope for humanity.     One man couldn't really change the course of human history, he toldhimself. Two men, that was—one real, one a shadow.     Conrad came close to the old man's bed. He was almost transparent.     No, he said, there is hope. They didn't know the time transmitterworks two ways. I used it for going into the past only once—just thisonce. But I've gone into the future with it many times. And— hepressed Martin's hand—believe me, what I did—what      we     did, you andI—serves a purpose. It will change things for the better. Everythingis going to be all right.  <doc-sep>While the TV voice intoned the poem, growing richer as emotion caughtit up, Celeste looked around her at the others. Frieda, with hertouch of feminine helplessness showing more than ever through herbusiness-like poise. Theodor leaning forward from his scarlet cloakthrown back, smiling the half-smile with which he seemed to face eventhe unknown. Black Edmund, masking a deep uncertainty with a strongshow of decisiveness.     In short, her family. She knew their every quirk and foible. And yetnow they seemed to her a million miles away, figures seen through thewrong end of a telescope.     Were they really a family? Strong sources of mutual strength andsecurity to each other? Or had they merely been playing family,experimenting with their notions of complex marriage like a bunch ofsilly adolescents? Butterflies taking advantage of good weather towing together in a glamorous, artificial dance—until outraged Naturedecided to wipe them out?     As the poem was ending, Celeste saw the door open and Rosalind comeslowly in. The Golden Woman's face was white as the paths she had beentreading.     Just then the TV voice quickened with shock. News! Lunar ObservatoryOne reports that, although Jupiter is just about to pass behind theSun, a good coronagraph of the planet has been obtained. Checked andrechecked, it admits of only one interpretation, which Lunar Onefeels duty-bound to release.      Jupiter's fourteen moons are no longervisible!          The chorus of remarks with which the Wolvers would otherwise havereceived this was checked by one thing: the fact that Rosalind seemednot to hear it. Whatever was on her mind prevented even that incrediblestatement from penetrating.     She walked shakily to the table and put down a briefcase, one end ofwhich was smudged with dirt.     Without looking at them, she said, Ivan left the Deep Space Bartwenty minutes ago, said he was coming straight here. On my way backI searched the path. Midway I found this half-buried in the dirt. Ihad to tug to get it out—almost as if it had been cemented into theground. Do you feel how the dirt seems to be      in     the leather, as ifit had lain for years in the grave?     By now the others were fingering the small case of microfilms they hadseen so many times in Ivan's competent hands. What Rosalind said wastrue. It had a gritty, unwholesome feel to it. Also, it felt strangelyheavy.     And see what's written on it, she added.     They turned it over. Scrawled with white pencil in big, hasty, franticletters were two words:     Going down!  <doc-sep>She had finished. And now Cyril cleared his throat. Dear friends, wewere honored by your gracious invitation to visit this fair planet, andwe are honored now by the cordial reception you have given to us.     The crowd yoomped politely. After a slight start, Cyril went on,apparently deciding that applause was all that had been intended.     We feel quite sure that we are going to derive both pleasure andprofit from our stay here, and we promise to make our intensiveanalysis of your culture as painless as possible. We wish only to studyyour society, not to tamper with it in any way.       Ha, ha     , Skkiru said to himself.      Ha, ha, ha!       But why is it, Raoul whispered in Terran as he glanced around out ofthe corners of his eyes, that only the beggar wears mudshoes?     Shhh, Cyril hissed back. We'll find out later, when we'veestablished rapport. Don't be so impatient!     Bbulas gave a sickly smile. Skkiru could almost find it in his heartsto feel sorry for the man.     We have prepared our best hut for you, noble sirs, Bbulas said withgreat self-control, and, by happy chance, this very evening a smallbut unusually interesting ceremony will be held outside the temple. Wehope you will be able to attend. It is to be a rain dance.     Rain dance! Raoul pulled his macintosh together more tightly at thethroat. But why do you want rain? My faith, not only does it rain now,but the planet seems to be a veritable sea of mud. Not, of course, headded hurriedly as Cyril's reproachful eye caught his, that it is notattractive mud. Finest mud I have ever seen. Such texture, such color,such aroma!     Cyril nodded three times and gave an appreciative sniff.     But, Raoul went on, one can have too much of even such a good thingas mud....     The smile did not leave Bbulas' smooth face. Yes, of course, honorableTerrestrials. That is why we are holding this ceremony. It is not adance to bring on rain. It is a dance to      stop     rain.     He was pretty quick on the uptake, Skkiru had to concede. However,that was not enough. The man had no genuine organizational ability.In the time he'd had in which to plan and carry out a scheme forthe improvement of Snaddra, surely he could have done better thanthis high-school theocracy. For one thing, he could have apportionedthe various roles so that each person would be making a definitecontribution to the society, instead of creating some positions plums,like the priesthood, and others prunes, like the beggarship.     What kind of life was that for an active, ambitious young man, standingaround begging? And, moreover, from whom was Skkiru going to beg?Only the Earthmen, for the Snaddrath, no matter how much they threwthemselves into the spirit of their roles, could not be so carriedaway that they would give handouts to a young man whom they had beenaccustomed to see basking in the bosom of luxury.  <doc-sep>Bullen slapped a big fist on the arm of his chair. No fog about this!You're bought and paid for, Elliott! You'll get a fair labor contract,but you do what I say!     Why, the man thinks he owns you. Ann laughed shakily.     You'll find my barmen know their law, Bullen said. This isn't theway I like to recruit. But it was only way to get a man with yourknowledge.     Kersey said politely, You are here illegally, with no immigratepermit or citizen file. Therefore you cannot get work. But Mr. Bullenhas taken an interest in your trouble. Through his influence, you canmake a living. We even set aside an apartment in this building for youto live in. You are really very luxe, do you see?     Jeff's legs felt weak. These highbinders seemed brutally confident. Hewondered how he and Ann would find their way home through the strangestreets. But he put on a bold front.     I don't believe your line about time travel and I don't plan to workfor you, he said. My wife and I are walking out right now. Try andstop us, legally or any other way.     Kersey's smooth old face turned hard. But, unexpectedly, Bullenchuckled deep in his throat. Good pop and bang. Like to see it. Goon, walk out. You hang in trouble, call up here—Butterfly 9, ask forBullen. Whole exchange us. I'll meet you here about eleven tomorrowpre-noon.     Don't hold your breath. Let's go, Ann.     When they were on the sidewalk, Ann took a deep breath. We made it.For a minute, I thought there'd be a brawl. Why did they let us go?     No telling. Maybe they're harmless lunatics—or practical jokers. Helooked over his shoulder as they walked down the street, but there wasno sign of pursuit. It's a long time since supper.  <doc-sep>  There was a knock.     Betty bounced up with Olympicagility and had the door swingingwide before the knocking was quitecompleted.     He was old, little and had bugeyes behind pince-nez glasses. Hissuit was cut in the style of yesteryearbut when a suit costs two orthree hundred dollars you still retaincaste whatever the styling.     Simon said unenthusiastically,Good morning, Mr. Oyster. He indicatedthe client's chair. Sit down,sir.     The client fussed himself withBetty's assistance into the seat, bug-eyedSimon, said finally, You knowmy name, that's pretty good. Neversaw you before in my life. Stop fussingwith me, young lady. Your adin the phone book says you'll investigateanything.     Anything, Simon said. Onlyone exception.     Excellent. Do you believe in timetravel?     Simon said nothing. Across theroom, where she had resumed herseat, Betty cleared her throat. WhenSimon continued to say nothing sheventured, Time travel is impossible.     Why?     Why?     Yes, why?     Betty looked to her boss for assistance.None was forthcoming. Thereought to be some very quick, positive,definite answer. She said, Well,for one thing, paradox. Suppose youhad a time machine and traveled backa hundred years or so and killed yourown great-grandfather. Then howcould you ever be born?     Confound it if I know, the littlefellow growled. How?     Simon said, Let's get to the point,what you wanted to see me about.     I want to hire you to hunt me upsome time travelers, the old boysaid.     Betty was too far in now to maintainher proper role of silent secretary.Time travelers, she said, notvery intelligently.     The potential client sat more erect,obviously with intent to hold thefloor for a time. He removed thepince-nez glasses and pointed themat Betty. He said, Have you readmuch science fiction, Miss?     Some, Betty admitted.     Then you'll realize that there area dozen explanations of the paradoxesof time travel. Every writer inthe field worth his salt has explainedthem away. But to get on. It's mycontention that within a century orso man will have solved the problemsof immortality and eternal youth, andit's also my suspicion that he willeventually be able to travel in time.So convinced am I of these possibilitiesthat I am willing to gamble aportion of my fortune to investigatethe presence in our era of such timetravelers.     Simon seemed incapable of carryingthe ball this morning, so Bettysaid, But ... Mr. Oyster, if thefuture has developed time travel whydon't we ever meet such travelers?     Simon put in a word. The usualexplanation, Betty, is that they can'tafford to allow the space-time continuumtrack to be altered. If, say, atime traveler returned to a period oftwenty-five years ago and shot Hitler,then all subsequent history would bechanged. In that case, the time travelerhimself might never be born. Theyhave to tread mighty carefully.     Mr. Oyster was pleased. I didn'texpect you to be so well informedon the subject, young man.     Simon shrugged and fumbledagain with the aspirin bottle. <doc-sep>Commander Eagan said, You'd better find some new way of amusingyourself, Jones. Have you read General Order 17?     Isobar said, I seen it. But if you think—     It says, stated Eagan deliberately, '      In order that work or restperiods of the Dome's staff may not be disturbed, it is hereby orderedthat the playing or practicing of all or any musical instruments mustbe discontinued immediately. By order of the Dome Commander     ,' Thatmeans you, Jones!     But, dingbust it! keened Isobar, it don't disturb nobody for me toplay my bagpipes! I know these lunks around here don't appreciate goodmusic, so I always go in my office and lock the door after me—     But the Dome, pointed out Commander Eagan, has an air-conditioningsystem which can't be shut off. The ungodly moans ofyour—er—so-called musical instrument can be heard through the entirestructure.     He suddenly seemed to gain stature.     No, Jones, this order is final! You cannot disrupt our entireorganization for your own—er—amusement.     But— said Isobar.     No!     Isobar wriggled desperately. Life on Luna was sorry enough already.If now they took from him the last remaining solace he had, the lastamusement which lightened his moments of freedom—     Look, Commander! he pleaded, I tell you what I'll do. I won't bothernobody. I'll go Outside and play it—     Outside! Eagan stared at him incredulously. Are you mad? How aboutthe Grannies?     Isobar knew all about the Grannies. The only mobile form of lifefound by space-questing man on Earth's satellite, their name was anabbreviation of the descriptive one applied to them by the first Lunarexployers: Granitebacks. This was no exaggeration; if anything, it wasan understatement. For the Grannies, though possessed of certain lowintelligence, had quickly proven themselves a deadly, unyielding andimplacable foe.     Worse yet, they were an enemy almost indestructible! No man had everyet brought to Earth laboratories the carcass of a Grannie; sciencewas completely baffled in its endeavors to explain the composition ofGraniteback physiology—but it was known, from bitter experience, thatthe carapace or exoskeleton of the Grannies was formed of somethingharder than steel, diamond, or battleplate! This flesh could bepenetrated by no weapon known to man; neither by steel nor flame,by electronic nor ionic wave, nor by the lethal, newly discoveredatomo-needle dispenser.     All this Isobar knew about the Grannies. Yet:     They ain't been any Grannies seen around the Dome, he said, fora 'coon's age. Anyhow, if I seen any comin', I could run right backinside—     No! said Commander Eagan flatly. Absolutely,      no     ! I have no timefor such nonsense. You know the orders—obey them! And now, gentlemen,good afternoon!     He left. Sparks turned to Isobar, grinning.     Well, he said, one man's fish—hey, Jonesy? Too bad you can't playyour doodlesack any more, but frankly, I'm just as glad. Of all theawful screeching wails—     But Isobar Jones, generally mild and gentle, was now in a perfectfury. His pale eyes blazed, he stomped his foot on the floor, and fromhis lips poured a stream of such angry invective that Riley lookedstartled. Words that, to Isobar, were the utter dregs of violentprofanity.     Oh, dagnab it! fumed Isobar Jones. Oh, tarnation and dingbust!Oh—      fiddlesticks     !      II     And so, chuckled Riley, he left, bubbling like a kettle on a red-hotoven. But, boy! was he ever mad! Just about ready to bust, he was.     Some minutes had passed since Isobar had left; Riley was talking to Dr.Loesch, head of the Dome's Physics Research Division. The older mannodded commiseratingly.     It is funny, yes, he agreed, but at the same time it is notaltogether amusing. I feel sorry for him. He is a very unhappy man, ourpoor Isobar.     Yeah, I know, said Riley, but, hell, we all get a little bithomesick now and then. He ought to learn to—     Excuse me, my boy, interrupted the aged physicist, his voice gentle,it is not mere homesickness that troubles our friend. It is somethingdeeper, much more vital and serious. It is what my people call:      weltschmertz     . There is no accurate translation in English. It means'world sickness,' or better, 'world weariness'—something like that butintensified a thousandfold.     It is a deeply-rooted mental condition, sometimes a dangerous frameof mind. Under its grip, men do wild things. Hating the world on whichthey find themselves, they rebel in curious ways. Suicide ... mad actsof valor ... deeds of cunning or knavery....     You mean, demanded Sparks anxiously, Isobar ain't got all hisbuttons?     Not that exactly. He is perfectly sane. But he is in a dark morassof despair. He may try      anything     to retrieve his lost happiness, ridhis soul of its dark oppression. His world-sickness is like a cryinghunger—By the way, where is he now?     Below, I guess. In his quarters.     Ah, good! Perhaps he is sleeping. Let us hope so. In slumber he willfind peace and forgetfulness.     But Dr. Loesch would have been far less sanguine had some power thegiftie gi'en him of watching Isobar Jones at that moment.     Isobar was not asleep. Far from it. Wide awake and very much astir, hewas acting in a singularly sinister role: that of a slinking, furtiveculprit.     Returning to his private cubicle after his conversation with DomeCommander Eagan, he had stalked straightway to the cabinet wherein wasencased his precious set of bagpipes. These he had taken from theirpegs, gazed upon defiantly, and fondled with almost parental affection.     So I can't play you, huh? he muttered darkly. It disturbs the peaceo' the dingfounded, dumblasted Dome staff, does it? Well, we'll      see     about that!     And tucking the bag under his arm, he had cautiously slipped from theroom, down little-used corridors, and now he stood before the huge      impervite     gates which were the entrance to the Dome and the doorwayto Outside.     On all save those occasions when a spacecraft landed in the cradleadjacent the gateway, these portals were doubly locked and barred. Buttoday they had been unbolted that the two maintenance men might ventureout. And since it was quite possible that Brown and Roberts might haveto get inside in a hurry, their bolts remained drawn. Sole guardian ofthe entrance was a very bored Junior Patrolman.     Up to this worthy strode Isobar Jones, confident and assured, exudingan aura of propriety.     Very well, Wilkins, he said. I'll take over now. You may go to themeeting.     Wilkins looked at him bewilderedly.     Huh? Whuzzat, Mr. Jones?     Isobar's eyebrows arched.     You mean you haven't been notified?     Notified of      what     ?     Why, the general council of all Patrolmen! Weren't you told that Iwould take your place here while you reported to G.H.Q.?     I ain't, puzzled Wilkins, heard nothing about it. Maybe I ought tocall the office, maybe?     And he moved the wall-audio. But Isobar said swiftly. That—er—won'tbe necessary, Wilkins. My orders were plain enough. Now, you just runalong. I'll watch this entrance for you.     We-e-ell, said Wilkins, if you say so. Orders is orders. But keep asharp eye out, Mister Jones, in case Roberts and Brown should come backsudden-like.     I will, promised Isobar, don't worry.  <doc-sep>So Martin held his peace, because, on the whole, he liked things theway they were. Ninian really was the limit, though. All the people heknew lived in scabrous tenement apartments like his, but she seemed tothink it was disgusting.     So if you don't like it, clean it up, he suggested.     She looked at him as if he were out of his mind.     Hire a maid, then! he jeered.     And darned if that dope didn't go out and get a woman to come clean upthe place! He was so embarrassed, he didn't even dare show his face inthe streets—especially with the women buttonholing him and demandingto know what gave. They tried talking to Ninian, but she certainly knewhow to give them the cold shoulder.     One day the truant officer came to ask why Martin hadn't been comingto school. Very few of the neighborhood kids attended classes veryregularly, so this was just routine. But Ninian didn't know that andshe went into a real tizzy, babbling that Martin had been sick andwould make up the work. Martin nearly did get sick from laughing sohard inside.     But he laughed out of the other side of his mouth when she went out andhired a private tutor for him. A tutor—in that neighborhood! Martinhad to beat up every kid on the block before he could walk a stepwithout hearing Fancy Pants! yelled after him.     Ninian worried all the time. It wasn't that she cared what these peoplethought of her, for she made no secret of regarding them as littlebetter than animals, but she was shy of attracting attention. Therewere an awful lot of people in that neighborhood who felt exactly thesame way, only she didn't know that, either. She was really prettydumb, Martin thought, for all her fancy lingo.     It's so hard to think these things out without any prior practicalapplication to go by, she told him.     He nodded, knowing what she meant was that everything was coming outwrong. But he didn't try to help her; he just watched to see whatshe'd do next. Already he had begun to assume the detached role of aspectator.     When it became clear that his mother was never going to show up again,Ninian bought one of those smallish, almost identical houses thatmushroom on the fringes of a city after every war, particularly whereintensive bombing has created a number of desirable building sites.     This is a much better neighborhood for a boy to grow up in, shedeclared. Besides, it's easier to keep an eye on you here.     And keep an eye on him she did—she or a rather foppish young man whocame to stay with them occasionally. Martin was told to call him UncleRaymond.     From time to time, there were other visitors—Uncles Ives andBartholomew and Olaf, Aunts Ottillie and Grania and Lalage, and manymore—all cousins to one another, he was told, all descendants of his.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How does time play a role in Butterfly 9?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How would you describe the dynamic between Jeff and Ann in Butterfly 9? [SEP] <s>   Butterfly 9     By DONALD KEITH     Illustrated by GAUGHAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction January 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Jeff needed a job and this man had a job to       offer—one where giant economy-size trouble       had labels like fakemake, bumsy and peekage!        I     At first, Jeff scarcely noticed the bold-looking man at the next table.Nor did Ann. Their minds were busy with Jeff's troubles.     You're still the smartest color engineer in television, Ann told Jeffas they dallied with their food. You'll bounce back. Now eat yoursupper.     This beanery is too noisy and hot, he grumbled. I can't eat. Can'ttalk. Can't think. He took a silver pillbox from his pocket andfumbled for a black one. Those were vitamin pills; the big red andyellow ones were sleeping capsules. He gulped the pill.     Ann looked disapproving in a wifely way. Lately you chew pills likepopcorn, she said. Do you really need so many?     I need something. I'm sure losing my grip.     Ann stared at him. Baby! How silly! Nothing happened, except you lostyour lease. You'll build up a better company in a new spot. We're youngyet.  <doc-sep>Bullen slapped a big fist on the arm of his chair. No fog about this!You're bought and paid for, Elliott! You'll get a fair labor contract,but you do what I say!     Why, the man thinks he owns you. Ann laughed shakily.     You'll find my barmen know their law, Bullen said. This isn't theway I like to recruit. But it was only way to get a man with yourknowledge.     Kersey said politely, You are here illegally, with no immigratepermit or citizen file. Therefore you cannot get work. But Mr. Bullenhas taken an interest in your trouble. Through his influence, you canmake a living. We even set aside an apartment in this building for youto live in. You are really very luxe, do you see?     Jeff's legs felt weak. These highbinders seemed brutally confident. Hewondered how he and Ann would find their way home through the strangestreets. But he put on a bold front.     I don't believe your line about time travel and I don't plan to workfor you, he said. My wife and I are walking out right now. Try andstop us, legally or any other way.     Kersey's smooth old face turned hard. But, unexpectedly, Bullenchuckled deep in his throat. Good pop and bang. Like to see it. Goon, walk out. You hang in trouble, call up here—Butterfly 9, ask forBullen. Whole exchange us. I'll meet you here about eleven tomorrowpre-noon.     Don't hold your breath. Let's go, Ann.     When they were on the sidewalk, Ann took a deep breath. We made it.For a minute, I thought there'd be a brawl. Why did they let us go?     No telling. Maybe they're harmless lunatics—or practical jokers. Helooked over his shoulder as they walked down the street, but there wasno sign of pursuit. It's a long time since supper.  <doc-sep>Ann laid a hand on his sleeve. I haven't finished eating. Let'schat with the gent. She added in an undertone to Jeff, Must be apsycho—but sort of an inspired one.     The man said to Ann, You are kind lady, I think. Good to crazy people.I join you.     He did not wait for consent, but slid into a seat at their table withan easy grace that was almost arrogant.     You are unhappy in 1957, he went on. Discouraged. Restless. Why nottake trip to another time?     Why not? Ann said gaily. How much does it cost?     Free trial trip. Cost nothing. See whether you like. Then maybe wetalk money. He handed Jeff a card made of a stiff plastic substance.     Jeff glanced at it, then handed it to Ann with a half-smile. It read:     4-D TRAVEL BEURO     Greet Snader, Traffic Ajent     Mr. Snader's bureau is different, Jeff said to his wife. He evenspells it different.     Snader chuckled. I come from other time. We spell otherwise.     You mean you come from the future?     Just different time. I show you. You come with me?     Come where? Jeff asked, studying Snader's mocking eyes. The mandidn't seem a mere eccentric. He had a peculiar suggestion of humor andforce.     Come on little trip to different time, invited Snader. He addedpersuasively, Could be back here in hour.     It would be painless, I suppose? Jeff gave it a touch of derision.     Maybe not. That is risk you take. But look at me. I make trips everyday. I look damaged?     As a matter of fact, he did. His thick-fleshed face bore a scar andhis nose was broad and flat, as if it had been broken. But Jeffpolitely agreed that he did not look damaged.     Ann was enjoying this. Tell me more, Mr. Snader. How does your timetravel work?     Cannot explain. Same if you are asked how subway train works. Toocomplicated. He flashed his white teeth. You think time travel notpossible. Just like television not possible to your grandfather.     Ann said, Why invite us? We're not rich enough for expensive trips.     Invite many people, Snader said quickly. Not expensive. You knowMissing Persons lists, from police? Dozens people disappear. They gowith me to other time. Many stay.     Oh, sure, Jeff said. But how do you select the ones to invite?     Find ones like you, Mr. Elliott. Ones who want change, escape.  <doc-sep>Jeff submitted to Snader's pressure and stepped cautiously into thescreen. Amazingly, he felt no resistance at all, no sense of change ormotion. It was like stepping through a fog-bank into another room.     In fact, that was what they seemed to have done. They were in thechair-lined corridor. As Snader turned them around and seated them,they faced another moving picture screen. It seemed to rush through adark tunnel toward a lighted square in the far distance.     The square grew on the screen. Soon they saw it was another room likethe waiting room they had left, except that the number hanging from theceiling was 702. They seemed to glide through it. Then they were in thedark tunnel again.     Ann was clutching Jeff's arm. He patted her hand. Fun, hey? Like Alicethrough the looking-glass.     You really think we're going back in time? she whispered.     Hardly! But we're seeing a million-dollar trick. I can't even begin tofigure it out yet.     Another lighted room grew out of the tunnel on the screen, and whenthey had flickered through it, another and then another.     Mr. Snader, Ann said unsteadily, how long—how many years back areyou taking us?     Snader was humming to himself. Six years. Station 725 fine place tostop.     For a little while, Jeff let himself think it might be true. Six yearsago, your dad was alive, he mused to Ann. If this should somehow bereal, we could see him again.     We could if we went to our house. He lived with us then, remember?Would we see ourselves, six years younger? Or would—     Snader took Jeff's arm and pulled him to his feet. The screen wasmoving through a room numbered 724.     Soon now, Snader grunted happily. Then no more questions.     He took an arm of each as he had before. When the screen was filled bya room with the number 725, he propelled them forward into it.       Again there was no sense of motion. They had simply stepped through abright wall they could not feel. They found themselves in a replica ofthe room they had left at 701. On the wall, a picture of the continuousclub-car corridor rolled toward them in a silent, endless stream.     The same room, Ann said in disappointment. They just changed thenumber. We haven't been anywhere.  <doc-sep>Jeff sighed and glanced around the crowded little restaurant. He wishedhe could fly away somewhere. At that moment, he met the gaze of themustachioed man at the next table.     The fellow seemed to be watching him and Ann. Something in hisconfident gaze made Jeff uneasy. Had they met before?     Ann whispered, So you noticed him, too. Maybe he's following us. Ithink I saw him on the parking lot where we left the car.     Jeff shrugged his big shoulders. If he's following us, he's nuts.We've got no secrets and no money.     It must be my maddening beauty, said Ann.     I'll kick him cross-eyed if he starts anything, Jeff said. I'm justin the mood.     Ann giggled. Honey, what big veins you have! Forget him. Let's talkabout the engineering lab you're going to start. And let's eat.     He groaned. I lose my appetite every time I think about the buildingbeing sold. It isn't worth the twelve grand. I wouldn't buy it for thatif I could. What burns me is that, five years ago, I could have boughtit for two thousand.     If only we could go back five years. She shrugged fatalistically.But since we can't—     The character at the next table leaned over and spoke to them,grinning. You like to get away? You wish to go back?     Jeff glanced across in annoyance. The man was evidently a salesman,with extra gall.     Not now, thanks, Jeff said. Haven't time.     The man waved his thick hand at the clock, as if to abolish time.Time? That is nothing. Your little lady. She spoke of go back fiveyears. Maybe I help you.     He spoke in an odd clipped way, obviously a foreigner. His shirt wasyellow. His suit had a silky sheen. Its peculiar tailoring emphasizedthe bulges in his stubby, muscular torso.     Ann smiled back at him. You talk as if you could take us back to 1952.Is that what you really mean?     Why not? You think this silly. But I can show you.     Jeff rose to go. Mister, you better get to a doctor. Ann, it's time westarted home.  <doc-sep>Snader was fishing under his shirt for the key. He gave Ann a glancethat was almost a leer. Then he carefully unlocked the door.     In the hall, a motherly old lady bustled up, but Snader brushed pasther. Official, he said, showing her the key. No lodging.     He unlocked the front door without another word and carefully shut itbehind them as Jeff and Ann followed him out of the house.     Hey, where's my car? Jeff demanded, looking up and down the street.     The whole street looked different. Where he had parked his roadster,there was now a long black limousine.     Your car is in future, Snader said briskly. Where it belong. Getin. He opened the door of the limousine.     Jeff felt a little flame of excitement licking inside him. Somethingwas happening, he felt. Something exciting and dangerous.     Snader, he said, if you're kidnaping us, you made a mistake. Nobodyon Earth will pay ransom for us.     Snader seemed amused. You are foolish fellow. Silly talk about ransom.You in different time now.     When does this gag stop? Jeff demanded irritably. You haven't fooledus. We're still in 1957.     You are? Look around.     Jeff looked at the street again. He secretly admitted to himselfthat these were different trees and houses than he remembered. Eventhe telephone poles and street lights seemed peculiar, vaguelyforeign-looking. It must be an elaborate practical joke. Snader hadprobably ushered them into one house, then through a tunnel and outanother house.     Get in, Snader said curtly.     Jeff decided to go along with the hoax or whatever it was. He couldsee no serious risk. He helped Ann into the back seat and sat besideher. Snader slammed the door and slid into the driver's seat. Hestarted the engine with a roar and they rocketed away from the curb,narrowly missing another car.     Jeff yelled, Easy, man! Look where you're going!     Snader guffawed. Tonight, you look where you are going.     Ann clung to Jeff. Did you notice the house we came out of?     What about it?     It looked as though they were afraid people might try to break in.There were bars at the windows.     Lots of houses are built that way, honey. Let's see, where are we? Heglanced at house numbers. This is the 800 block. Remember that. Andthe street— He peered up at a sign as they whirled around a corner.The street is Green Thru-Way. I never heard of a street like that.      III     They were headed back toward what should have been the boulevard. Thecar zoomed through a cloverleaf turn and up onto a broad freeway. Jeffknew for certain there was no freeway there in 1957—nor in any earlieryear. But on the horizon, he could see the familiar dark bulk of themountains. The whole line of moonlit ridges was the same as always.     Ann, he said slowly, I think this is for real. Somehow I guess weescaped from 1957. We've been transported in time.     She squeezed his arm. If I'm dreaming, don't wake me! I was scared aminute ago. But now, oh, boy!     Likewise. But I still wonder what Snader's angle is. He leanedforward and tapped the driver on his meaty shoulder. You brought usinto the future instead of the past, didn't you?     It was hard to know whether Snader was sleepy or just bored, but heshrugged briefly to show there was no reply coming. Then he yawned.     Jeff smiled tightly. I guess we'll find out in good time. Let's sitback and enjoy the strangest ride of our lives.     As the limousine swept along through the traffic, there were plentyof big signs for turn-offs, but none gave any hint where they were.The names were unfamiliar. Even the language seemed grotesque. RiteChannel for Creepers, he read. Yaw for Torrey Rushway flared at himfrom a fork in the freeway.     This can't be the future, Ann said. This limousine is almost new,but it doesn't even have an automatic gear shift—     She broke off as the car shot down a ramp off the freeway and pulled upin front of an apartment house. Just beyond was a big shopping center,ablaze with lights and swarming with shoppers. Jeff did not recognizeit, in spite of his familiarity with the city.     Snader bounded out, pulled open the rear door and jerked his head in acommanding gesture. But Jeff did not get out. He told Snader, Let'shave some answers before we go any further.     Snader gave him a hard grin. You hear everything upstairs.     The building appeared harmless enough. Jeff looked thoughtfully at Ann.     She said, It's just an apartment house. We've come this far. Might aswell go in and see what's there.     Snader led them in, up to the sixth floor in an elevator and along acorridor with heavy carpets and soft gold lights. He knocked on a door.  <doc-sep>Jeff was slightly startled. How did this fellow know his name wasElliott?     Before he could ask, Ann popped another question. Mr. Snader, youheard us talking. You know we're in trouble because Jeff missed a goodchance five years ago. Do you claim people can really go back into thepast and correct mistakes they've made?     They can go back. What they do when arrive? Depends on them.     Don't you wish it were true? she sighed to Jeff.     You afraid to believe, said Snader, a glimmer of amusement in hisrestless eyes. Why not try? What you lose? Come on, look at station.Very near here.     Ann jumped up. It might be fun, Jeff. Let's see what he means, ifanything.     Jeff's pulse quickened. He too felt a sort of midsummer night'smadness—a yearning to forget his troubles. Okay, just for kicks. Butwe go in my car.     Snader moved ahead to the cashier's stand. Jeff watched the weasel-likegrace of his short, broad body.     This is no ordinary oddball, Jeff told Ann. He's tricky. He's gotsome gimmick.     First I just played him along, to see how loony he was, Ann said.Now I wonder who's kidding whom. She concluded thoughtfully, He'skind of handsome, in a tough way.      II     Snader's station proved to be a middle-sized, middle-cost home in agood neighborhood. Lights glowed in the windows. Jeff could hear thewhisper of traffic on a boulevard a few blocks away. Through the warmdusk, he could dimly see the mountains on the horizon. All was peaceful.     Snader unlocked the front door with a key which he drew from a finemetal chain around his neck. He swept open the front door with aflourish and beamed at them, but Ann drew back.     'Walk into my parlor, said the spider to the fly,' she murmured toJeff. This could be a gambling hell. Or a dope den.     No matter what kind of clip joint, it can't clip us much, he said.There's only four bucks in my wallet. My guess is it's a 'temple' forsome daffy religious sect.     They went in. A fat man smiled at them from a desk in the hall. Snadersaid, Meet Peter Powers. Local agent of our bureau.     The man didn't get up, but nodded comfortably and waved them toward thenext room, after a glance at Snader's key.     The key opened this room's door, too. Its spring lock snapped shutafter them.     The room was like a doctor's waiting room, with easy chairs along thewalls. Its only peculiar aspects were a sign hanging from the middleof the ceiling and two movie screens—or were they giant televisionscreens?—occupying a whole wall at either end of the room.     The sign bore the number 701 in bright yellow on black. Beneath it, anarrow pointed to the screen on the left with the word      Ante     , and tothe right with the word      Post     .       Jeff studied the big screens. On each, a picture was in motion. Oneappeared to be moving through a long corridor, lined with seats likea railroad club car. The picture seemed to rush at them from the leftwall. When he turned to the right, a similar endless chair-linedcorridor moved toward him from that direction.     Somebody worked hard on this layout, he said to Snader. What's itfor?     Time travel, said Snader. You like?     Almost as good as Disneyland. These movies represent the stream oftime, I suppose?  <doc-sep>A tall, silver-haired, important-looking man opened it and greeted themheartily.     Solid man, Greet! he exclaimed. You're a real scratcher! And is thisour sharp? He gave Jeff a friendly but appraising look.     Just what you order, Snader said proudly. His name—Jeff Elliott.Fine sharp. Best in his circuit. He brings his lifemate, too. AnnElliott.     The old man rubbed his smooth hands together. Prime! I wish joy, hesaid to Ann and Jeff. I'm Septo Kersey. Come in. Bullen's waiting.     He led them into a spacious drawing room with great windows looking outon the lights of the city. There was a leather chair in a corner, andin it sat a heavy man with a grim mouth. He made no move, but grunteda perfunctory Wish joy when Kersey introduced them. His cold eyesstudied Jeff while Kersey seated them in big chairs.     Snader did not sit down, however. No need for me now, he said, andmoved toward the door with a mocking wave at Ann.     Bullen nodded. You get the rest of your pay when Elliott proves out.     Here, wait a minute! Jeff called. But Snader was gone.     Sit still, Bullen growled to Jeff. You understand radioptics?     The blood went to Jeff's head. My business is television, if that'swhat you mean. What's this about?     Tell him, Kersey, the big man said, and stared out the window.     Kersey began, You understand, I think, that you have come back intime. About six years back.     That's a matter of opinion, but go on.     I am general manager of Continental Radioptic Combine, owned by Mr.Dumont Bullen. He nodded toward the big man. Chromatics have notyet been developed here in connection with radioptics. They are wellunderstood in your time, are they not?     What's chromatics? Color television?     Exactly. You are an expert in—ah—colored television, I think.     Jeff nodded. So what?     The old man beamed at him. You are here to work for our company. Youwill enable us to be first with chromatics in this time wave.     Jeff stood up. Don't tell me who I'll work for.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How would you describe the dynamic between Jeff and Ann in Butterfly 9?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How would you describe the connection between the Elliotts and Mr. Snader in Butterfly 9? [SEP] <s>A tall, silver-haired, important-looking man opened it and greeted themheartily.     Solid man, Greet! he exclaimed. You're a real scratcher! And is thisour sharp? He gave Jeff a friendly but appraising look.     Just what you order, Snader said proudly. His name—Jeff Elliott.Fine sharp. Best in his circuit. He brings his lifemate, too. AnnElliott.     The old man rubbed his smooth hands together. Prime! I wish joy, hesaid to Ann and Jeff. I'm Septo Kersey. Come in. Bullen's waiting.     He led them into a spacious drawing room with great windows looking outon the lights of the city. There was a leather chair in a corner, andin it sat a heavy man with a grim mouth. He made no move, but grunteda perfunctory Wish joy when Kersey introduced them. His cold eyesstudied Jeff while Kersey seated them in big chairs.     Snader did not sit down, however. No need for me now, he said, andmoved toward the door with a mocking wave at Ann.     Bullen nodded. You get the rest of your pay when Elliott proves out.     Here, wait a minute! Jeff called. But Snader was gone.     Sit still, Bullen growled to Jeff. You understand radioptics?     The blood went to Jeff's head. My business is television, if that'swhat you mean. What's this about?     Tell him, Kersey, the big man said, and stared out the window.     Kersey began, You understand, I think, that you have come back intime. About six years back.     That's a matter of opinion, but go on.     I am general manager of Continental Radioptic Combine, owned by Mr.Dumont Bullen. He nodded toward the big man. Chromatics have notyet been developed here in connection with radioptics. They are wellunderstood in your time, are they not?     What's chromatics? Color television?     Exactly. You are an expert in—ah—colored television, I think.     Jeff nodded. So what?     The old man beamed at him. You are here to work for our company. Youwill enable us to be first with chromatics in this time wave.     Jeff stood up. Don't tell me who I'll work for.  <doc-sep>Ann laid a hand on his sleeve. I haven't finished eating. Let'schat with the gent. She added in an undertone to Jeff, Must be apsycho—but sort of an inspired one.     The man said to Ann, You are kind lady, I think. Good to crazy people.I join you.     He did not wait for consent, but slid into a seat at their table withan easy grace that was almost arrogant.     You are unhappy in 1957, he went on. Discouraged. Restless. Why nottake trip to another time?     Why not? Ann said gaily. How much does it cost?     Free trial trip. Cost nothing. See whether you like. Then maybe wetalk money. He handed Jeff a card made of a stiff plastic substance.     Jeff glanced at it, then handed it to Ann with a half-smile. It read:     4-D TRAVEL BEURO     Greet Snader, Traffic Ajent     Mr. Snader's bureau is different, Jeff said to his wife. He evenspells it different.     Snader chuckled. I come from other time. We spell otherwise.     You mean you come from the future?     Just different time. I show you. You come with me?     Come where? Jeff asked, studying Snader's mocking eyes. The mandidn't seem a mere eccentric. He had a peculiar suggestion of humor andforce.     Come on little trip to different time, invited Snader. He addedpersuasively, Could be back here in hour.     It would be painless, I suppose? Jeff gave it a touch of derision.     Maybe not. That is risk you take. But look at me. I make trips everyday. I look damaged?     As a matter of fact, he did. His thick-fleshed face bore a scar andhis nose was broad and flat, as if it had been broken. But Jeffpolitely agreed that he did not look damaged.     Ann was enjoying this. Tell me more, Mr. Snader. How does your timetravel work?     Cannot explain. Same if you are asked how subway train works. Toocomplicated. He flashed his white teeth. You think time travel notpossible. Just like television not possible to your grandfather.     Ann said, Why invite us? We're not rich enough for expensive trips.     Invite many people, Snader said quickly. Not expensive. You knowMissing Persons lists, from police? Dozens people disappear. They gowith me to other time. Many stay.     Oh, sure, Jeff said. But how do you select the ones to invite?     Find ones like you, Mr. Elliott. Ones who want change, escape.  <doc-sep>Jeff was slightly startled. How did this fellow know his name wasElliott?     Before he could ask, Ann popped another question. Mr. Snader, youheard us talking. You know we're in trouble because Jeff missed a goodchance five years ago. Do you claim people can really go back into thepast and correct mistakes they've made?     They can go back. What they do when arrive? Depends on them.     Don't you wish it were true? she sighed to Jeff.     You afraid to believe, said Snader, a glimmer of amusement in hisrestless eyes. Why not try? What you lose? Come on, look at station.Very near here.     Ann jumped up. It might be fun, Jeff. Let's see what he means, ifanything.     Jeff's pulse quickened. He too felt a sort of midsummer night'smadness—a yearning to forget his troubles. Okay, just for kicks. Butwe go in my car.     Snader moved ahead to the cashier's stand. Jeff watched the weasel-likegrace of his short, broad body.     This is no ordinary oddball, Jeff told Ann. He's tricky. He's gotsome gimmick.     First I just played him along, to see how loony he was, Ann said.Now I wonder who's kidding whom. She concluded thoughtfully, He'skind of handsome, in a tough way.      II     Snader's station proved to be a middle-sized, middle-cost home in agood neighborhood. Lights glowed in the windows. Jeff could hear thewhisper of traffic on a boulevard a few blocks away. Through the warmdusk, he could dimly see the mountains on the horizon. All was peaceful.     Snader unlocked the front door with a key which he drew from a finemetal chain around his neck. He swept open the front door with aflourish and beamed at them, but Ann drew back.     'Walk into my parlor, said the spider to the fly,' she murmured toJeff. This could be a gambling hell. Or a dope den.     No matter what kind of clip joint, it can't clip us much, he said.There's only four bucks in my wallet. My guess is it's a 'temple' forsome daffy religious sect.     They went in. A fat man smiled at them from a desk in the hall. Snadersaid, Meet Peter Powers. Local agent of our bureau.     The man didn't get up, but nodded comfortably and waved them toward thenext room, after a glance at Snader's key.     The key opened this room's door, too. Its spring lock snapped shutafter them.     The room was like a doctor's waiting room, with easy chairs along thewalls. Its only peculiar aspects were a sign hanging from the middleof the ceiling and two movie screens—or were they giant televisionscreens?—occupying a whole wall at either end of the room.     The sign bore the number 701 in bright yellow on black. Beneath it, anarrow pointed to the screen on the left with the word      Ante     , and tothe right with the word      Post     .       Jeff studied the big screens. On each, a picture was in motion. Oneappeared to be moving through a long corridor, lined with seats likea railroad club car. The picture seemed to rush at them from the leftwall. When he turned to the right, a similar endless chair-linedcorridor moved toward him from that direction.     Somebody worked hard on this layout, he said to Snader. What's itfor?     Time travel, said Snader. You like?     Almost as good as Disneyland. These movies represent the stream oftime, I suppose?  <doc-sep>Bullen slapped a big fist on the arm of his chair. No fog about this!You're bought and paid for, Elliott! You'll get a fair labor contract,but you do what I say!     Why, the man thinks he owns you. Ann laughed shakily.     You'll find my barmen know their law, Bullen said. This isn't theway I like to recruit. But it was only way to get a man with yourknowledge.     Kersey said politely, You are here illegally, with no immigratepermit or citizen file. Therefore you cannot get work. But Mr. Bullenhas taken an interest in your trouble. Through his influence, you canmake a living. We even set aside an apartment in this building for youto live in. You are really very luxe, do you see?     Jeff's legs felt weak. These highbinders seemed brutally confident. Hewondered how he and Ann would find their way home through the strangestreets. But he put on a bold front.     I don't believe your line about time travel and I don't plan to workfor you, he said. My wife and I are walking out right now. Try andstop us, legally or any other way.     Kersey's smooth old face turned hard. But, unexpectedly, Bullenchuckled deep in his throat. Good pop and bang. Like to see it. Goon, walk out. You hang in trouble, call up here—Butterfly 9, ask forBullen. Whole exchange us. I'll meet you here about eleven tomorrowpre-noon.     Don't hold your breath. Let's go, Ann.     When they were on the sidewalk, Ann took a deep breath. We made it.For a minute, I thought there'd be a brawl. Why did they let us go?     No telling. Maybe they're harmless lunatics—or practical jokers. Helooked over his shoulder as they walked down the street, but there wasno sign of pursuit. It's a long time since supper.  <doc-sep>Jeff submitted to Snader's pressure and stepped cautiously into thescreen. Amazingly, he felt no resistance at all, no sense of change ormotion. It was like stepping through a fog-bank into another room.     In fact, that was what they seemed to have done. They were in thechair-lined corridor. As Snader turned them around and seated them,they faced another moving picture screen. It seemed to rush through adark tunnel toward a lighted square in the far distance.     The square grew on the screen. Soon they saw it was another room likethe waiting room they had left, except that the number hanging from theceiling was 702. They seemed to glide through it. Then they were in thedark tunnel again.     Ann was clutching Jeff's arm. He patted her hand. Fun, hey? Like Alicethrough the looking-glass.     You really think we're going back in time? she whispered.     Hardly! But we're seeing a million-dollar trick. I can't even begin tofigure it out yet.     Another lighted room grew out of the tunnel on the screen, and whenthey had flickered through it, another and then another.     Mr. Snader, Ann said unsteadily, how long—how many years back areyou taking us?     Snader was humming to himself. Six years. Station 725 fine place tostop.     For a little while, Jeff let himself think it might be true. Six yearsago, your dad was alive, he mused to Ann. If this should somehow bereal, we could see him again.     We could if we went to our house. He lived with us then, remember?Would we see ourselves, six years younger? Or would—     Snader took Jeff's arm and pulled him to his feet. The screen wasmoving through a room numbered 724.     Soon now, Snader grunted happily. Then no more questions.     He took an arm of each as he had before. When the screen was filled bya room with the number 725, he propelled them forward into it.       Again there was no sense of motion. They had simply stepped through abright wall they could not feel. They found themselves in a replica ofthe room they had left at 701. On the wall, a picture of the continuousclub-car corridor rolled toward them in a silent, endless stream.     The same room, Ann said in disappointment. They just changed thenumber. We haven't been anywhere.  <doc-sep>   Butterfly 9     By DONALD KEITH     Illustrated by GAUGHAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction January 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Jeff needed a job and this man had a job to       offer—one where giant economy-size trouble       had labels like fakemake, bumsy and peekage!        I     At first, Jeff scarcely noticed the bold-looking man at the next table.Nor did Ann. Their minds were busy with Jeff's troubles.     You're still the smartest color engineer in television, Ann told Jeffas they dallied with their food. You'll bounce back. Now eat yoursupper.     This beanery is too noisy and hot, he grumbled. I can't eat. Can'ttalk. Can't think. He took a silver pillbox from his pocket andfumbled for a black one. Those were vitamin pills; the big red andyellow ones were sleeping capsules. He gulped the pill.     Ann looked disapproving in a wifely way. Lately you chew pills likepopcorn, she said. Do you really need so many?     I need something. I'm sure losing my grip.     Ann stared at him. Baby! How silly! Nothing happened, except you lostyour lease. You'll build up a better company in a new spot. We're youngyet.  <doc-sep>Instead of answering, Snader pointed to the screen. The picture showeda group of people chatting in a fast-moving corridor. As it hurtledtoward them, Snader flipped his hand in a genial salute. Two people inthe picture waved back.     Ann gasped. It was just as if they saw us.     They did, Snader said. No movie. Time travelers. In fourthdimension. To you, they look like flat picture. To them, we look flat.     What's he supposed to be? Jeff asked as the onrushing picture showedthem briefly a figure bound hand and foot, huddled in one of thechairs. He stared at them piteously for an instant before the picturesurged past.     Snader showed his teeth. That was convict from my time. We havecriminals, like in your time. But we do not kill. We make them work.Where he going? To end of line. To earliest year this time groovereach. About 600 A.D., your calendar. Authorities pick up whenhe get there. Put him to work.     What kind of work? Jeff asked.     Building the groove further back.     Sounds like interesting work.     Snader chortled and slapped him on the back. Maybe you see it someday, but forget that now. You come with me. Little trip.     Jeff was perspiring. This was odder than he expected. Whatever thefakery, it was clever. His curiosity as a technician made him want toknow about it. He asked Snader, Where do you propose to go? And how?     Snader said, Watch me. Then look at other wall.     He moved gracefully to the screen on the left wall, stepped into it anddisappeared. It was as if he had slid into opaque water.     Jeff and Ann blinked in mystification. Then they remembered hisinstruction to watch the other screen. They turned. After a moment, inthe far distance down the long moving corridor, they could see a stockyfigure. The motion of the picture brought him nearer. In a few seconds,he was recognizable as Snader—and as the picture brought him forward,he stepped down out of it and was with them again.     Simple, Snader said. I rode to next station. Then crossed over. Tookother carrier back here.     Brother, that's the best trick I've seen in years, Jeff said. Howdid you do it? Can I do it, too?     I show you. Grinning like a wildcat, Snader linked his arms with Annand Jeff, and walked them toward the screen. Now, he said. Step in.  <doc-sep>Snader was fishing under his shirt for the key. He gave Ann a glancethat was almost a leer. Then he carefully unlocked the door.     In the hall, a motherly old lady bustled up, but Snader brushed pasther. Official, he said, showing her the key. No lodging.     He unlocked the front door without another word and carefully shut itbehind them as Jeff and Ann followed him out of the house.     Hey, where's my car? Jeff demanded, looking up and down the street.     The whole street looked different. Where he had parked his roadster,there was now a long black limousine.     Your car is in future, Snader said briskly. Where it belong. Getin. He opened the door of the limousine.     Jeff felt a little flame of excitement licking inside him. Somethingwas happening, he felt. Something exciting and dangerous.     Snader, he said, if you're kidnaping us, you made a mistake. Nobodyon Earth will pay ransom for us.     Snader seemed amused. You are foolish fellow. Silly talk about ransom.You in different time now.     When does this gag stop? Jeff demanded irritably. You haven't fooledus. We're still in 1957.     You are? Look around.     Jeff looked at the street again. He secretly admitted to himselfthat these were different trees and houses than he remembered. Eventhe telephone poles and street lights seemed peculiar, vaguelyforeign-looking. It must be an elaborate practical joke. Snader hadprobably ushered them into one house, then through a tunnel and outanother house.     Get in, Snader said curtly.     Jeff decided to go along with the hoax or whatever it was. He couldsee no serious risk. He helped Ann into the back seat and sat besideher. Snader slammed the door and slid into the driver's seat. Hestarted the engine with a roar and they rocketed away from the curb,narrowly missing another car.     Jeff yelled, Easy, man! Look where you're going!     Snader guffawed. Tonight, you look where you are going.     Ann clung to Jeff. Did you notice the house we came out of?     What about it?     It looked as though they were afraid people might try to break in.There were bars at the windows.     Lots of houses are built that way, honey. Let's see, where are we? Heglanced at house numbers. This is the 800 block. Remember that. Andthe street— He peered up at a sign as they whirled around a corner.The street is Green Thru-Way. I never heard of a street like that.      III     They were headed back toward what should have been the boulevard. Thecar zoomed through a cloverleaf turn and up onto a broad freeway. Jeffknew for certain there was no freeway there in 1957—nor in any earlieryear. But on the horizon, he could see the familiar dark bulk of themountains. The whole line of moonlit ridges was the same as always.     Ann, he said slowly, I think this is for real. Somehow I guess weescaped from 1957. We've been transported in time.     She squeezed his arm. If I'm dreaming, don't wake me! I was scared aminute ago. But now, oh, boy!     Likewise. But I still wonder what Snader's angle is. He leanedforward and tapped the driver on his meaty shoulder. You brought usinto the future instead of the past, didn't you?     It was hard to know whether Snader was sleepy or just bored, but heshrugged briefly to show there was no reply coming. Then he yawned.     Jeff smiled tightly. I guess we'll find out in good time. Let's sitback and enjoy the strangest ride of our lives.     As the limousine swept along through the traffic, there were plentyof big signs for turn-offs, but none gave any hint where they were.The names were unfamiliar. Even the language seemed grotesque. RiteChannel for Creepers, he read. Yaw for Torrey Rushway flared at himfrom a fork in the freeway.     This can't be the future, Ann said. This limousine is almost new,but it doesn't even have an automatic gear shift—     She broke off as the car shot down a ramp off the freeway and pulled upin front of an apartment house. Just beyond was a big shopping center,ablaze with lights and swarming with shoppers. Jeff did not recognizeit, in spite of his familiarity with the city.     Snader bounded out, pulled open the rear door and jerked his head in acommanding gesture. But Jeff did not get out. He told Snader, Let'shave some answers before we go any further.     Snader gave him a hard grin. You hear everything upstairs.     The building appeared harmless enough. Jeff looked thoughtfully at Ann.     She said, It's just an apartment house. We've come this far. Might aswell go in and see what's there.     Snader led them in, up to the sixth floor in an elevator and along acorridor with heavy carpets and soft gold lights. He knocked on a door.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How would you describe the connection between the Elliotts and Mr. Snader in Butterfly 9?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in TROUBLE ON TYCHO? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>   TROUBLE ON TYCHO     By NELSON S. BOND     Isobar and his squeeze-pipes were the bane of     the Moon Station's existence. But there came     the day when his comrades found that the worth     of a man lies sometimes in his nuisance value.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories March 1943.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The audiophone buzzed thrice—one long, followed by two shorts—andIsobar Jones pressed the stud activating its glowing scanner-disc.     Hummm? he said absent-mindedly.     The selenoplate glowed faintly, and the image of the Dome Commanderappeared.     Report ready, Jones?     Almost, acknowledged Isobar gloomily. It prob'ly ain't right,though. How anybody can be expected to get      anything     right on thisdagnabbed hunk o' green cheese—     Send it up, interrupted Colonel Eagan, as soon as you can. Sparks ismaking Terra contact now. That is all.     That ain't all! declared Isobar indignantly. How about my bag—?     It      was all     , so far as the D.C. was concerned. Isobar was talkingto himself. The plate dulled. Isobar said, Nuts! and returned tohis duties. He jotted neat ditto marks under the word Clear which,six months ago, he had placed beneath the column headed:      Cond. ofObs.     He noted the proper figures under the headings      Sun Spots     :      MaxFreq.     —      Min. Freq.     ; then he sketched careful curves in blue and redink upon the Mercator projection of Earth which was his daily worksheet.     This done, he drew a clean sheet of paper out of his desk drawer,frowned thoughtfully at the tabulated results of his observations, andbegan writing.           Weather forecast for Terra     , he wrote, his pen making scratchingsounds.     The audiophone rasped again. Isobar jabbed the stud and answeredwithout looking.     O.Q., he said wearily. O.Q. I told you it would be ready in a coupleo' minutes. Keep your pants on!     I—er—I beg your pardon, Isobar? queried a mild voice.     Isobar started. His sallow cheeks achieved a sickly salmon hue. Heblinked nervously.     Oh, jumpin' jimminy! he gulped.       You     , Miss Sally! Golly—'scuse me!I didn't realize—     The Dome Commander's niece giggled.     That's all right, Isobar. I just called to ask you about the weatherin Oceania Sector 4B next week. I've got a swimming date at Waikiki,but I won't make the shuttle unless the weather's going to be nice.     It is, promised Isobar. It'll be swell all weekend, Miss Sally.Fine sunshiny weather. You can go.     That's wonderful. Thanks so much, Isobar.     Don't mention it, ma'am, said Isobar, and returned to his work.     South America. Africa. Asia. Pan-Europa. Swiftly he outlined themeteorological prospects for each sector. He enjoyed this part of hisjob. As he wrote forecasts for each area, in his mind's eye he sawhimself enjoying such pastimes as each geographical division's terrainrendered possible.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>The girl did not answer then and a hushed expectancy fell over theship. Somewhere aft a small motor was running. Wind whistled past theopen lock.     I've caused plenty of trouble haven't I? she asked aloud, finally.This was certainly a fool stunt, and I'm guilty of a lot of foolstunts! I just didn't realize until now the      why     of that law.     Don't talk so much, the nurse admonished. A lot of people have foundout the      why     of that law the hard way, just as you are doing, andlived to remember it. Until hospitals are built on this forlorn world,humans like you who haven't been properly conditioned will have to stayright at home.     How about these men that live and work here?     They never get here until they've been through the mill first.Adenoids, appendix', all the extra parts they can get along without.     Well, Judith said. I've certainly learned my lesson!     Gray didn't answer, but from out of the darkness surrounding her came asound remarkably resembling a snort.     Gray? Judith asked fearfully.     Yes?     Hasn't the pilot been gone an awfully long time?     Rat himself provided the answer by alighting at the lip with a jar thatshook the ship. He was breathing heavily and lugging something in hisarms. The burden groaned.     Gladney! Nurse Gray exclaimed.     I got. Rat confirmed. Yes, Gladney. Damn heavy, Gladney.     But how? she demanded. What of Roberds and Peterson?     Trick, he sniggered. I burn down my shack. Boss run out. I run in.Very simple. He packed Gladney into the remaining hammock and snappedbuckles.     And Peterson? she prompted.     Oh yes. Peterson. So sorry about Peterson. Had to fan him.           Fan     him? I don't understand.     Fan. With chair. Everything all right. I apologized. Rat finished upand was walking back to the lock. They heard a slight rustling of wingsas he padded away.     He was back instantly, duplicating his feat of a short time ago.Cursing shouts were slung on the night air, and the deadly spang ofbullets bounced on the hull! Some entered the lock. The Centauriansnapped it shut. Chunks of lead continued to pound the ship. Rat leapedfor the pilot's chair, heavily, a wing drooping.     You've been hurt! Gray cried. A small panel light outlined hisfeatures. She tried to struggle up.     Lie still! We go. Boss get wise. With lightning fingers he flickedseveral switches on the panel, turned to her. Hold belly. Zoom!     Gray folded her hands across her stomach and closed her eyes.     Rat unlocked the master level and shoved!  <doc-sep>Being a beggar, Skkiru discovered, did give him certain small,momentary advantages over those who had been alloted higher ranks.For one thing, it was quite in character for him to tread curiouslyupon the strangers' heels all the way to the temple—a ramshackleaffair, but then it had been run up in only three days—where theofficial reception was to be held. The principal difficulty was that,because of his equipment, he had a little trouble keeping himself fromovershooting the strangers. And though Bbulas might frown menacingly athim—and not only for his forwardness—that was in character on bothsides, too.     Nonetheless, Skkiru could not reconcile himself to his beggarhood, nomatter how much he tried to comfort himself by thinking at least hewasn't a pariah like the unfortunate metal-workers who had to standsegregated from the rest by a chain of their own devising—a poeticthought, that was, but well in keeping with his beggarhood. Beggarswere often poets, he believed, and poets almost always beggars. Sincemetal-working was the chief industry of Snaddra, this had provided theplanet automatically with a large lowest caste. Bbulas had taken theeasy way out.     Skkiru swallowed the last of the chocolate and regarded the highpriest with a simple-minded mendicant's grin. However, there werevolcanic passions within him that surged up from his toes when, as thewind and rain whipped through his scanty coverings, he remembered thesnug underskirts Bbulas was wearing beneath his warm gown. They weremetal, but they were solid. All the garments visible or potentiallyvisible were of woven metal, because, although there was cloth on theplanet, it was not politic for the Earthmen to discover how heavily theSnaddrath depended upon imports.     As the Earthmen reached the temple, Larhgan now appeared to join Bbulasat the head of the long flight of stairs that led to it. AlthoughSkkiru had seen her in her priestly apparel before, it had not madethe emotional impression upon him then that it did now, when, standingthere, clad in beauty, dignity and warm clothes, she bade the newcomerswelcome in several thousand words not too well chosen for her byBbulas—who fancied himself a speech-writer as well as a speech-maker,for there was no end to the man's conceit.     The difference between her magnificent garments and his own miserablerags had their full impact upon Skkiru at this moment. He saw the gulfthat had been dug between them and, for the first time in his shortlife, he felt the tormenting pangs of caste distinction. She looked solovely and so remote.     ... and so you are most welcome to Snaddra, men of Earth, she wassaying in her melodious voice. Our resources may be small but ourhearts are large, and what little we have, we offer with humility andwith love. We hope that you will enjoy as long and as happy a stay hereas you did on Nemeth....     Cyril looked at Raoul, who, however, seemed too absorbed incontemplating Larhgan's apparently universal charms to pay muchattention to the expression on his companion's face.     ... and that you will carry our affection back to all the peoples ofthe Galaxy.  <doc-sep>   HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS     By JIM HARMON     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Every lonely man tries to make friends.     Manet just didn't know when to stop!      William Manet was alone.     In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It wouldgive him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlateloneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take himto start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to beginteaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminablelectures to a bored and captive audience of one.     He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whetherit was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and asdirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal andthink more like a god than any man for generations.     But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearingbore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.     Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was alreadytalking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he hadcut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up andwinked at it whenever he passed that way.     Lately she was winking back at him.     Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh fromhis arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.     No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manetcould only be this lonely on Mars.     Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.     All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middleof the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat,flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in theblack sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moonsand one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The wholegimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one wasneeded here—no human being, at least.     The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn'ttake much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefullyspecified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycombMars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.     They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated peoplefor the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going toisolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manetand his fellows.     The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fareto Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuterservice for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodationsfor couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren'tproviding fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits betweenthe various Overseers. They weren't very providential.     But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offeredwonderful opportunities.     It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship makinga tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning asbright as envy.  <doc-sep>   My Lady Greensleeves     By FREDERIK POHL     Illustrated by GAUGHAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction February 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        This guard smelled trouble and it could be       counted on to come—for a nose for trouble       was one of the many talents bred here!        I     His name was Liam O'Leary and there was something stinking in hisnostrils. It was the smell of trouble. He hadn't found what the troublewas yet, but he would. That was his business. He was a captain ofguards in Estates-General Correctional Institution—better known toits inmates as the Jug—and if he hadn't been able to detect the scentof trouble brewing a cell-block away, he would never have survived toreach his captaincy.     And her name, he saw, was Sue-Ann Bradley, Detainee No. WFA-656R.     He frowned at the rap sheet, trying to figure out what got a girl likeher into a place like this. And, what was more important, why shecouldn't adjust herself to it, now that she was in.     He demanded: Why wouldn't you mop out your cell?     The girl lifted her head angrily and took a step forward. The blockguard, Sodaro, growled warningly: Watch it, auntie!     O'Leary shook his head. Let her talk, Sodaro. It said in the      CivilService Guide to Prison Administration     : Detainees will be permittedto speak in their own behalf in disciplinary proceedings. And O'Learywas a man who lived by the book.     She burst out: I never got a chance! That old witch Mathias never toldme I was supposed to mop up. She banged on the door and said, 'Slushup, sister!' And then, ten minutes later, she called the guards andtold them I refused to mop.     The block guard guffawed. Wipe talk—that's what she was telling youto do. Cap'n, you know what's funny about this? This Bradley is—     Shut up, Sodaro.  <doc-sep>She was pink and clean and her platinum hair was pulled straight back,drawing her cheek-bones tighter, straightening her wide, appealingmouth, drawing her lean, athletic, feminine body erect. She was wearinga powder-blue dress that covered all of her breasts and hips and theupper half of her legs.     The most wonderful thing about her was her perfume. Then I realized itwasn't perfume, only the scent of soap. Finally, I knew it wasn't that.It was just healthy, fresh-scrubbed skin.     I went to her at the bus stop, forcing my legs not to stagger. Nobodywould help a drunk. I don't know why, but nobody will help you if theythink you are blotto.     Ma'am, could you help a man who's not had work? I kept my eyes down.I couldn't look a human in the eye and ask for help. Just a dime for acup of coffee. I knew where I could get it for three cents, maybe twoand a half.     I felt her looking at me. She spoke in an educated voice, one she used,perhaps, as a teacher or supervising telephone operator. Do you wantit for coffee, or to apply, or a glass or hypo of something else?     I cringed and whined. She would expect it of me. I suddenly realizedthat anybody as clean as she was had to be a tourist here. I hatetourists.     Just coffee, ma'am. She was younger than I was, so I didn't have tocall her that. A little more for food, if you could spare it.     I hadn't eaten in a day and a half, but I didn't care much.     I'll buy you a dinner, she said carefully, provided I can go withyou and see for myself that you actually eat it.     I felt my face flushing red. You wouldn't want to be seen with a bumlike me, ma'am.     I'll be seen with you if you really want to eat.     It was certainly unfair and probably immoral. But I had no choicewhatever.     Okay, I said, tasting bitterness over the craving.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in TROUBLE ON TYCHO?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the importance of bagpipes in TROUBLE ON TYCHO? [SEP] <s>   TROUBLE ON TYCHO     By NELSON S. BOND     Isobar and his squeeze-pipes were the bane of     the Moon Station's existence. But there came     the day when his comrades found that the worth     of a man lies sometimes in his nuisance value.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories March 1943.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The audiophone buzzed thrice—one long, followed by two shorts—andIsobar Jones pressed the stud activating its glowing scanner-disc.     Hummm? he said absent-mindedly.     The selenoplate glowed faintly, and the image of the Dome Commanderappeared.     Report ready, Jones?     Almost, acknowledged Isobar gloomily. It prob'ly ain't right,though. How anybody can be expected to get      anything     right on thisdagnabbed hunk o' green cheese—     Send it up, interrupted Colonel Eagan, as soon as you can. Sparks ismaking Terra contact now. That is all.     That ain't all! declared Isobar indignantly. How about my bag—?     It      was all     , so far as the D.C. was concerned. Isobar was talkingto himself. The plate dulled. Isobar said, Nuts! and returned tohis duties. He jotted neat ditto marks under the word Clear which,six months ago, he had placed beneath the column headed:      Cond. ofObs.     He noted the proper figures under the headings      Sun Spots     :      MaxFreq.     —      Min. Freq.     ; then he sketched careful curves in blue and redink upon the Mercator projection of Earth which was his daily worksheet.     This done, he drew a clean sheet of paper out of his desk drawer,frowned thoughtfully at the tabulated results of his observations, andbegan writing.           Weather forecast for Terra     , he wrote, his pen making scratchingsounds.     The audiophone rasped again. Isobar jabbed the stud and answeredwithout looking.     O.Q., he said wearily. O.Q. I told you it would be ready in a coupleo' minutes. Keep your pants on!     I—er—I beg your pardon, Isobar? queried a mild voice.     Isobar started. His sallow cheeks achieved a sickly salmon hue. Heblinked nervously.     Oh, jumpin' jimminy! he gulped.       You     , Miss Sally! Golly—'scuse me!I didn't realize—     The Dome Commander's niece giggled.     That's all right, Isobar. I just called to ask you about the weatherin Oceania Sector 4B next week. I've got a swimming date at Waikiki,but I won't make the shuttle unless the weather's going to be nice.     It is, promised Isobar. It'll be swell all weekend, Miss Sally.Fine sunshiny weather. You can go.     That's wonderful. Thanks so much, Isobar.     Don't mention it, ma'am, said Isobar, and returned to his work.     South America. Africa. Asia. Pan-Europa. Swiftly he outlined themeteorological prospects for each sector. He enjoyed this part of hisjob. As he wrote forecasts for each area, in his mind's eye he sawhimself enjoying such pastimes as each geographical division's terrainrendered possible.  <doc-sep>   INNOCENT AT LARGE     By POUL AND KAREN ANDERSON     Illustrated by WOOD     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction July 1958.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        A hayseed Martian among big-planet slickers ... of course       he would get into trouble. But that was nothing compared       to the trouble he would be in if he did not get into trouble!        The visiphone chimed when Peri had just gotten into her dinner gown.She peeled it off again and slipped on a casual bathrobe: a wisp oftranslucence which had set the president of Antarctic Enterprise—orhad it been the chairman of the board?—back several thousand dollars.Then she pulled a lock of lion-colored hair down over one eye, checkedwith a mirror, rumpled it a tiny bit more and wrapped the robe looselyon top and tight around the hips.     After all, some of the men who knew her private number were important.     She undulated to the phone and pressed its Accept. Hello-o, there,she said automatically. So sorry to keep you waiting. I was justtaking a bath and—Oh. It's you.     Gus Doran's prawnlike eyes popped at her. Holy Success, he whisperedin awe. You sure the wires can carry that much voltage?       Well, hurry up with whatever it is, snapped Peri. I got a datetonight.     I'll say you do! With a Martian!  <doc-sep>   My Lady Greensleeves     By FREDERIK POHL     Illustrated by GAUGHAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction February 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        This guard smelled trouble and it could be       counted on to come—for a nose for trouble       was one of the many talents bred here!        I     His name was Liam O'Leary and there was something stinking in hisnostrils. It was the smell of trouble. He hadn't found what the troublewas yet, but he would. That was his business. He was a captain ofguards in Estates-General Correctional Institution—better known toits inmates as the Jug—and if he hadn't been able to detect the scentof trouble brewing a cell-block away, he would never have survived toreach his captaincy.     And her name, he saw, was Sue-Ann Bradley, Detainee No. WFA-656R.     He frowned at the rap sheet, trying to figure out what got a girl likeher into a place like this. And, what was more important, why shecouldn't adjust herself to it, now that she was in.     He demanded: Why wouldn't you mop out your cell?     The girl lifted her head angrily and took a step forward. The blockguard, Sodaro, growled warningly: Watch it, auntie!     O'Leary shook his head. Let her talk, Sodaro. It said in the      CivilService Guide to Prison Administration     : Detainees will be permittedto speak in their own behalf in disciplinary proceedings. And O'Learywas a man who lived by the book.     She burst out: I never got a chance! That old witch Mathias never toldme I was supposed to mop up. She banged on the door and said, 'Slushup, sister!' And then, ten minutes later, she called the guards andtold them I refused to mop.     The block guard guffawed. Wipe talk—that's what she was telling youto do. Cap'n, you know what's funny about this? This Bradley is—     Shut up, Sodaro.  <doc-sep>If home is where the heart is, Horatio Jones—known better as Isobarto his associates at the Experimental Dome on Luna—was a long, longway from home. His lean, gangling frame was immured, and had been forsix tedious Earth months, beneath the      impervite     hemisphere of LunarIII—that frontier outpost which served as a rocket refueling station,teleradio transmission point and meteorological base.     Six solid months! Six sad, dreary months! thought Isobar, Locked upin an airtight Dome like—like a goldfish in a glass bowl! Sunlight?Oh, sure! But filtered through ultraviolet wave-traps so it could notburn, it left the skin pale and lustreless and clammy as the belly of atoad. Fresh air? Pooh! Nothing but that everlasting sickening, scented,reoxygenated stuff gushing from atmo-conditioning units.     Excitement? Adventure? The romance he had been led to expect when hesigned on for frontier service? Bah! Only a weary, monotonous, routineexistence.     A pain! declared Isobar Jones. That's what it is; a pain in thestummick. Not even allowed to—Yeah?     It was Sparks, audioing from the Dome's transmission turret. He said,Hyah, Jonesy! How comes with the report?     Done, said Isobar. I was just gettin' the sheets together for you.     O.Q. But just bring      it     . Nothing else.     Isobar bridled.     I don't know what you're talkin' about.     Oh, no? Well, I'm talking about that squawk-filled doodlesack ofyours, sonny boy. Don't bring that bag-full of noise up here with you.     Isobar said defiantly, It ain't a doodlesack. It's a bagpipe. And Iguess I can play it if I want to—     Not, said Sparks emphatically, in      my     cubby! I've got sensitiveeardrums. Well, stir your stumps! I've got to get the report rollingquick today. Big doings up here.     Yeah? What?     Well, it's Roberts and Brown—     What about 'em?     They've gone Outside to make foundation repairs.     Lucky stiffs! commented Isobar ruefully.     Lucky, no. Stiffs, maybe—if they should meet any Grannies. Well,scoot along. I'm on the ether in four point sixteen minutes.     Be right up, promised Isobar, and, sheets in hand, he ambled from hiscloistered cell toward the central section of the Dome.     He didn't leave Sparks' turret after the sheets were delivered.Instead, he hung around, fidgeting so obtrusively that Riley finallyturned to him in sheer exasperation.     Sweet snakes of Saturn, Jonesy, what's the trouble? Bugs in yourbritches?     Isobar said, H-huh? Oh, you mean—Oh, thanks, no! I just thought mebbeyou wouldn't mind if I—well—er—     I get it! Sparks grinned. Want to play peekaboo while the contact'sopen, eh? Well, O.Q. Watch the birdie!     He twisted dials, adjusted verniers, fingered a host ofincomprehensible keys. Current hummed and howled. Then a plate beforehim cleared, and the voice of the Earth operator came in, enunciatingwith painstaking clarity:     Earth answering Luna. Earth answering Luna's call. Can you hear me,Luna? Can you hear—?     I can not only hear you, snorted Riley, I can see you and smell you,as well. Stop hamming it, stupid! You're lousing up the earth!     The now-visible face of the Earth radioman drew into a grimace ofdispleasure.     Oh, it's      you     ? Funny man, eh? Funny man Riley?     Sure, said Riley agreeably. I'm a scream. Four-alarm Riley,the cosmic comedian—didn't you know? Flick on your dictacoder,oyster-puss; here's the weather report. He read it. '      Weatherforecast for Terra, week of May 15-21     —'     Ask him, whispered Isobar eagerly. Sparks, don't forget to ask him!  <doc-sep>Commander Eagan said, You'd better find some new way of amusingyourself, Jones. Have you read General Order 17?     Isobar said, I seen it. But if you think—     It says, stated Eagan deliberately, '      In order that work or restperiods of the Dome's staff may not be disturbed, it is hereby orderedthat the playing or practicing of all or any musical instruments mustbe discontinued immediately. By order of the Dome Commander     ,' Thatmeans you, Jones!     But, dingbust it! keened Isobar, it don't disturb nobody for me toplay my bagpipes! I know these lunks around here don't appreciate goodmusic, so I always go in my office and lock the door after me—     But the Dome, pointed out Commander Eagan, has an air-conditioningsystem which can't be shut off. The ungodly moans ofyour—er—so-called musical instrument can be heard through the entirestructure.     He suddenly seemed to gain stature.     No, Jones, this order is final! You cannot disrupt our entireorganization for your own—er—amusement.     But— said Isobar.     No!     Isobar wriggled desperately. Life on Luna was sorry enough already.If now they took from him the last remaining solace he had, the lastamusement which lightened his moments of freedom—     Look, Commander! he pleaded, I tell you what I'll do. I won't bothernobody. I'll go Outside and play it—     Outside! Eagan stared at him incredulously. Are you mad? How aboutthe Grannies?     Isobar knew all about the Grannies. The only mobile form of lifefound by space-questing man on Earth's satellite, their name was anabbreviation of the descriptive one applied to them by the first Lunarexployers: Granitebacks. This was no exaggeration; if anything, it wasan understatement. For the Grannies, though possessed of certain lowintelligence, had quickly proven themselves a deadly, unyielding andimplacable foe.     Worse yet, they were an enemy almost indestructible! No man had everyet brought to Earth laboratories the carcass of a Grannie; sciencewas completely baffled in its endeavors to explain the composition ofGraniteback physiology—but it was known, from bitter experience, thatthe carapace or exoskeleton of the Grannies was formed of somethingharder than steel, diamond, or battleplate! This flesh could bepenetrated by no weapon known to man; neither by steel nor flame,by electronic nor ionic wave, nor by the lethal, newly discoveredatomo-needle dispenser.     All this Isobar knew about the Grannies. Yet:     They ain't been any Grannies seen around the Dome, he said, fora 'coon's age. Anyhow, if I seen any comin', I could run right backinside—     No! said Commander Eagan flatly. Absolutely,      no     ! I have no timefor such nonsense. You know the orders—obey them! And now, gentlemen,good afternoon!     He left. Sparks turned to Isobar, grinning.     Well, he said, one man's fish—hey, Jonesy? Too bad you can't playyour doodlesack any more, but frankly, I'm just as glad. Of all theawful screeching wails—     But Isobar Jones, generally mild and gentle, was now in a perfectfury. His pale eyes blazed, he stomped his foot on the floor, and fromhis lips poured a stream of such angry invective that Riley lookedstartled. Words that, to Isobar, were the utter dregs of violentprofanity.     Oh, dagnab it! fumed Isobar Jones. Oh, tarnation and dingbust!Oh—      fiddlesticks     !      II     And so, chuckled Riley, he left, bubbling like a kettle on a red-hotoven. But, boy! was he ever mad! Just about ready to bust, he was.     Some minutes had passed since Isobar had left; Riley was talking to Dr.Loesch, head of the Dome's Physics Research Division. The older mannodded commiseratingly.     It is funny, yes, he agreed, but at the same time it is notaltogether amusing. I feel sorry for him. He is a very unhappy man, ourpoor Isobar.     Yeah, I know, said Riley, but, hell, we all get a little bithomesick now and then. He ought to learn to—     Excuse me, my boy, interrupted the aged physicist, his voice gentle,it is not mere homesickness that troubles our friend. It is somethingdeeper, much more vital and serious. It is what my people call:      weltschmertz     . There is no accurate translation in English. It means'world sickness,' or better, 'world weariness'—something like that butintensified a thousandfold.     It is a deeply-rooted mental condition, sometimes a dangerous frameof mind. Under its grip, men do wild things. Hating the world on whichthey find themselves, they rebel in curious ways. Suicide ... mad actsof valor ... deeds of cunning or knavery....     You mean, demanded Sparks anxiously, Isobar ain't got all hisbuttons?     Not that exactly. He is perfectly sane. But he is in a dark morassof despair. He may try      anything     to retrieve his lost happiness, ridhis soul of its dark oppression. His world-sickness is like a cryinghunger—By the way, where is he now?     Below, I guess. In his quarters.     Ah, good! Perhaps he is sleeping. Let us hope so. In slumber he willfind peace and forgetfulness.     But Dr. Loesch would have been far less sanguine had some power thegiftie gi'en him of watching Isobar Jones at that moment.     Isobar was not asleep. Far from it. Wide awake and very much astir, hewas acting in a singularly sinister role: that of a slinking, furtiveculprit.     Returning to his private cubicle after his conversation with DomeCommander Eagan, he had stalked straightway to the cabinet wherein wasencased his precious set of bagpipes. These he had taken from theirpegs, gazed upon defiantly, and fondled with almost parental affection.     So I can't play you, huh? he muttered darkly. It disturbs the peaceo' the dingfounded, dumblasted Dome staff, does it? Well, we'll      see     about that!     And tucking the bag under his arm, he had cautiously slipped from theroom, down little-used corridors, and now he stood before the huge      impervite     gates which were the entrance to the Dome and the doorwayto Outside.     On all save those occasions when a spacecraft landed in the cradleadjacent the gateway, these portals were doubly locked and barred. Buttoday they had been unbolted that the two maintenance men might ventureout. And since it was quite possible that Brown and Roberts might haveto get inside in a hurry, their bolts remained drawn. Sole guardian ofthe entrance was a very bored Junior Patrolman.     Up to this worthy strode Isobar Jones, confident and assured, exudingan aura of propriety.     Very well, Wilkins, he said. I'll take over now. You may go to themeeting.     Wilkins looked at him bewilderedly.     Huh? Whuzzat, Mr. Jones?     Isobar's eyebrows arched.     You mean you haven't been notified?     Notified of      what     ?     Why, the general council of all Patrolmen! Weren't you told that Iwould take your place here while you reported to G.H.Q.?     I ain't, puzzled Wilkins, heard nothing about it. Maybe I ought tocall the office, maybe?     And he moved the wall-audio. But Isobar said swiftly. That—er—won'tbe necessary, Wilkins. My orders were plain enough. Now, you just runalong. I'll watch this entrance for you.     We-e-ell, said Wilkins, if you say so. Orders is orders. But keep asharp eye out, Mister Jones, in case Roberts and Brown should come backsudden-like.     I will, promised Isobar, don't worry.  <doc-sep>II     The stunning injustice of that accusation came close to costing ChipWarren his life. For a split second he stood motionless in the doorway,gaping lips forming denial. Words which were never to be uttered, forsuddenly a raw-boned miner wrenched a Moeller from its holster, leveledand fired.     The hot tongue of death licked hungrily at the young spaceman's cheek,scorched air crackled in his eardrums. Now was no time to squanderin vain argument. Chip ducked, spun, and hurled himself through thedoorway. There still remained one hope. That he might catch the realmurderer, and in that way clear himself....     But the door led to a small, deserted vestibule, and it to an alleywaybehind Xu'ul's Solarest. Viewing that maze of byways and passages, Chipknew his hope was futile. There remained but one thing to do. Get outof here. But quick!     It was no hard task. The labyrinth swallowed him as it had engulfed thescarred killer; in a few minutes even the footsteps of his pursuerscould no longer be heard. And Chip worked his cautious way back to thespaceport, and to the bin wherein was cradled the      Chickadee     .     Syd Palmer looked up in surprise as Chip let himself in theelectro-lock. The chubby engineer gasped, Salvation, look what the catdrug in! His high-flying Nibs! What's the matter, Chip? Night-life toomuch for you?     Never mind that now! panted Chip. Is this tin can ready to roll?Warm the hypos. We're lifting gravs—     Palmer said anxiously, Now, wait a minute! The men haven't quitefinished plating the hull, Chip!     Can't help that! We've got important business. In a very fewminutes—      Ahh!     There he goes now! Chip had gone to the      perilens     themoment he entered the ship; now he saw in its reflector that which hehad expected. The gushing orange spume of a spaceship roaring from itscradle. Hurry, Syd!     There were a lot of things Syd Palmer wanted to ask. He wanted to know      who     went      where     ; he was bursting with curiosity about the importantbusiness which had brought his pal back from town in such a rush; hiskeen eye also had detected a needle-gun burn on Chip's coat-sleeve. Buthe was too good a companion to waste time now on such trivia.     O.Q., he snapped. It's your pigeon!     And he disappeared. They heard his voice calling to the workmen, thescuff of equipment being disengaged from the      Chickadee's     hull, thethin, high whine of warming hypatomics. Salvation looked at Warrenquizzically.     It smells, he ventured gently, like trouble.     It is trouble, Chip told him. Plenty trouble!     In that case— said the old man mildly—I guess I'd better get therotor stripped for action. He stepped to the gunnery turret, droppedthe fore-irons and stripped their weapon for action. 'Be ye men ofpeace,' he intoned, 'but gird firmly thy loins for righteous battle!'Thus saith the Lord God which is Jehovah. Selah!     Then came Syd's cry from the depths of the hyporoom.     All set, Chip! Lift gravs!     Warren's finger found a stud. And with a gusty roar the      Chickadee     rocketed into space on a pillar of flame.  <doc-sep>   Venus Is a Man's World     BY WILLIAM TENN     Illustrated by GENE FAWCETTE     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction July 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Actually, there wouldn't be too much difference if women took     over the Earth altogether. But not for some men and most boys!      I've always said that even if Sis is seven years older than me—and agirl besides—she don't always know what's best. Put me on a spaceshipjam-packed with three hundred females just aching to get themselveshusbands in the one place they're still to be had—the planetVenus—and you know I'll be in trouble.     Bad trouble. With the law, which is the worst a boy can get into.     Twenty minutes after we lifted from the Sahara Spaceport, I wriggledout of my acceleration hammock and started for the door of our cabin.     Now you be careful, Ferdinand, Sis called after me as she opened abook called      Family Problems of the Frontier Woman     . Remember you'rea nice boy. Don't make me ashamed of you.     I tore down the corridor. Most of the cabins had purple lights on infront of the doors, showing that the girls were still inside theirhammocks. That meant only the ship's crew was up and about. Ship'screws are men; women are too busy with important things like governmentto run ships. I felt free all over—and happy. Now was my chance toreally see the      Eleanor Roosevelt     !  <doc-sep>Sauer and Flock were what are called prison wolves. They werelaborers—wipes, for short—or, at any rate, they had been once.They had spent so much time in prisons that it was sometimes hard evenfor them to remember what they really were, outside. Sauer was a big,grinning redhead with eyes like a water moccasin. Flock was a lithefive-footer with the build of a water moccasin—and the sad, stupideyes of a calf.     Sauer stopped yelling for a moment. Hey, Flock!     What do you want, Sauer? called Flock from his own cell.     We got a lady with us! Maybe we ought to cut out this yelling soas not to disturb the lady! He screeched with howling, maniacallaughter. Anyway, if we don't cut this out, they'll get us in trouble,Flock!     Oh, you think so? shrieked Flock. Jeez, I wish you hadn't said that,Sauer. You got me scared! I'm so scared, I'm gonna have to yell!     The howling started all over again.     The inside guard finished putting the new prisoners away and turned offthe tangler field once more. He licked his lips. Say, you want to takea turn in here for a while?     Uh-uh. The outside guard shook his head.     You're yellow, the inside guard said moodily. Ah, I don't know why Idon't quit this lousy job. Hey, you! Pipe down or I'll come in and beatyour head off!     Ee-ee-ee! screamed Sauer in a shrill falsetto. I'm scared! Then hegrinned at the guard, all but his water-moccasin eyes. Don't you knowyou can't hurt a wipe by hitting him on the head, Boss?     Shut      up     ! yelled the inside guard.     Sue-Ann Bradley's weeping now was genuine. She simply could not helpit. The crazy yowling of the hard-timers, Sauer and Flock, was gettingunder her skin. They weren't even—even      human     , she told herselfmiserably, trying to weep silently so as not to give the guards thesatisfaction of hearing her—they were animals!     Resentment and anger, she could understand. She told herself doggedlythat resentment and anger were natural and right. They were perfectlynormal expressions of the freedom-loving citizen's rebellion againstthe vile and stifling system of Categoried Classes. It was      good     thatSauer and Flock still had enough spirit to struggle against the vicioussystem—     But did they have to scream so?     The senseless yelling was driving her crazy. She abandoned herself toweeping and she didn't even care who heard her any more. Senseless!     It never occurred to Sue-Ann Bradley that it might not be senseless,because noise hides noise. But then she hadn't been a prisoner verylong.      III     I smell trouble, said O'Leary to the warden.     Trouble? Trouble? Warden Schluckebier clutched his throat and hislittle round eyes looked terrified—as perhaps they should have. WardenGodfrey Schluckebier was the almighty Caesar of ten thousand inmates inthe Jug, but privately he was a fussy old man trying to hold onto thelast decent job he would have in his life.     Trouble?      What     trouble?     O'Leary shrugged. Different things. You know Lafon, from Block A? Thisafternoon, he was playing ball with the laundry orderlies in the yard.     The warden, faintly relieved, faintly annoyed, scolded: O'Leary, whatdid you want to worry me for? There's nothing wrong with playing ballin the yard. That's what recreation periods are for.     You don't see what I mean, Warden. Lafon was a professional on theoutside—an architect. Those laundry cons were laborers. Pros and wipesdon't mix; it isn't natural. And there are other things.     O'Leary hesitated, frowning. How could you explain to the warden thatit didn't      smell     right?     For instance—Well, there's Aunt Mathias in the women's block. She'sa pretty good old girl—that's why she's the block orderly. She's alifer, she's got no place to go, she gets along with the other women.But today she put a woman named Bradley on report. Why? Because shetold Bradley to mop up in wipe talk and Bradley didn't understand. NowMathias wouldn't—     The warden raised his hand. Please, O'Leary, don't bother me aboutthat kind of stuff. He sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. He pouredhimself a cup of steaming black coffee from a brewpot, reached in adesk drawer for something, hesitated, glanced at O'Leary, then droppeda pale blue tablet into the cup. He drank it down eagerly, ignoring thescalding heat.     He leaned back, looking suddenly happier and much more assured.     O'Leary, you're a guard captain, right? And I'm your warden. You haveyour job, keeping the inmates in line, and I have mine. Now your job isjust as important as my job, he said piously.       Everybody's     job isjust as important as everybody else's, right? But we have to stick toour own jobs. We don't want to try to      pass     .     O'Leary snapped erect, abruptly angry. Pass! What the devil way wasthat for the warden to talk to him?     Excuse the expression, O'Leary, the warden said anxiously. I mean,after all, 'Specialization is the goal of civilization,' right? He wasa great man for platitudes, was Warden Schluckebier.       You     know youdon't want to worry about      my     end of running the prison. And      I     don'twant to worry about      yours     . You see? And he folded his hands andsmiled like a civil-service Buddha.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the importance of bagpipes in TROUBLE ON TYCHO?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What can you tell me about the Grannies, also known as Granitebacks, in TROUBLE ON TYCHO? [SEP] <s>Commander Eagan said, You'd better find some new way of amusingyourself, Jones. Have you read General Order 17?     Isobar said, I seen it. But if you think—     It says, stated Eagan deliberately, '      In order that work or restperiods of the Dome's staff may not be disturbed, it is hereby orderedthat the playing or practicing of all or any musical instruments mustbe discontinued immediately. By order of the Dome Commander     ,' Thatmeans you, Jones!     But, dingbust it! keened Isobar, it don't disturb nobody for me toplay my bagpipes! I know these lunks around here don't appreciate goodmusic, so I always go in my office and lock the door after me—     But the Dome, pointed out Commander Eagan, has an air-conditioningsystem which can't be shut off. The ungodly moans ofyour—er—so-called musical instrument can be heard through the entirestructure.     He suddenly seemed to gain stature.     No, Jones, this order is final! You cannot disrupt our entireorganization for your own—er—amusement.     But— said Isobar.     No!     Isobar wriggled desperately. Life on Luna was sorry enough already.If now they took from him the last remaining solace he had, the lastamusement which lightened his moments of freedom—     Look, Commander! he pleaded, I tell you what I'll do. I won't bothernobody. I'll go Outside and play it—     Outside! Eagan stared at him incredulously. Are you mad? How aboutthe Grannies?     Isobar knew all about the Grannies. The only mobile form of lifefound by space-questing man on Earth's satellite, their name was anabbreviation of the descriptive one applied to them by the first Lunarexployers: Granitebacks. This was no exaggeration; if anything, it wasan understatement. For the Grannies, though possessed of certain lowintelligence, had quickly proven themselves a deadly, unyielding andimplacable foe.     Worse yet, they were an enemy almost indestructible! No man had everyet brought to Earth laboratories the carcass of a Grannie; sciencewas completely baffled in its endeavors to explain the composition ofGraniteback physiology—but it was known, from bitter experience, thatthe carapace or exoskeleton of the Grannies was formed of somethingharder than steel, diamond, or battleplate! This flesh could bepenetrated by no weapon known to man; neither by steel nor flame,by electronic nor ionic wave, nor by the lethal, newly discoveredatomo-needle dispenser.     All this Isobar knew about the Grannies. Yet:     They ain't been any Grannies seen around the Dome, he said, fora 'coon's age. Anyhow, if I seen any comin', I could run right backinside—     No! said Commander Eagan flatly. Absolutely,      no     ! I have no timefor such nonsense. You know the orders—obey them! And now, gentlemen,good afternoon!     He left. Sparks turned to Isobar, grinning.     Well, he said, one man's fish—hey, Jonesy? Too bad you can't playyour doodlesack any more, but frankly, I'm just as glad. Of all theawful screeching wails—     But Isobar Jones, generally mild and gentle, was now in a perfectfury. His pale eyes blazed, he stomped his foot on the floor, and fromhis lips poured a stream of such angry invective that Riley lookedstartled. Words that, to Isobar, were the utter dregs of violentprofanity.     Oh, dagnab it! fumed Isobar Jones. Oh, tarnation and dingbust!Oh—      fiddlesticks     !      II     And so, chuckled Riley, he left, bubbling like a kettle on a red-hotoven. But, boy! was he ever mad! Just about ready to bust, he was.     Some minutes had passed since Isobar had left; Riley was talking to Dr.Loesch, head of the Dome's Physics Research Division. The older mannodded commiseratingly.     It is funny, yes, he agreed, but at the same time it is notaltogether amusing. I feel sorry for him. He is a very unhappy man, ourpoor Isobar.     Yeah, I know, said Riley, but, hell, we all get a little bithomesick now and then. He ought to learn to—     Excuse me, my boy, interrupted the aged physicist, his voice gentle,it is not mere homesickness that troubles our friend. It is somethingdeeper, much more vital and serious. It is what my people call:      weltschmertz     . There is no accurate translation in English. It means'world sickness,' or better, 'world weariness'—something like that butintensified a thousandfold.     It is a deeply-rooted mental condition, sometimes a dangerous frameof mind. Under its grip, men do wild things. Hating the world on whichthey find themselves, they rebel in curious ways. Suicide ... mad actsof valor ... deeds of cunning or knavery....     You mean, demanded Sparks anxiously, Isobar ain't got all hisbuttons?     Not that exactly. He is perfectly sane. But he is in a dark morassof despair. He may try      anything     to retrieve his lost happiness, ridhis soul of its dark oppression. His world-sickness is like a cryinghunger—By the way, where is he now?     Below, I guess. In his quarters.     Ah, good! Perhaps he is sleeping. Let us hope so. In slumber he willfind peace and forgetfulness.     But Dr. Loesch would have been far less sanguine had some power thegiftie gi'en him of watching Isobar Jones at that moment.     Isobar was not asleep. Far from it. Wide awake and very much astir, hewas acting in a singularly sinister role: that of a slinking, furtiveculprit.     Returning to his private cubicle after his conversation with DomeCommander Eagan, he had stalked straightway to the cabinet wherein wasencased his precious set of bagpipes. These he had taken from theirpegs, gazed upon defiantly, and fondled with almost parental affection.     So I can't play you, huh? he muttered darkly. It disturbs the peaceo' the dingfounded, dumblasted Dome staff, does it? Well, we'll      see     about that!     And tucking the bag under his arm, he had cautiously slipped from theroom, down little-used corridors, and now he stood before the huge      impervite     gates which were the entrance to the Dome and the doorwayto Outside.     On all save those occasions when a spacecraft landed in the cradleadjacent the gateway, these portals were doubly locked and barred. Buttoday they had been unbolted that the two maintenance men might ventureout. And since it was quite possible that Brown and Roberts might haveto get inside in a hurry, their bolts remained drawn. Sole guardian ofthe entrance was a very bored Junior Patrolman.     Up to this worthy strode Isobar Jones, confident and assured, exudingan aura of propriety.     Very well, Wilkins, he said. I'll take over now. You may go to themeeting.     Wilkins looked at him bewilderedly.     Huh? Whuzzat, Mr. Jones?     Isobar's eyebrows arched.     You mean you haven't been notified?     Notified of      what     ?     Why, the general council of all Patrolmen! Weren't you told that Iwould take your place here while you reported to G.H.Q.?     I ain't, puzzled Wilkins, heard nothing about it. Maybe I ought tocall the office, maybe?     And he moved the wall-audio. But Isobar said swiftly. That—er—won'tbe necessary, Wilkins. My orders were plain enough. Now, you just runalong. I'll watch this entrance for you.     We-e-ell, said Wilkins, if you say so. Orders is orders. But keep asharp eye out, Mister Jones, in case Roberts and Brown should come backsudden-like.     I will, promised Isobar, don't worry.  <doc-sep>When Annabella C. Flowers, that renowned writer of science fiction,visiphoned me at Crater City, Mars, to meet her here, I had thought shewas crazy. But Miss Flowers, known to her friends as Grannie Annie,had always been mildly crazy. If you haven't read her books, you'vemissed something. She's the author of      Lady of the Green Flames     ,      Lady of the Runaway Planet     ,      Lady of the Crimson Space-Beast     , andother works of science fiction. Blood-and-thunder as these books are,however, they have one redeeming feature—authenticity of background.Grannie Annie was the original research digger-upper, and when shelaid the setting of a yarn on a star of the sixth magnitude, only atransportation-velocity of less than light could prevent her fromvisiting her stage in person.     Therefore when she asked me to meet her at the landing field of      Interstellar Voice     on Jupiter's Eighth Moon, I knew she had anothernovel in the state of embryo.     What I didn't expect was Ezra Karn. He was an old prospector Granniehad met, and he had become so attached to the authoress he now followedher wherever she went. As for Xartal, he was a Martian and was slatedto do the illustrations for Grannie's new book.     Five minutes after my ship had blasted down, the four of us met in theoffices of      Interstellar Voice     . And then I was shaking hands withAntlers Park, the manager of I. V. himself.     Glad to meet you, he said cordially. I've just been trying topersuade Miss Flowers not to attempt a trip into the Baldric.     What's the Baldric? I had asked.     Antlers Park flicked the ash from his cheroot and shrugged.     Will you believe me, sir, he said, when I tell you I've been outhere on this forsaken moon five years and don't rightly know myself?     I scowled at that; it didn't make sense.     However, as you perhaps know, the only reason for colonial activitieshere at all is because of the presence of an ore known as Acoustix.It's no use to the people of Earth but of untold value on Mars. I'mnot up on the scientific reasons, but it seems that life on the redplanet has developed with a supersonic method of vocal communication.The Martian speaks as the Earthman does, but he amplifies his thoughts'transmission by way of wave lengths as high as three million vibrationsper second. The trouble is that by the time the average Martian reachesmiddle age, his ability to produce those vibrations steadily decreases.Then it was found that this ore, Acoustix, revitalized their soundingapparatus, and the rush was on.     What do you mean?     Park leaned back. The rush to find more of the ore, he explained.But up until now this moon is the only place where it can be found.     There are two companies here, he continued,       Interstellar Voice     and      Larynx Incorporated     . Chap by the name of Jimmy Baker runs that.However, the point is, between the properties of these two companiesstretches a band or belt which has become known as the Baldric.     There are two principal forms of life in the Baldric; flagpole treesand a species of ornithoid resembling cockatoos. So far no one hascrossed the Baldric without trouble.     What sort of trouble? Grannie Annie had demanded. And when AntlersPark stuttered evasively, the old lady snorted, Fiddlesticks, I neversaw trouble yet that couldn't be explained. We leave in an hour.  <doc-sep>For a moment the old lady sat there in silence; then she leaned back,closed her eyes, and I knew there was a story coming.     My last book,      Death In The Atom     , hit the stands last January,she began. When it was finished I had planned to take a six months'vacation, but those fool publishers of mine insisted I do a sequel.Well, I'd used Mars and Pluto and Ganymede as settings for novels, sofor this one I decided on Venus. I went to Venus City, and I spent sixweeks in-country. I got some swell background material, and I met EzraKarn....     Who? I interrupted.     An old prospector who lives out in the deep marsh on the outskirts ofVarsoom country. To make a long story short, I got him talking abouthis adventures, and he told me plenty.     The old woman paused. Did you ever hear of the Green Flames? sheasked abruptly.     I shook my head. Some new kind of ...     It's not a new kind of anything. The Green Flame is a radio-activerock once found on Mercury. The      Alpha     rays of this rock are similarto radium in that they consist of streams of material particlesprojected at high speed. But the character of the      Gamma     rays hasnever been completely analyzed. Like those set up by radium, they areelectromagnetic pulsations, but they are also a strange combination of      Beta     or cathode rays with negatively charged electrons.     When any form of life is exposed to these      Gamma     rays from the GreenFlame rock, they produce in the creature's brain a certain lassitudeand lack of energy. As the period of exposure increases, this conditiondevelops into a sense of impotence and a desire for leadership orguidance. Occasionally, as with the weak-willed, there is a spirit ofintolerance. The Green Flames might be said to be an inorganic opiate,a thousand times more subtle and more powerful than any known drug.     I was sitting up now, hanging on to the woman's every word.     Now in 2710, as you'd know if you studied your history, the threeplanets of Earth, Venus, and Mars were under governmental bondage. Thecruel dictatorship of Vennox I was short-lived, but it lasted longenough to endanger all civilized life.     The archives tell us that one of the first acts of the overthrowinggovernment was to cast out all Green Flames, two of which Vennox hadordered must be kept in each household. The effect on the people wasimmediate. Representative government, individual enterprise, freedomfollowed.     Grannie Annie lit a cigarette and flipped the match to the floor.     To go back to my first trip to Venus. As I said, I met Ezra Karn, anold prospector there in the marsh. Karn told me that on one of histravels into the Varsoom district he had come upon the wreckage ofan old space ship. The hold of that space ship was packed with GreenFlames!     If Grannie expected me to show surprise at that, she was disappointed.I said, So what?     So everything, Billy-boy. Do you realize what such a thing would meanif it were true? Green Flames were supposedly destroyed on all planetsafter the Vennox regime crashed. If a quantity of the rock were inexistence, and it fell into the wrong hands, there'd be trouble.     Of course, I regarded Karn's story as a wild dream, but it madecorking good story material. I wrote it into a novel, and a week afterit was completed, the manuscript was stolen from my study back onEarth.     I see, I said as she lapsed into silence. And now you've come to theconclusion that the details of your story were true and that someone isattempting to put your plot into action.     Grannie nodded. Yes, she said. That's exactly what I think.     I got my pipe out of my pocket, tamped Martian tobacco into the bowland laughed heartily. The same old Flowers, I said. Tell me, who'syour thief ... Doctor Universe?     She regarded me evenly. What makes you say that?     I shrugged.     The way the theater crowd acted. It all ties in.     The old woman shook her head. No, this is a lot bigger than a simplequiz program. The theater crowd was but a cross-section of what ishappening all over the System. There have been riots on Earth and Mars,police officials murdered on Pluto and a demand that government byrepresentation be abolished on Jupiter. The time is ripe for a militarydictator to step in.     And you can lay it all to the Green Flames. It seems incredible that asingle shipload of the ore could effect such a wide ranged area, but inmy opinion someone has found a means of making that quantity a thousandtimes more potent and is transmiting it      en masse     .     If it had been anyone but Grannie Annie there before me, I wouldhave called her a fool. And then all at once I got an odd feeling ofapproaching danger.     Let's get out of here, I said, getting up.       Zinnng-whack!       All right!     On the mirror behind the bar a small circle with radiating cracksappeared. On the booth wall a scant inch above Grannie's head thefresco seemed to melt away suddenly.     A heat ray!     Grannie Annie leaped to her feet, grasped my arm and raced for thedoor. Outside a driverless hydrocar stood with idling motors. The oldwoman threw herself into the control seat, yanked me in after her andthrew over the starting stud.     An instant later we were plunging through the dark night.  <doc-sep>I leaped into the driver's seat and gave the kite its head. And now thecountry began to undergo a subtle change. The trees seemed to groupthemselves in a long flanking corridor in a northwesterly direction, asif to hide some secret that lay beyond. Twice I attempted to penetratethat wall, only to find my way blocked by those curious growths.     Then a corridor opened before me; a mile forward and the desert beganagain. But it was a new desert this time: the sand packed hard asgranite, the way ahead utterly devoid of vegetation. In the distanceblack bulging hills extended to right and left, with a narrow chasm ordoorway between.     I headed for that entrance, and when I reached it, I shut off powerwith an exclamation of astonishment.     There was a huge chair-shaped rock there, and seated upon it wasGrannie Annie. She had a tablet in her hands, and she was writing.     Grannie! I yelled. What're you doing here? Where's Mr. Baker?     She rose to her feet and clambered down the rock.     Getting back Jimmy's mine laborers, she said, a twinkle in her eyes.I see you've got Antlers Park. I'm glad of that. It saves me a lot oftrouble. She took off her spectacles and wiped them on her sleeve.Don't look so fuddled, Billy-boy. Come along, and I'll show you.     She led the way through the narrow passage into the valley. A deepgorge, it was, with the black sheer cliffs on either side pressingclose. Ten feet forward, I stopped short, staring in amazement.     Advancing toward me like a column of infantry came a long line ofLarynx miners. They walked slowly, looking straight ahead, moving downthe center of the gorge toward the entrance.     But there was more! A kite car was drawn up to the side. The windscreenhad been removed, and mounted on the hood was a large bullet-likecontrivance that looked not unlike a search lamp. A blinding shaft ofbluish radiance spewed from its open end. Playing it back and forthupon the marching men were Jimmy Baker and Xartal, the Martian.     Ultra violet, Grannie Annie explained. The opposite end of thevibratory scale and the only thing that will combat the infra-red raysthat cause red spot fever. Those men won't stop walking until they'vereached Shaft Four.     Grannie Annie told her story during the long ride back to Shaft Four.We drove slowly, keeping the line of marching Larynx miners alwaysahead of us.     Jimmy Baker had struck a new big lode of Acoustix, a lode which ifworked successfully would see      Larynx Incorporated     become a far morepowerful exporting concern than      Interstellar Voice     . Antlers Parkdidn't want that.     It was he or his agents who placed those lens buttons in the Larynxbarracks.      For he knew that just as Jupiter's great spot wasresponsible for a climate and atmosphere suitable for an Earthman onthis Eighth Moon, so also was that spot a deadly power in itself,capable when its rays were concentrated of causing a fatal sickness.       Then suddenly becoming fearful of Grannie's prying, Antlers Park stroveto head her off before she reached Shaft Four.     He did head her off and managed to lure her and Baker and Xartal intothe Shaft barracks where they would be exposed to the rays from thelens button. But Grannie only pretended to contract the plague.     Park then attempted to outwit Ezra Karn and me by returning in JimmyBaker's kite car with a cockatoo image of Grannie.  <doc-sep>Brown stared at this evidence of the Grannies' power withterror-fascinated eyes. His voice was none too firm.     Lord! Piledrivers! A couple more like that—     Isobar nodded. He knew what falling into the clutch of the Granniesmeant. He had once seen the grisly aftermath of a Graniteback feast.Even now their adversaries had drawn back for a second attack. A suddenidea struck him. A straw of hope at which he grasped feverishly.     You telecast a message to the Dome? Help should be on the way by now.If we can just hold out—     But Roberts shook his head.     We sent a message, Jonesy, but I don't think it got through. I've justbeen looking at my portable. It seems to be busted. Happened when theyfirst attacked us, I guess. I tripped and fell on it.     Isobar's last hope flickered out.     Then I—I guess it won't be long now, he mourned. If we could haveonly got a message through, they would have sent out an armored car topick us up. But as it is—     Brown's shrug displayed a bravado he did not feel.     Well, that's the way it goes. We knew what we were risking when wevolunteered to come Outside. This damn moon! It'll never be wortha plugged credit until men find some way to fight those murderousstones-on-legs!     Roberts said, That's right. But what are      you     doing out here, Isobar?And why, for Pete's sake, the bagpipes?     Oh—the pipes? Isobar flushed painfully. He had almost forgottenhis original reason for adventuring Outside, had quite forgottenhis instrument, and was now rather amazed to discover that somehowthroughout all the excitement he had held onto it. Why, I justhappened to—Oh!      the pipes!          Hold on! roared Roberts. His warning came just in time. Once more,the three tree-sitters shook like dried peas in a pod as their leafyrefuge trembled before the locomotive onslaught of the lunar beasts.This time the already-exposed roots strained and lifted, severalsnapped; when the Grannies again withdrew, complacently unaware thatthe lethal ray of Brown's Haemholtz was wasting itself upon theiradamant hides in futile fury, the tree was bent at a precarious angle.     Brown sobbed, not with fear but with impotent anger, and in a gestureof enraged desperation, hurled his now-empty weapon at the retreatingGrannies.     No good! Not a damn bit of good! Oh, if there was only some way offighting those filthy things—     But Isobar Jones had a one-track mind. The pipes! he cried again,excitedly. That's the answer! And he drew the instrument into playingposition, bag cuddled beneath one arm-pit, drones stiffly erect overhis shoulder, blow-pipe at his lips. His cheeks puffed, his breathexpelled. The giant lung swelled, the chaunter emitted its distinctive,fearsome,       Kaa-aa-o-o-o-oro-oong!          Roberts moaned.     Oh, Lord! A guy can't even die in peace!     And Brown stared at him hopelessly.     It's no use, Isobar. You trying to scare them off? They have no senseof hearing. That's been proven—     Isobar took his lips from the reed to explain.     It's not that. I'm trying to rouse the boys in the Dome. We're rightopposite the atmosphere-conditioning-unit. See that grilled duct overthere? That's an inhalation-vent. The portable transmitter's out oforder, and our voices ain't strong enough to carry into the Dome—butthe sound of these pipes is! And Commander Eagan told me just a shortwhile ago that the sound of the pipes carries all over the building!     If they hear this, they'll get mad because I'm disobeyin' orders.They'll start lookin' for me. If they can't find me inside, maybethey'll look Outside. See that window? That's Sparks' turret. If we canmake him look out here—           Stop talking!      roared Roberts. Stop talking, guy, and startblowing! I think you've got something there. Anyhow, it's our lasthope.      Blow!          And quick! appended Brown. For here they come!        Isobar played, blew with all his might, while the Grannies raged below.        He meant the Grannies. Again they were huddling for attack, once more,a solid phalanx of indestructible, granite flesh, they were smashingdown upon the tree.           Haa-a-roong!      blew Isobar Jones.      IV     And—even he could not have foreseen the astounding results ofhis piping! What happened next was as astonishing as it wasincomprehensible. For as the pipes, filled now and primed to burst intowhatever substitute for melody they were prodded into, wailed intoaction—the Grannies' rush came to an abrupt halt!     As one, they stopped cold in their tracks and turned dull, colorless,questioning eyes upward into the tree whence came this weird andvibrant droning!     So stunned with surprise was Isobar that his grip on the pipes relaxed,his lips almost slipped from the reed. But Brown's delighted bellowlifted his paralysis.     Sacred rings of Saturn-look! They      like     it! Keep playing, Jonesy!Play, boy, like you never played before!     And Roberts roared, above the skirling of the      piobaireachd     intowhich Isobar had instinctively swung, Music hath charms to soothe thesavage beast! Then we were wrong. They      can     hear, after all! See that?They're lying down to listen—like so many lambs! Keep playing, Isobar!For once in my life I'm glad to hear that lovely, wonderful music!     Isobar needed no urging. He, too, had noted how the Grannies' attackhad stopped, how every last one of the gaunt grey beasts had suddenly,quietly, almost happily, dropped to its haunches at the base of thetree.     There was no doubt about it; the Grannies      liked     this music. Eyesraptly fixed, unblinking, unwavering, they froze into postures ofgentle beatitude. One stirred once, dangerously, as for a moment Isobarpaused to catch his breath, but Isobar hastily lipped the blow-pipewith redoubled eagerness, and the Granny relapsed into quietude.     Followed then what, under somewhat different circumstances, should havebeen a piper's dream. For Isobar had an audience which would not—andin two cases      dared     not—allow him to stop playing. And to thisaudience he played over and over again his entire repertoire. Marches,flings, dances—the stirring      Rhoderik Dhu     and the lilting      LassiesO'Skye     , the mournful      Coghiegh nha Shie     whose keening is like thesound of a sobbing nation.       The Cock o' the North     , he played, and      Mironton     ...      Wee Flow'r o'Dee     and      MacArthur's March     ...      La Cucuracha     and—     And his lungs were parched, his lips dry as swabs of cotton. Bloodpounded through his temples, throbbing in time to the drone of thechaunter, and a dark mist gathered before his eyes. He tore theblow-pipe from his lips, gasped,     Keep playing! came the dim, distant howl of Johnny Brown. Just a fewminutes longer, Jonesy! Relief is on the way. Sparks saw us from histurret window five minutes ago!     And Isobar played on. How, or what, he did not know. The memory ofthose next few minutes was never afterward clear in his mind. All heknew was that above the skirling drone of his pipes there came anothersound, the metallic clanking of a man-made machine ... an armored tank,sent from the Dome to rescue the beleaguered trio.     He was conscious, then, of a friendly voice shouting words ofencouragement, of Joe Roberts calling a warning to those below.     Careful, boys! Drive the tank right up beneath us so we can hop in andget out of here! Watch the Grannies—they'll be after us the minuteIsobar stops playing!     Then the answer from below. The fantastic answer in Sparks' familiarvoice. The answer that caused the bagpipes to slip from Isobar'sfingers as Isobar Jones passed out in a dead faint:     After you? Those Grannies? Hell's howling acres—      those Grannies arestone dead     !  <doc-sep>So now here we were at the outer reaches of the Baldric, four travelerson foot with only the barest necessities in the way of equipment andsupplies.     I walked forward to get a closer view of one of the flagpole trees. Andthen abruptly I saw something else.     A queer-looking bird squatted there in the sand, looking up at me.Silver in plumage, it resembled a parrot with a crest; and yet itdidn't. In some strange way the thing was a hideous caricature.     Look what I found, I yelled.     What I found, said the cockatoo in a very human voice.     Thunder, it talks, I said amazed.     Talks, repeated the bird, blinking its eyes.     The cockatoo repeated my last statement again, then rose on its shortlegs, flapped its wings once and soared off into the sky. Xartal,the Martian illustrator, already had a notebook in his hands and wassketching a likeness of the creature.     Ten minutes later we were on the move again. We saw more silvercockatoos and more flagpole trees. Above us, the great disc of Jupiterbegan to descend toward the horizon.     And then all at once Grannie stopped again, this time at the top of ahigh ridge. She shielded her eyes and stared off into the plain we hadjust crossed.     Billy-boy, she said to me in a strange voice, look down there andtell me what you see.     I followed the direction of her hand and a shock went through me fromhead to foot. Down there, slowly toiling across the sand, advanced aparty of four persons. In the lead was a little old lady in a blackdress. Behind her strode a grizzled Earth man in a flop-brimmed hat,another Earth man, and a Martian.       Detail for detail they were a duplicate of ourselves!       A mirage! said Ezra Karn.     But it wasn't a mirage. As the party came closer, we could see thattheir lips were moving, and their voices became audible. I listened inawe. The duplicate of myself was talking to the duplicate of GrannieAnnie, and she was replying in the most natural way.     Steadily the four travelers approached. Then, when a dozen yards away,they suddenly faded like a negative exposed to light and disappeared.     What do you make of it? I said in a hushed voice.     Grannie shook her head. Might be a form of mass hypnosis superinducedby some chemical radiations, she replied. Whatever it is, we'd betterwatch our step. There's no telling what might lie ahead.     We walked after that with taut nerves and watchful eyes, but we saw norepetition of the mirage. The wind continued to blow ceaselessly, andthe sand seemed to grow more and more powdery.     For some time I had fixed my gaze on a dot in the sky which I supposedto be a high-flying cockatoo. As that dot continued to move across theheavens in a single direction, I called Grannie's attention to it.     It's a kite, she nodded. There should be a car attached to itsomewhere.     She offered no further explanation, but a quarter of an hour later aswe topped another rise a curious elliptical car with a long slantingwindscreen came into view. Attached to its hood was a taut wire whichslanted up into the sky to connect with the kite.     A man was driving and when he saw us, he waved. Five minutes laterGrannie was shaking his hand vigorously and mumbling introductions.     This is Jimmy Baker, she said. He manages      Larynx Incorporated     , andhe's the real reason we're here.     I decided I liked Baker the moment I saw him. In his middle thirties,he was tall and lean, with pleasant blue eyes which even his sandgoggles could not conceal.     I can't tell you how glad I am you're here, Grannie, he said. Ifanybody can help me, you can.     Grannie's eyes glittered. Trouble with the mine laborers? shequestioned.  <doc-sep>Not until they had vanished in the desert haze did I sense theloneliness of this outpost. With that loneliness came a sudden sense offoreboding. Had I been a fool to let Grannie go? I thought of her, anold woman who should be in a rocking chair, knitting socks. If anythinghappened to Annabella C. Flowers, I would never forgive myself andneither would her millions of readers.     Ezra Karn and I went back into the office. The old prospector chuckled.     Dang human dynamo. Got more energy than a runaway comet.     A connecting door on the far side of the office opened onto a longcorridor which ended at a staircase.     Let's look around, I said.     We passed down the corridor and climbed the staircase to the secondfloor. Here were the general offices of      Larynx Incorporated     , andthrough glass doors I could see clerks busy with counting machines andreport tapes. In another chamber the extremely light Acoustix ore wasbeing packed into big cases and marked for shipment. At the far end adoor to a small room stood open. Inside a young man was tilted back ina swivel chair before a complicated instrument panel.     C'mon in, he said, seeing us. If you want a look at your friends,here they are.     He flicked a stud, and the entire wall above the panel underwent aslow change of colors. Those colors whirled kaleidescopically, thencoalesced into a three-dimensional scene.     It was a scene of a rapidly unfolding desert country as seen from therear of a kite car. Directly behind the windscreen, backs turned to me,were Jimmy Baker, Grannie, and Xartal. It was as if I were standingdirectly behind them.     It's Mr. Baker's own invention, the operator said. An improvement onthe visiphone.     Do you mean to say you can follow the movements of that car and itspassengers wherever it goes? Can you hear them talk too?     Sure. The operator turned another dial, and Grannie's falsetto voiceentered the room. It stopped abruptly. The machine uses a lot ofpower, the operator said, and as yet we haven't got much.     The cloud of anxiety which had wrapped itself about me disappearedsomewhat as I viewed this device. At least I could now keep myselfposted of Grannie's movements.     Karn and I went down to the commissary where we ate our supper. Whenwe returned to Jimmy Baker's office, the visiphone bell was ringing.I went over to it and turned it on, and to my surprise the face ofAntlers Park flashed on the screen.     Hello, he said in his friendly way. I see you arrived all right. IsMiss Flowers there?     Miss Flowers left with Mr. Baker for Shaft Four, I said. There'strouble up there. Red spot fever.     Fever, eh? repeated Park. That's a shame. Is there anything I cando?     Tell me, I said, has your company had any trouble with this plague?     A little. But up until yesterday the fever's been confined to theother side of the Baldric. We had one partial case, but my chemistsgave the chap an antitoxin that seems to have worked. Come to think ofit, I might drive over to Shaft Four and give Jimmy Baker the formula.I haven't been out in the Baldric for years, but if you didn't have anytrouble, I shouldn't either.     We exchanged a few more pleasantries, and then he rang off. In exactlyan hour I went upstairs to the visiscreen room.     Then once more I was directly behind my friends, listening in on theirconversation. The view through the windscreen showed an irregular arrayof flagpole trees, with the sky dotted by high-flying cockatoos.     There's an eyrie over there, Jimmy Baker was saying. We might aswell camp beside it.  <doc-sep>Half an hour later we headed into the unknown. The Venusian boatmenwere ill-at-ease now and jabbered among themselves constantly. Wecamped that night on a miserable little island where insects swarmedabout us in hordes. The next day an indefinable wave of weariness anddespondency beset our entire party. I caught myself musing over thefutility of the venture. Only the pleadings of Grannie Annie kept mefrom turning back. On the morrow I realized the truth in her warning,that all of us had been exposed to the insidious radiations.     After that I lost track of time. Day after day of incessant rain ... ofsteaming swamp.... But at length we reached firm ground and began ouradvance on foot.     It was Karn who first sighted the ship. Striding in the lead, hesuddenly halted at the top of a hill and leveled his arm before him.There it lay, a huge cigar-shaped vessel of blackened      arelium     steel,half buried in the swamp soil.     What's that thing on top? Karn demanded, puzzled.     A rectangular metal envelope had been constructed over the sternquarters of the ship. Above this structure were three tall masts. Andsuspended between them was a network of copper wire studded with whiteinsulators.     Grannie gazed a long moment through binoculars. Billy-boy, take threeVenusians and head across the knoll, she ordered. Ezra and I willcircle in from the west. Fire a gun if you strike trouble.     But we found no trouble. The scene before us lay steeped in silence.Moments later our two parties converged at the base of the great ship.     A metal ladder extended from the envelope down the side of the vessel.Mid-way we could see a circular hatch-like door.     Up we go, Billy-boy. Heat gun in readiness, Grannie Annie began toclimb slowly.     The silence remained absolute. We reached the door and pulled it open.There was no sign of life.     Somebody's gone to a lot of trouble here, Ezra Karn observed.     Somebody had. Before us stretched a narrow corridor, flanked on theleft side by a wall of impenetrable stepto glass. The corridor wasbare of furnishings. But beyond the glass, revealed to us in mockingclarity, was a high panel, studded with dials and gauges. Even as welooked, we could see liquid pulse in glass tubes, indicator needlesswing slowly to and fro.     Grannie nodded. Some kind of a broadcasting unit. The Green Flames inthe lower hold are probably exposed to a      tholpane     plate and theirradiations stepped up by an electro-phosicalic process.     Karn raised the butt of his pistol and brought it crashing against theglass wall. His arm jumped in recoil, but the glass remained intact.     You'll never do it that way, Grannie said. Nothing short of anatomic blast will shatter that wall. It explains why there are noguards here. The mechanism is entirely self-operating. Let's see if theGreen Flames are more accessible.     In the lower hold disappointment again confronted us. Visible inthe feeble shafts of daylight that filtered through cracks in thevessel's hull were tiers of rectangular ingots of green iridescent ore.Suspended by insulators from the ceiling over them was a thick metalplate.     But between was a barrier. A wall of impenetrable stepto glass.     Grannie stamped her foot. It's maddening, she said. Here we are atthe crux of the whole matter, and we're powerless to make a singlemove.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What can you tell me about the Grannies, also known as Granitebacks, in TROUBLE ON TYCHO?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you tell me where the story TROUBLE ON TYCHO takes place? [SEP] <s>   TROUBLE ON TYCHO     By NELSON S. BOND     Isobar and his squeeze-pipes were the bane of     the Moon Station's existence. But there came     the day when his comrades found that the worth     of a man lies sometimes in his nuisance value.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories March 1943.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The audiophone buzzed thrice—one long, followed by two shorts—andIsobar Jones pressed the stud activating its glowing scanner-disc.     Hummm? he said absent-mindedly.     The selenoplate glowed faintly, and the image of the Dome Commanderappeared.     Report ready, Jones?     Almost, acknowledged Isobar gloomily. It prob'ly ain't right,though. How anybody can be expected to get      anything     right on thisdagnabbed hunk o' green cheese—     Send it up, interrupted Colonel Eagan, as soon as you can. Sparks ismaking Terra contact now. That is all.     That ain't all! declared Isobar indignantly. How about my bag—?     It      was all     , so far as the D.C. was concerned. Isobar was talkingto himself. The plate dulled. Isobar said, Nuts! and returned tohis duties. He jotted neat ditto marks under the word Clear which,six months ago, he had placed beneath the column headed:      Cond. ofObs.     He noted the proper figures under the headings      Sun Spots     :      MaxFreq.     —      Min. Freq.     ; then he sketched careful curves in blue and redink upon the Mercator projection of Earth which was his daily worksheet.     This done, he drew a clean sheet of paper out of his desk drawer,frowned thoughtfully at the tabulated results of his observations, andbegan writing.           Weather forecast for Terra     , he wrote, his pen making scratchingsounds.     The audiophone rasped again. Isobar jabbed the stud and answeredwithout looking.     O.Q., he said wearily. O.Q. I told you it would be ready in a coupleo' minutes. Keep your pants on!     I—er—I beg your pardon, Isobar? queried a mild voice.     Isobar started. His sallow cheeks achieved a sickly salmon hue. Heblinked nervously.     Oh, jumpin' jimminy! he gulped.       You     , Miss Sally! Golly—'scuse me!I didn't realize—     The Dome Commander's niece giggled.     That's all right, Isobar. I just called to ask you about the weatherin Oceania Sector 4B next week. I've got a swimming date at Waikiki,but I won't make the shuttle unless the weather's going to be nice.     It is, promised Isobar. It'll be swell all weekend, Miss Sally.Fine sunshiny weather. You can go.     That's wonderful. Thanks so much, Isobar.     Don't mention it, ma'am, said Isobar, and returned to his work.     South America. Africa. Asia. Pan-Europa. Swiftly he outlined themeteorological prospects for each sector. He enjoyed this part of hisjob. As he wrote forecasts for each area, in his mind's eye he sawhimself enjoying such pastimes as each geographical division's terrainrendered possible.  <doc-sep>   My Lady Greensleeves     By FREDERIK POHL     Illustrated by GAUGHAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction February 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        This guard smelled trouble and it could be       counted on to come—for a nose for trouble       was one of the many talents bred here!        I     His name was Liam O'Leary and there was something stinking in hisnostrils. It was the smell of trouble. He hadn't found what the troublewas yet, but he would. That was his business. He was a captain ofguards in Estates-General Correctional Institution—better known toits inmates as the Jug—and if he hadn't been able to detect the scentof trouble brewing a cell-block away, he would never have survived toreach his captaincy.     And her name, he saw, was Sue-Ann Bradley, Detainee No. WFA-656R.     He frowned at the rap sheet, trying to figure out what got a girl likeher into a place like this. And, what was more important, why shecouldn't adjust herself to it, now that she was in.     He demanded: Why wouldn't you mop out your cell?     The girl lifted her head angrily and took a step forward. The blockguard, Sodaro, growled warningly: Watch it, auntie!     O'Leary shook his head. Let her talk, Sodaro. It said in the      CivilService Guide to Prison Administration     : Detainees will be permittedto speak in their own behalf in disciplinary proceedings. And O'Learywas a man who lived by the book.     She burst out: I never got a chance! That old witch Mathias never toldme I was supposed to mop up. She banged on the door and said, 'Slushup, sister!' And then, ten minutes later, she called the guards andtold them I refused to mop.     The block guard guffawed. Wipe talk—that's what she was telling youto do. Cap'n, you know what's funny about this? This Bradley is—     Shut up, Sodaro.  <doc-sep>When Annabella C. Flowers, that renowned writer of science fiction,visiphoned me at Crater City, Mars, to meet her here, I had thought shewas crazy. But Miss Flowers, known to her friends as Grannie Annie,had always been mildly crazy. If you haven't read her books, you'vemissed something. She's the author of      Lady of the Green Flames     ,      Lady of the Runaway Planet     ,      Lady of the Crimson Space-Beast     , andother works of science fiction. Blood-and-thunder as these books are,however, they have one redeeming feature—authenticity of background.Grannie Annie was the original research digger-upper, and when shelaid the setting of a yarn on a star of the sixth magnitude, only atransportation-velocity of less than light could prevent her fromvisiting her stage in person.     Therefore when she asked me to meet her at the landing field of      Interstellar Voice     on Jupiter's Eighth Moon, I knew she had anothernovel in the state of embryo.     What I didn't expect was Ezra Karn. He was an old prospector Granniehad met, and he had become so attached to the authoress he now followedher wherever she went. As for Xartal, he was a Martian and was slatedto do the illustrations for Grannie's new book.     Five minutes after my ship had blasted down, the four of us met in theoffices of      Interstellar Voice     . And then I was shaking hands withAntlers Park, the manager of I. V. himself.     Glad to meet you, he said cordially. I've just been trying topersuade Miss Flowers not to attempt a trip into the Baldric.     What's the Baldric? I had asked.     Antlers Park flicked the ash from his cheroot and shrugged.     Will you believe me, sir, he said, when I tell you I've been outhere on this forsaken moon five years and don't rightly know myself?     I scowled at that; it didn't make sense.     However, as you perhaps know, the only reason for colonial activitieshere at all is because of the presence of an ore known as Acoustix.It's no use to the people of Earth but of untold value on Mars. I'mnot up on the scientific reasons, but it seems that life on the redplanet has developed with a supersonic method of vocal communication.The Martian speaks as the Earthman does, but he amplifies his thoughts'transmission by way of wave lengths as high as three million vibrationsper second. The trouble is that by the time the average Martian reachesmiddle age, his ability to produce those vibrations steadily decreases.Then it was found that this ore, Acoustix, revitalized their soundingapparatus, and the rush was on.     What do you mean?     Park leaned back. The rush to find more of the ore, he explained.But up until now this moon is the only place where it can be found.     There are two companies here, he continued,       Interstellar Voice     and      Larynx Incorporated     . Chap by the name of Jimmy Baker runs that.However, the point is, between the properties of these two companiesstretches a band or belt which has become known as the Baldric.     There are two principal forms of life in the Baldric; flagpole treesand a species of ornithoid resembling cockatoos. So far no one hascrossed the Baldric without trouble.     What sort of trouble? Grannie Annie had demanded. And when AntlersPark stuttered evasively, the old lady snorted, Fiddlesticks, I neversaw trouble yet that couldn't be explained. We leave in an hour.  <doc-sep>O'Leary choked back his temper. Warden, I'm telling you that there'strouble coming up. I smell the signs.     Handle it, then! snapped the warden, irritated at last.     But suppose it's too big to handle. Suppose—     It isn't, the warden said positively. Don't borrow trouble withall your supposing, O'Leary. He sipped the remains of his coffee,made a wry face, poured a fresh cup and, with an elaborate show of notnoticing what he was doing, dropped three of the pale blue tablets intoit this time.     He sat beaming into space, waiting for the jolt to take effect.     Well, then, he said at last. You just remember what I've told youtonight, O'Leary, and we'll get along fine. 'Specialization is the—'Oh, curse the thing.     His phone was ringing. The warden picked it up irritably.     That was the trouble with those pale blue tablets, thought O'Leary;they gave you a lift, but they put you on edge.     Hello, barked the warden, not even glancing at the viewscreen. Whatthe devil do you want? Don't you know I'm—What? You did      what     ?You're going to WHAT?     He looked at the viewscreen at last with a look of pure horror.Whatever he saw on it, it did not reassure him. His eyes opened likeclamshells in a steamer.     O'Leary, he said faintly, my mistake.     And he hung up—more or less by accident; the handset dropped from hisfingers.     The person on the other end of the phone was calling from Cell Block O.     Five minutes before, he hadn't been anywhere near the phone and itdidn't look as if his chances of ever getting near it were very good.Because five minutes before, he was in his cell, with the rest of thehard-timers of the Greensleeves.     His name was Flock.     He was still yelling. Sue-Ann Bradley, in the cell across from him,thought that maybe, after all, the man was really in pain. Maybe thecrazy screams were screams of agony, because certainly his face was theface of an agonized man.     The outside guard bellowed: Okay, okay. Take ten!     Sue-Ann froze, waiting to see what would happen. What actually didhappen was that the guard reached up and closed the switch thatactuated the tangler fields on the floors of the cells. The prisonrules were humanitarian, even for the dregs that inhabited theGreensleeves. Ten minutes out of every two hours, even the worst casehad to be allowed to take his hands out of the restraining garment.     Rest period it was called—in the rule book. The inmates had a lesslovely term for it.  <doc-sep>   THE EXPENDABLES     BY JIM HARMON     It was just a little black box,     useful for getting rid of things.     Trouble was, it worked too well!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, May 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      You see my problem, Professor? Tony Carmen held his pinkly manicured,flashily ringed hands wide.     I saw his problem and it was warmly embarrassing.     Really, Mr. Carmen, I said, this isn't the sort of thing you discusswith a total stranger. I'm not a doctor—not of medicine, anyway—or alawyer.     They can't help me. I need an operator in your line.     I work for the United States government. I can't become involved inanything illegal.     Carmen smoothed down the front of his too-tight midnight blue suit andtouched the diamond sticking in his silver tie. You can't, ProfessorVenetti? Ever hear of the Mafia?     I've heard of it, I said uneasily. An old fraternal organizationsomething like the Moose or Rosicrucians, founded in Sicily. Itallegedly controls organized crime in the U.S. But that is aresponsibility-eluding myth that honest Italian-Americans are stampingout. We don't even like to see the word in print.     I can understand      honest     Italian-Americans feeling that way. But guyslike me know the Mafia is still with it. We can put the squeeze onmarks like you pretty easy.     You don't have to tell even a third generation American about theMafia. Maybe that was the trouble. I had heard too much and for toolong. All the stories I had ever heard about the Mafia, true or false,built up an unendurable threat.     All right, I'll try to help you, Carmen. But ... that is, you didn'tkill any of these people?     He snorted. I haven't killed anybody since early 1943.     Please, I said weakly. You needn't incriminate yourself with me.     I was in the Marines, Carmen said hotly. Listen, Professor, thesearen't no Prohibition times. Not many people get made for a hit thesedays. Mother, most of these bodies they keep ditching at my clubhaven't been murdered by anybody. They're accident victims. Rumbumswith too much anti-freeze for a summer's day, Spanish-American War vetsgoing to visit Teddy in the natural course of events. Harry Keno juststows them at my place to embarrass me. Figures to make me lose myliquor license or take a contempt before the Grand Jury.     I don't suppose you could just go to the police— I saw the answer inhis eyes. No. I don't suppose you could.     I told you once, Professor, but I'll tell you again. I have to get ridof these bodies they keep leaving in my kitchen. I can take 'em andthrow them in the river, sure. But what if me or my boys are stopped enroute by some tipped badge?     Quicklime? I suggested automatically.     What are you talking about? Are you sure you're some kind ofscientist? Lime doesn't do much to a stiff at all. Kind of putrifiesthem like....     I forgot, I admitted. I'd read it in so many stories I'd forgottenit wouldn't work. And I suppose the furnace leaves ashes and there'salways traces of hair and teeth in the garbage disposal... Aninteresting problem, at that.     I figured you could handle it, Carmen said, leaning back comfortablyin the favorite chair of my bachelor apartment. I heard you wereworking on something to get rid of trash for the government.     That, I told him, is restricted information. I subcontracted thatwork from the big telephone laboratories. How did you find it out?     Ways, Professor, ways.     The government did want me to find a way to dispose ofwastes—radioactive wastes. It was the most important problem anycountry could have in this time of growing atomic industry. Now asmall-time gangster was asking me to use this research to help himdispose of hot corpses. It made my scientific blood seethe. But theshadow of the Black Hand cooled it off.     Maybe I can find something in that area of research to help you, Isaid. I'll call you.     Don't take too long, Professor, Carmen said cordially.  <doc-sep>Tremaine left the hotel, walked two blocks west along Commerce Streetand turned in at a yellow brick building with the words ELSBYMUNICIPAL POLICE cut in the stone lintel above the door. Inside, aheavy man with a creased face and thick gray hair looked up from behindan ancient Underwood. He studied Tremaine, shifted a toothpick to theopposite corner of his mouth.     Don't I know you, mister? he said. His soft voice carried a note ofauthority.     Tremaine took off his hat. Sure you do, Jess. It's been a while,though.     The policeman got to his feet. Jimmy, he said, Jimmy Tremaine. Hecame to the counter and put out his hand. How are you, Jimmy? Whatbrings you back to the boondocks?     Let's go somewhere and sit down, Jess.     In a back room Tremaine said, To everybody but you this is just avisit to the old home town. Between us, there's more.     Jess nodded. I heard you were with the guv'ment.     It won't take long to tell; we don't know much yet. Tremaine coveredthe discovery of the powerful unidentified interference on thehigh-security hyperwave band, the discovery that each transmissionproduced not one but a pattern of fixes on the point of origin. Hepassed a sheet of paper across the table. It showed a set of concentriccircles, overlapped by a similar group of rings.     I think what we're getting is an echo effect from each of thesepoints of intersection. The rings themselves represent the diffractionpattern—     Hold it, Jimmy. To me it just looks like a beer ad. I'll take yourword for it.     The point is this, Jess: we think we've got it narrowed down to thissection. I'm not sure of a damn thing, but I think that transmitter'snear here. Now, have you got any ideas?     That's a tough one, Jimmy. This is where I should come up with thenews that Old Man Whatchamacallit's got an attic full of gear he saysis a time machine. Trouble is, folks around here haven't even takento TV. They figure we should be content with radio, like the Lordintended.     I didn't expect any easy answers, Jess. But I was hoping maybe you hadsomething ...     Course, said Jess, there's always Mr. Bram ...     Mr. Bram, repeated Tremaine. Is he still around? I remember him as ahundred years old when I was kid.     Still just the same, Jimmy. Comes in town maybe once a week, buys hisgroceries and hikes back out to his place by the river.     Well, what about him?     Nothing. But he's the town's mystery man. You know that. A littletouched in the head.     There were a lot of funny stories about him, I remember, Tremainesaid. I always liked him. One time he tried to teach me somethingI've forgotten. Wanted me to come out to his place and he'd teach me.I never did go. We kids used to play in the caves near his place, andsometimes he gave us apples.  <doc-sep>When he awoke, a rough voice was saying, Okay. Snap out of it.     He opened his eyes and recognized the police commissioner's office. Itwould be hard not to recognize: the room was large, devoid of furnitureexcept for a desk and chairs, but the walls were lined with thecontrols of television screens, electronic calculators and a hundredother machines that formed New York's mechanical police force.     Commissioner Hendricks was a remarkable character. There was somethingwrong with his glands, and he was a huge, greasy bulk of a man withbushy eyebrows and a double chin. His steel-gray eyes showed somethingof his intelligence and he would have gone far in politics if fatehadn't made him so ugly, for more than half the voters who elected mento high political positions were women.     Anyone who knew Hendricks well liked him, for he was a friendly,likable person. But the millions of women voters who saw his face onposters and on their TV screens saw only the ugly face and heard onlythe harsh voice. The President of the United States was a capableman, but also a very handsome one, and the fact that a man who lookedsomething like a bulldog had been elected as New York's policecommissioner was a credit to Hendricks and millions of women voters.     Where's the girl? Joe asked.     I processed her while you were out cold. She left. Joe, you—     Okay, Joe said. I'll save you the trouble. I admit it. Attemptedrape. I confess.     Hendricks smiled. Sorry, Joe. You missed the boat again. He reachedout and turned a dial on his desk top. We had a microphone hidden inthat alley. We have a lot of microphones hidden in a lot of alleys.You'd be surprised at the number of conspiracies that take place inalleys!     Joe listened numbly to his voice as it came from one of the hundreds ofmachines on the walls,       Scream. Scream as loud as you can, and whenthe cops get here, tell 'em I tried to rape you.      And then the girl'svoice,       Sorry, buddy. Can't help—          He waved his hand. Okay. Shut it off. I confess to conspiracy.  <doc-sep>   DOWN TO THE WORLDS OF MEN     BY ALEXEI PANSHIN     The ancient rule was sink or swim—swim     in the miasma of a planet without     spaceflight, or sink to utter destruction!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1963.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      I     The horses and packs were loaded before we went aboard the scoutship.The scout bay is no more than a great oversized airlock with a dozensmall ships squatting over their tubes, but it was the last of the Shipthat I might ever see, so I took a long final look from the top of theramp.     There were sixteen of us girls and thirteen boys. We took our placesin the seats in the center of the scout. Riggy Allen made a joke thatnobody bothered to laugh at, and then we were all silent. I was feelinglost and just beginning to enjoy it when Jimmy Dentremont came over tome. He's red-headed and has a face that makes him look about ten. Anintelligent runt like me.     He said what I expected. Mia, do you want to go partners if we can gettogether when we get down?     I guess he thought that because we were always matched on study I likedhim. Well, I did when I wasn't mad at him, but now I had that crackhe'd made about being a snob in mind, so I said, Not likely. I want tocome back alive. It wasn't fair, but it was a good crack and he wentback to his place without saying anything.     My name is Mia Havero. I'm fourteen, of course, or I wouldn't betelling this. I'm short, dark and scrawny, though I don't expect thatscrawniness to last much longer. Mother is very good looking. In themeantime, I've got brains as a consolation.     After we were all settled, George Fuhonin, the pilot, raised the ramps.We sat there for five minutes while they bled air out of our tube andthen we just ... dropped. My stomach turned flips. We didn't have toleave that way, but George thinks it's fun to be a hot pilot.     Thinking it over, I was almost sorry I'd been stinking to Jimmy D. He'sthe only competition I have my own age. The trouble is, you don't gopartners with the competition, do you? Besides, there was still thatcrack about being a snob.     The planet chosen for our Trial was called Tintera. The last contactthe Ship had had with it—and we were the ones who dropped them—wasalmost 150 years ago. No contact since. That had made the Councildebate a little before they dropped us there, but they decided it wasall right in the end. It didn't make any practical difference to uskids because they never tell you anything about the place they're goingto drop you. All I knew was the name. I wouldn't have known that muchif Daddy weren't Chairman of the Council.     I felt like crawling in a corner of the ship and crying, but nobodyelse was breaking down, so I didn't. I did feel miserable. I cried whenI said good-by to Mother and Daddy—a real emotional scene—but thatwasn't in public.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you tell me where the story TROUBLE ON TYCHO takes place?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the story of Isobar Jones in TROUBLE ON TYCHO? [SEP] <s>   TROUBLE ON TYCHO     By NELSON S. BOND     Isobar and his squeeze-pipes were the bane of     the Moon Station's existence. But there came     the day when his comrades found that the worth     of a man lies sometimes in his nuisance value.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories March 1943.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The audiophone buzzed thrice—one long, followed by two shorts—andIsobar Jones pressed the stud activating its glowing scanner-disc.     Hummm? he said absent-mindedly.     The selenoplate glowed faintly, and the image of the Dome Commanderappeared.     Report ready, Jones?     Almost, acknowledged Isobar gloomily. It prob'ly ain't right,though. How anybody can be expected to get      anything     right on thisdagnabbed hunk o' green cheese—     Send it up, interrupted Colonel Eagan, as soon as you can. Sparks ismaking Terra contact now. That is all.     That ain't all! declared Isobar indignantly. How about my bag—?     It      was all     , so far as the D.C. was concerned. Isobar was talkingto himself. The plate dulled. Isobar said, Nuts! and returned tohis duties. He jotted neat ditto marks under the word Clear which,six months ago, he had placed beneath the column headed:      Cond. ofObs.     He noted the proper figures under the headings      Sun Spots     :      MaxFreq.     —      Min. Freq.     ; then he sketched careful curves in blue and redink upon the Mercator projection of Earth which was his daily worksheet.     This done, he drew a clean sheet of paper out of his desk drawer,frowned thoughtfully at the tabulated results of his observations, andbegan writing.           Weather forecast for Terra     , he wrote, his pen making scratchingsounds.     The audiophone rasped again. Isobar jabbed the stud and answeredwithout looking.     O.Q., he said wearily. O.Q. I told you it would be ready in a coupleo' minutes. Keep your pants on!     I—er—I beg your pardon, Isobar? queried a mild voice.     Isobar started. His sallow cheeks achieved a sickly salmon hue. Heblinked nervously.     Oh, jumpin' jimminy! he gulped.       You     , Miss Sally! Golly—'scuse me!I didn't realize—     The Dome Commander's niece giggled.     That's all right, Isobar. I just called to ask you about the weatherin Oceania Sector 4B next week. I've got a swimming date at Waikiki,but I won't make the shuttle unless the weather's going to be nice.     It is, promised Isobar. It'll be swell all weekend, Miss Sally.Fine sunshiny weather. You can go.     That's wonderful. Thanks so much, Isobar.     Don't mention it, ma'am, said Isobar, and returned to his work.     South America. Africa. Asia. Pan-Europa. Swiftly he outlined themeteorological prospects for each sector. He enjoyed this part of hisjob. As he wrote forecasts for each area, in his mind's eye he sawhimself enjoying such pastimes as each geographical division's terrainrendered possible.  <doc-sep>Commander Eagan said, You'd better find some new way of amusingyourself, Jones. Have you read General Order 17?     Isobar said, I seen it. But if you think—     It says, stated Eagan deliberately, '      In order that work or restperiods of the Dome's staff may not be disturbed, it is hereby orderedthat the playing or practicing of all or any musical instruments mustbe discontinued immediately. By order of the Dome Commander     ,' Thatmeans you, Jones!     But, dingbust it! keened Isobar, it don't disturb nobody for me toplay my bagpipes! I know these lunks around here don't appreciate goodmusic, so I always go in my office and lock the door after me—     But the Dome, pointed out Commander Eagan, has an air-conditioningsystem which can't be shut off. The ungodly moans ofyour—er—so-called musical instrument can be heard through the entirestructure.     He suddenly seemed to gain stature.     No, Jones, this order is final! You cannot disrupt our entireorganization for your own—er—amusement.     But— said Isobar.     No!     Isobar wriggled desperately. Life on Luna was sorry enough already.If now they took from him the last remaining solace he had, the lastamusement which lightened his moments of freedom—     Look, Commander! he pleaded, I tell you what I'll do. I won't bothernobody. I'll go Outside and play it—     Outside! Eagan stared at him incredulously. Are you mad? How aboutthe Grannies?     Isobar knew all about the Grannies. The only mobile form of lifefound by space-questing man on Earth's satellite, their name was anabbreviation of the descriptive one applied to them by the first Lunarexployers: Granitebacks. This was no exaggeration; if anything, it wasan understatement. For the Grannies, though possessed of certain lowintelligence, had quickly proven themselves a deadly, unyielding andimplacable foe.     Worse yet, they were an enemy almost indestructible! No man had everyet brought to Earth laboratories the carcass of a Grannie; sciencewas completely baffled in its endeavors to explain the composition ofGraniteback physiology—but it was known, from bitter experience, thatthe carapace or exoskeleton of the Grannies was formed of somethingharder than steel, diamond, or battleplate! This flesh could bepenetrated by no weapon known to man; neither by steel nor flame,by electronic nor ionic wave, nor by the lethal, newly discoveredatomo-needle dispenser.     All this Isobar knew about the Grannies. Yet:     They ain't been any Grannies seen around the Dome, he said, fora 'coon's age. Anyhow, if I seen any comin', I could run right backinside—     No! said Commander Eagan flatly. Absolutely,      no     ! I have no timefor such nonsense. You know the orders—obey them! And now, gentlemen,good afternoon!     He left. Sparks turned to Isobar, grinning.     Well, he said, one man's fish—hey, Jonesy? Too bad you can't playyour doodlesack any more, but frankly, I'm just as glad. Of all theawful screeching wails—     But Isobar Jones, generally mild and gentle, was now in a perfectfury. His pale eyes blazed, he stomped his foot on the floor, and fromhis lips poured a stream of such angry invective that Riley lookedstartled. Words that, to Isobar, were the utter dregs of violentprofanity.     Oh, dagnab it! fumed Isobar Jones. Oh, tarnation and dingbust!Oh—      fiddlesticks     !      II     And so, chuckled Riley, he left, bubbling like a kettle on a red-hotoven. But, boy! was he ever mad! Just about ready to bust, he was.     Some minutes had passed since Isobar had left; Riley was talking to Dr.Loesch, head of the Dome's Physics Research Division. The older mannodded commiseratingly.     It is funny, yes, he agreed, but at the same time it is notaltogether amusing. I feel sorry for him. He is a very unhappy man, ourpoor Isobar.     Yeah, I know, said Riley, but, hell, we all get a little bithomesick now and then. He ought to learn to—     Excuse me, my boy, interrupted the aged physicist, his voice gentle,it is not mere homesickness that troubles our friend. It is somethingdeeper, much more vital and serious. It is what my people call:      weltschmertz     . There is no accurate translation in English. It means'world sickness,' or better, 'world weariness'—something like that butintensified a thousandfold.     It is a deeply-rooted mental condition, sometimes a dangerous frameof mind. Under its grip, men do wild things. Hating the world on whichthey find themselves, they rebel in curious ways. Suicide ... mad actsof valor ... deeds of cunning or knavery....     You mean, demanded Sparks anxiously, Isobar ain't got all hisbuttons?     Not that exactly. He is perfectly sane. But he is in a dark morassof despair. He may try      anything     to retrieve his lost happiness, ridhis soul of its dark oppression. His world-sickness is like a cryinghunger—By the way, where is he now?     Below, I guess. In his quarters.     Ah, good! Perhaps he is sleeping. Let us hope so. In slumber he willfind peace and forgetfulness.     But Dr. Loesch would have been far less sanguine had some power thegiftie gi'en him of watching Isobar Jones at that moment.     Isobar was not asleep. Far from it. Wide awake and very much astir, hewas acting in a singularly sinister role: that of a slinking, furtiveculprit.     Returning to his private cubicle after his conversation with DomeCommander Eagan, he had stalked straightway to the cabinet wherein wasencased his precious set of bagpipes. These he had taken from theirpegs, gazed upon defiantly, and fondled with almost parental affection.     So I can't play you, huh? he muttered darkly. It disturbs the peaceo' the dingfounded, dumblasted Dome staff, does it? Well, we'll      see     about that!     And tucking the bag under his arm, he had cautiously slipped from theroom, down little-used corridors, and now he stood before the huge      impervite     gates which were the entrance to the Dome and the doorwayto Outside.     On all save those occasions when a spacecraft landed in the cradleadjacent the gateway, these portals were doubly locked and barred. Buttoday they had been unbolted that the two maintenance men might ventureout. And since it was quite possible that Brown and Roberts might haveto get inside in a hurry, their bolts remained drawn. Sole guardian ofthe entrance was a very bored Junior Patrolman.     Up to this worthy strode Isobar Jones, confident and assured, exudingan aura of propriety.     Very well, Wilkins, he said. I'll take over now. You may go to themeeting.     Wilkins looked at him bewilderedly.     Huh? Whuzzat, Mr. Jones?     Isobar's eyebrows arched.     You mean you haven't been notified?     Notified of      what     ?     Why, the general council of all Patrolmen! Weren't you told that Iwould take your place here while you reported to G.H.Q.?     I ain't, puzzled Wilkins, heard nothing about it. Maybe I ought tocall the office, maybe?     And he moved the wall-audio. But Isobar said swiftly. That—er—won'tbe necessary, Wilkins. My orders were plain enough. Now, you just runalong. I'll watch this entrance for you.     We-e-ell, said Wilkins, if you say so. Orders is orders. But keep asharp eye out, Mister Jones, in case Roberts and Brown should come backsudden-like.     I will, promised Isobar, don't worry.  <doc-sep>Riley motioned for silence, but nodded. He finished the weather report,entered the Dome Commander's log upon the Home Office records, anddictated a short entry from the Luna Biological Commission. Then:     That is all, he concluded.     O.Q., verified the other radioman. Isobar writhed anxiously, proddedRiley's shoulder.     Ask him, Sparks! Go on ask him!     Oh, cut jets, will you? snapped Sparks. The Terra operator lookedstartled.     How's that? I didn't say a word—     Don't be a dope, said Sparks, you dope! I wasn't talking to you.I'm entertaining a visitor, a refugee from a cuckoo clock. Look, do mea favor, chum? Can you twist your mike around so it's pointing out awindow?     What? Why—why, yes, but—     Without buts, said Sparks grumpily. Yours not to reason why; yoursbut to do or don't. Will you do it?     Well, sure. But I don't understand— The silver platter which hadmirrored the radioman's face clouded as the Earth operator twirled theinconoscope. Walls and desks of an ordinary broadcasting office spunbriefly into view; then the plate reflected a glimpse of an Earthlylandscape. Soft blue sky warmed by an atmosphere-shielded sun ... greentrees firmly rooted in still-greener grass ... flowers ... birds ...people....     Enough? asked Sparks.     Isobar Jones awakened from his trance, eyes dulling. Reluctantly henodded. Riley stared at him strangely, almost gently. To the otherradioman, O.Q., pal, he said. Cut!     Cut! agreed the other. The plate blanked out.     Thanks, Sparks, said Isobar.     Nothing, shrugged Riley       He twisted     the mike; not me. But—how comeyou always want to take a squint at Earth when the circuit's open,Jonesy? Homesick?     Sort of, admitted Isobar guiltily.     Well, hell, aren't we all? But we can't leave here for another sixmonths at least. Not till our tricks are up. I should think it'd onlymake you feel worse to see Earth.     It ain't Earth I'm homesick for, explained Isobar. It's—well, it'sthe things that go with it. I mean things like grass and flowers andtrees.     Sparks grinned; a mirthless, lopsided grin.     We've got      them     right here on Luna. Go look out the tower window,Jonesy. The Dome's nestled smack in the middle of the prettiest,greenest little valley you ever saw.     I know, complained Isobar. And that's what makes it even worse. Allthat pretty, soft, green stuff Outside—and we ain't allowed to go outin it. Sometimes I get so mad I'd like to—     To, interrupted a crisp voice, what?     Isobar spun, flushing; his eyes dropped before those of Dome CommanderEagan. He squirmed.     N-nothing, sir. I was only saying—     I heard you, Jones. And please let me hear no more of such talk, sir!It is strictly forbidden for anyone to go Outside except in cases ofabsolute necessity. Such labor as caused Patrolmen Brown and Roberts togo, for example—     Any word from them yet, sir? asked Sparks eagerly.     Not yet. But we're expecting them to return at any minute now. Jones!Where are      you     going?     Why—why, just back to my quarters, sir.     That's what I thought. And what did you plan to do there?     Isobar said stubbornly, Well, I sort of figured I'd amuse myself for awhile—     I thought that, too. And with      what     , pray, Jones?     With the only dratted thing, said Isobar, suddenly petulant, thatgives me any fun around this dagnabbed place! With my bagpipe.  <doc-sep>If home is where the heart is, Horatio Jones—known better as Isobarto his associates at the Experimental Dome on Luna—was a long, longway from home. His lean, gangling frame was immured, and had been forsix tedious Earth months, beneath the      impervite     hemisphere of LunarIII—that frontier outpost which served as a rocket refueling station,teleradio transmission point and meteorological base.     Six solid months! Six sad, dreary months! thought Isobar, Locked upin an airtight Dome like—like a goldfish in a glass bowl! Sunlight?Oh, sure! But filtered through ultraviolet wave-traps so it could notburn, it left the skin pale and lustreless and clammy as the belly of atoad. Fresh air? Pooh! Nothing but that everlasting sickening, scented,reoxygenated stuff gushing from atmo-conditioning units.     Excitement? Adventure? The romance he had been led to expect when hesigned on for frontier service? Bah! Only a weary, monotonous, routineexistence.     A pain! declared Isobar Jones. That's what it is; a pain in thestummick. Not even allowed to—Yeah?     It was Sparks, audioing from the Dome's transmission turret. He said,Hyah, Jonesy! How comes with the report?     Done, said Isobar. I was just gettin' the sheets together for you.     O.Q. But just bring      it     . Nothing else.     Isobar bridled.     I don't know what you're talkin' about.     Oh, no? Well, I'm talking about that squawk-filled doodlesack ofyours, sonny boy. Don't bring that bag-full of noise up here with you.     Isobar said defiantly, It ain't a doodlesack. It's a bagpipe. And Iguess I can play it if I want to—     Not, said Sparks emphatically, in      my     cubby! I've got sensitiveeardrums. Well, stir your stumps! I've got to get the report rollingquick today. Big doings up here.     Yeah? What?     Well, it's Roberts and Brown—     What about 'em?     They've gone Outside to make foundation repairs.     Lucky stiffs! commented Isobar ruefully.     Lucky, no. Stiffs, maybe—if they should meet any Grannies. Well,scoot along. I'm on the ether in four point sixteen minutes.     Be right up, promised Isobar, and, sheets in hand, he ambled from hiscloistered cell toward the central section of the Dome.     He didn't leave Sparks' turret after the sheets were delivered.Instead, he hung around, fidgeting so obtrusively that Riley finallyturned to him in sheer exasperation.     Sweet snakes of Saturn, Jonesy, what's the trouble? Bugs in yourbritches?     Isobar said, H-huh? Oh, you mean—Oh, thanks, no! I just thought mebbeyou wouldn't mind if I—well—er—     I get it! Sparks grinned. Want to play peekaboo while the contact'sopen, eh? Well, O.Q. Watch the birdie!     He twisted dials, adjusted verniers, fingered a host ofincomprehensible keys. Current hummed and howled. Then a plate beforehim cleared, and the voice of the Earth operator came in, enunciatingwith painstaking clarity:     Earth answering Luna. Earth answering Luna's call. Can you hear me,Luna? Can you hear—?     I can not only hear you, snorted Riley, I can see you and smell you,as well. Stop hamming it, stupid! You're lousing up the earth!     The now-visible face of the Earth radioman drew into a grimace ofdispleasure.     Oh, it's      you     ? Funny man, eh? Funny man Riley?     Sure, said Riley agreeably. I'm a scream. Four-alarm Riley,the cosmic comedian—didn't you know? Flick on your dictacoder,oyster-puss; here's the weather report. He read it. '      Weatherforecast for Terra, week of May 15-21     —'     Ask him, whispered Isobar eagerly. Sparks, don't forget to ask him!  <doc-sep>Brown stared at this evidence of the Grannies' power withterror-fascinated eyes. His voice was none too firm.     Lord! Piledrivers! A couple more like that—     Isobar nodded. He knew what falling into the clutch of the Granniesmeant. He had once seen the grisly aftermath of a Graniteback feast.Even now their adversaries had drawn back for a second attack. A suddenidea struck him. A straw of hope at which he grasped feverishly.     You telecast a message to the Dome? Help should be on the way by now.If we can just hold out—     But Roberts shook his head.     We sent a message, Jonesy, but I don't think it got through. I've justbeen looking at my portable. It seems to be busted. Happened when theyfirst attacked us, I guess. I tripped and fell on it.     Isobar's last hope flickered out.     Then I—I guess it won't be long now, he mourned. If we could haveonly got a message through, they would have sent out an armored car topick us up. But as it is—     Brown's shrug displayed a bravado he did not feel.     Well, that's the way it goes. We knew what we were risking when wevolunteered to come Outside. This damn moon! It'll never be wortha plugged credit until men find some way to fight those murderousstones-on-legs!     Roberts said, That's right. But what are      you     doing out here, Isobar?And why, for Pete's sake, the bagpipes?     Oh—the pipes? Isobar flushed painfully. He had almost forgottenhis original reason for adventuring Outside, had quite forgottenhis instrument, and was now rather amazed to discover that somehowthroughout all the excitement he had held onto it. Why, I justhappened to—Oh!      the pipes!          Hold on! roared Roberts. His warning came just in time. Once more,the three tree-sitters shook like dried peas in a pod as their leafyrefuge trembled before the locomotive onslaught of the lunar beasts.This time the already-exposed roots strained and lifted, severalsnapped; when the Grannies again withdrew, complacently unaware thatthe lethal ray of Brown's Haemholtz was wasting itself upon theiradamant hides in futile fury, the tree was bent at a precarious angle.     Brown sobbed, not with fear but with impotent anger, and in a gestureof enraged desperation, hurled his now-empty weapon at the retreatingGrannies.     No good! Not a damn bit of good! Oh, if there was only some way offighting those filthy things—     But Isobar Jones had a one-track mind. The pipes! he cried again,excitedly. That's the answer! And he drew the instrument into playingposition, bag cuddled beneath one arm-pit, drones stiffly erect overhis shoulder, blow-pipe at his lips. His cheeks puffed, his breathexpelled. The giant lung swelled, the chaunter emitted its distinctive,fearsome,       Kaa-aa-o-o-o-oro-oong!          Roberts moaned.     Oh, Lord! A guy can't even die in peace!     And Brown stared at him hopelessly.     It's no use, Isobar. You trying to scare them off? They have no senseof hearing. That's been proven—     Isobar took his lips from the reed to explain.     It's not that. I'm trying to rouse the boys in the Dome. We're rightopposite the atmosphere-conditioning-unit. See that grilled duct overthere? That's an inhalation-vent. The portable transmitter's out oforder, and our voices ain't strong enough to carry into the Dome—butthe sound of these pipes is! And Commander Eagan told me just a shortwhile ago that the sound of the pipes carries all over the building!     If they hear this, they'll get mad because I'm disobeyin' orders.They'll start lookin' for me. If they can't find me inside, maybethey'll look Outside. See that window? That's Sparks' turret. If we canmake him look out here—           Stop talking!      roared Roberts. Stop talking, guy, and startblowing! I think you've got something there. Anyhow, it's our lasthope.      Blow!          And quick! appended Brown. For here they come!        Isobar played, blew with all his might, while the Grannies raged below.        He meant the Grannies. Again they were huddling for attack, once more,a solid phalanx of indestructible, granite flesh, they were smashingdown upon the tree.           Haa-a-roong!      blew Isobar Jones.      IV     And—even he could not have foreseen the astounding results ofhis piping! What happened next was as astonishing as it wasincomprehensible. For as the pipes, filled now and primed to burst intowhatever substitute for melody they were prodded into, wailed intoaction—the Grannies' rush came to an abrupt halt!     As one, they stopped cold in their tracks and turned dull, colorless,questioning eyes upward into the tree whence came this weird andvibrant droning!     So stunned with surprise was Isobar that his grip on the pipes relaxed,his lips almost slipped from the reed. But Brown's delighted bellowlifted his paralysis.     Sacred rings of Saturn-look! They      like     it! Keep playing, Jonesy!Play, boy, like you never played before!     And Roberts roared, above the skirling of the      piobaireachd     intowhich Isobar had instinctively swung, Music hath charms to soothe thesavage beast! Then we were wrong. They      can     hear, after all! See that?They're lying down to listen—like so many lambs! Keep playing, Isobar!For once in my life I'm glad to hear that lovely, wonderful music!     Isobar needed no urging. He, too, had noted how the Grannies' attackhad stopped, how every last one of the gaunt grey beasts had suddenly,quietly, almost happily, dropped to its haunches at the base of thetree.     There was no doubt about it; the Grannies      liked     this music. Eyesraptly fixed, unblinking, unwavering, they froze into postures ofgentle beatitude. One stirred once, dangerously, as for a moment Isobarpaused to catch his breath, but Isobar hastily lipped the blow-pipewith redoubled eagerness, and the Granny relapsed into quietude.     Followed then what, under somewhat different circumstances, should havebeen a piper's dream. For Isobar had an audience which would not—andin two cases      dared     not—allow him to stop playing. And to thisaudience he played over and over again his entire repertoire. Marches,flings, dances—the stirring      Rhoderik Dhu     and the lilting      LassiesO'Skye     , the mournful      Coghiegh nha Shie     whose keening is like thesound of a sobbing nation.       The Cock o' the North     , he played, and      Mironton     ...      Wee Flow'r o'Dee     and      MacArthur's March     ...      La Cucuracha     and—     And his lungs were parched, his lips dry as swabs of cotton. Bloodpounded through his temples, throbbing in time to the drone of thechaunter, and a dark mist gathered before his eyes. He tore theblow-pipe from his lips, gasped,     Keep playing! came the dim, distant howl of Johnny Brown. Just a fewminutes longer, Jonesy! Relief is on the way. Sparks saw us from histurret window five minutes ago!     And Isobar played on. How, or what, he did not know. The memory ofthose next few minutes was never afterward clear in his mind. All heknew was that above the skirling drone of his pipes there came anothersound, the metallic clanking of a man-made machine ... an armored tank,sent from the Dome to rescue the beleaguered trio.     He was conscious, then, of a friendly voice shouting words ofencouragement, of Joe Roberts calling a warning to those below.     Careful, boys! Drive the tank right up beneath us so we can hop in andget out of here! Watch the Grannies—they'll be after us the minuteIsobar stops playing!     Then the answer from below. The fantastic answer in Sparks' familiarvoice. The answer that caused the bagpipes to slip from Isobar'sfingers as Isobar Jones passed out in a dead faint:     After you? Those Grannies? Hell's howling acres—      those Grannies arestone dead     !  <doc-sep>Wilkins moved away. Isobar waited until the Patrolman was completelyout of sight. Then swiftly he pulled open the massive gate, slippedthrough, and closed it behind him.     A flood of warmth, exhilarating after the constantly regulatedtemperature of the Dome, descended upon him. Fresh air, thin, butfragrant with the scent of growing things, made his pulses stir withjoyous abandon. He was Outside! He was Outside, in good sunlight, atlast! After six long and dreary months!     Raptly, blissfully, all thought of caution tossed to the gentle breezesthat ruffled his sparse hair, Isobar Jones stepped forward into thelunar valley....     How long he wandered thus, carefree and utterly content, he could notafterward say. It seemed like minutes; it must have been longer. Heonly knew that the grass was green beneath his feet, the trees were alacy network through which warm sunlight filtered benevolently, thechirrupings of small insects and the rustling whisper of the breezesformed a tiny symphony of happiness through which he moved as onecharmed.     It did not occur to him that he had wandered too far from the Dome'sentrance until, strolling through an enchanting flower-decked glade, hewas startled to hear—off to his right—the sharp, explosive bark of aHaemholtz ray pistol.     He whirled, staring about him wildly, and discovered that though hismeandering had kept him near the Dome, he had unconsciously followedits hemispherical perimeter to a point nearly two miles from theGateway. By the placement of ports and windows, Isobar was able tojudge his location perfectly; he was opposite that portion of thestructure which housed Sparks' radio turret.     And the shooting? That could only be—     He did not have to name its reason, even to himself. For at thatmoment, there came racing around the curve of the Dome a pair offigures, Patrolmen clad in fatigue drab. Roberts and Brown. Roberts wasstaggering, one foot dragged awkwardly as he ran; Brown's left arm,bloodstained from shoulder to elbow, hung limply at his side, but inhis good right fist he held a spitting Haemholtz with which he tried tocover his comrade's sluggish retreat.     And behind these two, grim, grey, gaunt figures that moved withastonishing speed despite their massive bulk, came three ... six ... adozen of those lunarites whom all men feared. The Grannies!      III     Simultaneously with his recognition of the pair, Joe Roberts saw him. Agasp of relief escaped the wounded man.     Jones! Thank the Lord! Then you picked up our cry for help? Quick,man—where is it? Theres not a moment to waste!     W-where, faltered Isobar feebly, is      what     ?     The tank, of course! Didn't you hear our telecast? We can't possiblymake it back to the gate without an armored car. My foot's broken,and— Roberts stopped suddenly, an abrupt horror in his eyes. Youdon't have one! You're here      alone     ! Then you didn't pick up our call?But, why—?     Never mind that, snapped Isobar, now! Placid by nature, he couldmove when urgency drove. His quick mind saw the immediateness of theirperil. Unarmed, he could not help the Patrolmen fight a delaying actionagainst their foes, nor could he hasten their retreat. Anyway, weaponswere useless, and time was of the essence. There was but one temporaryway of staving off disaster. Over here ... this tree! Quick! Up yougo! Give him a lift, Brown—There! That's the stuff!     He was the last to scramble up the gnarled bole to a tentative leafysanctuary. He had barely gained the security of the lowermost boughwhen a thundering crash resounded, the sturdy trunk trembled beneathhis clutch. Stony claws gouged yellow parallels in the bark scantinches beneath one kicking foot, then the Granny fell back with a thud.The Graniteback was      not     a climber. It was far too ungainly, much tooweighty for that.     Roberts said weakly, Th-thanks, Jonesy! That was a close call.     That goes for me, too, Jonesy, added Brown from an upper bough.But I'm afraid you just delayed matters. This tree's O.Q. as longas it lasts, but— He stared down upon the gathering knot ofGrannies unhappily—it's not going to last long with that bunch ofsuperdreadnaughts working out on it! Hold tight, fellows! Here theycome!     For the Grannies, who had huddled for a moment as if in telepathicconsultation, now joined forces, turned, and as one body chargedheadlong toward the tree. The unified force of their attack was likethe shattering impact of a battering ram. Bark rasped and grittedbeneath the besieged men's hands, dry leaves and twigs pelted aboutthem in a tiny rain, tormented fibrous sinews groaned as the agedforest monarch shuddered in agony.     Desperately they clung to their perches. Though the great tree bent, itdid not break. But when it stopped trembling, it was canted drunkenlyto one side, and the erstwhile solid earth about its base was brokenand cracked—revealing fleshy tentacles uprooted from ancient moorings!  <doc-sep>Hendricks rose from behind the desk, walked leisurely to where Joe wasslouched in a chair. Give me your CPA ID.     Joe handed him the card with trembling fingers. He felt as if the worldhad collapsed beneath him. Conspiracy to commit a crime wasn't a crime.Anyone could conspire. And if the conspirators were prevented fromcommitting a crime, then that meant the CPA had functioned properlyonce again. That meant the CPA had once again      prevented     crime, andthe CPA didn't punish crimes or attempted crimes, and it didn't attemptto prevent crimes      by     punishment. If it did, that would be a violationof the New Civil Rights.     Hendricks crossed the room, deposited the card in a slot and punched abutton. The machine hummed and a new card appeared.     When Hendricks handed him the new card, Joe saw that the wordsDANGEROUS CRIMINAL TENDENCIES were now in red and larger than before.And, in slightly smaller print, the ID card stated that the owner was aDCT First Class.     You've graduated, Hendricks said coldly. You guys never learn, doyou? Now you're a DCT First Class instead of a Second Class. You knowwhat that means?     Hendricks leaned closer until Joe could feel his breath on his face.That means your case history will be turned over to the newspapers.You'll be the hobby of thousands of amateur cops. You know how itworks? It's like this. The Joneses are sitting around tomorrow nightand they're bored. Then Mr. Jones says, 'Let's go watch this JoeHarper.' So they look up your record—amateur cops always keep recordsof First Classes in scrapbooks—and they see that you stop frequentlyat Walt's Tavern.     So they go there and they sit and drink and watch you, trying notto let you know they're watching you. They watch you all night, justhoping you'll do something exciting, like trying to kill someone,so they can be the first ones to yell '      Police!     ' They'll watch youbecause it's exciting to be an amateur cop, and if they ever      did     prevent you from committing a crime, they'd get a nice reward andthey'd be famous.     Lay off, Joe said. I got a headache. That girl—     Hendricks leaned even closer and glared. You listen, Joe. This isinteresting. You see, it doesn't stop with Mr. and Mrs. Jones. There'sthousands of people like them. Years ago, they got their kicks fromreading about guys like you, but these days things are dull becauseit's rare when anyone commits a crime. So every time you walk downthe street, there'll be at least a dozen of 'em following you, and nomatter where you go, you can bet there'll be some of 'em sitting nextto you, standing next to you.     During the day, they'll take your picture with their spy cameras thatlook like buttons on their coats. At night, they'll peep at you throughyour keyhole. Your neighbors across the street will watch you throughbinoculars and—     Lay off!  <doc-sep>I don't mind conning the public from time to time, but I draw the lineat getting bilked myself. Look, friend, I'm busy, and I'm not knownfor my sense of humor. Or my generosity.     I'm not panhandling. I'm looking for a job.     Then try elsewhere. Suppose you stop wasting my time, bud. You're asEarthborn as I am.     I've never been within a dozen parsecs of Earth, he said smoothly. Ihappen to be a representative of the only Earthlike race that existsanywhere in the Galaxy but on Earth itself. Wazzenazz XIII is a smalland little-known planet in the Crab Nebula. Through an evolutionaryfluke, my race is identical with yours. Now, don't you want me in yourcircus?     No. And it's not a circus. It's—     A scientific institute. I stand corrected.     There was something glib and appealing about this preposterous phony. Iguess I recognized a kindred spirit or I would have tossed him out onhis ear without another word. Instead I played along. If you're fromsuch a distant place, how come you speak English so well?     I'm not speaking. I'm a telepath—not the kind that reads minds, justthe kind that projects. I communicate in symbols that you translateback to colloquial speech.     Very clever, Mr. Gorb. I grinned at him and shook my head. You spina good yarn—but for my money, you're really Sam Jones or Phil Smithfrom Earth, stranded here and out of cash. You want a free trip back toEarth. No deal. The demand for beings from Wazzenazz XIII is pretty lowthese days. Zero, in fact. Good-by, Mr. Gorb.     He pointed a finger squarely at me and said, You're making a bigmistake. I'm just what your outfit needs. A representative of ahitherto utterly unknown race identical to humanity in every respect!Look here, examine my teeth. Absolutely like human teeth! And—     I pulled away from his yawning mouth. Good-by, Mr. Gorb, I repeated.     All I ask is a contract, Corrigan. It isn't much. I'll be a bigattraction. I'll—           Good-by, Mr. Gorb!          He glowered at me reproachfully for a moment, stood up and sauntered tothe door. I thought you were a man of acumen, Corrigan. Well, thinkit over. Maybe you'll regret your hastiness. I'll be back to give youanother chance.     He slammed the door and I let my grim expression relax into a smile.This was the best con switch yet—an Earthman posing as an alien to geta job!     But I wasn't buying it, even if I could appreciate his clevernessintellectually. There's no such place as Wazzenazz XIII and there'sonly one human race in the Galaxy—on Earth. I was going to need somereal good reason before I gave a down-and-out grifter a free tickethome.     I didn't know it then, but before the day was out, I would have thatreason. And, with it, plenty of trouble on my hands.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the story of Isobar Jones in TROUBLE ON TYCHO?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in The Holes featuring John Smith? [SEP] <s>We played. Tune after tune.John knew them all, from thelatest pop melodies to a swing versionof the classic      Rhapsody of TheStars     . He was a quiet guy duringthe next couple of hours, and gettingmore than a few words fromhim seemed as hard as extracting atooth. He'd stand by his fiddle—Imean, his      Zloomph     —with a dreamyexpression in those watery eyes,staring at nothing.     But after one number he studiedFat Boy's clarinet for a moment.Nice clarinet, he mused. Has anunusual hole in the front.     Fat Boy scratched the back ofhis head. You—you mean here?Where the music comes out?     John Smith nodded. Unusual.     Hummm, I thought again.     Awhile later I caught him eyeingmy piano keyboard. What'sthe matter, John?     He pointed.     Oh, there, I said. A cigarettefell out of my ashtray, burnt a holein the key. If The Eye sees it, he'llswear at me in seven languages.     Even there, he said softly,even there....     There was no doubt about it.John Smith was peculiar, but hewas the best bass man this side of amusician's Nirvana.     It didn't take a genius to figureout our situation. Item one: Goon-Face'scountenance had evidencedan excellent imitation of Mephistophelesbefore John began to play.Item two: Goon-Face had beamedlike a kitten with a quart of creamafter John began to play.     Conclusion: If we wanted tokeep eating, we'd have to persuadeJohn Smith to join our combo.     At intermission I said, Howabout a drink, John? Maybe a shotof wine-syrup?     He shook his head.     Then maybe a Venusian fizz?     His grunt was negative.     Then some old-fashioned beer?     He smiled. Yes, I      like     beer.     I escorted him to the bar and assistedhim in his arduous climb ontoa stool.     John, I ventured after he'dtaken an experimental sip, wherehave you been hiding? A guy likeyou should be playing every night.     John yawned. Just got here. FiguredI might need some money soI went to the union. Then I workedon my plan.     Then you need a job. Howabout playing with us steady? Welike your style a lot.     He made a long, low hummingsound which I interpreted as anexpression of intense concentration.I don't know, he finally drawled.     It'd be a steady job, John. Inspirationstruck me. And listen, Ihave an apartment. It's got everything,solar shower, automatic chef,'copter landing—if we ever get a'copter. Plenty of room there fortwo people. You can stay with meand it won't cost you a cent. Andwe'll even pay you over unionwages.     His watery gaze wandered lazilyto the bar mirror, down to the glitteringarray of bottles and then outto the dance floor.     He yawned again and spokeslowly, as if each word were a leadenweight cast reluctantly from histongue:     No, I don't ... care much ...about playing.     What      do     you like to do, John?     His string-bean of a body stiffened.I like to study ancient history ...and I must work on myplan.     Oh Lord, that plan again!     I took a deep breath. Tell meabout it, John. It      must     be interesting.     He made queer clicking noiseswith his mouth that reminded meof a mechanical toy being woundinto motion. The whole foundationof this or any other culture isbased on the history of all the timedimensions, each interwoven withthe other, throughout the ages. Andthe holes provide a means of studyingall of it first hand.       Oh, oh     , I thought.      But you stillhave to eat. Remember, you stillhave to eat.       Trouble is, he went on, thereare so many holes in this universe.     Holes? I kept a straight face.     Certainly. Look around you. Allyou see is holes. These beer bottlesare just holes surrounded by glass.The doors and windows—they'reholes in walls. The mine tunnelsmake a network of holes under thedesert. Caves are holes, animals livein holes, our faces have holes,clothes have holes—millions andmillions of holes!     I winced and thought, humorhim because you gotta eat, yougotta eat.     His voice trembled with emotion.Why, they're everywhere. They'rein pots and pans, in pipes, in rocketjets, in bumpy roads. There are buttonholesand well holes, and shoelaceholes. There are doughnutholes and stocking holes and woodpeckerholes and cheese holes.Oceans lie in holes in the earth,and rivers and canals and valleys.The craters of the Moon are holes.Everything is—     But, John, I said as patiently aspossible, what have these holesgot to do with you?     He glowered at me as if I wereunworthy of such a confidence.What have they to do with me?he shrilled. I can't find the rightone—that's what!     I closed my eyes. Which particularhole are you looking for, John?     He was speaking rapidly againnow.     I was hurrying back to the Universitywith the      Zloomph     to provea point of ancient history to thosefools. They don't believe that instrumentswhich make music actuallyexisted before the tapes! Itwas dark—and some fool researcherhad forgotten to set a force-fieldover the hole—I fell through.     I closed my eyes. Now wait aminute. Did you drop something,lose it in the hole—is that why youhave to find it?     Oh I didn't lose anything important,he snapped,       just     my owntime dimension. And if I don't getback they will think I couldn't provemy theory, that I'm ashamed tocome back, and I'll be discredited.     His chest sagged for an instant.Then he straightened. But there'sstill time for my plan to work out—withthe relative difference takeninto account. Only I get so tiredjust thinking about it.     Yes, I can see where thinkingabout it would tire any one.     He nodded. But it can't be toofar away.     I'd like to hear more about it,I said. But if you're not going toplay with us—     Oh, I'll play with you, hebeamed. I can talk to      you     .      You     understand.     Thank heaven!  <doc-sep>        He was something out of a nightmare but his music was straightfrom heaven. He was a ragged little man out of a hole but hewas money in the bank to Stanley's four-piece combo. He was     —whoops!...       The Holes and John Smith     By Edward W. Ludwig       Illustration by Kelly Freas  <doc-sep>From the entrance of      TheSpace Room     came a thumpingand a grating and a banging. Suddenly,sweeping across the dancefloor like a cold wind, was a bassfiddle, an enormous black monstrosity,a refugee from a pawnbroker'sattic. It was queerly shaped. It wastoo tall, too wide. It was more likea monstrous, midnight-black hour-glassthan a bass.     The fiddle was not unaccompaniedas I'd first imagined. Behindit, streaking over the floor in awaltz of agony, was a little guy, ananimated matchstick with a flat,broad face that seemed to havebeen compressed in a vice. His sandcoloredmop of hair reminded meof a field of dry grass, the longstrands forming loops that flankedthe sides of his face.     His pale blue eyes were watery,like twin pools of fog. His tightfittingsuit, as black as the bass,was something off a park bench. Itwas impossible to guess his age. Hecould have been anywhere betweentwenty and forty.     The bass thumped down uponthe bandstand.     Hello, he puffed. I'm JohnSmith, from the Marsport union.He spoke shrilly and rapidly, as ifanxious to conclude the routine ofintroductions. I'm sorry I'm late,but I was working on my plan.     A moment's silence.     Your plan? I echoed at last.     How to get back home, hesnapped as if I should have knownit already.     Hummm, I thought.     My gaze turned to the dancefloor. Goon-Face had his eyes onus, and they were as cold as six Indiansgoing South.     We'll talk about your plan atintermission, I said, shivering.Now, we'd better start playing.John, do you know      On An AsteroidWith You     ?     I know      everything     , said JohnSmith.     I turned to my piano with ashudder. I didn't dare look at thathorrible fiddle again. I didn't darethink what kind of soul-chillingtones might emerge from its ancientdepths.     And I didn't dare look again atthe second monstrosity, the onenamed John Smith. I closed myeyes and plunged into a four-barintro.     Hammer-Head joined in onvibro-drums and Fat Boy on clarinet,and then—     My eyes burst open. A shivercoursed down my spine like giganticmice feet.     The tones that surged from thatmonstrous bass were ecstatic. Theywere out of a jazzman's Heaven.They were great rolling clouds thatseemed to envelop the entire universewith their vibrance. Theyheld a depth and a volume and arichness that were astounding, thatwere like no others I'd ever heard.     First they went      Boom-de-boom-de-boom-de-boom     ,and then,      boom-de-de-boom-de-de-boom-de-de-boom     ,just like the tones of all bassfiddles.     But there was something else, too.There were overtones, so that Johnwasn't just playing a single note,but a whole chord with each beat.And the fullness, the depth of thoseincredible chords actually set myblood tingling. I could      feel     thetingling just as one can feel the vibrationof a plucked guitar string.     I glanced at the cash customers.They looked like weary warriorsgetting their first glimpse of Valhalla.Gap-jawed and wide-eyed,they seemed in a kind of ecstatichypnosis. Even the silent, bland-facedMartians stopped sippingtheir wine-syrup and nodded theirdark heads in time with the rhythm.     I looked at The Eye. The transformationof his gaunt featureswas miraculous. Shadows of gloomdissolved and were replaced bya black-toothed, crescent-shapedsmile of delight. His eyes shone likethose of a kid seeing Santa Claus.     We finished      On An Asteroid WithYou     , modulated into      Sweet Sallyfrom Saturn     and finished with      Tighten Your Lips on Titan     .     We waited for the applause ofthe Earth people and the shrillingof the Martians to die down. ThenI turned to John and his fiddle.     If I didn't hear it, I gasped,I wouldn't believe it!     And the fiddle's so old, too!added Hammer-Head who, althoughsober, seemed quite drunk.     Old? said John Smith. Ofcourse it's old. It's over five thousandyears old. I was lucky to findit in a pawnshop. Only it's not afiddle but a      Zloomph     . This is theonly one in existence. He pattedthe thing tenderly. I tried the holein it but it isn't the right one.     I wondered what the hell he wastalking about. I studied the black,mirror-like wood. The aperture inthe vesonator was like that of anybass fiddle.     Isn't right for what? I had toask.     He turned his sad eyes to me.For going home, he said.     Hummm, I thought.  <doc-sep>All night the thought creptthrough my brain like a teasingspider:      What can we do to makehim stay? What can we tell him?What, what, what?       Unable to sleep the next morning,I left John to his snoring andwent for an aspirin and black coffee.All the possible schemes weredrumming through my mind: findingan Earth blonde to captureJohn's interest, having him electro-hypnotized,breaking his leg, forginga letter from this mythical universitytelling him his theory wasproved valid and for him to takea nice long vacation now. He wasa screwball about holes and forcefields and dimensional worlds butfor that music of his I'd baby himthe rest of his life.     It was early afternoon when Itrudged back to my apartment.     John was squatting on the livingroom floor, surrounded by a forestof empty beer bottles. His eyes werebulging, his hair was even wilderthan usual, and he was swaying.     John! I cried. You're drunk!     His watery eyes squinted at me.No, not drunk. Just scared. I'mawful scared!     But you mustn't be scared. Thatreporter was just stupid. We'll helpyou with your theory.     His body trembled. No, it isn'tthat. It isn't the reporter.     Then what is it, John?     It's my body. It's—     Yes, what about your body?Are you sick?     His face was white with terror.No, my—      my body's full of holes     .Suppose it's one of those holes!How will I get back if it is?     He rose and staggered to his      Zloomph     , clutching it as though itwere somehow a source of strengthand consolation.     I patted him gingerly on the arm.Now John. You've just had toomuch beer, that's all. Let's go outand get some air and some strongblack coffee. C'mon now.     We staggered out into the morningdarkness, the three of us. John,the      Zloomph     , and I.     I was hanging on to him tryingto see around and over and evenunder the      Zloomph     —steering by asort of radar-like sixth sense. Thestreet lights on Marsport are prettydim compared to Earthside. Ididn't see the open manhole thatthe workmen had figured would beall right at that time of night. Itgets pretty damned cold around 4: A.M.of a Martian morning, and Iguess the men were warming upwith a little nip at the bar acrossthe street.     Then—he was gone.     John just slipped out of my grasp—      Zloomph     and all—and was gone—completelyand irrevocably gone.I even risked a broken neck andjumped in the manhole after him.Nothing—nothing but the smell ofozone and an echo bouncing crazilyoff the walls of the conduit.     —is it.—is it.—is it.—is it.     John Smith was gone, so utterlyand completely and tragically goneit was as if he'd never existed....  <doc-sep>Tonight is our last night at      TheSpace Room     . Goon-Face is scowlingagain with the icy fury of aPlutonian monsoon. As Goon-Facehas said, No beeg feedle, no contract.     Without John, we're notes in alost chord.     We've searched everything, inhospitals, morgues, jails, night clubs,hotels. We've hounded spaceportsand 'copter terminals. Nowhere, nowhereis John Smith.     Ziggy, whose two fingers havehealed, has already bowed to whatseems inevitable. He's signed up forthat trip to Neptune's uraniumpits. There's plenty of room formore volunteers, he tells us. But Ispend my time cussing the guy whoforgot to set the force field at theother end of the hole and let Johnand his      Zloomph     back into his owntime dimension. I cuss harder whenI think how we were robbed of thebest bass player in the galaxy.     And without a corpus delecti wecan't even sue the city.       ... THE END    <doc-sep>Heaven lasted for just threedays. During those seventy-twogolden hours the melodious tinklingof The Eye's cash register was asconstant as that of Santa's sleighbells.     John became the hero of tourists,spacemen, and Martians, but neverthelesshe remained stubbornlyaloof. He was quiet, moody, playinghis      Zloomph     automatically. He'dreveal definite indications of belongingto Homo Sapiens only whendrinking beer and talking about hisholes.     Goon-Face was still cautious.     Contract? he wheezed. Maybe.We see. Eef feedleman stay, wehave contract. He stay, yes?     Oh, sure, I said. He'll stay—justas long as you want him.     Den he sign contract, too. Nobeeg feedle, no contract.     Sure. We'll get him to sign it.I laughed hollowly. Don't worry,Mr. Ke-teeli.     Just a few minutes later tragedystruck.     A reporter from the      MarsportTimes     ambled into interview theMan of The Hour. The interview,unfortunately, was conducted overthe bar and accompanied by a generousguzzling of beer. Fat Boy,Hammer-Head and I watchedfrom a table. Knowing John as wedid, a silent prayer was in our eyes.     This is the first time he's talkedto anybody, Fat Boy breathed.I—I'm scared.     Nothing can happen, I said,optimistically. This'll be good publicity.     We watched.     John murmured something. Thereporter, a paunchy, balding man,scribbled furiously in his notebook.     John yawned, muttered somethingelse. The reporter continuedto scribble.     John sipped beer. His eyesbrightened, and he began to talkmore rapidly.     The reporter frowned, stoppedwriting, and studied John curiously.     John finished his first beer,started on his second. His eyes werewild, and he was talking more andmore rapidly.     He's doing it, Hammer-Headgroaned. He's telling him!     I rose swiftly. We better getover there. We should have knownbetter—     We were too late. The reporterhad already slapped on his hat andwas striding to the exit. John turnedto us, dazed, his enthusiasm vanishinglike air from a punctured balloon.     He wouldn't listen, he said,weakly. I tried to tell him, but hesaid he'd come back when I'msober. I'm sober now. So I quit.I've got to find my hole.     I patted him on the back. No,John, we'll help you. Don't quit.We'll—well, we'll help you.     We're working on a plan, too,said Fat Boy in a burst of inspiration.We're going to make a morescientific approach.     How? John asked.     Fat Boy gulped.     Just wait another day, I said.We'll have it worked out. Just bepatient another day. You can'tleave now, not after all your work.     No, I guess not, he sighed. I'llstay—until tomorrow.  <doc-sep>When Humphrey Fownes stepped out of the widow's house, there was alook of such intense abstraction on his features that Lanfierre felt awistful desire to get out of the car and walk along with the man. Itwould be such a      deliciously     insane experience. (April has thirtydays, Fownes mumbled, passing them, because thirty is the largestnumber such that all smaller numbers not having a common divisorwith it are      primes     . MacBride frowned and added it to the dossier.Lanfierre sighed.)     Pinning his hopes on the Movement, Fownes went straight to thelibrary several blocks away, a shattered depressing place given overto government publications and censored old books with holes inthem. It was used so infrequently that the Movement was able to meetthere undisturbed. The librarian was a yellowed, dog-eared woman ofeighty. She spent her days reading ancient library cards and, like thebooks around her, had been rendered by time's own censor into nearunintelligibility.     Here's one, she said to him as he entered.       Gulliver's Travels.     Loaned to John Wesley Davidson on March 14, 1979 for      five     days. Whatdo you make of it?     In the litter of books and cards and dried out ink pads that surroundedthe librarian, Fownes noticed a torn dust jacket with a curiousillustration. What's that? he said.     A twister, she replied quickly. Now listen to      this     . Seven yearslater on March 21, 1986, Ella Marshall Davidson took out the same book.What do you make of      that     ?     I'd say, Humphrey Fownes said, that he ... that he recommended itto her, that one day they met in the street and he told her aboutthis book and then they ... they went to the library together and sheborrowed it and eventually, why eventually they got married.     Hah! They were brother and sister! the librarian shouted in herparched voice, her old buckram eyes laughing with cunning.     Fownes smiled weakly and looked again at the dust jacket. The twisterwas unquestionably a meteorological phenomenon. It spun ominously, likea malevolent top, and coursed the countryside destructively, carryinga Dorothy to an Oz. He couldn't help wondering if twisters did anythingto feminine pulses, if they could possibly be a part of a moonlitnight, with cocktails and roses. He absently stuffed the dust jacketin his pocket and went on into the other rooms, the librarian mumblingafter him: Edna Murdoch Featherstone, April 21, 1991, as thoughreading inscriptions on a tombstone.  <doc-sep>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in The Holes featuring John Smith?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What sparked John Smith's fascination with holes in The Holes and John Smith? [SEP] <s>We played. Tune after tune.John knew them all, from thelatest pop melodies to a swing versionof the classic      Rhapsody of TheStars     . He was a quiet guy duringthe next couple of hours, and gettingmore than a few words fromhim seemed as hard as extracting atooth. He'd stand by his fiddle—Imean, his      Zloomph     —with a dreamyexpression in those watery eyes,staring at nothing.     But after one number he studiedFat Boy's clarinet for a moment.Nice clarinet, he mused. Has anunusual hole in the front.     Fat Boy scratched the back ofhis head. You—you mean here?Where the music comes out?     John Smith nodded. Unusual.     Hummm, I thought again.     Awhile later I caught him eyeingmy piano keyboard. What'sthe matter, John?     He pointed.     Oh, there, I said. A cigarettefell out of my ashtray, burnt a holein the key. If The Eye sees it, he'llswear at me in seven languages.     Even there, he said softly,even there....     There was no doubt about it.John Smith was peculiar, but hewas the best bass man this side of amusician's Nirvana.     It didn't take a genius to figureout our situation. Item one: Goon-Face'scountenance had evidencedan excellent imitation of Mephistophelesbefore John began to play.Item two: Goon-Face had beamedlike a kitten with a quart of creamafter John began to play.     Conclusion: If we wanted tokeep eating, we'd have to persuadeJohn Smith to join our combo.     At intermission I said, Howabout a drink, John? Maybe a shotof wine-syrup?     He shook his head.     Then maybe a Venusian fizz?     His grunt was negative.     Then some old-fashioned beer?     He smiled. Yes, I      like     beer.     I escorted him to the bar and assistedhim in his arduous climb ontoa stool.     John, I ventured after he'dtaken an experimental sip, wherehave you been hiding? A guy likeyou should be playing every night.     John yawned. Just got here. FiguredI might need some money soI went to the union. Then I workedon my plan.     Then you need a job. Howabout playing with us steady? Welike your style a lot.     He made a long, low hummingsound which I interpreted as anexpression of intense concentration.I don't know, he finally drawled.     It'd be a steady job, John. Inspirationstruck me. And listen, Ihave an apartment. It's got everything,solar shower, automatic chef,'copter landing—if we ever get a'copter. Plenty of room there fortwo people. You can stay with meand it won't cost you a cent. Andwe'll even pay you over unionwages.     His watery gaze wandered lazilyto the bar mirror, down to the glitteringarray of bottles and then outto the dance floor.     He yawned again and spokeslowly, as if each word were a leadenweight cast reluctantly from histongue:     No, I don't ... care much ...about playing.     What      do     you like to do, John?     His string-bean of a body stiffened.I like to study ancient history ...and I must work on myplan.     Oh Lord, that plan again!     I took a deep breath. Tell meabout it, John. It      must     be interesting.     He made queer clicking noiseswith his mouth that reminded meof a mechanical toy being woundinto motion. The whole foundationof this or any other culture isbased on the history of all the timedimensions, each interwoven withthe other, throughout the ages. Andthe holes provide a means of studyingall of it first hand.       Oh, oh     , I thought.      But you stillhave to eat. Remember, you stillhave to eat.       Trouble is, he went on, thereare so many holes in this universe.     Holes? I kept a straight face.     Certainly. Look around you. Allyou see is holes. These beer bottlesare just holes surrounded by glass.The doors and windows—they'reholes in walls. The mine tunnelsmake a network of holes under thedesert. Caves are holes, animals livein holes, our faces have holes,clothes have holes—millions andmillions of holes!     I winced and thought, humorhim because you gotta eat, yougotta eat.     His voice trembled with emotion.Why, they're everywhere. They'rein pots and pans, in pipes, in rocketjets, in bumpy roads. There are buttonholesand well holes, and shoelaceholes. There are doughnutholes and stocking holes and woodpeckerholes and cheese holes.Oceans lie in holes in the earth,and rivers and canals and valleys.The craters of the Moon are holes.Everything is—     But, John, I said as patiently aspossible, what have these holesgot to do with you?     He glowered at me as if I wereunworthy of such a confidence.What have they to do with me?he shrilled. I can't find the rightone—that's what!     I closed my eyes. Which particularhole are you looking for, John?     He was speaking rapidly againnow.     I was hurrying back to the Universitywith the      Zloomph     to provea point of ancient history to thosefools. They don't believe that instrumentswhich make music actuallyexisted before the tapes! Itwas dark—and some fool researcherhad forgotten to set a force-fieldover the hole—I fell through.     I closed my eyes. Now wait aminute. Did you drop something,lose it in the hole—is that why youhave to find it?     Oh I didn't lose anything important,he snapped,       just     my owntime dimension. And if I don't getback they will think I couldn't provemy theory, that I'm ashamed tocome back, and I'll be discredited.     His chest sagged for an instant.Then he straightened. But there'sstill time for my plan to work out—withthe relative difference takeninto account. Only I get so tiredjust thinking about it.     Yes, I can see where thinkingabout it would tire any one.     He nodded. But it can't be toofar away.     I'd like to hear more about it,I said. But if you're not going toplay with us—     Oh, I'll play with you, hebeamed. I can talk to      you     .      You     understand.     Thank heaven!  <doc-sep>        He was something out of a nightmare but his music was straightfrom heaven. He was a ragged little man out of a hole but hewas money in the bank to Stanley's four-piece combo. He was     —whoops!...       The Holes and John Smith     By Edward W. Ludwig       Illustration by Kelly Freas  <doc-sep>All night the thought creptthrough my brain like a teasingspider:      What can we do to makehim stay? What can we tell him?What, what, what?       Unable to sleep the next morning,I left John to his snoring andwent for an aspirin and black coffee.All the possible schemes weredrumming through my mind: findingan Earth blonde to captureJohn's interest, having him electro-hypnotized,breaking his leg, forginga letter from this mythical universitytelling him his theory wasproved valid and for him to takea nice long vacation now. He wasa screwball about holes and forcefields and dimensional worlds butfor that music of his I'd baby himthe rest of his life.     It was early afternoon when Itrudged back to my apartment.     John was squatting on the livingroom floor, surrounded by a forestof empty beer bottles. His eyes werebulging, his hair was even wilderthan usual, and he was swaying.     John! I cried. You're drunk!     His watery eyes squinted at me.No, not drunk. Just scared. I'mawful scared!     But you mustn't be scared. Thatreporter was just stupid. We'll helpyou with your theory.     His body trembled. No, it isn'tthat. It isn't the reporter.     Then what is it, John?     It's my body. It's—     Yes, what about your body?Are you sick?     His face was white with terror.No, my—      my body's full of holes     .Suppose it's one of those holes!How will I get back if it is?     He rose and staggered to his      Zloomph     , clutching it as though itwere somehow a source of strengthand consolation.     I patted him gingerly on the arm.Now John. You've just had toomuch beer, that's all. Let's go outand get some air and some strongblack coffee. C'mon now.     We staggered out into the morningdarkness, the three of us. John,the      Zloomph     , and I.     I was hanging on to him tryingto see around and over and evenunder the      Zloomph     —steering by asort of radar-like sixth sense. Thestreet lights on Marsport are prettydim compared to Earthside. Ididn't see the open manhole thatthe workmen had figured would beall right at that time of night. Itgets pretty damned cold around 4: A.M.of a Martian morning, and Iguess the men were warming upwith a little nip at the bar acrossthe street.     Then—he was gone.     John just slipped out of my grasp—      Zloomph     and all—and was gone—completelyand irrevocably gone.I even risked a broken neck andjumped in the manhole after him.Nothing—nothing but the smell ofozone and an echo bouncing crazilyoff the walls of the conduit.     —is it.—is it.—is it.—is it.     John Smith was gone, so utterlyand completely and tragically goneit was as if he'd never existed....  <doc-sep>Tonight is our last night at      TheSpace Room     . Goon-Face is scowlingagain with the icy fury of aPlutonian monsoon. As Goon-Facehas said, No beeg feedle, no contract.     Without John, we're notes in alost chord.     We've searched everything, inhospitals, morgues, jails, night clubs,hotels. We've hounded spaceportsand 'copter terminals. Nowhere, nowhereis John Smith.     Ziggy, whose two fingers havehealed, has already bowed to whatseems inevitable. He's signed up forthat trip to Neptune's uraniumpits. There's plenty of room formore volunteers, he tells us. But Ispend my time cussing the guy whoforgot to set the force field at theother end of the hole and let Johnand his      Zloomph     back into his owntime dimension. I cuss harder whenI think how we were robbed of thebest bass player in the galaxy.     And without a corpus delecti wecan't even sue the city.       ... THE END    <doc-sep>From the entrance of      TheSpace Room     came a thumpingand a grating and a banging. Suddenly,sweeping across the dancefloor like a cold wind, was a bassfiddle, an enormous black monstrosity,a refugee from a pawnbroker'sattic. It was queerly shaped. It wastoo tall, too wide. It was more likea monstrous, midnight-black hour-glassthan a bass.     The fiddle was not unaccompaniedas I'd first imagined. Behindit, streaking over the floor in awaltz of agony, was a little guy, ananimated matchstick with a flat,broad face that seemed to havebeen compressed in a vice. His sandcoloredmop of hair reminded meof a field of dry grass, the longstrands forming loops that flankedthe sides of his face.     His pale blue eyes were watery,like twin pools of fog. His tightfittingsuit, as black as the bass,was something off a park bench. Itwas impossible to guess his age. Hecould have been anywhere betweentwenty and forty.     The bass thumped down uponthe bandstand.     Hello, he puffed. I'm JohnSmith, from the Marsport union.He spoke shrilly and rapidly, as ifanxious to conclude the routine ofintroductions. I'm sorry I'm late,but I was working on my plan.     A moment's silence.     Your plan? I echoed at last.     How to get back home, hesnapped as if I should have knownit already.     Hummm, I thought.     My gaze turned to the dancefloor. Goon-Face had his eyes onus, and they were as cold as six Indiansgoing South.     We'll talk about your plan atintermission, I said, shivering.Now, we'd better start playing.John, do you know      On An AsteroidWith You     ?     I know      everything     , said JohnSmith.     I turned to my piano with ashudder. I didn't dare look at thathorrible fiddle again. I didn't darethink what kind of soul-chillingtones might emerge from its ancientdepths.     And I didn't dare look again atthe second monstrosity, the onenamed John Smith. I closed myeyes and plunged into a four-barintro.     Hammer-Head joined in onvibro-drums and Fat Boy on clarinet,and then—     My eyes burst open. A shivercoursed down my spine like giganticmice feet.     The tones that surged from thatmonstrous bass were ecstatic. Theywere out of a jazzman's Heaven.They were great rolling clouds thatseemed to envelop the entire universewith their vibrance. Theyheld a depth and a volume and arichness that were astounding, thatwere like no others I'd ever heard.     First they went      Boom-de-boom-de-boom-de-boom     ,and then,      boom-de-de-boom-de-de-boom-de-de-boom     ,just like the tones of all bassfiddles.     But there was something else, too.There were overtones, so that Johnwasn't just playing a single note,but a whole chord with each beat.And the fullness, the depth of thoseincredible chords actually set myblood tingling. I could      feel     thetingling just as one can feel the vibrationof a plucked guitar string.     I glanced at the cash customers.They looked like weary warriorsgetting their first glimpse of Valhalla.Gap-jawed and wide-eyed,they seemed in a kind of ecstatichypnosis. Even the silent, bland-facedMartians stopped sippingtheir wine-syrup and nodded theirdark heads in time with the rhythm.     I looked at The Eye. The transformationof his gaunt featureswas miraculous. Shadows of gloomdissolved and were replaced bya black-toothed, crescent-shapedsmile of delight. His eyes shone likethose of a kid seeing Santa Claus.     We finished      On An Asteroid WithYou     , modulated into      Sweet Sallyfrom Saturn     and finished with      Tighten Your Lips on Titan     .     We waited for the applause ofthe Earth people and the shrillingof the Martians to die down. ThenI turned to John and his fiddle.     If I didn't hear it, I gasped,I wouldn't believe it!     And the fiddle's so old, too!added Hammer-Head who, althoughsober, seemed quite drunk.     Old? said John Smith. Ofcourse it's old. It's over five thousandyears old. I was lucky to findit in a pawnshop. Only it's not afiddle but a      Zloomph     . This is theonly one in existence. He pattedthe thing tenderly. I tried the holein it but it isn't the right one.     I wondered what the hell he wastalking about. I studied the black,mirror-like wood. The aperture inthe vesonator was like that of anybass fiddle.     Isn't right for what? I had toask.     He turned his sad eyes to me.For going home, he said.     Hummm, I thought.  <doc-sep>Heaven lasted for just threedays. During those seventy-twogolden hours the melodious tinklingof The Eye's cash register was asconstant as that of Santa's sleighbells.     John became the hero of tourists,spacemen, and Martians, but neverthelesshe remained stubbornlyaloof. He was quiet, moody, playinghis      Zloomph     automatically. He'dreveal definite indications of belongingto Homo Sapiens only whendrinking beer and talking about hisholes.     Goon-Face was still cautious.     Contract? he wheezed. Maybe.We see. Eef feedleman stay, wehave contract. He stay, yes?     Oh, sure, I said. He'll stay—justas long as you want him.     Den he sign contract, too. Nobeeg feedle, no contract.     Sure. We'll get him to sign it.I laughed hollowly. Don't worry,Mr. Ke-teeli.     Just a few minutes later tragedystruck.     A reporter from the      MarsportTimes     ambled into interview theMan of The Hour. The interview,unfortunately, was conducted overthe bar and accompanied by a generousguzzling of beer. Fat Boy,Hammer-Head and I watchedfrom a table. Knowing John as wedid, a silent prayer was in our eyes.     This is the first time he's talkedto anybody, Fat Boy breathed.I—I'm scared.     Nothing can happen, I said,optimistically. This'll be good publicity.     We watched.     John murmured something. Thereporter, a paunchy, balding man,scribbled furiously in his notebook.     John yawned, muttered somethingelse. The reporter continuedto scribble.     John sipped beer. His eyesbrightened, and he began to talkmore rapidly.     The reporter frowned, stoppedwriting, and studied John curiously.     John finished his first beer,started on his second. His eyes werewild, and he was talking more andmore rapidly.     He's doing it, Hammer-Headgroaned. He's telling him!     I rose swiftly. We better getover there. We should have knownbetter—     We were too late. The reporterhad already slapped on his hat andwas striding to the exit. John turnedto us, dazed, his enthusiasm vanishinglike air from a punctured balloon.     He wouldn't listen, he said,weakly. I tried to tell him, but hesaid he'd come back when I'msober. I'm sober now. So I quit.I've got to find my hole.     I patted him on the back. No,John, we'll help you. Don't quit.We'll—well, we'll help you.     We're working on a plan, too,said Fat Boy in a burst of inspiration.We're going to make a morescientific approach.     How? John asked.     Fat Boy gulped.     Just wait another day, I said.We'll have it worked out. Just bepatient another day. You can'tleave now, not after all your work.     No, I guess not, he sighed. I'llstay—until tomorrow.  <doc-sep>When Humphrey Fownes stepped out of the widow's house, there was alook of such intense abstraction on his features that Lanfierre felt awistful desire to get out of the car and walk along with the man. Itwould be such a      deliciously     insane experience. (April has thirtydays, Fownes mumbled, passing them, because thirty is the largestnumber such that all smaller numbers not having a common divisorwith it are      primes     . MacBride frowned and added it to the dossier.Lanfierre sighed.)     Pinning his hopes on the Movement, Fownes went straight to thelibrary several blocks away, a shattered depressing place given overto government publications and censored old books with holes inthem. It was used so infrequently that the Movement was able to meetthere undisturbed. The librarian was a yellowed, dog-eared woman ofeighty. She spent her days reading ancient library cards and, like thebooks around her, had been rendered by time's own censor into nearunintelligibility.     Here's one, she said to him as he entered.       Gulliver's Travels.     Loaned to John Wesley Davidson on March 14, 1979 for      five     days. Whatdo you make of it?     In the litter of books and cards and dried out ink pads that surroundedthe librarian, Fownes noticed a torn dust jacket with a curiousillustration. What's that? he said.     A twister, she replied quickly. Now listen to      this     . Seven yearslater on March 21, 1986, Ella Marshall Davidson took out the same book.What do you make of      that     ?     I'd say, Humphrey Fownes said, that he ... that he recommended itto her, that one day they met in the street and he told her aboutthis book and then they ... they went to the library together and sheborrowed it and eventually, why eventually they got married.     Hah! They were brother and sister! the librarian shouted in herparched voice, her old buckram eyes laughing with cunning.     Fownes smiled weakly and looked again at the dust jacket. The twisterwas unquestionably a meteorological phenomenon. It spun ominously, likea malevolent top, and coursed the countryside destructively, carryinga Dorothy to an Oz. He couldn't help wondering if twisters did anythingto feminine pulses, if they could possibly be a part of a moonlitnight, with cocktails and roses. He absently stuffed the dust jacketin his pocket and went on into the other rooms, the librarian mumblingafter him: Edna Murdoch Featherstone, April 21, 1991, as thoughreading inscriptions on a tombstone.  <doc-sep>The farn beast coughed. Another answered. They were very near, andthere was a noise of crackling underbrush.     He's good bait, Extrone said. He's fat enough and he knows how toscream good.     Ri had stopped screaming; he was huddled against the tree, fearfullyeying the forest across from the watering hole.     Extrone began to tremble with excitement. Here they come!     The forest sprang apart. Extrone bent forward, the gun still across hislap.     The farn beast, its tiny eyes red with hate, stepped out on the bank,swinging its head wildly, its nostrils flaring in anger. It coughed.Its mate appeared beside it. Their tails thrashed against the scrubsbehind them, rattling leaves.       Shoot! Lin hissed. For God's sake, shoot!     Wait, Extrone said. Let's see what they do. He had not movedthe rifle. He was tense, bent forward, his eyes slitted, his breathbeginning to sound like an asthmatic pump.     The lead farn beast sighted Ri. It lowered its head.     Look! Extrone cried excitedly. Here it comes!     Ri began to scream again.     Still Extrone did not lift his blast rifle. He was laughing. Linwaited, frozen, his eyes staring at the farn beast in fascination.     The farn beast plunged into the water, which was shallow, and, throwinga sheet of it to either side, headed across toward Ri.     Watch! Watch! Extrone cried gleefully.     And then the aliens sprang their trap.   <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What sparked John Smith's fascination with holes in The Holes and John Smith?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the connection between the band and The Goon in The Holes and John Smith? [SEP] <s>We played. Tune after tune.John knew them all, from thelatest pop melodies to a swing versionof the classic      Rhapsody of TheStars     . He was a quiet guy duringthe next couple of hours, and gettingmore than a few words fromhim seemed as hard as extracting atooth. He'd stand by his fiddle—Imean, his      Zloomph     —with a dreamyexpression in those watery eyes,staring at nothing.     But after one number he studiedFat Boy's clarinet for a moment.Nice clarinet, he mused. Has anunusual hole in the front.     Fat Boy scratched the back ofhis head. You—you mean here?Where the music comes out?     John Smith nodded. Unusual.     Hummm, I thought again.     Awhile later I caught him eyeingmy piano keyboard. What'sthe matter, John?     He pointed.     Oh, there, I said. A cigarettefell out of my ashtray, burnt a holein the key. If The Eye sees it, he'llswear at me in seven languages.     Even there, he said softly,even there....     There was no doubt about it.John Smith was peculiar, but hewas the best bass man this side of amusician's Nirvana.     It didn't take a genius to figureout our situation. Item one: Goon-Face'scountenance had evidencedan excellent imitation of Mephistophelesbefore John began to play.Item two: Goon-Face had beamedlike a kitten with a quart of creamafter John began to play.     Conclusion: If we wanted tokeep eating, we'd have to persuadeJohn Smith to join our combo.     At intermission I said, Howabout a drink, John? Maybe a shotof wine-syrup?     He shook his head.     Then maybe a Venusian fizz?     His grunt was negative.     Then some old-fashioned beer?     He smiled. Yes, I      like     beer.     I escorted him to the bar and assistedhim in his arduous climb ontoa stool.     John, I ventured after he'dtaken an experimental sip, wherehave you been hiding? A guy likeyou should be playing every night.     John yawned. Just got here. FiguredI might need some money soI went to the union. Then I workedon my plan.     Then you need a job. Howabout playing with us steady? Welike your style a lot.     He made a long, low hummingsound which I interpreted as anexpression of intense concentration.I don't know, he finally drawled.     It'd be a steady job, John. Inspirationstruck me. And listen, Ihave an apartment. It's got everything,solar shower, automatic chef,'copter landing—if we ever get a'copter. Plenty of room there fortwo people. You can stay with meand it won't cost you a cent. Andwe'll even pay you over unionwages.     His watery gaze wandered lazilyto the bar mirror, down to the glitteringarray of bottles and then outto the dance floor.     He yawned again and spokeslowly, as if each word were a leadenweight cast reluctantly from histongue:     No, I don't ... care much ...about playing.     What      do     you like to do, John?     His string-bean of a body stiffened.I like to study ancient history ...and I must work on myplan.     Oh Lord, that plan again!     I took a deep breath. Tell meabout it, John. It      must     be interesting.     He made queer clicking noiseswith his mouth that reminded meof a mechanical toy being woundinto motion. The whole foundationof this or any other culture isbased on the history of all the timedimensions, each interwoven withthe other, throughout the ages. Andthe holes provide a means of studyingall of it first hand.       Oh, oh     , I thought.      But you stillhave to eat. Remember, you stillhave to eat.       Trouble is, he went on, thereare so many holes in this universe.     Holes? I kept a straight face.     Certainly. Look around you. Allyou see is holes. These beer bottlesare just holes surrounded by glass.The doors and windows—they'reholes in walls. The mine tunnelsmake a network of holes under thedesert. Caves are holes, animals livein holes, our faces have holes,clothes have holes—millions andmillions of holes!     I winced and thought, humorhim because you gotta eat, yougotta eat.     His voice trembled with emotion.Why, they're everywhere. They'rein pots and pans, in pipes, in rocketjets, in bumpy roads. There are buttonholesand well holes, and shoelaceholes. There are doughnutholes and stocking holes and woodpeckerholes and cheese holes.Oceans lie in holes in the earth,and rivers and canals and valleys.The craters of the Moon are holes.Everything is—     But, John, I said as patiently aspossible, what have these holesgot to do with you?     He glowered at me as if I wereunworthy of such a confidence.What have they to do with me?he shrilled. I can't find the rightone—that's what!     I closed my eyes. Which particularhole are you looking for, John?     He was speaking rapidly againnow.     I was hurrying back to the Universitywith the      Zloomph     to provea point of ancient history to thosefools. They don't believe that instrumentswhich make music actuallyexisted before the tapes! Itwas dark—and some fool researcherhad forgotten to set a force-fieldover the hole—I fell through.     I closed my eyes. Now wait aminute. Did you drop something,lose it in the hole—is that why youhave to find it?     Oh I didn't lose anything important,he snapped,       just     my owntime dimension. And if I don't getback they will think I couldn't provemy theory, that I'm ashamed tocome back, and I'll be discredited.     His chest sagged for an instant.Then he straightened. But there'sstill time for my plan to work out—withthe relative difference takeninto account. Only I get so tiredjust thinking about it.     Yes, I can see where thinkingabout it would tire any one.     He nodded. But it can't be toofar away.     I'd like to hear more about it,I said. But if you're not going toplay with us—     Oh, I'll play with you, hebeamed. I can talk to      you     .      You     understand.     Thank heaven!  <doc-sep>        He was something out of a nightmare but his music was straightfrom heaven. He was a ragged little man out of a hole but hewas money in the bank to Stanley's four-piece combo. He was     —whoops!...       The Holes and John Smith     By Edward W. Ludwig       Illustration by Kelly Freas  <doc-sep>All night the thought creptthrough my brain like a teasingspider:      What can we do to makehim stay? What can we tell him?What, what, what?       Unable to sleep the next morning,I left John to his snoring andwent for an aspirin and black coffee.All the possible schemes weredrumming through my mind: findingan Earth blonde to captureJohn's interest, having him electro-hypnotized,breaking his leg, forginga letter from this mythical universitytelling him his theory wasproved valid and for him to takea nice long vacation now. He wasa screwball about holes and forcefields and dimensional worlds butfor that music of his I'd baby himthe rest of his life.     It was early afternoon when Itrudged back to my apartment.     John was squatting on the livingroom floor, surrounded by a forestof empty beer bottles. His eyes werebulging, his hair was even wilderthan usual, and he was swaying.     John! I cried. You're drunk!     His watery eyes squinted at me.No, not drunk. Just scared. I'mawful scared!     But you mustn't be scared. Thatreporter was just stupid. We'll helpyou with your theory.     His body trembled. No, it isn'tthat. It isn't the reporter.     Then what is it, John?     It's my body. It's—     Yes, what about your body?Are you sick?     His face was white with terror.No, my—      my body's full of holes     .Suppose it's one of those holes!How will I get back if it is?     He rose and staggered to his      Zloomph     , clutching it as though itwere somehow a source of strengthand consolation.     I patted him gingerly on the arm.Now John. You've just had toomuch beer, that's all. Let's go outand get some air and some strongblack coffee. C'mon now.     We staggered out into the morningdarkness, the three of us. John,the      Zloomph     , and I.     I was hanging on to him tryingto see around and over and evenunder the      Zloomph     —steering by asort of radar-like sixth sense. Thestreet lights on Marsport are prettydim compared to Earthside. Ididn't see the open manhole thatthe workmen had figured would beall right at that time of night. Itgets pretty damned cold around 4: A.M.of a Martian morning, and Iguess the men were warming upwith a little nip at the bar acrossthe street.     Then—he was gone.     John just slipped out of my grasp—      Zloomph     and all—and was gone—completelyand irrevocably gone.I even risked a broken neck andjumped in the manhole after him.Nothing—nothing but the smell ofozone and an echo bouncing crazilyoff the walls of the conduit.     —is it.—is it.—is it.—is it.     John Smith was gone, so utterlyand completely and tragically goneit was as if he'd never existed....  <doc-sep>Tonight is our last night at      TheSpace Room     . Goon-Face is scowlingagain with the icy fury of aPlutonian monsoon. As Goon-Facehas said, No beeg feedle, no contract.     Without John, we're notes in alost chord.     We've searched everything, inhospitals, morgues, jails, night clubs,hotels. We've hounded spaceportsand 'copter terminals. Nowhere, nowhereis John Smith.     Ziggy, whose two fingers havehealed, has already bowed to whatseems inevitable. He's signed up forthat trip to Neptune's uraniumpits. There's plenty of room formore volunteers, he tells us. But Ispend my time cussing the guy whoforgot to set the force field at theother end of the hole and let Johnand his      Zloomph     back into his owntime dimension. I cuss harder whenI think how we were robbed of thebest bass player in the galaxy.     And without a corpus delecti wecan't even sue the city.       ... THE END    <doc-sep>From the entrance of      TheSpace Room     came a thumpingand a grating and a banging. Suddenly,sweeping across the dancefloor like a cold wind, was a bassfiddle, an enormous black monstrosity,a refugee from a pawnbroker'sattic. It was queerly shaped. It wastoo tall, too wide. It was more likea monstrous, midnight-black hour-glassthan a bass.     The fiddle was not unaccompaniedas I'd first imagined. Behindit, streaking over the floor in awaltz of agony, was a little guy, ananimated matchstick with a flat,broad face that seemed to havebeen compressed in a vice. His sandcoloredmop of hair reminded meof a field of dry grass, the longstrands forming loops that flankedthe sides of his face.     His pale blue eyes were watery,like twin pools of fog. His tightfittingsuit, as black as the bass,was something off a park bench. Itwas impossible to guess his age. Hecould have been anywhere betweentwenty and forty.     The bass thumped down uponthe bandstand.     Hello, he puffed. I'm JohnSmith, from the Marsport union.He spoke shrilly and rapidly, as ifanxious to conclude the routine ofintroductions. I'm sorry I'm late,but I was working on my plan.     A moment's silence.     Your plan? I echoed at last.     How to get back home, hesnapped as if I should have knownit already.     Hummm, I thought.     My gaze turned to the dancefloor. Goon-Face had his eyes onus, and they were as cold as six Indiansgoing South.     We'll talk about your plan atintermission, I said, shivering.Now, we'd better start playing.John, do you know      On An AsteroidWith You     ?     I know      everything     , said JohnSmith.     I turned to my piano with ashudder. I didn't dare look at thathorrible fiddle again. I didn't darethink what kind of soul-chillingtones might emerge from its ancientdepths.     And I didn't dare look again atthe second monstrosity, the onenamed John Smith. I closed myeyes and plunged into a four-barintro.     Hammer-Head joined in onvibro-drums and Fat Boy on clarinet,and then—     My eyes burst open. A shivercoursed down my spine like giganticmice feet.     The tones that surged from thatmonstrous bass were ecstatic. Theywere out of a jazzman's Heaven.They were great rolling clouds thatseemed to envelop the entire universewith their vibrance. Theyheld a depth and a volume and arichness that were astounding, thatwere like no others I'd ever heard.     First they went      Boom-de-boom-de-boom-de-boom     ,and then,      boom-de-de-boom-de-de-boom-de-de-boom     ,just like the tones of all bassfiddles.     But there was something else, too.There were overtones, so that Johnwasn't just playing a single note,but a whole chord with each beat.And the fullness, the depth of thoseincredible chords actually set myblood tingling. I could      feel     thetingling just as one can feel the vibrationof a plucked guitar string.     I glanced at the cash customers.They looked like weary warriorsgetting their first glimpse of Valhalla.Gap-jawed and wide-eyed,they seemed in a kind of ecstatichypnosis. Even the silent, bland-facedMartians stopped sippingtheir wine-syrup and nodded theirdark heads in time with the rhythm.     I looked at The Eye. The transformationof his gaunt featureswas miraculous. Shadows of gloomdissolved and were replaced bya black-toothed, crescent-shapedsmile of delight. His eyes shone likethose of a kid seeing Santa Claus.     We finished      On An Asteroid WithYou     , modulated into      Sweet Sallyfrom Saturn     and finished with      Tighten Your Lips on Titan     .     We waited for the applause ofthe Earth people and the shrillingof the Martians to die down. ThenI turned to John and his fiddle.     If I didn't hear it, I gasped,I wouldn't believe it!     And the fiddle's so old, too!added Hammer-Head who, althoughsober, seemed quite drunk.     Old? said John Smith. Ofcourse it's old. It's over five thousandyears old. I was lucky to findit in a pawnshop. Only it's not afiddle but a      Zloomph     . This is theonly one in existence. He pattedthe thing tenderly. I tried the holein it but it isn't the right one.     I wondered what the hell he wastalking about. I studied the black,mirror-like wood. The aperture inthe vesonator was like that of anybass fiddle.     Isn't right for what? I had toask.     He turned his sad eyes to me.For going home, he said.     Hummm, I thought.  <doc-sep>Heaven lasted for just threedays. During those seventy-twogolden hours the melodious tinklingof The Eye's cash register was asconstant as that of Santa's sleighbells.     John became the hero of tourists,spacemen, and Martians, but neverthelesshe remained stubbornlyaloof. He was quiet, moody, playinghis      Zloomph     automatically. He'dreveal definite indications of belongingto Homo Sapiens only whendrinking beer and talking about hisholes.     Goon-Face was still cautious.     Contract? he wheezed. Maybe.We see. Eef feedleman stay, wehave contract. He stay, yes?     Oh, sure, I said. He'll stay—justas long as you want him.     Den he sign contract, too. Nobeeg feedle, no contract.     Sure. We'll get him to sign it.I laughed hollowly. Don't worry,Mr. Ke-teeli.     Just a few minutes later tragedystruck.     A reporter from the      MarsportTimes     ambled into interview theMan of The Hour. The interview,unfortunately, was conducted overthe bar and accompanied by a generousguzzling of beer. Fat Boy,Hammer-Head and I watchedfrom a table. Knowing John as wedid, a silent prayer was in our eyes.     This is the first time he's talkedto anybody, Fat Boy breathed.I—I'm scared.     Nothing can happen, I said,optimistically. This'll be good publicity.     We watched.     John murmured something. Thereporter, a paunchy, balding man,scribbled furiously in his notebook.     John yawned, muttered somethingelse. The reporter continuedto scribble.     John sipped beer. His eyesbrightened, and he began to talkmore rapidly.     The reporter frowned, stoppedwriting, and studied John curiously.     John finished his first beer,started on his second. His eyes werewild, and he was talking more andmore rapidly.     He's doing it, Hammer-Headgroaned. He's telling him!     I rose swiftly. We better getover there. We should have knownbetter—     We were too late. The reporterhad already slapped on his hat andwas striding to the exit. John turnedto us, dazed, his enthusiasm vanishinglike air from a punctured balloon.     He wouldn't listen, he said,weakly. I tried to tell him, but hesaid he'd come back when I'msober. I'm sober now. So I quit.I've got to find my hole.     I patted him on the back. No,John, we'll help you. Don't quit.We'll—well, we'll help you.     We're working on a plan, too,said Fat Boy in a burst of inspiration.We're going to make a morescientific approach.     How? John asked.     Fat Boy gulped.     Just wait another day, I said.We'll have it worked out. Just bepatient another day. You can'tleave now, not after all your work.     No, I guess not, he sighed. I'llstay—until tomorrow.  <doc-sep>At first he tried to push himself erect, his head whirling with sickdizziness, and bewilderment. Through a twisting haze, he peered up atthe girl's face. It reflected a look that, amazingly, was one of—withno other phrase to do—compassion. Star half-sighed, and laid his headon the girl's breast, and closed his eyes.     In a minute or two, she said tensely, Are you all right? Star lookedup at her.     I guess so. Here—give a hand while I get my balance. She held him ashe tried a step or two, and then he straightened. I guess I'll be allright, now, he smiled. My head feels like—say! How come you're doingthis? What made you change your mind? And who are you?     She said quickly, breathlessly, I know you're Star Blade, now. Thattransmission set.... I can read lips! I      knew     what that officer wassaying! It was just as if I had      heard     him say that ... that you wereStarrett Blade and that man out there is Devil Garrett! she made achoking sound. And I've been here, alone, for a month! For a month!     A month? Huh—please—you...?     Star took a breath, and started over. You.... Who      are     you? What areyou doing here?     She said, I'm Anne Hinton. My father is Old John Hinton. Have youheard of him?     Of course! said Star. He manufactures most of the equipment '      BladeCosmian     ' uses. Weapons, Hineson Sub-Spacers, Star-Traveler craft ...the ship I was in when Garrett brought me down was a Hinton craft. Ishould have recognized the name. But go on. What—     Garrett communicated with dad, secretly. He posed as StarrettBlade, as you, and told dad that he was developing certain new powerprocesses. And he is! He has a new—or maybe it isn't so new—way ofelectrolyzing water to liberate hydrogen and oxygen.     I think I understand, said Star quickly. When the oxygen andhydrogen are allowed to combine, and produce an explosion which drivea turbine-generator. Then that could be hitched up to a cyclotron, andeven the most barren of Alpha's lake-rock planets could be....     No, she shook her head puzzledly. It's just electric power. He saidthat atomics would release stray rays that would attract pirates.     I know, Star nodded, abstractedly. I was thinking of anotherapplication of it ... hmm. But say! What was Garrett after? I know thathe wouldn't do this just to get a secret process sold. He must have hadanother plan behind it. Got any idea?     Anne shook her head slowly. I don't know. I can't see....     Perhaps I could help you? Devil Garrett asked smoothly from the door.     Star whirled, thrust Anne behind him, but there was no way out. Garrettstood in the door, and there were men behind him. The jet in his handcould kill both of the two at one shot. And they had no weapons toresist with.     Devil Garrett stepped them out of the room, and down the corridor,through a large door Star had noticed at the end of the passage, andinto a huge room.     It must have been a thousand feet long, and half that wide. It was atleast a hundred yards deep. And it was almost filled with giganticmachines.     Between the machinery, the spaces were almost filled with steel laddersand cat-walks. Crews of men swarmed over them. It was the largest massof equipment Starrett had ever seen.     His eyes began to pick out details. Those huge vat-like things downat the far end, with the large cables running into them, and themighty pumps connected to them ... they were probably the electrolysischambers.     And those great pipes, they must carry the hydrogen and oxygen fromthe electro chambers to the large replicas of engines, which could benothing else but the explosion chambers, where the gases were allowedto re-unite, and explode. And there by the giant engines, those must beturbines, which in turn connected with the vast-sized generators justunder the platforms on which they stood.  <doc-sep>When Humphrey Fownes stepped out of the widow's house, there was alook of such intense abstraction on his features that Lanfierre felt awistful desire to get out of the car and walk along with the man. Itwould be such a      deliciously     insane experience. (April has thirtydays, Fownes mumbled, passing them, because thirty is the largestnumber such that all smaller numbers not having a common divisorwith it are      primes     . MacBride frowned and added it to the dossier.Lanfierre sighed.)     Pinning his hopes on the Movement, Fownes went straight to thelibrary several blocks away, a shattered depressing place given overto government publications and censored old books with holes inthem. It was used so infrequently that the Movement was able to meetthere undisturbed. The librarian was a yellowed, dog-eared woman ofeighty. She spent her days reading ancient library cards and, like thebooks around her, had been rendered by time's own censor into nearunintelligibility.     Here's one, she said to him as he entered.       Gulliver's Travels.     Loaned to John Wesley Davidson on March 14, 1979 for      five     days. Whatdo you make of it?     In the litter of books and cards and dried out ink pads that surroundedthe librarian, Fownes noticed a torn dust jacket with a curiousillustration. What's that? he said.     A twister, she replied quickly. Now listen to      this     . Seven yearslater on March 21, 1986, Ella Marshall Davidson took out the same book.What do you make of      that     ?     I'd say, Humphrey Fownes said, that he ... that he recommended itto her, that one day they met in the street and he told her aboutthis book and then they ... they went to the library together and sheborrowed it and eventually, why eventually they got married.     Hah! They were brother and sister! the librarian shouted in herparched voice, her old buckram eyes laughing with cunning.     Fownes smiled weakly and looked again at the dust jacket. The twisterwas unquestionably a meteorological phenomenon. It spun ominously, likea malevolent top, and coursed the countryside destructively, carryinga Dorothy to an Oz. He couldn't help wondering if twisters did anythingto feminine pulses, if they could possibly be a part of a moonlitnight, with cocktails and roses. He absently stuffed the dust jacketin his pocket and went on into the other rooms, the librarian mumblingafter him: Edna Murdoch Featherstone, April 21, 1991, as thoughreading inscriptions on a tombstone.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the connection between the band and The Goon in The Holes and John Smith?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the significance of John's continued involvement in the band for Jimmie, as depicted in The Holes and John Smith? [SEP] <s>We played. Tune after tune.John knew them all, from thelatest pop melodies to a swing versionof the classic      Rhapsody of TheStars     . He was a quiet guy duringthe next couple of hours, and gettingmore than a few words fromhim seemed as hard as extracting atooth. He'd stand by his fiddle—Imean, his      Zloomph     —with a dreamyexpression in those watery eyes,staring at nothing.     But after one number he studiedFat Boy's clarinet for a moment.Nice clarinet, he mused. Has anunusual hole in the front.     Fat Boy scratched the back ofhis head. You—you mean here?Where the music comes out?     John Smith nodded. Unusual.     Hummm, I thought again.     Awhile later I caught him eyeingmy piano keyboard. What'sthe matter, John?     He pointed.     Oh, there, I said. A cigarettefell out of my ashtray, burnt a holein the key. If The Eye sees it, he'llswear at me in seven languages.     Even there, he said softly,even there....     There was no doubt about it.John Smith was peculiar, but hewas the best bass man this side of amusician's Nirvana.     It didn't take a genius to figureout our situation. Item one: Goon-Face'scountenance had evidencedan excellent imitation of Mephistophelesbefore John began to play.Item two: Goon-Face had beamedlike a kitten with a quart of creamafter John began to play.     Conclusion: If we wanted tokeep eating, we'd have to persuadeJohn Smith to join our combo.     At intermission I said, Howabout a drink, John? Maybe a shotof wine-syrup?     He shook his head.     Then maybe a Venusian fizz?     His grunt was negative.     Then some old-fashioned beer?     He smiled. Yes, I      like     beer.     I escorted him to the bar and assistedhim in his arduous climb ontoa stool.     John, I ventured after he'dtaken an experimental sip, wherehave you been hiding? A guy likeyou should be playing every night.     John yawned. Just got here. FiguredI might need some money soI went to the union. Then I workedon my plan.     Then you need a job. Howabout playing with us steady? Welike your style a lot.     He made a long, low hummingsound which I interpreted as anexpression of intense concentration.I don't know, he finally drawled.     It'd be a steady job, John. Inspirationstruck me. And listen, Ihave an apartment. It's got everything,solar shower, automatic chef,'copter landing—if we ever get a'copter. Plenty of room there fortwo people. You can stay with meand it won't cost you a cent. Andwe'll even pay you over unionwages.     His watery gaze wandered lazilyto the bar mirror, down to the glitteringarray of bottles and then outto the dance floor.     He yawned again and spokeslowly, as if each word were a leadenweight cast reluctantly from histongue:     No, I don't ... care much ...about playing.     What      do     you like to do, John?     His string-bean of a body stiffened.I like to study ancient history ...and I must work on myplan.     Oh Lord, that plan again!     I took a deep breath. Tell meabout it, John. It      must     be interesting.     He made queer clicking noiseswith his mouth that reminded meof a mechanical toy being woundinto motion. The whole foundationof this or any other culture isbased on the history of all the timedimensions, each interwoven withthe other, throughout the ages. Andthe holes provide a means of studyingall of it first hand.       Oh, oh     , I thought.      But you stillhave to eat. Remember, you stillhave to eat.       Trouble is, he went on, thereare so many holes in this universe.     Holes? I kept a straight face.     Certainly. Look around you. Allyou see is holes. These beer bottlesare just holes surrounded by glass.The doors and windows—they'reholes in walls. The mine tunnelsmake a network of holes under thedesert. Caves are holes, animals livein holes, our faces have holes,clothes have holes—millions andmillions of holes!     I winced and thought, humorhim because you gotta eat, yougotta eat.     His voice trembled with emotion.Why, they're everywhere. They'rein pots and pans, in pipes, in rocketjets, in bumpy roads. There are buttonholesand well holes, and shoelaceholes. There are doughnutholes and stocking holes and woodpeckerholes and cheese holes.Oceans lie in holes in the earth,and rivers and canals and valleys.The craters of the Moon are holes.Everything is—     But, John, I said as patiently aspossible, what have these holesgot to do with you?     He glowered at me as if I wereunworthy of such a confidence.What have they to do with me?he shrilled. I can't find the rightone—that's what!     I closed my eyes. Which particularhole are you looking for, John?     He was speaking rapidly againnow.     I was hurrying back to the Universitywith the      Zloomph     to provea point of ancient history to thosefools. They don't believe that instrumentswhich make music actuallyexisted before the tapes! Itwas dark—and some fool researcherhad forgotten to set a force-fieldover the hole—I fell through.     I closed my eyes. Now wait aminute. Did you drop something,lose it in the hole—is that why youhave to find it?     Oh I didn't lose anything important,he snapped,       just     my owntime dimension. And if I don't getback they will think I couldn't provemy theory, that I'm ashamed tocome back, and I'll be discredited.     His chest sagged for an instant.Then he straightened. But there'sstill time for my plan to work out—withthe relative difference takeninto account. Only I get so tiredjust thinking about it.     Yes, I can see where thinkingabout it would tire any one.     He nodded. But it can't be toofar away.     I'd like to hear more about it,I said. But if you're not going toplay with us—     Oh, I'll play with you, hebeamed. I can talk to      you     .      You     understand.     Thank heaven!  <doc-sep>All night the thought creptthrough my brain like a teasingspider:      What can we do to makehim stay? What can we tell him?What, what, what?       Unable to sleep the next morning,I left John to his snoring andwent for an aspirin and black coffee.All the possible schemes weredrumming through my mind: findingan Earth blonde to captureJohn's interest, having him electro-hypnotized,breaking his leg, forginga letter from this mythical universitytelling him his theory wasproved valid and for him to takea nice long vacation now. He wasa screwball about holes and forcefields and dimensional worlds butfor that music of his I'd baby himthe rest of his life.     It was early afternoon when Itrudged back to my apartment.     John was squatting on the livingroom floor, surrounded by a forestof empty beer bottles. His eyes werebulging, his hair was even wilderthan usual, and he was swaying.     John! I cried. You're drunk!     His watery eyes squinted at me.No, not drunk. Just scared. I'mawful scared!     But you mustn't be scared. Thatreporter was just stupid. We'll helpyou with your theory.     His body trembled. No, it isn'tthat. It isn't the reporter.     Then what is it, John?     It's my body. It's—     Yes, what about your body?Are you sick?     His face was white with terror.No, my—      my body's full of holes     .Suppose it's one of those holes!How will I get back if it is?     He rose and staggered to his      Zloomph     , clutching it as though itwere somehow a source of strengthand consolation.     I patted him gingerly on the arm.Now John. You've just had toomuch beer, that's all. Let's go outand get some air and some strongblack coffee. C'mon now.     We staggered out into the morningdarkness, the three of us. John,the      Zloomph     , and I.     I was hanging on to him tryingto see around and over and evenunder the      Zloomph     —steering by asort of radar-like sixth sense. Thestreet lights on Marsport are prettydim compared to Earthside. Ididn't see the open manhole thatthe workmen had figured would beall right at that time of night. Itgets pretty damned cold around 4: A.M.of a Martian morning, and Iguess the men were warming upwith a little nip at the bar acrossthe street.     Then—he was gone.     John just slipped out of my grasp—      Zloomph     and all—and was gone—completelyand irrevocably gone.I even risked a broken neck andjumped in the manhole after him.Nothing—nothing but the smell ofozone and an echo bouncing crazilyoff the walls of the conduit.     —is it.—is it.—is it.—is it.     John Smith was gone, so utterlyand completely and tragically goneit was as if he'd never existed....  <doc-sep>        He was something out of a nightmare but his music was straightfrom heaven. He was a ragged little man out of a hole but hewas money in the bank to Stanley's four-piece combo. He was     —whoops!...       The Holes and John Smith     By Edward W. Ludwig       Illustration by Kelly Freas  <doc-sep>Tonight is our last night at      TheSpace Room     . Goon-Face is scowlingagain with the icy fury of aPlutonian monsoon. As Goon-Facehas said, No beeg feedle, no contract.     Without John, we're notes in alost chord.     We've searched everything, inhospitals, morgues, jails, night clubs,hotels. We've hounded spaceportsand 'copter terminals. Nowhere, nowhereis John Smith.     Ziggy, whose two fingers havehealed, has already bowed to whatseems inevitable. He's signed up forthat trip to Neptune's uraniumpits. There's plenty of room formore volunteers, he tells us. But Ispend my time cussing the guy whoforgot to set the force field at theother end of the hole and let Johnand his      Zloomph     back into his owntime dimension. I cuss harder whenI think how we were robbed of thebest bass player in the galaxy.     And without a corpus delecti wecan't even sue the city.       ... THE END    <doc-sep>From the entrance of      TheSpace Room     came a thumpingand a grating and a banging. Suddenly,sweeping across the dancefloor like a cold wind, was a bassfiddle, an enormous black monstrosity,a refugee from a pawnbroker'sattic. It was queerly shaped. It wastoo tall, too wide. It was more likea monstrous, midnight-black hour-glassthan a bass.     The fiddle was not unaccompaniedas I'd first imagined. Behindit, streaking over the floor in awaltz of agony, was a little guy, ananimated matchstick with a flat,broad face that seemed to havebeen compressed in a vice. His sandcoloredmop of hair reminded meof a field of dry grass, the longstrands forming loops that flankedthe sides of his face.     His pale blue eyes were watery,like twin pools of fog. His tightfittingsuit, as black as the bass,was something off a park bench. Itwas impossible to guess his age. Hecould have been anywhere betweentwenty and forty.     The bass thumped down uponthe bandstand.     Hello, he puffed. I'm JohnSmith, from the Marsport union.He spoke shrilly and rapidly, as ifanxious to conclude the routine ofintroductions. I'm sorry I'm late,but I was working on my plan.     A moment's silence.     Your plan? I echoed at last.     How to get back home, hesnapped as if I should have knownit already.     Hummm, I thought.     My gaze turned to the dancefloor. Goon-Face had his eyes onus, and they were as cold as six Indiansgoing South.     We'll talk about your plan atintermission, I said, shivering.Now, we'd better start playing.John, do you know      On An AsteroidWith You     ?     I know      everything     , said JohnSmith.     I turned to my piano with ashudder. I didn't dare look at thathorrible fiddle again. I didn't darethink what kind of soul-chillingtones might emerge from its ancientdepths.     And I didn't dare look again atthe second monstrosity, the onenamed John Smith. I closed myeyes and plunged into a four-barintro.     Hammer-Head joined in onvibro-drums and Fat Boy on clarinet,and then—     My eyes burst open. A shivercoursed down my spine like giganticmice feet.     The tones that surged from thatmonstrous bass were ecstatic. Theywere out of a jazzman's Heaven.They were great rolling clouds thatseemed to envelop the entire universewith their vibrance. Theyheld a depth and a volume and arichness that were astounding, thatwere like no others I'd ever heard.     First they went      Boom-de-boom-de-boom-de-boom     ,and then,      boom-de-de-boom-de-de-boom-de-de-boom     ,just like the tones of all bassfiddles.     But there was something else, too.There were overtones, so that Johnwasn't just playing a single note,but a whole chord with each beat.And the fullness, the depth of thoseincredible chords actually set myblood tingling. I could      feel     thetingling just as one can feel the vibrationof a plucked guitar string.     I glanced at the cash customers.They looked like weary warriorsgetting their first glimpse of Valhalla.Gap-jawed and wide-eyed,they seemed in a kind of ecstatichypnosis. Even the silent, bland-facedMartians stopped sippingtheir wine-syrup and nodded theirdark heads in time with the rhythm.     I looked at The Eye. The transformationof his gaunt featureswas miraculous. Shadows of gloomdissolved and were replaced bya black-toothed, crescent-shapedsmile of delight. His eyes shone likethose of a kid seeing Santa Claus.     We finished      On An Asteroid WithYou     , modulated into      Sweet Sallyfrom Saturn     and finished with      Tighten Your Lips on Titan     .     We waited for the applause ofthe Earth people and the shrillingof the Martians to die down. ThenI turned to John and his fiddle.     If I didn't hear it, I gasped,I wouldn't believe it!     And the fiddle's so old, too!added Hammer-Head who, althoughsober, seemed quite drunk.     Old? said John Smith. Ofcourse it's old. It's over five thousandyears old. I was lucky to findit in a pawnshop. Only it's not afiddle but a      Zloomph     . This is theonly one in existence. He pattedthe thing tenderly. I tried the holein it but it isn't the right one.     I wondered what the hell he wastalking about. I studied the black,mirror-like wood. The aperture inthe vesonator was like that of anybass fiddle.     Isn't right for what? I had toask.     He turned his sad eyes to me.For going home, he said.     Hummm, I thought.  <doc-sep>Heaven lasted for just threedays. During those seventy-twogolden hours the melodious tinklingof The Eye's cash register was asconstant as that of Santa's sleighbells.     John became the hero of tourists,spacemen, and Martians, but neverthelesshe remained stubbornlyaloof. He was quiet, moody, playinghis      Zloomph     automatically. He'dreveal definite indications of belongingto Homo Sapiens only whendrinking beer and talking about hisholes.     Goon-Face was still cautious.     Contract? he wheezed. Maybe.We see. Eef feedleman stay, wehave contract. He stay, yes?     Oh, sure, I said. He'll stay—justas long as you want him.     Den he sign contract, too. Nobeeg feedle, no contract.     Sure. We'll get him to sign it.I laughed hollowly. Don't worry,Mr. Ke-teeli.     Just a few minutes later tragedystruck.     A reporter from the      MarsportTimes     ambled into interview theMan of The Hour. The interview,unfortunately, was conducted overthe bar and accompanied by a generousguzzling of beer. Fat Boy,Hammer-Head and I watchedfrom a table. Knowing John as wedid, a silent prayer was in our eyes.     This is the first time he's talkedto anybody, Fat Boy breathed.I—I'm scared.     Nothing can happen, I said,optimistically. This'll be good publicity.     We watched.     John murmured something. Thereporter, a paunchy, balding man,scribbled furiously in his notebook.     John yawned, muttered somethingelse. The reporter continuedto scribble.     John sipped beer. His eyesbrightened, and he began to talkmore rapidly.     The reporter frowned, stoppedwriting, and studied John curiously.     John finished his first beer,started on his second. His eyes werewild, and he was talking more andmore rapidly.     He's doing it, Hammer-Headgroaned. He's telling him!     I rose swiftly. We better getover there. We should have knownbetter—     We were too late. The reporterhad already slapped on his hat andwas striding to the exit. John turnedto us, dazed, his enthusiasm vanishinglike air from a punctured balloon.     He wouldn't listen, he said,weakly. I tried to tell him, but hesaid he'd come back when I'msober. I'm sober now. So I quit.I've got to find my hole.     I patted him on the back. No,John, we'll help you. Don't quit.We'll—well, we'll help you.     We're working on a plan, too,said Fat Boy in a burst of inspiration.We're going to make a morescientific approach.     How? John asked.     Fat Boy gulped.     Just wait another day, I said.We'll have it worked out. Just bepatient another day. You can'tleave now, not after all your work.     No, I guess not, he sighed. I'llstay—until tomorrow.  <doc-sep>When Humphrey Fownes stepped out of the widow's house, there was alook of such intense abstraction on his features that Lanfierre felt awistful desire to get out of the car and walk along with the man. Itwould be such a      deliciously     insane experience. (April has thirtydays, Fownes mumbled, passing them, because thirty is the largestnumber such that all smaller numbers not having a common divisorwith it are      primes     . MacBride frowned and added it to the dossier.Lanfierre sighed.)     Pinning his hopes on the Movement, Fownes went straight to thelibrary several blocks away, a shattered depressing place given overto government publications and censored old books with holes inthem. It was used so infrequently that the Movement was able to meetthere undisturbed. The librarian was a yellowed, dog-eared woman ofeighty. She spent her days reading ancient library cards and, like thebooks around her, had been rendered by time's own censor into nearunintelligibility.     Here's one, she said to him as he entered.       Gulliver's Travels.     Loaned to John Wesley Davidson on March 14, 1979 for      five     days. Whatdo you make of it?     In the litter of books and cards and dried out ink pads that surroundedthe librarian, Fownes noticed a torn dust jacket with a curiousillustration. What's that? he said.     A twister, she replied quickly. Now listen to      this     . Seven yearslater on March 21, 1986, Ella Marshall Davidson took out the same book.What do you make of      that     ?     I'd say, Humphrey Fownes said, that he ... that he recommended itto her, that one day they met in the street and he told her aboutthis book and then they ... they went to the library together and sheborrowed it and eventually, why eventually they got married.     Hah! They were brother and sister! the librarian shouted in herparched voice, her old buckram eyes laughing with cunning.     Fownes smiled weakly and looked again at the dust jacket. The twisterwas unquestionably a meteorological phenomenon. It spun ominously, likea malevolent top, and coursed the countryside destructively, carryinga Dorothy to an Oz. He couldn't help wondering if twisters did anythingto feminine pulses, if they could possibly be a part of a moonlitnight, with cocktails and roses. He absently stuffed the dust jacketin his pocket and went on into the other rooms, the librarian mumblingafter him: Edna Murdoch Featherstone, April 21, 1991, as thoughreading inscriptions on a tombstone.  <doc-sep>Tremaine left the hotel, walked two blocks west along Commerce Streetand turned in at a yellow brick building with the words ELSBYMUNICIPAL POLICE cut in the stone lintel above the door. Inside, aheavy man with a creased face and thick gray hair looked up from behindan ancient Underwood. He studied Tremaine, shifted a toothpick to theopposite corner of his mouth.     Don't I know you, mister? he said. His soft voice carried a note ofauthority.     Tremaine took off his hat. Sure you do, Jess. It's been a while,though.     The policeman got to his feet. Jimmy, he said, Jimmy Tremaine. Hecame to the counter and put out his hand. How are you, Jimmy? Whatbrings you back to the boondocks?     Let's go somewhere and sit down, Jess.     In a back room Tremaine said, To everybody but you this is just avisit to the old home town. Between us, there's more.     Jess nodded. I heard you were with the guv'ment.     It won't take long to tell; we don't know much yet. Tremaine coveredthe discovery of the powerful unidentified interference on thehigh-security hyperwave band, the discovery that each transmissionproduced not one but a pattern of fixes on the point of origin. Hepassed a sheet of paper across the table. It showed a set of concentriccircles, overlapped by a similar group of rings.     I think what we're getting is an echo effect from each of thesepoints of intersection. The rings themselves represent the diffractionpattern—     Hold it, Jimmy. To me it just looks like a beer ad. I'll take yourword for it.     The point is this, Jess: we think we've got it narrowed down to thissection. I'm not sure of a damn thing, but I think that transmitter'snear here. Now, have you got any ideas?     That's a tough one, Jimmy. This is where I should come up with thenews that Old Man Whatchamacallit's got an attic full of gear he saysis a time machine. Trouble is, folks around here haven't even takento TV. They figure we should be content with radio, like the Lordintended.     I didn't expect any easy answers, Jess. But I was hoping maybe you hadsomething ...     Course, said Jess, there's always Mr. Bram ...     Mr. Bram, repeated Tremaine. Is he still around? I remember him as ahundred years old when I was kid.     Still just the same, Jimmy. Comes in town maybe once a week, buys hisgroceries and hikes back out to his place by the river.     Well, what about him?     Nothing. But he's the town's mystery man. You know that. A littletouched in the head.     There were a lot of funny stories about him, I remember, Tremainesaid. I always liked him. One time he tried to teach me somethingI've forgotten. Wanted me to come out to his place and he'd teach me.I never did go. We kids used to play in the caves near his place, andsometimes he gave us apples.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the significance of John's continued involvement in the band for Jimmie, as depicted in The Holes and John Smith?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What can you tell me about John Smith and the musical instrument he plays, as mentioned in The Holes? [SEP] <s>We played. Tune after tune.John knew them all, from thelatest pop melodies to a swing versionof the classic      Rhapsody of TheStars     . He was a quiet guy duringthe next couple of hours, and gettingmore than a few words fromhim seemed as hard as extracting atooth. He'd stand by his fiddle—Imean, his      Zloomph     —with a dreamyexpression in those watery eyes,staring at nothing.     But after one number he studiedFat Boy's clarinet for a moment.Nice clarinet, he mused. Has anunusual hole in the front.     Fat Boy scratched the back ofhis head. You—you mean here?Where the music comes out?     John Smith nodded. Unusual.     Hummm, I thought again.     Awhile later I caught him eyeingmy piano keyboard. What'sthe matter, John?     He pointed.     Oh, there, I said. A cigarettefell out of my ashtray, burnt a holein the key. If The Eye sees it, he'llswear at me in seven languages.     Even there, he said softly,even there....     There was no doubt about it.John Smith was peculiar, but hewas the best bass man this side of amusician's Nirvana.     It didn't take a genius to figureout our situation. Item one: Goon-Face'scountenance had evidencedan excellent imitation of Mephistophelesbefore John began to play.Item two: Goon-Face had beamedlike a kitten with a quart of creamafter John began to play.     Conclusion: If we wanted tokeep eating, we'd have to persuadeJohn Smith to join our combo.     At intermission I said, Howabout a drink, John? Maybe a shotof wine-syrup?     He shook his head.     Then maybe a Venusian fizz?     His grunt was negative.     Then some old-fashioned beer?     He smiled. Yes, I      like     beer.     I escorted him to the bar and assistedhim in his arduous climb ontoa stool.     John, I ventured after he'dtaken an experimental sip, wherehave you been hiding? A guy likeyou should be playing every night.     John yawned. Just got here. FiguredI might need some money soI went to the union. Then I workedon my plan.     Then you need a job. Howabout playing with us steady? Welike your style a lot.     He made a long, low hummingsound which I interpreted as anexpression of intense concentration.I don't know, he finally drawled.     It'd be a steady job, John. Inspirationstruck me. And listen, Ihave an apartment. It's got everything,solar shower, automatic chef,'copter landing—if we ever get a'copter. Plenty of room there fortwo people. You can stay with meand it won't cost you a cent. Andwe'll even pay you over unionwages.     His watery gaze wandered lazilyto the bar mirror, down to the glitteringarray of bottles and then outto the dance floor.     He yawned again and spokeslowly, as if each word were a leadenweight cast reluctantly from histongue:     No, I don't ... care much ...about playing.     What      do     you like to do, John?     His string-bean of a body stiffened.I like to study ancient history ...and I must work on myplan.     Oh Lord, that plan again!     I took a deep breath. Tell meabout it, John. It      must     be interesting.     He made queer clicking noiseswith his mouth that reminded meof a mechanical toy being woundinto motion. The whole foundationof this or any other culture isbased on the history of all the timedimensions, each interwoven withthe other, throughout the ages. Andthe holes provide a means of studyingall of it first hand.       Oh, oh     , I thought.      But you stillhave to eat. Remember, you stillhave to eat.       Trouble is, he went on, thereare so many holes in this universe.     Holes? I kept a straight face.     Certainly. Look around you. Allyou see is holes. These beer bottlesare just holes surrounded by glass.The doors and windows—they'reholes in walls. The mine tunnelsmake a network of holes under thedesert. Caves are holes, animals livein holes, our faces have holes,clothes have holes—millions andmillions of holes!     I winced and thought, humorhim because you gotta eat, yougotta eat.     His voice trembled with emotion.Why, they're everywhere. They'rein pots and pans, in pipes, in rocketjets, in bumpy roads. There are buttonholesand well holes, and shoelaceholes. There are doughnutholes and stocking holes and woodpeckerholes and cheese holes.Oceans lie in holes in the earth,and rivers and canals and valleys.The craters of the Moon are holes.Everything is—     But, John, I said as patiently aspossible, what have these holesgot to do with you?     He glowered at me as if I wereunworthy of such a confidence.What have they to do with me?he shrilled. I can't find the rightone—that's what!     I closed my eyes. Which particularhole are you looking for, John?     He was speaking rapidly againnow.     I was hurrying back to the Universitywith the      Zloomph     to provea point of ancient history to thosefools. They don't believe that instrumentswhich make music actuallyexisted before the tapes! Itwas dark—and some fool researcherhad forgotten to set a force-fieldover the hole—I fell through.     I closed my eyes. Now wait aminute. Did you drop something,lose it in the hole—is that why youhave to find it?     Oh I didn't lose anything important,he snapped,       just     my owntime dimension. And if I don't getback they will think I couldn't provemy theory, that I'm ashamed tocome back, and I'll be discredited.     His chest sagged for an instant.Then he straightened. But there'sstill time for my plan to work out—withthe relative difference takeninto account. Only I get so tiredjust thinking about it.     Yes, I can see where thinkingabout it would tire any one.     He nodded. But it can't be toofar away.     I'd like to hear more about it,I said. But if you're not going toplay with us—     Oh, I'll play with you, hebeamed. I can talk to      you     .      You     understand.     Thank heaven!  <doc-sep>        He was something out of a nightmare but his music was straightfrom heaven. He was a ragged little man out of a hole but hewas money in the bank to Stanley's four-piece combo. He was     —whoops!...       The Holes and John Smith     By Edward W. Ludwig       Illustration by Kelly Freas  <doc-sep>All night the thought creptthrough my brain like a teasingspider:      What can we do to makehim stay? What can we tell him?What, what, what?       Unable to sleep the next morning,I left John to his snoring andwent for an aspirin and black coffee.All the possible schemes weredrumming through my mind: findingan Earth blonde to captureJohn's interest, having him electro-hypnotized,breaking his leg, forginga letter from this mythical universitytelling him his theory wasproved valid and for him to takea nice long vacation now. He wasa screwball about holes and forcefields and dimensional worlds butfor that music of his I'd baby himthe rest of his life.     It was early afternoon when Itrudged back to my apartment.     John was squatting on the livingroom floor, surrounded by a forestof empty beer bottles. His eyes werebulging, his hair was even wilderthan usual, and he was swaying.     John! I cried. You're drunk!     His watery eyes squinted at me.No, not drunk. Just scared. I'mawful scared!     But you mustn't be scared. Thatreporter was just stupid. We'll helpyou with your theory.     His body trembled. No, it isn'tthat. It isn't the reporter.     Then what is it, John?     It's my body. It's—     Yes, what about your body?Are you sick?     His face was white with terror.No, my—      my body's full of holes     .Suppose it's one of those holes!How will I get back if it is?     He rose and staggered to his      Zloomph     , clutching it as though itwere somehow a source of strengthand consolation.     I patted him gingerly on the arm.Now John. You've just had toomuch beer, that's all. Let's go outand get some air and some strongblack coffee. C'mon now.     We staggered out into the morningdarkness, the three of us. John,the      Zloomph     , and I.     I was hanging on to him tryingto see around and over and evenunder the      Zloomph     —steering by asort of radar-like sixth sense. Thestreet lights on Marsport are prettydim compared to Earthside. Ididn't see the open manhole thatthe workmen had figured would beall right at that time of night. Itgets pretty damned cold around 4: A.M.of a Martian morning, and Iguess the men were warming upwith a little nip at the bar acrossthe street.     Then—he was gone.     John just slipped out of my grasp—      Zloomph     and all—and was gone—completelyand irrevocably gone.I even risked a broken neck andjumped in the manhole after him.Nothing—nothing but the smell ofozone and an echo bouncing crazilyoff the walls of the conduit.     —is it.—is it.—is it.—is it.     John Smith was gone, so utterlyand completely and tragically goneit was as if he'd never existed....  <doc-sep>From the entrance of      TheSpace Room     came a thumpingand a grating and a banging. Suddenly,sweeping across the dancefloor like a cold wind, was a bassfiddle, an enormous black monstrosity,a refugee from a pawnbroker'sattic. It was queerly shaped. It wastoo tall, too wide. It was more likea monstrous, midnight-black hour-glassthan a bass.     The fiddle was not unaccompaniedas I'd first imagined. Behindit, streaking over the floor in awaltz of agony, was a little guy, ananimated matchstick with a flat,broad face that seemed to havebeen compressed in a vice. His sandcoloredmop of hair reminded meof a field of dry grass, the longstrands forming loops that flankedthe sides of his face.     His pale blue eyes were watery,like twin pools of fog. His tightfittingsuit, as black as the bass,was something off a park bench. Itwas impossible to guess his age. Hecould have been anywhere betweentwenty and forty.     The bass thumped down uponthe bandstand.     Hello, he puffed. I'm JohnSmith, from the Marsport union.He spoke shrilly and rapidly, as ifanxious to conclude the routine ofintroductions. I'm sorry I'm late,but I was working on my plan.     A moment's silence.     Your plan? I echoed at last.     How to get back home, hesnapped as if I should have knownit already.     Hummm, I thought.     My gaze turned to the dancefloor. Goon-Face had his eyes onus, and they were as cold as six Indiansgoing South.     We'll talk about your plan atintermission, I said, shivering.Now, we'd better start playing.John, do you know      On An AsteroidWith You     ?     I know      everything     , said JohnSmith.     I turned to my piano with ashudder. I didn't dare look at thathorrible fiddle again. I didn't darethink what kind of soul-chillingtones might emerge from its ancientdepths.     And I didn't dare look again atthe second monstrosity, the onenamed John Smith. I closed myeyes and plunged into a four-barintro.     Hammer-Head joined in onvibro-drums and Fat Boy on clarinet,and then—     My eyes burst open. A shivercoursed down my spine like giganticmice feet.     The tones that surged from thatmonstrous bass were ecstatic. Theywere out of a jazzman's Heaven.They were great rolling clouds thatseemed to envelop the entire universewith their vibrance. Theyheld a depth and a volume and arichness that were astounding, thatwere like no others I'd ever heard.     First they went      Boom-de-boom-de-boom-de-boom     ,and then,      boom-de-de-boom-de-de-boom-de-de-boom     ,just like the tones of all bassfiddles.     But there was something else, too.There were overtones, so that Johnwasn't just playing a single note,but a whole chord with each beat.And the fullness, the depth of thoseincredible chords actually set myblood tingling. I could      feel     thetingling just as one can feel the vibrationof a plucked guitar string.     I glanced at the cash customers.They looked like weary warriorsgetting their first glimpse of Valhalla.Gap-jawed and wide-eyed,they seemed in a kind of ecstatichypnosis. Even the silent, bland-facedMartians stopped sippingtheir wine-syrup and nodded theirdark heads in time with the rhythm.     I looked at The Eye. The transformationof his gaunt featureswas miraculous. Shadows of gloomdissolved and were replaced bya black-toothed, crescent-shapedsmile of delight. His eyes shone likethose of a kid seeing Santa Claus.     We finished      On An Asteroid WithYou     , modulated into      Sweet Sallyfrom Saturn     and finished with      Tighten Your Lips on Titan     .     We waited for the applause ofthe Earth people and the shrillingof the Martians to die down. ThenI turned to John and his fiddle.     If I didn't hear it, I gasped,I wouldn't believe it!     And the fiddle's so old, too!added Hammer-Head who, althoughsober, seemed quite drunk.     Old? said John Smith. Ofcourse it's old. It's over five thousandyears old. I was lucky to findit in a pawnshop. Only it's not afiddle but a      Zloomph     . This is theonly one in existence. He pattedthe thing tenderly. I tried the holein it but it isn't the right one.     I wondered what the hell he wastalking about. I studied the black,mirror-like wood. The aperture inthe vesonator was like that of anybass fiddle.     Isn't right for what? I had toask.     He turned his sad eyes to me.For going home, he said.     Hummm, I thought.  <doc-sep>Tonight is our last night at      TheSpace Room     . Goon-Face is scowlingagain with the icy fury of aPlutonian monsoon. As Goon-Facehas said, No beeg feedle, no contract.     Without John, we're notes in alost chord.     We've searched everything, inhospitals, morgues, jails, night clubs,hotels. We've hounded spaceportsand 'copter terminals. Nowhere, nowhereis John Smith.     Ziggy, whose two fingers havehealed, has already bowed to whatseems inevitable. He's signed up forthat trip to Neptune's uraniumpits. There's plenty of room formore volunteers, he tells us. But Ispend my time cussing the guy whoforgot to set the force field at theother end of the hole and let Johnand his      Zloomph     back into his owntime dimension. I cuss harder whenI think how we were robbed of thebest bass player in the galaxy.     And without a corpus delecti wecan't even sue the city.       ... THE END    <doc-sep>Heaven lasted for just threedays. During those seventy-twogolden hours the melodious tinklingof The Eye's cash register was asconstant as that of Santa's sleighbells.     John became the hero of tourists,spacemen, and Martians, but neverthelesshe remained stubbornlyaloof. He was quiet, moody, playinghis      Zloomph     automatically. He'dreveal definite indications of belongingto Homo Sapiens only whendrinking beer and talking about hisholes.     Goon-Face was still cautious.     Contract? he wheezed. Maybe.We see. Eef feedleman stay, wehave contract. He stay, yes?     Oh, sure, I said. He'll stay—justas long as you want him.     Den he sign contract, too. Nobeeg feedle, no contract.     Sure. We'll get him to sign it.I laughed hollowly. Don't worry,Mr. Ke-teeli.     Just a few minutes later tragedystruck.     A reporter from the      MarsportTimes     ambled into interview theMan of The Hour. The interview,unfortunately, was conducted overthe bar and accompanied by a generousguzzling of beer. Fat Boy,Hammer-Head and I watchedfrom a table. Knowing John as wedid, a silent prayer was in our eyes.     This is the first time he's talkedto anybody, Fat Boy breathed.I—I'm scared.     Nothing can happen, I said,optimistically. This'll be good publicity.     We watched.     John murmured something. Thereporter, a paunchy, balding man,scribbled furiously in his notebook.     John yawned, muttered somethingelse. The reporter continuedto scribble.     John sipped beer. His eyesbrightened, and he began to talkmore rapidly.     The reporter frowned, stoppedwriting, and studied John curiously.     John finished his first beer,started on his second. His eyes werewild, and he was talking more andmore rapidly.     He's doing it, Hammer-Headgroaned. He's telling him!     I rose swiftly. We better getover there. We should have knownbetter—     We were too late. The reporterhad already slapped on his hat andwas striding to the exit. John turnedto us, dazed, his enthusiasm vanishinglike air from a punctured balloon.     He wouldn't listen, he said,weakly. I tried to tell him, but hesaid he'd come back when I'msober. I'm sober now. So I quit.I've got to find my hole.     I patted him on the back. No,John, we'll help you. Don't quit.We'll—well, we'll help you.     We're working on a plan, too,said Fat Boy in a burst of inspiration.We're going to make a morescientific approach.     How? John asked.     Fat Boy gulped.     Just wait another day, I said.We'll have it worked out. Just bepatient another day. You can'tleave now, not after all your work.     No, I guess not, he sighed. I'llstay—until tomorrow.  <doc-sep>Brown stared at this evidence of the Grannies' power withterror-fascinated eyes. His voice was none too firm.     Lord! Piledrivers! A couple more like that—     Isobar nodded. He knew what falling into the clutch of the Granniesmeant. He had once seen the grisly aftermath of a Graniteback feast.Even now their adversaries had drawn back for a second attack. A suddenidea struck him. A straw of hope at which he grasped feverishly.     You telecast a message to the Dome? Help should be on the way by now.If we can just hold out—     But Roberts shook his head.     We sent a message, Jonesy, but I don't think it got through. I've justbeen looking at my portable. It seems to be busted. Happened when theyfirst attacked us, I guess. I tripped and fell on it.     Isobar's last hope flickered out.     Then I—I guess it won't be long now, he mourned. If we could haveonly got a message through, they would have sent out an armored car topick us up. But as it is—     Brown's shrug displayed a bravado he did not feel.     Well, that's the way it goes. We knew what we were risking when wevolunteered to come Outside. This damn moon! It'll never be wortha plugged credit until men find some way to fight those murderousstones-on-legs!     Roberts said, That's right. But what are      you     doing out here, Isobar?And why, for Pete's sake, the bagpipes?     Oh—the pipes? Isobar flushed painfully. He had almost forgottenhis original reason for adventuring Outside, had quite forgottenhis instrument, and was now rather amazed to discover that somehowthroughout all the excitement he had held onto it. Why, I justhappened to—Oh!      the pipes!          Hold on! roared Roberts. His warning came just in time. Once more,the three tree-sitters shook like dried peas in a pod as their leafyrefuge trembled before the locomotive onslaught of the lunar beasts.This time the already-exposed roots strained and lifted, severalsnapped; when the Grannies again withdrew, complacently unaware thatthe lethal ray of Brown's Haemholtz was wasting itself upon theiradamant hides in futile fury, the tree was bent at a precarious angle.     Brown sobbed, not with fear but with impotent anger, and in a gestureof enraged desperation, hurled his now-empty weapon at the retreatingGrannies.     No good! Not a damn bit of good! Oh, if there was only some way offighting those filthy things—     But Isobar Jones had a one-track mind. The pipes! he cried again,excitedly. That's the answer! And he drew the instrument into playingposition, bag cuddled beneath one arm-pit, drones stiffly erect overhis shoulder, blow-pipe at his lips. His cheeks puffed, his breathexpelled. The giant lung swelled, the chaunter emitted its distinctive,fearsome,       Kaa-aa-o-o-o-oro-oong!          Roberts moaned.     Oh, Lord! A guy can't even die in peace!     And Brown stared at him hopelessly.     It's no use, Isobar. You trying to scare them off? They have no senseof hearing. That's been proven—     Isobar took his lips from the reed to explain.     It's not that. I'm trying to rouse the boys in the Dome. We're rightopposite the atmosphere-conditioning-unit. See that grilled duct overthere? That's an inhalation-vent. The portable transmitter's out oforder, and our voices ain't strong enough to carry into the Dome—butthe sound of these pipes is! And Commander Eagan told me just a shortwhile ago that the sound of the pipes carries all over the building!     If they hear this, they'll get mad because I'm disobeyin' orders.They'll start lookin' for me. If they can't find me inside, maybethey'll look Outside. See that window? That's Sparks' turret. If we canmake him look out here—           Stop talking!      roared Roberts. Stop talking, guy, and startblowing! I think you've got something there. Anyhow, it's our lasthope.      Blow!          And quick! appended Brown. For here they come!        Isobar played, blew with all his might, while the Grannies raged below.        He meant the Grannies. Again they were huddling for attack, once more,a solid phalanx of indestructible, granite flesh, they were smashingdown upon the tree.           Haa-a-roong!      blew Isobar Jones.      IV     And—even he could not have foreseen the astounding results ofhis piping! What happened next was as astonishing as it wasincomprehensible. For as the pipes, filled now and primed to burst intowhatever substitute for melody they were prodded into, wailed intoaction—the Grannies' rush came to an abrupt halt!     As one, they stopped cold in their tracks and turned dull, colorless,questioning eyes upward into the tree whence came this weird andvibrant droning!     So stunned with surprise was Isobar that his grip on the pipes relaxed,his lips almost slipped from the reed. But Brown's delighted bellowlifted his paralysis.     Sacred rings of Saturn-look! They      like     it! Keep playing, Jonesy!Play, boy, like you never played before!     And Roberts roared, above the skirling of the      piobaireachd     intowhich Isobar had instinctively swung, Music hath charms to soothe thesavage beast! Then we were wrong. They      can     hear, after all! See that?They're lying down to listen—like so many lambs! Keep playing, Isobar!For once in my life I'm glad to hear that lovely, wonderful music!     Isobar needed no urging. He, too, had noted how the Grannies' attackhad stopped, how every last one of the gaunt grey beasts had suddenly,quietly, almost happily, dropped to its haunches at the base of thetree.     There was no doubt about it; the Grannies      liked     this music. Eyesraptly fixed, unblinking, unwavering, they froze into postures ofgentle beatitude. One stirred once, dangerously, as for a moment Isobarpaused to catch his breath, but Isobar hastily lipped the blow-pipewith redoubled eagerness, and the Granny relapsed into quietude.     Followed then what, under somewhat different circumstances, should havebeen a piper's dream. For Isobar had an audience which would not—andin two cases      dared     not—allow him to stop playing. And to thisaudience he played over and over again his entire repertoire. Marches,flings, dances—the stirring      Rhoderik Dhu     and the lilting      LassiesO'Skye     , the mournful      Coghiegh nha Shie     whose keening is like thesound of a sobbing nation.       The Cock o' the North     , he played, and      Mironton     ...      Wee Flow'r o'Dee     and      MacArthur's March     ...      La Cucuracha     and—     And his lungs were parched, his lips dry as swabs of cotton. Bloodpounded through his temples, throbbing in time to the drone of thechaunter, and a dark mist gathered before his eyes. He tore theblow-pipe from his lips, gasped,     Keep playing! came the dim, distant howl of Johnny Brown. Just a fewminutes longer, Jonesy! Relief is on the way. Sparks saw us from histurret window five minutes ago!     And Isobar played on. How, or what, he did not know. The memory ofthose next few minutes was never afterward clear in his mind. All heknew was that above the skirling drone of his pipes there came anothersound, the metallic clanking of a man-made machine ... an armored tank,sent from the Dome to rescue the beleaguered trio.     He was conscious, then, of a friendly voice shouting words ofencouragement, of Joe Roberts calling a warning to those below.     Careful, boys! Drive the tank right up beneath us so we can hop in andget out of here! Watch the Grannies—they'll be after us the minuteIsobar stops playing!     Then the answer from below. The fantastic answer in Sparks' familiarvoice. The answer that caused the bagpipes to slip from Isobar'sfingers as Isobar Jones passed out in a dead faint:     After you? Those Grannies? Hell's howling acres—      those Grannies arestone dead     !  <doc-sep>Commander Eagan said, You'd better find some new way of amusingyourself, Jones. Have you read General Order 17?     Isobar said, I seen it. But if you think—     It says, stated Eagan deliberately, '      In order that work or restperiods of the Dome's staff may not be disturbed, it is hereby orderedthat the playing or practicing of all or any musical instruments mustbe discontinued immediately. By order of the Dome Commander     ,' Thatmeans you, Jones!     But, dingbust it! keened Isobar, it don't disturb nobody for me toplay my bagpipes! I know these lunks around here don't appreciate goodmusic, so I always go in my office and lock the door after me—     But the Dome, pointed out Commander Eagan, has an air-conditioningsystem which can't be shut off. The ungodly moans ofyour—er—so-called musical instrument can be heard through the entirestructure.     He suddenly seemed to gain stature.     No, Jones, this order is final! You cannot disrupt our entireorganization for your own—er—amusement.     But— said Isobar.     No!     Isobar wriggled desperately. Life on Luna was sorry enough already.If now they took from him the last remaining solace he had, the lastamusement which lightened his moments of freedom—     Look, Commander! he pleaded, I tell you what I'll do. I won't bothernobody. I'll go Outside and play it—     Outside! Eagan stared at him incredulously. Are you mad? How aboutthe Grannies?     Isobar knew all about the Grannies. The only mobile form of lifefound by space-questing man on Earth's satellite, their name was anabbreviation of the descriptive one applied to them by the first Lunarexployers: Granitebacks. This was no exaggeration; if anything, it wasan understatement. For the Grannies, though possessed of certain lowintelligence, had quickly proven themselves a deadly, unyielding andimplacable foe.     Worse yet, they were an enemy almost indestructible! No man had everyet brought to Earth laboratories the carcass of a Grannie; sciencewas completely baffled in its endeavors to explain the composition ofGraniteback physiology—but it was known, from bitter experience, thatthe carapace or exoskeleton of the Grannies was formed of somethingharder than steel, diamond, or battleplate! This flesh could bepenetrated by no weapon known to man; neither by steel nor flame,by electronic nor ionic wave, nor by the lethal, newly discoveredatomo-needle dispenser.     All this Isobar knew about the Grannies. Yet:     They ain't been any Grannies seen around the Dome, he said, fora 'coon's age. Anyhow, if I seen any comin', I could run right backinside—     No! said Commander Eagan flatly. Absolutely,      no     ! I have no timefor such nonsense. You know the orders—obey them! And now, gentlemen,good afternoon!     He left. Sparks turned to Isobar, grinning.     Well, he said, one man's fish—hey, Jonesy? Too bad you can't playyour doodlesack any more, but frankly, I'm just as glad. Of all theawful screeching wails—     But Isobar Jones, generally mild and gentle, was now in a perfectfury. His pale eyes blazed, he stomped his foot on the floor, and fromhis lips poured a stream of such angry invective that Riley lookedstartled. Words that, to Isobar, were the utter dregs of violentprofanity.     Oh, dagnab it! fumed Isobar Jones. Oh, tarnation and dingbust!Oh—      fiddlesticks     !      II     And so, chuckled Riley, he left, bubbling like a kettle on a red-hotoven. But, boy! was he ever mad! Just about ready to bust, he was.     Some minutes had passed since Isobar had left; Riley was talking to Dr.Loesch, head of the Dome's Physics Research Division. The older mannodded commiseratingly.     It is funny, yes, he agreed, but at the same time it is notaltogether amusing. I feel sorry for him. He is a very unhappy man, ourpoor Isobar.     Yeah, I know, said Riley, but, hell, we all get a little bithomesick now and then. He ought to learn to—     Excuse me, my boy, interrupted the aged physicist, his voice gentle,it is not mere homesickness that troubles our friend. It is somethingdeeper, much more vital and serious. It is what my people call:      weltschmertz     . There is no accurate translation in English. It means'world sickness,' or better, 'world weariness'—something like that butintensified a thousandfold.     It is a deeply-rooted mental condition, sometimes a dangerous frameof mind. Under its grip, men do wild things. Hating the world on whichthey find themselves, they rebel in curious ways. Suicide ... mad actsof valor ... deeds of cunning or knavery....     You mean, demanded Sparks anxiously, Isobar ain't got all hisbuttons?     Not that exactly. He is perfectly sane. But he is in a dark morassof despair. He may try      anything     to retrieve his lost happiness, ridhis soul of its dark oppression. His world-sickness is like a cryinghunger—By the way, where is he now?     Below, I guess. In his quarters.     Ah, good! Perhaps he is sleeping. Let us hope so. In slumber he willfind peace and forgetfulness.     But Dr. Loesch would have been far less sanguine had some power thegiftie gi'en him of watching Isobar Jones at that moment.     Isobar was not asleep. Far from it. Wide awake and very much astir, hewas acting in a singularly sinister role: that of a slinking, furtiveculprit.     Returning to his private cubicle after his conversation with DomeCommander Eagan, he had stalked straightway to the cabinet wherein wasencased his precious set of bagpipes. These he had taken from theirpegs, gazed upon defiantly, and fondled with almost parental affection.     So I can't play you, huh? he muttered darkly. It disturbs the peaceo' the dingfounded, dumblasted Dome staff, does it? Well, we'll      see     about that!     And tucking the bag under his arm, he had cautiously slipped from theroom, down little-used corridors, and now he stood before the huge      impervite     gates which were the entrance to the Dome and the doorwayto Outside.     On all save those occasions when a spacecraft landed in the cradleadjacent the gateway, these portals were doubly locked and barred. Buttoday they had been unbolted that the two maintenance men might ventureout. And since it was quite possible that Brown and Roberts might haveto get inside in a hurry, their bolts remained drawn. Sole guardian ofthe entrance was a very bored Junior Patrolman.     Up to this worthy strode Isobar Jones, confident and assured, exudingan aura of propriety.     Very well, Wilkins, he said. I'll take over now. You may go to themeeting.     Wilkins looked at him bewilderedly.     Huh? Whuzzat, Mr. Jones?     Isobar's eyebrows arched.     You mean you haven't been notified?     Notified of      what     ?     Why, the general council of all Patrolmen! Weren't you told that Iwould take your place here while you reported to G.H.Q.?     I ain't, puzzled Wilkins, heard nothing about it. Maybe I ought tocall the office, maybe?     And he moved the wall-audio. But Isobar said swiftly. That—er—won'tbe necessary, Wilkins. My orders were plain enough. Now, you just runalong. I'll watch this entrance for you.     We-e-ell, said Wilkins, if you say so. Orders is orders. But keep asharp eye out, Mister Jones, in case Roberts and Brown should come backsudden-like.     I will, promised Isobar, don't worry.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What can you tell me about John Smith and the musical instrument he plays, as mentioned in The Holes?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in THE VALLEY? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>They walked toward the ugly red mound that jutted above the green. Whenthey came close enough, he saw the bodies lying there ... the remains,actually, of what had once been bodies. He felt too sickened to go onwalking.     It may seem cruel now, she said, but the Martians realized thatthere is no cure for the will to conquer. There is no safety from it,either, as the people of Earth and Venus discovered, unless it isgiven an impossible obstacle to overcome. So the Martians provided theConquerors with a mountain. They themselves wanted to climb. They hadto.     He was hardly listening as he walked away from Helene toward the erodedhills. The crew members of the first four ships were skeletons tiedtogether with imperishably strong rope about their waists. Far beyondthem were those from      Mars V     , too freshly dead to have decayedmuch ... Anhauser with his rope cut, a bullet in his head; Jacobs andMarsha and the others ... Terrence much past them all. He had managedto climb higher than anyone else and he lay with his arms stretchedout, his fingers still clutching at rock outcroppings.     The trail they left wound over the ground, chipped in places for holds,red elsewhere with blood from torn hands. Terrence was more than twelvemiles from the ship—horizontally.     Bruce lifted Marsha and carried her back over the rocky dust, into thefresh fragrance of the high grass, and across it to the shade and peacebeside the canal.     He put her down. She looked peaceful enough, more peaceful than thatother time, years ago, when the two of them seemed to have shared somuch, when the future had not yet destroyed her. He saw the shadow ofHelene bend across Marsha's face against the background of the silentlyflowing water of the cool, green canal.     You loved her?     Once, Bruce said. She might have been sane. They got her when shewas young. Too young to fight. But she would have, I think, if she'dbeen older when they got her.     He sat looking down at Marsha's face, and then at the water with theleaves floating down it.     '... And the springs that flow on the floor of the valley will neverseem fresh or clear for thinking of the glitter of the mountain waterin the feathery green of the year....'     He stood up, walked back with Helene along the canal toward the calmcity. He didn't look back.     They've all been dead quite a while, Bruce said wonderingly. YetI seemed to be hearing from Terrence until only a short time ago.Are—are the climbers still climbing—somewhere, Helene?     Who knows? Helene answered softly. Maybe. I doubt if even theMartians have the answer to that.     They entered the city.   <doc-sep>Ud tasted the scent of a man and sluggishly rolled his bullet head fromshoulder to shoulder as he tried to catch sight of his ages-old enemy.For between the hairy quarter-ton beast men of the jungles of Sekk andthe golden men of the valley cities who enslaved them there was eternalwar.     A growl rumbled deep in the hairy half-man's chest. He could see noenemy and yet the scent grew stronger with every breath.     You hunt too near the lake, called a voice. The demons of the waterwill trap you.     Ud's great nostrils quivered. He tasted the odor of a friend mingledwith that of a strange Zuran. He squatted.     It's Noork, he grunted. Why do I not see you?     I have stolen the skin of a demon, answered the invisible man. Go toGurn. Tell him to fear the demons no longer. Tell him the Misty Onescan be trapped and skinned.     Why you want their skins? Ud scratched his hairy gray skull.     Go to save Gurn's ... and here Noork was stumped for words. To savehis father's woman woman, he managed at last. Father's woman womancalled Sarna.     And the misty blob of nothingness was gone again, its goal now themarshy lowlands that extended upward perhaps a thousand feet from thejungle's ragged fringe to end at last in the muddy shallows of the Lakeof Uzdon.     To Noork it seemed that all the world must be like these savage junglefastnesses of the twelve valleys and their central lake. He knew thatthe giant bird had carried him from some other place that his batteredbrain could not remember, but to him it seemed incredible that mencould live elsewhere than in a jungle valley.     But Noork was wrong. The giant bird that he had ridden into the depthsof Sekk's fertile valleys had come from a far different world. And theother bird, for which Noork had been searching when he came upon thegolden-skinned girl, was from another world also.     The other bird had come from space several days before that of Noork,the Vasads had told him, and it had landed somewhere within the landof sunken valleys. Perhaps, thought Noork, the bird had come from thesame valley that had once been his home. He would find the bird andperhaps then he could remember better who he had been.     So it was, ironically enough, that Stephen Dietrich—whose memory wasgone completely—again took up the trail of Doctor Karl Von Mark, lastof the Axis criminals at large. The trail that had led the red-hairedyoung American flier from rebuilding Greece into Africa and the hiddenvalley where Doctor Von Mark worked feverishly to restore the crumbledstructure of Nazidom, and then had sent him hurtling spaceward in thesecond of the Doctor's crude space-ships was now drawing to an end.The Doctor and the young American pilot were both trapped here on thislittle blob of cosmic matter that hides beyond the Moon's cratered bulk.     The Doctor's ship had landed safely on Sekk, the wily scientistpreferring the lesser gravity of this fertile world to that of thelifeless Moon in the event that he returned again to Earth, butDietrich's spacer had crashed.     Two words linked Noork with the past, the two words that the Vasadshad slurred into his name: New York. And the battered wrist watch, itscrystal and hands gone, were all that remained of his Earthly garb.  <doc-sep>They walked, mother, father and the two children, smelling the smells,watching the birds bounce from wall to wall of the valley likescurrying pebbles and suddenly the father said a strange thing:     Remember?     Remember what? Sim lay cradled. Was it any effort for them to rememberwhen they'd lived only seven days!     The husband and wife looked at each other.     Was it only three days ago? said the woman, her body shaking, hereyes closing to think. I can't believe it. It is so unfair. Shesobbed, then drew her hand across her face and bit her parched lips.The wind played at her gray hair. Now is my turn to cry. An hour agoit was you!     An hour is half a life.     Come, she took her husband's arm. Let us look at everything, becauseit will be our last looking.     The sun'll be up in a few minutes, said the old man. We must turnback now.     Just one more moment, pleaded the woman.     The sun will catch us.     Let it catch me then!     You don't mean that.     I mean nothing, nothing at all, cried the woman.     The sun was coming fast. The green in the valley burnt away. Searingwind blasted from over the cliffs. Far away where sun bolts hammeredbattlements of cliff, the huge stone faces shook their contents; thoseavalanches not already powdered down, were now released and fell likemantles.     Dark! shouted the father. The girl sprang over the warm floor of thevalley, answering, her hair a black flag behind her. Hands full ofgreen fruits, she joined them.     The sun rimmed the horizon with flame, the air convulsed dangerouslywith it, and whistled.     The cave people bolted, shouting, picking up their fallen children,bearing vast loads of fruit and grass with them back to their deephideouts. In moments the valley was bare. Except for one small childsomeone had forgotten. He was running far out on the flatness, but hewas not strong enough, and the engulfing heat was drifting down fromthe cliffs even as he was half across the valley.     Flowers were burnt into effigies, grasses sucked back into rocks likesinged snakes, flower seeds whirled and fell in the sudden furnaceblast of wind, sown far into gullies and crannies, ready to blossom atsunset tonight, and then go to seed and die again.     Sim's father watched that child running, alone, out on the floor ofthe valley. He and his wife and Dark and Sim were safe in the mouth oftheir tunnel.     He'll never make it, said father. Do not watch him, woman. It's nota good thing to watch.     They turned away. All except Sim, whose eyes had caught a glint ofmetal far away. His heart hammered in him, and his eyes blurred.Far away, atop a low mountain, one of those metal seeds from spacereflected a dazzling ripple of light! It was like one of hisintra-embryo dreams fulfilled! A metal space seed, intact, undamaged,lying on a mountain! There was his future! There was his hopefor survival! There was where he would go in a few days, when hewas—strange thought—a grown man!     The sun plunged into the valley like molten lava.     The little running child screamed, the sun burned, and the screamingstopped.     Sim's mother walked painfully, with sudden age, down the tunnel,paused, reached up, broke off two last icicles that had formed duringthe night. She handed one to her husband, kept the other. We willdrink one last toast. To you, to the children.     To      you     , he nodded to her. To the children. They lifted theicicles. The warmth melted the ice down into their thirsty mouths.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>  Raiders of the Second Moon     By GENE ELLERMAN     A strange destiny had erased Noork's memory,     and had brought him to this tiny world—to     write an end to his first existence.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Summer 1945.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Beyond earth swings that airless pocked mass of fused rock and grayvolcanic dust that we know as Luna. Of this our naked eyes assure us.But of the smaller satellite, hidden forever from the mundane view byLuna's bulk, we know little.     Small is Sekk, that second moon, less than five hundred miles indiameter, but the period of its revolution is thirty two hours, and itsmeaner mass retains a breathable atmosphere. There is life on Sekk,life that centers around the sunken star-shaped cavity where an ovallake gleams softly in the depths. And the eleven radiating tips of thestarry abyss are valleys green with jungle growth.     In one of those green valleys the white savage that the Vasads calledNoork squatted in the ample crotch of a jungle giant and watched thetrail forty feet below. For down there moved alertly a golden skinnedgirl, her only weapons a puny polished bow of yellow wood and asheathed dagger.     Sight of the girl's flowing brown hair and the graceful femininecontours of her smooth-limbed body beneath its skin-halter and theinsignificant breech-clout, made his brow wrinkle with concentration.Not forever had he lived in this jungle world of valleys and raggedcliffs. Since he had learned the tongue of the hairy Vasads of forest,and the tongue of their gold-skinned leader, Gurn, the renegade, he hadconfirmed that belief.     For a huge gleaming bird had carried him in its talons to the top ofthe cliff above their valley and from the rock fire had risen to devourthe great bird. Somehow he had been flung clear and escaped the deathof the mysterious bird-thing. And in his delirium he had babbled thewords that caused the apish Vasads to name him Noork. Now he repeatedthem aloud.     New York, he said, good ol' New York.     The girl heard. She looked upward fearfully, her rounded bare arm goingback to the bow slung across her shoulder. Swiftly she fitted an arrowand stepped back against the friendly bole of a shaggy barked junglegiant. Noork grinned.     Tako, woman, he greeted her.     Tako, she replied fearfully. Who speaks to Tholon Sarna? Be youhunter or escaped slave?     A friend, said Noork simply. It was I who killed the spotted      narl     last night when it attacked you.     Doubtfully the girl put away her bow. Her fingers, however, were neverfar from the hilt of her hunting dagger.     Noork swung outward from his perch, and then downward along the ladderof limbs to her side. The girl exclaimed at his brown skin.     Your hair is the color of the sun! she said. Your garb is Vasad, yetyou speak the language of the true men. Her violet oddly slanting eyesopened yet wider. Who are you?     I am Noork, the man told her. For many days have I dwelt among thewild Vasads of the jungle with their golden-skinned chief, Gurn, formy friend.     The girl impulsively took a step nearer. Gurn! she cried. Is he talland strong? Has he a bracelet of golden discs linked together withhuman hair? Does he talk with his own shadow when he thinks?     That is Gurn, admitted Noork shortly. He is also an exile from thewalled city of Grath. The city rulers call him a traitor. He has toldme the reason. Perhaps you know it as well?     Indeed I do, cried Sarna. My brother said that we should no longermake slaves of the captured Zurans from the other valleys.     Noork smiled. I am glad he is your brother, he said simply.  <doc-sep>The violence of this thought evacuated his bowels. Eight days. Eight      short     days. It was wrong, impossible, but a fact. Even while in hismother's flesh some racial knowledge had told him he was being formedrapidly, shaped and propelled out swiftly.     Birth was quick as a knife. Childhood was over in a flash. Adolescencewas a sheet of lightning. Manhood was a dream, maturity a myth, old agean inescapably quick reality, death a swift certainty.     Eight days from now he'd stand half-blind, withering, dying, as hisfather now stood, staring uselessly at his own wife and child.     This day was an eighth part of his total life! He must enjoy everysecond of it. He must search his parents' thoughts for knowledge.       Because in a few hours they'd be dead.       This was so impossibly unfair. Was this all of life? In his prenatalstate hadn't he dreamed of      long     lives, valleys not of blasted stonebut green foliage and temperate clime? Yes! And if he'd dreamed thenthere must be truth in the visions. How could he seek and find the longlife? Where? And how could he accomplish a life mission that huge anddepressing in eight short, vanishing days?     How had his people gotten into such a condition?     As if at a button pressed, he saw an image. Metal seeds, blown acrossspace from a distant green world, fighting with long flames, crashingon this bleak planet. From their shattered hulls tumble men and women.     When? Long ago. Ten thousand days. The crash victims hid in the cliffsfrom the sun. Fire, ice and floods washed away the wreckage of thehuge metal seeds. The victims were shaped and beaten like iron upona forge. Solar radiations drenched them. Their pulses quickened,two hundred, five hundred, a thousand beats a minute. Their skinsthickened, their blood changed. Old age came rushing. Children wereborn in the caves. Swifter, swifter, swifter the process. Like all thisworld's wild life, the men and women from the crash lived and died in aweek, leaving children to do likewise.     So this is life, thought Sim. It was not spoken in his mind, forhe knew no words, he knew only images, old memory, an awareness, atelepathy that could penetrate flesh, rock, metal. So I'm the fivethousandth in a long line of futile sons? What can I do to save myselffrom dying eight days from now? Is there escape?     His eyes widened, another image came to focus.     Beyond this valley of cliffs, on a low mountain lay a perfect,unscarred metal seed. A metal ship, not rusted or touched by theavalanches. The ship was deserted, whole, intact. It was the only shipof all these that had crashed that was still a unit, still usable. Butit was so far away. There was no one in it to help. This ship, then, onthe far mountain, was the destiny toward which he would grow. There washis only hope of escape.     His mind flexed.     In this cliff, deep down in a confinement of solitude, worked a handfulof scientists. To these men, when he was old enough and wise enough, hemust go. They, too, dreamed of escape, of long life, of green valleysand temperate weathers. They, too, stared longingly at that distantship upon its high mountain, its metal so perfect it did not rust orage.     The cliff groaned.     Sim's father lifted his eroded, lifeless face.     Dawn's coming, he said.      II     Morning relaxed the mighty granite cliff muscles. It was the time ofthe Avalanche.     The tunnels echoed to running bare feet. Adults, children pushed witheager, hungry eyes toward the outside dawn. From far out, Sim hearda rumble of rock, a scream, a silence. Avalanches fell into valley.Stones that had been biding their time, not quite ready to fall, fora million years let go their bulks, and where they had begun theirjourney as single boulders they smashed upon the valley floor in athousand shrapnels and friction-heated nuggets.     Every morning at least one person was caught in the downpour.     The cliff people dared the avalanches. It added one more excitement totheir lives, already too short, too headlong, too dangerous.     Sim felt himself seized up by his father. He was carried brusquely downthe tunnel for a thousand yards, to where the daylight appeared. Therewas a shining insane light in his father's eyes. Sim could not move. Hesensed what was going to happen. Behind his father, his mother hurried,bringing with her the little sister, Dark. Wait! Be careful! shecried to her husband.     Sim felt his father crouch, listening.     High in the cliff was a tremor, a shivering.     Now! bellowed his father, and leaped out.     An avalanche fell down at them!     Sim had accelerated impressions of plunging walls, dust, confusion. Hismother screamed! There was a jolting, a plunging.     With one last step, Sim's father hurried him forward into the day. Theavalanche thundered behind him. The mouth of the cave, where mother andDark stood back out of the way, was choked with rubble and two bouldersthat weighed a hundred pounds each.     The storm thunder of the avalanche passed away to a trickle of sand.Sim's father burst out into laughter. Made it! By the Gods! Made italive! And he looked scornfully at the cliff and spat. Pagh!     Mother and sister Dark struggled through the rubble. She cursed herhusband. Fool! You might have killed Sim!     I may yet, retorted the father.     Sim was not listening. He was fascinated with the remains of anavalanche afront of the next tunnel. A blood stain trickled out fromunder a rise of boulders, soaking into the ground. There was nothingelse to be seen. Someone else had lost the game.     Dark ran ahead on lithe, supple feet, naked and certain.     The valley air was like a wine filtered between mountains. The heavenwas a restive blue; not the pale scorched atmosphere of full day, northe bloated, bruised black-purple of night, a-riot with sickly shiningstars.     This was a tide pool. A place where waves of varying and violenttemperatures struck, receded. Now the tide pool was quiet, cool, andits life moved abroad.     Laughter! Far away, Sim heard it. Why laughter? How could any of hispeople find time for laughing? Perhaps later he would discover why.     The valley suddenly blushed with impulsive color. Plant-life, thawingin the precipitant dawn, shoved out from most unexpected sources. Itflowered as you watched. Pale green tendrils appeared on scoured rocks.Seconds later, ripe globes of fruit twitched upon the blade-tips.Father gave Sim over to mother and harvested the momentary, volatilecrop, thrust scarlet, blue, yellow fruits into a fur sack which hung athis waist. Mother tugged at the moist new grasses, laid them on Sim'stongue.     His senses were being honed to a fine edge. He stored knowledgethirstily. He understood love, marriage, customs, anger, pity, rage,selfishness, shadings and subtleties, realities and reflections. Onething suggested another. The sight of green plant life whirled his mindlike a gyroscope, seeking balance in a world where lack of time forexplanations made a mind seek and interpret on its own. The soft burdenof food gave him knowledge of his system, of energy, of movement. Likea bird newly cracking its way from a shell, he was almost a unit,complete, all-knowing. Heredity had done all this for him. He grewexcited with his ability.  <doc-sep>A fat, square-jawed face, harsh lines paralleling the ugly blob of anose, showed through the opened robe of the leader. The face was thatof Doctor Von Mark the treacherous Nazi scientist that Stephen Dietrichhad trailed across space to Sekk! But Noork knew nothing of that chase.The man's face seemed familiar, and hateful, but that was all heremembered.     I see you have come from the island, said the Doctor. Perhaps youcan tell me the secret of this invisible material I wear. With thesecret of invisibility I, Karl Von Mark, can again conquer Earth andmake the Fatherland invincible.     I do not understand too well, said Noork hesitantly. Are we enemies?There is so much I have forgotten. He regarded the brutal facethoughtfully.     Perhaps you know from what valley the great bird brought me, he said.Or perhaps the other bird brought you here.     Von Mark's blue eyes widened and then he roared with a great noisethat was intended to be mirth. His foot slammed harder into Noork'sdefenseless ribs.     Perhaps you have forgotten, swine of an American, he roared suddenly,and in his hand was an ugly looking automatic. He flung back his robeand Noork saw the dress uniform of a general. Perhaps, the scientistrepeated, but I will take no chances. The amnesia is often but apretense.     His lip curled. This is something for you to remember, CaptainDietrich, he said as the ugly black muzzle of the gun centered onNoork's bronzed chest.     And then Doctor Von Mark cursed as the gun dropped from his nervelessfingers and his hands clawed weakly at the arrow buried in his widebelly. He stumbled backward.     Arrows rained from the mistiness that had closed in about Von Mark andhis men. The men from Wari, their faces unshielded, fell like flies.In a moment those yet alive had taken to their heels, and Noork feltinvisible fingers tearing at the nets that bound him.     As he rose to his feet the robed figure let its misty covering dropaside. A handsome golden-skinned warrior stood revealed.     Gurn! cried Noork.     A glad cry came from the throat of Tholon Sarna as she saw her brother.And then she crept closer to Noork's side as the invisible mantlesof Gurn's loyal Vasads opened to reveal the hairy beast men theyconcealed. Rold whimpered fearfully.     The message that Ud carried to me was good, laughed Gurn. The MistyOnes skin easily. We were trapping the Misty Ones as they came acrossthe lake, he looked at the dying Von Mark, as were these others. Soonwe would have come to your rescue, Noork, my friend.     Lucky I escaped first, Noork told him. The priests of Uzdon wouldhave trapped you. To them the Misty Ones are visible.     He picked up the fallen vision shield that lay beside their feet. Hischest expanded proudly.     No longer, he told Gurn, am I a man without a name. I am CaptainDietrich from a distant valley called America. I was hunting this evilman when my bird died.     He smiled and his brown arm tightened around Sarna's golden body. Theevil man is dead. My native valley is safe. Now I can live in peacewith you, Gurn, and with your sister, here in the jungle.     It is good, Noork, smiled Tholon Sarna.   <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in THE VALLEY?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How do Michael and Mary's conflicting preferences affect their relationship in THE VALLEY? [SEP] <s>It was night. The city had been lost beyond the dead mounds of Earththat rolled away behind them, like a thousand ancient tombs. Theground car sat still on a crumbling road.     Looking up through the car's driving blister, they saw the stars sunkinto the blue black ocean of space; saw the path of the Milky Wayalong which they had rushed, while they had been searching franticallyfor the place of salvation.     If any one of the other couples had made it back, said Mary, do youthink they'd be with us?     I think they'd either be with us, he said, or out in spaceagain—or in prison.     She stared ahead along the beam of headlight that stabbed out into thenight over the decaying road.     How sorry are you, she said quietly, coming with me?     All I know is, if I were out in space for long without you, I'd killmyself.     Are we going to die out here, Michael? she said, gesturing towardthe wall of night that stood at the end of the headlight, with theland?     He turned from her, frowning, and drove the ground car forward,watching the headlights push back the darkness.     They followed the crumbling highway all night until light crept acrossthe bald and cracked hills. The morning sun looked down upon thedesolation ten feet above the horizon when the car stopped. They satfor a long time then, looking out upon the Earth's parched andinflamed skin. In the distance a wall of mountains rose like a greatpile of bleached bones. Close ahead the rolling plains were motionlesswaves of dead Earth with a slight breeze stirring up little swirls ofdust.     I'm getting out, she said.     I haven't the slightest idea how much farther to go, or why, saidMichael shrugging. It's all the same. Dirt and hills and mountainsand sun and dust. It's really not much different from being out inspace. We live in the car just like in a space ship. We've enoughconcentrated supplies to last for a year. How far do we go? Why?When?     They stepped upon the Earth and felt the warmth of the sun andstrolled toward the top of the hill.     The air smells clean, he said.     The ground feels good. I think I'll take off my shoes. She did.Take off your boots, Michael. Try it.     Wearily he pulled off his boots, stood in his bare feet. It takes meback.     Yes, she said and began walking toward the hilltop.     He followed, his boots slung around his neck. There was a roadsomewhere, with the dust between my toes. Or was it a dream?     I guess when the past is old enough, she said, it becomes a dream.     He watched her footprints in the dust. God, listen to the quiet.     I can't seem to remember so much quiet around me. There's always beenthe sound of a space ship, or the pumps back in the cities.     He did not answer but continued to watch her footsteps and to feel thedust squishing up between his toes. Then suddenly:     Mary!     She stopped, whirling around.     He was staring down at her feet.     She followed his gaze.     It's grass! He bent down. Three blades.     She knelt beside him. They touched the green blades.     They're new, he said.     They stared, like religious devotees concentrating upon some sacredobject.     He rose, pulling her up with him. They hurried to the top of the hilland stood very still, looking down into a valley. There were tinypatches of green and little trees sprouting, and here and there, apale flower. The green was in a cluster, in the center of the valleyand there was a tiny glint of sunlight in its center.     Oh!     Her hand found his.     They ran down the gentle slope, feeling the patches of green touchtheir feet, smelling a new freshness in the air. And coming to thelittle spring, they stood beside it and watched the crystal water thattrickled along the valley floor and lost itself around a bend. Theysaw a furry, little animal scurry away and heard the twitter of a birdand saw it resting on a slim, bending branch. They heard the buzz of abee, saw it light on a pale flower at their feet and work at thesweetness inside.     Mary knelt down and drank from the spring.     It's so cool. It must come from deep down.     It does, he said. There were tears in his eyes and a tightness inhis throat. From deep down.     We can      live     here, Michael!     Slowly he looked all around until his sight stopped at the bottom of ahill. We'll build our house just beyond those rocks. We'll dig andplant and you'll have the child.     Yes! she said. Oh yes!     And the ones back in the city will know the Earth again. Sometimewe'll lead them back here and show them the Earth is coming alive. Hepaused. By following what we had to do for ourselves, we've found away to save them.     They remained kneeling in the silence beside the pool for a long time.They felt the sun on their backs and looked into the clean depth ofthe water deeply aware of the new life breathing all around them andof themselves absorbing it, and at the same time giving back to it thelife that was their own.     There was only this quiet and breathing and warmth until Michael stoodand picked up a rock and walked toward the base of the hill where hehad decided to build the house.     ... THE END   <doc-sep>Again they sat in the thick chairs before the wall of desks with thefaces of the council looking across it like defenders.     The pumps were beating, beating all through the room and the quiet.     The President was standing. He faced Michael and Mary, and seemed toset himself as though to deliver a blow, or to receive one.     Michael and Mary, he said, his voice struggling against a tightness,we've considered a long time concerning what is to be done with youand the report you brought back to us from the galaxy. He tookanother swallow of water. To protect the sanity of the people, we'vechanged your report. We've also decided that the people must beprotected from the possibility of your spreading the truth, as you didat the landing field. So, for the good of the people, you'll beisolated. All comforts will be given you. After all, in a sense, you      are     heroes and martyrs. Your scar tissue will be cultured as it hasbeen in the past, and you will stay in solitary confinement until thetime when, perhaps, we can migrate to another planet. We feel thathope must not be destroyed. And so another expedition is being sentout. It may be that, in time, on another planet, you'll be able totake your place in our society.     He paused. Is there anything you wish to say?     Yes, there is.     Proceed.     Michael stared straight at the President. After a long moment, heraised his hand to the tiny locket at his throat.     Perhaps you remember, he said, the lockets given to every member ofthe expedition the night before we left. I still have mine. He raisedit. So does my wife. They were designed to kill the wearer instantlyand painlessly if he were ever faced with pain or a terror he couldn'tendure.     The President was standing again. A stir ran along the barricade ofdesks.     We can't endure the city, went on Michael, or its life and the waysof the people. He glanced along the line of staring faces.     If what I think you're about to say is true, said the President in ashaking voice, it would have been better if you'd never been born.     Let's face facts, Mr. President. We were      born     and haven'tdied—yet. A pause. And we can kill ourselves right here before youreyes. It'd be painless to us. We'd be unconscious. But there would behorrible convulsions and grimaces. Our bodies would be twisted andtorn. They'd thresh about. The deaths you saw in the picture happeneda long time ago, in outer space. You all went into hysterics at thesight of them. Our deaths now would be close and terrible to see.     The President staggered as though about to faint. There was a stirringand muttering and a jumping up along the desks. Voices cried out, inanger and fear. Arms waved and fists pounded. Hands clasped andunclasped and clawed at collars, and there was a pell mell rushingaround the President. They yelled at each other and clasped each otherby the shoulders, turned away and back again, and then suddenly becamevery still.     Now they began to step down from the raised line of desks, thePresident leading them, and came close to the man and woman, gatheringaround them in a wide half circle.     Michael and Mary were holding the lockets close to their throats. Thehalf circle of people, with the President at its center was movingcloser and closer. They were sweaty faces and red ones and dry whiteones and hands were raised to seize them.     Michael put his arm around Mary's waist. He felt the trembling in herbody and the waiting for death.     Stop! he said quietly.     They halted, in slight confusion, barely drawing back.     If you want to see us die—just come a step closer.... And rememberwhat'll happen to you.     The faces began turning to each other and there was an undertone ofmuttering and whispering. A ghastly thing.... Instant.... Nothing todo.... Space's broken their minds.... They'll do it.... Eyes'remad.... What can we do?... What?... The sweaty faces, the cold whiteones, the flushed hot ones: all began to turn to the President, whowas staring at the two before him like a man watching himself die in amirror.     I command you, he suddenly said, in a choked voice, to—to give methose—lockets! It's your—duty!     We've only one duty, Mr. President, said Michael sharply. Toourselves.     You're sick. Give yourselves over to us. We'll help you.     We've made our choice. We want an answer. Quickly! Now!     The President's body sagged. What—what is it you want?     Michael threw the words. To go beyond the force fields of the city.To go far out onto the Earth and live as long as we can, and then todie a natural death.     The half circle of faces turned to each other and muttered andwhispered again. In the name of God.... Let them go.... Contaminateus.... Like animals.... Get them out of here....      Let     them befinished.... Best for us all.... And them....     There was a turning to the President again and hands thrusting himforward to within one step of Michael and Mary, who were standingthere close together, as though attached.     Haltingly he said, Go. Please go. Out onto the Earth—to die. You      will     die. The Earth is dead out there. You'll never see the city oryour people again.     We want a ground car, said Michael. And supplies.     A ground car, repeated the President. And—supplies.... Yes.     You can give us an escort, if you want to, out beyond the first rangeof mountains.     There will be no escort, said the President firmly. No one has beenallowed to go out upon the Earth or to fly above it for many hundredsof years. We know it's there. That's enough. We couldn't bear thesight of it. He took a step back. And we can't bear the sight of youany longer. Go now. Quickly!     Michael and Mary did not let go of the lockets as they watched thehalf circle of faces move backward, staring, as though at corpses thatshould sink to the floor.  <doc-sep>They both saw it at the same time. And they watched, without speaking,both knowing what was in the other's mind and heart. They watched thegiant four dimensional screens all through the city. A green, lushplanet showed bright and clear on them and there were ships standingamong the trees and men walking through the grass, that moved gentlylike the swells on a calm ocean, while into their minds came thethoughts projected from the screen:     This will be your new home. It was found and then lost. But anotherexpedition will be sent out to find it again. Be of good hope.Everything will be all right.     Michael turned from the window. So there's our evidence. Two thousandyears. All the others killed getting it. And with a simple twist, itbecomes a lie.     Mary sat down and buried her face in her hands.     What a terrible failure there's been here, said Michael. Theneglect and destruction of a whole planet. It's like a family lettingtheir home decay all around them, and living in smaller and smallerrooms of it, until at last the rooms are all gone, and since theycan't find another home, they all die in the ruins of the last room.     I can't face dying, Mary said quietly, squeezed in with all thesepeople, in this tomb they've made around the seas. I want to have theopen sky and the quiet away from those awful pounding pumps when Idie. I want the spread of the Earth all around and the clean air. Iwant to be a real part of the Earth again.     Michael barely nodded in agreement. He was standing very still now.     And then there was the sound of the door opening.     They both rose, like mourners at a funeral, and went into the councilchambers.  <doc-sep>Michael and Mary, both staring, saw, along the line of desks, theagonized faces, some staring like white stones, others hidden inclutching fingers, as though they had been confronted by a Medusa.There was the sound of heavy breathing that mixed with the throbbingof the pumps. The President held tightly to the edges of his desk toquiet his trembling.     There—there've been changes, he said, since you've been out inspace. There isn't a person on Earth who's seen a violent death forhundreds of years.     Michael faced him, frowning. I don't follow you.     Dying violently happened so seldom on Earth that, after a long time,the sight of it began to drive some people mad. And then one day a manwas struck by one of the ground cars and      everyone     who saw it wentinsane. Since then we've eliminated accidents, even the idea. Now, noone is aware that death by violence is even a possibility.     I'm sorry, said Michael, we've been so close to violent death forso long.... What you've seen is part of the proof you asked for.     What you showed us was a picture, said the President. If it hadbeen real, we'd all be insane by now. If it were shown to the peoplethere'd be mass hysteria.     But even if we'd found another habitable planet, getting to it wouldinvolve just what we've shown you. Maybe only a tenth of the peoplewho left Earth, or a hundredth, would ever reach a destination out inspace.     We couldn't tolerate such a possibility, said the Presidentgravely. We'd have to find a way around it.     The pumps throbbed like giant hearts all through the stillness in thecouncil chambers. The faces along the line of desks were smoothingout; the terror in them was fading away.     And yet the Earth is almost dead, said Michael quietly, and youcan't bring it back to life.     The sins of our past, Mr. Nelson, said the President. The Atomicwars five thousand years ago. And the greed. It was too late a longtime ago. That, of course, is why the expedition was sent out. And nowyou've come back to us with this terrible news. He looked around,slowly, then back to Michael. Can you give us any hope at all?     None.     Another expedition? To Andromeda perhaps? With you the leader?     Michael shook his head. We're finished with expeditions, Mr.President.     There were mutterings in the council, and hastily whisperedconsultations. Now they were watching the man and woman again.     We feel, said the President, it would be dangerous to allow you togo out among the people. They've been informed that your statementwasn't entirely true. This was necessary, to avoid a panic. The peoplesimply must not know the whole truth. He paused. Now we ask you tokeep in mind that whatever we decide about the two of you will be forthe good of the people.     Michael and Mary were silent.     You'll wait outside the council chambers, the President went on,until we have reached our decision.     As the man and woman were led away, the pumps beat in the stillness,and at the edge of the shrinking seas the salt thick waters were beingpulled into the distilleries, and from them into the tier upon tier ofartificial gardens that sat like giant bee hives all around theshoreline; and the mounds of salt glistening in the sunlight behindthe gardens were growing into mountains.  <doc-sep>We slowly circled the alien structure. Several minutes later, Kaneshouted, Look!     A few feet above the ground, the structure's smooth surface was brokenby a circular opening that yawned invitingly. Kane ran ahead andflashed his head-lamp into the dark recess.     There's a small room inside, he told us, and climbed through theopening.     We waited outside and focused our lamps through the five-foot openingto give him as much light as possible.     Come on in, Marie, he called to his wife. This is really something!It      must     be an alien race. There's all kinds of weird drawings on thewalls and gadgets that look like controls for something....     Briefly, my lamp flickered over Marie's pale face. Her featuresstruggled with two conflicting emotions: She was frightened by thealienness of the thing and yet she wanted to be with her husband. Shehesitated momentarily, then climbed through the passage.     You want to go in? my wife asked.     Do you?     Let's.     I helped Verana through the opening, climbed through myself and turnedto help Miller.     Miller was sixty years old. He was an excellent mineralogist, alertmentally, but with a body that was almost feeble. I reached out to helphim as he stepped into the passageway.     For a brief second, he was framed in the opening, a dark silhouetteagainst the star-studded sky.     The next second, he was thrown twenty yards into the air. He gaspedwith pain when he struck the ground.       Something     pushed me!     Are you all right?     Yes.     He had fallen on a spot beyond our angle of vision. I started throughthe passage....     ... and struck an invisible solid wall.  <doc-sep>In their rooms, Michael and Mary were talking through the hours, andwaiting. All around them were fragile, form-fitting chairs andtranslucent walls and a ceiling that, holding the light of the sunwhen they had first seen it, was now filled with moonlight.     Standing at a circular window, ten feet in diameter, Michael saw, farbelow, the lights of the city extending into the darkness along theshoreline of the sea.     We should have delivered our message by radio, he said, and goneback into space.     You could probably still go, she said quietly.     He came and stood beside her. I couldn't stand being out in space, oranywhere, without you.     She looked up at him. We could go out into the wilderness, Michael,outside the force walls. We could go far away.     He turned from her. It's all dead. What would be the use?     I came from the Earth, she said quietly. And I've got to go back toit. Space is so cold and frightening. Steel walls and blackness andthe rockets and the little pinpoints of light. It's a prison.     But to die out there in the desert, in that dust. Then he paused andlooked away from her. We're crazy—talking as though we had achoice.     Maybe they'll have to      give     us a choice.     What're you talking about?     They went into hysterics at the sight of those bodies in the picture.Those young bodies that didn't die of old age.     He waited.     They can't stand the sight of people dying violently.     Her hand went to her throat and touched the tiny locket.     These lockets were given to us so we'd have a choice betweensuffering or quick painless death.... We still have a choice.     He touched the locket at his own throat and was very still for a longmoment. So we threaten to kill ourselves, before their eyes. Whatwould it do to them?     He was still for a long time. Sometimes, Mary, I think I don't knowyou at all. A pause. And so now you and I are back where we started.Which'll it be, space or Earth?     Michael. Her voice trembled. I—I don't know how to say this.     He waited, frowning, watching her intently.     I'm—going to have a child.     His face went blank.     Then he stepped forward and took her by the shoulders. He saw thesoftness there in her face; saw her eyes bright as though the sun wereshining in them; saw a flush in her cheeks, as though she had beenrunning. And suddenly his throat was full.     No, he said thickly. I can't believe it.     It's true.     He held her for a long time, then he turned his eyes aside.     Yes, I can see it is.     I—I can't put into words why I let it happen, Michael.     He shook his head. I don't know—what to—to say. It's soincredible.     Maybe—I got so—tired—just seeing the two of us over and over againand the culturing of the scar tissue, for twenty centuries. Maybe thatwas it. It was just—something I felt I      had     to do. Some—      real     lifeagain. Something new. I felt a need to produce something out ofmyself. It all started way out in space, while we were getting closeto the solar system. I began to wonder if we'd ever get out of theship alive or if we'd ever see a sunset again or a dawn or the nightor morning like we'd seen on Earth—so—so long ago. And then I      had     to let it happen. It was a vague and strange thing. There wassomething forcing me. But at the same time I wanted it, too. I seemedto be willing it, seemed to be feeling it was a necessary thing. Shepaused, frowning. I didn't stop to think—it would be like this.     Such a thing, he said, smiling grimly, hasn't happened on Earth forthree thousand years. I can remember in school, reading in the historybooks, how the whole Earth was overcrowded and how the food and waterhad to be rationed and then how the laws were passed forbidding birthand after that how the people died and there weren't any more babiesborn, until at last there was plenty of what the Earth had to give,for everyone. And then the news was broken to everyone about theculturing of the scar tissue, and there were a few dissenters but theywere soon conditioned out of their dissension and the population wasstabilized. He paused. After all this past history, I don't thinkthe council could endure what you've done.     No, she said quietly. I don't think they could.     And so this will be just for      us     . He took her in his arms. If Iremember rightly, this is a traditional action. A pause. Now I'll gowith you out onto the Earth—if we can swing it. When we get outsidethe city, or if we do—Well, we'll see.     They were very still together and then he turned and stood by thewindow and looked down upon the city and she came and stood besidehim.  <doc-sep>Carpenter rubbed modestly gloved hands together. I have no immediatebusiness, so supposing I start showing you the sights. What would youlike to see first, Mr. Frey? Or would you prefer a nice, restful movid?     Frankly, Michael admitted, the first thing I'd like to do is getmyself something to eat. I didn't have any breakfast and I'm famished.Two small creatures standing close to him giggled nervously andscuttled off on six legs apiece.     Shh, not so loud! There are females present. Carpenter drew theyouth to a secluded corner. Don't you know that on Theemim it'sfrightfully vulgar to as much as speak of eating in public?     But why? Michael demanded in too loud a voice. What's wrong witheating in public here on Earth?     Carpenter clapped a hand over the young man's mouth. Hush, hecautioned. After all, on Earth there are things we don't do or evenmention in public, aren't there?     Well, yes. But those are different.     Not at all. Those rules might seem just as ridiculous to a Theemimian.But the Theemimians have accepted our customs just as we have acceptedthe Theemimians'. How would you like it if a Theemimian violatedone of our tabus in public? You must consider the feelings of theTheemimians as equal to your own. Observe the golden rule: 'Do untoextraterrestrials as you would be done by.'     But I'm still hungry, Michael persisted, modulating his voice,however, to a decent whisper. Do the proprieties demand that I starveto death, or can I get something to eat somewhere?     Naturally, the salesman whispered back. Portyork provides for allbodily needs. Numerous feeding stations are conveniently locatedthroughout the port, and there must be some on the field.     After gazing furtively over his shoulder to see that no females werewatching, Carpenter approached a large map of the landing field andpressed a button. A tiny red light winked demurely for an instant.     That's the nearest one, Carpenter explained.  <doc-sep>Ud tasted the scent of a man and sluggishly rolled his bullet head fromshoulder to shoulder as he tried to catch sight of his ages-old enemy.For between the hairy quarter-ton beast men of the jungles of Sekk andthe golden men of the valley cities who enslaved them there was eternalwar.     A growl rumbled deep in the hairy half-man's chest. He could see noenemy and yet the scent grew stronger with every breath.     You hunt too near the lake, called a voice. The demons of the waterwill trap you.     Ud's great nostrils quivered. He tasted the odor of a friend mingledwith that of a strange Zuran. He squatted.     It's Noork, he grunted. Why do I not see you?     I have stolen the skin of a demon, answered the invisible man. Go toGurn. Tell him to fear the demons no longer. Tell him the Misty Onescan be trapped and skinned.     Why you want their skins? Ud scratched his hairy gray skull.     Go to save Gurn's ... and here Noork was stumped for words. To savehis father's woman woman, he managed at last. Father's woman womancalled Sarna.     And the misty blob of nothingness was gone again, its goal now themarshy lowlands that extended upward perhaps a thousand feet from thejungle's ragged fringe to end at last in the muddy shallows of the Lakeof Uzdon.     To Noork it seemed that all the world must be like these savage junglefastnesses of the twelve valleys and their central lake. He knew thatthe giant bird had carried him from some other place that his batteredbrain could not remember, but to him it seemed incredible that mencould live elsewhere than in a jungle valley.     But Noork was wrong. The giant bird that he had ridden into the depthsof Sekk's fertile valleys had come from a far different world. And theother bird, for which Noork had been searching when he came upon thegolden-skinned girl, was from another world also.     The other bird had come from space several days before that of Noork,the Vasads had told him, and it had landed somewhere within the landof sunken valleys. Perhaps, thought Noork, the bird had come from thesame valley that had once been his home. He would find the bird andperhaps then he could remember better who he had been.     So it was, ironically enough, that Stephen Dietrich—whose memory wasgone completely—again took up the trail of Doctor Karl Von Mark, lastof the Axis criminals at large. The trail that had led the red-hairedyoung American flier from rebuilding Greece into Africa and the hiddenvalley where Doctor Von Mark worked feverishly to restore the crumbledstructure of Nazidom, and then had sent him hurtling spaceward in thesecond of the Doctor's crude space-ships was now drawing to an end.The Doctor and the young American pilot were both trapped here on thislittle blob of cosmic matter that hides beyond the Moon's cratered bulk.     The Doctor's ship had landed safely on Sekk, the wily scientistpreferring the lesser gravity of this fertile world to that of thelifeless Moon in the event that he returned again to Earth, butDietrich's spacer had crashed.     Two words linked Noork with the past, the two words that the Vasadshad slurred into his name: New York. And the battered wrist watch, itscrystal and hands gone, were all that remained of his Earthly garb.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How do Michael and Mary's conflicting preferences affect their relationship in THE VALLEY?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What was the task assigned to Michael and Mary during their mission in THE VALLEY? [SEP] <s>It was night. The city had been lost beyond the dead mounds of Earththat rolled away behind them, like a thousand ancient tombs. Theground car sat still on a crumbling road.     Looking up through the car's driving blister, they saw the stars sunkinto the blue black ocean of space; saw the path of the Milky Wayalong which they had rushed, while they had been searching franticallyfor the place of salvation.     If any one of the other couples had made it back, said Mary, do youthink they'd be with us?     I think they'd either be with us, he said, or out in spaceagain—or in prison.     She stared ahead along the beam of headlight that stabbed out into thenight over the decaying road.     How sorry are you, she said quietly, coming with me?     All I know is, if I were out in space for long without you, I'd killmyself.     Are we going to die out here, Michael? she said, gesturing towardthe wall of night that stood at the end of the headlight, with theland?     He turned from her, frowning, and drove the ground car forward,watching the headlights push back the darkness.     They followed the crumbling highway all night until light crept acrossthe bald and cracked hills. The morning sun looked down upon thedesolation ten feet above the horizon when the car stopped. They satfor a long time then, looking out upon the Earth's parched andinflamed skin. In the distance a wall of mountains rose like a greatpile of bleached bones. Close ahead the rolling plains were motionlesswaves of dead Earth with a slight breeze stirring up little swirls ofdust.     I'm getting out, she said.     I haven't the slightest idea how much farther to go, or why, saidMichael shrugging. It's all the same. Dirt and hills and mountainsand sun and dust. It's really not much different from being out inspace. We live in the car just like in a space ship. We've enoughconcentrated supplies to last for a year. How far do we go? Why?When?     They stepped upon the Earth and felt the warmth of the sun andstrolled toward the top of the hill.     The air smells clean, he said.     The ground feels good. I think I'll take off my shoes. She did.Take off your boots, Michael. Try it.     Wearily he pulled off his boots, stood in his bare feet. It takes meback.     Yes, she said and began walking toward the hilltop.     He followed, his boots slung around his neck. There was a roadsomewhere, with the dust between my toes. Or was it a dream?     I guess when the past is old enough, she said, it becomes a dream.     He watched her footprints in the dust. God, listen to the quiet.     I can't seem to remember so much quiet around me. There's always beenthe sound of a space ship, or the pumps back in the cities.     He did not answer but continued to watch her footsteps and to feel thedust squishing up between his toes. Then suddenly:     Mary!     She stopped, whirling around.     He was staring down at her feet.     She followed his gaze.     It's grass! He bent down. Three blades.     She knelt beside him. They touched the green blades.     They're new, he said.     They stared, like religious devotees concentrating upon some sacredobject.     He rose, pulling her up with him. They hurried to the top of the hilland stood very still, looking down into a valley. There were tinypatches of green and little trees sprouting, and here and there, apale flower. The green was in a cluster, in the center of the valleyand there was a tiny glint of sunlight in its center.     Oh!     Her hand found his.     They ran down the gentle slope, feeling the patches of green touchtheir feet, smelling a new freshness in the air. And coming to thelittle spring, they stood beside it and watched the crystal water thattrickled along the valley floor and lost itself around a bend. Theysaw a furry, little animal scurry away and heard the twitter of a birdand saw it resting on a slim, bending branch. They heard the buzz of abee, saw it light on a pale flower at their feet and work at thesweetness inside.     Mary knelt down and drank from the spring.     It's so cool. It must come from deep down.     It does, he said. There were tears in his eyes and a tightness inhis throat. From deep down.     We can      live     here, Michael!     Slowly he looked all around until his sight stopped at the bottom of ahill. We'll build our house just beyond those rocks. We'll dig andplant and you'll have the child.     Yes! she said. Oh yes!     And the ones back in the city will know the Earth again. Sometimewe'll lead them back here and show them the Earth is coming alive. Hepaused. By following what we had to do for ourselves, we've found away to save them.     They remained kneeling in the silence beside the pool for a long time.They felt the sun on their backs and looked into the clean depth ofthe water deeply aware of the new life breathing all around them andof themselves absorbing it, and at the same time giving back to it thelife that was their own.     There was only this quiet and breathing and warmth until Michael stoodand picked up a rock and walked toward the base of the hill where hehad decided to build the house.     ... THE END   <doc-sep>Again they sat in the thick chairs before the wall of desks with thefaces of the council looking across it like defenders.     The pumps were beating, beating all through the room and the quiet.     The President was standing. He faced Michael and Mary, and seemed toset himself as though to deliver a blow, or to receive one.     Michael and Mary, he said, his voice struggling against a tightness,we've considered a long time concerning what is to be done with youand the report you brought back to us from the galaxy. He tookanother swallow of water. To protect the sanity of the people, we'vechanged your report. We've also decided that the people must beprotected from the possibility of your spreading the truth, as you didat the landing field. So, for the good of the people, you'll beisolated. All comforts will be given you. After all, in a sense, you      are     heroes and martyrs. Your scar tissue will be cultured as it hasbeen in the past, and you will stay in solitary confinement until thetime when, perhaps, we can migrate to another planet. We feel thathope must not be destroyed. And so another expedition is being sentout. It may be that, in time, on another planet, you'll be able totake your place in our society.     He paused. Is there anything you wish to say?     Yes, there is.     Proceed.     Michael stared straight at the President. After a long moment, heraised his hand to the tiny locket at his throat.     Perhaps you remember, he said, the lockets given to every member ofthe expedition the night before we left. I still have mine. He raisedit. So does my wife. They were designed to kill the wearer instantlyand painlessly if he were ever faced with pain or a terror he couldn'tendure.     The President was standing again. A stir ran along the barricade ofdesks.     We can't endure the city, went on Michael, or its life and the waysof the people. He glanced along the line of staring faces.     If what I think you're about to say is true, said the President in ashaking voice, it would have been better if you'd never been born.     Let's face facts, Mr. President. We were      born     and haven'tdied—yet. A pause. And we can kill ourselves right here before youreyes. It'd be painless to us. We'd be unconscious. But there would behorrible convulsions and grimaces. Our bodies would be twisted andtorn. They'd thresh about. The deaths you saw in the picture happeneda long time ago, in outer space. You all went into hysterics at thesight of them. Our deaths now would be close and terrible to see.     The President staggered as though about to faint. There was a stirringand muttering and a jumping up along the desks. Voices cried out, inanger and fear. Arms waved and fists pounded. Hands clasped andunclasped and clawed at collars, and there was a pell mell rushingaround the President. They yelled at each other and clasped each otherby the shoulders, turned away and back again, and then suddenly becamevery still.     Now they began to step down from the raised line of desks, thePresident leading them, and came close to the man and woman, gatheringaround them in a wide half circle.     Michael and Mary were holding the lockets close to their throats. Thehalf circle of people, with the President at its center was movingcloser and closer. They were sweaty faces and red ones and dry whiteones and hands were raised to seize them.     Michael put his arm around Mary's waist. He felt the trembling in herbody and the waiting for death.     Stop! he said quietly.     They halted, in slight confusion, barely drawing back.     If you want to see us die—just come a step closer.... And rememberwhat'll happen to you.     The faces began turning to each other and there was an undertone ofmuttering and whispering. A ghastly thing.... Instant.... Nothing todo.... Space's broken their minds.... They'll do it.... Eyes'remad.... What can we do?... What?... The sweaty faces, the cold whiteones, the flushed hot ones: all began to turn to the President, whowas staring at the two before him like a man watching himself die in amirror.     I command you, he suddenly said, in a choked voice, to—to give methose—lockets! It's your—duty!     We've only one duty, Mr. President, said Michael sharply. Toourselves.     You're sick. Give yourselves over to us. We'll help you.     We've made our choice. We want an answer. Quickly! Now!     The President's body sagged. What—what is it you want?     Michael threw the words. To go beyond the force fields of the city.To go far out onto the Earth and live as long as we can, and then todie a natural death.     The half circle of faces turned to each other and muttered andwhispered again. In the name of God.... Let them go.... Contaminateus.... Like animals.... Get them out of here....      Let     them befinished.... Best for us all.... And them....     There was a turning to the President again and hands thrusting himforward to within one step of Michael and Mary, who were standingthere close together, as though attached.     Haltingly he said, Go. Please go. Out onto the Earth—to die. You      will     die. The Earth is dead out there. You'll never see the city oryour people again.     We want a ground car, said Michael. And supplies.     A ground car, repeated the President. And—supplies.... Yes.     You can give us an escort, if you want to, out beyond the first rangeof mountains.     There will be no escort, said the President firmly. No one has beenallowed to go out upon the Earth or to fly above it for many hundredsof years. We know it's there. That's enough. We couldn't bear thesight of it. He took a step back. And we can't bear the sight of youany longer. Go now. Quickly!     Michael and Mary did not let go of the lockets as they watched thehalf circle of faces move backward, staring, as though at corpses thatshould sink to the floor.  <doc-sep>They both saw it at the same time. And they watched, without speaking,both knowing what was in the other's mind and heart. They watched thegiant four dimensional screens all through the city. A green, lushplanet showed bright and clear on them and there were ships standingamong the trees and men walking through the grass, that moved gentlylike the swells on a calm ocean, while into their minds came thethoughts projected from the screen:     This will be your new home. It was found and then lost. But anotherexpedition will be sent out to find it again. Be of good hope.Everything will be all right.     Michael turned from the window. So there's our evidence. Two thousandyears. All the others killed getting it. And with a simple twist, itbecomes a lie.     Mary sat down and buried her face in her hands.     What a terrible failure there's been here, said Michael. Theneglect and destruction of a whole planet. It's like a family lettingtheir home decay all around them, and living in smaller and smallerrooms of it, until at last the rooms are all gone, and since theycan't find another home, they all die in the ruins of the last room.     I can't face dying, Mary said quietly, squeezed in with all thesepeople, in this tomb they've made around the seas. I want to have theopen sky and the quiet away from those awful pounding pumps when Idie. I want the spread of the Earth all around and the clean air. Iwant to be a real part of the Earth again.     Michael barely nodded in agreement. He was standing very still now.     And then there was the sound of the door opening.     They both rose, like mourners at a funeral, and went into the councilchambers.  <doc-sep>Michael and Mary, both staring, saw, along the line of desks, theagonized faces, some staring like white stones, others hidden inclutching fingers, as though they had been confronted by a Medusa.There was the sound of heavy breathing that mixed with the throbbingof the pumps. The President held tightly to the edges of his desk toquiet his trembling.     There—there've been changes, he said, since you've been out inspace. There isn't a person on Earth who's seen a violent death forhundreds of years.     Michael faced him, frowning. I don't follow you.     Dying violently happened so seldom on Earth that, after a long time,the sight of it began to drive some people mad. And then one day a manwas struck by one of the ground cars and      everyone     who saw it wentinsane. Since then we've eliminated accidents, even the idea. Now, noone is aware that death by violence is even a possibility.     I'm sorry, said Michael, we've been so close to violent death forso long.... What you've seen is part of the proof you asked for.     What you showed us was a picture, said the President. If it hadbeen real, we'd all be insane by now. If it were shown to the peoplethere'd be mass hysteria.     But even if we'd found another habitable planet, getting to it wouldinvolve just what we've shown you. Maybe only a tenth of the peoplewho left Earth, or a hundredth, would ever reach a destination out inspace.     We couldn't tolerate such a possibility, said the Presidentgravely. We'd have to find a way around it.     The pumps throbbed like giant hearts all through the stillness in thecouncil chambers. The faces along the line of desks were smoothingout; the terror in them was fading away.     And yet the Earth is almost dead, said Michael quietly, and youcan't bring it back to life.     The sins of our past, Mr. Nelson, said the President. The Atomicwars five thousand years ago. And the greed. It was too late a longtime ago. That, of course, is why the expedition was sent out. And nowyou've come back to us with this terrible news. He looked around,slowly, then back to Michael. Can you give us any hope at all?     None.     Another expedition? To Andromeda perhaps? With you the leader?     Michael shook his head. We're finished with expeditions, Mr.President.     There were mutterings in the council, and hastily whisperedconsultations. Now they were watching the man and woman again.     We feel, said the President, it would be dangerous to allow you togo out among the people. They've been informed that your statementwasn't entirely true. This was necessary, to avoid a panic. The peoplesimply must not know the whole truth. He paused. Now we ask you tokeep in mind that whatever we decide about the two of you will be forthe good of the people.     Michael and Mary were silent.     You'll wait outside the council chambers, the President went on,until we have reached our decision.     As the man and woman were led away, the pumps beat in the stillness,and at the edge of the shrinking seas the salt thick waters were beingpulled into the distilleries, and from them into the tier upon tier ofartificial gardens that sat like giant bee hives all around theshoreline; and the mounds of salt glistening in the sunlight behindthe gardens were growing into mountains.  <doc-sep>In their rooms, Michael and Mary were talking through the hours, andwaiting. All around them were fragile, form-fitting chairs andtranslucent walls and a ceiling that, holding the light of the sunwhen they had first seen it, was now filled with moonlight.     Standing at a circular window, ten feet in diameter, Michael saw, farbelow, the lights of the city extending into the darkness along theshoreline of the sea.     We should have delivered our message by radio, he said, and goneback into space.     You could probably still go, she said quietly.     He came and stood beside her. I couldn't stand being out in space, oranywhere, without you.     She looked up at him. We could go out into the wilderness, Michael,outside the force walls. We could go far away.     He turned from her. It's all dead. What would be the use?     I came from the Earth, she said quietly. And I've got to go back toit. Space is so cold and frightening. Steel walls and blackness andthe rockets and the little pinpoints of light. It's a prison.     But to die out there in the desert, in that dust. Then he paused andlooked away from her. We're crazy—talking as though we had achoice.     Maybe they'll have to      give     us a choice.     What're you talking about?     They went into hysterics at the sight of those bodies in the picture.Those young bodies that didn't die of old age.     He waited.     They can't stand the sight of people dying violently.     Her hand went to her throat and touched the tiny locket.     These lockets were given to us so we'd have a choice betweensuffering or quick painless death.... We still have a choice.     He touched the locket at his own throat and was very still for a longmoment. So we threaten to kill ourselves, before their eyes. Whatwould it do to them?     He was still for a long time. Sometimes, Mary, I think I don't knowyou at all. A pause. And so now you and I are back where we started.Which'll it be, space or Earth?     Michael. Her voice trembled. I—I don't know how to say this.     He waited, frowning, watching her intently.     I'm—going to have a child.     His face went blank.     Then he stepped forward and took her by the shoulders. He saw thesoftness there in her face; saw her eyes bright as though the sun wereshining in them; saw a flush in her cheeks, as though she had beenrunning. And suddenly his throat was full.     No, he said thickly. I can't believe it.     It's true.     He held her for a long time, then he turned his eyes aside.     Yes, I can see it is.     I—I can't put into words why I let it happen, Michael.     He shook his head. I don't know—what to—to say. It's soincredible.     Maybe—I got so—tired—just seeing the two of us over and over againand the culturing of the scar tissue, for twenty centuries. Maybe thatwas it. It was just—something I felt I      had     to do. Some—      real     lifeagain. Something new. I felt a need to produce something out ofmyself. It all started way out in space, while we were getting closeto the solar system. I began to wonder if we'd ever get out of theship alive or if we'd ever see a sunset again or a dawn or the nightor morning like we'd seen on Earth—so—so long ago. And then I      had     to let it happen. It was a vague and strange thing. There wassomething forcing me. But at the same time I wanted it, too. I seemedto be willing it, seemed to be feeling it was a necessary thing. Shepaused, frowning. I didn't stop to think—it would be like this.     Such a thing, he said, smiling grimly, hasn't happened on Earth forthree thousand years. I can remember in school, reading in the historybooks, how the whole Earth was overcrowded and how the food and waterhad to be rationed and then how the laws were passed forbidding birthand after that how the people died and there weren't any more babiesborn, until at last there was plenty of what the Earth had to give,for everyone. And then the news was broken to everyone about theculturing of the scar tissue, and there were a few dissenters but theywere soon conditioned out of their dissension and the population wasstabilized. He paused. After all this past history, I don't thinkthe council could endure what you've done.     No, she said quietly. I don't think they could.     And so this will be just for      us     . He took her in his arms. If Iremember rightly, this is a traditional action. A pause. Now I'll gowith you out onto the Earth—if we can swing it. When we get outsidethe city, or if we do—Well, we'll see.     They were very still together and then he turned and stood by thewindow and looked down upon the city and she came and stood besidehim.  <doc-sep>The machine didn't answer. I waited for the electronic brain tointerfere and, with a cold knot in my stomach, realized the machine hadsaid it had no way to control our actions!     Your purpose won't be fulfilled, will it? Kane demanded. Not if youreturn with dead specimens!     No, the machine admitted.     If you don't take us back to the Moon, Kane threatened, I'll kill      all of us     !     The alien electronic brain was silent.     By this time, I couldn't see and Kane's voice was a hollow, farawaything that rang in my ears. I tugged at my bindings, but they onlytightened as I struggled.     If you take us back to the Moon, your masters will never know youfailed in your mission. They won't know you failed because you won'tbring them proof of your failure.     My fading consciousness tried to envision the alien mechanical brain asit struggled with the problem.     Look at it this way, Kane persisted. If you carry our corpses toyour masters, all your efforts will have been useless. If you return usto the Moon alive, you'll still have a chance to carry out your missionlater.     A long silence followed. Verana and Marie screamed at Kane to let go.A soft darkness seemed to fill the room, blurring everything, drowningeven their shrieks in strangling blackness.     You win, the machine conceded. I'll return the ship to the Moon.     Kane released his grip on my throat.     See? he asked. Didn't I tell you every problem has a solution?     I didn't answer. I was too busy enjoying breathing again.  <doc-sep>Save the protests, Fith. You have some explaining to do. And I don'tthink your story will be good enough.     It is for you to explain! This person who was beaten—     Not beaten. Just rapped a few times to loosen his memory.     Then you admit—     It worked, too. He remembered lots of things, once he put his mind toit.     Fith rose; Shluh followed suit.     I shall ask for your immediate recall, Mr. Consul. Were it not foryour diplomatic immunity, I should do more—     Why did the government fall, Fith? It was just after the task forcepaid its visit, and before the arrival of the first Terrestrialdiplomatic mission.     This is an internal matter! Fith cried, in his faint Groacian voice.The new regime has shown itself most amiable to you Terrestrials. Ithas outdone itself—     —to keep the Terrestrial consul and his staff in the dark, Retiefsaid. And the same goes for the few terrestrial businessmen you'vevisaed. This continual round of culture; no social contacts outside thediplomatic circle; no travel permits to visit out-lying districts, oryour satellite—     Enough! Fith's mandibles quivered in distress. I can talk no more ofthis matter—     You'll talk to me, or there'll be a task force here in five days to dothe talking, Retief said.     You can't! Miss Meuhl gasped.     Retief turned a steady look on Miss Meuhl. She closed her mouth. TheGroaci sat down.     Answer me this one, Retief said, looking at Shluh. A few yearsback—about nine, I think—there was a little parade held here. Somecurious looking creatures were captured. After being securely caged,they were exhibited to the gentle Groaci public. Hauled through thestreets. Very educational, no doubt. A highly cultural show.     Funny thing about these animals. They wore clothes. They seemed tocommunicate with each other. Altogether it was a very amusing exhibit.     Tell me, Shluh, what happened to those six Terrestrials after theparade was over?  <doc-sep>  Transcriber's Note:     This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science Fiction June 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.         THE VALLEY       By Richard Stockham       Illustrated by Ed Emsh         If you can't find it countless millions of miles in space,come back to Earth. You might find it just on the other sideof the fence—where the grass is always greener.        The Ship dove into Earth's sea of atmosphere like a great, silverfish.     Inside the ship, a man and woman stood looking down at the expanse ofland that curved away to a growing horizon. They saw the yellow groundcracked like a dried skin; and the polished stone of the mountains andthe seas that were shrunken away in the dust. And they saw how thecity circled the sea, as a circle of men surround a water hole in adesert under a blazing sun.     The ship's radio cried out. You've made it! Thank God! You've madeit!     Another voice, shaking, said, President—Davis is—overwhelmed. Hecan't go on. On his behalf and on behalf of all the people—with ourhope that was almost dead, we greet you. A pause. Please come in!     The voice was silent. The air screamed against the hull of the ship.     I can't tell them, said the man.     Please come in! said the radio. Do you hear me?     The woman looked up at the man. You've got to Michael!     Two thousand years. From one end of the galaxy to the other. Not onegrain of dust we can live on. Just Earth. And it's burned to acinder.     A note of hysteria stabbed into the radio voice. Are you all right?Stand by! We're sending a rescue ship.     They've got a right to know what we've found, said the woman. Theysent us out. They've waited so long—.     He stared into space. It's hopeless. If we'd found another planetthey could live on, they'd do the same as they've done here.     He touched the tiny golden locket that hung around his neck. Rightnow, I could press this and scratch myself and the whole farce wouldbe over.     No. A thousand of us died. You've got to think of them.     We'll go back out into space, he said. It's clean out there. I'mtired. Two thousand years of reincarnation.     She spoke softly. We've been together for a long time. I've lovedyou. I've asked very little. But I need to stay on Earth. Please,Michael.     He looked at her for a moment. Then he flipped a switch. Milky Way toEarth. Never mind the rescue ship. We're all right. We're coming in.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What was the task assigned to Michael and Mary during their mission in THE VALLEY?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the rationale behind the President's decisions regarding his communication with the public, as depicted in THE VALLEY? [SEP] <s>Michael and Mary, both staring, saw, along the line of desks, theagonized faces, some staring like white stones, others hidden inclutching fingers, as though they had been confronted by a Medusa.There was the sound of heavy breathing that mixed with the throbbingof the pumps. The President held tightly to the edges of his desk toquiet his trembling.     There—there've been changes, he said, since you've been out inspace. There isn't a person on Earth who's seen a violent death forhundreds of years.     Michael faced him, frowning. I don't follow you.     Dying violently happened so seldom on Earth that, after a long time,the sight of it began to drive some people mad. And then one day a manwas struck by one of the ground cars and      everyone     who saw it wentinsane. Since then we've eliminated accidents, even the idea. Now, noone is aware that death by violence is even a possibility.     I'm sorry, said Michael, we've been so close to violent death forso long.... What you've seen is part of the proof you asked for.     What you showed us was a picture, said the President. If it hadbeen real, we'd all be insane by now. If it were shown to the peoplethere'd be mass hysteria.     But even if we'd found another habitable planet, getting to it wouldinvolve just what we've shown you. Maybe only a tenth of the peoplewho left Earth, or a hundredth, would ever reach a destination out inspace.     We couldn't tolerate such a possibility, said the Presidentgravely. We'd have to find a way around it.     The pumps throbbed like giant hearts all through the stillness in thecouncil chambers. The faces along the line of desks were smoothingout; the terror in them was fading away.     And yet the Earth is almost dead, said Michael quietly, and youcan't bring it back to life.     The sins of our past, Mr. Nelson, said the President. The Atomicwars five thousand years ago. And the greed. It was too late a longtime ago. That, of course, is why the expedition was sent out. And nowyou've come back to us with this terrible news. He looked around,slowly, then back to Michael. Can you give us any hope at all?     None.     Another expedition? To Andromeda perhaps? With you the leader?     Michael shook his head. We're finished with expeditions, Mr.President.     There were mutterings in the council, and hastily whisperedconsultations. Now they were watching the man and woman again.     We feel, said the President, it would be dangerous to allow you togo out among the people. They've been informed that your statementwasn't entirely true. This was necessary, to avoid a panic. The peoplesimply must not know the whole truth. He paused. Now we ask you tokeep in mind that whatever we decide about the two of you will be forthe good of the people.     Michael and Mary were silent.     You'll wait outside the council chambers, the President went on,until we have reached our decision.     As the man and woman were led away, the pumps beat in the stillness,and at the edge of the shrinking seas the salt thick waters were beingpulled into the distilleries, and from them into the tier upon tier ofartificial gardens that sat like giant bee hives all around theshoreline; and the mounds of salt glistening in the sunlight behindthe gardens were growing into mountains.  <doc-sep>He looked at himself in the mirror and found he had a fine new body;tall and strikingly handsome in a dark, coarse-featured way. Nothing tomatch the one he had lost, in his opinion, but there were probably manypeople who might find this one preferable. No identification in thepockets, but it wasn't necessary; he recognized the face. Not that itwas a very famous or even notorious one, but the dutchman was a carefulstudent of the wanted fax that had decorated public buildings fromtime immemorial, for he was ever mindful of the possibility that hemight one day find himself trapped unwittingly in the body of one ofthe men depicted there. And he knew that this particular man, thoughnot an important criminal in any sense of the word, was one whom thepolice had been ordered to burn on sight. The abolishing of capitalpunishment could not abolish the necessity for self-defense, and theman in question was not one who would let himself be captured easily,nor whom the police intended to capture easily.       This might be a lucky break for me after all     , the new tenant thought,as he tried to adjust himself to the body. It, too, despite its obviousrude health, was not a very comfortable fit.      I can do a lot with ahulk like this. And maybe I'm cleverer than the original owner; maybeI'll be able to get away with it.        IV     Look, Gabe, the girl said, don't try to fool me! I know youtoo well. And I know you have that man's—the real GabrielLockard's—body. She put unnecessary stardust on her nose as shewatched her husband's reflection in the dressing table mirror.     Lockard—Lockard's body, at any rate—sat up and felt his unshavenchin. That what he tell you?     No, he didn't tell me anything really—just suggested I ask youwhatever I want to know. But why else should he guard somebody heobviously hates the way he hates you? Only because he doesn't want tosee his body spoiled.     It      is     a pretty good body, isn't it? Gabe flexed softening musclesand made no attempt to deny her charge; very probably he was relievedat having someone with whom to share his secret.     Not as good as it must have been, the girl said, turning and lookingat him without admiration. Not if you keep on the way you're coursing.Gabe, why don't you...?     Give it back to him, eh? Lockard regarded his wife appraisingly.You'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd be      his     wife then. That would benice—a sound mind in a sound body. But don't you think that's a littlemore than you deserve?     I wasn't thinking about that, Gabe, she said truthfully enough, forshe hadn't followed the idea to its logical conclusion. Of course I'dgo with you, she went on, now knowing she lied, when you got your ...old body back.       Sure     , she thought,      I'd keep going with you to farjeen houses andthrill-mills.     Actually she had accompanied him to a thrill-mill onlyonce, and from then on, despite all his threats, she had refused to gowith him again. But that once had been enough; nothing could ever washthat experience from her mind or her body.     You wouldn't be able to get your old body back, though, would you?she went on. You don't know where it's gone, and neither, I suppose,does he?     I don't want to know! he spat. I wouldn't want it if I could getit back. Whoever it adhered to probably killed himself as soon as helooked in a mirror. He swung long legs over the side of his bed.Christ, anything would be better than that! You can't imagine what ahulk I had!     Oh, yes, I can, she said incautiously. You must have had a body tomatch your character. Pity you could only change one.  <doc-sep>Dimdooly—the mighty, the lordly, who had sneered at the sight of mereEarthmen kowtowing to a mere woman—swelled up fit to blow his gaskets,then all the gas went out of him. His ear beards, however, still hadenough zip left to flutter like butterflies. Yes, Trillium dear. Ilove only you. Please marry me at your earliest convenience.     Well, Grandmamma, Trillium said with a highly self-satisfied air, itworks. And just like you said, Earthmen meant nothing once I knew weVenus women had our own men in our power.     Those crewmen there, Grandmamma President said, seem to be proofenough that we Venus women no longer radiate any threat to Earth'stranquility.     Yes, ma'am, O'Rielly sure felt like proof of something all of a sudden.Worse than the hangover from that crap game with Venus vino. He lookedaway from Trillium and took a look at Callahan. Old guy looked awayfrom Grandmamma President like he was packing the second biggestheadache in history.     Hmmmm, yes, Madame President of Earth observed. Reactions agreeperfectly with the psychoanalytical research project we have beenconducting on the subject of the Venus female influence. MadamePresident of Venus, congratulations on your victory!     Long may the superior sex reign on Venus too! We shall be delighted toreceive an Ambassadoress to discuss a new trade treaty at your earliestconvenience.     Thank you for cancelling the old trade agreements at the psychologicalmoment, Grandmamma President said cordially. What with thecommunications mixup, we managed to have the scenes on these panelsbroadcast throughout all Venus. When the rug went out from under thetop man, the tide really turned in our favor. Now, Trillium, you takeover Dimmy's credentials.     The Ambassadorial Suite, too, Madame President of Earth saidgraciously. Anything else now, Berta?     I should like, Grandmamma President Berta said charmingly, thatMr. O'Rielly and Mr. Callahan be suitably rewarded for assisting ourrevolution better than they knew.     Of course, Madame President of Earth was delighted to oblige. Nodoubt Captain Hatwoody knows what reward would satisfy their needsbest.     The Madame Presidents switched to a private circuit, Trillium draggedDimdooly off somewhere and the Old Woman eyed O'Rielly and Callahan.Especially she eyed Callahan, like running chilled drills through hisold conniving brain. I award the pair of you five minutes leisurebefore returning to your stations.     Oh, well, O'Rielly muttered, once he and Callahan were safely beyondearshot, could have been rewarded worse, I suppose.     What you expect for being flimflammed by a foreign dame, the rings ofSaturn? Lucky we ain't programmed to be hung, shot and thrown to thecrows for breakfast. Callahan's old pick-and-shovel face wore a littlegrin like the cat that nobody could prove ate the canary.     You—I mean, that Earth guy a hundred twenty-five years ago, O'Riellysaid in sudden thought. If Venus dames wanted to be loved so bad, whydid Trillium's Grandmamma let him go?     Venus guys wasn't so busy playing war all the time, Callahan mumbled,like to himself, they'd of found out the answer centuries ago. Yep,guess our boy was the only guy on Earth or Venus to find out and live.Dames bossing both planets now, though, his old secret won't be onemuch longer. Venus dames could of let it out centuries ago themselvesbut didn't, just to spite Earth probably. Later, was part of organizingto take over Venus, I guess.     O'Rielly still had memories of the way he had felt about Trilliumbefore her revolution. All right, Callahan, why did 'our boy' leaveGrandmamma?     Yes, ma'am, Callahan sighed like he hadn't heard a word O'Riellysaid, you could sweet-talk 'em, kiss 'em and hold 'em tighter'nBilly-be-damned. And that's all.     I'm not sure, O'Rielly said, what you mean by, 'that's all.'     Anybody ever seen anybody but a Venus guy come built with ear beards?Course not.     But I thought our boy was wearing the best fakes ever.     Ain't nothing can match the natural growed-on variety, no, ma'am.Venus guy kisses a Venus dame, his beards grabs her roundst the ears.     So what?     Tickles 'em, boy, tickles 'em!   <doc-sep>A fat, square-jawed face, harsh lines paralleling the ugly blob of anose, showed through the opened robe of the leader. The face was thatof Doctor Von Mark the treacherous Nazi scientist that Stephen Dietrichhad trailed across space to Sekk! But Noork knew nothing of that chase.The man's face seemed familiar, and hateful, but that was all heremembered.     I see you have come from the island, said the Doctor. Perhaps youcan tell me the secret of this invisible material I wear. With thesecret of invisibility I, Karl Von Mark, can again conquer Earth andmake the Fatherland invincible.     I do not understand too well, said Noork hesitantly. Are we enemies?There is so much I have forgotten. He regarded the brutal facethoughtfully.     Perhaps you know from what valley the great bird brought me, he said.Or perhaps the other bird brought you here.     Von Mark's blue eyes widened and then he roared with a great noisethat was intended to be mirth. His foot slammed harder into Noork'sdefenseless ribs.     Perhaps you have forgotten, swine of an American, he roared suddenly,and in his hand was an ugly looking automatic. He flung back his robeand Noork saw the dress uniform of a general. Perhaps, the scientistrepeated, but I will take no chances. The amnesia is often but apretense.     His lip curled. This is something for you to remember, CaptainDietrich, he said as the ugly black muzzle of the gun centered onNoork's bronzed chest.     And then Doctor Von Mark cursed as the gun dropped from his nervelessfingers and his hands clawed weakly at the arrow buried in his widebelly. He stumbled backward.     Arrows rained from the mistiness that had closed in about Von Mark andhis men. The men from Wari, their faces unshielded, fell like flies.In a moment those yet alive had taken to their heels, and Noork feltinvisible fingers tearing at the nets that bound him.     As he rose to his feet the robed figure let its misty covering dropaside. A handsome golden-skinned warrior stood revealed.     Gurn! cried Noork.     A glad cry came from the throat of Tholon Sarna as she saw her brother.And then she crept closer to Noork's side as the invisible mantlesof Gurn's loyal Vasads opened to reveal the hairy beast men theyconcealed. Rold whimpered fearfully.     The message that Ud carried to me was good, laughed Gurn. The MistyOnes skin easily. We were trapping the Misty Ones as they came acrossthe lake, he looked at the dying Von Mark, as were these others. Soonwe would have come to your rescue, Noork, my friend.     Lucky I escaped first, Noork told him. The priests of Uzdon wouldhave trapped you. To them the Misty Ones are visible.     He picked up the fallen vision shield that lay beside their feet. Hischest expanded proudly.     No longer, he told Gurn, am I a man without a name. I am CaptainDietrich from a distant valley called America. I was hunting this evilman when my bird died.     He smiled and his brown arm tightened around Sarna's golden body. Theevil man is dead. My native valley is safe. Now I can live in peacewith you, Gurn, and with your sister, here in the jungle.     It is good, Noork, smiled Tholon Sarna.   <doc-sep>  HOME IS WHERE YOU LEFT IT     By ADAM CHASE     [Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Amazing Stories February1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The chance of mass slaughter was their eternal nightmare.      How black is the blackest treachery? Is the most calloustraitor entitled to mercy? Steve pondered these questions. His decision?That at times the villain should possibly be spoken of as a hero.     Only the shells of deserted mud-brick houses greeted Steve Cantwell whenhe reached the village.     He poked around in them for a while. The desert heat was searing,parching, and the Sirian sun gleamed balefully off the blades of Steve'sunicopter, which had brought him from Oasis City, almost five hundredmiles away. He had remembered heat from his childhood here on Sirius'second planet with the Earth colony, but not heat like this. It was likea magnet drawing all the moisture out of his body.     He walked among the buildings, surprise and perhaps sadness etched onhis gaunt, weather-beaten face. Childhood memories flooded back: thesingle well from which all the families drew their water, the mud-brickhouse, hardly different from the others and just four walls and a roofnow, in which he'd lived with his aunt after his parents had been killedin a      Kumaji     raid, the community center where he'd spent his happiesttime as a boy.     He went to the well and hoisted up a pailful of water. The winch creakedas he remembered. He ladled out the water, suddenly very thirsty, andbrought the ladle to his lips.     He hurled the ladle away. The water was bitter. Not brackish.     Poisoned.     He spat with fury, then kneeled and stuffed his mouth with sand, almostgagging. After a while he spat out the sand too and opened his canteenand rinsed his mouth. His lips and mouth were paralyzed by contact withthe poison. He walked quickly across the well-square to his aunt'shouse. Inside, it was dim but hardly cooler. Steve was sweating, thesaline sweat making him blink. He scowled, not understanding. The tablewas set in his aunt's house. A coffeepot was on the stove and lastnight's partially-consumed dinner still on the table.     The well had been poisoned, the town had been deserted on the spur ofthe moment, and Steve had returned to his boyhood home from Earth—toolate for anything.     He went outside into the square. A lizard was sunning itself and staringat him with lidless eyes. When he moved across the square, the lizardscurried away.     Earthman! a quavering voice called.     Steve ran toward the sound. In the scant shadow of the community center,a Kumaji was resting. He was a withered old man, all skin and bones andsweat-stiffened tunic, with enormous red-rimmed eyes. His purple skin,which had been blasted by the merciless sun, was almost black.     Steve held the canteen to his lips and watched his throat working almostspasmodically to get the water down. After a while Steve withdrew thecanteen and said:     What happened here?     They're gone. All gone.     Yes, but what happened?     The Kumaji—     You're Kumaji.     This is my town, the old man said. I lived with the Earthmen. Nowthey're gone.     But you stayed here—     To die, the old man said, without self-pity. I'm too old to flee, tooold to fight, too old for anything but death. More water.  <doc-sep>A station wagon came up behind them, slowed, and matched its speedwith theirs. Someone's following us, Quidley said.     Probably Jilka.     Five minutes later the station wagon turned down a side street anddisappeared. She's no longer with us, Quidley said.     She's got to pick someone up. She'll meet us later.     At your folks'?     At the ship.     The city was thinning out around them now, and a few stars were visiblein the night sky. Quidley watched them thoughtfully for a while. Then:What ship? he said.     The one we're going to      Fieu Dayol     on.           Fieu Dayol?          Persei 17 to you. I said I was going to take you home to meet myfolks, didn't I?     In other words, you're kidnapping me.     She shook her head vehemently. I most certainly am not! Neitheraccording to interstellar law or your own. When you compromised me, youmade yourself liable in the eyes of both.     But why pick on me? There must be plenty of men on      Fieu Dayol     . Whydon't you marry one of them?     For two reasons: one, you're the particular man who compromisedme. Two, there are      not     plenty of men on      Fieu Dayol     . Our race isidentical to yours in everything except population-balance between thesexes. At periodic intervals the women on      Fieu Dayol     so greatlyoutnumber the men that those of us who are temperamentally andemotionally unfitted to become spinsters have to look for      wotnids     —ormates—on other worlds. It's quite legal and quite respectable. As amatter of fact, we even have schools specializing in alien culturesto expedite our activities. Our biggest problem is the Interstellarstatute forbidding us the use of local communications services andforbidding us to appear in public places. It was devised to facilitatethe prosecution of interstellar black marketeers, but we're subject toit, too, and have to contrive communications systems of our own.     But why were all the messages addressed to you?     They weren't messages. They were requisitions. I'm the ship's stockgirl.  <doc-sep>  Raiders of the Second Moon     By GENE ELLERMAN     A strange destiny had erased Noork's memory,     and had brought him to this tiny world—to     write an end to his first existence.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Summer 1945.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Beyond earth swings that airless pocked mass of fused rock and grayvolcanic dust that we know as Luna. Of this our naked eyes assure us.But of the smaller satellite, hidden forever from the mundane view byLuna's bulk, we know little.     Small is Sekk, that second moon, less than five hundred miles indiameter, but the period of its revolution is thirty two hours, and itsmeaner mass retains a breathable atmosphere. There is life on Sekk,life that centers around the sunken star-shaped cavity where an ovallake gleams softly in the depths. And the eleven radiating tips of thestarry abyss are valleys green with jungle growth.     In one of those green valleys the white savage that the Vasads calledNoork squatted in the ample crotch of a jungle giant and watched thetrail forty feet below. For down there moved alertly a golden skinnedgirl, her only weapons a puny polished bow of yellow wood and asheathed dagger.     Sight of the girl's flowing brown hair and the graceful femininecontours of her smooth-limbed body beneath its skin-halter and theinsignificant breech-clout, made his brow wrinkle with concentration.Not forever had he lived in this jungle world of valleys and raggedcliffs. Since he had learned the tongue of the hairy Vasads of forest,and the tongue of their gold-skinned leader, Gurn, the renegade, he hadconfirmed that belief.     For a huge gleaming bird had carried him in its talons to the top ofthe cliff above their valley and from the rock fire had risen to devourthe great bird. Somehow he had been flung clear and escaped the deathof the mysterious bird-thing. And in his delirium he had babbled thewords that caused the apish Vasads to name him Noork. Now he repeatedthem aloud.     New York, he said, good ol' New York.     The girl heard. She looked upward fearfully, her rounded bare arm goingback to the bow slung across her shoulder. Swiftly she fitted an arrowand stepped back against the friendly bole of a shaggy barked junglegiant. Noork grinned.     Tako, woman, he greeted her.     Tako, she replied fearfully. Who speaks to Tholon Sarna? Be youhunter or escaped slave?     A friend, said Noork simply. It was I who killed the spotted      narl     last night when it attacked you.     Doubtfully the girl put away her bow. Her fingers, however, were neverfar from the hilt of her hunting dagger.     Noork swung outward from his perch, and then downward along the ladderof limbs to her side. The girl exclaimed at his brown skin.     Your hair is the color of the sun! she said. Your garb is Vasad, yetyou speak the language of the true men. Her violet oddly slanting eyesopened yet wider. Who are you?     I am Noork, the man told her. For many days have I dwelt among thewild Vasads of the jungle with their golden-skinned chief, Gurn, formy friend.     The girl impulsively took a step nearer. Gurn! she cried. Is he talland strong? Has he a bracelet of golden discs linked together withhuman hair? Does he talk with his own shadow when he thinks?     That is Gurn, admitted Noork shortly. He is also an exile from thewalled city of Grath. The city rulers call him a traitor. He has toldme the reason. Perhaps you know it as well?     Indeed I do, cried Sarna. My brother said that we should no longermake slaves of the captured Zurans from the other valleys.     Noork smiled. I am glad he is your brother, he said simply.  <doc-sep>They walked, mother, father and the two children, smelling the smells,watching the birds bounce from wall to wall of the valley likescurrying pebbles and suddenly the father said a strange thing:     Remember?     Remember what? Sim lay cradled. Was it any effort for them to rememberwhen they'd lived only seven days!     The husband and wife looked at each other.     Was it only three days ago? said the woman, her body shaking, hereyes closing to think. I can't believe it. It is so unfair. Shesobbed, then drew her hand across her face and bit her parched lips.The wind played at her gray hair. Now is my turn to cry. An hour agoit was you!     An hour is half a life.     Come, she took her husband's arm. Let us look at everything, becauseit will be our last looking.     The sun'll be up in a few minutes, said the old man. We must turnback now.     Just one more moment, pleaded the woman.     The sun will catch us.     Let it catch me then!     You don't mean that.     I mean nothing, nothing at all, cried the woman.     The sun was coming fast. The green in the valley burnt away. Searingwind blasted from over the cliffs. Far away where sun bolts hammeredbattlements of cliff, the huge stone faces shook their contents; thoseavalanches not already powdered down, were now released and fell likemantles.     Dark! shouted the father. The girl sprang over the warm floor of thevalley, answering, her hair a black flag behind her. Hands full ofgreen fruits, she joined them.     The sun rimmed the horizon with flame, the air convulsed dangerouslywith it, and whistled.     The cave people bolted, shouting, picking up their fallen children,bearing vast loads of fruit and grass with them back to their deephideouts. In moments the valley was bare. Except for one small childsomeone had forgotten. He was running far out on the flatness, but hewas not strong enough, and the engulfing heat was drifting down fromthe cliffs even as he was half across the valley.     Flowers were burnt into effigies, grasses sucked back into rocks likesinged snakes, flower seeds whirled and fell in the sudden furnaceblast of wind, sown far into gullies and crannies, ready to blossom atsunset tonight, and then go to seed and die again.     Sim's father watched that child running, alone, out on the floor ofthe valley. He and his wife and Dark and Sim were safe in the mouth oftheir tunnel.     He'll never make it, said father. Do not watch him, woman. It's nota good thing to watch.     They turned away. All except Sim, whose eyes had caught a glint ofmetal far away. His heart hammered in him, and his eyes blurred.Far away, atop a low mountain, one of those metal seeds from spacereflected a dazzling ripple of light! It was like one of hisintra-embryo dreams fulfilled! A metal space seed, intact, undamaged,lying on a mountain! There was his future! There was his hopefor survival! There was where he would go in a few days, when hewas—strange thought—a grown man!     The sun plunged into the valley like molten lava.     The little running child screamed, the sun burned, and the screamingstopped.     Sim's mother walked painfully, with sudden age, down the tunnel,paused, reached up, broke off two last icicles that had formed duringthe night. She handed one to her husband, kept the other. We willdrink one last toast. To you, to the children.     To      you     , he nodded to her. To the children. They lifted theicicles. The warmth melted the ice down into their thirsty mouths.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the rationale behind the President's decisions regarding his communication with the public, as depicted in THE VALLEY?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the significance of the lockets in THE VALLEY and how do they relate to the different societies portrayed in the story? [SEP] <s>The brass exited wordlessly. Bettijean sighed noisily. Andy found hiscigarette dead and lit another. He fancied a tiny lever in his brainand he shifted gears to direct his thinking back into the properchannel. Abruptly his fatigue began to lift. He picked up the new pileof reports Bettijean had brought in.     She move around the desk and sat, noting the phone book he had used,studying the names he had crossed off. Did you learn anything? sheasked.     Andy coughed, trying to clear his raw throat. It's crazy, he said.From the Senate and House on down, I haven't found a singlegovernment worker sick.     I found a few, she said. Over in a Virginia hospital.     But I did find, Andy said, flipping through pages of his ownscrawl, a society matron and her social secretary, a whole flock ofoffice workers—business, not government—and new parents and newlyengaged girls and.... He shrugged.     Did you notice anything significant about those office workers?     Andy nodded. I was going to ask you the same, since I was justguessing. I hadn't had time to check it out.     Well, I checked some. Practically none of my victims came from bigoffices, either business or industry. They were all out of one andtwo-girl offices or small businesses.     That was my guess. And do you know that I didn't find a doctor,dentist or attorney?     Nor a single postal worker.     Andy tried to smile. One thing we do know. It's not a communicablething. Thank heaven for—     He broke off as a cute blonde entered and put stacks of reports beforeboth Andy and Bettijean. The girl hesitated, fidgeting, fingers to herteeth. Then, without speaking, she hurried out.     Andy stared at the top sheet and groaned. This may be something. Halfthe adult population of Aspen, Colorado, is down.     What? Bettijean frowned over the report in her hands. It's the samething—only not quite as severe—in Taos and Santa Fe, New Mexico.     Writers?     Mostly. Some artists, too, and musicians. And poets are among thehard hit.     This is insane, Andy muttered. Doctors and dentists arefine—writers and poets are sick. Make sense out of that.     Bettijean held up a paper and managed a confused smile. Here's acountry doctor in Tennessee. He doesn't even know what it's all about.Nobody's sick in his valley.     Somebody in our outer office is organized, Andy said, pulling at hiscigarette. Here're reports from a dozen military installations alllumped together.     What does it show?     Black-out. By order of somebody higher up—no medical releases. Mustmean they've got it. He scratched the growing stubble on his chin.If this were a fifth column setup, wouldn't the armed forces be thefirst hit?     Sure, Bettijean brightened, then sobered. Maybe not. The brasscould keep it secret if an epidemic hit an army camp. And they couldslap a control condition on any military area. But the panic will comefrom the general public.     Here's another batch, Andy said. Small college towns undertwenty-five thousand population. All hard hit.     Well, it's not split intellectually. Small colleges and small officesand writers get it. Doctors don't and dentists don't. But we can'ttell who's got it on the military bases.     And it's not geographical. Look, remember those two reports fromTennessee? That place where they voted on water bonds or something,everybody had it. But the country doctor in another section hadn'teven heard of it. Andy could only shake his head.     Bettijean heaved herself up from the chair and trudged back to theouter office. She returned momentarily with a tray of food. Putting apaper cup of coffee and a sandwich in front of Andy, she sat down andnibbled at her snack like an exhausted chipmunk.     Andy banged a fist at his desk again. Coffee splashed over the rim ofhis cup onto the clutter of papers. It's here, he said angrily.It's here somewhere, but we can't find it.     The answer?     Of course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drinkor wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear?What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists?What are we missing? What—  <doc-sep>Again they sat in the thick chairs before the wall of desks with thefaces of the council looking across it like defenders.     The pumps were beating, beating all through the room and the quiet.     The President was standing. He faced Michael and Mary, and seemed toset himself as though to deliver a blow, or to receive one.     Michael and Mary, he said, his voice struggling against a tightness,we've considered a long time concerning what is to be done with youand the report you brought back to us from the galaxy. He tookanother swallow of water. To protect the sanity of the people, we'vechanged your report. We've also decided that the people must beprotected from the possibility of your spreading the truth, as you didat the landing field. So, for the good of the people, you'll beisolated. All comforts will be given you. After all, in a sense, you      are     heroes and martyrs. Your scar tissue will be cultured as it hasbeen in the past, and you will stay in solitary confinement until thetime when, perhaps, we can migrate to another planet. We feel thathope must not be destroyed. And so another expedition is being sentout. It may be that, in time, on another planet, you'll be able totake your place in our society.     He paused. Is there anything you wish to say?     Yes, there is.     Proceed.     Michael stared straight at the President. After a long moment, heraised his hand to the tiny locket at his throat.     Perhaps you remember, he said, the lockets given to every member ofthe expedition the night before we left. I still have mine. He raisedit. So does my wife. They were designed to kill the wearer instantlyand painlessly if he were ever faced with pain or a terror he couldn'tendure.     The President was standing again. A stir ran along the barricade ofdesks.     We can't endure the city, went on Michael, or its life and the waysof the people. He glanced along the line of staring faces.     If what I think you're about to say is true, said the President in ashaking voice, it would have been better if you'd never been born.     Let's face facts, Mr. President. We were      born     and haven'tdied—yet. A pause. And we can kill ourselves right here before youreyes. It'd be painless to us. We'd be unconscious. But there would behorrible convulsions and grimaces. Our bodies would be twisted andtorn. They'd thresh about. The deaths you saw in the picture happeneda long time ago, in outer space. You all went into hysterics at thesight of them. Our deaths now would be close and terrible to see.     The President staggered as though about to faint. There was a stirringand muttering and a jumping up along the desks. Voices cried out, inanger and fear. Arms waved and fists pounded. Hands clasped andunclasped and clawed at collars, and there was a pell mell rushingaround the President. They yelled at each other and clasped each otherby the shoulders, turned away and back again, and then suddenly becamevery still.     Now they began to step down from the raised line of desks, thePresident leading them, and came close to the man and woman, gatheringaround them in a wide half circle.     Michael and Mary were holding the lockets close to their throats. Thehalf circle of people, with the President at its center was movingcloser and closer. They were sweaty faces and red ones and dry whiteones and hands were raised to seize them.     Michael put his arm around Mary's waist. He felt the trembling in herbody and the waiting for death.     Stop! he said quietly.     They halted, in slight confusion, barely drawing back.     If you want to see us die—just come a step closer.... And rememberwhat'll happen to you.     The faces began turning to each other and there was an undertone ofmuttering and whispering. A ghastly thing.... Instant.... Nothing todo.... Space's broken their minds.... They'll do it.... Eyes'remad.... What can we do?... What?... The sweaty faces, the cold whiteones, the flushed hot ones: all began to turn to the President, whowas staring at the two before him like a man watching himself die in amirror.     I command you, he suddenly said, in a choked voice, to—to give methose—lockets! It's your—duty!     We've only one duty, Mr. President, said Michael sharply. Toourselves.     You're sick. Give yourselves over to us. We'll help you.     We've made our choice. We want an answer. Quickly! Now!     The President's body sagged. What—what is it you want?     Michael threw the words. To go beyond the force fields of the city.To go far out onto the Earth and live as long as we can, and then todie a natural death.     The half circle of faces turned to each other and muttered andwhispered again. In the name of God.... Let them go.... Contaminateus.... Like animals.... Get them out of here....      Let     them befinished.... Best for us all.... And them....     There was a turning to the President again and hands thrusting himforward to within one step of Michael and Mary, who were standingthere close together, as though attached.     Haltingly he said, Go. Please go. Out onto the Earth—to die. You      will     die. The Earth is dead out there. You'll never see the city oryour people again.     We want a ground car, said Michael. And supplies.     A ground car, repeated the President. And—supplies.... Yes.     You can give us an escort, if you want to, out beyond the first rangeof mountains.     There will be no escort, said the President firmly. No one has beenallowed to go out upon the Earth or to fly above it for many hundredsof years. We know it's there. That's enough. We couldn't bear thesight of it. He took a step back. And we can't bear the sight of youany longer. Go now. Quickly!     Michael and Mary did not let go of the lockets as they watched thehalf circle of faces move backward, staring, as though at corpses thatshould sink to the floor.  <doc-sep>  Transcriber's Note:     This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science Fiction June 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.         THE VALLEY       By Richard Stockham       Illustrated by Ed Emsh         If you can't find it countless millions of miles in space,come back to Earth. You might find it just on the other sideof the fence—where the grass is always greener.        The Ship dove into Earth's sea of atmosphere like a great, silverfish.     Inside the ship, a man and woman stood looking down at the expanse ofland that curved away to a growing horizon. They saw the yellow groundcracked like a dried skin; and the polished stone of the mountains andthe seas that were shrunken away in the dust. And they saw how thecity circled the sea, as a circle of men surround a water hole in adesert under a blazing sun.     The ship's radio cried out. You've made it! Thank God! You've madeit!     Another voice, shaking, said, President—Davis is—overwhelmed. Hecan't go on. On his behalf and on behalf of all the people—with ourhope that was almost dead, we greet you. A pause. Please come in!     The voice was silent. The air screamed against the hull of the ship.     I can't tell them, said the man.     Please come in! said the radio. Do you hear me?     The woman looked up at the man. You've got to Michael!     Two thousand years. From one end of the galaxy to the other. Not onegrain of dust we can live on. Just Earth. And it's burned to acinder.     A note of hysteria stabbed into the radio voice. Are you all right?Stand by! We're sending a rescue ship.     They've got a right to know what we've found, said the woman. Theysent us out. They've waited so long—.     He stared into space. It's hopeless. If we'd found another planetthey could live on, they'd do the same as they've done here.     He touched the tiny golden locket that hung around his neck. Rightnow, I could press this and scratch myself and the whole farce wouldbe over.     No. A thousand of us died. You've got to think of them.     We'll go back out into space, he said. It's clean out there. I'mtired. Two thousand years of reincarnation.     She spoke softly. We've been together for a long time. I've lovedyou. I've asked very little. But I need to stay on Earth. Please,Michael.     He looked at her for a moment. Then he flipped a switch. Milky Way toEarth. Never mind the rescue ship. We're all right. We're coming in.  <doc-sep>Ud tasted the scent of a man and sluggishly rolled his bullet head fromshoulder to shoulder as he tried to catch sight of his ages-old enemy.For between the hairy quarter-ton beast men of the jungles of Sekk andthe golden men of the valley cities who enslaved them there was eternalwar.     A growl rumbled deep in the hairy half-man's chest. He could see noenemy and yet the scent grew stronger with every breath.     You hunt too near the lake, called a voice. The demons of the waterwill trap you.     Ud's great nostrils quivered. He tasted the odor of a friend mingledwith that of a strange Zuran. He squatted.     It's Noork, he grunted. Why do I not see you?     I have stolen the skin of a demon, answered the invisible man. Go toGurn. Tell him to fear the demons no longer. Tell him the Misty Onescan be trapped and skinned.     Why you want their skins? Ud scratched his hairy gray skull.     Go to save Gurn's ... and here Noork was stumped for words. To savehis father's woman woman, he managed at last. Father's woman womancalled Sarna.     And the misty blob of nothingness was gone again, its goal now themarshy lowlands that extended upward perhaps a thousand feet from thejungle's ragged fringe to end at last in the muddy shallows of the Lakeof Uzdon.     To Noork it seemed that all the world must be like these savage junglefastnesses of the twelve valleys and their central lake. He knew thatthe giant bird had carried him from some other place that his batteredbrain could not remember, but to him it seemed incredible that mencould live elsewhere than in a jungle valley.     But Noork was wrong. The giant bird that he had ridden into the depthsof Sekk's fertile valleys had come from a far different world. And theother bird, for which Noork had been searching when he came upon thegolden-skinned girl, was from another world also.     The other bird had come from space several days before that of Noork,the Vasads had told him, and it had landed somewhere within the landof sunken valleys. Perhaps, thought Noork, the bird had come from thesame valley that had once been his home. He would find the bird andperhaps then he could remember better who he had been.     So it was, ironically enough, that Stephen Dietrich—whose memory wasgone completely—again took up the trail of Doctor Karl Von Mark, lastof the Axis criminals at large. The trail that had led the red-hairedyoung American flier from rebuilding Greece into Africa and the hiddenvalley where Doctor Von Mark worked feverishly to restore the crumbledstructure of Nazidom, and then had sent him hurtling spaceward in thesecond of the Doctor's crude space-ships was now drawing to an end.The Doctor and the young American pilot were both trapped here on thislittle blob of cosmic matter that hides beyond the Moon's cratered bulk.     The Doctor's ship had landed safely on Sekk, the wily scientistpreferring the lesser gravity of this fertile world to that of thelifeless Moon in the event that he returned again to Earth, butDietrich's spacer had crashed.     Two words linked Noork with the past, the two words that the Vasadshad slurred into his name: New York. And the battered wrist watch, itscrystal and hands gone, were all that remained of his Earthly garb.  <doc-sep>   AIDE MEMOIRE     BY KEITH LAUMER     The Fustians looked like turtles—but     they could move fast when they chose!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Across the table from Retief, Ambassador Magnan rustled a stiff sheetof parchment and looked grave.     This aide memoire, he said, was just handed to me by the CulturalAttache. It's the third on the subject this week. It refers to thematter of sponsorship of Youth groups—     Some youths, Retief said. Average age, seventy-five.     The Fustians are a long-lived people, Magnan snapped. These mattersare relative. At seventy-five, a male Fustian is at a trying age—     That's right. He'll try anything—in the hope it will maim somebody.     Precisely the problem, Magnan said. But the Youth Movement isthe important news in today's political situation here on Fust. Andsponsorship of Youth groups is a shrewd stroke on the part of theTerrestrial Embassy. At my suggestion, well nigh every member of themission has leaped at the opportunity to score a few p—that is, cementrelations with this emergent power group—the leaders of the future.You, Retief, as Councillor, are the outstanding exception.     I'm not convinced these hoodlums need my help in organizing theirrumbles, Retief said. Now, if you have a proposal for a pest controlgroup—     To the Fustians this is no jesting matter, Magnan cut in. Thisgroup— he glanced at the paper—known as the Sexual, Cultural, andAthletic Recreational Society, or SCARS for short, has been awaitingsponsorship for a matter of weeks now.     Meaning they want someone to buy them a clubhouse, uniforms, equipmentand anything else they need to complete their sexual, cultural andathletic development, Retief said.     If we don't act promptly, Magnan said, the Groaci Embassy may wellanticipate us. They're very active here.     That's an idea, said Retief. Let 'em. After awhile they'll go brokeinstead of us.     Nonsense. The group requires a sponsor. I can't actually order you tostep forward. However.... Magnan let the sentence hang in the air.Retief raised one eyebrow.     For a minute there, he said, I thought you were going to make apositive statement.  <doc-sep>I took Verana's hand and led her down the long corridor, retracing oursteps.     We had walked not more than two yards when the rest of the doorsopened soundlessly.     Verana's hand flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp.     Six doors were now open. The only two that remained closed were theones that the Kanes had unwillingly entered.     This time, no invisible hand thrust us into any of the rooms.     I entered the nearest one. Verana followed hesitantly.     The walls of the large room were lined with shelves containingthousands of variously colored boxes and bottles. A table and fourchairs were located in the center of the green, plasticlike floor. Eachchair had no back, only a curving platform with a single supportingcolumn.     Ed! I joined Verana on the other side of the room. She pointed atrembling finger at some crude drawings. The things in this room arefood!     The drawings were so simple that anyone could have understood them.The first drawing portrayed a naked man and woman removing boxes andbottles from the shelves. The second picture showed the couple openingthe containers. The third showed the man eating from one of the boxesand the woman drinking from a bottle.       Let's see how it tastes, I said.     I selected an orange-colored box. The lid dissolved at the touch of myfingers.     The only contents were small cubes of a soft orange substance.     I tasted a small piece.     Chocolate! Just like chocolate!     Verana chose a nearby bottle and drank some of the bluish liquid.     Milk! she exclaimed.     Perhaps we'd better look at the other rooms, I told her.  <doc-sep>In their rooms, Michael and Mary were talking through the hours, andwaiting. All around them were fragile, form-fitting chairs andtranslucent walls and a ceiling that, holding the light of the sunwhen they had first seen it, was now filled with moonlight.     Standing at a circular window, ten feet in diameter, Michael saw, farbelow, the lights of the city extending into the darkness along theshoreline of the sea.     We should have delivered our message by radio, he said, and goneback into space.     You could probably still go, she said quietly.     He came and stood beside her. I couldn't stand being out in space, oranywhere, without you.     She looked up at him. We could go out into the wilderness, Michael,outside the force walls. We could go far away.     He turned from her. It's all dead. What would be the use?     I came from the Earth, she said quietly. And I've got to go back toit. Space is so cold and frightening. Steel walls and blackness andthe rockets and the little pinpoints of light. It's a prison.     But to die out there in the desert, in that dust. Then he paused andlooked away from her. We're crazy—talking as though we had achoice.     Maybe they'll have to      give     us a choice.     What're you talking about?     They went into hysterics at the sight of those bodies in the picture.Those young bodies that didn't die of old age.     He waited.     They can't stand the sight of people dying violently.     Her hand went to her throat and touched the tiny locket.     These lockets were given to us so we'd have a choice betweensuffering or quick painless death.... We still have a choice.     He touched the locket at his own throat and was very still for a longmoment. So we threaten to kill ourselves, before their eyes. Whatwould it do to them?     He was still for a long time. Sometimes, Mary, I think I don't knowyou at all. A pause. And so now you and I are back where we started.Which'll it be, space or Earth?     Michael. Her voice trembled. I—I don't know how to say this.     He waited, frowning, watching her intently.     I'm—going to have a child.     His face went blank.     Then he stepped forward and took her by the shoulders. He saw thesoftness there in her face; saw her eyes bright as though the sun wereshining in them; saw a flush in her cheeks, as though she had beenrunning. And suddenly his throat was full.     No, he said thickly. I can't believe it.     It's true.     He held her for a long time, then he turned his eyes aside.     Yes, I can see it is.     I—I can't put into words why I let it happen, Michael.     He shook his head. I don't know—what to—to say. It's soincredible.     Maybe—I got so—tired—just seeing the two of us over and over againand the culturing of the scar tissue, for twenty centuries. Maybe thatwas it. It was just—something I felt I      had     to do. Some—      real     lifeagain. Something new. I felt a need to produce something out ofmyself. It all started way out in space, while we were getting closeto the solar system. I began to wonder if we'd ever get out of theship alive or if we'd ever see a sunset again or a dawn or the nightor morning like we'd seen on Earth—so—so long ago. And then I      had     to let it happen. It was a vague and strange thing. There wassomething forcing me. But at the same time I wanted it, too. I seemedto be willing it, seemed to be feeling it was a necessary thing. Shepaused, frowning. I didn't stop to think—it would be like this.     Such a thing, he said, smiling grimly, hasn't happened on Earth forthree thousand years. I can remember in school, reading in the historybooks, how the whole Earth was overcrowded and how the food and waterhad to be rationed and then how the laws were passed forbidding birthand after that how the people died and there weren't any more babiesborn, until at last there was plenty of what the Earth had to give,for everyone. And then the news was broken to everyone about theculturing of the scar tissue, and there were a few dissenters but theywere soon conditioned out of their dissension and the population wasstabilized. He paused. After all this past history, I don't thinkthe council could endure what you've done.     No, she said quietly. I don't think they could.     And so this will be just for      us     . He took her in his arms. If Iremember rightly, this is a traditional action. A pause. Now I'll gowith you out onto the Earth—if we can swing it. When we get outsidethe city, or if we do—Well, we'll see.     They were very still together and then he turned and stood by thewindow and looked down upon the city and she came and stood besidehim.  <doc-sep>Bbulas slid the ornate headdress over his antennae, which, alreadygilded and jeweled, at once seemed to become a part of it. He lookedpretty damn silly, Skkiru thought, at the same time conscious of hisown appearance—which was, although picturesque enough to delightromantic Terrestrial hearts, sufficiently wretched to charm the mosthardened sadist.     Hurry up, Skkiru, Bbulas said. They mustn't suspect the existence ofthe city underground or we're finished before we've started.     For my part, I wish we'd never started, Skkiru grumbled. What waswrong with our old culture, anyway?     That was intended as a rhetorical question, but Bbulas answered itanyway. He always answered questions; it had never seemed to penetratehis mind that school-days were long since over.     I've told you a thousand times that our old culture was too much likethe Terrans' own to be of interest to them, he said, with affectedweariness. After all, most civilized societies are basically similar;it is only primitive societies that differ sharply, one from theother—and we have to be different to attract Earthmen. They're prettychoosy. You've got to give them what they want, and that's what theywant. Now take up your post on the edge of the field, try to lookhungry, and remember this isn't for you or for me, but for Snaddra.     For Snaddra, Larhgan said, placing her hand over her anterior heartin a gesture which, though devout on Earth—or so the fictapes seemedto indicate—was obscene on Snaddra, owing to the fact that certainessential organs were located in different areas in the Snaddrath thanin the corresponding Terrestrial life-form. Already the Terrestrialinfluence was corrupting her, Skkiru thought mournfully. She had beensuch a nice girl, too.     We may never meet on equal terms again, Skkiru, she told him, with along, soulful glance that made his hearts sink down to his quiveringtoes, but I promise you there will never be anyone else for me—andI hope that knowledge will inspire you to complete cooperation withBbulas.     If that doesn't, Bbulas said, I have other methods of inspiration.     All right, Skkiru answered sulkily. I'll go to the edge of thefield, and I'll speak broken Inter-galactic, and I'll forsake my normalhabits and customs, and I'll even      beg     . But I don't have to like doingit, and I don't intend to like doing it.     All three of Larhgan's eyes fuzzed with emotion. I'm proud of you,Skkiru, she said brokenly.     Bbulas sniffed. The three of them floated up to ground level in atriple silence.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the significance of the lockets in THE VALLEY and how do they relate to the different societies portrayed in the story?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in Jack of No Trades? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>III     Oh, yes, and Jamieson had a feeble paper on what he calledindividualization in marine worms. Barr, have you ever thought muchabout the larger aspects of the problem of individuality?     Jack jumped slightly. He had let his thoughts wander very far.     Not especially, sir, he mumbled.     The house was still. A few minutes after the professor's arrival,Mrs. Kesserich had gone off with an anxious glance at Jack. He knewwhy and wished he could reassure her that he would not mention theirconversation to the professor.     Kesserich had spent perhaps a half hour briefing him on the moreimportant papers delivered at the conferences. Then, almost as ifit were a teacher's trick to show up a pupil's inattention, he hadsuddenly posed this question about individuality.     You know what I mean, of course, Kesserich pressed. The factors thatmake you you, and me me.     Heredity and environment, Jack parroted like a freshman.     Kesserich nodded. Suppose—this is just speculation—that we couldcontrol heredity and environment. Then we could re-create the sameindividual at will.     Jack felt a shiver go through him. To get exactly the same pattern ofhereditary traits. That'd be far beyond us.     What about identical twins? Kesserich pointed out. And then there'sparthenogenesis to be considered. One might produce a duplicate of themother without the intervention of the male. Although his voice hadgrown more idly speculative, Kesserich seemed to Jack to be smilingsecretly. There are many examples in the lower animal forms, to saynothing of the technique by which Loeb caused a sea urchin to reproducewith no more stimulus than a salt solution.     Jack felt the hair rising on his neck. Even then you wouldn't getexactly the same pattern of hereditary traits.     Not if the parent were of very pure stock? Not if there were somespecial technique for selecting ova that would reproduce all themother's traits?     But environment would change things, Jack objected. The duplicatewould be bound to develop differently.     Is environment so important? Newman tells about a pair of identicaltwins separated from birth, unaware of each other's existence. They metby accident when they were twenty-one. Each was a telephone repairman.Each had a wife the same age. Each had a baby son. And each had a foxterrier called 'Trixie.' That's without trying to make environmentssimilar. But suppose you did try. Suppose you saw to it that each ofthem had exactly the same experiences at the same times....     For a moment it seemed to Jack that the room was dimming and wavering,becoming a dark pool in which the only motionless thing was Kesserich'ssphinx-like face.     Well, we've escaped quite far enough from Jamieson's marine worms,the biologist said, all brisk again. He said it as if Jack were theone who had led the conversation down wild and unprofitable channels.Let's get on to your project. I want to talk it over now, because Iwon't have any time for it tomorrow.     Jack looked at him blankly.     Tomorrow I must attend to a very important matter, the biologistexplained.  <doc-sep>   Jack of No Trades     By EVELYN E. SMITH     Illustrated by CAVAT     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy October 1955.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright     on this publication was renewed.]        I was psick of Psi powers, not having any. Or didn't I? Maybe they'dpsee otherwise psomeday!        I walked into the dining room and collided with a floating mass offabric, which promptly draped itself over me like a sentient shroud.     Oh, for God's sake, Kevin! my middle brother's voice came muffledthrough the folds. If you can't help, at least don't hinder!     I managed to struggle out of the tablecloth, even though it seemed tobe trying to wrap itself around me. When Danny got excited, he lost hismental grip.     I could help, I yelled as soon as I got my head free, if anybodywould let me and, what's more, I could set the table a damn sightfaster by hand than you do with 'kinesis.     Just then Father appeared at the head of the table. He could as easilyhave walked downstairs as teleported, but I belonged to a family ofexhibitionists. And Father tended to show off as if he were still akid. Not that he looked his age—he was big and blond, like Danny andTim and me, and could have passed for our older brother.     Boys, boys! he reproved us. Danny, you ought to be ashamed ofyourself—picking on poor Kev.     Even if it hadn't been Danny's fault, he would still have been blamed.     Nobody was ever supposed to raise a voice or a hand or a thought topoor afflicted Kev, because nature had picked on me enough. And thenicer everybody was to me, the nastier I became, since only when theylost their tempers could I get—or so I believed—their true attitudetoward me.     How else could I tell?     Sorry, fella, Dan apologized to me. The tablecloth spread itself outon the table. Wrinkles, he grumbled to himself. Wrinkles. And I hadit so nice and smooth before. Mother will be furious.     If she were going to be furious, she'd be furious already, Fatherreminded him sadly. It must be tough to be married to a deep-probetelepath, I thought, and I felt a sudden wave of sympathy for him. Itwas so seldom I got the chance to feel sorry for anyone except myself.But I think you'll find she understands.     She knows, all right, Danny remarked as he went on into the kitchen,but I'm not sure she always understands.     I was surprised to find him so perceptive on the abstract level,because he wasn't what you might call an understanding person, either.  <doc-sep>With a start, Jack remembered that it was Mrs. Kesserich telling himall this.     She went on, Martin's love directed his every move. He was building ahome for himself and Mary, and in his mind he was building a wonderfulfuture for them as well—not vaguely, if you know Martin, but year byyear, month by month. This winter, he'd plan, they would visit BuenosAires, next summer they would sail down the inland passage and he wouldteach Mary Hungarian for their trip to Buda-Pesth the year after, wherehe would occupy a chair at the university for a few months ... and soon. Finally the time for their marriage drew near. Martin had beenaway. His research was keeping him very busy—     Jack broke in with, Wasn't that about the time he did his definitivework on growth and fertilization?     Mrs. Kesserich nodded with solemn appreciation in the gatheringdarkness. But now he was coming home, his work done. It was earlyevening, very chilly, but Hani and Hilda felt they had to ride down tothe station to meet their brother. And although she dreaded it, Maryrode with them, for she knew how delighted he would be at her canteringto the puffing train and his running up to lift her down from thesaddle to welcome him home.     Of course there was Martin's luggage to be considered, so the stationwagon had to be sent down for that. She looked defiantly at Jack. Idrove the station wagon. I was Martin's laboratory assistant.     She paused. It was almost dark, but there was still a white coldline of sky to the west. Hani and Hilda, with Mary between them, werewaiting on their horses at the top of the hill that led down to thestation. The train had whistled and its headlight was graying thegravel of the crossing.     Suddenly Mary's horse squealed and plunged down the hill. Hani andHilda followed—to try to catch her, they said, but they didn't managethat, only kept her horse from veering off. Mary never screamed, but asher horse reared on the tracks, I saw her face in the headlight's glare.     Martin must have guessed, or at least feared what had happened, for hewas out of the train and running along the track before it stopped. Infact, he was the first to kneel down beside Mary—I mean, what had beenMary—and was holding her all bloody and shattered in his arms.     A door slammed. There were steps in the hall. Mrs. Kesserich stiffenedand was silent. Jack turned.     The blur of a face hung in the doorway to the hall—a seemingly young,sensitive, suavely handsome face with aristocratic jaw. Then there wasa click and the lights flared up and Jack saw the close-cropped grayhair and the lines around the eyes and nostrils, while the sensitivemouth grew sardonic. Yet the handsomeness stayed, and somehow theyouth, too, or at least a tremendous inner vibrancy.     Hello, Barr, Martin Kesserich said, ignoring his wife.     The great biologist had come home.  <doc-sep>Suddenly he felt a surge of relief. He had noticed that the paper wasyellow and brittle-edged.     Why are you so interested in old newspapers? he asked.     I wouldn't call day-before-yesterday's paper old, the girl objected,pointing at the dateline: July 20, 1933.     You're trying to joke, Jack told her.     No, I'm not.     But it's 1953.     Now it's you who are joking.     But the paper's yellow.     The paper's always yellow.     He laughed uneasily. Well, if you actually think it's 1933, perhapsyou're to be envied, he said, with a sardonic humor he didn't quitefeel. Then you can't know anything about the Second World War, ortelevision, or the V-2s, or Bikini bathing suits, or the atomic bomb,or—     Stop! She had sprung up and retreated around her chair, white-faced.I don't like what you're saying.     But—     No, please! Jokes that may be quite harmless on the mainland sounddifferent here.     I'm really not joking, he said after a moment.     She grew quite frantic at that. I can show you all last week's papers!I can show you magazines and other things. I can prove it!     She started toward the house. He followed. He felt his heart begin topound.     At the white door she paused, looking worriedly down the road. Jackthought he could hear the faint      chug     of a motorboat. She pushed openthe door and he followed her inside. The small-windowed room was darkafter the sunlight. Jack got an impression of solid old furniture, afireplace with brass andirons.     Flash! croaked a gritty voice. After their disastrous break daybefore yesterday, stocks are recovering. Leading issues....     Jack realized that he had started and had involuntarily put his armaround the girl's shoulders. At the same time he noticed that the voicewas coming from the curved brown trumpet of an old-fashioned radioloudspeaker.     The girl didn't pull away from him. He turned toward her. Although hergray eyes were on him, her attention had gone elsewhere.     I can hear the car. They're coming back. They won't like it thatyou're here.     All right they won't like it.     Her agitation grew. No, you must go.     I'll come back tomorrow, he heard himself saying.     Flash! It looks as if the World Economic Conference may soon adjourn,mouthing jeers at old Uncle Sam who is generally referred to as UncleShylock.     Jack felt a numbness on his neck. The room seemed to be darkening, thegirl growing stranger still.     You must go before they see you.     Flash! Wiley Post has just completed his solo circuit of the Globe,after a record-breaking flight of 7 days, 18 hours and 45 minutes.Asked how he felt after the energy-draining feat, Post quipped....  <doc-sep>He burned off some rubber finding a slot in the park-lot. He strodeunder a sign reading      Public Youth Center No. 947     and walked casuallyto the reception desk, where a thin man with sergeant's stripes and apansy haircut looked out of a pile of paperwork.     Where you think you're going, my pretty lad?     Wayne grinned down. Higher I hope than a typewriter jockey.     Well, the sergeant said. How tough we are this evening. You have apass, killer?     Wayne Seton. Draft call.     Oh. The sergeant checked his name off a roster and nodded. He wroteon a slip of paper, handed the pass to Wayne. Go to the Armory andcheck out whatever your lusting little heart desires. Then report toCaptain Jack, room 307.     Thanks, sarge dear, Wayne said and took the elevator up to the Armory.     A tired fat corporal with a naked head blinked up at tall Wayne.Finally he said, So make up your mind, bud. Think you're the only kidbreaking out tonight?     Hold your teeth, pop, Wayne said, coolly and slowly lighting acigarette. I've decided.     The corporal's little eyes studied Wayne with malicious amusement.Take it from a vet, bud. Sooner you go the better. It's a big city andyou're starting late. You can get a cat, not a mouse, and some babesare clever hellcats in a dark alley.     You must be a genius, Wayne said. A corporal with no hair and stilla counterboy. I'm impressed. I'm all ears, Dad.     The corporal sighed wearily. You can get that balloon headventilated, bud, and good.     Wayne's mouth twitched. He leaned across the counter toward theshelves and racks of weapons. I'll remember that crack when I getmy commission. He blew smoke in the corporal's face. Bring me aSmith and Wesson .38, shoulder holster with spring-clip. And throw ina Skelly switchblade for kicks—the six-inch disguised job with thedouble springs.     The corporal waddled back with the revolver and the switchbladedisguised in a leather comb case. He checked them on a receipt ledger,while Wayne examined the weapons, broke open the revolver, twirled thecylinder and pushed cartridges into the waiting chamber. He slippedthe knife from the comb case, flicked open the blade and stared at itsgleam in the buttery light as his mouth went dry and the refractedincandescence of it trickled on his brain like melted ice, exciting andscary.     He removed his leather jacket. He slung the holster under his leftarmpit and tested the spring clip release several times, feeling theway the serrated butt dropped into his wet palm. He put his jacketback on and the switchblade case in his pocket. He walked toward theelevator and didn't look back as the corporal said, Good luck, tiger.     Captain Jack moved massively. The big stone-walled office, alive withstuffed lion and tiger and gunracks, seemed to grow smaller. CaptainJack crossed black-booted legs and whacked a cane at the floor. It hada head shaped like a grinning bear.     Wayne felt the assured smile die on his face. Something seemed toshrink him. If he didn't watch himself he'd begin feeling like a peaamong bowling balls.     Contemptuously amused little eyes glittered at Wayne from a shaggyhead. Shoulders hunched like stuffed sea-bags.     Wayne Seton, said Captain Jack as if he were discussing somethingin a bug collection. Well, well, you're really fired up aren't you?Really going out to eat 'em. Right, punk?     Yes, sir, Wayne said. He ran wet hands down the sides of his chinos.His legs seemed sheathed in lead as he bit inwardly at shrinking fearthe way a dog snaps at a wound. You big overblown son, he thought, I'llshow you but good who is a punk. They made a guy wait and sweat untilhe screamed. They kept a guy on the fire until desire leaped in him,ran and billowed and roared until his brain was filled with it. Butthat wasn't enough. If this muscle-bound creep was such a big boy,what was he doing holding down a desk?     Well, this is it, punk. You go the distance or start a butterflycollection.     The cane darted up. A blade snicked from the end and stopped an inchfrom Wayne's nose. He jerked up a shaky hand involuntarily and clampeda knuckle-ridged gag to his gasping mouth.     Captain Jack chuckled. All right, superboy. He handed Wayne hispasscard. Curfew's off, punk, for 6 hours. You got 6 hours to makeout.     Yes, sir.     Your beast is primed and waiting at the Four Aces Club on the WestSide. Know where that is, punk?     No, sir, but I'll find it fast.     Sure you will, punk, smiled Captain Jack. She'll be wearing yellowslacks and a red shirt. Black hair, a cute trick. She's with a heftypsycho who eats punks for breakfast. He's butchered five people.They're both on top of the Undesirable list, Seton. They got to go andthey're your key to the stars.     Yes, sir, Wayne said.     So run along and make out, punk, grinned Captain Jack.  <doc-sep>He was halfway across the lawn before he realized the terror into whichthe grating radio voice had thrown him.     He leaped for the branch over-hanging the fence, vaulted up with therisky help of a foot on the barbed top. A surprised squirrel, lackingtime to make its escape up the trunk, sprang to the ground ahead ofhim. With terrible suddenness, two steel-jawed semicircles clankedtogether just over the squirrel's head. Jack landed with one foot toeither side of the sprung trap, while the squirrel darted off with asqueak.     Jack plunged down the slope to the rocky spine and ran across it, sprayfrom the rising waves spattering him to the waist. Panting now, hestumbled up into the oaks and undergrowth of the first island, foughthis way through it, finally reached the silent cove. He loosed the lineof the      Annie O.     , dragged it as near to the cove's mouth as he could,plunged knee-deep in freezing water to give it a final shove, scrambledaboard, snatched up the boathook and punched at the rocks.     As soon as the      Annie O.     was nosing out of the cove into the crosswaves, he yanked up the sail. The freshening wind filled it and sentthe sloop heeling over, with inches of white water over the lee rail,and plunging ahead.     For a long while, Jack was satisfied to think of nothing but the windand the waves and the sail and speed and danger, to have all hisattention taken up balancing one against the other, so that he wouldn'thave to ask himself what year it was and whether time was an illusion,and wonder about flappers and hidden traps.     When he finally looked back at the island, he was amazed to see howtiny it had grown, as distant as the mainland.     Then he saw a gray motorboat astern. He watched it as it slowlyovertook him. It was built like a lifeboat, with a sturdy low cabin inthe bow and wheel amidship. Whoever was at the wheel had long gray hairthat whipped in the wind. The longer he looked, the surer he was thatit was a woman wearing a lace dress. Something that stuck up inchesover the cabin flashed darkly beside her. Only when she lifted it tothe roof of the cabin did it occur to him that it might be a rifle.     But just then the motorboat swung around in a turn that sent wavesdrenching over it, and headed back toward the island. He watched it fora minute in wonder, then his attention was jolted by an angry hail.     Three fishing smacks, also headed toward town, were about to crosshis bow. He came around into the wind and waited with shaking sail,watching a man in a lumpy sweater shake a fist at him. Then he turnedand gratefully followed the dark, wide, fanlike sterns and age-yellowedsails.  <doc-sep>He'd noticed the dewed silver pitcher, but only now realized histhirst. Yet when she handed him a glass, he held it untasted and saidawkwardly, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Jack Barry.     She stared at his outstretched right hand, slowly extended her owntoward it, shook it up and down exactly once, then quickly dropped it.     He chuckled and gulped some lemonade. I'm a biology student. Beenworking at Wood's Hole the first part of the summer. But now I'm hereto do research in marine ecology—that's sort of sea-life patterns—ofthe in-shore islands. Under the direction of Professor Kesserich. Youknow about him, of course?     She shook her head.     Probably the greatest living biologist, he was proud to informher. Human physiology as well. Tremendous geneticist. In a classwith Carlson and Jacques Loeb. Martin Kesserich—he lives over thereat town. I'm staying with him. You ought to have heard of him. Hegrinned. Matter of fact, I'd never have met you if it hadn't been forMrs. Kesserich.     The girl looked puzzled.     Jack explained, The old boy's been off to Europe on some conferences,won't be back for a couple days more. But I was to get started anyhow.When I went out this morning Mrs. Kesserich—she's a drab sort ofperson—said to me, 'Don't try to sail to the farther islands.' So, ofcourse, I had to. By the way, you still haven't told me your name.     Mary Alice Pope, she said, speaking slowly and with an odd wonder, asif she were saying it for the first time.     You're pretty shy, aren't you?     How would I know?     The question stopped Jack. He couldn't think of anything to say to thisstrangely attractive girl dressed almost like a flapper.     Will you sit down? she asked him gravely.     The rattan chair sighed under his weight. He made another effort totalk. I'll bet you'll be glad when summer's over.     Why?     So you'll be able to go back to the mainland.     But I never go to the mainland.     You mean you stay out here all winter? he asked incredulously, hismind filled with a vision of snow and frozen spray and great gray waves.     Oh, yes. We get all our supplies on hand before winter. My aunts arevery capable. They don't always wear long lace dresses. And now I helpthem.     But that's impossible! he said with sudden sympathetic anger. Youcan't be shut off this way from people your own age!     You're the first one I ever met. She hesitated. I never saw a boy ora man before, except in movies.     You're joking!     No, it's true.     But why are they doing it to you? he demanded, leaning forward. Whyare they inflicting this loneliness on you, Mary?  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in Jack of No Trades?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is Tim's position within the family dynamic in Jack of No Trades? [SEP] <s>I smiled at him gratefully; he was the only member of my family whoreally seemed to like me in spite of my handicap. It won't work, Tim.I know you're trying to be kind, but—     He's not saying it just to be kind, my mother put in. He means it.Not that I want to arouse false hopes, Kevin, she added with grimscrupulousness. Tim's awfully young yet and I wouldn't trust hisextracurricular prognostications too far.     Nonetheless, I couldn't help feeling a feeble renewal of old hopes.After all, young or not, Tim was a hell of a good prognosticator; hewouldn't have risen so rapidly to the position he held in the WeatherBureau if he hadn't been pretty near tops in foreboding.     Mother smiled sadly at my thoughts, but I didn't let that discourageme. As Danny had said, she      knew     but she didn't really      understand     .Nobody, for all of his or her psi power, really understood me.  <doc-sep>   Jack of No Trades     By EVELYN E. SMITH     Illustrated by CAVAT     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy October 1955.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright     on this publication was renewed.]        I was psick of Psi powers, not having any. Or didn't I? Maybe they'dpsee otherwise psomeday!        I walked into the dining room and collided with a floating mass offabric, which promptly draped itself over me like a sentient shroud.     Oh, for God's sake, Kevin! my middle brother's voice came muffledthrough the folds. If you can't help, at least don't hinder!     I managed to struggle out of the tablecloth, even though it seemed tobe trying to wrap itself around me. When Danny got excited, he lost hismental grip.     I could help, I yelled as soon as I got my head free, if anybodywould let me and, what's more, I could set the table a damn sightfaster by hand than you do with 'kinesis.     Just then Father appeared at the head of the table. He could as easilyhave walked downstairs as teleported, but I belonged to a family ofexhibitionists. And Father tended to show off as if he were still akid. Not that he looked his age—he was big and blond, like Danny andTim and me, and could have passed for our older brother.     Boys, boys! he reproved us. Danny, you ought to be ashamed ofyourself—picking on poor Kev.     Even if it hadn't been Danny's fault, he would still have been blamed.     Nobody was ever supposed to raise a voice or a hand or a thought topoor afflicted Kev, because nature had picked on me enough. And thenicer everybody was to me, the nastier I became, since only when theylost their tempers could I get—or so I believed—their true attitudetoward me.     How else could I tell?     Sorry, fella, Dan apologized to me. The tablecloth spread itself outon the table. Wrinkles, he grumbled to himself. Wrinkles. And I hadit so nice and smooth before. Mother will be furious.     If she were going to be furious, she'd be furious already, Fatherreminded him sadly. It must be tough to be married to a deep-probetelepath, I thought, and I felt a sudden wave of sympathy for him. Itwas so seldom I got the chance to feel sorry for anyone except myself.But I think you'll find she understands.     She knows, all right, Danny remarked as he went on into the kitchen,but I'm not sure she always understands.     I was surprised to find him so perceptive on the abstract level,because he wasn't what you might call an understanding person, either.  <doc-sep>Now that the virus diseases had been licked, people hardly evergot sick any more and, when they did, it was mostly psychosomatic.Life was so well organized that there weren't even many accidentsthese days. It was a safe, orderly existence for those who fittedinto it—which accounted for more than ninety-five per cent of thepopulation. The only ones who didn't adjust were those who couldn't,like me—psi-deficients, throwbacks to an earlier era. There were nophysical cripples, because anybody could have a new arm or a new leggrafted on, but you couldn't graft psi powers onto an atavism or, ifyou could, the technique hadn't been developed yet.     I feel a sense of impending doom brooding over this household, myyoungest brother remarked cheerfully as he vaulted into his chair.     You always do, Timothy, my mother said, unfolding her napkin. And Imust say it's not in good taste, especially at breakfast.     He reached for his juice. Guess this is a doomed household. And whatwas all that emotional uproar about?     The usual, Sylvia said from the doorway before anyone else couldanswer. She slid warily into her chair. Hey, Dan, I'm here! shecalled. If anything else comes in, it comes in manually, understand?     Oh, all right. Dan emerged from the kitchen with a tray of foodfloating ahead of him.     The usual? Trouble with Kev? Tim looked at me narrowly. Somehow mysense of ominousness is connected with him.     Well, that's perfectly natural— Sylvia began, then stopped as Mothercaught her eye.     I didn't mean that, Tim said. I still say Kev's got something wecan't figure out.     You've been saying that for years, Danny protested, and he's beentested for every faculty under the Sun. He can't telepath or teleportor telekinesthesize or even teletype. He can't precognize or prefix orprepossess. He can't—     Strictly a bundle of no-talent, that's me, I interrupted, trying tokeep my animal feelings from getting the better of me. That was how myfamily thought of me, I knew—as an animal, and not a very lovable one,either.     No, Tim said, he's just got something we haven't developed a testfor. It'll come out some day, you'll see. He smiled at me.  <doc-sep>Breakfast was finally over and the rest of my family dispersed to theirvarious jobs. Father simply took his briefcase and disappeared—he wasa traveling salesman and he had a morning appointment clear across thecontinent. The others, not having his particular gift, had to takethe helibus to their different destinations. Mother, as I said, was apsychiatrist. Sylvia wrote advertising copy. Tim was a meteorologist.Dan was a junior executive in a furniture moving company and expected apromotion to senior rank as soon as he achieved a better mental grip onpianos.     Only I had no job, no profession, no place in life. Of course therewere certain menial tasks a psi-negative could perform, but my parentswould have none of them—partly for my sake, but mostly for the sake oftheir own community standing.     We don't need what little money Kev could bring in, my father alwayssaid. I can afford to support my family. He can stay home and takecare of the house.     And that's what I did. Not that there was much to do except call atechno whenever one of the servomechanisms missed a beat. True enough,those things had to be watched mighty carefully because, if they brokedown, it sometimes took days before the repair and/or replacementrobots could come. There never were enough of them because ours was aconstructive society. Still, being a machine-sitter isn't very much ofa career. And every function that wasn't the prerogative of a machinecould be done ten times more quickly and efficiently by some member ofmy family than I could do it. If I went ahead and did something anyway,they would just do it all over again when they got home.     So I had nothing to do all day. I had a special dispensation totake books out of the local Archives, because I was a deficient andcouldn't receive the tellie programs. Almost everybody on Earth wastelepathic to some degree and could get the amplified projections evenif he couldn't transmit or receive with his natural powers. But I gotnothing. I had to derive all my recreation from reading, and you canget awfully tired of books, especially when they're all at least ahundred years old and written by primitives. I could borrow soundtapes, but they also bored me after a while.     I thought maybe I could develop a talent for composing or painting,which would classify me as a telesensitive—artistic ability beingconsidered as the oldest, if least important, psi power—but I couldn'teven do anything like that.     About all there was left for me was to take long walks. Athletics wereout of the question; I couldn't compete with psi-boys and they didn'twant to compete with me. All the people in the neighborhood knew meand were nice to me, but I didn't need to be a 'path to tell what theywere saying to one another when I hove into sight. There's that oldestFaraday boy. Pity, such a talented family, to have a defective.       I didn't have a girl, either. Although some of them were sort ofattracted to me—I could see that—they could hardly go out with mewithout exposing themselves to ridicule. In their sandals, I would havedone the same thing, but that didn't stop me from hating them.  <doc-sep>  MacKENZIE was waiting for him in the crew section. Ish flicked hisstolid eyes at him, shrugged, and stripped out of his clothes. He pulleda coverall out of a locker and climbed into it, then went over to hisbunk and lay down on his side, facing the bulkhead.     Ish.     It was MacKenzie, bending over him.     Ish grunted.     It wasn't any good was it? You'd done it all before; you'd been there.     He was past emotions. Yeah?     We couldn't take the chance. MacKenzie was trying desperately toexplain. You were the best there was—but you'd done something toyourself by becoming the best. You shut yourself off from your family.You had no close friends, no women. You had no other interests. You werea rocket pilot—nothing else. You've never read an adult book thatwasn't a text; you've never listened to a symphony except by accident.You don't know Rembrandt from Norman Rockwell. Nothing. No ties, noprops, nothing to sustain you if something went wrong.      We couldn't takethe chance, Ish!          So?     There was too much at stake. If we let you go, you might haveforgotten to come back. You might have just kept going.     He remembered the time with the      Navion     , and nodded. I might have.     I hypnotized you, MacKenzie said. You were never dead. I don't knowwhat the details of your hallucination were, but the important part camethrough, all right. You thought you'd been to the Moon before. It tookall the adventure out of the actual flight; it was just a workadaytrip.     I said it was easy, Ish said.     There was no other way to do it! I had to cancel out the thrill thatcomes from challenging the unknown. You knew what death was like, andyou knew what the Moon was like. Can you understand why I had to do it?     Yeah.      Now get out before I kill you.            He didn't live too long after that. He never entered a rocket again—hedied on the Station, and was buried in space, while a grateful worldmourned him. I wonder what it was like, in his mind, when he reallydied. But he spent the days he had, after the trip, just sitting at anobservatory port, cursing the traitor stars with his dead andpurposeless eyes.      TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:     Obvious typographical errors have been corrected without note.     This etext was produced from Dynamic Science Fiction, January, 1954.Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed.  <doc-sep>It isn't so much our defense that worries me, my mother muttered, aslack of adequate medical machinery. War is bound to mean casualtiesand there aren't enough cure-alls on the planet to take care of them.It's useless to expect the government to build more right now; they'llbe too busy producing weapons. Sylvia, you'd better take a leave ofabsence from your job and come down to Psycho Center to learn first-aidtechniques. And you too, Kevin, she added, obviously a littlesurprised herself at what she was saying. Probably you'd be evenbetter at it than Sylvia since you aren't sensitive to other people'spain.     I looked at her.     It      is     an ill wind, she agreed, smiling wryly, but don't let mecatch you thinking that way, Kevin. Can't you see it would be betterthat there should be no war and you should remain useless?     I couldn't see it, of course, and she knew that, with her wretchedtalent for stripping away my feeble attempts at privacy. Psi-powersusually included some ability to form a mental shield; being withoutone, I was necessarily devoid of the other.     My attitude didn't matter, though, because it was definitely war. Thealiens came back with a fleet clearly bent on our annihilation—eventhe 'paths couldn't figure out their motives, for the thought patternwas entirely different from ours—and the war was on.     I had enjoyed learning first-aid; it was the first time I had everworked with people as an equal. And I was good at it because psi-powersaren't much of an advantage there. Telekinesis maybe a little, butI was big enough to lift anybody without needing any superhumanabilities—normal human abilities, rather.     Gee, Mr. Faraday, one of the other students breathed, you're sostrong. And without 'kinesis or anything.     I looked at her and liked what I saw. She was blonde and pretty. Myname's not Mr. Faraday, I said. It's Kevin.     My name's Lucy, she giggled.     No girl had ever giggled at me in that way before. Immediately Istarted to envision a beautiful future for the two of us, then flushedwhen I realized that she might be a telepath. But she was winding atourniquet around the arm of another member of the class with apparentunconcern.     Hey, quit that! the windee yelled. You're making it too tight! I'llbe mortified!     So Lucy was obviously not a telepath. Later I found out she was onlya low-grade telesensitive—just a poetess—so I had nothing to worryabout as far as having my thoughts read went. I was a little afraid ofSylvia's kidding me about my first romance, but, as it happened, shegot interested in one of the guys who was taking the class with us, andshe was not only too busy to be bothered with me, but in too vulnerablea position herself.     However, when the actual bombs—or their alien equivalent—struck nearour town, I wasn't nearly so happy, especially after they startedcarrying the wounded into the Psycho Center, which had been turned intoa hospital for the duration. I took one look at the gory scene—I hadnever seen anybody really injured before; few people had, as a matterof fact—and started for the door. But Mother was already blocking theway. It was easy to see from which side of the family Tim had got histalent for prognostication.     If the telepaths who can pick up all the pain can stand this, Kevin,she said,       you     certainly can. And there was no kindness at all inthe      you     .     She gave me a shove toward the nearest stretcher. Go on—now's yourchance to show you're of some use in this world.  <doc-sep>The office door opened, and Peter found himself being led down theantiseptic corridor to another door which had opened, giving access tothe manufacturing area. As they moved along, between rows of seeminglydisorganized machinery, Peter noticed that the factory lights highoverhead followed their progress, turning themselves on in advanceof their coming, and going out after they had passed, keeping a poolof illumination only in the immediate area they occupied. Soon theyreached a large door which Peter recognized as the inside of the truckloading door he had seen from outside.     Lexington paused here. This is the bay used by the trucks arrivingwith raw materials, he said. They back up to this door, and a setof automatic jacks outside lines up the trailer body with the doorexactly. Then the door opens and the truck is unloaded by thesematerials handling machines.     Peter didn't see him touch anything, but as he spoke, three glisteningmachines, apparently self-powered, rolled noiselessly up to the door information and stopped there, apparently waiting to be inspected.     They gave Peter the creeps. Simple square boxes, set on casters, withtwo arms each mounted on the sides might have looked similar. The arms,fashioned much like human arms, hung at the sides, not limply, but in arelaxed position that somehow indicated readiness.     Lexington went over to one of them and patted it lovingly. Really,these machines are only an extension of one large machine. The wholeplant, as a matter of fact, is controlled from one point and is reallya single unit. These materials handlers, or manipulators, were aboutthe toughest things in the place to design. But they're tremendouslyuseful. You'll see a lot of them around.     Lexington was about to leave the side of the machine when abruptly oneof the arms rose to the handkerchief in his breast pocket and daintilytugged it into a more attractive position. It took only a split second,and before Lexington could react, all three machines were moving awayto attend to mysterious duties of their own.       Peter tore his eyes away from them in time to see the look offrustrated embarrassment that crossed Lexington's face, only to bereplaced by one of anger. He said nothing, however, and led Peter toa large bay where racks of steel plate, bar forms, nuts, bolts, andother materials were stored.     After unloading a truck, the machines check the shipment, report anyshortages or overages, and store the materials here, he said, thetrace of anger not yet gone from his voice. When an order is received,it's translated into the catalogue numbers used internally within theplant, and machines like the ones you just saw withdraw the necessarymaterials from stock, make the component parts, assemble them, andpackage the finished goods for shipment. Simultaneously, an order issent to the billing section to bill the customer, and an order issent to our trucker to come and pick the shipment up. Meanwhile, ifthe withdrawal of the materials required has depleted our stock, thepurchasing section is instructed to order more raw materials. I'll takeyou through the manufacturing and assembly sections right now, butthey're too noisy for me to explain what's going on while we're there.  <doc-sep>Men are too perishable, Mrs. Deshazaway said over dinner. For allpractical purposes I'm never going to marry again. All my husbands die.     Would you pass the beets, please? Humphrey Fownes said.     She handed him a platter of steaming red beets. And don't look at methat way, she said. I'm      not     going to marry you and if you wantreasons I'll give you four of them. Andrew. Curt. Norman. And Alphonse.     The widow was a passionate woman. She did everythingpassionately—talking, cooking, dressing. Her beets were passionatelyred. Her clothes rustled and her high heels clicked and her jewelrytinkled. She was possessed by an uncontrollable dynamism. Fownes hadnever known anyone like her. You forgot to put salt on the potatoes,she said passionately, then went on as calmly as it was possible forher to be, to explain why she couldn't marry him. Do you have anyidea what people are saying? They're all saying I'm a cannibal! I robmy husbands of their life force and when they're empty I carry theirbodies outside on my way to the justice of the peace.     As long as there are people, he said philosophically, there'll betalk.     But it's the air! Why don't they talk about that? The air is stale,I'm positive. It's not nourishing. The air is stale and Andrew, Curt,Norman and Alphonse couldn't stand it. Poor Alphonse. He was never sohealthy as on the day he was born. From then on things got steadilyworse for him.     I don't seem to mind the air.     She threw up her hands. You'd be the worst of the lot! She left thetable, rustling and tinkling about the room. I can just hear them. Trysome of the asparagus.      Five.     That's what they'd say. That woman didit again. And the plain fact is I don't want you on my record.     Really, Fownes protested. I feel splendid. Never better.     He could hear her moving about and then felt her hands on hisshoulders. And what about those      very     elaborate plans you've beenmaking to seduce me?     Fownes froze with three asparagus hanging from his fork.     Don't you think      they'll     find out?      I     found out and you can bet      they     will. It's my fault, I guess. I talk too much. And I don'talways tell the truth. To be completely honest with you, Mr. Fownes, itwasn't the old customs at all standing between us, it was air. I can'thave another man die on me, it's bad for my self-esteem. And now you'vegone and done something good and criminal, something peculiar.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is Tim's position within the family dynamic in Jack of No Trades?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What were the events that resulted in Kevin's power remaining undiscovered until he reached the age of twenty-six in the story ""Jack of No Trades""? [SEP] <s>   Jack of No Trades     By EVELYN E. SMITH     Illustrated by CAVAT     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy October 1955.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright     on this publication was renewed.]        I was psick of Psi powers, not having any. Or didn't I? Maybe they'dpsee otherwise psomeday!        I walked into the dining room and collided with a floating mass offabric, which promptly draped itself over me like a sentient shroud.     Oh, for God's sake, Kevin! my middle brother's voice came muffledthrough the folds. If you can't help, at least don't hinder!     I managed to struggle out of the tablecloth, even though it seemed tobe trying to wrap itself around me. When Danny got excited, he lost hismental grip.     I could help, I yelled as soon as I got my head free, if anybodywould let me and, what's more, I could set the table a damn sightfaster by hand than you do with 'kinesis.     Just then Father appeared at the head of the table. He could as easilyhave walked downstairs as teleported, but I belonged to a family ofexhibitionists. And Father tended to show off as if he were still akid. Not that he looked his age—he was big and blond, like Danny andTim and me, and could have passed for our older brother.     Boys, boys! he reproved us. Danny, you ought to be ashamed ofyourself—picking on poor Kev.     Even if it hadn't been Danny's fault, he would still have been blamed.     Nobody was ever supposed to raise a voice or a hand or a thought topoor afflicted Kev, because nature had picked on me enough. And thenicer everybody was to me, the nastier I became, since only when theylost their tempers could I get—or so I believed—their true attitudetoward me.     How else could I tell?     Sorry, fella, Dan apologized to me. The tablecloth spread itself outon the table. Wrinkles, he grumbled to himself. Wrinkles. And I hadit so nice and smooth before. Mother will be furious.     If she were going to be furious, she'd be furious already, Fatherreminded him sadly. It must be tough to be married to a deep-probetelepath, I thought, and I felt a sudden wave of sympathy for him. Itwas so seldom I got the chance to feel sorry for anyone except myself.But I think you'll find she understands.     She knows, all right, Danny remarked as he went on into the kitchen,but I'm not sure she always understands.     I was surprised to find him so perceptive on the abstract level,because he wasn't what you might call an understanding person, either.  <doc-sep>I wonder why we never thought of healing as a potential psi-power, mymother said to me later, when I was catching a snatch of rest and shewas lighting cigarettes and offering me cups of coffee in an attempt tomake up twenty-six years of indifference, perhaps dislike, all at once.The ability to heal      is     recorded in history, only we never paid muchattention to it.     Recorded? I asked, a little jealously.     Of course, she smiled. Remember the King's Evil?     I should have known without her reminding me, after all the old books Ihad read. Scrofula, wasn't it? They called it that because the touchof certain kings was supposed to cure it ... and other diseases, too, Iguess.     She nodded. Certain people must have had the healing power and that'sprobably why they originally got to be the rulers.     In a very short time, I became a pretty important person. All the otherdeficients in the world were tested for the healing power and all ofthem turned out negative. I proved to be the only human healer alive,and not only that, I could work a thousand times more efficiently andeffectively than any of the machines. The government built a hospitaljust for my work! Wounded people were ferried there from all over theworld and I cured them. I could do practically everything except raisethe dead and sometimes I wondered whether, with a little practice, Iwouldn't be able to do even that.     When I came to my new office, whom did I find waiting there for me butLucy, her trim figure enhanced by a snug blue and white uniform. I'myour assistant, Kev, she said shyly.     I looked at her. You are?     I—I hope you want me, she went on, coyness now mixing withapprehension.     I gave her shoulder a squeeze. I do want you, Lucy. More than I cantell you now. After all this is over, there's something more I want tosay. But right now— I clapped her arm—there's a job to be done.     Yes, Kevin, she said, glaring at me for some reason I didn't havetime to investigate or interpret at the moment. My patients werewaiting for me.     They gave me everything else I could possibly need, except enoughsleep, and I myself didn't want that. I wanted to heal. I wanted toshow my fellow human beings that, though I couldn't receive or transmitthoughts or foretell the future or move things with my mind, all thosepowers were useless without life, and that was what I could give.     I took pride in my work. It was good to stop pain and ugliness, to knowthat, if it weren't for me, these people would be dead or permanentlydisfigured. In a sense, they were—well, my children; I felt a warmglow of affection toward them.     They felt the same way toward me. I knew because the secret of thehospital soon leaked out—during all those years of peace, thegovernment had lost whatever facility it had for keeping secrets—andpeople used to come in droves, hoping for a glimpse of me.  <doc-sep>The blow shook the gun from my fingers. It almost fell into the      thing     on the floor, but at the last moment seemed to change direction andmiss it.     I knew something. I don't wash because I drink coffee.     It's all right to drink coffee, isn't it? he asked.     Of course, I said, and added absurdly, That's why I don't wash.     You mean, Andre said slowly, ploddingly, that if you bathed, youwould be admitting that drinking coffee was in the same class as anyother solitary vice that makes people wash frequently.     I was knocked to my knees.     Kevin, the Martian said, drinking coffee represents a major viceonly in Centurian humanoids, not Earth-norm human beings.      Which areyou?          Nothing came out of my gabbling mouth.           What is Doc's full name?          I almost fell in, but at the last instant I caught myself and said,Doctor Kevin O'Malley, Senior.     From the bed, Doc said a word. Son.     Then he disappeared.     I looked at that which he had made. I wondered where he had gone, insearch of what.     He didn't use that, Andre said.     So I was an Earthman, Doc's son. So my addiction to coffee was all inmy mind. That didn't change anything. They say sex is all in your mind.I didn't want to be cured. I wouldn't be. Doc was gone. That was all Ihad now. That and the      thing     he left.     The rest is simple, Andre said. Doc O'Malley bought up all the stockin a certain ancient metaphysical order and started supplying memberswith certain books. Can you imagine the effect of the      Book of Dyzan     or the      Book of Thoth     or the      Seven Cryptical Books of Hsan     or the      Necronomican     itself on human beings?     But they don't exist, I said wearily.     Exactly, Kevin, exactly. They have never existed any more than yourVictorian detective friend. But the unconscious racial mind has reachedback into time and created them. And that unconscious mind, deeper thanpsychology terms the subconscious, has always known about the powersof ESP, telepathy, telekinesis, precognition. Through these books,the human race can tell itself how to achieve a state of pure logic,without food, without sex, without conflict—just as Doc has achievedsuch a state—a little late, true. He had a powerful guilt complex,even stronger than your withdrawal, over releasing this blessing onthe inhabited universe, but reason finally prevailed. He had reached astate of pure thought.     The North American government      has     to have this secret, Kevin, thegirl said. You can't let it fall into the hands of the Martians.  <doc-sep>I wished I had been born a couple of hundred years ago—before peoplestarted playing around with nuclear energy and filling the air withradiations that they were afraid would turn human beings into hideousmonsters. Instead, they developed the psi powers that had always beenlatent in the species until we developed into a race of supermen. Idon't know why I say      we     —in 1960 or so, I might have been consideredsuperior, but in 2102 I was just the Faradays' idiot boy.     Exploring space should have been my hope. If there had been anythinguseful or interesting on any of the other planets, I might have founda niche for myself there. In totally new surroundings, the psi powersgeared to another environment might not be an advantage. But by thetime I was ten, it was discovered that the other planets were justbarren hunks of rock, with pressures and climates and atmospheresdrastically unsuited to human life. A year or so before, the hyperdrivehad been developed on Earth and ships had been sent out to explore thestars, but I had no hope left in that direction any more.     I was an atavism in a world of peace and plenty. Peace, because peoplecouldn't indulge in war or even crime with so many telepaths runningaround—not because, I told myself, the capacity for primitive behaviorwasn't just as latent in everybody else as the psi talent seemed latentin me. Tim must be right, I thought—I must have some undreamed-ofpower that only the right circumstances would bring out. But what wasthat power?     For years I had speculated on what my potential talent might be,explored every wild possibility I could conceive of and found noneproductive of even an ambiguous result with which I could fool myself.As I approached adulthood, I began to concede that I was probablynothing more than what I seemed to be—a simple psi-negative. Yet, fromtime to time, hope surged up again, as it had today, in spite of myknowledge that my hope was an impossibility. Who ever heard of latentpsi powers showing themselves in an individual as old as twenty-six?     I was almost alone in the parks where I used to walk, because peopleliked to commune with one another those days rather than with nature.Even gardening had very little popularity. But I found myself most athome in those woodland—or, rather, pseudo-woodland—surroundings,able to identify more readily with the trees and flowers than I couldwith my own kind. A fallen tree or a broken blossom would excite moresympathy from me than the minor catastrophes that will beset anyhousehold, no matter how gifted, and I would shy away from bloodynoses or cut fingers, thus giving myself a reputation for callousnessas well as extrasensory imbecility.     However, I was no more callous in steering clear of human breakdownsthan I was in not shedding tears over the household machines when theybroke down, for I felt no more closely akin to my parents and siblingsthan I did to the mechanisms that served and, sometimes, failed us.  <doc-sep>III     Oh, yes, and Jamieson had a feeble paper on what he calledindividualization in marine worms. Barr, have you ever thought muchabout the larger aspects of the problem of individuality?     Jack jumped slightly. He had let his thoughts wander very far.     Not especially, sir, he mumbled.     The house was still. A few minutes after the professor's arrival,Mrs. Kesserich had gone off with an anxious glance at Jack. He knewwhy and wished he could reassure her that he would not mention theirconversation to the professor.     Kesserich had spent perhaps a half hour briefing him on the moreimportant papers delivered at the conferences. Then, almost as ifit were a teacher's trick to show up a pupil's inattention, he hadsuddenly posed this question about individuality.     You know what I mean, of course, Kesserich pressed. The factors thatmake you you, and me me.     Heredity and environment, Jack parroted like a freshman.     Kesserich nodded. Suppose—this is just speculation—that we couldcontrol heredity and environment. Then we could re-create the sameindividual at will.     Jack felt a shiver go through him. To get exactly the same pattern ofhereditary traits. That'd be far beyond us.     What about identical twins? Kesserich pointed out. And then there'sparthenogenesis to be considered. One might produce a duplicate of themother without the intervention of the male. Although his voice hadgrown more idly speculative, Kesserich seemed to Jack to be smilingsecretly. There are many examples in the lower animal forms, to saynothing of the technique by which Loeb caused a sea urchin to reproducewith no more stimulus than a salt solution.     Jack felt the hair rising on his neck. Even then you wouldn't getexactly the same pattern of hereditary traits.     Not if the parent were of very pure stock? Not if there were somespecial technique for selecting ova that would reproduce all themother's traits?     But environment would change things, Jack objected. The duplicatewould be bound to develop differently.     Is environment so important? Newman tells about a pair of identicaltwins separated from birth, unaware of each other's existence. They metby accident when they were twenty-one. Each was a telephone repairman.Each had a wife the same age. Each had a baby son. And each had a foxterrier called 'Trixie.' That's without trying to make environmentssimilar. But suppose you did try. Suppose you saw to it that each ofthem had exactly the same experiences at the same times....     For a moment it seemed to Jack that the room was dimming and wavering,becoming a dark pool in which the only motionless thing was Kesserich'ssphinx-like face.     Well, we've escaped quite far enough from Jamieson's marine worms,the biologist said, all brisk again. He said it as if Jack were theone who had led the conversation down wild and unprofitable channels.Let's get on to your project. I want to talk it over now, because Iwon't have any time for it tomorrow.     Jack looked at him blankly.     Tomorrow I must attend to a very important matter, the biologistexplained.  <doc-sep>It isn't so much our defense that worries me, my mother muttered, aslack of adequate medical machinery. War is bound to mean casualtiesand there aren't enough cure-alls on the planet to take care of them.It's useless to expect the government to build more right now; they'llbe too busy producing weapons. Sylvia, you'd better take a leave ofabsence from your job and come down to Psycho Center to learn first-aidtechniques. And you too, Kevin, she added, obviously a littlesurprised herself at what she was saying. Probably you'd be evenbetter at it than Sylvia since you aren't sensitive to other people'spain.     I looked at her.     It      is     an ill wind, she agreed, smiling wryly, but don't let mecatch you thinking that way, Kevin. Can't you see it would be betterthat there should be no war and you should remain useless?     I couldn't see it, of course, and she knew that, with her wretchedtalent for stripping away my feeble attempts at privacy. Psi-powersusually included some ability to form a mental shield; being withoutone, I was necessarily devoid of the other.     My attitude didn't matter, though, because it was definitely war. Thealiens came back with a fleet clearly bent on our annihilation—eventhe 'paths couldn't figure out their motives, for the thought patternwas entirely different from ours—and the war was on.     I had enjoyed learning first-aid; it was the first time I had everworked with people as an equal. And I was good at it because psi-powersaren't much of an advantage there. Telekinesis maybe a little, butI was big enough to lift anybody without needing any superhumanabilities—normal human abilities, rather.     Gee, Mr. Faraday, one of the other students breathed, you're sostrong. And without 'kinesis or anything.     I looked at her and liked what I saw. She was blonde and pretty. Myname's not Mr. Faraday, I said. It's Kevin.     My name's Lucy, she giggled.     No girl had ever giggled at me in that way before. Immediately Istarted to envision a beautiful future for the two of us, then flushedwhen I realized that she might be a telepath. But she was winding atourniquet around the arm of another member of the class with apparentunconcern.     Hey, quit that! the windee yelled. You're making it too tight! I'llbe mortified!     So Lucy was obviously not a telepath. Later I found out she was onlya low-grade telesensitive—just a poetess—so I had nothing to worryabout as far as having my thoughts read went. I was a little afraid ofSylvia's kidding me about my first romance, but, as it happened, shegot interested in one of the guys who was taking the class with us, andshe was not only too busy to be bothered with me, but in too vulnerablea position herself.     However, when the actual bombs—or their alien equivalent—struck nearour town, I wasn't nearly so happy, especially after they startedcarrying the wounded into the Psycho Center, which had been turned intoa hospital for the duration. I took one look at the gory scene—I hadnever seen anybody really injured before; few people had, as a matterof fact—and started for the door. But Mother was already blocking theway. It was easy to see from which side of the family Tim had got histalent for prognostication.     If the telepaths who can pick up all the pain can stand this, Kevin,she said,       you     certainly can. And there was no kindness at all inthe      you     .     She gave me a shove toward the nearest stretcher. Go on—now's yourchance to show you're of some use in this world.  <doc-sep>In the meantime, however, more things than pots came from Earth.One was a printing press, the like of which none on Zur had everdreamed. This, for some unknown reason and much to the disgust ofthe Lorians, was set up in Thorabia. Books and magazines poured fromit in a fantastic stream. The populace fervidly brushed up on itsscanty reading ability and bought everything available, overcome bythe novelty of it. Even Zotul bought a book—a primer in the Lorianlanguage—and learned how to read and write. The remainder of thebrothers Masur, on the other hand, preferred to remain in ignorance.     Moreover, the Earthmen brought miles of copper wire—more than enoughin value to buy out the governorship of any country on Zur—and set uptelegraph lines from country to country and continent to continent.Within five years of the first landing of the Earthmen, every majorcity on the globe had a printing press, a daily newspaper, and enjoyedthe instantaneous transmission of news via telegraph. And the businessof the House of Masur continued to look up.     As I have always said from the beginning, chortled Director Koltan,this coming of the Earthmen had been a great thing for us, andespecially for the House of Masur.     You didn't think so at first, Zotul pointed out, and was immediatelysorry, for Koltan turned and gave him a hiding, single-handed, for hisunthinkable impertinence.     It would do no good, Zotul realized, to bring up the fact that theirproduction of ceramic cooking pots had dropped off to about two percent of its former volume. Of course, profits on the line of new stovesgreatly overbalanced the loss, so that actually they were ahead; buttheir business was now dependent upon the supply of the metal pots fromEarth.     About this time, plastic utensils—dishes, cups, knives, forks—madetheir appearance on Zur. It became very stylish to eat with thenewfangled paraphernalia ... and very cheap, too, because foreverything they sold, the Earthmen always took the old ware in trade.What they did with the stuff had been hard to believe at first. Theydestroyed it, which proved how valueless it really was.     The result of the new flood was that in the following year, the sale ofMasur ceramic table service dropped to less than a tenth.  <doc-sep>I smiled at him gratefully; he was the only member of my family whoreally seemed to like me in spite of my handicap. It won't work, Tim.I know you're trying to be kind, but—     He's not saying it just to be kind, my mother put in. He means it.Not that I want to arouse false hopes, Kevin, she added with grimscrupulousness. Tim's awfully young yet and I wouldn't trust hisextracurricular prognostications too far.     Nonetheless, I couldn't help feeling a feeble renewal of old hopes.After all, young or not, Tim was a hell of a good prognosticator; hewouldn't have risen so rapidly to the position he held in the WeatherBureau if he hadn't been pretty near tops in foreboding.     Mother smiled sadly at my thoughts, but I didn't let that discourageme. As Danny had said, she      knew     but she didn't really      understand     .Nobody, for all of his or her psi power, really understood me.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What were the events that resulted in Kevin's power remaining undiscovered until he reached the age of twenty-six in the story ""Jack of No Trades""?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How are individuals lacking psi-powers perceived in the society depicted in Jack of No Trades? [SEP] <s>III     Oh, yes, and Jamieson had a feeble paper on what he calledindividualization in marine worms. Barr, have you ever thought muchabout the larger aspects of the problem of individuality?     Jack jumped slightly. He had let his thoughts wander very far.     Not especially, sir, he mumbled.     The house was still. A few minutes after the professor's arrival,Mrs. Kesserich had gone off with an anxious glance at Jack. He knewwhy and wished he could reassure her that he would not mention theirconversation to the professor.     Kesserich had spent perhaps a half hour briefing him on the moreimportant papers delivered at the conferences. Then, almost as ifit were a teacher's trick to show up a pupil's inattention, he hadsuddenly posed this question about individuality.     You know what I mean, of course, Kesserich pressed. The factors thatmake you you, and me me.     Heredity and environment, Jack parroted like a freshman.     Kesserich nodded. Suppose—this is just speculation—that we couldcontrol heredity and environment. Then we could re-create the sameindividual at will.     Jack felt a shiver go through him. To get exactly the same pattern ofhereditary traits. That'd be far beyond us.     What about identical twins? Kesserich pointed out. And then there'sparthenogenesis to be considered. One might produce a duplicate of themother without the intervention of the male. Although his voice hadgrown more idly speculative, Kesserich seemed to Jack to be smilingsecretly. There are many examples in the lower animal forms, to saynothing of the technique by which Loeb caused a sea urchin to reproducewith no more stimulus than a salt solution.     Jack felt the hair rising on his neck. Even then you wouldn't getexactly the same pattern of hereditary traits.     Not if the parent were of very pure stock? Not if there were somespecial technique for selecting ova that would reproduce all themother's traits?     But environment would change things, Jack objected. The duplicatewould be bound to develop differently.     Is environment so important? Newman tells about a pair of identicaltwins separated from birth, unaware of each other's existence. They metby accident when they were twenty-one. Each was a telephone repairman.Each had a wife the same age. Each had a baby son. And each had a foxterrier called 'Trixie.' That's without trying to make environmentssimilar. But suppose you did try. Suppose you saw to it that each ofthem had exactly the same experiences at the same times....     For a moment it seemed to Jack that the room was dimming and wavering,becoming a dark pool in which the only motionless thing was Kesserich'ssphinx-like face.     Well, we've escaped quite far enough from Jamieson's marine worms,the biologist said, all brisk again. He said it as if Jack were theone who had led the conversation down wild and unprofitable channels.Let's get on to your project. I want to talk it over now, because Iwon't have any time for it tomorrow.     Jack looked at him blankly.     Tomorrow I must attend to a very important matter, the biologistexplained.  <doc-sep>It isn't so much our defense that worries me, my mother muttered, aslack of adequate medical machinery. War is bound to mean casualtiesand there aren't enough cure-alls on the planet to take care of them.It's useless to expect the government to build more right now; they'llbe too busy producing weapons. Sylvia, you'd better take a leave ofabsence from your job and come down to Psycho Center to learn first-aidtechniques. And you too, Kevin, she added, obviously a littlesurprised herself at what she was saying. Probably you'd be evenbetter at it than Sylvia since you aren't sensitive to other people'spain.     I looked at her.     It      is     an ill wind, she agreed, smiling wryly, but don't let mecatch you thinking that way, Kevin. Can't you see it would be betterthat there should be no war and you should remain useless?     I couldn't see it, of course, and she knew that, with her wretchedtalent for stripping away my feeble attempts at privacy. Psi-powersusually included some ability to form a mental shield; being withoutone, I was necessarily devoid of the other.     My attitude didn't matter, though, because it was definitely war. Thealiens came back with a fleet clearly bent on our annihilation—eventhe 'paths couldn't figure out their motives, for the thought patternwas entirely different from ours—and the war was on.     I had enjoyed learning first-aid; it was the first time I had everworked with people as an equal. And I was good at it because psi-powersaren't much of an advantage there. Telekinesis maybe a little, butI was big enough to lift anybody without needing any superhumanabilities—normal human abilities, rather.     Gee, Mr. Faraday, one of the other students breathed, you're sostrong. And without 'kinesis or anything.     I looked at her and liked what I saw. She was blonde and pretty. Myname's not Mr. Faraday, I said. It's Kevin.     My name's Lucy, she giggled.     No girl had ever giggled at me in that way before. Immediately Istarted to envision a beautiful future for the two of us, then flushedwhen I realized that she might be a telepath. But she was winding atourniquet around the arm of another member of the class with apparentunconcern.     Hey, quit that! the windee yelled. You're making it too tight! I'llbe mortified!     So Lucy was obviously not a telepath. Later I found out she was onlya low-grade telesensitive—just a poetess—so I had nothing to worryabout as far as having my thoughts read went. I was a little afraid ofSylvia's kidding me about my first romance, but, as it happened, shegot interested in one of the guys who was taking the class with us, andshe was not only too busy to be bothered with me, but in too vulnerablea position herself.     However, when the actual bombs—or their alien equivalent—struck nearour town, I wasn't nearly so happy, especially after they startedcarrying the wounded into the Psycho Center, which had been turned intoa hospital for the duration. I took one look at the gory scene—I hadnever seen anybody really injured before; few people had, as a matterof fact—and started for the door. But Mother was already blocking theway. It was easy to see from which side of the family Tim had got histalent for prognostication.     If the telepaths who can pick up all the pain can stand this, Kevin,she said,       you     certainly can. And there was no kindness at all inthe      you     .     She gave me a shove toward the nearest stretcher. Go on—now's yourchance to show you're of some use in this world.  <doc-sep>He was halfway across the lawn before he realized the terror into whichthe grating radio voice had thrown him.     He leaped for the branch over-hanging the fence, vaulted up with therisky help of a foot on the barbed top. A surprised squirrel, lackingtime to make its escape up the trunk, sprang to the ground ahead ofhim. With terrible suddenness, two steel-jawed semicircles clankedtogether just over the squirrel's head. Jack landed with one foot toeither side of the sprung trap, while the squirrel darted off with asqueak.     Jack plunged down the slope to the rocky spine and ran across it, sprayfrom the rising waves spattering him to the waist. Panting now, hestumbled up into the oaks and undergrowth of the first island, foughthis way through it, finally reached the silent cove. He loosed the lineof the      Annie O.     , dragged it as near to the cove's mouth as he could,plunged knee-deep in freezing water to give it a final shove, scrambledaboard, snatched up the boathook and punched at the rocks.     As soon as the      Annie O.     was nosing out of the cove into the crosswaves, he yanked up the sail. The freshening wind filled it and sentthe sloop heeling over, with inches of white water over the lee rail,and plunging ahead.     For a long while, Jack was satisfied to think of nothing but the windand the waves and the sail and speed and danger, to have all hisattention taken up balancing one against the other, so that he wouldn'thave to ask himself what year it was and whether time was an illusion,and wonder about flappers and hidden traps.     When he finally looked back at the island, he was amazed to see howtiny it had grown, as distant as the mainland.     Then he saw a gray motorboat astern. He watched it as it slowlyovertook him. It was built like a lifeboat, with a sturdy low cabin inthe bow and wheel amidship. Whoever was at the wheel had long gray hairthat whipped in the wind. The longer he looked, the surer he was thatit was a woman wearing a lace dress. Something that stuck up inchesover the cabin flashed darkly beside her. Only when she lifted it tothe roof of the cabin did it occur to him that it might be a rifle.     But just then the motorboat swung around in a turn that sent wavesdrenching over it, and headed back toward the island. He watched it fora minute in wonder, then his attention was jolted by an angry hail.     Three fishing smacks, also headed toward town, were about to crosshis bow. He came around into the wind and waited with shaking sail,watching a man in a lumpy sweater shake a fist at him. Then he turnedand gratefully followed the dark, wide, fanlike sterns and age-yellowedsails.  <doc-sep>The Movement met in what had been the children's room, where unpaidladies of the afternoon had once upon a time read stories to otherpeople's offspring. The members sat around at the miniature tableslooking oddly like giants fled from their fairy tales, protesting.     Where did the old society fail? the leader was demanding of them. Hestood in the center of the room, leaning on a heavy knobbed cane. Heglanced around at the group almost complacently, and waited as HumphreyFownes squeezed into an empty chair. We live in a dome, the leadersaid, for lack of something. An invention! What is the one thingthat the great technological societies before ours could not invent,notwithstanding their various giant brains, electronic and otherwise?     Fownes was the kind of man who never answered a rhetorical question. Hewaited, uncomfortable in the tight chair, while the others struggledwith this problem in revolutionary dialectics.           A sound foreign policy     , the leader said, aware that no one else hadobtained the insight. If a sound foreign policy can't be created theonly alternative is not to have any foreign policy at all. Thus themovement into domes began—      by common consent of the governments     . Thisis known as self-containment.     Dialectically out in left field, Humphrey Fownes waited for a lullin the ensuing discussion and then politely inquired how it might bearranged for him to get out.     Out? the leader said, frowning. Out? Out where?     Outside the dome.     Oh. All in good time, my friend. One day we shall all pick up andleave.     And that day I'll await impatiently, Fownes replied with marveloustact, because it will be lonely out there for the two of us. My futurewife and I have to leave      now     .     Nonsense. Ridiculous! You have to be prepared for the Open Country.You can't just up and leave, it would be suicide, Fownes. Anddialectically very poor.     Then you      have     discussed preparations, the practical necessities oflife in the Open Country. Food, clothing, a weapon perhaps? What else?Have I left anything out?     The leader sighed. The gentleman wants to know if he's left anythingout, he said to the group.     Fownes looked around at them, at some dozen pained expressions.     Tell the man what he's forgotten, the leader said, walking to the farwindow and turning his back quite pointedly on them.     Everyone spoke at the same moment.       A sound foreign policy     , they allsaid, it being almost too obvious for words.  <doc-sep>A scratchy sound issued from the disk. Pardon my laughter, Hoshicksaid, but surely you jest?     As a matter of fact, said Retief, we ourselves seldom use weapons.     I seem to recall that our first contact of skirmishforms involved theuse of a weapon by one of your units.     My apologies, said Retief. The—ah—the skirmishform failed torecognize that he was dealing with a sportsman.     Still, now that we have commenced so merrily with weapons.... Hoshicksignaled and the servant refilled tubes.     There is an aspect I haven't yet mentioned, Retief went on. I hopeyou won't take this personally, but the fact is, our skirmishformsthink of weapons as something one employs only in dealing with certainspecific life-forms.     Oh? Curious. What forms are those?     Vermin. Or 'varmints' as some call them. Deadly antagonists, butlacking in caste. I don't want our skirmishforms thinking of suchworthy adversaries as yourself as varmints.     Dear me! I hadn't realized, of course. Most considerate of you topoint it out. Hoshick clucked in dismay. I see that skirmishforms aremuch the same among you as with us: lacking in perception. He laughedscratchily. Imagine considering us as—what was the word?—varmints.     Which brings us to the crux of the matter. You see, we're up againsta serious problem with regard to skirmishforms. A low birth rate.Therefore we've reluctantly taken to substitutes for the mass actionsso dear to the heart of the sportsman. We've attempted to put an end tothese contests altogether....     Hoshick coughed explosively, sending a spray of wine into the air.What are you saying? he gasped. Are you proposing that Hoshick ofthe Mosaic of the Two Dawns abandon honor....?     Sir! said Retief sternly. You forget yourself. I, Retief of the RedTape Mountain, make an alternate proposal more in keeping with thenewest sporting principles.     New? cried Hoshick. My dear Retief, what a pleasant surprise! I'menthralled with novel modes. One gets so out of touch. Do elaborate.     It's quite simple, really. Each side selects a representative and thetwo individuals settle the issue between them.     I ... um ... fear I don't understand. What possible significance couldone attach to the activities of a couple of random skirmishforms?     I haven't made myself clear, said Retief. He took a sip of wine. Wedon't involve the skirmishforms at all. That's quite passe.     You don't mean...?     That's right. You and me.  <doc-sep>Manet finished the mellow whiskey and looked into the glass. It seemedto have been polished clean. What do you have to offer?     Whatever you want?     Irritably, How do I know what I want until I know what you have?     You know.     I know? All right, I know. You don't have it for sale.     Old chap, understand if you please that I do not only      sell     . Iam a trader—Trader Tom. I trade with many parties. There are, forexample ... extraterrestrials.     Folk legend!     On the contrary,      mon cher     , the only reality it lacks is politicalreality. The Assembly could no longer justify their disposition ofthe cosmos if it were known they were dealing confiscation withoutrepresentation. Come, tell me what you want.     Manet gave in to it. I want to be not alone, he said.     Of course, Trader Tom replied, I suspected. It is not so unusual,you know. Sign here. And here. Two copies. This is yours. Thank you somuch.     Manet handed back the pen and stared at the laminated card in his hand.       When he looked up from the card, Manet saw the box. Trader Tom waspushing it across the floor towards him.     The box had the general dimensions of a coffin, but it wasn'twood—only brightly illustrated cardboard. There was a large four-colorpicture on the lid showing men, women and children moving through abusy city street. The red and blue letters said:     LIFO       The Socialization Kit       It is commercialized, Trader Tom admitted with no little chagrin.It is presented to appeal to a twelve-year-old child, an erotic,aggressive twelve-year-old, the typical sensie goer—but that isreality. It offends men of good taste like ourselves, yet sometimes itapproaches being art. We must accept it.     What's the cost? Manet asked. Before I accept it, I have to know thecharges.     You never know the cost. Only your executor knows that. It's theTrader Tom plan.     Well, is it guaranteed?     There are no guarantees, Trader Tom admitted. But I've never had anycomplaints yet.     Suppose I'm the first? Manet suggested reasonably.     You won't be, Trader Tom said. I won't pass this way again.  <doc-sep>   Jack of No Trades     By EVELYN E. SMITH     Illustrated by CAVAT     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy October 1955.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright     on this publication was renewed.]        I was psick of Psi powers, not having any. Or didn't I? Maybe they'dpsee otherwise psomeday!        I walked into the dining room and collided with a floating mass offabric, which promptly draped itself over me like a sentient shroud.     Oh, for God's sake, Kevin! my middle brother's voice came muffledthrough the folds. If you can't help, at least don't hinder!     I managed to struggle out of the tablecloth, even though it seemed tobe trying to wrap itself around me. When Danny got excited, he lost hismental grip.     I could help, I yelled as soon as I got my head free, if anybodywould let me and, what's more, I could set the table a damn sightfaster by hand than you do with 'kinesis.     Just then Father appeared at the head of the table. He could as easilyhave walked downstairs as teleported, but I belonged to a family ofexhibitionists. And Father tended to show off as if he were still akid. Not that he looked his age—he was big and blond, like Danny andTim and me, and could have passed for our older brother.     Boys, boys! he reproved us. Danny, you ought to be ashamed ofyourself—picking on poor Kev.     Even if it hadn't been Danny's fault, he would still have been blamed.     Nobody was ever supposed to raise a voice or a hand or a thought topoor afflicted Kev, because nature had picked on me enough. And thenicer everybody was to me, the nastier I became, since only when theylost their tempers could I get—or so I believed—their true attitudetoward me.     How else could I tell?     Sorry, fella, Dan apologized to me. The tablecloth spread itself outon the table. Wrinkles, he grumbled to himself. Wrinkles. And I hadit so nice and smooth before. Mother will be furious.     If she were going to be furious, she'd be furious already, Fatherreminded him sadly. It must be tough to be married to a deep-probetelepath, I thought, and I felt a sudden wave of sympathy for him. Itwas so seldom I got the chance to feel sorry for anyone except myself.But I think you'll find she understands.     She knows, all right, Danny remarked as he went on into the kitchen,but I'm not sure she always understands.     I was surprised to find him so perceptive on the abstract level,because he wasn't what you might call an understanding person, either.  <doc-sep>Brock pushed open the inch-thick metal door beneath a sign that saidO'Banion's Bar, and I followed him in. We sat down at a table andordered drinks when the waiter bustled over. A cop in uniform isn'tsupposed to drink, but Brock figures that the head of the SecurityGuard ought to be able to get away with a breach of his own rules.     We had our drinks in front of us and our cigarettes lit before Brockopened up with his troubles.     Oak, he said, I wanted to intercept you before you went to the plantbecause I want you to know that there may be trouble.     Yeah? What kind? Sometimes it's a pain to play ignorant.     Thurston's outfit is trying to oust Ravenhurst from the managership ofViking and take over the job. Baedecker Metals & Mining Corporation,which is managed by Baedecker himself, wants to force Viking out ofbusiness so that BM&M can take over Ceres for large-scale processing ofprecious metals.     Between the two of 'em, they're raising all sorts of minor hellaround  [21]  here, and it's liable to become major hell at any time. And wecan't stand any hell—or sabotage—around this planetoid just now!     Now wait a minute, I said, still playing ignorant, I thought we'dpretty well established that the 'sabotage' of the McGuire series wasJack Ravenhurst's fault. She was the one who was driving them nuts, notThurston's agents.     Perfectly true, he said agreeably. We managed to block any attemptsof sabotage by other company agents, even though it looked as though wehadn't for a while. He chuckled wryly. We went all out to keep theMcGuires safe, and all the time the boss' daughter was giving them theworks. Then he looked sharply at me. I covered that, of course. Noone in the Security Guard but me knows that Jack was responsible.     Good. But what about the Thurston and Baedecker agents, then?     He took a hefty slug of his drink. They're around, all right. We haveour eyes on the ones we know, but those outfits are as sharp as weare, and they may have a few agents here on Ceres that we know nothingabout.     So? What does this have to do with me?     He put his drink on the table. Oak, I want you to help me. Hisonyx-brown eyes, only a shade darker than his skin, looked directlyinto my own. I know it isn't part of your assignment, and you know Ican't afford to pay you anything near what you're worth. It will haveto come out of my  [22]  pocket because I couldn't possibly justify it fromoperating funds. Ravenhurst specifically told me that he doesn't wantyou messing around with the espionage and sabotage problem because hedoesn't like your methods of operation.     And you're going to go against his orders?     I am. Ravenhurst is sore at you personally because you showed himthat Jack was responsible for the McGuire sabotage. It's an irrationaldislike, and I am not going to let it interfere with my job. I'm goingto protect Ravenhurst's interests to the best of my ability, and thatmeans that I'll use the best of other people's abilities if I can.     I grinned at him. The last I heard, you were sore at me for blattingit all over Ceres that Jaqueline Ravenhurst was missing, when shesneaked aboard McGuire.     He nodded perfunctorily. I was. I still think you should have told mewhat you were up to. But you did it, and you got results that I'd beenunable to get. I'm not going to let a momentary pique hang on as anirrational dislike. I like to think I have more sense than that.     Thanks. There wasn't much else I could say.     Now, I've got a little dough put away; it's not much, but I couldoffer you—     I shook my head, cutting him off. Nope. Sorry, Brock. For two reasons.In the first place, there would be a conflict of interest. I'm workingfor Ravenhurst, and if he doesn't want  [23]  me to work for you, then itwould be unethical for me to take the job.     In the second place, my fees are standardized. Oh, I can allow acertain amount of fluctuation, but I'm not a physician or a lawyer; myservices are  [24]  not necessary to the survival of the individual, exceptin very rare cases, and those cases are generally arranged through alawyer when it's a charity case.     No, colonel, I'm afraid I couldn't  [25]  possibly work for you.     He thought that over for a long time. Finally, he nodded his head veryslowly. I see. Yeah, I get your point. He scowled down at his drink.           But     , I said, it would be a pleasure  [26]  to work      with     you.     He looked up quickly. How's that?     Well, let's look at it this way: You can't hire me because I'm alreadyworking for Ravenhurst; I can't hire  [27]  you because      you're     working forRavenhurst. But since we may need each other, and since we're bothworking for Ravenhurst, there would be no conflict of interest if weco-operate.     Or, to put it another way, I can't take money for any service I mayrender you, but you can pay off in services. Am I coming through?     His broad smile made the scars on his face fold in and deepen. Loudand clear. It's a deal.     I held up a hand, palm toward him. Ah, ah, ah! There's no 'deal'involved. We're just old buddies helping each other. This is forfriendship, not business. I scratch your back; you scratch mine. Fair?     Fair. Come on down to my office; I want to give you a headful of factsand figures.     Will do. Let me finish my guzzle.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How are individuals lacking psi-powers perceived in the society depicted in Jack of No Trades?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the nature of the bond between Kevin and his mother in the story ""Jack of No Trades""? [SEP] <s>   Jack of No Trades     By EVELYN E. SMITH     Illustrated by CAVAT     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy October 1955.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright     on this publication was renewed.]        I was psick of Psi powers, not having any. Or didn't I? Maybe they'dpsee otherwise psomeday!        I walked into the dining room and collided with a floating mass offabric, which promptly draped itself over me like a sentient shroud.     Oh, for God's sake, Kevin! my middle brother's voice came muffledthrough the folds. If you can't help, at least don't hinder!     I managed to struggle out of the tablecloth, even though it seemed tobe trying to wrap itself around me. When Danny got excited, he lost hismental grip.     I could help, I yelled as soon as I got my head free, if anybodywould let me and, what's more, I could set the table a damn sightfaster by hand than you do with 'kinesis.     Just then Father appeared at the head of the table. He could as easilyhave walked downstairs as teleported, but I belonged to a family ofexhibitionists. And Father tended to show off as if he were still akid. Not that he looked his age—he was big and blond, like Danny andTim and me, and could have passed for our older brother.     Boys, boys! he reproved us. Danny, you ought to be ashamed ofyourself—picking on poor Kev.     Even if it hadn't been Danny's fault, he would still have been blamed.     Nobody was ever supposed to raise a voice or a hand or a thought topoor afflicted Kev, because nature had picked on me enough. And thenicer everybody was to me, the nastier I became, since only when theylost their tempers could I get—or so I believed—their true attitudetoward me.     How else could I tell?     Sorry, fella, Dan apologized to me. The tablecloth spread itself outon the table. Wrinkles, he grumbled to himself. Wrinkles. And I hadit so nice and smooth before. Mother will be furious.     If she were going to be furious, she'd be furious already, Fatherreminded him sadly. It must be tough to be married to a deep-probetelepath, I thought, and I felt a sudden wave of sympathy for him. Itwas so seldom I got the chance to feel sorry for anyone except myself.But I think you'll find she understands.     She knows, all right, Danny remarked as he went on into the kitchen,but I'm not sure she always understands.     I was surprised to find him so perceptive on the abstract level,because he wasn't what you might call an understanding person, either.  <doc-sep>There are tensions in this room, my sister announced as she slouchedin, not quite awake yet, and hatred. I could feel them all the wayupstairs. And today I'm working on the Sleepsweet Mattress copy, so Imust feel absolutely tranquil. Everyone will think beautiful thoughts,please.     She sat down just as a glass of orange juice was arriving at herplace; Danny apparently didn't know she'd come in already. The glassbumped into the back of her neck, tilted and poured its contents overher shoulder and down her very considerable decolletage. Being a mereprimitive, I couldn't help laughing.     Danny, you fumbler! she screamed.     Danny erupted from the kitchen. How many times have I asked all of younot to sit down until I've got everything on the table? Always a lot ofinterfering busybodies getting in the way.     I don't see why you have to set the table at all, she retorted. Arobot could do it better and faster than you. Even Kev could. Sheturned quickly toward me. Oh, I am sorry, Kevin.     I didn't say anything; I was too busy pressing my hands down on theback of the chair to make my knuckles turn white.     Sylvia's face turned even whiter. Father, stop him—      stop     him! He'shating again! I can't stand it!     Father looked at me, then at her. I don't think he can help it,Sylvia.     I grinned. That's right—I'm just a poor atavism with no control overmyself a-tall.     Finally my mother came in from the kitchen; she was an old-fashionedwoman and didn't hold with robocooks. One quick glance at me gave herthe complete details, even though I quickly protested, It's illegal toprobe anyone without permission.     I used to probe you to find out when you needed your diapers changed,she said tartly, and I'll probe you now. You should watch yourself,Sylvia—poor Kevin isn't responsible.     She didn't need to probe to get the blast of naked emotion that spurtedout from me. My sister screamed and even Father looked uncomfortable.Danny stomped back into the kitchen, muttering to himself.     Mother's lips tightened. Sylvia, go upstairs and change your dress.Kevin, do I have to make an appointment for you at the clinic again?A psychiatrist never diagnosed members of his own family—that is, notofficially; they couldn't help offering thumbnail diagnoses any morethan they could help having thumbnails.     No use, I said, deciding it was safe to drop into my chair. Who canadjust me to an environment to which I'm fundamentally unsuited?     Maybe there is something physically wrong with him, Amy, my fathersuggested hopefully. Maybe you should make an appointment for him atthe cure-all?     Mother shook her neatly coiffed head. He's been to it dozens of timesand he always checks out in splendid shape. None of us can spare thetime to go with him again, just on an off-chance, and he could hardlybe allowed to make such a long trip all by himself. Pity there isn't amachine in every community, but, then, we don't really need them.  <doc-sep>III     Oh, yes, and Jamieson had a feeble paper on what he calledindividualization in marine worms. Barr, have you ever thought muchabout the larger aspects of the problem of individuality?     Jack jumped slightly. He had let his thoughts wander very far.     Not especially, sir, he mumbled.     The house was still. A few minutes after the professor's arrival,Mrs. Kesserich had gone off with an anxious glance at Jack. He knewwhy and wished he could reassure her that he would not mention theirconversation to the professor.     Kesserich had spent perhaps a half hour briefing him on the moreimportant papers delivered at the conferences. Then, almost as ifit were a teacher's trick to show up a pupil's inattention, he hadsuddenly posed this question about individuality.     You know what I mean, of course, Kesserich pressed. The factors thatmake you you, and me me.     Heredity and environment, Jack parroted like a freshman.     Kesserich nodded. Suppose—this is just speculation—that we couldcontrol heredity and environment. Then we could re-create the sameindividual at will.     Jack felt a shiver go through him. To get exactly the same pattern ofhereditary traits. That'd be far beyond us.     What about identical twins? Kesserich pointed out. And then there'sparthenogenesis to be considered. One might produce a duplicate of themother without the intervention of the male. Although his voice hadgrown more idly speculative, Kesserich seemed to Jack to be smilingsecretly. There are many examples in the lower animal forms, to saynothing of the technique by which Loeb caused a sea urchin to reproducewith no more stimulus than a salt solution.     Jack felt the hair rising on his neck. Even then you wouldn't getexactly the same pattern of hereditary traits.     Not if the parent were of very pure stock? Not if there were somespecial technique for selecting ova that would reproduce all themother's traits?     But environment would change things, Jack objected. The duplicatewould be bound to develop differently.     Is environment so important? Newman tells about a pair of identicaltwins separated from birth, unaware of each other's existence. They metby accident when they were twenty-one. Each was a telephone repairman.Each had a wife the same age. Each had a baby son. And each had a foxterrier called 'Trixie.' That's without trying to make environmentssimilar. But suppose you did try. Suppose you saw to it that each ofthem had exactly the same experiences at the same times....     For a moment it seemed to Jack that the room was dimming and wavering,becoming a dark pool in which the only motionless thing was Kesserich'ssphinx-like face.     Well, we've escaped quite far enough from Jamieson's marine worms,the biologist said, all brisk again. He said it as if Jack were theone who had led the conversation down wild and unprofitable channels.Let's get on to your project. I want to talk it over now, because Iwon't have any time for it tomorrow.     Jack looked at him blankly.     Tomorrow I must attend to a very important matter, the biologistexplained.  <doc-sep>It isn't so much our defense that worries me, my mother muttered, aslack of adequate medical machinery. War is bound to mean casualtiesand there aren't enough cure-alls on the planet to take care of them.It's useless to expect the government to build more right now; they'llbe too busy producing weapons. Sylvia, you'd better take a leave ofabsence from your job and come down to Psycho Center to learn first-aidtechniques. And you too, Kevin, she added, obviously a littlesurprised herself at what she was saying. Probably you'd be evenbetter at it than Sylvia since you aren't sensitive to other people'spain.     I looked at her.     It      is     an ill wind, she agreed, smiling wryly, but don't let mecatch you thinking that way, Kevin. Can't you see it would be betterthat there should be no war and you should remain useless?     I couldn't see it, of course, and she knew that, with her wretchedtalent for stripping away my feeble attempts at privacy. Psi-powersusually included some ability to form a mental shield; being withoutone, I was necessarily devoid of the other.     My attitude didn't matter, though, because it was definitely war. Thealiens came back with a fleet clearly bent on our annihilation—eventhe 'paths couldn't figure out their motives, for the thought patternwas entirely different from ours—and the war was on.     I had enjoyed learning first-aid; it was the first time I had everworked with people as an equal. And I was good at it because psi-powersaren't much of an advantage there. Telekinesis maybe a little, butI was big enough to lift anybody without needing any superhumanabilities—normal human abilities, rather.     Gee, Mr. Faraday, one of the other students breathed, you're sostrong. And without 'kinesis or anything.     I looked at her and liked what I saw. She was blonde and pretty. Myname's not Mr. Faraday, I said. It's Kevin.     My name's Lucy, she giggled.     No girl had ever giggled at me in that way before. Immediately Istarted to envision a beautiful future for the two of us, then flushedwhen I realized that she might be a telepath. But she was winding atourniquet around the arm of another member of the class with apparentunconcern.     Hey, quit that! the windee yelled. You're making it too tight! I'llbe mortified!     So Lucy was obviously not a telepath. Later I found out she was onlya low-grade telesensitive—just a poetess—so I had nothing to worryabout as far as having my thoughts read went. I was a little afraid ofSylvia's kidding me about my first romance, but, as it happened, shegot interested in one of the guys who was taking the class with us, andshe was not only too busy to be bothered with me, but in too vulnerablea position herself.     However, when the actual bombs—or their alien equivalent—struck nearour town, I wasn't nearly so happy, especially after they startedcarrying the wounded into the Psycho Center, which had been turned intoa hospital for the duration. I took one look at the gory scene—I hadnever seen anybody really injured before; few people had, as a matterof fact—and started for the door. But Mother was already blocking theway. It was easy to see from which side of the family Tim had got histalent for prognostication.     If the telepaths who can pick up all the pain can stand this, Kevin,she said,       you     certainly can. And there was no kindness at all inthe      you     .     She gave me a shove toward the nearest stretcher. Go on—now's yourchance to show you're of some use in this world.  <doc-sep>I smiled at him gratefully; he was the only member of my family whoreally seemed to like me in spite of my handicap. It won't work, Tim.I know you're trying to be kind, but—     He's not saying it just to be kind, my mother put in. He means it.Not that I want to arouse false hopes, Kevin, she added with grimscrupulousness. Tim's awfully young yet and I wouldn't trust hisextracurricular prognostications too far.     Nonetheless, I couldn't help feeling a feeble renewal of old hopes.After all, young or not, Tim was a hell of a good prognosticator; hewouldn't have risen so rapidly to the position he held in the WeatherBureau if he hadn't been pretty near tops in foreboding.     Mother smiled sadly at my thoughts, but I didn't let that discourageme. As Danny had said, she      knew     but she didn't really      understand     .Nobody, for all of his or her psi power, really understood me.  <doc-sep>   THE LORELEI DEATH     by NELSON S. BOND     Far out in limitless Space she plied     her deadly trade ... a Lorelei of the     void, beckoning spacemen to death and     destruction with her beautiful siren lure.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Winter 1941.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Chip Warren stood before an oblong of glass set into one wall ofthe spaceship      Chickadee II     , stared at what he saw reflectedtherefrom—and frowned. He didn't like it. Not a bit! It was too—too—     He turned away angrily, ripped the offending article from about hisneck, and chose another necktie from the rack. This one was brighter,gaudier, much more in keeping with the gaiety of his mood. He emitted agrunt of satisfaction, spun from the mirror to face his two companionstriumphantly.     There! How do you like      that     ?     Syd Palmer, short and chubby, tow-headed and liquid-blue of eye, alwayslanguid save when engaged in the solution of some engineering problemconcerned with the space vessel he mothered like a brooding hen, moanedinsultingly and forced a shudder.     Sunspots! Novae! Flying comets! And he wears 'em around his neck!     You, Chip told him serenely, have no appreciation of beauty. What do      you     think of it, Padre?     Salvation Smith, a tall, gangling scarecrow garbed in rusty black,a lean-jawed, hawkeyed man with tumbled locks of silver framing hisweathered cheeks like a halo, concealed his grin poorly. Well,my boy, he admitted, there is      some     Biblical precedent foryour—ahem!—clamorous raiment. 'So Joseph made for himself a coatwhich was of many colors—'     Both of you, declared Chip, give me a pain in the pants!Stick-in-the-muds! Here we are in port for the first time in months,cargo-bins loaded to the gunwales with enough ekalastron to make usrich for life—and you sit here like a pair of stuffed owls!     Well, not me! I'm going to take a night off, throw myself a party thelikes of which was never seen around these parts. Put a candle in thewindow, chilluns, 'cause li'l' Chip won't be home till the wee, sma'hours!     Syd chuckled.     O.Q., big shot. But don't get too cozy with any of those joy-jointentertainers. Remember what happened to poor old Dougal MacNeer!     Salvation said soberly, Syd's just fooling, my boy. But I      would     becareful if I were you. We're in the Belt, you know. The forces of lawand order do not always govern these wild outposts of civilization aswell as might be hoped. The planetoids are dens of iniquity, violentand unheeding the words of Him who rules all—     The old man's lips etched a straight line, reminding Chip thatSalvation Smith was not one of those milk-and-water missionaries whoespoused the principle of turning the other cheek to evildoers.Salvation was not the ordained emissary of any church. A devoutlyreligious man with the heart of an adventurer, he had taken uponhimself the mission of carrying to outland tribes the story of the Godhe worshipped.     That his God was the fierce Yahveh of the Old Testament, a God ofanger and retribution, was made evident by the methods Salvationsometimes employed in winning his converts. For not only was Salvationacknowledged the most pious man in space; he was also conceded to bethe best hand with a gun!     Now Chip gave quiet answer. I know, Padre: I'll be careful. Well,Syd—sure you won't change your mind and come along?     No can do, chum. The spaceport repair crew's still smearing thisjalopy with ek. Got to stay and watch 'em.     O.Q. I'm off alone, then. See you later!     And, whistling, Chip Warren stepped through the lock of the      Chickadee     onto the soil of the asteroid Danae.  <doc-sep>Everybody has a name, and I knew if I went off somewhere quiet andthought about it, mine would come to me. Meanwhile, I would tell thegirl that my name was ... Kevin O'Malley. Abruptly I realized that that      was     my name.     Kevin, I told her. John Kevin.     Mister Kevin, she said, her words dancing with bright absurdity likewaterhose mist on a summer afternoon, I wonder if you could help      me     .     Happy to, miss, I mumbled.     She pushed a white rectangle in front of me on the painted maroon bar.What do you think of this?     I looked at the piece of paper. It was a coupon from a magazine.       Dear Acolyte R. I. S.     :       Please send me FREE of obligation, in sealed wrapper, The ScarletBook revealing to me how I may gain Secret Mastery of the Universe.         Name     : ........................       Address     : .....................     The world disoriented itself and I was on the floor of the somber dinerand Miss Vivian Casey was out of sight and scent.     There was a five dollar bill tight in my fist. The counterman wastrying to pull it out.     I looked up at his stubbled face. I had half a dozen hamburgers, acup of coffee and a glass of milk. I want four more 'burgers to go anda pint of coffee. By your prices, that will be one sixty-five—if thelady didn't pay you.     She didn't, he stammered. Why do you think I was trying to get thatbill out of your hand?     I didn't say anything, just got up off the floor. After the countermanput down my change, I spread out the five dollar bill on the vacantbar, smoothing it.     I scooped up my change and walked out the door. There was no one on thesidewalk, only in the doorways.  <doc-sep>The blow shook the gun from my fingers. It almost fell into the      thing     on the floor, but at the last moment seemed to change direction andmiss it.     I knew something. I don't wash because I drink coffee.     It's all right to drink coffee, isn't it? he asked.     Of course, I said, and added absurdly, That's why I don't wash.     You mean, Andre said slowly, ploddingly, that if you bathed, youwould be admitting that drinking coffee was in the same class as anyother solitary vice that makes people wash frequently.     I was knocked to my knees.     Kevin, the Martian said, drinking coffee represents a major viceonly in Centurian humanoids, not Earth-norm human beings.      Which areyou?          Nothing came out of my gabbling mouth.           What is Doc's full name?          I almost fell in, but at the last instant I caught myself and said,Doctor Kevin O'Malley, Senior.     From the bed, Doc said a word. Son.     Then he disappeared.     I looked at that which he had made. I wondered where he had gone, insearch of what.     He didn't use that, Andre said.     So I was an Earthman, Doc's son. So my addiction to coffee was all inmy mind. That didn't change anything. They say sex is all in your mind.I didn't want to be cured. I wouldn't be. Doc was gone. That was all Ihad now. That and the      thing     he left.     The rest is simple, Andre said. Doc O'Malley bought up all the stockin a certain ancient metaphysical order and started supplying memberswith certain books. Can you imagine the effect of the      Book of Dyzan     or the      Book of Thoth     or the      Seven Cryptical Books of Hsan     or the      Necronomican     itself on human beings?     But they don't exist, I said wearily.     Exactly, Kevin, exactly. They have never existed any more than yourVictorian detective friend. But the unconscious racial mind has reachedback into time and created them. And that unconscious mind, deeper thanpsychology terms the subconscious, has always known about the powersof ESP, telepathy, telekinesis, precognition. Through these books,the human race can tell itself how to achieve a state of pure logic,without food, without sex, without conflict—just as Doc has achievedsuch a state—a little late, true. He had a powerful guilt complex,even stronger than your withdrawal, over releasing this blessing onthe inhabited universe, but reason finally prevailed. He had reached astate of pure thought.     The North American government      has     to have this secret, Kevin, thegirl said. You can't let it fall into the hands of the Martians.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the nature of the bond between Kevin and his mother in the story ""Jack of No Trades""?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a brief summary of the storyline in Orphans of the Void? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>   Orphans of the Void     By MICHAEL SHAARA     Illustrated by EMSH     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction June 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Finding a cause worth dying for is no       great trick—the Universe is full of them. Finding       one worth living for is the genuine problem!        In the region of the Coal Sack Nebula, on the dead fourth planet ofa star called Tyban, Captain Steffens of the Mapping Command stoodcounting buildings. Eleven. No, twelve. He wondered if there was anysignificance in the number. He had no idea.     What do you make of it? he asked.     Lieutenant Ball, the executive officer of the ship, almost tried toscratch his head before he remembered that he was wearing a spacesuit.     Looks like a temporary camp, Ball said. Very few buildings, and allbuilt out of native materials, the only stuff available. Castaways,maybe?     Steffens was silent as he walked up onto the rise. The flat weatheredstone jutted out of the sand before him.     No inscriptions, he pointed out.     They would have been worn away. See the wind grooves? Anyway, there'snot another building on the whole damn planet. You wouldn't call itmuch of a civilization.     You don't think these are native?     Ball said he didn't. Steffens nodded.     Standing there and gazing at the stone, Steffens felt the awe of greatage. He had a hunch, deep and intuitive, that this was old—      too     old.He reached out a gloved hand, ran it gently over the smooth stoneridges of the wall. Although the atmosphere was very thin, he noticedthat the buildings had no airlocks.     Ball's voice sounded in his helmet: Want to set up shop, Skipper?     Steffens paused. All right, if you think it will do any good.     You never can tell. Excavation probably won't be much use. Thesethings are on a raised rock foundation, swept clean by the wind. Andyou can see that the rock itself is native— he indicated the ledgebeneath their feet—and was cut out a long while back.     How long?     Ball toed the sand uncomfortably. I wouldn't like to say off-hand.     Make a rough estimate.     Ball looked at the captain, knowing what was in his mind. He smiledwryly and said: Five thousand years? Ten thousand? I don't know.     Steffens whistled.     Ball pointed again at the wall. Look at the striations. You can tellfrom that alone. It would take even a brisk Earth wind      at least     several thousand years to cut that deep, and the wind here has only afraction of that force.     The two men stood for a long moment in silence. Man had been ininterstellar space for three hundred years and this was the firstuncovered evidence of an advanced, space-crossing, alien race. It wasan historic moment, but neither of them was thinking about history.     Man had been in space for only three hundred years. Whatever had builtthese had been in space for thousands of years.     Which ought to give      them     , thought Steffens uncomfortably, one hell ofa good head-start.  <doc-sep>Lethla half-crouched in the midst of the smell of death and thechugging of blood-pumps below. In the silence he reached up with quickfingers, tapped a tiny crystal stud upon the back of his head, and thehalves of a microscopically thin chrysalis parted transparently offof his face. He shucked it off, trailing air-tendrils that had beeninserted, hidden in the uniform, ending in thin globules of oxygen.     He spoke. Triumph warmed his crystal-thin voice. That's how I did it,Earthman.     Glassite! said Rice. A face-moulded mask of glassite!     Lethla nodded. His milk-blue eyes dilated. Very marvelously pared toan unbreakable thickness of one-thirtieth of an inch; worn only on thehead. You have to look quickly to notice it, and, unfortunately, viewedas you saw it, outside the ship, floating in the void, not discernibleat all.     Prickles of sweat appeared on Rice's face. He swore at the Venusian andthe Venusian laughed like some sort of stringed instrument, high andquick.     Burnett laughed, too. Ironically. First time in years a man ever cameaboard the Constellation alive. It's a welcome change.     Lethla showed his needle-like teeth. I thought it might be. Where'syour radio?     Go find it! snapped Rice, hotly.     I will. One hand, blue-veined, on the ladder-rungs, Lethla paused.I know you're weaponless; Purple Cross regulations. And this air-lockis safe. Don't move. Whispering, his naked feet padded white up theladder. Two long breaths later something crashed; metal and glass andcoils. The radio.     Burnett put his shoulder blades against the wall-metal, looking at hisfeet. When he glanced up, Rice's fresh, animated face was spoiled bythe new bitterness in it.     Lethla came down. Like a breath of air on the rungs.     He smiled. That's better. Now. We can talk—     Rice said it, slow:     Interplanetary law declares it straight, Lethla! Get out! Only deadmen belong here.     Lethla's gun grip tightened. More talk of that nature, and only deadmen there will be. He blinked. But first—we must rescue Kriere....     Kriere! Rice acted as if he had been hit in the jaw.     Burnett moved his tongue back and forth on his lips silently, his eyeslidded, listening to the two of them as if they were a radio drama.Lethla's voice came next:     Rather unfortunately, yes. He's still alive, heading toward Venusat an orbital velocity of two thousand m.p.h., wearing one of theseair-chrysali. Enough air for two more hours. Our flag ship was attackedunexpectedly yesterday near Mars. We were forced to take to thelife-boats, scattering, Kriere and I in one, the others sacrificingtheir lives to cover our escape. We were lucky. We got through theEarth cordon unseen. But luck can't last forever.     We saw your morgue ship an hour ago. It's a long, long way to Venus.We were running out of fuel, food, water. Radio was broken. Capturewas certain. You were coming our way; we took the chance. We set asmall time-bomb to destroy the life-rocket, and cast off, wearing ourchrysali-helmets. It was the first time we had ever tried using them totrick anyone. We knew you wouldn't know we were alive until it was toolate and we controlled your ship. We knew you picked up all bodies forbrief exams, returning alien corpses to space later.     Rice's voice was sullen. A set-up for you, huh? Traveling under theprotection of the Purple Cross you can get your damned All-Mighty safeto Venus.     Lethla bowed slightly. Who would suspect a Morgue Rocket of providingsafe hiding for precious Venusian cargo?     Precious is the word for you, brother! said Rice.     Enough! Lethla moved his gun several inches.     Accelerate toward Venus, mote-detectors wide open. Kriere must bepicked up—      now!       <doc-sep>  THE SOUL EATERS     By WILLIAM CONOVER     Firebrand Dennis Brooke had one final chance     to redeem himself by capturing Koerber whose     ships were the scourge of the Void. But his     luck had run its course, and now he was     marooned on a rogue planet—fighting to save     himself from a menace weapons could not kill.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1944.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]            And so, my dear     , Dennis detected a faint irony in the phrase,       I'mafraid I can offer no competition to the beauties of five planets—oris it six? With regret I bow myself out, and knowing me as you do,you'll understand the futility of trying to convince me again. Anyway,there will be no temptation, for I'm sailing on a new assignment I'veaccepted. I did love you.... Good-by.          Dennis Brooke had lost count of the times he'd read Marla's lastletter, but every time he came to these final, poignant lines, theynever failed to conjure a vision of her tawny loveliness, slender asthe palms of Venus, and of the blue ecstasy of her eyes, wide with aperpetual wonder—limpid as a child's.     The barbaric rhythms of the      Congahua     , were a background of annoyancein Dennis' mind; he frowned slightly as the maneuvers of the Mercuriandancer, who writhed among the guests of the notorious pleasure palace,began to leave no doubt as to her intentions. The girl was beautiful,in a sultry, almost incandescent sort of way, but her open promise lefthim cold. He wanted solitude, somewhere to coordinate his thoughtsin silence and salvage something out of the wreck of his heart, notto speak of his career. But Venus, in the throes of a gigantic boomupon the discovery of radio-active fields, could offer only onesolitude—the fatal one of her swamps and virgin forests.     Dennis Brooke was thirty, the time when youth no longer seems unending.When the minor adventures of the heart begin to pall. If the loss ofMarla left an aching void that all the women of five planets could notfill, the loss of Space, was quite as deadly. For he had been grounded.True, Koerber's escape from the I.S.P. net had not quite been hisfault; but had he not been enjoying the joys of a voluptuous JovianChamber, in Venus' fabulous Inter-planetary Palace, he would have beenready for duty to complete the last link in the net of I.S.P. cruisersthat almost surrounded the space pirate.     A night in the Jovian Chamber, was to be emperor for one night. Everydream of a man's desire was marvelously induced through the skilful useof hypnotics; the rarest viands and most delectable drinks appeared asif by magic; the unearthly peace of an Olympus descended on a man'ssoul, and beauty ... beauty such as men dreamed of was a warm realityunder the ineffable illumination of the Chamber.     It cost a young fortune. But to pleasure mad, boom-ridden Venus, afortune was a bagatelle. Only it had cost Dennis Brooke far more than asheaf of credits—it had cost him the severe rebuff of the I.S.P., andmost of his heart in Marla.     Dennis sighed, he tilted his red, curly head and drank deeply of theinsidious      Verbena     , fragrant as a mint garden, in the tall frostyglass of Martian      Bacca-glas     , and as he did so, his brilliant hazeleyes found themselves gazing into the unwinking, violet stare of ayoung Martian at the next table. There was a smouldering hatred inthose eyes, and something else ... envy, perhaps, or was it jealousy?Dennis couldn't tell. But his senses became instantly alert. Dangerbrought a faint vibration which his superbly trained faculties couldinstantly denote.     His steady, bronzed hand lowered the drink, and his eyes narrowedslightly. Absorbed in trying to puzzle the sudden enmity of thisMartian stranger, he was unaware of the Mercurian Dancer. The latterhad edged closer, whirling in prismatic flashes from the myriadsemi-precious stones that studded her brief gauze skirt. And now, ina final bid for the spacer's favor she flung herself in his lap andtilted back invitingly.     Some of the guests laughed, others stared in plain envy at thehandsome, red-haired spacer, but from the table across, came thetinkling sound of a fragile glass being crushed in a powerful hand,and a muffled Martian curse. Without warning, the Martian was on hisfeet with the speed of an Hellacorium, the table went crashing to oneside as he leaped with deadly intent on the sprawled figure of DennisBrooke. A high-pitched scream brought instant silence as a Terran girlcried out. Then the Martian's hand reached out hungrily. But Dennis wasnot there.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>She shrugged. We have friends who can be bribed. A hiding place in thecity, the use of a small desert-taxi, a pass to leave the city—thesecan be had for a price.     You'll tell me your name?     Maggie.     Why did you save me?     Her eyes twinkled mischievously. Because you're a good astrogator.     His own eyes widened. How did you know that?     She sat on a plain chair beside his bed. I know everything about you,Lieutenant Curtis.     How did you learn my name? I destroyed all my papers—     I know that you're twenty-four. Born July 10, 1971. Orphaned at four,you attended Boys Town in the Catskills till you were 19. You graduatedfrom the Academy at White Sands last June with a major in Astrogation.Your rating for the five-year period was 3.8—the second highest in aclass of fifty-seven. Your only low mark in the five years was a 3.2 inHistory of Martian Civilization. Want me to go on?     Fascinated, Ben nodded.     You were accepted as junior astrogation officer aboard the      Odyssey     .You did well on your flight from Roswell to Luna City. In a barroomfight in Luna City, you struck and killed a man named Arthur Cobb, apre-fab salesman. You've been charged with second degree murder andescape. A reward of 5,000 credits has been offered for your capture.You came to Hoover City in the hope of finding a renegade group ofspacemen who operate beyond Mars. You were looking for them in theBlast Inn.     He gaped incredulously, struggling to rise from his pillows. I—don'tget it.     There are ways of finding out what we want to know. As I told you, wehave many friends.     He fell back into his pillows, breathing hard. She rose quickly.     I'm sorry, she said. I shouldn't have told you yet. I felt so happybecause you're alive. Rest now. We'll talk again soon.     Maggie, you—you said I'd live. You didn't say I'd be able to walkagain.     She lowered her gaze. I hope you'll be able to.     But you don't think I will, do you?     I don't know. We'll try walking tomorrow. Don't think about it now.Rest.     He tried to relax, but his mind was a vortex of conjecture.     Just one more question, he almost whispered.     Yes?     The man I killed—did he have a wife?     She hesitated. He thought,      Damn it, of all the questions, why did Iask that?       Finally she said, He had a wife.     Children?     Two. I don't know their ages.     She left the room.  <doc-sep>The mild shocks went on—whether from projectiles or energy-charges,would be hard to find out and it didn't matter; whatever was hittingthe      Quest III's     shell was doing it at velocities where thedistinction between matter and radiation practically ceases to exist.     But that shell was tough. It was an extension of the gravitic drivefield which transmitted the engines' power equally to every atom ofthe ship; forces impinging on the outside of the field were similarlytransmitted and rendered harmless. The effect was as if the vessel andall space inside its field were a single perfectly elastic body. Ameteoroid, for example, on striking it rebounded—usually vaporized bythe impact—and the ship, in obedience to the law of equal and oppositeforces, rebounded too, but since its mass was so much greater, itsdeflection was negligible.     The people in the      Quest III     would have felt nothing at all ofthe vicious onslaught being hurled against them, save that theirinertialess drive, at its normal thrust of two hundred gravities,was intentionally operated at one half of one per cent efficiency toprovide the illusion of Earthly gravitation.     One of the officers said shakily, It's as if they've been lying inwait for us. But why on Earth—     That, said the captain grimly, is what we have to find out. Why—onEarth. At least, I suspect the answer's there.     The      Quest III     bored steadily on through space, decelerating. Even ifone were no fatalist, there seemed no reason to stop decelerating orchange course. There was nowhere else to go and too little fuel leftif there had been; come what might, this was journey's end—perhapsin a more violent and final way than had been anticipated. All aroundwheeled the pigmy enemies, circling, maneuvering, and attacking,always attacking, with the senseless fury of maddened hornets. Theinterstellar ship bore no offensive weapons—but suddenly on one of thevision screens a speck of light flared into nova-brilliance, dazzlingthe watchers for the brief moment in which its very atoms were tornapart.     Knof Jr. whooped ecstatically and then subsided warily, but no one waspaying attention to him. The men on the      Quest III's     bridge lookedquestions at each other, as the thought of help from outside flashedinto many minds at once. But Captain Llud said soberly, It must havecaught one of their own shots, reflected. Maybe its own, if it scoredtoo direct a hit.     He studied the data so far gathered. A few blurred pictures had beengot, which showed cylindrical space ships much like the      Quest III     ,except that they were rocket-propelled and of far lesser size. Theirsize was hard to ascertain, because you needed to know their distanceand speed—but detector-beam echoes gave the distance, and likewise, bythe Doppler method, the velocity of directly receding or approachingships. It was apparent that the enemy vessels were even smaller thanGwar Den had at first supposed—not large enough to hold even one man.Tiny, deadly hornets with a colossal sting.     Robot craft, no doubt, said Knof Llud, but a chill ran down his spineas it occurred to him that perhaps the attackers weren't of humanorigin. They had seen no recognizable life in the part of the galaxythey had explored, but one of the other      Quests     might have encounteredand been traced home by some unhuman race that was greedy and able toconquer.  <doc-sep>   THE AVENGER     By STUART FLEMING     Karson was creating a superman to fight the weird     super-monsters who had invaded Earth. But he was     forgetting one tiny thing—like calls to like.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Spring 1944.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Peter Karson was dead. He had been dead for some time now, butthe dark blood was still oozing from the crushed ruin of his face,trickling down into his sodden sleeve, and falling, drop by slow drop,from his fingertips. His head was tilted over the back of the chair ata queer, unnatural angle, so that the light made deep pools of shadowwhere his eyes had been.         There was no sound in the room except for the small splashing theblood made as it dropped into the sticky pool on the floor. The greatbanks of machinery around the walls were silent. I knew that they wouldnever come to life again.         I rose and walked over to the window. Outside, the stars were asbefore: tiny, myriad points of light, infinitely far away. They had notchanged, and yet they were suddenly no longer friendly. They were coldand alien. It was I who had changed: something inside me was dead, likethe machinery, and like Peter.         It was a kind of indefinable emptiness. I do not think it was whatPeter called an emotion; and yet it had nothing to do with logic,either. It was just an emptiness—a void that could not be filled byeating or drinking.         It was not a longing. I had no desire that things should be otherwisethan they were. I did not even wish that Peter were not dead, forreason had told me that he had to die. That was the end of it.         But the void was still there, unexplainable and impossible to ignore.For the first time in all my life I had found a problem that I couldnot solve. Strange, disturbing sensations stirred and whispered withinme, nagging, gnawing. And suddenly—something moved on the skin of mycheek. I raised a hand to it, slowly.         A tear was trickling down my cheek.    <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a brief summary of the storyline in Orphans of the Void?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the backdrop of Orphans of the Void? [SEP] <s>   Orphans of the Void     By MICHAEL SHAARA     Illustrated by EMSH     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction June 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Finding a cause worth dying for is no       great trick—the Universe is full of them. Finding       one worth living for is the genuine problem!        In the region of the Coal Sack Nebula, on the dead fourth planet ofa star called Tyban, Captain Steffens of the Mapping Command stoodcounting buildings. Eleven. No, twelve. He wondered if there was anysignificance in the number. He had no idea.     What do you make of it? he asked.     Lieutenant Ball, the executive officer of the ship, almost tried toscratch his head before he remembered that he was wearing a spacesuit.     Looks like a temporary camp, Ball said. Very few buildings, and allbuilt out of native materials, the only stuff available. Castaways,maybe?     Steffens was silent as he walked up onto the rise. The flat weatheredstone jutted out of the sand before him.     No inscriptions, he pointed out.     They would have been worn away. See the wind grooves? Anyway, there'snot another building on the whole damn planet. You wouldn't call itmuch of a civilization.     You don't think these are native?     Ball said he didn't. Steffens nodded.     Standing there and gazing at the stone, Steffens felt the awe of greatage. He had a hunch, deep and intuitive, that this was old—      too     old.He reached out a gloved hand, ran it gently over the smooth stoneridges of the wall. Although the atmosphere was very thin, he noticedthat the buildings had no airlocks.     Ball's voice sounded in his helmet: Want to set up shop, Skipper?     Steffens paused. All right, if you think it will do any good.     You never can tell. Excavation probably won't be much use. Thesethings are on a raised rock foundation, swept clean by the wind. Andyou can see that the rock itself is native— he indicated the ledgebeneath their feet—and was cut out a long while back.     How long?     Ball toed the sand uncomfortably. I wouldn't like to say off-hand.     Make a rough estimate.     Ball looked at the captain, knowing what was in his mind. He smiledwryly and said: Five thousand years? Ten thousand? I don't know.     Steffens whistled.     Ball pointed again at the wall. Look at the striations. You can tellfrom that alone. It would take even a brisk Earth wind      at least     several thousand years to cut that deep, and the wind here has only afraction of that force.     The two men stood for a long moment in silence. Man had been ininterstellar space for three hundred years and this was the firstuncovered evidence of an advanced, space-crossing, alien race. It wasan historic moment, but neither of them was thinking about history.     Man had been in space for only three hundred years. Whatever had builtthese had been in space for thousands of years.     Which ought to give      them     , thought Steffens uncomfortably, one hell ofa good head-start.  <doc-sep>She shrugged. We have friends who can be bribed. A hiding place in thecity, the use of a small desert-taxi, a pass to leave the city—thesecan be had for a price.     You'll tell me your name?     Maggie.     Why did you save me?     Her eyes twinkled mischievously. Because you're a good astrogator.     His own eyes widened. How did you know that?     She sat on a plain chair beside his bed. I know everything about you,Lieutenant Curtis.     How did you learn my name? I destroyed all my papers—     I know that you're twenty-four. Born July 10, 1971. Orphaned at four,you attended Boys Town in the Catskills till you were 19. You graduatedfrom the Academy at White Sands last June with a major in Astrogation.Your rating for the five-year period was 3.8—the second highest in aclass of fifty-seven. Your only low mark in the five years was a 3.2 inHistory of Martian Civilization. Want me to go on?     Fascinated, Ben nodded.     You were accepted as junior astrogation officer aboard the      Odyssey     .You did well on your flight from Roswell to Luna City. In a barroomfight in Luna City, you struck and killed a man named Arthur Cobb, apre-fab salesman. You've been charged with second degree murder andescape. A reward of 5,000 credits has been offered for your capture.You came to Hoover City in the hope of finding a renegade group ofspacemen who operate beyond Mars. You were looking for them in theBlast Inn.     He gaped incredulously, struggling to rise from his pillows. I—don'tget it.     There are ways of finding out what we want to know. As I told you, wehave many friends.     He fell back into his pillows, breathing hard. She rose quickly.     I'm sorry, she said. I shouldn't have told you yet. I felt so happybecause you're alive. Rest now. We'll talk again soon.     Maggie, you—you said I'd live. You didn't say I'd be able to walkagain.     She lowered her gaze. I hope you'll be able to.     But you don't think I will, do you?     I don't know. We'll try walking tomorrow. Don't think about it now.Rest.     He tried to relax, but his mind was a vortex of conjecture.     Just one more question, he almost whispered.     Yes?     The man I killed—did he have a wife?     She hesitated. He thought,      Damn it, of all the questions, why did Iask that?       Finally she said, He had a wife.     Children?     Two. I don't know their ages.     She left the room.  <doc-sep>The first thing about the derelict that struck us as we drew near washer size. No ship ever built in the Foundation Yards had ever attainedsuch gargantuan proportions. She must have stretched a full thousandfeet from bow to stern, a sleek torpedo shape of somehow unspeakablealienness. Against the backdrop of the Milky Way, she gleamed fitfullyin the light of the faraway sun, the metal of her flanks grained withsomething like tiny, glittering whorls. It was as though the stuffwere somehow unstable ... seeking balance ... maybe even alive in somestrange and alien way.     It was readily apparent to all of us that she had never been built forinter-planetary flight. She was a starship. Origin unknown. An aura ofmystery surrounded her like a shroud, protecting the world that gaveher birth mutely but effectively. The distance she must have come wasunthinkable. And the time it had taken...? Aeons. Millennia. For shewas drifting, dead in space, slowly spinning end over end as she swungabout Sol in a hyperbolic orbit that would soon take her out and awayagain into the inter-stellar deeps.     Something had wounded her ... perhaps ten million years ago ... perhapsyesterday. She was gashed deeply from stem to stern with a jagged ripthat bared her mangled innards. A wandering asteroid? A meteor? Wewould never know. It gave me an uncomfortable feeling of things beyondthe ken of men as I looked at her through the port. I would never knowwhat killed her, or where she was going, or whence she came. Yet shewas mine. It made me feel like an upstart. And it made me afraid ...but of what?     We should have reported her to the nearest EMV base, but that wouldhave meant that we'd lose her. Scientists would be sent out. Men betterequipped than we to investigate the first extrasolar artifact found bymen. But I didn't report her. She was ours. She was money in the bank.Let the scientists take over after we'd put a prize crew aboard andbrought her into Callisto for salvage.... That's the way I had thingsfigured.     The Maid hove to about a hundred yards from her and hung there, dwarfedby the mighty glistening ship. I called for volunteers and we prepareda boarding party. I was thinking that her drives alone would be worthmillions. Cohn took charge and he and three of the men suited up andcrossed to her.     In an hour they were back, disappointment largely written on theirfaces.     There's nothing left of her, Captain, Cohn reported, Whatever hither tore up the innards so badly we couldn't even find the drives.She's a mess inside. Nothing left but the hull and a few storagecompartments that are still unbroken.     She was never built to carry humanoids he told us, and there wasnothing that could give us a hint of where she had come from. The hullalone was left.     He dropped two chunks of metal on my desk. I brought back some samplesof her pressure hull, he said, The whole thing is made of thisstuff....     We'll still take her in, I said, hiding my disappointment. Thecarcass will be worth money in Callisto. Have Mister Marvin andZaleski assemble a spare pulse-jet. We'll jury-rig her and bring herdown under her own power. You take charge of provisioning her. Checkthose compartments you found and install oxy-generators aboard. Whenit's done report to me in my quarters.     I picked up the two samples of gleaming metal and called for ametallurgical testing kit. I'm going to try and find out if this stuffis worth anything....     The metal was heavy—too heavy, it seemed to me, for spaceshipconstruction. But then, who was to say what conditions existed on thatdistant world where this metal was made?     Under the bright fluorescent over my work-table, the chunks of metaltorn from a random bulkhead of the starship gleamed like pale silver;those strange little whorls that I had noticed on the outer hull werethere too, like tiny magnetic lines of force, making the surface ofthe metal seem to dance. I held the stuff in my bare hand.      It had ayellowish tinge, and it was heavier     ....     Even as I watched, the metal grew yellower, and the hand that heldit grew bone weary, little tongues of fatigue licking up my forearm.Suddenly terrified, I dropped the chunk as though it were white hot. Itstruck the table with a dull thud and lay there, a rich yellow lump ofmetallic lustre.     For a long while I just sat and stared. Then I began testing, tryingall the while to quiet the trembling of my hands. I weighed it on abalance. I tested it with acids. It had changed unquestionably. Itwas no longer the same as when I had carried it into my quarters. Thewhorls of force were gone. It was no longer alive with a questingvibrancy ... it was inert, stable. From somewhere, somehow, it haddrawn the energy necessary for transmutation. The unknown metal—thestuff of which that whole mammoth spaceship from the stars wasbuilt—was now....       Gold!       I scarcely dared believe it, but there it was staring at me from mytable-top.      Gold!       I searched my mind for an explanation. Contra-terrene matter, perhaps,from some distant island universe where matter reacted differently ...drawing energy from somewhere, the energy it needed to find stabilityin its new environment. Stability as a terrene element—wonderfully,miraculously gold!     And outside, in the void beyond the Maid's ports there were tons ofthis metal that could be turned into treasure. My laughter must havebeen a wild sound in those moments of discovery....  <doc-sep>  THE GIANTS RETURN     By ROBERT ABERNATHY     Earth set itself grimly to meet them with     corrosive fire, determined to blast them     back to the stars. But they erred in thinking     the Old Ones were too big to be clever.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      In the last hours the star ahead had grown brighter by many magnitudes,and had changed its color from a dazzling blue through white to thenormal yellow, of a GO sun. That was the Doppler effect as the star'sradial velocity changed relative to the      Quest III     , as for forty hoursthe ship had decelerated.     They had seen many such stars come near out of the galaxy's glitteringbackdrop, and had seen them dwindle, turn red and go out as the      QuestIII     drove on its way once more, lashed by despair toward the speed oflight, leaving behind the mockery of yet another solitary and lifelessluminary unaccompanied by worlds where men might dwell. They had grownsated with the sight of wonders—of multiple systems of giant stars, ofnebulae that sprawled in empty flame across light years.     But now unwonted excitement possessed the hundred-odd members of the      Quest III's     crew. It was a subdued excitement; men and women, theycame and stood quietly gazing into the big vision screens that showedthe oncoming star, and there were wide-eyed children who had been bornin the ship and had never seen a planet. The grownups talked in lowvoices, in tones of mingled eagerness and apprehension, of what mightlie at the long journey's end. For the      Quest III     was coming home; thesun ahead was      the     Sun, whose rays had warmed their lives' beginning.  <doc-sep>   THE AVENGER     By STUART FLEMING     Karson was creating a superman to fight the weird     super-monsters who had invaded Earth. But he was     forgetting one tiny thing—like calls to like.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Spring 1944.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Peter Karson was dead. He had been dead for some time now, butthe dark blood was still oozing from the crushed ruin of his face,trickling down into his sodden sleeve, and falling, drop by slow drop,from his fingertips. His head was tilted over the back of the chair ata queer, unnatural angle, so that the light made deep pools of shadowwhere his eyes had been.         There was no sound in the room except for the small splashing theblood made as it dropped into the sticky pool on the floor. The greatbanks of machinery around the walls were silent. I knew that they wouldnever come to life again.         I rose and walked over to the window. Outside, the stars were asbefore: tiny, myriad points of light, infinitely far away. They had notchanged, and yet they were suddenly no longer friendly. They were coldand alien. It was I who had changed: something inside me was dead, likethe machinery, and like Peter.         It was a kind of indefinable emptiness. I do not think it was whatPeter called an emotion; and yet it had nothing to do with logic,either. It was just an emptiness—a void that could not be filled byeating or drinking.         It was not a longing. I had no desire that things should be otherwisethan they were. I did not even wish that Peter were not dead, forreason had told me that he had to die. That was the end of it.         But the void was still there, unexplainable and impossible to ignore.For the first time in all my life I had found a problem that I couldnot solve. Strange, disturbing sensations stirred and whispered withinme, nagging, gnawing. And suddenly—something moved on the skin of mycheek. I raised a hand to it, slowly.         A tear was trickling down my cheek.    <doc-sep>   The Sense of Wonder     By MILTON LESSER     Illustrated by HARRY ROSENBAUM     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      When nobody aboard ship remembers where it's     going, how can they tell when it has arrived?      Every day for a week now, Rikud had come to the viewport to watchthe great changeless sweep of space. He could not quite explain thefeelings within him; they were so alien, so unnatural. But ever sincethe engines somewhere in the rear of the world had changed their tone,from the steady whining Rikud had heard all twenty-five years of hislife, to the sullen roar that came to his ears now, the feelings hadgrown.     If anyone else had noticed the change, he failed to mention it. Thisdisturbed Rikud, although he could not tell why. And, because he hadrealized this odd difference in himself, he kept it locked up insidehim.     Today, space looked somehow different. The stars—it was a meaninglessconcept to Rikud, but that was what everyone called the brightpinpoints of light on the black backdrop in the viewport—were notapparent in the speckled profusion Rikud had always known. Instead,there was more of the blackness, and one very bright star set apartby itself in the middle of the viewport.     If he had understood the term, Rikud would have told himself this wasodd. His head ached with the half-born thought. It was—it was—whatwas it?     Someone was clomping up the companionway behind Rikud. He turned andgreeted gray-haired old Chuls.     In five more years, the older man chided, you'll be ready to sirechildren. And all you can do in the meantime is gaze out at the stars.     Rikud knew he should be exercising now, or bathing in the rays of thehealth-lamps. It had never occurred to him that he didn't feel like it;he just didn't, without comprehending.     Chuls' reminder fostered uneasiness. Often Rikud had dreamed of thetime he would be thirty and a father. Whom would the Calculator selectas his mate? The first time this idea had occurred to him, Rikudignored it. But it came again, and each time it left him with a feelinghe could not explain. Why should he think thoughts that no other manhad? Why should he think he was thinking such thoughts, when it alwaysembroiled him in a hopeless, infinite confusion that left him with aheadache?     Chuls said, It is time for my bath in the health-rays. I saw you hereand knew it was your time, too....     His voice trailed off. Rikud knew that something which he could notexplain had entered the elder man's head for a moment, but it haddeparted almost before Chuls knew of its existence.     I'll go with you, Rikud told him.  <doc-sep>The air-lock door was still wide open when Click reached it, his headswimming darkly, his lungs crammed with pain-fire and hell-rockets. Helet himself down in, quiet and soft. He didn't have a weapon. He didn'thave a weapon. Oh, damn, damn!     A tunnel curved, ending in light, and two men silhouetted in thatyellow glare. Marnagan, backed against a wall, his helmet cracked,air hissing slowly out of it, his face turning blue. And the guard, aproton gun extended stiffly before him, also in a vac-suit. The guardhad his profile toward Hathaway, his lips twisting: I think I'll letyou stand right there and die, he said quietly. That what Guntherwanted, anway. A nice sordid death.     Hathaway took three strides, his hands out in front of him.     Don't move! he snapped. I've got a weapon stronger than yours. Onetwitch and I'll blast you and the whole damned wall out from behindyou! Freeze!     The guard whirled. He widened his sharp eyes, and reluctantly, droppedhis gun to the floor.     Get his gun, Irish.     Marnagan made as if to move, crumpled clumsily forward.     Hathaway ran in, snatched up the gun, smirked at the guard. Thanks forposing, he said. That shot will go down in film history for candidacting.     What!     Ah: ah! Keep your place. I've got a real gun now. Where's the doorleading into the Base?     The guard moved his head sullenly over his left shoulder.     Click was afraid he would show his weak dizziness. He needed air.Okay. Drag Marnagan with you, open the door and we'll have air. Doubletime! Double!     Ten minutes later, Marnagan and Hathaway, fresh tanks of oxygen ontheir backs, Marnagan in a fresh bulger and helmet, trussed the guard,hid him in a huge trash receptacle. Where he belongs, observed Irishtersely.     They found themselves in a complete inner world; an asteroid nothingmore than a honey-comb fortress sliding through the void unchallenged.Perfect front for a raider who had little equipment and wasshort-handed of men. Gunther simply waited for specific cargo ships torocket by, pulled them or knocked them down and swarmed over them forcargo. The animals served simply to insure against suspicion and theswarms of tourists that filled the void these days. Small fry weren'twanted. They were scared off.     The telepathic sending station for the animals was a great bank ofintricate, glittering machine, through which strips of colored filmwith images slid into slots and machine mouths that translated theminto thought-emanations. A damned neat piece of genius.     So here we are, still not much better off than we were, growledIrish. We haven't a ship or a space-radio, and more guards'll turnup any moment. You think we could refocus this doohingey, project themonsters inside the asteroid to fool the pirates themselves?     What good would that do? Hathaway gnawed his lip. They wouldn't foolthe engineers who created them, you nut.     Marnagan exhaled disgustedly. Ah, if only the U.S. Cavalry would comeriding over the hill—  <doc-sep>In the evening a girl brought Maitland his meal. As the door slidaside, he automatically stood up, and they stared at each other forseveral seconds.     She had the high cheekbones and almond eyes of an Oriental, skin thatglowed like gold in the evening light, yet thick coiled braids ofblonde hair that glittered like polished brass. Shorts and a sleevelessblouse of some thick, reddish, metallic-looking fabric clung to herbody, and over that she was wearing a light, ankle-length cloak of whatseemed to be white wool.     She was looking at him with palpable curiosity and something likeexpectancy. Maitland sighed and said, Hello, then glanced downself-consciously at his wrinkled green pajamas.       She smiled, put the tray of food on the table, and swept out, her cloakbillowing behind her. Maitland remained standing, staring at the closeddoor for a minute after she was gone.     Later, when he had finished the steak and corn on the cob and shreddedcarrots, and a feeling of warm well-being was diffusing from hisstomach to his extremities, he sat down on the bed to watch the sunsetand to think.     There were three questions for which he required answers before hecould formulate any plan or policy.     Where was he?     Who was Swarts?     What was the purpose of the tests he was being given?     It was possible, of course, that this was all an elaborate schemefor getting military secrets, despite Swarts' protestations to thecontrary. Maitland frowned. This place certainly didn't have theappearance of a military establishment, and so far there had beennothing to suggest the kind of interrogation to be expected fromforeign intelligence officers.     It might be better to tackle the first question first. He looked atthe Sun, a red spheroid already half below the horizon, and tried tothink of a region that had this kind of terrain. That prairie out therewas unique. Almost anywhere in the world, land like that would becultivated, not allowed to go to grass.     This might be somewhere in Africa....     He shook his head, puzzled. The Sun disappeared and its blood-huedglow began to fade from the sky. Maitland sat there, trying to gethold of the problem from an angle where it wouldn't just slip away.After a while the western sky became a screen of clear luminous blue,a backdrop for a pure white brilliant star. As always at that sight,Maitland felt his worry drain away, leaving an almost mystical sense ofpeace and an undefinable longing.     Venus, the most beautiful of the planets.     Maitland kept track of them all in their majestic paths through theconstellations, but Venus was his favorite. Time and time again hehad watched its steady climb higher and higher in the western sky,its transient rule there as evening star, its progression toward thehorizon, and loved it equally in its      alter ego     of morning star. Venuswas an old friend. An old friend....     Something icy settled on the back of his neck, ran down his spine, anddiffused into his body. He stared at the planet unbelievingly, fistsclenched, forgetting to breathe.     Last night Venus hadn't been there.     Venus was a morning star just now....       Just now!       He realized the truth in that moment.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the backdrop of Orphans of the Void?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the ironic situation surrounding the ""Makers"" in Orphans of the Void? [SEP] <s>What do you      do     ? Steffens asked.     Elb replied quickly, with characteristic simplicity: We can do verylittle. A certain amount of physical knowledge was imparted to us atbirth by the Makers. We spend the main part of our time expanding thatknowledge wherever possible. We have made some progress in the naturalsciences, and some in mathematics. Our purpose in being, you see, isto serve the Makers. Any ability we can acquire will make us that muchmore fit to serve when the Makers return.     When they return? It had not occurred to Steffens until now that therobots expected the Makers to do so.     Elb regarded him out of the band of the circling eye. I see you hadsurmised that the Makers were not coming back.     If the robot could have laughed, Steffens thought it would have, then.But it just stood there, motionless, its tone politely emphatic.     It has always been our belief that the Makers would return. Why elsewould we have been built?     Steffens thought the robot would go on, but it didn't. The question, toElb, was no question at all.     Although Steffens knew already what the robot could not possibly haveknown—that the Makers were gone and would never come back—he was along time understanding. What he did was push this speculation into theback of his mind, to keep it from Elb. He had no desire to destroy afaith.     But it created a problem in him. He had begun to picture for Elb thestructure of human society, and the robot—a machine which did not eator sleep—listened gravely and tried to understand. One day Steffensmentioned God.     God? the robot repeated without comprehension. What is God?     Steffens explained briefly, and the robot answered:     It is a matter which has troubled us. We thought at first that youwere the Makers returning— Steffens remembered the brief lapse, theseeming disappointment he had sensed—but then we probed your mindsand found that you were not, that you were another kind of being,unlike either the Makers or ourselves. You were not even— Elb caughthimself—you did not happen to be telepaths. Therefore we troubledover who made you. We did detect the word 'Maker' in your theology,but it seemed to have a peculiar— Elb paused for a long while—anuntouchable, intangible meaning which varies among you.     Steffens understood. He nodded.     The Makers were the robots' God, were all the God they needed. TheMakers had built them, the planet, the universe. If he were to ask themwho made the Makers, it would be like their asking him who made God.     It was an ironic parallel, and he smiled to himself.     But on that planet, it was the last time he smiled.  <doc-sep>After a while, convinced that there was no danger, Steffens had theship brought down. When the crew came out of the airlock, they were metby the robots, and each man found himself with a robot at his side,humbly requesting to be of service. There were literally thousands ofthe robots now, come from all over the barren horizon. The mass of themstood apart, immobile on a plain near the ship, glinting in the sunlike a vast, metallic field of black wheat.     The robots had obviously been built to serve. Steffens began to      feel     their pleasure, to sense it in spite of the blank, expressionlessfaces. They were almost like children in their eagerness, yet they werestill reserved. Whoever had built them, Steffens thought in wonder, hadbuilt them well.     Ball came to join Steffens, staring at the robots through the clearplastic of his helmet with baffledly widened eyes. A robot moved outfrom the mass in the field, allied itself to him. The first to speakhad remained with Steffens.     Realizing that the robot could hear every word he was saying, Ballwas for a while apprehensive. But the sheer unreality of standing andtalking with a multi-limbed, intelligent hunk of dead metal upon thebare rock of a dead, ancient world, the unreality of it slowly died.It was impossible not to like the things. There was something in theirvery lines which was pleasant and relaxing.     Their builders, Steffens thought, had probably thought of that, too.     There's no harm in them, said Ball at last, openly, not minding ifthe robots heard. They seem actually glad we're here. My God, whoeverheard of a robot being glad?     Steffens, embarrassed, spoke quickly to the nearest mechanical: I hopeyou will forgive us our curiosity, but—yours is a remarkable race. Wehave never before made contact with a race like yours. It was saidhaltingly, but it was the best he could do.     The robot made a singularly human nodding motion of its head.     I perceive that the nature of our construction is unfamiliar to you.Your question is whether or not we are entirely 'mechanical.' I amnot exactly certain as to what the word 'mechanical' is intended toconvey—I would have to examine your thought more fully—but I believethat there is fundamental similarity between our structures.     The robot paused. Steffens had a distinct impression that it wasdisconcerted.     I must tell you, the thing went on, that we ourselves are—curious.It stopped suddenly, struggling with a word it could not comprehend.Steffens waited, listening with absolute interest. It said at length:     We know of only two types of living structure. Ours, which is largelymetallic, and that of the      Makers     , which would appear to be somewhatmore like yours. I am not a—doctor—and therefore cannot acquaint youwith the specific details of the Makers' composition, but if you areinterested I will have a doctor brought forward. It will be glad to beof assistance.     It was Steffens' turn to struggle, and the robot waited patiently whileBall and the second robot looked on in silence. The Makers, obviously,were whoever or whatever had built the robots, and the doctors,Steffens decided, were probably just that—doctor-robots, designedspecifically to care for the apparently flesh-bodies of the Makers.     The efficiency of the things continued to amaze him, but the questionhe had been waiting to ask came out now with a rush:     Can you tell us where the Makers are?     Both robots stood motionless. It occurred to Steffens that he couldn'treally be sure which was speaking. The voice that came to him spokewith difficulty.     The Makers—are not here.     Steffens stared in puzzlement. The robot detected his confusion andwent on:     The Makers have gone away. They have been gone for a very long time.     Could that be      pain     in its voice, Steffens wondered, and then thespectre of the ruined cities rose harsh in his mind.     War. The Makers had all been killed in that war. And these had not beenkilled.     He tried to grasp it, but he couldn't. There were robots here in themidst of a radiation so lethal that      nothing     ,      nothing     could live;robots on a dead planet, living in an atmosphere of carbon dioxide.     The carbon dioxide brought him up sharp.     If there had been life here once, there would have been plant life aswell, and therefore oxygen. If the war had been so long ago that thefree oxygen had since gone out of the atmosphere—good God, how oldwere the robots? Steffens looked at Ball, then at the silent robots,then out across the field to where the rest of them stood. The blackwheat. Steffens felt a deep chill.     Were they immortal?  <doc-sep>   Orphans of the Void     By MICHAEL SHAARA     Illustrated by EMSH     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction June 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Finding a cause worth dying for is no       great trick—the Universe is full of them. Finding       one worth living for is the genuine problem!        In the region of the Coal Sack Nebula, on the dead fourth planet ofa star called Tyban, Captain Steffens of the Mapping Command stoodcounting buildings. Eleven. No, twelve. He wondered if there was anysignificance in the number. He had no idea.     What do you make of it? he asked.     Lieutenant Ball, the executive officer of the ship, almost tried toscratch his head before he remembered that he was wearing a spacesuit.     Looks like a temporary camp, Ball said. Very few buildings, and allbuilt out of native materials, the only stuff available. Castaways,maybe?     Steffens was silent as he walked up onto the rise. The flat weatheredstone jutted out of the sand before him.     No inscriptions, he pointed out.     They would have been worn away. See the wind grooves? Anyway, there'snot another building on the whole damn planet. You wouldn't call itmuch of a civilization.     You don't think these are native?     Ball said he didn't. Steffens nodded.     Standing there and gazing at the stone, Steffens felt the awe of greatage. He had a hunch, deep and intuitive, that this was old—      too     old.He reached out a gloved hand, ran it gently over the smooth stoneridges of the wall. Although the atmosphere was very thin, he noticedthat the buildings had no airlocks.     Ball's voice sounded in his helmet: Want to set up shop, Skipper?     Steffens paused. All right, if you think it will do any good.     You never can tell. Excavation probably won't be much use. Thesethings are on a raised rock foundation, swept clean by the wind. Andyou can see that the rock itself is native— he indicated the ledgebeneath their feet—and was cut out a long while back.     How long?     Ball toed the sand uncomfortably. I wouldn't like to say off-hand.     Make a rough estimate.     Ball looked at the captain, knowing what was in his mind. He smiledwryly and said: Five thousand years? Ten thousand? I don't know.     Steffens whistled.     Ball pointed again at the wall. Look at the striations. You can tellfrom that alone. It would take even a brisk Earth wind      at least     several thousand years to cut that deep, and the wind here has only afraction of that force.     The two men stood for a long moment in silence. Man had been ininterstellar space for three hundred years and this was the firstuncovered evidence of an advanced, space-crossing, alien race. It wasan historic moment, but neither of them was thinking about history.     Man had been in space for only three hundred years. Whatever had builtthese had been in space for thousands of years.     Which ought to give      them     , thought Steffens uncomfortably, one hell ofa good head-start.  <doc-sep>Would you like to see a doctor?     Steffens jumped at the familiar words, then realized to what the robotwas referring.     No, not yet, he said, thank you. He swallowed hard as the robotscontinued waiting patiently.     Could you tell me, he said at last, how old you are? Individually?     By your reckoning, said his robot, and paused to make thecalculation, I am forty-four years, seven months, and eighteen days ofage, with ten years and approximately nine months yet to be alive.     Steffens tried to understand that.     It would perhaps simplify our conversations, said the robot, ifyou were to refer to me by a name, as is your custom. Using thefirst—letters—of my designation, my name would translate as Elb.     Glad to meet you, Steffens mumbled.     You are called 'Stef,' said the robot obligingly. Then it added,pointing an arm at the robot near Ball: The age of—Peb—is seventeenyears, one month and four days. Peb has therefore remaining somethirty-eight years.     Steffens was trying to keep up. Then the life span was obviously aboutfifty-five years. But the cities, and the carbon dioxide? The robot,Elb, had said that the Makers were similar to him, and therefore oxygenand plant life would have been needed. Unless—     He remembered the buildings on Tyban IV.     Unless the Makers had not come from this planet at all.     His mind helplessly began to revolve. It was Ball who restored order.     Do you build yourselves? the exec asked.     Peb answered quickly, that faint note of happiness again apparent, asif the robot was glad for the opportunity of answering.     No, we do not build ourselves. We are made by the— another pause fora word—by the      Factory     .     The Factory?     Yes. It was built by the Makers. Would you care to see it?     Both of the Earthmen nodded dumbly.     Would you prefer to use your—skiff? It is quite a long way from here.     It was indeed a long way, even by skiff. Some of the Aliencon crew wentalong with them. And near the edge of the twilight zone, on the otherside of the world, they saw the Factory outlined in the dim light ofdusk. A huge, fantastic block, wrought of gray and cloudy metal, lay ina valley between two worn mountains. Steffens went down low, circlingin the skiff, stared in awe at the size of the building. Robots movedoutside the thing, little black bugs in the distance—moving aroundtheir birthplace.  <doc-sep>   COSMIC YO-YO     By ROSS ROCKLYNNE     Want an asteroid in your backyard? We supply     cheap. Trouble also handled without charge.     Interplanetary Hauling Company. (ADVT.)     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Summer 1945.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Bob Parker, looking through the photo-amplifiers at the wedge-shapedasteroid, was plainly flabbergasted. Not in his wildest imaginings hadhe thought they would actually find what they were looking for.     Cut the drive! he yelled at Queazy. I've got it, right on the nose.Queazy, my boy, can you imagine it? We're in the dough. Not only that,we're rich! Come here!     Queazy discharged their tremendous inertia into the motive-tubes insuch a manner that the big, powerful ship was moving at the same rateas the asteroid below—47.05 miles per second. He came slogging backexcitedly, put his eyes to the eyepiece. He gasped, and his big bodyshook with joyful ejaculations.     She checks down to the last dimension, Bob chortled, working withslide-rule and logarithm tables. Now all we have to do is find out ifshe's made of tungsten, iron, quartz crystals, and cinnabar! But therecouldn't be two asteroids of that shape anywhere else in the Belt, sothis has to be it!     He jerked a badly crumpled ethergram from his pocket, smoothed it out,and thumbed his nose at the signature.     Whee! Mr. Andrew S. Burnside, you owe us five hundred and fiftythousand dollars!     Queazy straightened. A slow, likeable smile wreathed his tanned face.Better take it easy, he advised, until I land the ship and we usethe atomic whirl spectroscope to determine the composition of theasteroid.     Have it your way, Bob Parker sang, happily. He threw the ethergramto the winds and it fell gently to the deck-plates. While Queazy—socalled because his full name was Quentin Zuyler—dropped the shipstraight down to the smooth surface of the asteroid, and clamped ittight with magnetic grapples, Bob flung open the lazarette, broughtout two space-suits. Moments later, they were outside the ship, withstar-powdered infinity spread to all sides.     In the ship, the ethergram from Andrew S. Burnside, of Philadelphia,one of the richest men in the world, still lay on the deck-plates. Itwas addressed to: Mr. Robert Parker, President Interplanetary Hauling &Moving Co., 777 Main Street, Satterfield City, Fontanaland, Mars. Theethergram read:       Received your advertising literature a week ago. Would like to statethat yes I would like an asteroid in my back yard. Must meet followingspecifications: 506 feet length, long enough for wedding procession;98 feet at base, tapering to 10 feet at apex; 9-12 feet thick; topsidesmooth-plane, underside rough-plane; composed of iron ore, tungsten,quartz crystals, and cinnabar. Must be in my back yard before 11:30A.M. my time, for important wedding June 2, else order is void. Willpay $5.00 per ton.    <doc-sep>  THE SOUL EATERS     By WILLIAM CONOVER     Firebrand Dennis Brooke had one final chance     to redeem himself by capturing Koerber whose     ships were the scourge of the Void. But his     luck had run its course, and now he was     marooned on a rogue planet—fighting to save     himself from a menace weapons could not kill.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1944.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]            And so, my dear     , Dennis detected a faint irony in the phrase,       I'mafraid I can offer no competition to the beauties of five planets—oris it six? With regret I bow myself out, and knowing me as you do,you'll understand the futility of trying to convince me again. Anyway,there will be no temptation, for I'm sailing on a new assignment I'veaccepted. I did love you.... Good-by.          Dennis Brooke had lost count of the times he'd read Marla's lastletter, but every time he came to these final, poignant lines, theynever failed to conjure a vision of her tawny loveliness, slender asthe palms of Venus, and of the blue ecstasy of her eyes, wide with aperpetual wonder—limpid as a child's.     The barbaric rhythms of the      Congahua     , were a background of annoyancein Dennis' mind; he frowned slightly as the maneuvers of the Mercuriandancer, who writhed among the guests of the notorious pleasure palace,began to leave no doubt as to her intentions. The girl was beautiful,in a sultry, almost incandescent sort of way, but her open promise lefthim cold. He wanted solitude, somewhere to coordinate his thoughtsin silence and salvage something out of the wreck of his heart, notto speak of his career. But Venus, in the throes of a gigantic boomupon the discovery of radio-active fields, could offer only onesolitude—the fatal one of her swamps and virgin forests.     Dennis Brooke was thirty, the time when youth no longer seems unending.When the minor adventures of the heart begin to pall. If the loss ofMarla left an aching void that all the women of five planets could notfill, the loss of Space, was quite as deadly. For he had been grounded.True, Koerber's escape from the I.S.P. net had not quite been hisfault; but had he not been enjoying the joys of a voluptuous JovianChamber, in Venus' fabulous Inter-planetary Palace, he would have beenready for duty to complete the last link in the net of I.S.P. cruisersthat almost surrounded the space pirate.     A night in the Jovian Chamber, was to be emperor for one night. Everydream of a man's desire was marvelously induced through the skilful useof hypnotics; the rarest viands and most delectable drinks appeared asif by magic; the unearthly peace of an Olympus descended on a man'ssoul, and beauty ... beauty such as men dreamed of was a warm realityunder the ineffable illumination of the Chamber.     It cost a young fortune. But to pleasure mad, boom-ridden Venus, afortune was a bagatelle. Only it had cost Dennis Brooke far more than asheaf of credits—it had cost him the severe rebuff of the I.S.P., andmost of his heart in Marla.     Dennis sighed, he tilted his red, curly head and drank deeply of theinsidious      Verbena     , fragrant as a mint garden, in the tall frostyglass of Martian      Bacca-glas     , and as he did so, his brilliant hazeleyes found themselves gazing into the unwinking, violet stare of ayoung Martian at the next table. There was a smouldering hatred inthose eyes, and something else ... envy, perhaps, or was it jealousy?Dennis couldn't tell. But his senses became instantly alert. Dangerbrought a faint vibration which his superbly trained faculties couldinstantly denote.     His steady, bronzed hand lowered the drink, and his eyes narrowedslightly. Absorbed in trying to puzzle the sudden enmity of thisMartian stranger, he was unaware of the Mercurian Dancer. The latterhad edged closer, whirling in prismatic flashes from the myriadsemi-precious stones that studded her brief gauze skirt. And now, ina final bid for the spacer's favor she flung herself in his lap andtilted back invitingly.     Some of the guests laughed, others stared in plain envy at thehandsome, red-haired spacer, but from the table across, came thetinkling sound of a fragile glass being crushed in a powerful hand,and a muffled Martian curse. Without warning, the Martian was on hisfeet with the speed of an Hellacorium, the table went crashing to oneside as he leaped with deadly intent on the sprawled figure of DennisBrooke. A high-pitched scream brought instant silence as a Terran girlcried out. Then the Martian's hand reached out hungrily. But Dennis wasnot there.  <doc-sep>At the same moment came a plea from the enchantress of space througha second medium. For no reason anyone could explain, the ship's      telaudio     wakened to life; over it came to their ears the actual wordsof the girl:           Help! Oh, help! Can anyone hear me? Help     —     Even though he knew this to be only a ruse, a deliberate, dastardlytrap set for the unwary, Chip Warren's pulse leaped in hot response tothat desperate plea. Even with the warning of Johnny Haldane fresh inhis memory, some gallantry deep within him spurred him to the aid ofthis lovely vision. Here was a woman a man could live for, fight for,      die     for! A woman like no other in the universe.     Then common sense came to his rescue. He wrenched his gaze from thetempting shadow, cried: Kill that wavelength! Tune the lens onanother beam, Syd!     Palmer, bedazzled but obedient, spun the dial of the      perilens     .Despite his vastly improved science Man had never yet succeeded indevising a transparent medium through which to view the void whereinhe soared; the      perilens     was a device which translated impinginglight-waves into a picture of that which lay outside the ship's hull.When or where electrical disturbances existed in space, its frequencycould be changed for greater clarity. This was what Syd now attempted.     But to no avail! For it mattered not which cycle he tuned to—theimage persisted. Still on the viewscreen that pleading figurebeckoned piteously. And still the cabin rang to the prayers of thatheart-tugging voice:           Help! Oh, help! Can anyone hear me? Help     —     Gone, now, was any fascination that thrilling vision might previouslyhave held for Chip Warren. Understanding of their plight dawned coldlyupon him, and his brow became dark with anger.           We're blanketed!     Flying blind! Salvation, radio a general alarm!Syd, jazz the hypos to max. Shift trajectory to fourteen-oh-three Northand loft ... fire No. 3 jet....     He had hurled himself into the bucket-shaped pilot's seat; nowhis fingers played the controls like those of a mad organist. The      Chickadee     groaned from prow to stern, trembled like a tortured thingas he thrust it into a rising spiral.     It was a desperate chance he was taking. Increasing his speed thus, itwas certain he would be spotted by the man he had been following; theflaming jets of the      Chickadee     must form a crimson arch against blackspace visible for hundreds—thousands!—of miles. Nor was there any wayof knowing what lay in the path Chip thus blindly chose. Titanic deathmight loom on every side. But they had to fight clear of this spot ofblindness, clear their instruments....     And then it came! A jarring concussion that smashed against the prowof the      Chickadee     like a battering ram. Chip flew headlong out of hisbucket to spreadeagle on the heaving iron floor. He heard, above thegrinding plaint of shattered steel the bellowing prayer of SalvationSmith:     We've crashed! 'Into Thy hands, O Lord of old—'     Then Syd's angry cry, Crashed, hell! He's smashed us with atractor-blast!     Chip stared at his companion numbly.     But—but that's impossible! We're plated with ek! A tractor-cannoncouldn't hurt us—           Half-plated!      howled Syd savagely. And those damn fools startedworking from the stern of the      Chickadee     ! We're vulnerable up front,and that's where he got us! In a minute this can will be leaking like asieve. I'll get out bulgers. Hold 'er to her course, Chip!     He dove for the lockers wherein were hung the space-suits, tore themhastily from their hangers. Chip again spun the      perilens     vernier. Nogood! No space ... no stars ... just a beautiful phantom crying them tocertain doom. By now he was aware that from a dozen sprung plates airwas seeping, but he fought down despair. While there remained hope, aman had to keep on fighting.     He scrambled back into the bucket-seat, experimented with controls thatanswered sluggishly. Salvation had sprung to the rotor-gun, was nowangrily jerking its lanyard, lacing the void with death-dealing burststhat had no mark. The old man's eyes were brands of fire, his whitehair clung wetly to his forehead. His rage was terrible to behold.     'Yes, truly shall I destroy them!' he cried, 'who loose theirstealth upon me like a thief from the night—'     Then suddenly there came a second and more frightful blow. Thestraining      Chickadee     stopped as though pole-axed by a gigantic fist.Stopped and shuddered and screamed in metal agony. This time inertiaflung Chip headlong, helpless, into the control racks. Brazen studstook the impact of his body; crushing pain banded about his temples,and a red wetness ran into his eyes, blurring and blinding him, burning.     For an instant there flamed before him a universe of incandescentstars, weaving, shimmering, merging. The vision of a woman whose hairwas a golden glory....     After that—nothing!  <doc-sep>She shrugged. We have friends who can be bribed. A hiding place in thecity, the use of a small desert-taxi, a pass to leave the city—thesecan be had for a price.     You'll tell me your name?     Maggie.     Why did you save me?     Her eyes twinkled mischievously. Because you're a good astrogator.     His own eyes widened. How did you know that?     She sat on a plain chair beside his bed. I know everything about you,Lieutenant Curtis.     How did you learn my name? I destroyed all my papers—     I know that you're twenty-four. Born July 10, 1971. Orphaned at four,you attended Boys Town in the Catskills till you were 19. You graduatedfrom the Academy at White Sands last June with a major in Astrogation.Your rating for the five-year period was 3.8—the second highest in aclass of fifty-seven. Your only low mark in the five years was a 3.2 inHistory of Martian Civilization. Want me to go on?     Fascinated, Ben nodded.     You were accepted as junior astrogation officer aboard the      Odyssey     .You did well on your flight from Roswell to Luna City. In a barroomfight in Luna City, you struck and killed a man named Arthur Cobb, apre-fab salesman. You've been charged with second degree murder andescape. A reward of 5,000 credits has been offered for your capture.You came to Hoover City in the hope of finding a renegade group ofspacemen who operate beyond Mars. You were looking for them in theBlast Inn.     He gaped incredulously, struggling to rise from his pillows. I—don'tget it.     There are ways of finding out what we want to know. As I told you, wehave many friends.     He fell back into his pillows, breathing hard. She rose quickly.     I'm sorry, she said. I shouldn't have told you yet. I felt so happybecause you're alive. Rest now. We'll talk again soon.     Maggie, you—you said I'd live. You didn't say I'd be able to walkagain.     She lowered her gaze. I hope you'll be able to.     But you don't think I will, do you?     I don't know. We'll try walking tomorrow. Don't think about it now.Rest.     He tried to relax, but his mind was a vortex of conjecture.     Just one more question, he almost whispered.     Yes?     The man I killed—did he have a wife?     She hesitated. He thought,      Damn it, of all the questions, why did Iask that?       Finally she said, He had a wife.     Children?     Two. I don't know their ages.     She left the room.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the ironic situation surrounding the ""Makers"" in Orphans of the Void?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"""What can be said about the robots in Orphans of the Void?"" [SEP] <s>   Orphans of the Void     By MICHAEL SHAARA     Illustrated by EMSH     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction June 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Finding a cause worth dying for is no       great trick—the Universe is full of them. Finding       one worth living for is the genuine problem!        In the region of the Coal Sack Nebula, on the dead fourth planet ofa star called Tyban, Captain Steffens of the Mapping Command stoodcounting buildings. Eleven. No, twelve. He wondered if there was anysignificance in the number. He had no idea.     What do you make of it? he asked.     Lieutenant Ball, the executive officer of the ship, almost tried toscratch his head before he remembered that he was wearing a spacesuit.     Looks like a temporary camp, Ball said. Very few buildings, and allbuilt out of native materials, the only stuff available. Castaways,maybe?     Steffens was silent as he walked up onto the rise. The flat weatheredstone jutted out of the sand before him.     No inscriptions, he pointed out.     They would have been worn away. See the wind grooves? Anyway, there'snot another building on the whole damn planet. You wouldn't call itmuch of a civilization.     You don't think these are native?     Ball said he didn't. Steffens nodded.     Standing there and gazing at the stone, Steffens felt the awe of greatage. He had a hunch, deep and intuitive, that this was old—      too     old.He reached out a gloved hand, ran it gently over the smooth stoneridges of the wall. Although the atmosphere was very thin, he noticedthat the buildings had no airlocks.     Ball's voice sounded in his helmet: Want to set up shop, Skipper?     Steffens paused. All right, if you think it will do any good.     You never can tell. Excavation probably won't be much use. Thesethings are on a raised rock foundation, swept clean by the wind. Andyou can see that the rock itself is native— he indicated the ledgebeneath their feet—and was cut out a long while back.     How long?     Ball toed the sand uncomfortably. I wouldn't like to say off-hand.     Make a rough estimate.     Ball looked at the captain, knowing what was in his mind. He smiledwryly and said: Five thousand years? Ten thousand? I don't know.     Steffens whistled.     Ball pointed again at the wall. Look at the striations. You can tellfrom that alone. It would take even a brisk Earth wind      at least     several thousand years to cut that deep, and the wind here has only afraction of that force.     The two men stood for a long moment in silence. Man had been ininterstellar space for three hundred years and this was the firstuncovered evidence of an advanced, space-crossing, alien race. It wasan historic moment, but neither of them was thinking about history.     Man had been in space for only three hundred years. Whatever had builtthese had been in space for thousands of years.     Which ought to give      them     , thought Steffens uncomfortably, one hell ofa good head-start.  <doc-sep>Would you like to see a doctor?     Steffens jumped at the familiar words, then realized to what the robotwas referring.     No, not yet, he said, thank you. He swallowed hard as the robotscontinued waiting patiently.     Could you tell me, he said at last, how old you are? Individually?     By your reckoning, said his robot, and paused to make thecalculation, I am forty-four years, seven months, and eighteen days ofage, with ten years and approximately nine months yet to be alive.     Steffens tried to understand that.     It would perhaps simplify our conversations, said the robot, ifyou were to refer to me by a name, as is your custom. Using thefirst—letters—of my designation, my name would translate as Elb.     Glad to meet you, Steffens mumbled.     You are called 'Stef,' said the robot obligingly. Then it added,pointing an arm at the robot near Ball: The age of—Peb—is seventeenyears, one month and four days. Peb has therefore remaining somethirty-eight years.     Steffens was trying to keep up. Then the life span was obviously aboutfifty-five years. But the cities, and the carbon dioxide? The robot,Elb, had said that the Makers were similar to him, and therefore oxygenand plant life would have been needed. Unless—     He remembered the buildings on Tyban IV.     Unless the Makers had not come from this planet at all.     His mind helplessly began to revolve. It was Ball who restored order.     Do you build yourselves? the exec asked.     Peb answered quickly, that faint note of happiness again apparent, asif the robot was glad for the opportunity of answering.     No, we do not build ourselves. We are made by the— another pause fora word—by the      Factory     .     The Factory?     Yes. It was built by the Makers. Would you care to see it?     Both of the Earthmen nodded dumbly.     Would you prefer to use your—skiff? It is quite a long way from here.     It was indeed a long way, even by skiff. Some of the Aliencon crew wentalong with them. And near the edge of the twilight zone, on the otherside of the world, they saw the Factory outlined in the dim light ofdusk. A huge, fantastic block, wrought of gray and cloudy metal, lay ina valley between two worn mountains. Steffens went down low, circlingin the skiff, stared in awe at the size of the building. Robots movedoutside the thing, little black bugs in the distance—moving aroundtheir birthplace.  <doc-sep>Greetings, it said! Greetings! Ball was mumbling incredulouslythrough shocked lips.     Everyone on the ship had heard the voice. When it spoke again, Steffenswas not sure whether it was just one voice or many voices.     We await your coming, it said gravely, and repeated: Our desire isonly to serve.     And then the robots sent a      picture     .     As perfect and as clear as a tridim movie, a rectangular plate tookshape in Steffens' mind. On the face of the plate, standing aloneagainst a background of red-brown, bare rocks, was one of the robots.With slow, perfect movement, the robot carefully lifted one of thehanging arms of its side, of its      right     side, and extended it towardSteffens, a graciously offered hand.     Steffens felt a peculiar, compelling urge to take the hand, realizedright away that the urge to take the hand was not entirely his. Therobot mind had helped.     When the picture vanished, he knew that the others had seen it. Hewaited for a while; there was no further contact, but the feeling ofthe robot's urging was still strong within him. He had an idea that, ifthey wanted to, the robots could control his mind. So when nothing morehappened, he began to lose his fear.     While the crew watched in fascination, Steffens tried to talk back.He concentrated hard on what he was saying, said it aloud for goodmeasure, then held his own hand extended in the robot manner of shakinghands.     Greetings, he said, because it was what      they     had said, andexplained: We have come from the stars.     It was overly dramatic, but so was the whole situation. He wonderedbaffledly if he should have let the Alien Contact crew handle it. Ordersomeone to stand there, feeling like a fool, and      think     a message?     No, it was his responsibility; he had to go on:     We request—we respectfully request permission to land upon yourplanet.  <doc-sep>Steffens had not realized that there were so many.     They had been gathering since his ship was first seen, and now therewere hundreds of them clustered upon the hill. Others were arrivingeven as the skiff landed; they glided in over the rocky hills withfantastic ease and power, so that Steffens felt a momentary anxiety.Most of the robots were standing with the silent immobility of metal.Others threaded their way to the fore and came near the skiff, but nonetouched it, and a circle was cleared for Steffens when he came out.       One of the near robots came forward alone, moving, as Steffens nowsaw, on a number of short, incredibly strong and agile legs. The blackthing paused before him, extended a hand as it had done in the picture.Steffens took it, he hoped, warmly; felt the power of the metal throughthe glove of his suit.     Welcome, the robot said, speaking again to his mind, and nowSteffens detected a peculiar alteration in the robot's tone. It wasless friendly now, less—Steffens could not understand—somehow less      interested     , as if the robot had been—expecting someone else.     Thank you, Steffens said. We are deeply grateful for your permissionto land.     Our desire, the robot repeated mechanically, is only to serve.     Suddenly, Steffens began to feel alone, surrounded by machines. Hetried to push the thought out of his mind, because he knew that they      should     seem inhuman. But....     Will the others come down? asked the robot, still mechanically.     Steffens felt his embarrassment. The ship lay high in the mist above,jets throbbing gently.     They must remain with the ship, Steffens said aloud, trusting to therobot's formality not to ask him why. Although, if they could read hismind, there was no need to ask.     For a long while, neither spoke, long enough for Steffens to grow tenseand uncomfortable. He could not think of a thing to say, the robot wasobviously waiting, and so, in desperation, he signaled the Aliencon mento come on out of the skiff.     They came, wonderingly, and the ring of robots widened. Steffens heardthe one robot speak again. The voice was now much more friendly.     We hope you will forgive us for intruding upon your thought. It isour—custom—not to communicate unless we are called upon. But when weobserved that you were in ignorance of our real—nature—and were aboutto leave our planet, we decided to put aside our custom, so that youmight base your decision upon sufficient data.     Steffens replied haltingly that he appreciated their action.     We perceive, the robot went on, that you are unaware of our completeaccess to your mind, and would perhaps be—dismayed—to learn thatwe have been gathering information from you. We must—apologize.Our only purpose was so that we could communicate with you. Onlythat information was taken which is necessary for communicationand—understanding. We will enter your minds henceforth only at yourrequest.     Steffens did not react to the news that his mind was being probedas violently as he might have. Nevertheless it was a shock, and heretreated into observant silence as the Aliencon men went to work.     The robot which seemed to have been doing the speaking was in no waydifferent from any of the others in the group. Since each of the robotswas immediately aware of all that was being said or thought, Steffensguessed that they had sent one forward just for appearance's sake,because they perceived that the Earthmen would feel more at home. Thepicture of the extended hand, the characteristic handshake of Earthmen,had probably been borrowed, too, for the same purpose of making him andthe others feel at ease. The one jarring note was the robot's momentarylapse, those unexplainable few seconds when the things had seemedalmost disappointed. Steffens gave up wondering about that and began toexamine the first robot in detail.     It was not very tall, being at least a foot shorter than the Earthmen.The most peculiar thing about it, except for the circling eye-band ofthe head, was a mass of symbols which were apparently engraved upon themetal chest. Symbols in row upon row—numbers, perhaps—were upon thechest, and repeated again below the level of the arms, and continuedin orderly rows across the front of the robot, all the way down to thebase of the trunk. If they were numbers, Steffens thought, then it wasa remarkably complicated system. But he noticed the same pattern onthe nearer robots, all apparently identical. He was forced to concludethat the symbols were merely decoration and let it go tentatively atthat, although the answer seemed illogical.     It wasn't until he was on his way home that Steffens remembered thesymbols again. And only then did he realized what they were.  <doc-sep>After a while, convinced that there was no danger, Steffens had theship brought down. When the crew came out of the airlock, they were metby the robots, and each man found himself with a robot at his side,humbly requesting to be of service. There were literally thousands ofthe robots now, come from all over the barren horizon. The mass of themstood apart, immobile on a plain near the ship, glinting in the sunlike a vast, metallic field of black wheat.     The robots had obviously been built to serve. Steffens began to      feel     their pleasure, to sense it in spite of the blank, expressionlessfaces. They were almost like children in their eagerness, yet they werestill reserved. Whoever had built them, Steffens thought in wonder, hadbuilt them well.     Ball came to join Steffens, staring at the robots through the clearplastic of his helmet with baffledly widened eyes. A robot moved outfrom the mass in the field, allied itself to him. The first to speakhad remained with Steffens.     Realizing that the robot could hear every word he was saying, Ballwas for a while apprehensive. But the sheer unreality of standing andtalking with a multi-limbed, intelligent hunk of dead metal upon thebare rock of a dead, ancient world, the unreality of it slowly died.It was impossible not to like the things. There was something in theirvery lines which was pleasant and relaxing.     Their builders, Steffens thought, had probably thought of that, too.     There's no harm in them, said Ball at last, openly, not minding ifthe robots heard. They seem actually glad we're here. My God, whoeverheard of a robot being glad?     Steffens, embarrassed, spoke quickly to the nearest mechanical: I hopeyou will forgive us our curiosity, but—yours is a remarkable race. Wehave never before made contact with a race like yours. It was saidhaltingly, but it was the best he could do.     The robot made a singularly human nodding motion of its head.     I perceive that the nature of our construction is unfamiliar to you.Your question is whether or not we are entirely 'mechanical.' I amnot exactly certain as to what the word 'mechanical' is intended toconvey—I would have to examine your thought more fully—but I believethat there is fundamental similarity between our structures.     The robot paused. Steffens had a distinct impression that it wasdisconcerted.     I must tell you, the thing went on, that we ourselves are—curious.It stopped suddenly, struggling with a word it could not comprehend.Steffens waited, listening with absolute interest. It said at length:     We know of only two types of living structure. Ours, which is largelymetallic, and that of the      Makers     , which would appear to be somewhatmore like yours. I am not a—doctor—and therefore cannot acquaint youwith the specific details of the Makers' composition, but if you areinterested I will have a doctor brought forward. It will be glad to beof assistance.     It was Steffens' turn to struggle, and the robot waited patiently whileBall and the second robot looked on in silence. The Makers, obviously,were whoever or whatever had built the robots, and the doctors,Steffens decided, were probably just that—doctor-robots, designedspecifically to care for the apparently flesh-bodies of the Makers.     The efficiency of the things continued to amaze him, but the questionhe had been waiting to ask came out now with a rush:     Can you tell us where the Makers are?     Both robots stood motionless. It occurred to Steffens that he couldn'treally be sure which was speaking. The voice that came to him spokewith difficulty.     The Makers—are not here.     Steffens stared in puzzlement. The robot detected his confusion andwent on:     The Makers have gone away. They have been gone for a very long time.     Could that be      pain     in its voice, Steffens wondered, and then thespectre of the ruined cities rose harsh in his mind.     War. The Makers had all been killed in that war. And these had not beenkilled.     He tried to grasp it, but he couldn't. There were robots here in themidst of a radiation so lethal that      nothing     ,      nothing     could live;robots on a dead planet, living in an atmosphere of carbon dioxide.     The carbon dioxide brought him up sharp.     If there had been life here once, there would have been plant life aswell, and therefore oxygen. If the war had been so long ago that thefree oxygen had since gone out of the atmosphere—good God, how oldwere the robots? Steffens looked at Ball, then at the silent robots,then out across the field to where the rest of them stood. The blackwheat. Steffens felt a deep chill.     Were they immortal?  <doc-sep>She shrugged. We have friends who can be bribed. A hiding place in thecity, the use of a small desert-taxi, a pass to leave the city—thesecan be had for a price.     You'll tell me your name?     Maggie.     Why did you save me?     Her eyes twinkled mischievously. Because you're a good astrogator.     His own eyes widened. How did you know that?     She sat on a plain chair beside his bed. I know everything about you,Lieutenant Curtis.     How did you learn my name? I destroyed all my papers—     I know that you're twenty-four. Born July 10, 1971. Orphaned at four,you attended Boys Town in the Catskills till you were 19. You graduatedfrom the Academy at White Sands last June with a major in Astrogation.Your rating for the five-year period was 3.8—the second highest in aclass of fifty-seven. Your only low mark in the five years was a 3.2 inHistory of Martian Civilization. Want me to go on?     Fascinated, Ben nodded.     You were accepted as junior astrogation officer aboard the      Odyssey     .You did well on your flight from Roswell to Luna City. In a barroomfight in Luna City, you struck and killed a man named Arthur Cobb, apre-fab salesman. You've been charged with second degree murder andescape. A reward of 5,000 credits has been offered for your capture.You came to Hoover City in the hope of finding a renegade group ofspacemen who operate beyond Mars. You were looking for them in theBlast Inn.     He gaped incredulously, struggling to rise from his pillows. I—don'tget it.     There are ways of finding out what we want to know. As I told you, wehave many friends.     He fell back into his pillows, breathing hard. She rose quickly.     I'm sorry, she said. I shouldn't have told you yet. I felt so happybecause you're alive. Rest now. We'll talk again soon.     Maggie, you—you said I'd live. You didn't say I'd be able to walkagain.     She lowered her gaze. I hope you'll be able to.     But you don't think I will, do you?     I don't know. We'll try walking tomorrow. Don't think about it now.Rest.     He tried to relax, but his mind was a vortex of conjecture.     Just one more question, he almost whispered.     Yes?     The man I killed—did he have a wife?     She hesitated. He thought,      Damn it, of all the questions, why did Iask that?       Finally she said, He had a wife.     Children?     Two. I don't know their ages.     She left the room.  <doc-sep>Quickly Steffens called for height. The ship bucked beneath him andblasted straight up; some of the crew went crashing to the deck.Steffens remained by the screen, increasing the magnification as theship drew away. And he saw another, then two, then a black glidinggroup, all matched with bunches of hanging arms.     Nothing alive but robots, he thought,      robots     . He adjusted to fullclose up as quickly as he could and the picture focused on the screen.Behind him he heard a crewman grunt in amazement.     A band of clear, plasticlike stuff ran round the head—it would be theeye, a band of eye that saw all ways. On the top of the head was asingle round spot of the plastic, and the rest was black metal, joined,he realized, with fantastic perfection. The angle of sight was nowalmost perpendicular. He could see very little of the branching arms ofthe trunk, but what had been on the screen was enough. They were themost perfect robots he had ever seen.     The ship leveled off. Steffens had no idea what to do; the sudden sightof the moving things had unnerved him. He had already sounded thealert, flicked out the defense screens. Now he had nothing to do. Hetried to concentrate on what the League Law would have him do.     The Law was no help. Contact with planet-bound races was forbiddenunder any circumstances. But could a bunch of robots be called a race?The Law said nothing about robots because Earthmen had none. Thebuilding of imaginative robots was expressly forbidden. But at anyrate, Steffens thought, he had made contact already.     While Steffens stood by the screen, completely bewildered for the firsttime in his space career, Lieutenant Ball came up, hobbling slightly.From the bright new bruise on his cheek, Steffens guessed that thesudden climb had caught him unaware. The exec was pale with surprise.     What were they? he said blankly. Lord, they looked like robots!     They were.     Ball stared confoundedly at the screen. The things were now a confusionof dots in the mist.     Almost humanoid, Steffens said, but not quite.     Ball was slowly absorbing the situation. He turned to gaze inquiringlyat Steffens.     Well, what do we do now?     Steffens shrugged. They saw us. We could leave now and let them quitepossibly make a ... a legend out of our visit, or we could go down andsee if they tie in with the buildings on Tyban IV.           Can     we go down?     Legally? I don't know. If they are robots, yes, since robots cannotconstitute a race. But there's another possibility. He tapped hisfingers on the screen confusedly. They don't have to be robots at all.They could be the natives.     Ball gulped. I don't follow you.     They could be the original inhabitants of this planet—the brains ofthem, at least, protected in radiation-proof metal. Anyway, he added,they're the most perfect mechanicals I've ever seen.     Ball shook his head, sat down abruptly. Steffens turned from thescreen, strode nervously across the Main Deck, thinking.     The Mapping Command, they called it. Theoretically, all he was supposedto do was make a closeup examination of unexplored systems, checkingfor the presence of life-forms as well as for the possibilities ofhuman colonization. Make a check and nothing else. But he knew veryclearly that if he returned to Sirius base without investigating thisrobot situation, he could very well be court-martialed one way or theother, either for breaking the Law of Contact or for dereliction ofduty.     And there was also the possibility, which abruptly occurred to him,that the robots might well be prepared to blow his ship to hell andgone.     He stopped in the center of the deck. A whole new line of thoughtopened up. If the robots were armed and ready ... could this be anoutpost?       An outpost!       He turned and raced for the bridge. If he went in and landed and waslost, then the League might never know in time. If he went in andstirred up trouble....     The thought in his mind was scattered suddenly, like a mist blown away.A voice was speaking in his mind, a deep calm voice that seemed to say:           Greetings. Do not be alarmed. We do not wish you to be alarmed. Ourdesire is only to serve....       <doc-sep>For more than a century, robotocists have been trying to build Asimov'sfamous Three Laws of Robotics into a robot brain.       First Law: A robot shall not, either through action or inaction, allowharm to come to a human being.         Second Law: A robot shall obey the orders of a human being, exceptwhen such orders conflict with the First Law     .     [15]       Third Law: A robot shall strive to protect its own existence, exceptwhen this conflicts with the First or Second Law.       Nobody has succeeded yet, because nobody has yet succeeded in definingthe term human being in such a way that the logical mind of a robotcan encompass the concept.     A traffic robot is useful only because the definition has been rigidlynarrowed down. As far as a traffic robot is concerned, human beingsare the automobiles on its highways. Woe betide any poor sap who tries,illegally, to cross a robot-controlled highway on foot. The robot'sonly concern would be with the safety of the automobiles, and if theonly way to avoid destruction of an automobile were to be by nudgingthe pedestrian aside with a fender, that's what would happen.     And, since its orders only come from one place, I suppose that atraffic robot thinks that the guy who uses that typer is an automobile.     With the first six models of the McGuire ships, the robotocistsattempted to build in the Three Laws exactly as stated. And the firstsix went insane.     If one human being says jump left, and another says jump right,the robot is unable to evaluate which human being has given the morevalid order. Feed enough confusing and conflicting data into a robotbrain, and it can begin behaving in ways that, in a human being, wouldbe called paranoia or schizophrenia or catatonia or what-have-you,depending  [16]  on the symptoms. And an insane robot is fully as dangerousas an insane human being controlling the same mechanical equipment, ifnot more so.     So the seventh model had been modified. The present McGuire's brain wasimpressed with slight modifications of the First and Second Laws.     If it is difficult to define a human being, it is much more difficultto define a      responsible     human being. One, in other words, who canbe relied upon to give wise and proper orders to a robot, who can berelied upon not to drive the robot insane.     The robotocists at Viking Spacecraft had decided to take anothertack. Very well, they'd said, if we can't define all the membersof a group, we can certainly define an individual. We'll pick oneresponsible person and build McGuire so that he will take orders onlyfrom that person.     As it turned out, I was that person. Just substitute Daniel Oakfor human being in the First and Second Laws, and you'll see howimportant I was to a certain spaceship named McGuire.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] ""What can be said about the robots in Orphans of the Void?""","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What motivates Steffens to interact with the robots in Orphans of the Void? [SEP] <s>   Orphans of the Void     By MICHAEL SHAARA     Illustrated by EMSH     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction June 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Finding a cause worth dying for is no       great trick—the Universe is full of them. Finding       one worth living for is the genuine problem!        In the region of the Coal Sack Nebula, on the dead fourth planet ofa star called Tyban, Captain Steffens of the Mapping Command stoodcounting buildings. Eleven. No, twelve. He wondered if there was anysignificance in the number. He had no idea.     What do you make of it? he asked.     Lieutenant Ball, the executive officer of the ship, almost tried toscratch his head before he remembered that he was wearing a spacesuit.     Looks like a temporary camp, Ball said. Very few buildings, and allbuilt out of native materials, the only stuff available. Castaways,maybe?     Steffens was silent as he walked up onto the rise. The flat weatheredstone jutted out of the sand before him.     No inscriptions, he pointed out.     They would have been worn away. See the wind grooves? Anyway, there'snot another building on the whole damn planet. You wouldn't call itmuch of a civilization.     You don't think these are native?     Ball said he didn't. Steffens nodded.     Standing there and gazing at the stone, Steffens felt the awe of greatage. He had a hunch, deep and intuitive, that this was old—      too     old.He reached out a gloved hand, ran it gently over the smooth stoneridges of the wall. Although the atmosphere was very thin, he noticedthat the buildings had no airlocks.     Ball's voice sounded in his helmet: Want to set up shop, Skipper?     Steffens paused. All right, if you think it will do any good.     You never can tell. Excavation probably won't be much use. Thesethings are on a raised rock foundation, swept clean by the wind. Andyou can see that the rock itself is native— he indicated the ledgebeneath their feet—and was cut out a long while back.     How long?     Ball toed the sand uncomfortably. I wouldn't like to say off-hand.     Make a rough estimate.     Ball looked at the captain, knowing what was in his mind. He smiledwryly and said: Five thousand years? Ten thousand? I don't know.     Steffens whistled.     Ball pointed again at the wall. Look at the striations. You can tellfrom that alone. It would take even a brisk Earth wind      at least     several thousand years to cut that deep, and the wind here has only afraction of that force.     The two men stood for a long moment in silence. Man had been ininterstellar space for three hundred years and this was the firstuncovered evidence of an advanced, space-crossing, alien race. It wasan historic moment, but neither of them was thinking about history.     Man had been in space for only three hundred years. Whatever had builtthese had been in space for thousands of years.     Which ought to give      them     , thought Steffens uncomfortably, one hell ofa good head-start.  <doc-sep>Steffens had not realized that there were so many.     They had been gathering since his ship was first seen, and now therewere hundreds of them clustered upon the hill. Others were arrivingeven as the skiff landed; they glided in over the rocky hills withfantastic ease and power, so that Steffens felt a momentary anxiety.Most of the robots were standing with the silent immobility of metal.Others threaded their way to the fore and came near the skiff, but nonetouched it, and a circle was cleared for Steffens when he came out.       One of the near robots came forward alone, moving, as Steffens nowsaw, on a number of short, incredibly strong and agile legs. The blackthing paused before him, extended a hand as it had done in the picture.Steffens took it, he hoped, warmly; felt the power of the metal throughthe glove of his suit.     Welcome, the robot said, speaking again to his mind, and nowSteffens detected a peculiar alteration in the robot's tone. It wasless friendly now, less—Steffens could not understand—somehow less      interested     , as if the robot had been—expecting someone else.     Thank you, Steffens said. We are deeply grateful for your permissionto land.     Our desire, the robot repeated mechanically, is only to serve.     Suddenly, Steffens began to feel alone, surrounded by machines. Hetried to push the thought out of his mind, because he knew that they      should     seem inhuman. But....     Will the others come down? asked the robot, still mechanically.     Steffens felt his embarrassment. The ship lay high in the mist above,jets throbbing gently.     They must remain with the ship, Steffens said aloud, trusting to therobot's formality not to ask him why. Although, if they could read hismind, there was no need to ask.     For a long while, neither spoke, long enough for Steffens to grow tenseand uncomfortable. He could not think of a thing to say, the robot wasobviously waiting, and so, in desperation, he signaled the Aliencon mento come on out of the skiff.     They came, wonderingly, and the ring of robots widened. Steffens heardthe one robot speak again. The voice was now much more friendly.     We hope you will forgive us for intruding upon your thought. It isour—custom—not to communicate unless we are called upon. But when weobserved that you were in ignorance of our real—nature—and were aboutto leave our planet, we decided to put aside our custom, so that youmight base your decision upon sufficient data.     Steffens replied haltingly that he appreciated their action.     We perceive, the robot went on, that you are unaware of our completeaccess to your mind, and would perhaps be—dismayed—to learn thatwe have been gathering information from you. We must—apologize.Our only purpose was so that we could communicate with you. Onlythat information was taken which is necessary for communicationand—understanding. We will enter your minds henceforth only at yourrequest.     Steffens did not react to the news that his mind was being probedas violently as he might have. Nevertheless it was a shock, and heretreated into observant silence as the Aliencon men went to work.     The robot which seemed to have been doing the speaking was in no waydifferent from any of the others in the group. Since each of the robotswas immediately aware of all that was being said or thought, Steffensguessed that they had sent one forward just for appearance's sake,because they perceived that the Earthmen would feel more at home. Thepicture of the extended hand, the characteristic handshake of Earthmen,had probably been borrowed, too, for the same purpose of making him andthe others feel at ease. The one jarring note was the robot's momentarylapse, those unexplainable few seconds when the things had seemedalmost disappointed. Steffens gave up wondering about that and began toexamine the first robot in detail.     It was not very tall, being at least a foot shorter than the Earthmen.The most peculiar thing about it, except for the circling eye-band ofthe head, was a mass of symbols which were apparently engraved upon themetal chest. Symbols in row upon row—numbers, perhaps—were upon thechest, and repeated again below the level of the arms, and continuedin orderly rows across the front of the robot, all the way down to thebase of the trunk. If they were numbers, Steffens thought, then it wasa remarkably complicated system. But he noticed the same pattern onthe nearer robots, all apparently identical. He was forced to concludethat the symbols were merely decoration and let it go tentatively atthat, although the answer seemed illogical.     It wasn't until he was on his way home that Steffens remembered thesymbols again. And only then did he realized what they were.  <doc-sep>After a while, convinced that there was no danger, Steffens had theship brought down. When the crew came out of the airlock, they were metby the robots, and each man found himself with a robot at his side,humbly requesting to be of service. There were literally thousands ofthe robots now, come from all over the barren horizon. The mass of themstood apart, immobile on a plain near the ship, glinting in the sunlike a vast, metallic field of black wheat.     The robots had obviously been built to serve. Steffens began to      feel     their pleasure, to sense it in spite of the blank, expressionlessfaces. They were almost like children in their eagerness, yet they werestill reserved. Whoever had built them, Steffens thought in wonder, hadbuilt them well.     Ball came to join Steffens, staring at the robots through the clearplastic of his helmet with baffledly widened eyes. A robot moved outfrom the mass in the field, allied itself to him. The first to speakhad remained with Steffens.     Realizing that the robot could hear every word he was saying, Ballwas for a while apprehensive. But the sheer unreality of standing andtalking with a multi-limbed, intelligent hunk of dead metal upon thebare rock of a dead, ancient world, the unreality of it slowly died.It was impossible not to like the things. There was something in theirvery lines which was pleasant and relaxing.     Their builders, Steffens thought, had probably thought of that, too.     There's no harm in them, said Ball at last, openly, not minding ifthe robots heard. They seem actually glad we're here. My God, whoeverheard of a robot being glad?     Steffens, embarrassed, spoke quickly to the nearest mechanical: I hopeyou will forgive us our curiosity, but—yours is a remarkable race. Wehave never before made contact with a race like yours. It was saidhaltingly, but it was the best he could do.     The robot made a singularly human nodding motion of its head.     I perceive that the nature of our construction is unfamiliar to you.Your question is whether or not we are entirely 'mechanical.' I amnot exactly certain as to what the word 'mechanical' is intended toconvey—I would have to examine your thought more fully—but I believethat there is fundamental similarity between our structures.     The robot paused. Steffens had a distinct impression that it wasdisconcerted.     I must tell you, the thing went on, that we ourselves are—curious.It stopped suddenly, struggling with a word it could not comprehend.Steffens waited, listening with absolute interest. It said at length:     We know of only two types of living structure. Ours, which is largelymetallic, and that of the      Makers     , which would appear to be somewhatmore like yours. I am not a—doctor—and therefore cannot acquaint youwith the specific details of the Makers' composition, but if you areinterested I will have a doctor brought forward. It will be glad to beof assistance.     It was Steffens' turn to struggle, and the robot waited patiently whileBall and the second robot looked on in silence. The Makers, obviously,were whoever or whatever had built the robots, and the doctors,Steffens decided, were probably just that—doctor-robots, designedspecifically to care for the apparently flesh-bodies of the Makers.     The efficiency of the things continued to amaze him, but the questionhe had been waiting to ask came out now with a rush:     Can you tell us where the Makers are?     Both robots stood motionless. It occurred to Steffens that he couldn'treally be sure which was speaking. The voice that came to him spokewith difficulty.     The Makers—are not here.     Steffens stared in puzzlement. The robot detected his confusion andwent on:     The Makers have gone away. They have been gone for a very long time.     Could that be      pain     in its voice, Steffens wondered, and then thespectre of the ruined cities rose harsh in his mind.     War. The Makers had all been killed in that war. And these had not beenkilled.     He tried to grasp it, but he couldn't. There were robots here in themidst of a radiation so lethal that      nothing     ,      nothing     could live;robots on a dead planet, living in an atmosphere of carbon dioxide.     The carbon dioxide brought him up sharp.     If there had been life here once, there would have been plant life aswell, and therefore oxygen. If the war had been so long ago that thefree oxygen had since gone out of the atmosphere—good God, how oldwere the robots? Steffens looked at Ball, then at the silent robots,then out across the field to where the rest of them stood. The blackwheat. Steffens felt a deep chill.     Were they immortal?  <doc-sep>The Earthmen remained for several weeks. During that time, Steffens wasusually with Elb, talking now as often as he listened, and the Alienconteam roamed the planet freely, investigating what was certainly thestrangest culture in history. There was still the mystery of thosebuildings on Tyban IV; that, as well as the robots' origin, would haveto be cleared up before they could leave.     Surprisingly, Steffens did not think about the future. Whenever he camenear a robot, he sensed such a general, comfortable air of good feelingthat it warmed him, and he was so preoccupied with watching the robotsthat he did little thinking.     Something he had not realized at the beginning was that he was asunusual to the robots as they were to him. It came to him with a greatshock that not one of the robots had ever seen a living thing. Not abug, a worm, a leaf. They did not know what flesh was. Only the doctorsknew that, and none of them could readily understand what was meant bythe words organic matter. It had taken them some time to recognizethat the Earthmen wore suits which were not parts of their bodies, andit was even more difficult for them to understand why the suits wereneeded.     But when they did understand, the robots did a surprising thing.     At first, because of the excessive radiation, none of the Earthmencould remain outside the ship for long, even in radiation suits. Andone morning, when Steffens came out of the ship, it was to discoverthat hundreds of the robots, working through the night, had effectivelydecontaminated the entire area.     It was at this point that Steffens asked how many robots there were.He learned to his amazement that there were more than nine million.The great mass of them had politely remained a great distance from theship, spread out over the planet, since they were highly radioactive.     Steffens, meanwhile, courteously allowed Elb to probe into his mind.The robot extracted all the knowledge of matter that Steffens held,pondered over the knowledge and tried to digest it, and passed it on tothe other robots. Steffens, in turn, had a difficult time picturing themind of a thing that had never known life.     He had a vague idea of the robot's history—more, perhaps, then theyknew themselves—but he refrained from forming an opinion untilAliencon made its report. What fascinated him was Elb's amazingphilosophy, the only outlook, really, that the robot could have had.  <doc-sep>What do you      do     ? Steffens asked.     Elb replied quickly, with characteristic simplicity: We can do verylittle. A certain amount of physical knowledge was imparted to us atbirth by the Makers. We spend the main part of our time expanding thatknowledge wherever possible. We have made some progress in the naturalsciences, and some in mathematics. Our purpose in being, you see, isto serve the Makers. Any ability we can acquire will make us that muchmore fit to serve when the Makers return.     When they return? It had not occurred to Steffens until now that therobots expected the Makers to do so.     Elb regarded him out of the band of the circling eye. I see you hadsurmised that the Makers were not coming back.     If the robot could have laughed, Steffens thought it would have, then.But it just stood there, motionless, its tone politely emphatic.     It has always been our belief that the Makers would return. Why elsewould we have been built?     Steffens thought the robot would go on, but it didn't. The question, toElb, was no question at all.     Although Steffens knew already what the robot could not possibly haveknown—that the Makers were gone and would never come back—he was along time understanding. What he did was push this speculation into theback of his mind, to keep it from Elb. He had no desire to destroy afaith.     But it created a problem in him. He had begun to picture for Elb thestructure of human society, and the robot—a machine which did not eator sleep—listened gravely and tried to understand. One day Steffensmentioned God.     God? the robot repeated without comprehension. What is God?     Steffens explained briefly, and the robot answered:     It is a matter which has troubled us. We thought at first that youwere the Makers returning— Steffens remembered the brief lapse, theseeming disappointment he had sensed—but then we probed your mindsand found that you were not, that you were another kind of being,unlike either the Makers or ourselves. You were not even— Elb caughthimself—you did not happen to be telepaths. Therefore we troubledover who made you. We did detect the word 'Maker' in your theology,but it seemed to have a peculiar— Elb paused for a long while—anuntouchable, intangible meaning which varies among you.     Steffens understood. He nodded.     The Makers were the robots' God, were all the God they needed. TheMakers had built them, the planet, the universe. If he were to ask themwho made the Makers, it would be like their asking him who made God.     It was an ironic parallel, and he smiled to himself.     But on that planet, it was the last time he smiled.  <doc-sep>Quickly Steffens called for height. The ship bucked beneath him andblasted straight up; some of the crew went crashing to the deck.Steffens remained by the screen, increasing the magnification as theship drew away. And he saw another, then two, then a black glidinggroup, all matched with bunches of hanging arms.     Nothing alive but robots, he thought,      robots     . He adjusted to fullclose up as quickly as he could and the picture focused on the screen.Behind him he heard a crewman grunt in amazement.     A band of clear, plasticlike stuff ran round the head—it would be theeye, a band of eye that saw all ways. On the top of the head was asingle round spot of the plastic, and the rest was black metal, joined,he realized, with fantastic perfection. The angle of sight was nowalmost perpendicular. He could see very little of the branching arms ofthe trunk, but what had been on the screen was enough. They were themost perfect robots he had ever seen.     The ship leveled off. Steffens had no idea what to do; the sudden sightof the moving things had unnerved him. He had already sounded thealert, flicked out the defense screens. Now he had nothing to do. Hetried to concentrate on what the League Law would have him do.     The Law was no help. Contact with planet-bound races was forbiddenunder any circumstances. But could a bunch of robots be called a race?The Law said nothing about robots because Earthmen had none. Thebuilding of imaginative robots was expressly forbidden. But at anyrate, Steffens thought, he had made contact already.     While Steffens stood by the screen, completely bewildered for the firsttime in his space career, Lieutenant Ball came up, hobbling slightly.From the bright new bruise on his cheek, Steffens guessed that thesudden climb had caught him unaware. The exec was pale with surprise.     What were they? he said blankly. Lord, they looked like robots!     They were.     Ball stared confoundedly at the screen. The things were now a confusionof dots in the mist.     Almost humanoid, Steffens said, but not quite.     Ball was slowly absorbing the situation. He turned to gaze inquiringlyat Steffens.     Well, what do we do now?     Steffens shrugged. They saw us. We could leave now and let them quitepossibly make a ... a legend out of our visit, or we could go down andsee if they tie in with the buildings on Tyban IV.           Can     we go down?     Legally? I don't know. If they are robots, yes, since robots cannotconstitute a race. But there's another possibility. He tapped hisfingers on the screen confusedly. They don't have to be robots at all.They could be the natives.     Ball gulped. I don't follow you.     They could be the original inhabitants of this planet—the brains ofthem, at least, protected in radiation-proof metal. Anyway, he added,they're the most perfect mechanicals I've ever seen.     Ball shook his head, sat down abruptly. Steffens turned from thescreen, strode nervously across the Main Deck, thinking.     The Mapping Command, they called it. Theoretically, all he was supposedto do was make a closeup examination of unexplored systems, checkingfor the presence of life-forms as well as for the possibilities ofhuman colonization. Make a check and nothing else. But he knew veryclearly that if he returned to Sirius base without investigating thisrobot situation, he could very well be court-martialed one way or theother, either for breaking the Law of Contact or for dereliction ofduty.     And there was also the possibility, which abruptly occurred to him,that the robots might well be prepared to blow his ship to hell andgone.     He stopped in the center of the deck. A whole new line of thoughtopened up. If the robots were armed and ready ... could this be anoutpost?       An outpost!       He turned and raced for the bridge. If he went in and landed and waslost, then the League might never know in time. If he went in andstirred up trouble....     The thought in his mind was scattered suddenly, like a mist blown away.A voice was speaking in his mind, a deep calm voice that seemed to say:           Greetings. Do not be alarmed. We do not wish you to be alarmed. Ourdesire is only to serve....       <doc-sep>Greetings, it said! Greetings! Ball was mumbling incredulouslythrough shocked lips.     Everyone on the ship had heard the voice. When it spoke again, Steffenswas not sure whether it was just one voice or many voices.     We await your coming, it said gravely, and repeated: Our desire isonly to serve.     And then the robots sent a      picture     .     As perfect and as clear as a tridim movie, a rectangular plate tookshape in Steffens' mind. On the face of the plate, standing aloneagainst a background of red-brown, bare rocks, was one of the robots.With slow, perfect movement, the robot carefully lifted one of thehanging arms of its side, of its      right     side, and extended it towardSteffens, a graciously offered hand.     Steffens felt a peculiar, compelling urge to take the hand, realizedright away that the urge to take the hand was not entirely his. Therobot mind had helped.     When the picture vanished, he knew that the others had seen it. Hewaited for a while; there was no further contact, but the feeling ofthe robot's urging was still strong within him. He had an idea that, ifthey wanted to, the robots could control his mind. So when nothing morehappened, he began to lose his fear.     While the crew watched in fascination, Steffens tried to talk back.He concentrated hard on what he was saying, said it aloud for goodmeasure, then held his own hand extended in the robot manner of shakinghands.     Greetings, he said, because it was what      they     had said, andexplained: We have come from the stars.     It was overly dramatic, but so was the whole situation. He wonderedbaffledly if he should have let the Alien Contact crew handle it. Ordersomeone to stand there, feeling like a fool, and      think     a message?     No, it was his responsibility; he had to go on:     We request—we respectfully request permission to land upon yourplanet.  <doc-sep>Would you like to see a doctor?     Steffens jumped at the familiar words, then realized to what the robotwas referring.     No, not yet, he said, thank you. He swallowed hard as the robotscontinued waiting patiently.     Could you tell me, he said at last, how old you are? Individually?     By your reckoning, said his robot, and paused to make thecalculation, I am forty-four years, seven months, and eighteen days ofage, with ten years and approximately nine months yet to be alive.     Steffens tried to understand that.     It would perhaps simplify our conversations, said the robot, ifyou were to refer to me by a name, as is your custom. Using thefirst—letters—of my designation, my name would translate as Elb.     Glad to meet you, Steffens mumbled.     You are called 'Stef,' said the robot obligingly. Then it added,pointing an arm at the robot near Ball: The age of—Peb—is seventeenyears, one month and four days. Peb has therefore remaining somethirty-eight years.     Steffens was trying to keep up. Then the life span was obviously aboutfifty-five years. But the cities, and the carbon dioxide? The robot,Elb, had said that the Makers were similar to him, and therefore oxygenand plant life would have been needed. Unless—     He remembered the buildings on Tyban IV.     Unless the Makers had not come from this planet at all.     His mind helplessly began to revolve. It was Ball who restored order.     Do you build yourselves? the exec asked.     Peb answered quickly, that faint note of happiness again apparent, asif the robot was glad for the opportunity of answering.     No, we do not build ourselves. We are made by the— another pause fora word—by the      Factory     .     The Factory?     Yes. It was built by the Makers. Would you care to see it?     Both of the Earthmen nodded dumbly.     Would you prefer to use your—skiff? It is quite a long way from here.     It was indeed a long way, even by skiff. Some of the Aliencon crew wentalong with them. And near the edge of the twilight zone, on the otherside of the world, they saw the Factory outlined in the dim light ofdusk. A huge, fantastic block, wrought of gray and cloudy metal, lay ina valley between two worn mountains. Steffens went down low, circlingin the skiff, stared in awe at the size of the building. Robots movedoutside the thing, little black bugs in the distance—moving aroundtheir birthplace.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What motivates Steffens to interact with the robots in Orphans of the Void?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in A CITY NEAR CENTAURUS? [SEP] <s>   A CITY NEAR CENTAURUS     By BILL DOEDE     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        The city was sacred, but not to its gods.       Michaelson was a god—but far from sacred!        Crouched in the ancient doorway like an animal peering out from hisburrow, Mr. Michaelson saw the native.     At first he was startled, thinking it might be someone else from theEarth settlement who had discovered the old city before him. Then hesaw the glint of sun against the metallic skirt, and relaxed.     He chuckled to himself, wondering with amusement what a webfooted manwas doing in an old dead city so far from his people. Some facts wereknown about the people of Alpha Centaurus II. They were not actuallynatives, he recalled. They were a colony from the fifth planet ofthe system. They were a curious people. Some were highly intelligent,though uneducated.     He decided to ignore the man for the moment. He was far down theancient street, a mere speck against the sand. There would be plenty oftime to wonder about him.     He gazed out from his position at the complex variety of buildingsbefore him. Some were small, obviously homes. Others were hugewith tall, frail spires standing against the pale blue sky. Squarebuildings, ellipsoid, spheroid. Beautiful, dream-stuff bridgesconnected tall, conical towers, bridges that still swung in the windafter half a million years. Late afternoon sunlight shone against ebonysurfaces. The sands of many centuries had blown down the wide streetsand filled the doorways. Desert plants grew from roofs of smallerbuildings.     Ignoring the native, Mr. Michaelson poked about among the ruinshappily, exclaiming to himself about some particular artifact,marveling at its state of preservation, holding it this way and that tocatch the late afternoon sun, smiling, clucking gleefully. He crawledover the rubble through old doorways half filled with the accumulationof ages. He dug experimentally in the sand with his hands, like a dog,under a roof that had weathered half a million years of rain and sun.Then he crawled out again, covered with dust and cobwebs.  <doc-sep>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>He turned and walked off, not looking back.     Michaelson stood in the ancient street, tall, gaunt, feet planted wide,hands in pockets, watching the webfoot until he was out of sight beyonda huge circular building. There was a man to watch. There was one ofthe intelligent ones. One look into the alert old eyes had told himthat.     Michaelson shook his head, and went about satisfying his curiosity.He entered buildings without thought of roofs falling in, or decayedfloors dropping from under his weight. He began to collect small items,making a pile of them in the street. An ancient bowl, metal untouchedby the ages. A statue of a man, one foot high, correct to the minutestdetail, showing how identical they had been to Earthmen. He found booksstill standing on ancient shelves but was afraid to touch them withouttools.     Darkness came swiftly and he was forced out into the street.     He stood there alone feeling the age of the place. Even the smellof age was in the air. Silver moonlight from the two moons filteredthrough clear air down upon the ruins. The city lay now in darkness,dead and still, waiting for morning so it could lie dead and still inthe sun.     There was no hurry to be going home, although he was alone, althoughthis was Alpha Centaurus II with many unknowns, many dangers ...although home was a very great distance away. There was no one backthere to worry about him.     His wife had died many years ago back on Earth. No children. Hisfriends in the settlement would not look for him for another day atleast. Anyway, the tiny cylinder, buried in flesh behind his ear, athing of mystery and immense power, could take him home instantly,without effort save a flicker of thought.     You did not leave, as I asked you.     Michaelson whirled around at the sound of the native's voice. Then herelaxed. He said, You shouldn't sneak up on a man like that.     You must leave, or I will be forced to kill you. I do not want to killyou, but if I must.... He made a clucking sound deep in the throat.The spirits are angry.     Nonsense. Superstition! But never mind. You have been here longerthan I. Tell me, what are those instruments in the rooms? It looks likea clock but I'm certain it had some other function.     What rooms?     Oh, come now. The small rooms back there. Look like they werebedrooms.     I do not know. The webfoot drew closer. Michaelson decided he wassixty or seventy years old, at least.     You've been here a long time. You are intelligent, and you must beeducated, the way you talk. That gadget looks like a time-piece of somesort. What is it? What does it measure?     I insist that you go. The webfoot held something in his hand.     No. Michaelson looked off down the street, trying to ignore thenative, trying to feel the life of the city as it might have been.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>  Mr. Dawes  came home anhour later, looking tired.Mom pecked him lightly onthe forehead. He glanced atthe evening paper, and thenspoke to Sol.     Hear you been askingquestions, Mr. Becker.     Sol nodded, embarrassed.Guess I have. I'm awfullycurious about this Armagonplace. Never heard of anythinglike it before.     Dawes grunted. You ain'ta reporter?     Oh, no. I'm an engineer. Iwas just satisfying my owncuriosity.     Uh-huh. Dawes lookedreflective. You wouldn't bethinkin' about writing us upor anything. I mean, this is apretty private affair.     Writing it up? Solblinked. I hadn't thought ofit. But you'll have to admit—it'ssure interesting.     Yeah, Dawes said narrowly.I guess it would be.     Supper! Mom called.     After the meal, they spenta quiet evening at home. Sallywent to bed, screaming herreluctance, at eight-thirty.Mom, dozing in the big chairnear the fireplace, padded upstairsat nine. Then Dawesyawned widely, stood up, andsaid goodnight at quarter-of-ten.     He paused in the doorwaybefore leaving.     I'd think about that, hesaid. Writing it up, I mean.A lot of folks would thinkyou were just plum crazy.     Sol laughed feebly. Iguess they would at that.     Goodnight, Dawes said.     Goodnight.     He read Sally's copy of      Treasure Island     for abouthalf an hour. Then he undressed,made himself comfortableon the sofa, snuggledunder the soft blanketthat Mom had provided, andshut his eyes.     He reviewed the events ofthe day before dropping offto sleep. The troublesomeSally. The strange dreamworld of Armagon. The visitto the barber shop. The removalof Brundage's body.The conversations with thetownspeople. Dawes' suspiciousattitude ...     Then sleep came. <doc-sep>Eric caught a faint nod here, a gesture there. Kroon nodded as ifin satisfaction. He turned to the girl, And what is your opinion,Daughter of the City?     Nolette's expression held sorrow, as if she looked into the far future.She said, He is Eric the Bronze. I have no doubt.     Eric asked, And what is this Legend of Eric the Bronze? Why am I sodespised in the city?     Kroon answered, According to the Ancient Legend you will destroy thecity. This, and other things.     Eric gaped. No wonder the crowd had shown such hatred. But why werethe elders so friendly? They were obviously the governing body, and ifthere was strife between them and the people it had not shown in therespect the crowd had accorded Nolette.     Kroon said, I see you are puzzled. Let me tell you the story of theCity. The City is old. It dates from long ago when the canals of Marsran clear and green with water, and the deserts were vineyards andgardens. The drouth came, and the changes in climate, and soon itbecame plain that the people of Mars were doomed. They had ships, andcould build more, and gradually they left to colonize other planets.Yet they could take little of their science. And fear and riotsdestroyed much. Also there were those who were filled with love forthis homeland, and who thought that one day it might be habitableagain. All the skill of the ancient Martian fathers went into thebuilding of a giant machine, the machine that is the City, to protect asmall colony of those who were chosen to remain on Mars.     This whole city is a machine! Eric asked.     Yes, or the product of one. The heart of it lies underneath our feet,in caverns beneath this building. The nature of the machine is this,that it translates thought into reality.     Eric stared. The idea was staggering.     This is essentially simple, although the technology is complex. It isnecessary to have a recording device, to capture thought, a transmutingdevice capable of transmuting the red dust of the desert into anysort of material desired, and a construction device, to assemble thismaterial into the pattern already recorded from thought. Kroon paused.You still doubt, my friend. Perhaps you are thirsty after your escape.Think strongly of a tall glass of cold water, visualize it in yourmind, the sight and the fluidity and the touch of it.     Eric did so. Without warning a glass of water stood on the table beforehim. He touched the water to his lips. It was cool and satisfying. Hedrank it, convinced completely.     Eric asked, And I am to destroy the City?     Yes. The time has come.     But why? Eric demanded. For an instant he could see the twinklingbeauty as clearly as if he had stood outside the walls of this building.     Kroon said, There are difficulties. The machine builds according tothe mass will of the people, though it is sensitive to the individualin areas where it does not conflict with the imagination of the mass.We have had strangers, visitors, and even our own people, who grewdrunk with the power of the machine, who dreamed more and more lust andgreed into existence. These were banished from the city, and so strongis the call of the city that many of them became victims of their ownevilness, and now walk mindlessly, with no thought but to seek for thebeauty they have lost here.     Kroon sighed. The people have lost the will to learn. Many do not evenknow of the machine. Our science is almost gone, and only a few of us,the dreamers, the elders, have kept alive the old knowledge of themachine and its history. By the collected powers of our imagination webuild and control the outward appearance of the city.     We have passed this down from father to son. A part of the ancientLegend is that the builders made provisions for the machine to bedestroyed when contact with outsiders had been made once again, so thatour people would again have to struggle forward to knowledge and power.The instrument of destruction was to be a man termed Eric the Bronze.It is not that you are reborn. It is just that sometime such a manwould come.     Eric said, I can understand the Bronze part. They had thought that aspace man might well be sun tanned. They had thought that a science toprotect against this beautiful illusion would provide a metal shieldof some sort, probably copper in nature. That such a man should comeis inevitable. But why Eric. Why the name Eric?     For the first time Nolette spoke. She said quietly, The name Ericwas an honorable name of the ancient fathers. It must have been theirthought that the new beginning should wait for some of their own farflung kind to return.     Eric nodded. He asked, What happens now?     Nothing. Dwell here with us and you will be safe from our people. Ifthe prediction is not soon fulfilled and you are not the Eric of theLegend, you may stay or go as you desire.     My brother, Garve. What about him?     He loves the city. He will also stay, though he will be outside thisbuilding. Kroon clasped his hands. Nolette, will you show Eric hisquarters?  <doc-sep>They walked toward the ugly red mound that jutted above the green. Whenthey came close enough, he saw the bodies lying there ... the remains,actually, of what had once been bodies. He felt too sickened to go onwalking.     It may seem cruel now, she said, but the Martians realized thatthere is no cure for the will to conquer. There is no safety from it,either, as the people of Earth and Venus discovered, unless it isgiven an impossible obstacle to overcome. So the Martians provided theConquerors with a mountain. They themselves wanted to climb. They hadto.     He was hardly listening as he walked away from Helene toward the erodedhills. The crew members of the first four ships were skeletons tiedtogether with imperishably strong rope about their waists. Far beyondthem were those from      Mars V     , too freshly dead to have decayedmuch ... Anhauser with his rope cut, a bullet in his head; Jacobs andMarsha and the others ... Terrence much past them all. He had managedto climb higher than anyone else and he lay with his arms stretchedout, his fingers still clutching at rock outcroppings.     The trail they left wound over the ground, chipped in places for holds,red elsewhere with blood from torn hands. Terrence was more than twelvemiles from the ship—horizontally.     Bruce lifted Marsha and carried her back over the rocky dust, into thefresh fragrance of the high grass, and across it to the shade and peacebeside the canal.     He put her down. She looked peaceful enough, more peaceful than thatother time, years ago, when the two of them seemed to have shared somuch, when the future had not yet destroyed her. He saw the shadow ofHelene bend across Marsha's face against the background of the silentlyflowing water of the cool, green canal.     You loved her?     Once, Bruce said. She might have been sane. They got her when shewas young. Too young to fight. But she would have, I think, if she'dbeen older when they got her.     He sat looking down at Marsha's face, and then at the water with theleaves floating down it.     '... And the springs that flow on the floor of the valley will neverseem fresh or clear for thinking of the glitter of the mountain waterin the feathery green of the year....'     He stood up, walked back with Helene along the canal toward the calmcity. He didn't look back.     They've all been dead quite a while, Bruce said wonderingly. YetI seemed to be hearing from Terrence until only a short time ago.Are—are the climbers still climbing—somewhere, Helene?     Who knows? Helene answered softly. Maybe. I doubt if even theMartians have the answer to that.     They entered the city.   <doc-sep>Kal-Jmar was the riddle of the Solar System. It was the only remainingcity of the ancient Martian race—the race that, legends said, hadrisen to greater heights than any other Solar culture. The machines,the artifacts, the records of the Martians were all there, perfectlypreserved inside the city's bubble-like dome, after God knew how manythousands of years. But they couldn't be reached.     For Kal-Jmar's dome was not the thing of steelite that protectedLillis: it was a tenuous, globular field of force that defied analysisas it defied explosives and diamond drills. The field extended bothabove and below the ground, and tunneling was of no avail. No one knewwhat had happened to the Martians, whether they were the ancestors ofthe present decadent Martian race, or a different species. No one knewanything about them or about Kal-Jmar.     In the early days, when the conquest of Mars was just beginning, Earthscientists had been wild to get into the city. They had observed itfrom every angle, taken photographs of its architecture and the robotsthat still patrolled its fantastically winding streets, and then theyhad tried everything they knew to pierce the wall.     Later, however, when every unsuccessful attempt had precipitated abloody uprising of the present-day Martians—resulting in a rapiddwindling of the number of Martians—the Mars Protectorate had steppedin and forbidden any further experiments; forbidden, in fact, anyEarthman to go near the place.     Thus matter had stood for over a hundred years, until Harold Tate.Tate, a physicist, had stumbled on a field that seemed to be identicalin properties to the Kal-Jmar dome; and what is more, he had found aforce that would break it down.     And so he had made his first trip to Mars, and within twenty-fourhours, by the blindest of chances, blurted out his secret to SymeRector, the scourge of the spaceways, the man with a thousand creditson his sleek, tigerish head.     Syme's smile was not tigerish now; it was carefully, studiedly mild.For Tate was no longer drunk, and it was important that it should notoccur to him that he had been indiscreet.     This is native territory we're coming to, Harold, he said. Betterstrap on your gun.     Why. Are they really dangerous?     They're unpredictable, Syme told him. They're built differently, andthey think differently. They breathe like us, down in their cavernswhere there's air, but they also eat sand, and get their oxygen thatway.     Yes, I've heard about that, Tate said. Iron oxide—very interestingmetabolism. He got his energy pistol out of the compartment andstrapped it on absently.     Syme turned the little sand car up a gentle rise towards the tortuoushill country in the distance. Not only that, he continued. Theyeat the damndest stuff. Lichens and fungi and tumble-grass off thedeserts—all full of deadly poisons, from arsenic up the line toxopite. They seem intelligent enough—in their own way—but they nevercome near our cities and they either can't or won't learn Terrestrial.When the first colonists came here, they had to learn      their     crazylanguage. Every word of it can mean any one of a dozen differentthings, depending on the inflection you give it. I can speak it some,but not much. Nobody can. We don't think the same.     So you think they might attack us? Tate asked again, nervously.     They      might     do anything, Syme said curtly. Don't worry about it.     The hills were much closer than they had seemed, because of Mars'deceptively low horizon. In half an hour they were in the midst of awilderness of fantastically eroded dunes and channels, laboring onsliding treads up the sides of steep hills only to slither down againon the other side.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in A CITY NEAR CENTAURUS?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the location of the story ""A City Near Centaurus""? [SEP] <s>   A CITY NEAR CENTAURUS     By BILL DOEDE     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        The city was sacred, but not to its gods.       Michaelson was a god—but far from sacred!        Crouched in the ancient doorway like an animal peering out from hisburrow, Mr. Michaelson saw the native.     At first he was startled, thinking it might be someone else from theEarth settlement who had discovered the old city before him. Then hesaw the glint of sun against the metallic skirt, and relaxed.     He chuckled to himself, wondering with amusement what a webfooted manwas doing in an old dead city so far from his people. Some facts wereknown about the people of Alpha Centaurus II. They were not actuallynatives, he recalled. They were a colony from the fifth planet ofthe system. They were a curious people. Some were highly intelligent,though uneducated.     He decided to ignore the man for the moment. He was far down theancient street, a mere speck against the sand. There would be plenty oftime to wonder about him.     He gazed out from his position at the complex variety of buildingsbefore him. Some were small, obviously homes. Others were hugewith tall, frail spires standing against the pale blue sky. Squarebuildings, ellipsoid, spheroid. Beautiful, dream-stuff bridgesconnected tall, conical towers, bridges that still swung in the windafter half a million years. Late afternoon sunlight shone against ebonysurfaces. The sands of many centuries had blown down the wide streetsand filled the doorways. Desert plants grew from roofs of smallerbuildings.     Ignoring the native, Mr. Michaelson poked about among the ruinshappily, exclaiming to himself about some particular artifact,marveling at its state of preservation, holding it this way and that tocatch the late afternoon sun, smiling, clucking gleefully. He crawledover the rubble through old doorways half filled with the accumulationof ages. He dug experimentally in the sand with his hands, like a dog,under a roof that had weathered half a million years of rain and sun.Then he crawled out again, covered with dust and cobwebs.  <doc-sep>   IT WAS A DULL, ROUTINE LITTLE     WORLD. IT DIDN'T EVEN HAVE A     CITY. EVERYTHING IT HAD WAS     IN THE GARDEN     BY R. A. LAFFERTY     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, March 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The protozoic recorder chirped like a bird. Not only would there belife traces on that little moon, but it would be a lively place. Sothey skipped several steps in the procedure.     The chordata discerner read      Positive     over most of the surface. Therewas spinal fluid on that orb, rivers of it. So again they omittedseveral tests and went to the cognition scanner. Would it show Thoughton the body?     Naturally they did not get results at once, nor did they expect to; itrequired a fine adjustment. But they were disappointed that they foundnothing for several hours as they hovered high over the rotation. Thenit came—clearly and definitely, but from quite a small location only.     Limited, said Steiner, as though within a pale. As though there werebut one city, if that is its form. Shall we follow the rest of thesurface to find another, or concentrate on this? It'll be twelve hoursbefore it's back in our ken if we let it go now.     Let's lock on this one and finish the scan. Then we can do the rest ofthe world to make sure we've missed nothing, said Stark.     There was one more test to run, one very tricky and difficult ofanalysis, that with the Extraordinary Perception Locator. This wasdesigned simply to locate a source of superior thought. But this mightbe so varied or so unfamiliar that often both the machine and thedesigner of it were puzzled as to how to read the results.     The E. P. Locator had been designed by Glaser. But when the Locatorhad refused to read      Positive     when turned on the inventor himself,bad blood developed between machine and man. Glaser knew that he hadextraordinary perception. He was a much honored man in his field. Hetold the machine so heatedly.     The machine replied, with such warmth that its relays chattered, thatGlaser did      not     have extraordinary perception; he had only ordinaryperception to an extraordinary degree. There is a      difference     , themachine insisted.     It was for this reason that Glaser used that model no more, but builtothers more amenable. And it was for this reason also that the ownersof Little Probe had acquired the original machine so cheaply.     And there was no denying that the Extraordinary Perception Locator (orEppel) was a contrary machine. On Earth it had read      Positive     on anumber of crack-pots, including Waxey Sax, a jazz tootler who could noteven read music. But it had also read      Positive     on ninety per cent ofthe acknowledged superior minds of the Earth. In space it had been asound guide to the unusual intelligences encountered. Yet on Suzuki-Miit had read      Positive     on a two-inch-long worm, only one of them out ofbillions. For the countless identical worms no trace of anything at allwas shown by the test.     So it was with mixed expectations that Steiner locked onto the areaand got a flick. He then narrowed to a smaller area (apparently oneindividual, though this could not be certain) and got very definiteaction. Eppel was busy. The machine had a touch of the ham in it, andassumed an air of importance when it ran these tests.     Finally it signaled the result, the most exasperating result it everproduces: the single orange light. It was the equivalent of the shrugof the shoulders in a man. They called it the You tell      me     light.     So among the intelligences there was at least one that might beextraordinary, though possibly in a crackpot way. It is good to beforewarned.  <doc-sep>He turned and walked off, not looking back.     Michaelson stood in the ancient street, tall, gaunt, feet planted wide,hands in pockets, watching the webfoot until he was out of sight beyonda huge circular building. There was a man to watch. There was one ofthe intelligent ones. One look into the alert old eyes had told himthat.     Michaelson shook his head, and went about satisfying his curiosity.He entered buildings without thought of roofs falling in, or decayedfloors dropping from under his weight. He began to collect small items,making a pile of them in the street. An ancient bowl, metal untouchedby the ages. A statue of a man, one foot high, correct to the minutestdetail, showing how identical they had been to Earthmen. He found booksstill standing on ancient shelves but was afraid to touch them withouttools.     Darkness came swiftly and he was forced out into the street.     He stood there alone feeling the age of the place. Even the smellof age was in the air. Silver moonlight from the two moons filteredthrough clear air down upon the ruins. The city lay now in darkness,dead and still, waiting for morning so it could lie dead and still inthe sun.     There was no hurry to be going home, although he was alone, althoughthis was Alpha Centaurus II with many unknowns, many dangers ...although home was a very great distance away. There was no one backthere to worry about him.     His wife had died many years ago back on Earth. No children. Hisfriends in the settlement would not look for him for another day atleast. Anyway, the tiny cylinder, buried in flesh behind his ear, athing of mystery and immense power, could take him home instantly,without effort save a flicker of thought.     You did not leave, as I asked you.     Michaelson whirled around at the sound of the native's voice. Then herelaxed. He said, You shouldn't sneak up on a man like that.     You must leave, or I will be forced to kill you. I do not want to killyou, but if I must.... He made a clucking sound deep in the throat.The spirits are angry.     Nonsense. Superstition! But never mind. You have been here longerthan I. Tell me, what are those instruments in the rooms? It looks likea clock but I'm certain it had some other function.     What rooms?     Oh, come now. The small rooms back there. Look like they werebedrooms.     I do not know. The webfoot drew closer. Michaelson decided he wassixty or seventy years old, at least.     You've been here a long time. You are intelligent, and you must beeducated, the way you talk. That gadget looks like a time-piece of somesort. What is it? What does it measure?     I insist that you go. The webfoot held something in his hand.     No. Michaelson looked off down the street, trying to ignore thenative, trying to feel the life of the city as it might have been.  <doc-sep>When it came over the hastily established camp, the rocket was low,obviously looking for a landing site. It was a military craft, from theoutpost on the near moon, and forward, near the nose, there was theblazoned emblem of the Ninth Fleet. The rocket roared directly overExtrone's tent, turned slowly, spouting fuel expensively, and settledinto the scrub forest, turning the vegetation beneath it sere by itsblasts.     Extrone sat on an upholstered stool before his tent and spatdisgustedly and combed his beard with his blunt fingers.     Shortly, from the direction of the rocket, a group of four high-rankingofficers came out of the forest, heading toward him. They were spruce,the officers, with military discipline holding their waists in andknees almost stiff.     What in hell do you want? Extrone asked.     They stopped a respectful distance away. Sir.... one began.     Haven't I told you gentlemen that rockets frighten the game? Extronedemanded, ominously not raising his voice.     Sir, the lead officer said, it's another alien ship. It was sighteda few hours ago, off this very planet, sir.     Extrone's face looked much too innocent. How did it get there,gentlemen? Why wasn't it destroyed?     We lost it again, sir. Temporarily, sir.     So? Extrone mocked.     We thought you ought to return to a safer planet, sir. Until we couldlocate and destroy it.     Extrone stared at them for a space. Then, indifferently, he turnedaway, in the direction of a resting bearer. You! he said. Hey! Bringme a drink! He faced the officers again. He smiled maliciously. I'mstaying here.     The lead officer licked his firm lower lip. But, sir....     Extrone toyed with his beard. About a year ago, gentlemen, there wasan alien ship around here then, wasn't there? And you destroyed it,didn't you?     Yes, sir. When we located it, sir.     You'll destroy this one, too, Extrone said.     We have a tight patrol, sir. It can't slip through. But it might try along range bombardment, sir.  <doc-sep>Bombay, India     June 8     Mr. Joe Binkle     Plaza Ritz Arms     New York City     Dear Joe:     Greetings, greetings, greetings. Hold firm in your wretched projection,for tomorrow you will not be alone in the not-world. In two days I,Glmpauszn, will be born.     Today I hang in our newly developed not-pod just within the mirrorgateway, torn with the agony that we calculated must go with suchtremendous wavelength fluctuations. I have attuned myself to a fetuswithin the body of a not-woman in the not-world. Already I am staticand for hours have looked into this weird extension of the Universewith fear and trepidation.     As soon as my stasis was achieved, I tried to contact you, but gotno response. What could have diminished your powers of articulatewave interaction to make you incapable of receiving my messages andreturning them? My wave went out to yours and found it, barely pulsingand surrounded with an impregnable chimera.     Quickly, from the not-world vibrations about you, I learned thenot-knowledge of your location. So I must communicate with you by whatthe not-world calls mail till we meet. For this purpose I mustutilize the feeble vibrations of various not-people through whoseinadequate articulation I will attempt to make my moves known to you.Each time I will pick a city other than the one I am in at the time.     I, Glmpauszn, come equipped with powers evolved from your fragmentaryreports before you ceased to vibrate to us and with a vast treasuryof facts from indirect sources. Soon our tortured people will be freeof the fearsome not-folk and I will be their liberator. You failed inyour task, but I will try to get you off with light punishment when wereturn again.     The hand that writes this letter is that of a boy in the not-city ofBombay in the not-country of India. He does not know he writes it.Tomorrow it will be someone else. You must never know of my exactlocation, for the not-people might have access to the information.     I must leave off now because the not-child is about to be born. When itis alone in the room, it will be spirited away and I will spring fromthe pod on the gateway into its crib and will be its exact vibrationallikeness.     I have tremendous powers. But the not-people must never know I am amongthem. This is the only way I could arrive in the room where the gatewaylies without arousing suspicion. I will grow up as the not-child inorder that I might destroy the not-people completely.     All is well, only they shot this information file into my matrix toofast. I'm having a hard time sorting facts and make the right decision.Gezsltrysk, what a task!     Farewell till later.     Glmpauszn  <doc-sep>Kal-Jmar was the riddle of the Solar System. It was the only remainingcity of the ancient Martian race—the race that, legends said, hadrisen to greater heights than any other Solar culture. The machines,the artifacts, the records of the Martians were all there, perfectlypreserved inside the city's bubble-like dome, after God knew how manythousands of years. But they couldn't be reached.     For Kal-Jmar's dome was not the thing of steelite that protectedLillis: it was a tenuous, globular field of force that defied analysisas it defied explosives and diamond drills. The field extended bothabove and below the ground, and tunneling was of no avail. No one knewwhat had happened to the Martians, whether they were the ancestors ofthe present decadent Martian race, or a different species. No one knewanything about them or about Kal-Jmar.     In the early days, when the conquest of Mars was just beginning, Earthscientists had been wild to get into the city. They had observed itfrom every angle, taken photographs of its architecture and the robotsthat still patrolled its fantastically winding streets, and then theyhad tried everything they knew to pierce the wall.     Later, however, when every unsuccessful attempt had precipitated abloody uprising of the present-day Martians—resulting in a rapiddwindling of the number of Martians—the Mars Protectorate had steppedin and forbidden any further experiments; forbidden, in fact, anyEarthman to go near the place.     Thus matter had stood for over a hundred years, until Harold Tate.Tate, a physicist, had stumbled on a field that seemed to be identicalin properties to the Kal-Jmar dome; and what is more, he had found aforce that would break it down.     And so he had made his first trip to Mars, and within twenty-fourhours, by the blindest of chances, blurted out his secret to SymeRector, the scourge of the spaceways, the man with a thousand creditson his sleek, tigerish head.     Syme's smile was not tigerish now; it was carefully, studiedly mild.For Tate was no longer drunk, and it was important that it should notoccur to him that he had been indiscreet.     This is native territory we're coming to, Harold, he said. Betterstrap on your gun.     Why. Are they really dangerous?     They're unpredictable, Syme told him. They're built differently, andthey think differently. They breathe like us, down in their cavernswhere there's air, but they also eat sand, and get their oxygen thatway.     Yes, I've heard about that, Tate said. Iron oxide—very interestingmetabolism. He got his energy pistol out of the compartment andstrapped it on absently.     Syme turned the little sand car up a gentle rise towards the tortuoushill country in the distance. Not only that, he continued. Theyeat the damndest stuff. Lichens and fungi and tumble-grass off thedeserts—all full of deadly poisons, from arsenic up the line toxopite. They seem intelligent enough—in their own way—but they nevercome near our cities and they either can't or won't learn Terrestrial.When the first colonists came here, they had to learn      their     crazylanguage. Every word of it can mean any one of a dozen differentthings, depending on the inflection you give it. I can speak it some,but not much. Nobody can. We don't think the same.     So you think they might attack us? Tate asked again, nervously.     They      might     do anything, Syme said curtly. Don't worry about it.     The hills were much closer than they had seemed, because of Mars'deceptively low horizon. In half an hour they were in the midst of awilderness of fantastically eroded dunes and channels, laboring onsliding treads up the sides of steep hills only to slither down againon the other side.  <doc-sep>The third planet was a blank, gleaming ball until they were in close,and then the blankness resolved into folds and piling clouds and dimly,in places, the surface showed through. The ship went down through theclouds, falling the last few miles on her brakers. They came into themisty gas below, leveled off and moved along the edge of the twilightzone.     The moons of this solar system had yielded nothing. The third planet, ahot, heavy world which had no free oxygen and from which the monitorshad detected nothing, was all that was left. Steffens expected nothing,but he had to try.     At a height of several miles, the ship moved up the zone, scanning,moving in the familiar slow spiral of the Mapping Command. Faint darkoutlines of bare rocks and hills moved by below.     Steffens turned the screen to full magnification and watched silently.     After a while he saw a city.     The main screen being on, the whole crew saw it. Someone shouted andthey stopped to stare, and Steffens was about to call for altitude whenhe saw that the city was dead.     He looked down on splintered walls that were like cloudy glass piecesrising above a plain, rising in a shattered circle. Near the centerof the city, there was a huge, charred hole at least three miles indiameter and very deep. In all the piled rubble, nothing moved.     Steffens went down low to make sure, then brought the ship around andheaded out across the main continent into the bright area of the sun.The rocks rolled by below, there was no vegetation at all, and thenthere were more cities—all with the black depression, the circularstamp that blotted away and fused the buildings into nothing.     No one on the ship had anything to say. None had ever seen a war, forthere had not been war on Earth or near it for more than three hundredyears.     The ship circled around to the dark side of the planet. When they weredown below a mile, the radiation counters began to react. It becameapparent, from the dials, that there could be nothing alive.     After a while Ball said: Well, which do you figure? Did our friendsfrom the fourth planet do this, or were they the same people as these?     Steffens did not take his eyes from the screen. They were coming aroundto the daylight side.     We'll go down and look for the answer, he said. Break out theradiation suits.     He paused, thinking. If the ones on the fourth planet were alien tothis world, they were from outer space, could not have come from oneof the other planets here. They had starships and were warlike. Then,thousands of years ago. He began to realize how important it really wasthat Ball's question be answered.     When the ship had gone very low, looking for a landing site, Steffenswas still by the screen. It was Steffens, then, who saw the thing move.     Down far below, it had been a still black shadow, and then it moved.Steffens froze. And he knew, even at that distance, that it was a robot.       Tiny and black, a mass of hanging arms and legs, the thing went glidingdown the slope of a hill. Steffens saw it clearly for a full second,saw the dull ball of its head tilt upward as the ship came over, andthen the hill was past.  <doc-sep>Three days later, Tobias Whiting disappeared.     The caravan had been making no more than ten or fifteen miles a day.Their water supply was almost gone but on the fourth day they hoped toreach an oasis in the desert. Two of the older folks had died offatigue. A third was critically ill and there was little that could bedone for him. The food supply was running short, but they could alwaysslaughter their camels for food and make their way to Oasis City, stillfour hundred and some miles away, with nothing but the clothes on theirbacks.     And then, during the fourth night, Tobias Whiting disappeared, takingSteve's unicopter. A sentry had heard the low muffled whine of theturbojets during the night and had seen the small craft take off, buthad assumed Steve had taken it up for some reason. Each day Steve haddone so, reconnoitering for signs of the Kumaji.     But why? someone asked. Why?     At first there was no answer. Then a woman whose husband had died theday before said: It's no secret Whiting has plenty of money—with theKumaji.     None of them looked at Mary. She stood there defiantly, not sayinganything, and Steve squeezed her hand.     Now, wait a minute, one of Whiting's friends said.     Wait, nothing. This was Jeremy Gort, who twice had been mayor of thecolony. I know how Whiting's mind works. He slaved all his life forthat money, that's the way he'll see it. Cantwell, didn't you say theKumaji were looking for us, to kill us?     That's what I was told, Steve said.     All right, Gort went on relentlessly. Then this is what I figure musthave happened. Whiting got to brooding over his lost fortune and finallydecided he had to have it. So, he went off at night in Cantwell's'copter, determined to get it. Only catch is, folks, if I know theKumaji, they won't just give it to him—not by a long sight.     No? someone asked.     No sir. They'll trade. For our location. And if Whiting went off likethat without even saying good-bye to his girl here, my guess is he'llmake the trade. His voice reflected some bitterness.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the location of the story ""A City Near Centaurus""?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What kind of person is Mr. Michaelson and can you tell me more about him? [SEP] <s>When he awoke dawn was red against thin clouds in the east.     Old Maota stood in the street with webbed feet planted far apart inthe sand, a weapon in the crook of his arm. It was a long tube affair,familiar to Michaelson.     Michaelson asked, Did you sleep well?     No.     I'm sorry to hear that.     How do you feel?     Fine, but my head aches a little.     Sorry, Maota said.     For what?     For hitting you. Pain is not for gods like you.     Michaelson relaxed somewhat. What kind of man are you? First you tryto break my skull, then you apologize.     I abhor pain. I should have killed you outright.     He thought about that for a moment, eyeing the weapon.     It looked in good working order. Slim and shiny and innocent, it lookedlike a glorified African blowgun. But he was not deceived by itsappearance. It was a deadly weapon.       Well, he said, before you kill me, tell me about the book. He heldit up for Maota to see.     What about the book?     What kind of book is it?     What does Mr. Earthgod mean, what      kind     of book? You have seen it. Itis like any other book, except for the material and the fact that ittalks.     No, no. I mean, what's in it?     Poetry.     Poetry? For God's sake, why poetry? Why not mathematics or history?Why not tell how to make the metal of the book itself? Now there is asubject worthy of a book.     Maota shook his head. One does not study a dead culture to learn howthey made things, but how they thought. But we are wasting time. I mustkill you now, so I can get some rest.     The old man raised the gun.  <doc-sep>Maota laughed, then sobered quickly. You lie.     No.     If I had this machine, could I travel as you?     Yes.     Then I'll kill you and take yours.     It would not work for you.     Why?     Each machine is tailored for each person.     The old man hung his head. He looked down into the black, charredhole. He walked all around the hole. He kicked at the sand, lookinghalf-heartedly again for the book.     Look, Michaelson said. I'm sure I've convinced you that I'm human.Why not have a try at negotiating our differences?     He looked up. His expressive eyes, deep, resigned, studied Michaelson'sface. Finally he shook his head sadly. When we first met I hoped wecould think the ancient thoughts together. But our paths diverge. Wehave finished, you and I.     He turned and started off, shoulders slumped dejectedly.     Michaelson caught up to him. Are you leaving the city?     No.     Where are you going?     Away. Far away. Maota looked off toward the hills, eyes distant.     Don't be stupid, old man. How can you go far away and not leave thecity?     There are many directions. You would not understand.     East. West. North. South. Up. Down.     No, no. There is another direction. Come, if you must see.     Michaelson followed him far down the street. They came to a section ofthe city he had not seen before. Buildings were smaller, spires dwarfedagainst larger structures. Here a path was packed in the sand, leadingto a particular building.     Michaelson said, This is where you live?     Yes.     Maota went inside. Michaelson stood in the entrance and looked around.The room was clean, furnished with hand made chairs and a bed. Who isthis old man, he thought, far from his people, living alone, choosinga life of solitude among ancient ruins but not touching them? Abovethe bed a clock was fastened to the wall, Michaelson remembered hisfright—thinking of the warmth where warmth should not be.     Maota pointed to it.     You asked about this machine, he said. Now I will tell you. He laidhis hand against it. Here is power to follow another direction.  <doc-sep>No! Maota's thought was prickled with fear and anger.     Michaelson did not know how to try, but he remembered the cylinder andgathered all the force of his mind in spite of Maota's protests, andgave his most violent command.     At first he thought it didn't work. He got up and looked around, thenit struck him.      He was standing up!       The cylinder. He knew it was the cylinder. That was the differencebetween himself and Maota. When he used the cylinder, that was wherehe went, the place where Maota was now. It was a door of some kind,leading to a path of some kind where distance was non-existent. But theclock was a mechanism to transport only the mind to that place.     To be certain of it, he pressed the button again, with the same resultas before. He saw his own body fall down. He felt Maota's presence.     You devil! Maota's thought-scream was a sword of hate and anger,irrational suddenly, like a person who knows his loss is irrevocable.I said you were a god. I said you were a god.      I said you were agod...!        <doc-sep>The native stood in the street less than a hundred feet away, wavinghis arms madly. Mr. Earthgod, he cried. It is sacred ground whereyou are trespassing!     The archeologist smiled, watching the man hurry closer. He was short,even for a native. Long gray hair hung to his shoulders, bobbing upand down as he walked. He wore no shoes. The toes of his webbed feetdragged in the sand, making a deep trail behind him. He was an old man.     You never told us about this old dead city, Michaelson said,chidingly. Shame on you. But never mind. I've found it now. Isn't itbeautiful?     Yes, beautiful. You will leave now.     Leave? Michaelson asked, acting surprised as if the man were achild. I just got here a few hours ago.     You must go.     Why? Who are you?     I am keeper of the city.     You? Michaelson laughed. Then, seeing how serious the native was,said, What makes you think a dead city needs a keeper?     The spirits may return.     Michaelson crawled out of the doorway and stood up. He brushed histrousers. He pointed. See that wall? Built of some metal, I'd say,some alloy impervious to rust and wear.     The spirits are angry.     Notice the inscriptions? Wind has blown sand against them for eons,and rain and sleet. But their story is there, once we decipher it.     Leave!     The native's lined, weathered old face was working around the mouth inanger. Michaelson was almost sorry he had mocked him. He was deadlyserious.     Look, he said. No spirits are ever coming back here. Don't you knowthat? And even if they did, spirits care nothing for old cities halfcovered with sand and dirt.     He walked away from the old man, heading for another building. Thesun had already gone below the horizon, coloring the high clouds. Heglanced backward. The webfoot was following.     Mr. Earthgod! the webfoot cried, so sharply that Michaelson stopped.You must not touch, not walk upon, not handle. Your step may destroythe home of some ancient spirit. Your breath may cause one iota ofchange and a spirit may lose his way in the darkness. Go quickly now,or be killed.  <doc-sep>   A CITY NEAR CENTAURUS     By BILL DOEDE     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        The city was sacred, but not to its gods.       Michaelson was a god—but far from sacred!        Crouched in the ancient doorway like an animal peering out from hisburrow, Mr. Michaelson saw the native.     At first he was startled, thinking it might be someone else from theEarth settlement who had discovered the old city before him. Then hesaw the glint of sun against the metallic skirt, and relaxed.     He chuckled to himself, wondering with amusement what a webfooted manwas doing in an old dead city so far from his people. Some facts wereknown about the people of Alpha Centaurus II. They were not actuallynatives, he recalled. They were a colony from the fifth planet ofthe system. They were a curious people. Some were highly intelligent,though uneducated.     He decided to ignore the man for the moment. He was far down theancient street, a mere speck against the sand. There would be plenty oftime to wonder about him.     He gazed out from his position at the complex variety of buildingsbefore him. Some were small, obviously homes. Others were hugewith tall, frail spires standing against the pale blue sky. Squarebuildings, ellipsoid, spheroid. Beautiful, dream-stuff bridgesconnected tall, conical towers, bridges that still swung in the windafter half a million years. Late afternoon sunlight shone against ebonysurfaces. The sands of many centuries had blown down the wide streetsand filled the doorways. Desert plants grew from roofs of smallerbuildings.     Ignoring the native, Mr. Michaelson poked about among the ruinshappily, exclaiming to himself about some particular artifact,marveling at its state of preservation, holding it this way and that tocatch the late afternoon sun, smiling, clucking gleefully. He crawledover the rubble through old doorways half filled with the accumulationof ages. He dug experimentally in the sand with his hands, like a dog,under a roof that had weathered half a million years of rain and sun.Then he crawled out again, covered with dust and cobwebs.  <doc-sep>Michaelson tested one of the chairs to see if it would hold his weight,then sat down. His curiosity about the instrument was colossal, but heforced a short laugh. Maota, you      are     complex. Why not stop all thismystery nonsense and tell me about it? You know more about it than I.     Of course. Maota smiled a toothless, superior smile. What do yousuppose happened to this race?     You tell me.     They took the unknown direction. The books speak of it. I don't knowhow the instrument works, but one thing is certain. The race did notdie out, as a species becomes extinct.     Michaelson was amused, but interested. Something like a fourthdimension?     I don't know. I only know that with this instrument there is no death.I have read the books that speak of this race, this wonderful peoplewho conquered all disease, who explored all the mysteries of science,who devised this machine to cheat death. See this button here on theface of the instrument? Press the button, and....     And what?     I don't know, exactly. But I have lived many years. I have walked thestreets of this city and wondered, and wanted to press the button. NowI will do so.     Quickly the old man, still smiling, pressed the button. A high-pitchedwhine filled the air, just within audio range. Steady for a moment, itthen rose in pitch passing beyond hearing quickly.     The old man's knees buckled. He sank down, fell over the bed, laystill. Michaelson touched him cautiously, then examined him morecarefully. No question about it.     The old man was dead.  <doc-sep>You are sensitive, the native said in his ear. It takes a sensitivegod to feel the spirits moving in the houses and walking in these oldstreets.     Say it any way you want to. This is the most fascinating thingI've ever seen. The Inca's treasure, the ruins of Pompeii, Egyptiantombs—none can hold a candle to this.     Mr. Earthgod....     Don't call me that. I'm not a god, and you know it.     The old man shrugged. It is not an item worthy of dispute. Those namesyou mention, are they the names of gods?     He chuckled. In a way, yes. What is your name?     Maota.     You must help me, Maota. These things must be preserved. We'll builda museum, right here in the street. No, over there on the hill justoutside the city. We'll collect all the old writings and perhaps we maydecipher them. Think of it, Maota! To read pages written so long agoand think their thoughts. We'll put everything under glass. Build andevacuate chambers to stop the decay. Catalogue, itemize....     Michaelson was warming up to his subject, but Maota shook his head likea waving palm frond and stamped his feet.     You will leave now.     Can't you see? Look at the decay. These things are priceless. Theymust be preserved. Future generations will thank us.     Do you mean, the old man asked, aghast, that you want others to comehere? You know the city abhors the sound of alien voices. Those wholived here may return one day! They must not find their city packagedand preserved and laid out on shelves for the curious to breathe theirfoul breaths upon. You will leave. Now!     No. Michaelson was adamant. The rock of Gibraltar.     Maota hit him, quickly, passionately, and dropped the weapon beside hisbody. He turned swiftly, making a swirling mark in the sand with hisheel, and walked off toward the hills outside the city.     The weapon he had used was an ancient book. Its paper-thin pagesrustled in the wind as if an unseen hand turned them, reading, whileMichaelson's blood trickled out from the head wound upon the ancientstreet.  <doc-sep>Old Maota read, Michaelson listened. The cadence was different, thesyntax confusing. But the thoughts were there. It might have beena professor back on Earth reading to his students. Keats, Shelley,Browning. These people were human, with human thoughts and aspirations.     The old man stopped reading. He squatted slowly, keeping Michaelson insight, and laid the book face up in the sand. Wind moved the pages.     See? he said. The spirits read. They must have been great readers,these people. They drink the book, as if it were an elixir. See howgentle! They lap at the pages like a new kitten tasting milk.     Michaelson laughed. You certainly have an imagination.     What difference does it make? Maota cried, suddenly angry. You wantto close up all these things in boxes for a posterity who may have noslightest feeling or appreciation. I want to leave the city as it is,for spirits whose existence I cannot prove.     The old man's eyes were furious now, deadly. The gun came down directlyin line with the Earthman's chest. The gnarled finger moved.     Michaelson, using the power of the cylinder behind his ear, jumpedbehind the old webfoot. To Maota it seemed that he had flicked out ofexistence like a match blown out. The next instant Michaelson spunhim around and hit him. It was an inexpert fist, belonging to anarcheologist, not a fighter. But Maota was an old man.     He dropped in the sand, momentarily stunned. Michaelson bent over topick up the gun and the old man, feeling it slip from his fingers,hung on and was pulled to his feet.     They struggled for possession of the gun, silently, gasping, kickingsand. Faces grew red. Lips drew back over Michaelson's white teeth,over Maota's pink, toothless gums. The dead city's fragile spires threwimpersonal shadows down where they fought.     Then quite suddenly a finger or hand—neither knew whose finger orhand—touched the firing stud.     There was a hollow, whooshing sound. Both stopped still, realizing thetotal destruction they might have caused.     It only hit the ground, Michaelson said.     A black, charred hole, two feet in diameter and—they could not see howdeep—stared at them.     Maota let go and sprawled in the sand. The book! he cried. The bookis gone!     No! We probably covered it with sand while we fought.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What kind of person is Mr. Michaelson and can you tell me more about him?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What kind of personality does the webfoot have and who is he in A City Near Centaurus? [SEP] <s>   A CITY NEAR CENTAURUS     By BILL DOEDE     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        The city was sacred, but not to its gods.       Michaelson was a god—but far from sacred!        Crouched in the ancient doorway like an animal peering out from hisburrow, Mr. Michaelson saw the native.     At first he was startled, thinking it might be someone else from theEarth settlement who had discovered the old city before him. Then hesaw the glint of sun against the metallic skirt, and relaxed.     He chuckled to himself, wondering with amusement what a webfooted manwas doing in an old dead city so far from his people. Some facts wereknown about the people of Alpha Centaurus II. They were not actuallynatives, he recalled. They were a colony from the fifth planet ofthe system. They were a curious people. Some were highly intelligent,though uneducated.     He decided to ignore the man for the moment. He was far down theancient street, a mere speck against the sand. There would be plenty oftime to wonder about him.     He gazed out from his position at the complex variety of buildingsbefore him. Some were small, obviously homes. Others were hugewith tall, frail spires standing against the pale blue sky. Squarebuildings, ellipsoid, spheroid. Beautiful, dream-stuff bridgesconnected tall, conical towers, bridges that still swung in the windafter half a million years. Late afternoon sunlight shone against ebonysurfaces. The sands of many centuries had blown down the wide streetsand filled the doorways. Desert plants grew from roofs of smallerbuildings.     Ignoring the native, Mr. Michaelson poked about among the ruinshappily, exclaiming to himself about some particular artifact,marveling at its state of preservation, holding it this way and that tocatch the late afternoon sun, smiling, clucking gleefully. He crawledover the rubble through old doorways half filled with the accumulationof ages. He dug experimentally in the sand with his hands, like a dog,under a roof that had weathered half a million years of rain and sun.Then he crawled out again, covered with dust and cobwebs.  <doc-sep>He turned and walked off, not looking back.     Michaelson stood in the ancient street, tall, gaunt, feet planted wide,hands in pockets, watching the webfoot until he was out of sight beyonda huge circular building. There was a man to watch. There was one ofthe intelligent ones. One look into the alert old eyes had told himthat.     Michaelson shook his head, and went about satisfying his curiosity.He entered buildings without thought of roofs falling in, or decayedfloors dropping from under his weight. He began to collect small items,making a pile of them in the street. An ancient bowl, metal untouchedby the ages. A statue of a man, one foot high, correct to the minutestdetail, showing how identical they had been to Earthmen. He found booksstill standing on ancient shelves but was afraid to touch them withouttools.     Darkness came swiftly and he was forced out into the street.     He stood there alone feeling the age of the place. Even the smellof age was in the air. Silver moonlight from the two moons filteredthrough clear air down upon the ruins. The city lay now in darkness,dead and still, waiting for morning so it could lie dead and still inthe sun.     There was no hurry to be going home, although he was alone, althoughthis was Alpha Centaurus II with many unknowns, many dangers ...although home was a very great distance away. There was no one backthere to worry about him.     His wife had died many years ago back on Earth. No children. Hisfriends in the settlement would not look for him for another day atleast. Anyway, the tiny cylinder, buried in flesh behind his ear, athing of mystery and immense power, could take him home instantly,without effort save a flicker of thought.     You did not leave, as I asked you.     Michaelson whirled around at the sound of the native's voice. Then herelaxed. He said, You shouldn't sneak up on a man like that.     You must leave, or I will be forced to kill you. I do not want to killyou, but if I must.... He made a clucking sound deep in the throat.The spirits are angry.     Nonsense. Superstition! But never mind. You have been here longerthan I. Tell me, what are those instruments in the rooms? It looks likea clock but I'm certain it had some other function.     What rooms?     Oh, come now. The small rooms back there. Look like they werebedrooms.     I do not know. The webfoot drew closer. Michaelson decided he wassixty or seventy years old, at least.     You've been here a long time. You are intelligent, and you must beeducated, the way you talk. That gadget looks like a time-piece of somesort. What is it? What does it measure?     I insist that you go. The webfoot held something in his hand.     No. Michaelson looked off down the street, trying to ignore thenative, trying to feel the life of the city as it might have been.  <doc-sep>The native stood in the street less than a hundred feet away, wavinghis arms madly. Mr. Earthgod, he cried. It is sacred ground whereyou are trespassing!     The archeologist smiled, watching the man hurry closer. He was short,even for a native. Long gray hair hung to his shoulders, bobbing upand down as he walked. He wore no shoes. The toes of his webbed feetdragged in the sand, making a deep trail behind him. He was an old man.     You never told us about this old dead city, Michaelson said,chidingly. Shame on you. But never mind. I've found it now. Isn't itbeautiful?     Yes, beautiful. You will leave now.     Leave? Michaelson asked, acting surprised as if the man were achild. I just got here a few hours ago.     You must go.     Why? Who are you?     I am keeper of the city.     You? Michaelson laughed. Then, seeing how serious the native was,said, What makes you think a dead city needs a keeper?     The spirits may return.     Michaelson crawled out of the doorway and stood up. He brushed histrousers. He pointed. See that wall? Built of some metal, I'd say,some alloy impervious to rust and wear.     The spirits are angry.     Notice the inscriptions? Wind has blown sand against them for eons,and rain and sleet. But their story is there, once we decipher it.     Leave!     The native's lined, weathered old face was working around the mouth inanger. Michaelson was almost sorry he had mocked him. He was deadlyserious.     Look, he said. No spirits are ever coming back here. Don't you knowthat? And even if they did, spirits care nothing for old cities halfcovered with sand and dirt.     He walked away from the old man, heading for another building. Thesun had already gone below the horizon, coloring the high clouds. Heglanced backward. The webfoot was following.     Mr. Earthgod! the webfoot cried, so sharply that Michaelson stopped.You must not touch, not walk upon, not handle. Your step may destroythe home of some ancient spirit. Your breath may cause one iota ofchange and a spirit may lose his way in the darkness. Go quickly now,or be killed.  <doc-sep>When he regained consciousness the two moons, bright sentinel orbs inthe night sky, had moved to a new position down their sliding path. OldMaota's absence took some of the weirdness and fantasy away. It seemeda more practical place now.     The gash in his head was painful, throbbing with quick, shorthammer-blows synchronized with his heart beats. But there was a newdetermination in him. If it was a fight that the old webfooted foolwanted, a fight he would get. The cylinder flicked him, at his command,across five hundred miles of desert and rocks to a small creek heremembered. Here he bathed his head in cool water until all the cakedblood was dissolved from his hair. Feeling better, he went back.     The wind had turned cool. Michaelson shivered, wishing he had broughta coat. The city was absolutely still except for small gusts of windsighing through the frail spires. The ancient book still lay in thesand beside the dark spot of blood. He stooped over and picked it up.     It was light, much lighter than most Earth books. He ran a hand overthe binding. Smooth it was, untouched by time or climate. He squintedat the pages, tilting the book to catch the bright moonlight, but thewriting was alien. He touched the page, ran his forefinger over thewriting.     Suddenly he sprang back. The book fell from his hands.     God in heaven! he exclaimed.     He had heard a voice. He looked around at the old buildings, down thelength of the ancient street. Something strange about the voice. NotMaota. Not his tones. Not his words. Satisfied that no one was near, hestooped and picked up the book again.     Good God! he said aloud. It was the book talking. His fingers hadtouched the writing again. It was not a voice, exactly, but a stirringin his mind, like a strange language heard for the first time.     A talking book. What other surprises were in the city? Tall,fragile buildings laughing at time and weather. A clock measuringGod-knows-what. If such wonders remained, what about those alreadydestroyed? One could only guess at the machines, the gadgets, theartistry already decayed and blown away to mix forever with the sand.     I must preserve it, he thought, whether Maota likes it or not. Theysay these people lived half a million years ago. A long time. Let'ssee, now. A man lives one hundred years on the average. Five thousandlifetimes.     And all you do is touch a book, and a voice jumps across all thoseyears!     He started off toward the tall building he had examined upon discoveryof the city. His left eyelid began to twitch and he laid his forefingeragainst the eye, pressing until it stopped. Then he stooped and enteredthe building. He laid the book down and tried to take the clockoff the wall. It was dark in the building and his fingers felt alongthe wall, looking for it. Then he touched it. His fingers moved overits smooth surface. Then suddenly he jerked his hand back with anexclamation of amazement. Fear ran up his spine.       The clock was warm.       He felt like running, like flicking back to the settlement where therewere people and familiar voices, for here was a thing that should notbe. Half a million years—and here was warmth!     He touched it again, curiosity overwhelming his fear. It was warm. Nomistake. And there was a faint vibration, a suggestion of power. Hestood there in the darkness staring off into the darkness, trembling.Fear built up in him until it was a monstrous thing, drowning reason.He forgot the power of the cylinder behind his ear. He scrambledthrough the doorway. He got up and ran down the ancient sandy streetuntil he came to the edge of the city. Here he stopped, gasping forair, feeling the pain throb in his head.     Common sense said that he should go home, that nothing worthwhile couldbe accomplished at night, that he was tired, that he was weak from lossof blood and fright and running. But when Michaelson was on the trailof important discoveries he had no common sense.     He sat down in the darkness, meaning to rest a moment.  <doc-sep>Old Maota read, Michaelson listened. The cadence was different, thesyntax confusing. But the thoughts were there. It might have beena professor back on Earth reading to his students. Keats, Shelley,Browning. These people were human, with human thoughts and aspirations.     The old man stopped reading. He squatted slowly, keeping Michaelson insight, and laid the book face up in the sand. Wind moved the pages.     See? he said. The spirits read. They must have been great readers,these people. They drink the book, as if it were an elixir. See howgentle! They lap at the pages like a new kitten tasting milk.     Michaelson laughed. You certainly have an imagination.     What difference does it make? Maota cried, suddenly angry. You wantto close up all these things in boxes for a posterity who may have noslightest feeling or appreciation. I want to leave the city as it is,for spirits whose existence I cannot prove.     The old man's eyes were furious now, deadly. The gun came down directlyin line with the Earthman's chest. The gnarled finger moved.     Michaelson, using the power of the cylinder behind his ear, jumpedbehind the old webfoot. To Maota it seemed that he had flicked out ofexistence like a match blown out. The next instant Michaelson spunhim around and hit him. It was an inexpert fist, belonging to anarcheologist, not a fighter. But Maota was an old man.     He dropped in the sand, momentarily stunned. Michaelson bent over topick up the gun and the old man, feeling it slip from his fingers,hung on and was pulled to his feet.     They struggled for possession of the gun, silently, gasping, kickingsand. Faces grew red. Lips drew back over Michaelson's white teeth,over Maota's pink, toothless gums. The dead city's fragile spires threwimpersonal shadows down where they fought.     Then quite suddenly a finger or hand—neither knew whose finger orhand—touched the firing stud.     There was a hollow, whooshing sound. Both stopped still, realizing thetotal destruction they might have caused.     It only hit the ground, Michaelson said.     A black, charred hole, two feet in diameter and—they could not see howdeep—stared at them.     Maota let go and sprawled in the sand. The book! he cried. The bookis gone!     No! We probably covered it with sand while we fought.  <doc-sep>   DELAY IN TRANSIT     By F. L. WALLACE     Illustrated by SIBLEY     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        An unprovoked, meaningless night attack is       terrifying enough on your own home planet, worse       on a world across the Galaxy. But the horror       is the offer of help that cannot be accepted!        Muscles tense, said Dimanche. Neural index 1.76, unusually high.Adrenalin squirting through his system. In effect, he's stalking you.Intent: probably assault with a deadly weapon.     Not interested, said Cassal firmly, his subvocalization inaudibleto anyone but Dimanche. I'm not the victim type. He was standing onthe walkway near the brink of the thoroughfare. I'm going back to thehabitat hotel and sit tight.     First you have to get there, Dimanche pointed out. I mean, is itsafe for a stranger to walk through the city?     Now that you mention it, no, answered Cassal. He looked aroundapprehensively. Where is he?       Behind you. At the moment he's pretending interest in a merchandisedisplay.     A native stamped by, eyes brown and incurious. Apparently he wasaccustomed to the sight of an Earthman standing alone, Adam's applebobbing up and down silently. It was a Godolphian axiom that alltravelers were crazy.     Cassal looked up. Not an air taxi in sight; Godolph shut down at dusk.It would be pure luck if he found a taxi before morning. Of course he      could     walk back to the hotel, but was that such a good idea?     A Godolphian city was peculiar. And, though not intended, it waspeculiarly suited to certain kinds of violence. A human pedestrian wasat a definite disadvantage.     Correction, said Dimanche. Not simple assault. He has murder inmind.     It still doesn't appeal to me, said Cassal. Striving to lookunconcerned, he strolled toward the building side of the walkway andstared into the interior of a small cafe. Warm, bright and dry. Inside,he might find safety for a time.     Damn the man who was following him! It would be easy enough to eludehim in a normal city. On Godolph, nothing was normal. In an hour thestreets would be brightly lighted—for native eyes. A human wouldconsider it dim.     Why did he choose me? asked Cassal plaintively. There must besomething he hopes to gain.     I'm working on it, said Dimanche. But remember, I have limitations.At short distances I can scan nervous systems, collect and interpretphysiological data. I can't read minds. The best I can do is reportwhat a person says or subvocalizes. If you're really interested infinding out why he wants to kill you, I suggest you turn the problemover to the godawful police.     Godolph, not godawful, corrected Cassal absently.     That was advice he couldn't follow, good as it seemed. He could givethe police no evidence save through Dimanche. There were variousreasons, many of them involving the law, for leaving the device calledDimanche out of it. The police would act if they found a body. His own,say, floating face-down on some quiet street. That didn't seem theproper approach, either.     Weapons?     The first thing I searched him for. Nothing very dangerous. A longknife, a hard striking object. Both concealed on his person.     Cassal strangled slightly. Dimanche needed a good stiff course insemantics. A knife was still the most silent of weapons. A man coulddie from it. His hand strayed toward his pocket. He had a measure ofprotection himself.     Report, said Dimanche. Not necessarily final. Based, perhaps, ontenuous evidence.     Let's have it anyway.     His motivation is connected somehow with your being marooned here. Forsome reason you can't get off this planet.     That was startling information, though not strictly true. A thousandstar systems were waiting for him, and a ship to take him to each one.     Of course, the one ship he wanted hadn't come in. Godolph was atransfer point for stars nearer the center of the Galaxy. When hehad left Earth, he had known he would have to wait a few days here.He hadn't expected a delay of nearly three weeks. Still, it wasn'tunusual. Interstellar schedules over great distances were not asreliable as they might be.     Was this man, whoever and whatever he might be, connected withthat delay? According to Dimanche, the man thought he was. He wasself-deluded or did he have access to information that Cassal didn't?  <doc-sep>  Jinx Ship To The Rescue     By ALFRED COPPEL, JR.     Stand by for      T.R.S. Aphrodite     , butt of the Space     Navy. She's got something terrific in her guts and only     her ice-cold lady engineer can coax it out of her!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Winter 1948.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Brevet Lieutenant Commander David Farragut Strykalski III of theTellurian Wing, Combined Solarian Navies, stood ankle deep in theviscous mud of Venusport Base and surveyed his new command with ajaundiced eye. The hot, slimy, greenish rain that drenched Venusportfor two-thirds of the 720-hour day had stopped at last, but now amiasmic fog was rising from the surrounding swampland, rolling acrossthe mushy landing ramp toward the grounded spaceship. Visibility wasdropping fast, and soon porto-sonar sets would have to be used to findthe way about the surface Base. It was an ordinary day on Venus.     Strike cursed Space Admiral Gorman and all his ancestors with a wealthof feeling. Then he motioned wearily to his companion, and togetherthey sloshed through the mud toward the ancient monitor.     The scaly bulk of the Tellurian Rocket Ship      Aphrodite     loomedunhappily into the thick air above the two men as they reached theventral valve. Strike raised reluctant eyes to the sloping flank of thefat spaceship.     It looks, he commented bitterly, like a pregnant carp.     Senior Lieutenant Coburn Whitley—Cob to his friends—nodded inagreement. That's our Lover-Girl ... old Aphrodisiac herself. The shipwith the poison personality. Cob was the      Aphrodite's     Executive,and he had been with her a full year ... which was a record for Execson the      Aphrodite     . She generally sent them Earthside with nervousbreakdowns in half that time.     Tell me, Captain, continued Cob curiously, how does it happenthat you of all people happened to draw this tub for a command? Ithought....     You know Gorman? queried Strykalski.     Cob nodded. Oh, yes. Yes, indeed. Old Brass-bottom Gorman?     The same.     Well, Cob ran a hand over his chin speculatively, I know Gorman'sa prize stinker ... but you were in command of the      Ganymede     . And,after all, you come from an old service family and all that. How comethis? He indicated the monitor expressively.     Strike sighed. Well, now, Cob, I'll tell you. You'll be spacing withme and I guess you've a right to know the worst ... not that youwouldn't find it out anyway. I come from a long line of very sharpoperators. Seven generations of officers and gentlemen. Lousy withtradition.     The first David Farragut Strykalski, son of a sea-loving Polishimmigrant, emerged from World War II a four-striper and CongressionalMedal winner. Then came David Farragut Strykalski, Jr., and, in theabortive Atomic War that terrified the world in 1961, he won a UnitedNations Peace Citation. And then came David Farragut Strykalski III ...me.     From such humble beginnings do great traditions grow. But somethinghappened when I came into the picture. I don't fit with the rest ofthem. Call it luck or temperament or what have you.     In the first place I seem to have an uncanny talent for saying thewrong thing to the wrong person. Gorman for example. And I take toomuch on my own initiative. Gorman doesn't like that. I lost the      Ganymede     because I left my station where I was supposed to be runningsection-lines to take on a bunch of colonists I thought were indanger....     The Procyon A people? asked Cob.     So you've heard about it. Strike shook his head sadly. My tacticalastrophysicist warned me that Procyon A might go nova. I left myroutine post and loaded up on colonists. He shrugged. Wrong guess. Nonova. I made an ass of myself and lost the      Ganymede     . Gorman gave itto his former aide. I got this.     Cob coughed slightly. I heard something about Ley City, too.     Me again. The      Ganymede's     whole crew ended up in the Luna Base brig.We celebrated a bit too freely.     Cob Whitley looked admiringly at his new Commander. That was the nightafter the      Ganymede     broke the record for the Centaurus B-Earth run,wasn't it? And then wasn't there something about....     Canalopolis?     Whitley nodded.     That time I called the Martian Ambassador a spy. It was at a TellurianEmbassy Ball.     I begin to see what you mean, Captain.     Strike's the name, Cob.     Whitley's smile was expansive. Strike, I think you're going to likeour old tin pot here. He patted the      Aphrodite's     nether bellyaffectionately. She's old ... but she's loose. And we're not likely tomeet any Ambassadors or Admirals with her, either.     Strykalski sighed, still thinking of his sleek      Ganymede     . She'llcarry the mail, I suppose. And that's about all that's expected of her.     Cob shrugged philosophically. Better than tanking that stinking rocketfuel, anyway. Deep space?     Strike shook his head. Venus-Mars.     Cob scratched his chin speculatively. Perihelion run. Hot work.     Strike was again looking at the spaceship's unprepossessing exterior.A surge-circuit monitor, so help me.     Cob nodded agreement. The last of her class.  <doc-sep>Name? the cop with the notebook murmured.     Loyce. He mopped his forehead wearily. Edward C. Loyce. Listen to me.Back there—     Address? the cop demanded. The police car moved swiftly throughtraffic, shooting among the cars and buses. Loyce sagged against theseat, exhausted and confused. He took a deep shuddering breath.     1368 Hurst Road.     That's here in Pikeville?     That's right. Loyce pulled himself up with a violent effort. Listento me. Back there. In the square. Hanging from the lamppost—     Where were you today? the cop behind the wheel demanded.     Where? Loyce echoed.     You weren't in your shop, were you?     No. He shook his head. No, I was home. Down in the basement.     In the      basement     ?     Digging. A new foundation. Getting out the dirt to pour a cement frame.Why? What has that to do with—     Was anybody else down there with you?     No. My wife was downtown. My kids were at school. Loyce looked fromone heavy-set cop to the other. Hope flicked across his face, wild hope.You mean because I was down there I missed—the explanation? I didn'tget in on it? Like everybody else?     After a pause the cop with the notebook said: That's right. You missedthe explanation.     Then it's official? The body—it's      supposed     to be hanging there?     It's supposed to be hanging there. For everybody to see.     Ed Loyce grinned weakly. Good Lord. I guess I sort of went off the deepend. I thought maybe something had happened. You know, something likethe Ku Klux Klan. Some kind of violence. Communists or Fascists takingover. He wiped his face with his breast-pocket handkerchief, his handsshaking. I'm glad to know it's on the level.     It's on the level. The police car was getting near the Hall ofJustice. The sun had set. The streets were gloomy and dark. The lightshad not yet come on.     I feel better, Loyce said. I was pretty excited there, for a minute.I guess I got all stirred up. Now that I understand, there's no need totake me in, is there?     The two cops said nothing.     I should be back at my store. The boys haven't had dinner. I'm allright, now. No more trouble. Is there any need of—     This won't take long, the cop behind the wheel interrupted. A shortprocess. Only a few minutes.     I hope it's short, Loyce muttered. The car slowed down for astoplight. I guess I sort of disturbed the peace. Funny, gettingexcited like that and—     Loyce yanked the door open. He sprawled out into the street and rolledto his feet. Cars were moving all around him, gaining speed as the lightchanged. Loyce leaped onto the curb and raced among the people,burrowing into the swarming crowds. Behind him he heard sounds, shouts,people running.     They weren't cops. He had realized that right away. He knew every cop inPikeville. A man couldn't own a store, operate a business in a smalltown for twenty-five years without getting to know all the cops.     They weren't cops—and there hadn't been any explanation. Potter,Fergusson, Jenkins, none of them knew why it was there. They didn'tknow—and they didn't care.      That     was the strange part.     Loyce ducked into a hardware store. He raced toward the back, past thestartled clerks and customers, into the shipping room and through theback door. He tripped over a garbage can and ran up a flight of concretesteps. He climbed over a fence and jumped down on the other side,gasping and panting.     There was no sound behind him. He had got away.     He was at the entrance of an alley, dark and strewn with boards andruined boxes and tires. He could see the street at the far end. A streetlight wavered and came on. Men and women. Stores. Neon signs. Cars.     And to his right—the police station.     He was close, terribly close. Past the loading platform of a grocerystore rose the white concrete side of the Hall of Justice. Barredwindows. The police antenna. A great concrete wall rising up in thedarkness. A bad place for him to be near. He was too close. He had tokeep moving, get farther away from them.       Them?       Loyce moved cautiously down the alley. Beyond the police station was theCity Hall, the old-fashioned yellow structure of wood and gilded brassand broad cement steps. He could see the endless rows of offices, darkwindows, the cedars and beds of flowers on each side of the entrance.     And—something else.     Above the City Hall was a patch of darkness, a cone of gloom denser thanthe surrounding night. A prism of black that spread out and was lostinto the sky.     He listened. Good God, he could hear something. Something that made himstruggle frantically to close his ears, his mind, to shut out the sound.A buzzing. A distant, muted hum like a great swarm of bees.     Loyce gazed up, rigid with horror. The splotch of darkness, hanging overthe City Hall. Darkness so thick it seemed almost solid.      In the vortexsomething moved.     Flickering shapes. Things, descending from the sky,pausing momentarily above the City Hall, fluttering over it in a denseswarm and then dropping silently onto the roof.     Shapes. Fluttering shapes from the sky. From the crack of darkness thathung above him.     He was seeing—them.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What kind of personality does the webfoot have and who is he in A City Near Centaurus?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the significance of the cylinder in the story ""A City Near Centaurus""? [SEP] <s>   A CITY NEAR CENTAURUS     By BILL DOEDE     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        The city was sacred, but not to its gods.       Michaelson was a god—but far from sacred!        Crouched in the ancient doorway like an animal peering out from hisburrow, Mr. Michaelson saw the native.     At first he was startled, thinking it might be someone else from theEarth settlement who had discovered the old city before him. Then hesaw the glint of sun against the metallic skirt, and relaxed.     He chuckled to himself, wondering with amusement what a webfooted manwas doing in an old dead city so far from his people. Some facts wereknown about the people of Alpha Centaurus II. They were not actuallynatives, he recalled. They were a colony from the fifth planet ofthe system. They were a curious people. Some were highly intelligent,though uneducated.     He decided to ignore the man for the moment. He was far down theancient street, a mere speck against the sand. There would be plenty oftime to wonder about him.     He gazed out from his position at the complex variety of buildingsbefore him. Some were small, obviously homes. Others were hugewith tall, frail spires standing against the pale blue sky. Squarebuildings, ellipsoid, spheroid. Beautiful, dream-stuff bridgesconnected tall, conical towers, bridges that still swung in the windafter half a million years. Late afternoon sunlight shone against ebonysurfaces. The sands of many centuries had blown down the wide streetsand filled the doorways. Desert plants grew from roofs of smallerbuildings.     Ignoring the native, Mr. Michaelson poked about among the ruinshappily, exclaiming to himself about some particular artifact,marveling at its state of preservation, holding it this way and that tocatch the late afternoon sun, smiling, clucking gleefully. He crawledover the rubble through old doorways half filled with the accumulationof ages. He dug experimentally in the sand with his hands, like a dog,under a roof that had weathered half a million years of rain and sun.Then he crawled out again, covered with dust and cobwebs.  <doc-sep>He turned and walked off, not looking back.     Michaelson stood in the ancient street, tall, gaunt, feet planted wide,hands in pockets, watching the webfoot until he was out of sight beyonda huge circular building. There was a man to watch. There was one ofthe intelligent ones. One look into the alert old eyes had told himthat.     Michaelson shook his head, and went about satisfying his curiosity.He entered buildings without thought of roofs falling in, or decayedfloors dropping from under his weight. He began to collect small items,making a pile of them in the street. An ancient bowl, metal untouchedby the ages. A statue of a man, one foot high, correct to the minutestdetail, showing how identical they had been to Earthmen. He found booksstill standing on ancient shelves but was afraid to touch them withouttools.     Darkness came swiftly and he was forced out into the street.     He stood there alone feeling the age of the place. Even the smellof age was in the air. Silver moonlight from the two moons filteredthrough clear air down upon the ruins. The city lay now in darkness,dead and still, waiting for morning so it could lie dead and still inthe sun.     There was no hurry to be going home, although he was alone, althoughthis was Alpha Centaurus II with many unknowns, many dangers ...although home was a very great distance away. There was no one backthere to worry about him.     His wife had died many years ago back on Earth. No children. Hisfriends in the settlement would not look for him for another day atleast. Anyway, the tiny cylinder, buried in flesh behind his ear, athing of mystery and immense power, could take him home instantly,without effort save a flicker of thought.     You did not leave, as I asked you.     Michaelson whirled around at the sound of the native's voice. Then herelaxed. He said, You shouldn't sneak up on a man like that.     You must leave, or I will be forced to kill you. I do not want to killyou, but if I must.... He made a clucking sound deep in the throat.The spirits are angry.     Nonsense. Superstition! But never mind. You have been here longerthan I. Tell me, what are those instruments in the rooms? It looks likea clock but I'm certain it had some other function.     What rooms?     Oh, come now. The small rooms back there. Look like they werebedrooms.     I do not know. The webfoot drew closer. Michaelson decided he wassixty or seventy years old, at least.     You've been here a long time. You are intelligent, and you must beeducated, the way you talk. That gadget looks like a time-piece of somesort. What is it? What does it measure?     I insist that you go. The webfoot held something in his hand.     No. Michaelson looked off down the street, trying to ignore thenative, trying to feel the life of the city as it might have been.  <doc-sep>When he regained consciousness the two moons, bright sentinel orbs inthe night sky, had moved to a new position down their sliding path. OldMaota's absence took some of the weirdness and fantasy away. It seemeda more practical place now.     The gash in his head was painful, throbbing with quick, shorthammer-blows synchronized with his heart beats. But there was a newdetermination in him. If it was a fight that the old webfooted foolwanted, a fight he would get. The cylinder flicked him, at his command,across five hundred miles of desert and rocks to a small creek heremembered. Here he bathed his head in cool water until all the cakedblood was dissolved from his hair. Feeling better, he went back.     The wind had turned cool. Michaelson shivered, wishing he had broughta coat. The city was absolutely still except for small gusts of windsighing through the frail spires. The ancient book still lay in thesand beside the dark spot of blood. He stooped over and picked it up.     It was light, much lighter than most Earth books. He ran a hand overthe binding. Smooth it was, untouched by time or climate. He squintedat the pages, tilting the book to catch the bright moonlight, but thewriting was alien. He touched the page, ran his forefinger over thewriting.     Suddenly he sprang back. The book fell from his hands.     God in heaven! he exclaimed.     He had heard a voice. He looked around at the old buildings, down thelength of the ancient street. Something strange about the voice. NotMaota. Not his tones. Not his words. Satisfied that no one was near, hestooped and picked up the book again.     Good God! he said aloud. It was the book talking. His fingers hadtouched the writing again. It was not a voice, exactly, but a stirringin his mind, like a strange language heard for the first time.     A talking book. What other surprises were in the city? Tall,fragile buildings laughing at time and weather. A clock measuringGod-knows-what. If such wonders remained, what about those alreadydestroyed? One could only guess at the machines, the gadgets, theartistry already decayed and blown away to mix forever with the sand.     I must preserve it, he thought, whether Maota likes it or not. Theysay these people lived half a million years ago. A long time. Let'ssee, now. A man lives one hundred years on the average. Five thousandlifetimes.     And all you do is touch a book, and a voice jumps across all thoseyears!     He started off toward the tall building he had examined upon discoveryof the city. His left eyelid began to twitch and he laid his forefingeragainst the eye, pressing until it stopped. Then he stooped and enteredthe building. He laid the book down and tried to take the clockoff the wall. It was dark in the building and his fingers felt alongthe wall, looking for it. Then he touched it. His fingers moved overits smooth surface. Then suddenly he jerked his hand back with anexclamation of amazement. Fear ran up his spine.       The clock was warm.       He felt like running, like flicking back to the settlement where therewere people and familiar voices, for here was a thing that should notbe. Half a million years—and here was warmth!     He touched it again, curiosity overwhelming his fear. It was warm. Nomistake. And there was a faint vibration, a suggestion of power. Hestood there in the darkness staring off into the darkness, trembling.Fear built up in him until it was a monstrous thing, drowning reason.He forgot the power of the cylinder behind his ear. He scrambledthrough the doorway. He got up and ran down the ancient sandy streetuntil he came to the edge of the city. Here he stopped, gasping forair, feeling the pain throb in his head.     Common sense said that he should go home, that nothing worthwhile couldbe accomplished at night, that he was tired, that he was weak from lossof blood and fright and running. But when Michaelson was on the trailof important discoveries he had no common sense.     He sat down in the darkness, meaning to rest a moment.  <doc-sep>Next morning the door chimes pealed, and you went to the door andbrought back the audiogram. It was addressed to me; I wondered whocould be sending me a message.     I pressed the stud on the little gray cylinder, and a rasping,automatic voice droned: Luna City, Luna, July 27, 1995. Regret toinform you of death of Charles Taggart, Chief Jetman....     Then there was a Latin name which was more polite than the wordlung-rot and the metallic phrase, This message brought to you bycourtesy of United Nations Earth-Luna Communication Corps.     I stood staring at the cylinder.     Charles Taggart was dead.     Charles Taggart was Charlie. Stardust Charlie.     My heart thudded crazily against my chest. It couldn't be! Not Charlie!The audiogram had lied!     I pressed the stud again. ... regret to inform you of death ofCharles ...     I hurled the cylinder at the wall. It thudded, fell, rolled. The brokenvoice droned on.     You ran to it, shut it off. I'm sorry, Ben, so terribly—     Without answering, I walked into my room. I knew it was true now. Iremembered Charlie's coughing, his gaunt features, his drugged gaze.The metallic words had told the truth.     I sat for a long time on my bed, crying inside, but staring dry-eyed atCharlie's faded tin box.     Then, finally, I fingered his meager possessions—a few wrinkledphotos, some letters, a small black statue of a forgotten Martian god,a gold service medal from the Moon Patrol.       This was what remained of Charlie after twenty-five years in space.It was a bitter bargain. A statue instead of a wife, yellowed lettersinstead of children, a medal instead of a home.       It'd be a great future     , I thought.      You'd dream of sitting in a dingystone dive on the Grand Canal with sand-wasps buzzing around smoky,stinking candles. A bottle of luchu juice and a couple of Martian girlswith dirty feet for company. And a sudden cough that would be the firstsign of lung-rot.       To hell with it!     I walked into your living room and called Dean Dawson on the visiphone.     I accepted that job teaching.  <doc-sep>No! Maota's thought was prickled with fear and anger.     Michaelson did not know how to try, but he remembered the cylinder andgathered all the force of his mind in spite of Maota's protests, andgave his most violent command.     At first he thought it didn't work. He got up and looked around, thenit struck him.      He was standing up!       The cylinder. He knew it was the cylinder. That was the differencebetween himself and Maota. When he used the cylinder, that was wherehe went, the place where Maota was now. It was a door of some kind,leading to a path of some kind where distance was non-existent. But theclock was a mechanism to transport only the mind to that place.     To be certain of it, he pressed the button again, with the same resultas before. He saw his own body fall down. He felt Maota's presence.     You devil! Maota's thought-scream was a sword of hate and anger,irrational suddenly, like a person who knows his loss is irrevocable.I said you were a god. I said you were a god.      I said you were agod...!        <doc-sep>  The  cylinder moved so fast Jon felt hiseyes jump in his head. He brought thestubray gun up—but he was helpless. Thepistol kept on going up. With a deft movement,one of the tentacles had speared itfrom his hand and was holding it out ofhis reach.     Jon kicked at the glass in the cylinder'shand. But he was too slow. Two tentaclesgripped the kicking leg. Another struck himin the chest, knocking him to the pallet. Thesame tentacle, assisted by a new one,pinioned his shoulders.     Four tentacles held him supine. The cylinderlifted a glass-like cap from the tumblerof liquid.     Lying there helplessly, Jon was rememberingan old fairy tale he'd read as a kid.Something about a fellow named Socrateswho was given a cup of hemlock to drink.It was the finis for Socrates. But the oldhero had been nonchalant and calm aboutthe whole thing.     With a sigh, Jon Karyl, who was curiousunto death, relaxed and said, All right,bub, you don't have to force-feed me. I'lltake it like a man.     The cylinder apparently understood him,for it handed him the tumbler. It even reholsteredhis stubray pistol.     Jon brought the glass of liquid under hisnose. The fumes of the liquid were pungent.It brought tears to his eyes.     He looked at the cylinder, then at theSteel-Blues crowding around the plasticigloo. He waved the glass at the audience.     To Earth, ever triumphant, he toasted.Then he drained the glass at a gulp.     Its taste was bitter, and he felt hotprickles jab at his scalp. It was like eatingvery hot peppers. His eyes filled with tears.He coughed as the stuff went down.     But he was still alive, he thought inamazement. He'd drunk the hemlock andwas still alive.     The reaction set in quickly. He hadn'tknown until then how tense he'd been. Nowwith the torture ordeal over, he relaxed. Helaid down on the pallet and went to sleep.     There was one lone Steel-Blue watchinghim when he rubbed the sleep out of hiseyes and sat up.     He vanished almost instantly. He, or anotherlike him, returned immediately accompaniedby a half-dozen others, includingthe multi-tentacled creature known as No. 1.     One said,     You are alive. The thought registeredamazement. When you lost consciousness,we thought you had—there was a hesitation—asyou say, died.     No, Jon Karyl said. I didn't die. Iwas just plain dead-beat so I went to sleep.The Steel-Blues apparently didn't understand.     Good it is that you live. The torturewill continue, spoke No. 1 before lopingaway.     The cylinder business began again. Thistime, Jon drank the bitter liquid slowly, tryingto figure out what it was. It had afamiliar, tantalizing taste but he couldn'tquite put a taste-finger on it.     His belly said he was hungry. He glancedat his chronometer. Only 20 days left beforethe SP ship arrived.     Would this torture—he chuckled—lastuntil then? But he was growing more andmore conscious that his belly was screamingfor hunger. The liquid had taken the edgeoff his thirst.     It was on the fifth day of his torture thatJon Karyl decided that he was going to getsomething to eat or perish in the attempt.     The cylinder sat passively in its niche inthe circle. A dozen Steel-Blues were watchingas Jon put on his helmet and unsheathedhis stubray.     They merely watched as he pressed thestubray's firing stud. Invisible rays lickedout of the bulbous muzzle of the pistol.The plastic splintered.     Jon was out of his goldfish bowl andstriding toward his own igloo adjacent tothe service station when a Steel-Blueaccosted him.     Out of my way, grunted Jon, wavingthe stubray. I'm hungry.     I'm the first Steel-Blue you met, saidthe creature who barred his way. Go backto your torture.     But I'm so hungry I'll chew off one ofyour tentacles and eat it without seasoning.     Eat? The Steel-Blue sounded puzzled.     I want to refuel. I've got to have foodto keep my engine going.     Steel-Blue chuckled. So the hemlock, asyou call it, is beginning to affect you atlast? Back to the torture room.     Like R-dust, Jon growled. He pressedthe firing stud on the stubray gun. One ofSteel-Blue's tentacles broke off and fell tothe rocky sward.     Steel-Blue jerked out the box he'd usedonce before. A tentacle danced over it.     Abruptly Jon found himself standing ona pinnacle of rock. Steel-Blue had cut aswath around him 15 feet deep and five feetwide.     Back to the room, Steel-Blue commanded.     Jon resheathed the stubray pistol,shrugged non-committally and leaped thetrench. He walked slowly back and reenteredthe torture chamber.     The Steel-Blues rapidly repaired the damagehe'd done.     As he watched them, Jon was still curious,but he was getting mad underneath atthe cold egoism of the Steel-Blues.     By the shimmering clouds of Earth, byher green fields, and dark forests, he'dstay alive to warn the SP ship.     Yes, he'd stay alive till then. And sendthe story of the Steel-Blues' corrosive acidto it. Then hundreds of Earth's ships couldequip themselves with spray guns and squirtcitric acid and watch the Steel-Blues fadeaway.     It sounded almost silly to Jon Karyl. Thefruit acid of Earth to repel these invaders—itdoesn't sound possible. That couldn't bethe answer.     Citric acid wasn't the answer, Jon Karyldiscovered a week later.     The Steel-Blue who had captured him inthe power room of the service station camein to examine him.     You're still holding out, I see, he observedafter poking Jon in every sensitivepart of his body.     I'll suggest to No. 1 that we increasethe power of the—ah—hemlock. How doyou feel?     Between the rich oxygen and the dizzinessof hunger, Jon was a bit delirious. But heanswered honestly enough: My guts feel asif they're chewing each other up. My bonesache. My joints creak. I can't coordinate I'mso hungry.     That is the hemlock, Steel-Blue said.     It was when he quaffed the new andstronger draught that Jon knew that hishope that it was citric acid was squelched.     The acid taste was weaker which meantthat the citric acid was the diluting liquid.It was the liquid he couldn't taste beneaththe tang of the citric acid that was the corrosiveacid.     On the fourteenth day, Jon was so weakhe didn't feel much like moving around. Helet the cylinder feed him the hemlock.     No. 1 came again to see him, and wentaway chuckling, Decrease the dilution.This Earthman at last is beginning tosuffer.   <doc-sep>Old Maota read, Michaelson listened. The cadence was different, thesyntax confusing. But the thoughts were there. It might have beena professor back on Earth reading to his students. Keats, Shelley,Browning. These people were human, with human thoughts and aspirations.     The old man stopped reading. He squatted slowly, keeping Michaelson insight, and laid the book face up in the sand. Wind moved the pages.     See? he said. The spirits read. They must have been great readers,these people. They drink the book, as if it were an elixir. See howgentle! They lap at the pages like a new kitten tasting milk.     Michaelson laughed. You certainly have an imagination.     What difference does it make? Maota cried, suddenly angry. You wantto close up all these things in boxes for a posterity who may have noslightest feeling or appreciation. I want to leave the city as it is,for spirits whose existence I cannot prove.     The old man's eyes were furious now, deadly. The gun came down directlyin line with the Earthman's chest. The gnarled finger moved.     Michaelson, using the power of the cylinder behind his ear, jumpedbehind the old webfoot. To Maota it seemed that he had flicked out ofexistence like a match blown out. The next instant Michaelson spunhim around and hit him. It was an inexpert fist, belonging to anarcheologist, not a fighter. But Maota was an old man.     He dropped in the sand, momentarily stunned. Michaelson bent over topick up the gun and the old man, feeling it slip from his fingers,hung on and was pulled to his feet.     They struggled for possession of the gun, silently, gasping, kickingsand. Faces grew red. Lips drew back over Michaelson's white teeth,over Maota's pink, toothless gums. The dead city's fragile spires threwimpersonal shadows down where they fought.     Then quite suddenly a finger or hand—neither knew whose finger orhand—touched the firing stud.     There was a hollow, whooshing sound. Both stopped still, realizing thetotal destruction they might have caused.     It only hit the ground, Michaelson said.     A black, charred hole, two feet in diameter and—they could not see howdeep—stared at them.     Maota let go and sprawled in the sand. The book! he cried. The bookis gone!     No! We probably covered it with sand while we fought.  <doc-sep>  There  was a hiss. Simultaneously, as thetiny microphone on the outside of hissuit picked up the hiss, he felt a chill gothrough his body. Then it seemed as if ahalf dozen hands were inside him, examininghis internal organs. His stomach contracted.He felt a squeeze on his heart. Hislungs tickled.     There were several more queer motionsinside his body.     Then another Steel-Blue voice said:     He is a soft-metal creature, made up ofmetals that melt at a very low temperature.He also contains a liquid whose makeup Icannot ascertain by ray-probe. Bring himback when the torture is done.     Jon Karyl grinned a trifle wryly. Whatkind of torture could this be?     Would it last 21 days? He glanced at thechronometer on his wrist.     Jon's Steel-Blue led him out of the alienship and halted expectantly just outside theship's lock.     Jon Karyl waited, too. He thought of thestubray pistol holstered at his hip. Shoot myway out? It'd be fun while it lasted. But hetoted up the disadvantages.     He either would have to find a hidingplace on the asteroid, and if the Steel-Blueswanted him bad enough they could tear thewhole place to pieces, or somehow getaboard the little life ship hidden in theservice station.     In that he would be just a sitting duck.     He shrugged off the slight temptation touse the pistol. He was still curious.     And he was interested in staying alive aslong as possible. There was a remote chancehe might warn the SP ship. Unconsciously,he glanced toward his belt to see the littlepower pack which, if under ideal conditions,could finger out fifty thousand miles intospace.     If he could somehow stay alive the 21days he might be able to warn the patrol.He couldn't do it by attempting to flee, forhis life would be snuffed out immediately.     The Steel-Blue said quietly:     It might be ironical to let you warnthat SP ship you keep thinking about. Butwe know your weapon now. Already ourship is equipped with a force field designedespecially to deflect your atomic guns.     Jon Karyl covered up his thoughtsquickly. They can delve deeper than thesurface of the mind. Or wasn't I keeping aleash on my thoughts?     The Steel-Blue chuckled. You get—absent-minded,is it?—every once in awhile.     Just then four other Steel-Blues appearedlugging great sheets of plastic and variousother equipment.     They dumped their loads and began unbundlingthem.     Working swiftly, they built a plasticigloo, smaller than the living room in thelarger service station igloo. They ranged instrumentsinside—one of them Jon Karylrecognized as an air pump from within thestation—and they laid out a pallet.     When they were done Jon saw a miniaturereproduction of the service station, lackingonly the cannon cap and fin, and with clearplastic walls instead of the opaqueness of theother.     His Steel-Blue said: We have reproducedthe atmosphere of your station so that yoube watched while you undergo the tortureunder the normal conditions of your life.     What is this torture? Jon Karyl asked.     The answer was almost caressing: It isa liquid we use to dissolve metals. It causesjoints to harden if even so much as a dropremains on it long. It eats away the metal,leaving a scaly residue which crumbleseventually into dust.     We will dilute it with a harmless liquidfor you since No. 1 does not wish you to dieinstantly.     Enter your—the Steel-Blue hesitated—mausoleum.You die in your own atmosphere.However, we took the liberty of purifyingit. There were dangerous elements init.     Jon walked into the little igloo. TheSteel-Blues sealed the lock, fingered dialsand switches on the outside. Jon's space suitdeflated. Pressure was building up in theigloo.     He took a sample of the air, found thatit was good, although quite rich in oxygencompared with what he'd been using in theservice station and in his suit.     With a sigh of relief he took off his helmetand gulped huge draughts of the air.     He sat down on the pallet and waitedfor the torture to begin.     The Steel Blues crowded about the igloo,staring at him through elliptical eyes.     Apparently, they too, were waiting for thetorture to begin.     Jon thought the excess of oxygen wasmaking him light-headed.     He stared at a cylinder which was beginningto sprout tentacles from the circle.He rubbed his eyes and looked again. Anopening, like the adjustable eye-piece of aspacescope, was appearing in the center ofthe cylinder.     A square, glass-like tumbler sat in theopening disclosed in the four-foot cylinderthat had sprouted tentacles. It contained ayellowish liquid.     One of the tentacles reached into theopening and clasped the glass. The openingclosed and the cylinder, propelled by locomotorappendages, moved toward Jon.     He didn't like the looks of the liquid inthe tumbler. It looked like an acid of somesort. He raised to his feet.     He unsheathed the stubray gun and preparedto blast the cylinder.   <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the significance of the cylinder in the story ""A City Near Centaurus""?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in THE LOST TRIBES OF VENUS? [SEP] <s>  THE LOST TRIBES OF VENUS     By ERIK FENNEL       On mist-shrouded Venus, where hostile       swamp meets hostile sea ... there did       Barry Barr—Earthman transmuted—swap       his Terran heritage for the deep dark       waters of Tana; for the strangely       beautiful Xintel of the blue-brown skin.       [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories May 1954.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Evil luck brought the meteorite to those particular space-timecoordinates as Number Four rode the downhill spiral toward Venus. Thefootball-sized chunk of nickel-iron and rock overtook the ship at arelative speed of only a few hundred miles per hour and passed closeenough to come within the tremendous pseudo-gravatic fields of theidling drivers.     It swerved into a paraboloid course, following the flux lines, and wasdragged directly against one of the three projecting nozzles. Energyof motion was converted to heat and a few meteoric fragments fusedthemselves to the nonmetallic tube casing.     In the jet room the positronic line accelerator for that particulardriver fouled under the intolerable overload, and the backsurge sentsearing heat and deadly radiation blasting through the compartmentbefore the main circuit breakers could clack open.     The bellow of the alarm horn brought Barry Barr fully awake, shatteringa delightfully intimate dream of the dark haired girl he hoped to seeagain soon in Venus Colony. As he unbuckled his bunk straps and startedaft at a floating, bounding run his weightlessness told him instantlythat Number Four was in free fall with dead drivers.     Red warning lights gleamed wickedly above the safety-locked jetroom door, and Nick Podtiaguine, the air machines specialist, wasmanipulating the emergency controls with Captain Reno at his elbow. Oneby one the crew crowded into the corridor and watched in tense silence.     The automatic lock clicked off as the jet room returned to habitableconditions, and at Captain Reno's gesture two men swung the door open.Quickly the commander entered the blasted jet room. Barry Barr wasclose behind him.     Robson Hind, jet chief of Four and electronics expert for Venus Colony,hung back until others had gone in first. His handsome, heavy face hadlost its usual ruddiness.     Captain Reno surveyed the havoc. Young Ryan's body floated eerily inthe zero gravity, charred into instant death by the back-blast. Theline accelerator was a shapeless ruin, but except for broken meterglasses and scorched control handles other mechanical damage appearedminor. They had been lucky.     Turnover starts in six hours twelve minutes, the captain saidmeaningfully.     Robson Hind cleared his throat. We can change accelerators in twohours, he declared. With a quick reassumption of authority he began toorder his crew into action.     It took nearer three hours than two to change accelerators despiteHind's shouted orders.     At last the job was completed. Hind made a final check, floated over tothe control panel and started the fuel feed. With a confident smile hethrew in the accelerator switch.     The meter needles climbed, soared past the red lines without pausing,and just in time to prevent a second blowback, Hind cut the power.           There's metal in the field!      His voice was high and unsteady.  <doc-sep>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>Lethla half-crouched in the midst of the smell of death and thechugging of blood-pumps below. In the silence he reached up with quickfingers, tapped a tiny crystal stud upon the back of his head, and thehalves of a microscopically thin chrysalis parted transparently offof his face. He shucked it off, trailing air-tendrils that had beeninserted, hidden in the uniform, ending in thin globules of oxygen.     He spoke. Triumph warmed his crystal-thin voice. That's how I did it,Earthman.     Glassite! said Rice. A face-moulded mask of glassite!     Lethla nodded. His milk-blue eyes dilated. Very marvelously pared toan unbreakable thickness of one-thirtieth of an inch; worn only on thehead. You have to look quickly to notice it, and, unfortunately, viewedas you saw it, outside the ship, floating in the void, not discernibleat all.     Prickles of sweat appeared on Rice's face. He swore at the Venusian andthe Venusian laughed like some sort of stringed instrument, high andquick.     Burnett laughed, too. Ironically. First time in years a man ever cameaboard the Constellation alive. It's a welcome change.     Lethla showed his needle-like teeth. I thought it might be. Where'syour radio?     Go find it! snapped Rice, hotly.     I will. One hand, blue-veined, on the ladder-rungs, Lethla paused.I know you're weaponless; Purple Cross regulations. And this air-lockis safe. Don't move. Whispering, his naked feet padded white up theladder. Two long breaths later something crashed; metal and glass andcoils. The radio.     Burnett put his shoulder blades against the wall-metal, looking at hisfeet. When he glanced up, Rice's fresh, animated face was spoiled bythe new bitterness in it.     Lethla came down. Like a breath of air on the rungs.     He smiled. That's better. Now. We can talk—     Rice said it, slow:     Interplanetary law declares it straight, Lethla! Get out! Only deadmen belong here.     Lethla's gun grip tightened. More talk of that nature, and only deadmen there will be. He blinked. But first—we must rescue Kriere....     Kriere! Rice acted as if he had been hit in the jaw.     Burnett moved his tongue back and forth on his lips silently, his eyeslidded, listening to the two of them as if they were a radio drama.Lethla's voice came next:     Rather unfortunately, yes. He's still alive, heading toward Venusat an orbital velocity of two thousand m.p.h., wearing one of theseair-chrysali. Enough air for two more hours. Our flag ship was attackedunexpectedly yesterday near Mars. We were forced to take to thelife-boats, scattering, Kriere and I in one, the others sacrificingtheir lives to cover our escape. We were lucky. We got through theEarth cordon unseen. But luck can't last forever.     We saw your morgue ship an hour ago. It's a long, long way to Venus.We were running out of fuel, food, water. Radio was broken. Capturewas certain. You were coming our way; we took the chance. We set asmall time-bomb to destroy the life-rocket, and cast off, wearing ourchrysali-helmets. It was the first time we had ever tried using them totrick anyone. We knew you wouldn't know we were alive until it was toolate and we controlled your ship. We knew you picked up all bodies forbrief exams, returning alien corpses to space later.     Rice's voice was sullen. A set-up for you, huh? Traveling under theprotection of the Purple Cross you can get your damned All-Mighty safeto Venus.     Lethla bowed slightly. Who would suspect a Morgue Rocket of providingsafe hiding for precious Venusian cargo?     Precious is the word for you, brother! said Rice.     Enough! Lethla moved his gun several inches.     Accelerate toward Venus, mote-detectors wide open. Kriere must bepicked up—      now!       <doc-sep>The following day was our seventh in the swamp. The water hereresembled a vast mosaic, striped and cross-striped with long windingribbons of yellowish substance that floated a few inches below thesurface. The mold balls coming into contact with the evonium water ofthe swamp had undergone a chemical change and evolved into a cohesivemulti-celled marine life that lived and died within a space of hours.The Venusians paddled with extreme care. Had one of them dipped hishand into one of those yellow streaks, he would have been devoured ina matter of seconds.     At high noon by my Earth watch I sighted a low white structure on oneof the distant islands. Moments later we made a landing at a rudejetty, and Grannie Annie was introducing me to Ezra Karn.     He was not as old a man as I had expected, but he was ragged andunkempt with iron gray hair falling almost to his shoulders. He wasdressed in      varpa     cloth, the Venus equivalent of buckskin, and on hishead was an enormous flop-brimmed hat.     Glad to meet you, he said, shaking my hand. Any friend of MissFlowers is a friend of mine. He ushered us down the catwalk into hishut.     The place was a two room affair, small but comfortable. The latesttype of visi set in one corner showed that Karn was not isolated fromcivilization entirely.     Grannie Annie came to the point abruptly. When she had explained theobject of our trip, the prospector became thoughtful.     Green Flames, eh? he repeated slowly. Well yes, I suppose I couldfind that space ship again. That is, if I wanted to.     What do you mean? Grannie paused in the act of rolling herself acigarette. You know where it is, don't you?     Ye-s, Karn nodded. But like I told you before, that ship lies inVarsoom country, and that isn't exactly a summer vacation spot.     What are the Varsoom? I asked. A native tribe?     Karn shook his head. They're a form of life that's never been seen byEarthmen. Strictly speaking, they're no more than a form of energy.     Dangerous?     Yes and no. Only man I ever heard of who escaped their country outsideof myself was the explorer, Darthier, three years ago. I got awaybecause I was alone, and they didn't notice me, and Darthier escapedbecause he made 'em laugh.     Laugh? A scowl crossed Grannie's face.     That's right, Karn said. The Varsoom have a strange nervous reactionthat's manifested by laughing. But just what it is that makes themlaugh, I don't know.     Food supplies and fresh drinking water were replenished at the hut.Several mold guns were borrowed from the prospector's supply to arm theVenusians. And then as we were about to leave, Karn suddenly turned.     The Doctor Universe program, he said. I ain't missed one in months.You gotta wait 'til I hear it.     Grannie frowned in annoyance, but the prospector was adamant. Heflipped a stud, twisted a dial and a moment later was leaning back in achair, listening with avid interest.     It was the same show I had witnessed back in Swamp City. Once again Iheard questions filter in from the far outposts of the System. Onceagain I saw the commanding figure of the quiz master as he strode backand forth across the stage. And as I sat there, looking into the visiscreen, a curious numbing drowsiness seemed to steal over me and leadmy thoughts far away.  <doc-sep>She nodded. There are quite a few of us now—about a thousand—and adozen ships. Our base used to be here on Venus, down toward the Pole.The dome we're in now was designed and built by us a few years agoafter we got pushed off Mars. We lost a few men in the construction,but with almost every advance in space, someone dies.     Venus is getting too civilized. We're moving out and this dome is onlya temporary base when we have cases like yours. The new base—I mightas well tell you it's going to be an asteroid. I won't say which one.     Don't get the idea that we're outlaws. Sure, about half our group iswanted by the Bureau, but we make honest livings. We're just peoplelike yourself and Jacob.     Jacob? Your husband?     She laughed. Makes you think of a Biblical character, doesn't it?Jacob's anything but that. And just plain 'Jake' reminds one of agrizzled old uranium prospector and he isn't like that, either.     She lit a cigarette. Anyway, the wanted ones stay out beyond thefrontiers. Jacob and those like him can never return to Earth—not evento Hoover City—except dead. The others are physical or psycho rejectswho couldn't get clearance if they went back to Earth. They knownothing but rocketing and won't give up. They bring in our ships tofrontier ports like Hoover City to unload cargo and take on supplies.     Don't the authorities object?     Not very strongly. The I. B. I. has too many problems right here tosearch the whole System for a few two-bit crooks. Besides, we carrycargoes of almost pure uranium and tungsten and all the stuff that'sscarce on Earth and Mars and Venus. Nobody really cares whether itcomes from the asteroids or Hades. If we want to risk our lives miningit, that's our business.     She pursed her lips. But if they guessed how strong we are or that wehave friends planted in the I. B. I.—well, things might be different.There probably would be a crackdown.     Ben scowled. What happens if there      is     a crackdown? And what will youdo when Space Corps ships officially reach the asteroids? They can'tignore you then.     Then we move on. We dream up new gimmicks for our crates and take themto Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto. In time, maybe, we'll bepushed out of the System itself. Maybe it won't be the white-suitedboys who'll make that first hop to the stars. It      could     be us, youknow—if we live long enough. But that Asteroid Belt is murder. Youcan't follow the text-book rules of astrogation out there. You make upyour own.  <doc-sep>  A PLANET NAMED JOE     By S. A. LOMBINO       There were more Joes on Venus than you could shake       a ray-gun at. Perhaps there was method in Colonel       Walsh's madness—murder-madness—when he ordered Major       Polk to scan the planet for a guy named Joe.       [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories     November 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the     U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Colonel Walsh had a great sense of humor. I hated his guts ever sincewe went through the Academy together, but he had a great sense of humor.     For example, he could have chosen a Second Looie for the job on Venus.He might even have picked a Captain. But he liked me about as much asI liked him, and so he decided the job was just right for a Major. Atleast, that's what he told me.     I stood at attention before his desk in the Patrol Station. We weresomewhere in Area Two on Earth, takeoff point for any operations inSpace II. The duty was fine, and I liked it a lot. Come to think ofit, the most I ever did was inspect a few defective tubes every now andthen. The rest was gravy, and Colonel Walsh wasn't going to let me getby with gravy.     It will be a simple assignment, Major, he said to me, peering overhis fingers. He held them up in front of him like a cathedral.     Yes, sir, I said.     It will involve finding one man, a Venusian native.     I wanted to say, Then why the hell don't you send a green kid onthe job? Why me? Instead, I nodded and watched him playing with hisfingers.     The man is a trader of sorts. Rather intelligent. He paused, thenadded, For a native, that is.     I had never liked Walsh's attitude toward natives. I hadn't liked theway he'd treated the natives on Mars ever since he'd taken over there.Which brought to mind an important point.     I always figured Venus was under the jurisdiction of Space III, sir. Ithought our activities were confined to Mars.     He folded his fingers like a deck of cards and dropped them on his deskas if he were waiting for me to cut.     Mmmm, he said, yes, that's true. But this is a special job. It sohappens this Venusian is the one man who can help us understand justwhat's happening on Mars.     I tried to picture a Venusian understanding Mars and I didn't get veryfar.     He's had many dealings with the natives there, Walsh explained. Ifanyone can tell us the reasons for the revolt, he can.     If Walsh really wanted to know the reasons for the revolt, I could givethem to him in one word: Walsh. I had to laugh at the way he calledit revolt. It had been going on for six months now and we'd lost atleast a thousand men from Space II. Revolt.     And this man is on Venus now? I asked for confirmation. I'd neverbeen to Venus, being in Space II ever since I'd left the Moon run. Itwas just like Walsh to ship me off to a strange place.     Yes, Major, he said. This man is on Venus.     At the Academy he had called me Fred. That was before I'd reportedhim for sleeping on Boiler Watch. He'd goofed off on a pile of uraniumthat could've, and almost did, blow the barracks sky-high that night.He still thought it was my fault, as if I'd done the wrong thing byreporting him. And now, through the fouled-up machinery that exists inany military organization, he outranked me.     And the man's name, sir?     Joe. A tight smile played on his face.     Joe what? I asked.     Just Joe.     Just Joe?     Yes, Walsh said. A native, you know. They rarely go in for more thanfirst names. But then, it should be simple to find a man with a namelike Joe. Among the natives, I mean.     I don't know, sir.     A relatively simple assignment, Walsh said.     Can you tell me anything else about this man? Physical appearance?Personal habits? Anything?     Walsh seemed to consider this for a moment. Well, physically he's likeany of the other Venusians, so I can't give you much help there. Hedoes have a peculiar habit, though.     What's that?     He has an affinity for Terran cigarettes.     I sighed. Well, it's not very much to go on.     You'll find him, Walsh said, grinning. I'm sure of it.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>Before he had time to decide, Kaiser heard the small bell of thecommunicator from the tent behind him. He stood undecided for a moment,then returned and read the message on the tape:     STILL ANXIOUSLY AWAITING WORD FROM YOU.     IN MEANTIME, GIVE VERY CLOSE ATTENTION TO FOLLOWING.     WE KNOW THAT THE SYMBIOTES MUST BE ABLE TO MAKE RADICAL CHANGES IN THEPHYSIOLOGY OF THE SEAL-PEOPLE. THERE IS EVERY PROBABILITY THAT YOURSWILL ATTEMPT TO DO THE SAME TO YOU—TO BETTER FIT YOUR BODY TO ITSPRESENT ENVIRONMENT.     THE DANGER, WHICH WE HESITATED TO MENTION UNTIL NOW—WHEN YOU HAVEFORCED US BY YOUR OBSTINATE SILENCE—IS THAT IT CAN ALTER YOURMIND ALSO. YOUR REPORT ON SECOND TRIBE OF SEAL-PEOPLE STRONGLYINDICATES THAT THIS IS ALREADY HAPPENING. THEY WERE PROBABLY NOT MOREINTELLIGENT AND HUMANLIKE THAN THE OTHERS. ON THE CONTRARY, YOU AREBECOMING MORE LIKE THEM.     DANGER ACUTE. RETURN IMMEDIATELY. REPEAT: IMMEDIATELY!     SS II     Kaiser picked up a large rock and slowly, methodically pounded thecommunicator into a flattened jumble of metal and loose parts.     When he finished, he returned to the waiting girl on the river bank.She pointed at his plastic trousers and made laughing sounds in herthroat. Kaiser returned the laugh and stripped off the trousers. Theyran, still laughing, into the water.     Already the long pink hair that had been growing on his body during thepast week was beginning to turn brown at the roots.   <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in THE LOST TRIBES OF VENUS?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How does Barry Barr's character develop throughout THE LOST TRIBES OF VENUS? [SEP] <s>  THE LOST TRIBES OF VENUS     By ERIK FENNEL       On mist-shrouded Venus, where hostile       swamp meets hostile sea ... there did       Barry Barr—Earthman transmuted—swap       his Terran heritage for the deep dark       waters of Tana; for the strangely       beautiful Xintel of the blue-brown skin.       [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories May 1954.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Evil luck brought the meteorite to those particular space-timecoordinates as Number Four rode the downhill spiral toward Venus. Thefootball-sized chunk of nickel-iron and rock overtook the ship at arelative speed of only a few hundred miles per hour and passed closeenough to come within the tremendous pseudo-gravatic fields of theidling drivers.     It swerved into a paraboloid course, following the flux lines, and wasdragged directly against one of the three projecting nozzles. Energyof motion was converted to heat and a few meteoric fragments fusedthemselves to the nonmetallic tube casing.     In the jet room the positronic line accelerator for that particulardriver fouled under the intolerable overload, and the backsurge sentsearing heat and deadly radiation blasting through the compartmentbefore the main circuit breakers could clack open.     The bellow of the alarm horn brought Barry Barr fully awake, shatteringa delightfully intimate dream of the dark haired girl he hoped to seeagain soon in Venus Colony. As he unbuckled his bunk straps and startedaft at a floating, bounding run his weightlessness told him instantlythat Number Four was in free fall with dead drivers.     Red warning lights gleamed wickedly above the safety-locked jetroom door, and Nick Podtiaguine, the air machines specialist, wasmanipulating the emergency controls with Captain Reno at his elbow. Oneby one the crew crowded into the corridor and watched in tense silence.     The automatic lock clicked off as the jet room returned to habitableconditions, and at Captain Reno's gesture two men swung the door open.Quickly the commander entered the blasted jet room. Barry Barr wasclose behind him.     Robson Hind, jet chief of Four and electronics expert for Venus Colony,hung back until others had gone in first. His handsome, heavy face hadlost its usual ruddiness.     Captain Reno surveyed the havoc. Young Ryan's body floated eerily inthe zero gravity, charred into instant death by the back-blast. Theline accelerator was a shapeless ruin, but except for broken meterglasses and scorched control handles other mechanical damage appearedminor. They had been lucky.     Turnover starts in six hours twelve minutes, the captain saidmeaningfully.     Robson Hind cleared his throat. We can change accelerators in twohours, he declared. With a quick reassumption of authority he began toorder his crew into action.     It took nearer three hours than two to change accelerators despiteHind's shouted orders.     At last the job was completed. Hind made a final check, floated over tothe control panel and started the fuel feed. With a confident smile hethrew in the accelerator switch.     The meter needles climbed, soared past the red lines without pausing,and just in time to prevent a second blowback, Hind cut the power.           There's metal in the field!      His voice was high and unsteady.  <doc-sep>The blazing disc of Sol, the minor globes of the planets, the unwinkingpinpoints of the stars, all stared with cosmic disinterest at the tinyfigure crawling along the hull. His spacesuit trapped and amplifiedbreathing and heartbeats into a roaring chaos that was an invitationto blind panic, and all the while there was consciousness of theinsidiously deadly Sigma radiations.     Barry found the debris of the meteorite, an ugly shining splotchagainst the dull superceramic tube, readied his power chisel, startedcutting. Soon it became a tedious, torturingly strenuous manual taskrequiring little conscious thought, and Barry's mind touched briefly onthe events that had brought him here.     First Luna, and that had been murderous. Man had encountered Sigmafor the first time, and many had died before the Kendall-shield wasperfected. And the chemical-fueled rockets of those days had beeninherently poor.     Hoskins semi-atomics had made possible the next step—to Mars. But menhad found Mars barren, swept clear of all life in the cataclysm thathad shattered the trans-Martian planet to form the Asteroid Belt.     Venus, its true surface forever hidden by enshrouding mists, had beenwell within one-way range. But Hoskins fuel requirements for a roundtrip added up to something beyond critical mass. Impossible.     But the Five Ship Plan had evolved, a joint enterprise of governmentand various private groups. Five vessels were to go out, each fueledto within a whiskered neutron of spontaneous detonation, manned byspecialists who, it was hoped, could maintain themselves under alienconditions.     On Venus the leftover fuel from all five would be transferred towhichever ship had survived the outbound voyage in best condition.That one would return to Earth. Permanent base or homeward voyage withcolonists crowded aboard like defeated sardines? Only time would tell.     Barry Barr had volunteered, and because the enlightened guesses of theexperts called for men and women familiar with tropical conditions,he had survived the rigorous weeding-out process. His duties in VenusColony would be to refabricate the discarded ships into whatever formwas most needed—most particularly a launching ramp—and to studynative Venusian materials.     Dorothy Voorhees had signed on as toxicologist and dietician. When thelimited supply of Earth food ran out the Colony would be forced torely upon Venusian plants and animals. She would guard against subtledelayed-action poisons, meanwhile devising ways of preparing Venusianmaterials to suit Earth tastes and digestions.     Barry had met her at Training Base and known at once that his years ofloneliness had come to an end.     She seemed utterly independent, self-contained, completely intellectualdespite her beauty, but Barry had not been deceived. From the momentof first meeting he had sensed within her deep springs of suppressedemotion, and he had understood. He too had come up the hard way, alone,and been forced to develop a shell of hardness and cold, single-mindeddevotion to his work. Gradually, often unwillingly under hisinsistence, her aloofness had begun to melt.     But Robson Hind too had been attracted. He was the only son of thebusiness manager of the great Hoskins Corporation which carrieda considerable share in the Five Ship Plan. Dorothy's failure tovirtually fall into his arms had only piqued his desires.     The man's smooth charm had fascinated the girl and his money had openedto her an entirely new world of lavish nightclubs and extravagantlyexpensive entertainments, but her inborn shrewdness had sensed somefactor in his personality that had made her hesitate.     Barry had felt a distrust of Hind apart from the normal dislike ofrivalry. He had looked forward to being with Dorothy aboard Three, andhad made no secret of his satisfaction when Hind's efforts to havehimself transferred to Three also or the girl to Four had failed.     But then a scaffold had slipped while Three was being readied, and witha fractured ankle he had been forced to miss the ship.     He unclipped the magnetic detector from his belt and ran it inch byinch over the nozzle. He found one spot of metal, pinhead-sized, butenough to cause trouble, and once more swung his power chisel intostuttering action.     Then it was done.     As quickly as possible he inched back to the airlock. Turnover had tostart according to calculations.  <doc-sep>Barry developed definite external signs of what the Sigma radiation haddone to him. The skin between his fingers and toes spread, grew intomembranous webs. The swellings in his neck became more pronounced anddark parallel lines appeared.     But despite the doctor's pessimistic reports that the changes had notstopped, Barry continued to tell himself he was recovering. He hadto believe and keep on believing to retain sanity in the face of theweird, unclassifiable feelings that surged through his body. Stillhe was subject to fits of almost suicidal depression, and Dorothy'sfailure to visit him did not help his mental condition.     Then one day he woke from a nap and thought he was still dreaming.Dorothy was leaning over him.     Barry! Barry! she whispered. I can't help it. I love you even if youdo have a wife and child in Philadelphia. I know it's wrong but allthat seems so far away it doesn't matter any more. Tears glistened inher eyes.     Huh? he grunted. Who? Me?     Please, Barry, don't lie. She wrote to me before Three blastedoff—oh, the most piteous letter!     Barry was fully awake now. I'm not married. I have no child.I've never been in Philadelphia, he shouted. His lips thinned.I—think—I—know—who—wrote—that—letter! he declared grimly.     Robson wouldn't! she objected, shocked, but there was a note of doubtin her voice.     Then she was in his arms, sobbing openly.     I believe you, Barry.     She stayed with him for hours, and she had changed since the daysat Training Base. Long months away from the patterned restraints ofcivilization, living each day on the edge of unknown perils, hadawakened in her the realization that she was a human being and awoman, as well as a toxicologist.     When the water-mist finally forced her departure she left Barry joyousand confident of his eventual recovery. For a few minutes angersimmered in his brain as he contemplated the pleasure of rearrangingRobson Hind's features.     The accident with the scaffold had been remarkably convenient, butthis time the ruthless, restless, probably psychopathic drive that hadmade Robson Hind more than just another rich man's spoiled son hadcarried him too far. Barry wondered whether it had been inefficiency orjudiciously distributed money that had made the psychometrists overlooksome undesirable traits in Hind's personality in accepting him for theFive Ship Plan.     But even with his trickery Hind had lost.     He slept, and woke with a feeling of doom.     The slow Venusian twilight had ended in blackness and the overheadtubelight was off.     He sat up, and apprehension gave way to burning torture in his chest.     Silence! He fumbled for the light switch, then knelt beside the mistmachine that no longer hummed. Power and water supplies were both dead,cut off outside his room.     Floating droplets were merging and falling to the floor. Soon the airwould be dry, and he would be choking and strangling. He turned to callfor help.     The door was locked!     He tugged and the knob came away in his hand. The retaining screw hadbeen removed.     He beat upon the panel, first with his fists and then with the metaldoorknob, but the insulation between the double alloy sheets wasefficient soundproofing. Furiously he hurled himself upon it, only tobounce back with a bruised shoulder. He was trapped.     Working against time and eventual death he snatched a metal chairand swung with all his force at the window, again, again, yet again.A small crack appeared in the transparent plastic, branched undercontinued hammering, became a rough star. He gathered his waningstrength, then swung once more. The tough plastic shattered.     He tugged at the jagged pieces still clinging to the frame. Fog-ladenVenusian air poured in—but it was not enough!     He dragged himself head first through the narrow opening, landedsprawling on hands and knees in the darkness. In his ears a confusedrustling drone from the alien swamp mingled with the roar ofapproaching unconsciousness.     There was a smell in his nostrils. The smell of water. He lurchedforward at a shambling run, stumbling over the uneven ground.     Then he plunged from the rocky ledge into the slough. Flashes ofcolored light flickered before his eyes as he went under. But Earthhabits were still strong; instinctively he held his breath.     Then he fainted. Voluntary control of his body vanished. His mouth hungslack and the breathing reflex that had been an integral part of hislife since the moment of birth forced him to inhale.     Bubbles floated upward and burst. Then Barry Barr was lying in the oozeof the bottom. And he was breathing, extracting vital oxygen from thebrackish, silt-clouded water.      III     Slowly his racing heartbeat returned to normal. Gradually he becameaware of the stench of decaying plants and of musky taints he knewinstinctively were the scents of underwater animals. Then with a shockthe meaning became clear. He had become a water-breather, cut off fromall other Earthmen, no longer entirely human. His fellows in the colonywere separated from him now by a gulf more absolute than the airlessvoid between Earth and Venus.     Something slippery and alive touched him near one armpit. He openedhis eyes in the black water and his groping hand clutched somethingburrowing into his skin. With a shudder of revulsion he crushed a fatworm between his fingers.     Then dozens of them—hundreds—were upon him from all sides. He waswearing only a pair of khaki pants but the worms ignored his chest tocongregate around his face, intent on attacking the tender skin of hiseyelids.     For a minute his flailing hands fought them off, but they came inincreasing numbers and clung like leeches. Pain spread as they bit andburrowed, and blindly he began to swim.     Faster and faster. He could sense the winding banks of the slough andkept to midchannel, swimming with his eyes tightly closed. One by onethe worms dropped off.     He stopped, opened his eyes, not on complete darkness this time but ona faint blue-green luminescence from far below. The water was saltierhere, and clearer.     He had swum down the slough and out into the ocean. He tried to turnback, obsessed by a desire to be near the colony even though hecould not go ashore without strangling, but he had lost all sense ofdirection.     He was still weak and his lungs were not completely adjusted tounderwater life. Again he grew dizzy and faint. The slow movements ofhands and feet that held him just below the surface grew feeble andceased. He sank.     Down into dimly luminous water he dropped, and with his respiratorysystem completely water-filled there was no sensation of pressure. Atlast he floated gently to the bottom and lay motionless.     Shouting voices awakened him, an exultant battle cry cutting through agasping scream of anguish. Streaks of bright orange light were movingtoward him in a twisting pattern. At the head of each trail was afigure. A human figure that weaved and swam in deadly moving combat.One figure drifted limply bottomward.     Hallucination, Barry told himself. Then one of the figures broke fromthe group. Almost overhead it turned sharply downward and the feetmoved in a powerful flutter-kick. A slender spear aimed directly at theEarthman.     Barry threw himself aside. The spear point plunged deep into thesticky, yielding bottom and Barry grappled with its wielder.     Pointed fingernails raked his cheek. Barry's balled fist swungin a roundhouse blow but water resistance slowed the punch toineffectiveness. The creature only shook its head and came in kickingand clawing.     Barry braced his feet against the bottom and leaped. His head buttedthe attacker's chest and at the same instant he lashed a short jab tothe creature's belly. It slumped momentarily, its face working.     Human—or nearly so—the thing was, with a stocky, powerful body andwebbed hands and feet. A few scraps of clothing, seemingly worn morefor ornament than covering, clung to the fishbelly-white skin. The facewas coarse and savage.     It shook off the effects of Barry's punch and one webbed hand snatcheda short tube from its belt.     Barry remembered the spring-opening knife in his pocket, and even ashe flicked the blade out the tube-weapon fired. Sound thrummed in thewater and the water grew milky with a myriad of bubbles. Somethingzipped past his head, uncomfortably close.     Then Barry struck, felt his knife slice flesh and grate against bone.He struck again even as the undersea being screamed and went limp.     Barry stared through the reddening water.     Another figure plunged toward him. Barry jerked the dead Venusian'sspear from the mud and raised it defensively.     But the figure paid no attention. This one was a female who fleddesperately from two men closing in from opposite sides. One threw hisspear, using an odd pushing motion, and as she checked and dodged, theother was upon her from behind.     One arm went around her neck in a strangler's hold, bending her slenderbody backward. Together captor and struggling captive sank toward thebottom. The other recovered his thrown spear and moved in to helpsecure her arms and legs with lengths of cord.     One scooped up the crossbow the girl had dropped. The other ripped ather brief skirt and from her belt took a pair of tubes like the one thedead Venusian had fired at Barry, handling them as though they wereloot of the greatest value. He jerked cruelly at the slender metallicnecklace the girl wore but it did not break.     He punched the helpless girl in the abdomen with the butt of his spear.The girl writhed but she did not attempt to cry out.     Barry bounded toward them in a series of soaring leaps, knife and spearready. One Venusian turned to meet him, grinning maliciously.     Barry dug one foot into the bottom and sidestepped a spear thrust. Hisown lunge missed completely. Then he and the Venusian were inside eachother's spear points, chest to chest. A pointed hook strapped to theinside of the creature's wrist just missed Barry's throat. The Earthmanarched his body backward and his knife flashed upward. The creaturegasped and pulled away, clutching with both hands at a gaping wound inits belly.     The other one turned too late as Barry leaped.     Barry's hilt cracked against its jawbone.  <doc-sep>Barry opened his eyes. The ship was in normal deceleration and NickPodtiaguine was watching him from a nearby bunk.     I could eat a cow with the smallpox, Barry declared.     Nick grinned. No doubt. You slept around the clock and more. Nice jobof work out there.     Barry unhitched his straps and sat up.     Say, he asked anxiously. What's haywire with the air?     Nick looked startled. Nothing. Everything checked out when I came offwatch a few minutes ago.     Barry shrugged. Probably just me. Guess I'll go see if I can mooch ahandout.     He found himself a hero. The cook was ready to turn the galley insideout while a radio engineer and an entomologist hovered near to wait onhim. But he couldn't enjoy the meal. The sensations of heat and drynesshe had noticed on awakening grew steadily worse. It became difficult tobreathe.     He started to rise, and abruptly the room swirled and darkened aroundhim. Even as he sank into unconsciousness he knew the answer.     The suit's Kendall-shield had leaked!     Four plunged toward Venus tail first, the Hoskins jets flaring ahead.The single doctor for the Colony had gone out in Two and the crewmentrained in first aid could do little to relieve Barry's distress.Fainting spells alternated with fever and delirium and an unquenchablethirst. His breathing became increasingly difficult.     A few thousand miles out Four picked up a microbeam. A feeling ofexultation surged through the ship as Captain Reno passed the word, forthe beam meant that some Earthmen were alive upon Venus. They were notnecessarily diving straight toward oblivion. Barry, sick as he was,felt the thrill of the unknown world that lay ahead.     Into a miles-thick layer of opacity Four roared, with Captain Renohimself jockeying throttles to keep it balanced on its self-createdsupport of flame.     You're almost in, a voice chanted into his headphones throughcrackling, sizzling static. Easy toward spherical one-thirty. Hold it!Lower. Lower. CUT YOUR POWER!     The heavy hull dropped sickeningly, struck with a mushy thud, settled,steadied.     Barry was weak, but with Nick Podtiaguine steadying him he was waitingwith the others when Captain Reno gave the last order.     Airlock open. Both doors.     Venusian air poured in.     For this I left Panama? one of the men yelped.     Enough to gag a maggot, another agreed with hand to nose.     It was like mid-summer noon in a tropical mangrove swamp, hot andunbearably humid and overpowering with the stench of decayingvegetation.     But Barry took one deep breath, then another. The stabbing needles inhis chest blunted, and the choking band around his throat loosened.     The outer door swung wide. He blinked, and a shift in the encompassingvapors gave him his first sight of a world bathed in subdued light.     Four had landed in a marsh with the midships lock only a few feet abovea quagmire surface still steaming from the final rocket blast. Nearbythe identical hulls of Two and Three stood upright in the mud. Themist shifted again and beyond the swamp he could see the low, roundedoutlines of the collapsible buildings Two and Three had carried intheir cargo pits. They were set on a rock ledge rising a few feet outof the marsh. The Colony!     Men were tossing sections of lattice duckboard out upon the swamp,extending a narrow walkway toward Four's airlock, and within a fewminutes the new arrivals were scrambling down.     Barry paid little attention to the noisy greetings and excited talk.Impatiently he trotted toward the rock ledge, searching for oneparticular figure among the men and women who waited.     Dorothy! he said fervently.     Then his arms were around her and she was responding to his kiss.     Then unexpected pain tore at his chest. Her lovely face took on anexpression of fright even as it wavered and grew dim. The last thing hesaw was Robson Hind looming beside her.     By the glow of an overhead tubelight he recognized the kindly, deeplylined features of the man bending over him. Dr. Carl Jensen, specialistin tropical diseases. He tried to sit up but the doctor laid arestraining hand on his shoulder.     Water! Barry croaked.     The doctor held out a glass. Then his eyes widened incredulously as hispatient deliberately drew in a breath while drinking, sucking waterdirectly into his lungs.     Doctor, he asked, keeping his voice low to spare his throat. Whatare my chances? On the level.     Dr. Jensen shook his head thoughtfully. There's not a thing—not adamned solitary thing—I can do. It's something new to medical science.     Barry lay still.     Your body is undergoing certain radical changes, the doctorcontinued, and you know as much—more about your condition than I do.If a normal person who took water into his lungs that way didn't die ofa coughing spasm, congestive pneumonia would get him sure. But it seemsto give you relief.     Barry scratched his neck, where a thickened, darkening patch on eachside itched infuriatingly.     What are these changes? he asked. What's this?     Those things seem to be— the doctor began hesitantly. Damn it, Iknow it sounds crazy but they're rudimentary gills.     Barry accepted the outrageous statement unemotionally. He was beyondshock.     But there must be—     Pain struck again, so intense his body twisted and archedinvoluntarily. Then the prick of a needle brought merciful oblivion.      II     Barry's mind was working furiously. The changes the Sigma radiationshad inflicted upon his body might reverse themselves spontaneously, Dr.Jensen had mentioned during a second visit—but for that to happen hemust remain alive. That meant easing all possible strains.     When the doctor came in again Barry asked him to find Nick Podtiaguine.Within a few minutes the mechanic appeared.     Cheez, it's good to see you, Barry, he began.     Stuff it, the sick man interrupted. I want favors. Can do?     Nick nodded vigorously.     First cut that air conditioner and get the window open.     Nick stared as though he were demented, but obeyed, unbolting the heavyplastic window panel and lifting it aside. He made a face at the damp,malodorous Venusian air but to Barry it brought relief.     It was not enough, but it indicated he was on the right track. And hewas not an engineer for nothing.     Got a pencil? he asked.     He drew only a rough sketch, for Nick was far too competent to needdetailed drawings.     Think you can get materials?     Nick glanced at the sketch. Hell, man, for you I can get anything theColony has. You saved Four and everybody knows it.     Two days?     Nick looked insulted.     He was back in eight hours, and with him came a dozen helpers. Apower line and water tube were run through the metal partition to thecorridor, connections were made, and the machine Barry had sketched wasready.     Nick flipped the switch. The thing whined shrilly. From a fanshapednozzle came innumerable droplets of water, droplets of colloidal sizethat hung in the air and only slowly coalesced into larger drops thatfell toward the metal floor.     Barry nodded, a smile beginning to spread across his drawn features.     Perfect. Now put the window back.     Outside lay the unknown world of Venus, and an open, unguarded windowmight invite disaster.     A few hours later Dr. Jensen found his patient in a normal sleep. Theroom was warm and the air was so filled with water-mist it was almostliquid. Coalescing drops dripped from the walls and curving ceilingand furniture, from the half clad body of the sleeping man, and thescavenger pump made greedy gulping sounds as it removed excess waterfrom the floor.     The doctor shook his head as he backed out, his clothes clinging wetfrom the short exposure.     It was abnormal.     But so was Barry Barr.     With breathing no longer a continuous agony Barry began to recover someof his strength. But for several days much of his time was spent insleep and Dorothy Voorhees haunted his dreams.     Whenever he closed his eyes he could see her as clearly as thoughshe were with him—her face with the exotic high cheek-bones—hereyes a deep gray in fascinating contrast to her raven hair—lips thatseemed to promise more of giving than she had ever allowed herself tofulfil—her incongruously pert, humorous little nose that was a legacyfrom some venturesome Irishman—her slender yet firmly lithe body.     After a few days Dr. Jensen permitted him to have visitors. They camein a steady stream, the people from Four and men he had not seen sinceTraining Base days, and although none could endure his semi-liquidatmosphere more than a few minutes at a time Barry enjoyed their visits.     But the person for whom he waited most anxiously did not arrive. Ateach knock Barry's heart would leap, and each time he settled back witha sigh of disappointment. Days passed and still Dorothy did not cometo him. He could not go to her, and stubborn pride kept him from eveninquiring. All the while he was aware of Robson Hind's presence in theColony, and only weakness kept him from pacing his room like a cagedanimal.     Through his window he could see nothing but the gradual brighteningand darkening of the enveloping fog as the slow 82-hour Venusian dayprogressed, but from his visitors' words he learned something ofVenusian conditions and the story of the Colony.     Number One had bumbled in on visual, the pilot depending on the smearyimages of infra-sight goggles. An inviting grassy plain had proved tobe a layer of algae floating on quicksand. Frantically the crew hadblasted down huge balsa-like marsh trees, cutting up the trunks withflame guns to make crude rafts. They had performed fantastic feats ofstrength and endurance but managed to salvage only half their equipmentbefore the shining nose of One had vanished in the gurgling ooze.     Lost in a steaming, stinking marsh teeming with alien creatures thatslithered and crawled and swam and flew, blinded by the eternal fog,the crew had proved the rightness of their choice as pioneers. Forweeks they had floundered across the deadly terrain until at last,beside a stagnant-looking slough that drained sluggishly into a warm,almost tideless sea a mile away, they had discovered an outcropping ofrock. It was the only solid ground they had encountered.     One man had died, his swamp suit pierced by a poisonous thorn, but theothers had hand-hauled the radio beacon piece by piece and set it upin time to guide Two to a safe landing. Houses had been assembled, thesecondary power units of the spaceship put to work, and the colony hadestablished a tenuous foothold.     Three had landed beside Two a few months later, bringingreinforcements, but the day-by-day demands of the little colony'sstruggle for survival had so far been too pressing to permit extendedor detailed explorations. Venus remained a planet of unsolved mysteries.     The helicopter brought out in Three had made several flights whichby radar and sound reflection had placed vague outlines on the blankmaps. The surface appeared to be half water, with land masses mainlyjungle-covered swamp broken by a few rocky ledges, but landings awayfrom base had been judged too hazardous.     Test borings from the ledge had located traces of oil and radioactiveminerals, while enough Venusian plants had proven edible to provide anadequate though monotonous food source.     Venus was the diametric opposite of lifeless Mars. Through the foggigantic insects hummed and buzzed like lost airplanes, but fortunatelythey were harmless and timid.     In the swamps wildly improbable life forms grew and reproduced andfought and died, and many of those most harmless in appearancepossessed surprisingly venomous characteristics.     The jungle had been flamed away in a huge circle around the colony tominimize the chances of surprise by anything that might attack, but theblasting was an almost continuous process. The plants of Venus grewwith a vigor approaching fury.     Most spectacular of the Venusian creatures were the amphibious armoredmonsters, saurian or semi-saurians with a slight resemblance to thebrontosauri that had once lived on Earth, massive swamp-dwellers thatused the slough beside the colony's ledge as a highway. They wereapparently vegetarians, but thorough stupidity in tremendous bulk madethem dangerous. One had damaged a building by blundering against it,and since then the colony had remained alert, using weapons to repelthe beasts.     The most important question—that of the presence or absence ofintelligent, civilized Venusians—remained unanswered. Some of the menreported a disquieting feeling of being watched, particularly when nearopen water, but others argued that any intelligent creatures would haveestablished contact.  <doc-sep>Everyone knew what that meant. The slightest trace of magnetic materialwould distort the delicately balanced cylinder of force that containedand directed the Hoskins blast, making it suicidal to operate.     Calmly Captain Reno voiced the thought in every mind.     It must be cleared. From the outside.     Several of the men swore under their breaths. Interplanetary spacewas constantly bombarded, with an intensity inverse to the prevailinggravitation, by something called Sigma radiation. Man had neverencountered it until leaving Earth, and little was known of itexcept that short exposure killed test animals and left their bodiesunpredictably altered.     Inside the ship it was safe enough, for the sleek hull was charged witha Kendall power-shield, impervious to nearly any Sigma concentration.But the shielding devices in the emergency spacesuits were smalland had never been space-tested in a region of nearly equalizedgravitations.     The man who emerged from the airlock would be flipping a coin with aparticularly unpleasant form of death.     Many pairs of eyes turned toward Robson Hind. He was jet chief.     I'm assigned, not expendable, he protested hastily. If there weremore trouble later.... His face was pasty.     Assigned. That was the key word. Barry Barr felt a lump tighteningin his stomach as the eyes shifted to him. He had some training inHoskins drivers. He knew alloys and power tools. And he was riding Fourunassigned after that broken ankle had made him miss Three. He was thelogical man.     For the safety of the ship. That phrase, taken from the ancientEarthbound code of the sea, had occurred repeatedly in theindoctrination manual at Training Base. He remembered it, andremembered further the contingent plans regarding assigned andunassigned personnel.     For a moment he stood indecisively, the nervous, unhumorous smilequirking across his angular face making him look more like an untriedboy than a structural engineer who had fought his way up through someof the toughest tropical construction camps of Earth. His lean body,built more for quick, neatly coordinated action than brute power,balanced handily in the zero gravity as he ran one hand through hissandy hair in a gesture of uncertainty.     He knew that not even the captain would order him through the airlock.     But the members of the Five Ship Plan had been selected in part for asense of responsibility.     Nick, will you help me button up? he asked with forced calmness.     For an instant he thought he detected a sly gleam in Hind's eyes. Butthen the jet chief was pressing forward with the others to shake hishand.     Rebellious reluctance flared briefly in Barry's mind. Dorothy Voorheeshad refused to make a definite promise before blasting off in Three—infact he hadn't even seen her during her last few days on Earth. Butstill he felt he had the inside track despite Hind's money and thebrash assurance that went with it. But if Hind only were to reach Venusalive—  <doc-sep>She nodded. There are quite a few of us now—about a thousand—and adozen ships. Our base used to be here on Venus, down toward the Pole.The dome we're in now was designed and built by us a few years agoafter we got pushed off Mars. We lost a few men in the construction,but with almost every advance in space, someone dies.     Venus is getting too civilized. We're moving out and this dome is onlya temporary base when we have cases like yours. The new base—I mightas well tell you it's going to be an asteroid. I won't say which one.     Don't get the idea that we're outlaws. Sure, about half our group iswanted by the Bureau, but we make honest livings. We're just peoplelike yourself and Jacob.     Jacob? Your husband?     She laughed. Makes you think of a Biblical character, doesn't it?Jacob's anything but that. And just plain 'Jake' reminds one of agrizzled old uranium prospector and he isn't like that, either.     She lit a cigarette. Anyway, the wanted ones stay out beyond thefrontiers. Jacob and those like him can never return to Earth—not evento Hoover City—except dead. The others are physical or psycho rejectswho couldn't get clearance if they went back to Earth. They knownothing but rocketing and won't give up. They bring in our ships tofrontier ports like Hoover City to unload cargo and take on supplies.     Don't the authorities object?     Not very strongly. The I. B. I. has too many problems right here tosearch the whole System for a few two-bit crooks. Besides, we carrycargoes of almost pure uranium and tungsten and all the stuff that'sscarce on Earth and Mars and Venus. Nobody really cares whether itcomes from the asteroids or Hades. If we want to risk our lives miningit, that's our business.     She pursed her lips. But if they guessed how strong we are or that wehave friends planted in the I. B. I.—well, things might be different.There probably would be a crackdown.     Ben scowled. What happens if there      is     a crackdown? And what will youdo when Space Corps ships officially reach the asteroids? They can'tignore you then.     Then we move on. We dream up new gimmicks for our crates and take themto Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto. In time, maybe, we'll bepushed out of the System itself. Maybe it won't be the white-suitedboys who'll make that first hop to the stars. It      could     be us, youknow—if we live long enough. But that Asteroid Belt is murder. Youcan't follow the text-book rules of astrogation out there. You make upyour own.  <doc-sep>For a moment the old lady sat there in silence; then she leaned back,closed her eyes, and I knew there was a story coming.     My last book,      Death In The Atom     , hit the stands last January,she began. When it was finished I had planned to take a six months'vacation, but those fool publishers of mine insisted I do a sequel.Well, I'd used Mars and Pluto and Ganymede as settings for novels, sofor this one I decided on Venus. I went to Venus City, and I spent sixweeks in-country. I got some swell background material, and I met EzraKarn....     Who? I interrupted.     An old prospector who lives out in the deep marsh on the outskirts ofVarsoom country. To make a long story short, I got him talking abouthis adventures, and he told me plenty.     The old woman paused. Did you ever hear of the Green Flames? sheasked abruptly.     I shook my head. Some new kind of ...     It's not a new kind of anything. The Green Flame is a radio-activerock once found on Mercury. The      Alpha     rays of this rock are similarto radium in that they consist of streams of material particlesprojected at high speed. But the character of the      Gamma     rays hasnever been completely analyzed. Like those set up by radium, they areelectromagnetic pulsations, but they are also a strange combination of      Beta     or cathode rays with negatively charged electrons.     When any form of life is exposed to these      Gamma     rays from the GreenFlame rock, they produce in the creature's brain a certain lassitudeand lack of energy. As the period of exposure increases, this conditiondevelops into a sense of impotence and a desire for leadership orguidance. Occasionally, as with the weak-willed, there is a spirit ofintolerance. The Green Flames might be said to be an inorganic opiate,a thousand times more subtle and more powerful than any known drug.     I was sitting up now, hanging on to the woman's every word.     Now in 2710, as you'd know if you studied your history, the threeplanets of Earth, Venus, and Mars were under governmental bondage. Thecruel dictatorship of Vennox I was short-lived, but it lasted longenough to endanger all civilized life.     The archives tell us that one of the first acts of the overthrowinggovernment was to cast out all Green Flames, two of which Vennox hadordered must be kept in each household. The effect on the people wasimmediate. Representative government, individual enterprise, freedomfollowed.     Grannie Annie lit a cigarette and flipped the match to the floor.     To go back to my first trip to Venus. As I said, I met Ezra Karn, anold prospector there in the marsh. Karn told me that on one of histravels into the Varsoom district he had come upon the wreckage ofan old space ship. The hold of that space ship was packed with GreenFlames!     If Grannie expected me to show surprise at that, she was disappointed.I said, So what?     So everything, Billy-boy. Do you realize what such a thing would meanif it were true? Green Flames were supposedly destroyed on all planetsafter the Vennox regime crashed. If a quantity of the rock were inexistence, and it fell into the wrong hands, there'd be trouble.     Of course, I regarded Karn's story as a wild dream, but it madecorking good story material. I wrote it into a novel, and a week afterit was completed, the manuscript was stolen from my study back onEarth.     I see, I said as she lapsed into silence. And now you've come to theconclusion that the details of your story were true and that someone isattempting to put your plot into action.     Grannie nodded. Yes, she said. That's exactly what I think.     I got my pipe out of my pocket, tamped Martian tobacco into the bowland laughed heartily. The same old Flowers, I said. Tell me, who'syour thief ... Doctor Universe?     She regarded me evenly. What makes you say that?     I shrugged.     The way the theater crowd acted. It all ties in.     The old woman shook her head. No, this is a lot bigger than a simplequiz program. The theater crowd was but a cross-section of what ishappening all over the System. There have been riots on Earth and Mars,police officials murdered on Pluto and a demand that government byrepresentation be abolished on Jupiter. The time is ripe for a militarydictator to step in.     And you can lay it all to the Green Flames. It seems incredible that asingle shipload of the ore could effect such a wide ranged area, but inmy opinion someone has found a means of making that quantity a thousandtimes more potent and is transmiting it      en masse     .     If it had been anyone but Grannie Annie there before me, I wouldhave called her a fool. And then all at once I got an odd feeling ofapproaching danger.     Let's get out of here, I said, getting up.       Zinnng-whack!       All right!     On the mirror behind the bar a small circle with radiating cracksappeared. On the booth wall a scant inch above Grannie's head thefresco seemed to melt away suddenly.     A heat ray!     Grannie Annie leaped to her feet, grasped my arm and raced for thedoor. Outside a driverless hydrocar stood with idling motors. The oldwoman threw herself into the control seat, yanked me in after her andthrew over the starting stud.     An instant later we were plunging through the dark night.  <doc-sep>Dimdooly—the mighty, the lordly, who had sneered at the sight of mereEarthmen kowtowing to a mere woman—swelled up fit to blow his gaskets,then all the gas went out of him. His ear beards, however, still hadenough zip left to flutter like butterflies. Yes, Trillium dear. Ilove only you. Please marry me at your earliest convenience.     Well, Grandmamma, Trillium said with a highly self-satisfied air, itworks. And just like you said, Earthmen meant nothing once I knew weVenus women had our own men in our power.     Those crewmen there, Grandmamma President said, seem to be proofenough that we Venus women no longer radiate any threat to Earth'stranquility.     Yes, ma'am, O'Rielly sure felt like proof of something all of a sudden.Worse than the hangover from that crap game with Venus vino. He lookedaway from Trillium and took a look at Callahan. Old guy looked awayfrom Grandmamma President like he was packing the second biggestheadache in history.     Hmmmm, yes, Madame President of Earth observed. Reactions agreeperfectly with the psychoanalytical research project we have beenconducting on the subject of the Venus female influence. MadamePresident of Venus, congratulations on your victory!     Long may the superior sex reign on Venus too! We shall be delighted toreceive an Ambassadoress to discuss a new trade treaty at your earliestconvenience.     Thank you for cancelling the old trade agreements at the psychologicalmoment, Grandmamma President said cordially. What with thecommunications mixup, we managed to have the scenes on these panelsbroadcast throughout all Venus. When the rug went out from under thetop man, the tide really turned in our favor. Now, Trillium, you takeover Dimmy's credentials.     The Ambassadorial Suite, too, Madame President of Earth saidgraciously. Anything else now, Berta?     I should like, Grandmamma President Berta said charmingly, thatMr. O'Rielly and Mr. Callahan be suitably rewarded for assisting ourrevolution better than they knew.     Of course, Madame President of Earth was delighted to oblige. Nodoubt Captain Hatwoody knows what reward would satisfy their needsbest.     The Madame Presidents switched to a private circuit, Trillium draggedDimdooly off somewhere and the Old Woman eyed O'Rielly and Callahan.Especially she eyed Callahan, like running chilled drills through hisold conniving brain. I award the pair of you five minutes leisurebefore returning to your stations.     Oh, well, O'Rielly muttered, once he and Callahan were safely beyondearshot, could have been rewarded worse, I suppose.     What you expect for being flimflammed by a foreign dame, the rings ofSaturn? Lucky we ain't programmed to be hung, shot and thrown to thecrows for breakfast. Callahan's old pick-and-shovel face wore a littlegrin like the cat that nobody could prove ate the canary.     You—I mean, that Earth guy a hundred twenty-five years ago, O'Riellysaid in sudden thought. If Venus dames wanted to be loved so bad, whydid Trillium's Grandmamma let him go?     Venus guys wasn't so busy playing war all the time, Callahan mumbled,like to himself, they'd of found out the answer centuries ago. Yep,guess our boy was the only guy on Earth or Venus to find out and live.Dames bossing both planets now, though, his old secret won't be onemuch longer. Venus dames could of let it out centuries ago themselvesbut didn't, just to spite Earth probably. Later, was part of organizingto take over Venus, I guess.     O'Rielly still had memories of the way he had felt about Trilliumbefore her revolution. All right, Callahan, why did 'our boy' leaveGrandmamma?     Yes, ma'am, Callahan sighed like he hadn't heard a word O'Riellysaid, you could sweet-talk 'em, kiss 'em and hold 'em tighter'nBilly-be-damned. And that's all.     I'm not sure, O'Rielly said, what you mean by, 'that's all.'     Anybody ever seen anybody but a Venus guy come built with ear beards?Course not.     But I thought our boy was wearing the best fakes ever.     Ain't nothing can match the natural growed-on variety, no, ma'am.Venus guy kisses a Venus dame, his beards grabs her roundst the ears.     So what?     Tickles 'em, boy, tickles 'em!   <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How does Barry Barr's character develop throughout THE LOST TRIBES OF VENUS?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is known about the life forms inhabiting the surface of Venus, as described in THE LOST TRIBES OF VENUS? [SEP] <s>  THE LOST TRIBES OF VENUS     By ERIK FENNEL       On mist-shrouded Venus, where hostile       swamp meets hostile sea ... there did       Barry Barr—Earthman transmuted—swap       his Terran heritage for the deep dark       waters of Tana; for the strangely       beautiful Xintel of the blue-brown skin.       [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories May 1954.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Evil luck brought the meteorite to those particular space-timecoordinates as Number Four rode the downhill spiral toward Venus. Thefootball-sized chunk of nickel-iron and rock overtook the ship at arelative speed of only a few hundred miles per hour and passed closeenough to come within the tremendous pseudo-gravatic fields of theidling drivers.     It swerved into a paraboloid course, following the flux lines, and wasdragged directly against one of the three projecting nozzles. Energyof motion was converted to heat and a few meteoric fragments fusedthemselves to the nonmetallic tube casing.     In the jet room the positronic line accelerator for that particulardriver fouled under the intolerable overload, and the backsurge sentsearing heat and deadly radiation blasting through the compartmentbefore the main circuit breakers could clack open.     The bellow of the alarm horn brought Barry Barr fully awake, shatteringa delightfully intimate dream of the dark haired girl he hoped to seeagain soon in Venus Colony. As he unbuckled his bunk straps and startedaft at a floating, bounding run his weightlessness told him instantlythat Number Four was in free fall with dead drivers.     Red warning lights gleamed wickedly above the safety-locked jetroom door, and Nick Podtiaguine, the air machines specialist, wasmanipulating the emergency controls with Captain Reno at his elbow. Oneby one the crew crowded into the corridor and watched in tense silence.     The automatic lock clicked off as the jet room returned to habitableconditions, and at Captain Reno's gesture two men swung the door open.Quickly the commander entered the blasted jet room. Barry Barr wasclose behind him.     Robson Hind, jet chief of Four and electronics expert for Venus Colony,hung back until others had gone in first. His handsome, heavy face hadlost its usual ruddiness.     Captain Reno surveyed the havoc. Young Ryan's body floated eerily inthe zero gravity, charred into instant death by the back-blast. Theline accelerator was a shapeless ruin, but except for broken meterglasses and scorched control handles other mechanical damage appearedminor. They had been lucky.     Turnover starts in six hours twelve minutes, the captain saidmeaningfully.     Robson Hind cleared his throat. We can change accelerators in twohours, he declared. With a quick reassumption of authority he began toorder his crew into action.     It took nearer three hours than two to change accelerators despiteHind's shouted orders.     At last the job was completed. Hind made a final check, floated over tothe control panel and started the fuel feed. With a confident smile hethrew in the accelerator switch.     The meter needles climbed, soared past the red lines without pausing,and just in time to prevent a second blowback, Hind cut the power.           There's metal in the field!      His voice was high and unsteady.  <doc-sep>The following day was our seventh in the swamp. The water hereresembled a vast mosaic, striped and cross-striped with long windingribbons of yellowish substance that floated a few inches below thesurface. The mold balls coming into contact with the evonium water ofthe swamp had undergone a chemical change and evolved into a cohesivemulti-celled marine life that lived and died within a space of hours.The Venusians paddled with extreme care. Had one of them dipped hishand into one of those yellow streaks, he would have been devoured ina matter of seconds.     At high noon by my Earth watch I sighted a low white structure on oneof the distant islands. Moments later we made a landing at a rudejetty, and Grannie Annie was introducing me to Ezra Karn.     He was not as old a man as I had expected, but he was ragged andunkempt with iron gray hair falling almost to his shoulders. He wasdressed in      varpa     cloth, the Venus equivalent of buckskin, and on hishead was an enormous flop-brimmed hat.     Glad to meet you, he said, shaking my hand. Any friend of MissFlowers is a friend of mine. He ushered us down the catwalk into hishut.     The place was a two room affair, small but comfortable. The latesttype of visi set in one corner showed that Karn was not isolated fromcivilization entirely.     Grannie Annie came to the point abruptly. When she had explained theobject of our trip, the prospector became thoughtful.     Green Flames, eh? he repeated slowly. Well yes, I suppose I couldfind that space ship again. That is, if I wanted to.     What do you mean? Grannie paused in the act of rolling herself acigarette. You know where it is, don't you?     Ye-s, Karn nodded. But like I told you before, that ship lies inVarsoom country, and that isn't exactly a summer vacation spot.     What are the Varsoom? I asked. A native tribe?     Karn shook his head. They're a form of life that's never been seen byEarthmen. Strictly speaking, they're no more than a form of energy.     Dangerous?     Yes and no. Only man I ever heard of who escaped their country outsideof myself was the explorer, Darthier, three years ago. I got awaybecause I was alone, and they didn't notice me, and Darthier escapedbecause he made 'em laugh.     Laugh? A scowl crossed Grannie's face.     That's right, Karn said. The Varsoom have a strange nervous reactionthat's manifested by laughing. But just what it is that makes themlaugh, I don't know.     Food supplies and fresh drinking water were replenished at the hut.Several mold guns were borrowed from the prospector's supply to arm theVenusians. And then as we were about to leave, Karn suddenly turned.     The Doctor Universe program, he said. I ain't missed one in months.You gotta wait 'til I hear it.     Grannie frowned in annoyance, but the prospector was adamant. Heflipped a stud, twisted a dial and a moment later was leaning back in achair, listening with avid interest.     It was the same show I had witnessed back in Swamp City. Once again Iheard questions filter in from the far outposts of the System. Onceagain I saw the commanding figure of the quiz master as he strode backand forth across the stage. And as I sat there, looking into the visiscreen, a curious numbing drowsiness seemed to steal over me and leadmy thoughts far away.  <doc-sep>The stern, white haired I.S.P. Commander behind the immense Aluminildesk, frowned slightly as Dennis Brooke entered. He eyed the six footfour frame of the Captain before him with a mixture of feelings, asif uncertain how to begin. Finally, he sighed as if, having come to adecision, he were forcing himself to speak:     Sit down, Dennis. I've sent for you, despite your grounding, fortwo reasons. The first one you already know—your capture of one ofKoerber's henchmen—has given us a line as to his present orbit ofpiracy, and the means of a check on his activities. But that's notreally why I've brought you here. He frowned again as if what he hadto say were difficult indeed.     Marla Starland, your fiancee, accepted an assignment we offered her—adelicate piece of work here on Terra that only a very beautiful, andvery clever young lady could perform. And, he paused, grimacing,somewhere between Venus and Terra, the interplanetary spacer bringingher and several other passengers, began to send distress signals.Finally, we couldn't contact the ship any more. It is three daysoverdue. All passengers, a cargo of radium from Venus worth untoldmillions, the spacer itself—seem to have vanished.     Dennis Brooke's space-tanned features had gone pale. His large hazeleyes, fringed with auburn lashes, too long for a man, were bright slitsthat smouldered. He stood silent, his hands clenched at his sides,while something cold and sharp seemed to dig at his heart with cruelprecision.     Marla! He breathed at last. The thought of Marla in the powerof Koerber sent a wave of anguish that seared through him like anatom-blast.     Commander, Dennis said, and his rich baritone voice had depths ofemotion so great that they startled Commander Bertram himself—andthat grizzled veteran of the I.S.P., had at one time or another knownevery change of torture that could possibly be wrung on a human soul.Commander, give me one ...      one     chance at that spawn of unthinkablebegetting! Let me try, and I promise you ... in his torture, Denniswas unconsciously banging a knotted fist on the chaste, satiny surfaceof the priceless desk, I promise you that I will either bring youKoerber, or forfeit my life!     Commander Bertram nodded his head. I brought you here for thatpurpose, son. We have reached a point in our war with Koerber, wherethe last stakes must be played ... and the last stake is death!     He reached over and flipped up the activator on a small telecast seton his desk; instantly the viso-screen lighted up. You'll now seea visual record of all we know about the passenger spacer that leftVenus with passengers and cargo, as far as we could contact the vesselin space. This, Dennis, the Commander emphasized his words, is yourchance to redeem yourself! He fell silent, while the viso-screen beganto show a crowded space port on Venus, and a gigantic passenger spacerup-tilted in its cradle.  <doc-sep>The blazing disc of Sol, the minor globes of the planets, the unwinkingpinpoints of the stars, all stared with cosmic disinterest at the tinyfigure crawling along the hull. His spacesuit trapped and amplifiedbreathing and heartbeats into a roaring chaos that was an invitationto blind panic, and all the while there was consciousness of theinsidiously deadly Sigma radiations.     Barry found the debris of the meteorite, an ugly shining splotchagainst the dull superceramic tube, readied his power chisel, startedcutting. Soon it became a tedious, torturingly strenuous manual taskrequiring little conscious thought, and Barry's mind touched briefly onthe events that had brought him here.     First Luna, and that had been murderous. Man had encountered Sigmafor the first time, and many had died before the Kendall-shield wasperfected. And the chemical-fueled rockets of those days had beeninherently poor.     Hoskins semi-atomics had made possible the next step—to Mars. But menhad found Mars barren, swept clear of all life in the cataclysm thathad shattered the trans-Martian planet to form the Asteroid Belt.     Venus, its true surface forever hidden by enshrouding mists, had beenwell within one-way range. But Hoskins fuel requirements for a roundtrip added up to something beyond critical mass. Impossible.     But the Five Ship Plan had evolved, a joint enterprise of governmentand various private groups. Five vessels were to go out, each fueledto within a whiskered neutron of spontaneous detonation, manned byspecialists who, it was hoped, could maintain themselves under alienconditions.     On Venus the leftover fuel from all five would be transferred towhichever ship had survived the outbound voyage in best condition.That one would return to Earth. Permanent base or homeward voyage withcolonists crowded aboard like defeated sardines? Only time would tell.     Barry Barr had volunteered, and because the enlightened guesses of theexperts called for men and women familiar with tropical conditions,he had survived the rigorous weeding-out process. His duties in VenusColony would be to refabricate the discarded ships into whatever formwas most needed—most particularly a launching ramp—and to studynative Venusian materials.     Dorothy Voorhees had signed on as toxicologist and dietician. When thelimited supply of Earth food ran out the Colony would be forced torely upon Venusian plants and animals. She would guard against subtledelayed-action poisons, meanwhile devising ways of preparing Venusianmaterials to suit Earth tastes and digestions.     Barry had met her at Training Base and known at once that his years ofloneliness had come to an end.     She seemed utterly independent, self-contained, completely intellectualdespite her beauty, but Barry had not been deceived. From the momentof first meeting he had sensed within her deep springs of suppressedemotion, and he had understood. He too had come up the hard way, alone,and been forced to develop a shell of hardness and cold, single-mindeddevotion to his work. Gradually, often unwillingly under hisinsistence, her aloofness had begun to melt.     But Robson Hind too had been attracted. He was the only son of thebusiness manager of the great Hoskins Corporation which carrieda considerable share in the Five Ship Plan. Dorothy's failure tovirtually fall into his arms had only piqued his desires.     The man's smooth charm had fascinated the girl and his money had openedto her an entirely new world of lavish nightclubs and extravagantlyexpensive entertainments, but her inborn shrewdness had sensed somefactor in his personality that had made her hesitate.     Barry had felt a distrust of Hind apart from the normal dislike ofrivalry. He had looked forward to being with Dorothy aboard Three, andhad made no secret of his satisfaction when Hind's efforts to havehimself transferred to Three also or the girl to Four had failed.     But then a scaffold had slipped while Three was being readied, and witha fractured ankle he had been forced to miss the ship.     He unclipped the magnetic detector from his belt and ran it inch byinch over the nozzle. He found one spot of metal, pinhead-sized, butenough to cause trouble, and once more swung his power chisel intostuttering action.     Then it was done.     As quickly as possible he inched back to the airlock. Turnover had tostart according to calculations.  <doc-sep>I crept up to the porthole nearest it and could just barely make outthe stern jets where it was plastered against the hull. Then I walkedunder the sign and tried to figure the way you were supposed to getinto it. There was a very thin line going around in a big circle that Iknew must be the door. But I couldn't see any knobs or switches to openit with. Not even a button you could press.     That meant it was a sonic lock like the kind we had on the outer keepsback home in Undersea. But knock or voice? I tried the two knockcombinations I knew, and nothing happened. I only remembered one voicekey—might as well see if that's it, I figured.     Twenty, Twenty-three. Open Sesame.     For a second, I thought I'd hit it just right out of all the millionpossible combinations—The door clicked inward toward a black hole, anda hairy hand as broad as my shoulders shot out of the hole. It closedaround my throat and plucked me inside as if I'd been a baby sardine.     I bounced once on the hard lifeboat floor. Before I got my breath andsat up, the door had been shut again. When the light came on, I foundmyself staring up the muzzle of a highly polished blaster and into thecold blue eyes of the biggest man I'd ever seen.       He was wearing a one-piece suit made of some scaly green stuff thatlooked hard and soft at the same time.     His boots were made of it too, and so was the hood hanging down hisback.     And his face was brown. Not just ordinary tan, you understand, but thedeep, dark, burned-all-the-way-in brown I'd seen on the lifeguardsin New Orleans whenever we took a surface vacation—the kind of tanthat comes from day after broiling day under a really hot Sun. Hishair looked as if it had once been blond, but now there were just longcombed-out waves with a yellowish tinge that boiled all the way downto his shoulders.     I hadn't seen hair like that on a man except maybe in history books;every man I'd ever known had his hair cropped in the fashionablesoup-bowl style. I was staring at his hair, almost forgetting about theblaster which I knew it was against the law for him to have at all,when I suddenly got scared right through.     His eyes.     They didn't blink and there seemed to be no expression around them.Just coldness. Maybe it was the kind of clothes he was wearing that didit, but all of a sudden I was reminded of a crocodile I'd seen in asurface zoo that had stared quietly at me for twenty minutes until itopened two long tooth-studded jaws.     Green shatas! he said suddenly. Only a tadpole. I must be gettingjumpy enough to splash.     Then he shoved the blaster away in a holster made of the same scalyleather, crossed his arms on his chest and began to study me. I gruntedto my feet, feeling a lot better. The coldness had gone out of his eyes.     I held out my hand the way Sis had taught me. My name is FerdinandSparling. I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr.—Mr.—     Hope for your sake, he said to me, that you aren't what youseem—tadpole brother to one of them husbandless anura.           What?          A 'nuran is a female looking to nest. Anura is a herd of same. Comefrom Flatfolk ways.     Flatfolk are the Venusian natives, aren't they? Are you a Venusian?What part of Venus do you come from? Why did you say you hope—     He chuckled and swung me up into one of the bunks that lined thelifeboat. Questions you ask, he said in his soft voice. Venus is asharp enough place for a dryhorn, let alone a tadpole dryhorn with aboss-minded sister.     I'm not a dryleg, I told him proudly.       We're     from Undersea.           Dryhorn     , I said, not dryleg. And what's Undersea?     Well, in Undersea we called foreigners and newcomers drylegs. Justlike on Venus, I guess, you call them dryhorns. And then I told himhow Undersea had been built on the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico, whenthe mineral resources of the land began to give out and engineersfigured that a lot could still be reached from the sea bottoms.  <doc-sep>For a moment the old lady sat there in silence; then she leaned back,closed her eyes, and I knew there was a story coming.     My last book,      Death In The Atom     , hit the stands last January,she began. When it was finished I had planned to take a six months'vacation, but those fool publishers of mine insisted I do a sequel.Well, I'd used Mars and Pluto and Ganymede as settings for novels, sofor this one I decided on Venus. I went to Venus City, and I spent sixweeks in-country. I got some swell background material, and I met EzraKarn....     Who? I interrupted.     An old prospector who lives out in the deep marsh on the outskirts ofVarsoom country. To make a long story short, I got him talking abouthis adventures, and he told me plenty.     The old woman paused. Did you ever hear of the Green Flames? sheasked abruptly.     I shook my head. Some new kind of ...     It's not a new kind of anything. The Green Flame is a radio-activerock once found on Mercury. The      Alpha     rays of this rock are similarto radium in that they consist of streams of material particlesprojected at high speed. But the character of the      Gamma     rays hasnever been completely analyzed. Like those set up by radium, they areelectromagnetic pulsations, but they are also a strange combination of      Beta     or cathode rays with negatively charged electrons.     When any form of life is exposed to these      Gamma     rays from the GreenFlame rock, they produce in the creature's brain a certain lassitudeand lack of energy. As the period of exposure increases, this conditiondevelops into a sense of impotence and a desire for leadership orguidance. Occasionally, as with the weak-willed, there is a spirit ofintolerance. The Green Flames might be said to be an inorganic opiate,a thousand times more subtle and more powerful than any known drug.     I was sitting up now, hanging on to the woman's every word.     Now in 2710, as you'd know if you studied your history, the threeplanets of Earth, Venus, and Mars were under governmental bondage. Thecruel dictatorship of Vennox I was short-lived, but it lasted longenough to endanger all civilized life.     The archives tell us that one of the first acts of the overthrowinggovernment was to cast out all Green Flames, two of which Vennox hadordered must be kept in each household. The effect on the people wasimmediate. Representative government, individual enterprise, freedomfollowed.     Grannie Annie lit a cigarette and flipped the match to the floor.     To go back to my first trip to Venus. As I said, I met Ezra Karn, anold prospector there in the marsh. Karn told me that on one of histravels into the Varsoom district he had come upon the wreckage ofan old space ship. The hold of that space ship was packed with GreenFlames!     If Grannie expected me to show surprise at that, she was disappointed.I said, So what?     So everything, Billy-boy. Do you realize what such a thing would meanif it were true? Green Flames were supposedly destroyed on all planetsafter the Vennox regime crashed. If a quantity of the rock were inexistence, and it fell into the wrong hands, there'd be trouble.     Of course, I regarded Karn's story as a wild dream, but it madecorking good story material. I wrote it into a novel, and a week afterit was completed, the manuscript was stolen from my study back onEarth.     I see, I said as she lapsed into silence. And now you've come to theconclusion that the details of your story were true and that someone isattempting to put your plot into action.     Grannie nodded. Yes, she said. That's exactly what I think.     I got my pipe out of my pocket, tamped Martian tobacco into the bowland laughed heartily. The same old Flowers, I said. Tell me, who'syour thief ... Doctor Universe?     She regarded me evenly. What makes you say that?     I shrugged.     The way the theater crowd acted. It all ties in.     The old woman shook her head. No, this is a lot bigger than a simplequiz program. The theater crowd was but a cross-section of what ishappening all over the System. There have been riots on Earth and Mars,police officials murdered on Pluto and a demand that government byrepresentation be abolished on Jupiter. The time is ripe for a militarydictator to step in.     And you can lay it all to the Green Flames. It seems incredible that asingle shipload of the ore could effect such a wide ranged area, but inmy opinion someone has found a means of making that quantity a thousandtimes more potent and is transmiting it      en masse     .     If it had been anyone but Grannie Annie there before me, I wouldhave called her a fool. And then all at once I got an odd feeling ofapproaching danger.     Let's get out of here, I said, getting up.       Zinnng-whack!       All right!     On the mirror behind the bar a small circle with radiating cracksappeared. On the booth wall a scant inch above Grannie's head thefresco seemed to melt away suddenly.     A heat ray!     Grannie Annie leaped to her feet, grasped my arm and raced for thedoor. Outside a driverless hydrocar stood with idling motors. The oldwoman threw herself into the control seat, yanked me in after her andthrew over the starting stud.     An instant later we were plunging through the dark night.  <doc-sep>I’d been interested in the Brightside for almost as long asI can remember (Claney said). I guess I was about ten whenWyatt and Carpenter made the last attempt—that was in 2082,I think. I followed the news stories like a tri-V serial and thenI was heartbroken when they just disappeared.     I know now that they were a pair of idiots, starting off withoutproper equipment, with practically no knowledge of surfaceconditions, without any charts—they couldn’t have madea hundred miles—but I didn’t know that then and it was aterrible tragedy. After that, I followed Sanderson’s work in theTwilight Lab up there and began to get Brightside into myblood, sure as death.     But it was Mikuta’s idea to attempt a Crossing. Did you everknow Tom Mikuta? I don’t suppose you did. No, not Japanese—Polish-American.He was a major in the Interplanetary Servicefor some years and hung onto the title after he gave uphis commission.     He was with Armstrong on Mars during his Service days,did a good deal of the original mapping and surveying forthe Colony there. I first met him on Venus; we spent fiveyears together up there doing some of the nastiest exploringsince the Matto Grasso. Then he made the attempt on VulcanCrater that paved the way for Balmer a few years later.     I’d always liked the Major—he was big and quiet and cool,the sort of guy who always had things figured a little furtherahead than anyone else and always knew what to do in a tightplace. Too many men in this game are all nerve and luck,with no judgment. The Major had both. He also had the kindof personality that could take a crew of wild men andmake them work like a well-oiled machine across a thousandmiles of Venus jungle. I liked him and I trusted him.     He contacted me in New York and he was very casual atfirst. We spent an evening here at the Red Lion, talking aboutold times; he told me about the Vulcan business, and how he’dbeen out to see Sanderson and the Twilight Lab on Mercury,and how he preferred a hot trek to a cold one any day of theyear—and then he wanted to know what I’d been doing sinceVenus and what my plans were.     “No particular plans,” I told him. “Why?”     He looked me over. “How much do you weigh, Peter?”     I told him one-thirty-five.     “That much!” he said. “Well, there can’t be much fat onyou, at any rate. How do you take heat?”     “You should know,” I said. “Venus was no icebox.”     “No, I mean      real     heat.”     Then I began to get it. “You’re planning a trip.”     “That’s right. A hot trip.” He grinned at me. “Might bedangerous, too.”     “What trip?”     “Brightside of Mercury,” the Major said.     I whistled cautiously. “At aphelion?”     He threw his head back. “Why try a Crossing at aphelion?What have you done then? Four thousand miles of butcherousheat, just to have some joker come along, use your data anddrum you out of the glory by crossing at perihelion forty-fourdays later? No, thanks. I want the Brightside without any nonsenseabout it.” He leaned across me eagerly. “I want to makea Crossing at perihelion and I want to cross on the surface. Ifa man can do that, he’s got Mercury. Until then,      nobody’s     gotMercury. I want Mercury—but I’ll need help getting it.”     I’d thought of it a thousand times and never dared considerit. Nobody had, since Wyatt and Carpenter disappeared. Mercuryturns on its axis in the same time that it wheels aroundthe Sun, which means that the Brightside is always facing in.That makes the Brightside of Mercury at perihelion the hottestplace in the Solar System, with one single exception: thesurface of the Sun itself.     It would be a hellish trek. Only a few men had ever learnedjust      how     hellish and they never came back to tell about it. Itwas a real hell’s Crossing, but someday, I thought, somebodywould cross it.     I wanted to be along.  <doc-sep>She nodded. There are quite a few of us now—about a thousand—and adozen ships. Our base used to be here on Venus, down toward the Pole.The dome we're in now was designed and built by us a few years agoafter we got pushed off Mars. We lost a few men in the construction,but with almost every advance in space, someone dies.     Venus is getting too civilized. We're moving out and this dome is onlya temporary base when we have cases like yours. The new base—I mightas well tell you it's going to be an asteroid. I won't say which one.     Don't get the idea that we're outlaws. Sure, about half our group iswanted by the Bureau, but we make honest livings. We're just peoplelike yourself and Jacob.     Jacob? Your husband?     She laughed. Makes you think of a Biblical character, doesn't it?Jacob's anything but that. And just plain 'Jake' reminds one of agrizzled old uranium prospector and he isn't like that, either.     She lit a cigarette. Anyway, the wanted ones stay out beyond thefrontiers. Jacob and those like him can never return to Earth—not evento Hoover City—except dead. The others are physical or psycho rejectswho couldn't get clearance if they went back to Earth. They knownothing but rocketing and won't give up. They bring in our ships tofrontier ports like Hoover City to unload cargo and take on supplies.     Don't the authorities object?     Not very strongly. The I. B. I. has too many problems right here tosearch the whole System for a few two-bit crooks. Besides, we carrycargoes of almost pure uranium and tungsten and all the stuff that'sscarce on Earth and Mars and Venus. Nobody really cares whether itcomes from the asteroids or Hades. If we want to risk our lives miningit, that's our business.     She pursed her lips. But if they guessed how strong we are or that wehave friends planted in the I. B. I.—well, things might be different.There probably would be a crackdown.     Ben scowled. What happens if there      is     a crackdown? And what will youdo when Space Corps ships officially reach the asteroids? They can'tignore you then.     Then we move on. We dream up new gimmicks for our crates and take themto Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto. In time, maybe, we'll bepushed out of the System itself. Maybe it won't be the white-suitedboys who'll make that first hop to the stars. It      could     be us, youknow—if we live long enough. But that Asteroid Belt is murder. Youcan't follow the text-book rules of astrogation out there. You make upyour own.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is known about the life forms inhabiting the surface of Venus, as described in THE LOST TRIBES OF VENUS?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the story of Robson Hind in THE LOST TRIBES OF VENUS? [SEP] <s>  THE LOST TRIBES OF VENUS     By ERIK FENNEL       On mist-shrouded Venus, where hostile       swamp meets hostile sea ... there did       Barry Barr—Earthman transmuted—swap       his Terran heritage for the deep dark       waters of Tana; for the strangely       beautiful Xintel of the blue-brown skin.       [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories May 1954.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Evil luck brought the meteorite to those particular space-timecoordinates as Number Four rode the downhill spiral toward Venus. Thefootball-sized chunk of nickel-iron and rock overtook the ship at arelative speed of only a few hundred miles per hour and passed closeenough to come within the tremendous pseudo-gravatic fields of theidling drivers.     It swerved into a paraboloid course, following the flux lines, and wasdragged directly against one of the three projecting nozzles. Energyof motion was converted to heat and a few meteoric fragments fusedthemselves to the nonmetallic tube casing.     In the jet room the positronic line accelerator for that particulardriver fouled under the intolerable overload, and the backsurge sentsearing heat and deadly radiation blasting through the compartmentbefore the main circuit breakers could clack open.     The bellow of the alarm horn brought Barry Barr fully awake, shatteringa delightfully intimate dream of the dark haired girl he hoped to seeagain soon in Venus Colony. As he unbuckled his bunk straps and startedaft at a floating, bounding run his weightlessness told him instantlythat Number Four was in free fall with dead drivers.     Red warning lights gleamed wickedly above the safety-locked jetroom door, and Nick Podtiaguine, the air machines specialist, wasmanipulating the emergency controls with Captain Reno at his elbow. Oneby one the crew crowded into the corridor and watched in tense silence.     The automatic lock clicked off as the jet room returned to habitableconditions, and at Captain Reno's gesture two men swung the door open.Quickly the commander entered the blasted jet room. Barry Barr wasclose behind him.     Robson Hind, jet chief of Four and electronics expert for Venus Colony,hung back until others had gone in first. His handsome, heavy face hadlost its usual ruddiness.     Captain Reno surveyed the havoc. Young Ryan's body floated eerily inthe zero gravity, charred into instant death by the back-blast. Theline accelerator was a shapeless ruin, but except for broken meterglasses and scorched control handles other mechanical damage appearedminor. They had been lucky.     Turnover starts in six hours twelve minutes, the captain saidmeaningfully.     Robson Hind cleared his throat. We can change accelerators in twohours, he declared. With a quick reassumption of authority he began toorder his crew into action.     It took nearer three hours than two to change accelerators despiteHind's shouted orders.     At last the job was completed. Hind made a final check, floated over tothe control panel and started the fuel feed. With a confident smile hethrew in the accelerator switch.     The meter needles climbed, soared past the red lines without pausing,and just in time to prevent a second blowback, Hind cut the power.           There's metal in the field!      His voice was high and unsteady.  <doc-sep>Everyone knew what that meant. The slightest trace of magnetic materialwould distort the delicately balanced cylinder of force that containedand directed the Hoskins blast, making it suicidal to operate.     Calmly Captain Reno voiced the thought in every mind.     It must be cleared. From the outside.     Several of the men swore under their breaths. Interplanetary spacewas constantly bombarded, with an intensity inverse to the prevailinggravitation, by something called Sigma radiation. Man had neverencountered it until leaving Earth, and little was known of itexcept that short exposure killed test animals and left their bodiesunpredictably altered.     Inside the ship it was safe enough, for the sleek hull was charged witha Kendall power-shield, impervious to nearly any Sigma concentration.But the shielding devices in the emergency spacesuits were smalland had never been space-tested in a region of nearly equalizedgravitations.     The man who emerged from the airlock would be flipping a coin with aparticularly unpleasant form of death.     Many pairs of eyes turned toward Robson Hind. He was jet chief.     I'm assigned, not expendable, he protested hastily. If there weremore trouble later.... His face was pasty.     Assigned. That was the key word. Barry Barr felt a lump tighteningin his stomach as the eyes shifted to him. He had some training inHoskins drivers. He knew alloys and power tools. And he was riding Fourunassigned after that broken ankle had made him miss Three. He was thelogical man.     For the safety of the ship. That phrase, taken from the ancientEarthbound code of the sea, had occurred repeatedly in theindoctrination manual at Training Base. He remembered it, andremembered further the contingent plans regarding assigned andunassigned personnel.     For a moment he stood indecisively, the nervous, unhumorous smilequirking across his angular face making him look more like an untriedboy than a structural engineer who had fought his way up through someof the toughest tropical construction camps of Earth. His lean body,built more for quick, neatly coordinated action than brute power,balanced handily in the zero gravity as he ran one hand through hissandy hair in a gesture of uncertainty.     He knew that not even the captain would order him through the airlock.     But the members of the Five Ship Plan had been selected in part for asense of responsibility.     Nick, will you help me button up? he asked with forced calmness.     For an instant he thought he detected a sly gleam in Hind's eyes. Butthen the jet chief was pressing forward with the others to shake hishand.     Rebellious reluctance flared briefly in Barry's mind. Dorothy Voorheeshad refused to make a definite promise before blasting off in Three—infact he hadn't even seen her during her last few days on Earth. Butstill he felt he had the inside track despite Hind's money and thebrash assurance that went with it. But if Hind only were to reach Venusalive—  <doc-sep>The blazing disc of Sol, the minor globes of the planets, the unwinkingpinpoints of the stars, all stared with cosmic disinterest at the tinyfigure crawling along the hull. His spacesuit trapped and amplifiedbreathing and heartbeats into a roaring chaos that was an invitationto blind panic, and all the while there was consciousness of theinsidiously deadly Sigma radiations.     Barry found the debris of the meteorite, an ugly shining splotchagainst the dull superceramic tube, readied his power chisel, startedcutting. Soon it became a tedious, torturingly strenuous manual taskrequiring little conscious thought, and Barry's mind touched briefly onthe events that had brought him here.     First Luna, and that had been murderous. Man had encountered Sigmafor the first time, and many had died before the Kendall-shield wasperfected. And the chemical-fueled rockets of those days had beeninherently poor.     Hoskins semi-atomics had made possible the next step—to Mars. But menhad found Mars barren, swept clear of all life in the cataclysm thathad shattered the trans-Martian planet to form the Asteroid Belt.     Venus, its true surface forever hidden by enshrouding mists, had beenwell within one-way range. But Hoskins fuel requirements for a roundtrip added up to something beyond critical mass. Impossible.     But the Five Ship Plan had evolved, a joint enterprise of governmentand various private groups. Five vessels were to go out, each fueledto within a whiskered neutron of spontaneous detonation, manned byspecialists who, it was hoped, could maintain themselves under alienconditions.     On Venus the leftover fuel from all five would be transferred towhichever ship had survived the outbound voyage in best condition.That one would return to Earth. Permanent base or homeward voyage withcolonists crowded aboard like defeated sardines? Only time would tell.     Barry Barr had volunteered, and because the enlightened guesses of theexperts called for men and women familiar with tropical conditions,he had survived the rigorous weeding-out process. His duties in VenusColony would be to refabricate the discarded ships into whatever formwas most needed—most particularly a launching ramp—and to studynative Venusian materials.     Dorothy Voorhees had signed on as toxicologist and dietician. When thelimited supply of Earth food ran out the Colony would be forced torely upon Venusian plants and animals. She would guard against subtledelayed-action poisons, meanwhile devising ways of preparing Venusianmaterials to suit Earth tastes and digestions.     Barry had met her at Training Base and known at once that his years ofloneliness had come to an end.     She seemed utterly independent, self-contained, completely intellectualdespite her beauty, but Barry had not been deceived. From the momentof first meeting he had sensed within her deep springs of suppressedemotion, and he had understood. He too had come up the hard way, alone,and been forced to develop a shell of hardness and cold, single-mindeddevotion to his work. Gradually, often unwillingly under hisinsistence, her aloofness had begun to melt.     But Robson Hind too had been attracted. He was the only son of thebusiness manager of the great Hoskins Corporation which carrieda considerable share in the Five Ship Plan. Dorothy's failure tovirtually fall into his arms had only piqued his desires.     The man's smooth charm had fascinated the girl and his money had openedto her an entirely new world of lavish nightclubs and extravagantlyexpensive entertainments, but her inborn shrewdness had sensed somefactor in his personality that had made her hesitate.     Barry had felt a distrust of Hind apart from the normal dislike ofrivalry. He had looked forward to being with Dorothy aboard Three, andhad made no secret of his satisfaction when Hind's efforts to havehimself transferred to Three also or the girl to Four had failed.     But then a scaffold had slipped while Three was being readied, and witha fractured ankle he had been forced to miss the ship.     He unclipped the magnetic detector from his belt and ran it inch byinch over the nozzle. He found one spot of metal, pinhead-sized, butenough to cause trouble, and once more swung his power chisel intostuttering action.     Then it was done.     As quickly as possible he inched back to the airlock. Turnover had tostart according to calculations.  <doc-sep>Barry developed definite external signs of what the Sigma radiation haddone to him. The skin between his fingers and toes spread, grew intomembranous webs. The swellings in his neck became more pronounced anddark parallel lines appeared.     But despite the doctor's pessimistic reports that the changes had notstopped, Barry continued to tell himself he was recovering. He hadto believe and keep on believing to retain sanity in the face of theweird, unclassifiable feelings that surged through his body. Stillhe was subject to fits of almost suicidal depression, and Dorothy'sfailure to visit him did not help his mental condition.     Then one day he woke from a nap and thought he was still dreaming.Dorothy was leaning over him.     Barry! Barry! she whispered. I can't help it. I love you even if youdo have a wife and child in Philadelphia. I know it's wrong but allthat seems so far away it doesn't matter any more. Tears glistened inher eyes.     Huh? he grunted. Who? Me?     Please, Barry, don't lie. She wrote to me before Three blastedoff—oh, the most piteous letter!     Barry was fully awake now. I'm not married. I have no child.I've never been in Philadelphia, he shouted. His lips thinned.I—think—I—know—who—wrote—that—letter! he declared grimly.     Robson wouldn't! she objected, shocked, but there was a note of doubtin her voice.     Then she was in his arms, sobbing openly.     I believe you, Barry.     She stayed with him for hours, and she had changed since the daysat Training Base. Long months away from the patterned restraints ofcivilization, living each day on the edge of unknown perils, hadawakened in her the realization that she was a human being and awoman, as well as a toxicologist.     When the water-mist finally forced her departure she left Barry joyousand confident of his eventual recovery. For a few minutes angersimmered in his brain as he contemplated the pleasure of rearrangingRobson Hind's features.     The accident with the scaffold had been remarkably convenient, butthis time the ruthless, restless, probably psychopathic drive that hadmade Robson Hind more than just another rich man's spoiled son hadcarried him too far. Barry wondered whether it had been inefficiency orjudiciously distributed money that had made the psychometrists overlooksome undesirable traits in Hind's personality in accepting him for theFive Ship Plan.     But even with his trickery Hind had lost.     He slept, and woke with a feeling of doom.     The slow Venusian twilight had ended in blackness and the overheadtubelight was off.     He sat up, and apprehension gave way to burning torture in his chest.     Silence! He fumbled for the light switch, then knelt beside the mistmachine that no longer hummed. Power and water supplies were both dead,cut off outside his room.     Floating droplets were merging and falling to the floor. Soon the airwould be dry, and he would be choking and strangling. He turned to callfor help.     The door was locked!     He tugged and the knob came away in his hand. The retaining screw hadbeen removed.     He beat upon the panel, first with his fists and then with the metaldoorknob, but the insulation between the double alloy sheets wasefficient soundproofing. Furiously he hurled himself upon it, only tobounce back with a bruised shoulder. He was trapped.     Working against time and eventual death he snatched a metal chairand swung with all his force at the window, again, again, yet again.A small crack appeared in the transparent plastic, branched undercontinued hammering, became a rough star. He gathered his waningstrength, then swung once more. The tough plastic shattered.     He tugged at the jagged pieces still clinging to the frame. Fog-ladenVenusian air poured in—but it was not enough!     He dragged himself head first through the narrow opening, landedsprawling on hands and knees in the darkness. In his ears a confusedrustling drone from the alien swamp mingled with the roar ofapproaching unconsciousness.     There was a smell in his nostrils. The smell of water. He lurchedforward at a shambling run, stumbling over the uneven ground.     Then he plunged from the rocky ledge into the slough. Flashes ofcolored light flickered before his eyes as he went under. But Earthhabits were still strong; instinctively he held his breath.     Then he fainted. Voluntary control of his body vanished. His mouth hungslack and the breathing reflex that had been an integral part of hislife since the moment of birth forced him to inhale.     Bubbles floated upward and burst. Then Barry Barr was lying in the oozeof the bottom. And he was breathing, extracting vital oxygen from thebrackish, silt-clouded water.      III     Slowly his racing heartbeat returned to normal. Gradually he becameaware of the stench of decaying plants and of musky taints he knewinstinctively were the scents of underwater animals. Then with a shockthe meaning became clear. He had become a water-breather, cut off fromall other Earthmen, no longer entirely human. His fellows in the colonywere separated from him now by a gulf more absolute than the airlessvoid between Earth and Venus.     Something slippery and alive touched him near one armpit. He openedhis eyes in the black water and his groping hand clutched somethingburrowing into his skin. With a shudder of revulsion he crushed a fatworm between his fingers.     Then dozens of them—hundreds—were upon him from all sides. He waswearing only a pair of khaki pants but the worms ignored his chest tocongregate around his face, intent on attacking the tender skin of hiseyelids.     For a minute his flailing hands fought them off, but they came inincreasing numbers and clung like leeches. Pain spread as they bit andburrowed, and blindly he began to swim.     Faster and faster. He could sense the winding banks of the slough andkept to midchannel, swimming with his eyes tightly closed. One by onethe worms dropped off.     He stopped, opened his eyes, not on complete darkness this time but ona faint blue-green luminescence from far below. The water was saltierhere, and clearer.     He had swum down the slough and out into the ocean. He tried to turnback, obsessed by a desire to be near the colony even though hecould not go ashore without strangling, but he had lost all sense ofdirection.     He was still weak and his lungs were not completely adjusted tounderwater life. Again he grew dizzy and faint. The slow movements ofhands and feet that held him just below the surface grew feeble andceased. He sank.     Down into dimly luminous water he dropped, and with his respiratorysystem completely water-filled there was no sensation of pressure. Atlast he floated gently to the bottom and lay motionless.     Shouting voices awakened him, an exultant battle cry cutting through agasping scream of anguish. Streaks of bright orange light were movingtoward him in a twisting pattern. At the head of each trail was afigure. A human figure that weaved and swam in deadly moving combat.One figure drifted limply bottomward.     Hallucination, Barry told himself. Then one of the figures broke fromthe group. Almost overhead it turned sharply downward and the feetmoved in a powerful flutter-kick. A slender spear aimed directly at theEarthman.     Barry threw himself aside. The spear point plunged deep into thesticky, yielding bottom and Barry grappled with its wielder.     Pointed fingernails raked his cheek. Barry's balled fist swungin a roundhouse blow but water resistance slowed the punch toineffectiveness. The creature only shook its head and came in kickingand clawing.     Barry braced his feet against the bottom and leaped. His head buttedthe attacker's chest and at the same instant he lashed a short jab tothe creature's belly. It slumped momentarily, its face working.     Human—or nearly so—the thing was, with a stocky, powerful body andwebbed hands and feet. A few scraps of clothing, seemingly worn morefor ornament than covering, clung to the fishbelly-white skin. The facewas coarse and savage.     It shook off the effects of Barry's punch and one webbed hand snatcheda short tube from its belt.     Barry remembered the spring-opening knife in his pocket, and even ashe flicked the blade out the tube-weapon fired. Sound thrummed in thewater and the water grew milky with a myriad of bubbles. Somethingzipped past his head, uncomfortably close.     Then Barry struck, felt his knife slice flesh and grate against bone.He struck again even as the undersea being screamed and went limp.     Barry stared through the reddening water.     Another figure plunged toward him. Barry jerked the dead Venusian'sspear from the mud and raised it defensively.     But the figure paid no attention. This one was a female who fleddesperately from two men closing in from opposite sides. One threw hisspear, using an odd pushing motion, and as she checked and dodged, theother was upon her from behind.     One arm went around her neck in a strangler's hold, bending her slenderbody backward. Together captor and struggling captive sank toward thebottom. The other recovered his thrown spear and moved in to helpsecure her arms and legs with lengths of cord.     One scooped up the crossbow the girl had dropped. The other ripped ather brief skirt and from her belt took a pair of tubes like the one thedead Venusian had fired at Barry, handling them as though they wereloot of the greatest value. He jerked cruelly at the slender metallicnecklace the girl wore but it did not break.     He punched the helpless girl in the abdomen with the butt of his spear.The girl writhed but she did not attempt to cry out.     Barry bounded toward them in a series of soaring leaps, knife and spearready. One Venusian turned to meet him, grinning maliciously.     Barry dug one foot into the bottom and sidestepped a spear thrust. Hisown lunge missed completely. Then he and the Venusian were inside eachother's spear points, chest to chest. A pointed hook strapped to theinside of the creature's wrist just missed Barry's throat. The Earthmanarched his body backward and his knife flashed upward. The creaturegasped and pulled away, clutching with both hands at a gaping wound inits belly.     The other one turned too late as Barry leaped.     Barry's hilt cracked against its jawbone.  <doc-sep>Barry opened his eyes. The ship was in normal deceleration and NickPodtiaguine was watching him from a nearby bunk.     I could eat a cow with the smallpox, Barry declared.     Nick grinned. No doubt. You slept around the clock and more. Nice jobof work out there.     Barry unhitched his straps and sat up.     Say, he asked anxiously. What's haywire with the air?     Nick looked startled. Nothing. Everything checked out when I came offwatch a few minutes ago.     Barry shrugged. Probably just me. Guess I'll go see if I can mooch ahandout.     He found himself a hero. The cook was ready to turn the galley insideout while a radio engineer and an entomologist hovered near to wait onhim. But he couldn't enjoy the meal. The sensations of heat and drynesshe had noticed on awakening grew steadily worse. It became difficult tobreathe.     He started to rise, and abruptly the room swirled and darkened aroundhim. Even as he sank into unconsciousness he knew the answer.     The suit's Kendall-shield had leaked!     Four plunged toward Venus tail first, the Hoskins jets flaring ahead.The single doctor for the Colony had gone out in Two and the crewmentrained in first aid could do little to relieve Barry's distress.Fainting spells alternated with fever and delirium and an unquenchablethirst. His breathing became increasingly difficult.     A few thousand miles out Four picked up a microbeam. A feeling ofexultation surged through the ship as Captain Reno passed the word, forthe beam meant that some Earthmen were alive upon Venus. They were notnecessarily diving straight toward oblivion. Barry, sick as he was,felt the thrill of the unknown world that lay ahead.     Into a miles-thick layer of opacity Four roared, with Captain Renohimself jockeying throttles to keep it balanced on its self-createdsupport of flame.     You're almost in, a voice chanted into his headphones throughcrackling, sizzling static. Easy toward spherical one-thirty. Hold it!Lower. Lower. CUT YOUR POWER!     The heavy hull dropped sickeningly, struck with a mushy thud, settled,steadied.     Barry was weak, but with Nick Podtiaguine steadying him he was waitingwith the others when Captain Reno gave the last order.     Airlock open. Both doors.     Venusian air poured in.     For this I left Panama? one of the men yelped.     Enough to gag a maggot, another agreed with hand to nose.     It was like mid-summer noon in a tropical mangrove swamp, hot andunbearably humid and overpowering with the stench of decayingvegetation.     But Barry took one deep breath, then another. The stabbing needles inhis chest blunted, and the choking band around his throat loosened.     The outer door swung wide. He blinked, and a shift in the encompassingvapors gave him his first sight of a world bathed in subdued light.     Four had landed in a marsh with the midships lock only a few feet abovea quagmire surface still steaming from the final rocket blast. Nearbythe identical hulls of Two and Three stood upright in the mud. Themist shifted again and beyond the swamp he could see the low, roundedoutlines of the collapsible buildings Two and Three had carried intheir cargo pits. They were set on a rock ledge rising a few feet outof the marsh. The Colony!     Men were tossing sections of lattice duckboard out upon the swamp,extending a narrow walkway toward Four's airlock, and within a fewminutes the new arrivals were scrambling down.     Barry paid little attention to the noisy greetings and excited talk.Impatiently he trotted toward the rock ledge, searching for oneparticular figure among the men and women who waited.     Dorothy! he said fervently.     Then his arms were around her and she was responding to his kiss.     Then unexpected pain tore at his chest. Her lovely face took on anexpression of fright even as it wavered and grew dim. The last thing hesaw was Robson Hind looming beside her.     By the glow of an overhead tubelight he recognized the kindly, deeplylined features of the man bending over him. Dr. Carl Jensen, specialistin tropical diseases. He tried to sit up but the doctor laid arestraining hand on his shoulder.     Water! Barry croaked.     The doctor held out a glass. Then his eyes widened incredulously as hispatient deliberately drew in a breath while drinking, sucking waterdirectly into his lungs.     Doctor, he asked, keeping his voice low to spare his throat. Whatare my chances? On the level.     Dr. Jensen shook his head thoughtfully. There's not a thing—not adamned solitary thing—I can do. It's something new to medical science.     Barry lay still.     Your body is undergoing certain radical changes, the doctorcontinued, and you know as much—more about your condition than I do.If a normal person who took water into his lungs that way didn't die ofa coughing spasm, congestive pneumonia would get him sure. But it seemsto give you relief.     Barry scratched his neck, where a thickened, darkening patch on eachside itched infuriatingly.     What are these changes? he asked. What's this?     Those things seem to be— the doctor began hesitantly. Damn it, Iknow it sounds crazy but they're rudimentary gills.     Barry accepted the outrageous statement unemotionally. He was beyondshock.     But there must be—     Pain struck again, so intense his body twisted and archedinvoluntarily. Then the prick of a needle brought merciful oblivion.      II     Barry's mind was working furiously. The changes the Sigma radiationshad inflicted upon his body might reverse themselves spontaneously, Dr.Jensen had mentioned during a second visit—but for that to happen hemust remain alive. That meant easing all possible strains.     When the doctor came in again Barry asked him to find Nick Podtiaguine.Within a few minutes the mechanic appeared.     Cheez, it's good to see you, Barry, he began.     Stuff it, the sick man interrupted. I want favors. Can do?     Nick nodded vigorously.     First cut that air conditioner and get the window open.     Nick stared as though he were demented, but obeyed, unbolting the heavyplastic window panel and lifting it aside. He made a face at the damp,malodorous Venusian air but to Barry it brought relief.     It was not enough, but it indicated he was on the right track. And hewas not an engineer for nothing.     Got a pencil? he asked.     He drew only a rough sketch, for Nick was far too competent to needdetailed drawings.     Think you can get materials?     Nick glanced at the sketch. Hell, man, for you I can get anything theColony has. You saved Four and everybody knows it.     Two days?     Nick looked insulted.     He was back in eight hours, and with him came a dozen helpers. Apower line and water tube were run through the metal partition to thecorridor, connections were made, and the machine Barry had sketched wasready.     Nick flipped the switch. The thing whined shrilly. From a fanshapednozzle came innumerable droplets of water, droplets of colloidal sizethat hung in the air and only slowly coalesced into larger drops thatfell toward the metal floor.     Barry nodded, a smile beginning to spread across his drawn features.     Perfect. Now put the window back.     Outside lay the unknown world of Venus, and an open, unguarded windowmight invite disaster.     A few hours later Dr. Jensen found his patient in a normal sleep. Theroom was warm and the air was so filled with water-mist it was almostliquid. Coalescing drops dripped from the walls and curving ceilingand furniture, from the half clad body of the sleeping man, and thescavenger pump made greedy gulping sounds as it removed excess waterfrom the floor.     The doctor shook his head as he backed out, his clothes clinging wetfrom the short exposure.     It was abnormal.     But so was Barry Barr.     With breathing no longer a continuous agony Barry began to recover someof his strength. But for several days much of his time was spent insleep and Dorothy Voorhees haunted his dreams.     Whenever he closed his eyes he could see her as clearly as thoughshe were with him—her face with the exotic high cheek-bones—hereyes a deep gray in fascinating contrast to her raven hair—lips thatseemed to promise more of giving than she had ever allowed herself tofulfil—her incongruously pert, humorous little nose that was a legacyfrom some venturesome Irishman—her slender yet firmly lithe body.     After a few days Dr. Jensen permitted him to have visitors. They camein a steady stream, the people from Four and men he had not seen sinceTraining Base days, and although none could endure his semi-liquidatmosphere more than a few minutes at a time Barry enjoyed their visits.     But the person for whom he waited most anxiously did not arrive. Ateach knock Barry's heart would leap, and each time he settled back witha sigh of disappointment. Days passed and still Dorothy did not cometo him. He could not go to her, and stubborn pride kept him from eveninquiring. All the while he was aware of Robson Hind's presence in theColony, and only weakness kept him from pacing his room like a cagedanimal.     Through his window he could see nothing but the gradual brighteningand darkening of the enveloping fog as the slow 82-hour Venusian dayprogressed, but from his visitors' words he learned something ofVenusian conditions and the story of the Colony.     Number One had bumbled in on visual, the pilot depending on the smearyimages of infra-sight goggles. An inviting grassy plain had proved tobe a layer of algae floating on quicksand. Frantically the crew hadblasted down huge balsa-like marsh trees, cutting up the trunks withflame guns to make crude rafts. They had performed fantastic feats ofstrength and endurance but managed to salvage only half their equipmentbefore the shining nose of One had vanished in the gurgling ooze.     Lost in a steaming, stinking marsh teeming with alien creatures thatslithered and crawled and swam and flew, blinded by the eternal fog,the crew had proved the rightness of their choice as pioneers. Forweeks they had floundered across the deadly terrain until at last,beside a stagnant-looking slough that drained sluggishly into a warm,almost tideless sea a mile away, they had discovered an outcropping ofrock. It was the only solid ground they had encountered.     One man had died, his swamp suit pierced by a poisonous thorn, but theothers had hand-hauled the radio beacon piece by piece and set it upin time to guide Two to a safe landing. Houses had been assembled, thesecondary power units of the spaceship put to work, and the colony hadestablished a tenuous foothold.     Three had landed beside Two a few months later, bringingreinforcements, but the day-by-day demands of the little colony'sstruggle for survival had so far been too pressing to permit extendedor detailed explorations. Venus remained a planet of unsolved mysteries.     The helicopter brought out in Three had made several flights whichby radar and sound reflection had placed vague outlines on the blankmaps. The surface appeared to be half water, with land masses mainlyjungle-covered swamp broken by a few rocky ledges, but landings awayfrom base had been judged too hazardous.     Test borings from the ledge had located traces of oil and radioactiveminerals, while enough Venusian plants had proven edible to provide anadequate though monotonous food source.     Venus was the diametric opposite of lifeless Mars. Through the foggigantic insects hummed and buzzed like lost airplanes, but fortunatelythey were harmless and timid.     In the swamps wildly improbable life forms grew and reproduced andfought and died, and many of those most harmless in appearancepossessed surprisingly venomous characteristics.     The jungle had been flamed away in a huge circle around the colony tominimize the chances of surprise by anything that might attack, but theblasting was an almost continuous process. The plants of Venus grewwith a vigor approaching fury.     Most spectacular of the Venusian creatures were the amphibious armoredmonsters, saurian or semi-saurians with a slight resemblance to thebrontosauri that had once lived on Earth, massive swamp-dwellers thatused the slough beside the colony's ledge as a highway. They wereapparently vegetarians, but thorough stupidity in tremendous bulk madethem dangerous. One had damaged a building by blundering against it,and since then the colony had remained alert, using weapons to repelthe beasts.     The most important question—that of the presence or absence ofintelligent, civilized Venusians—remained unanswered. Some of the menreported a disquieting feeling of being watched, particularly when nearopen water, but others argued that any intelligent creatures would haveestablished contact.  <doc-sep>The following day was our seventh in the swamp. The water hereresembled a vast mosaic, striped and cross-striped with long windingribbons of yellowish substance that floated a few inches below thesurface. The mold balls coming into contact with the evonium water ofthe swamp had undergone a chemical change and evolved into a cohesivemulti-celled marine life that lived and died within a space of hours.The Venusians paddled with extreme care. Had one of them dipped hishand into one of those yellow streaks, he would have been devoured ina matter of seconds.     At high noon by my Earth watch I sighted a low white structure on oneof the distant islands. Moments later we made a landing at a rudejetty, and Grannie Annie was introducing me to Ezra Karn.     He was not as old a man as I had expected, but he was ragged andunkempt with iron gray hair falling almost to his shoulders. He wasdressed in      varpa     cloth, the Venus equivalent of buckskin, and on hishead was an enormous flop-brimmed hat.     Glad to meet you, he said, shaking my hand. Any friend of MissFlowers is a friend of mine. He ushered us down the catwalk into hishut.     The place was a two room affair, small but comfortable. The latesttype of visi set in one corner showed that Karn was not isolated fromcivilization entirely.     Grannie Annie came to the point abruptly. When she had explained theobject of our trip, the prospector became thoughtful.     Green Flames, eh? he repeated slowly. Well yes, I suppose I couldfind that space ship again. That is, if I wanted to.     What do you mean? Grannie paused in the act of rolling herself acigarette. You know where it is, don't you?     Ye-s, Karn nodded. But like I told you before, that ship lies inVarsoom country, and that isn't exactly a summer vacation spot.     What are the Varsoom? I asked. A native tribe?     Karn shook his head. They're a form of life that's never been seen byEarthmen. Strictly speaking, they're no more than a form of energy.     Dangerous?     Yes and no. Only man I ever heard of who escaped their country outsideof myself was the explorer, Darthier, three years ago. I got awaybecause I was alone, and they didn't notice me, and Darthier escapedbecause he made 'em laugh.     Laugh? A scowl crossed Grannie's face.     That's right, Karn said. The Varsoom have a strange nervous reactionthat's manifested by laughing. But just what it is that makes themlaugh, I don't know.     Food supplies and fresh drinking water were replenished at the hut.Several mold guns were borrowed from the prospector's supply to arm theVenusians. And then as we were about to leave, Karn suddenly turned.     The Doctor Universe program, he said. I ain't missed one in months.You gotta wait 'til I hear it.     Grannie frowned in annoyance, but the prospector was adamant. Heflipped a stud, twisted a dial and a moment later was leaning back in achair, listening with avid interest.     It was the same show I had witnessed back in Swamp City. Once again Iheard questions filter in from the far outposts of the System. Onceagain I saw the commanding figure of the quiz master as he strode backand forth across the stage. And as I sat there, looking into the visiscreen, a curious numbing drowsiness seemed to steal over me and leadmy thoughts far away.  <doc-sep>She nodded. There are quite a few of us now—about a thousand—and adozen ships. Our base used to be here on Venus, down toward the Pole.The dome we're in now was designed and built by us a few years agoafter we got pushed off Mars. We lost a few men in the construction,but with almost every advance in space, someone dies.     Venus is getting too civilized. We're moving out and this dome is onlya temporary base when we have cases like yours. The new base—I mightas well tell you it's going to be an asteroid. I won't say which one.     Don't get the idea that we're outlaws. Sure, about half our group iswanted by the Bureau, but we make honest livings. We're just peoplelike yourself and Jacob.     Jacob? Your husband?     She laughed. Makes you think of a Biblical character, doesn't it?Jacob's anything but that. And just plain 'Jake' reminds one of agrizzled old uranium prospector and he isn't like that, either.     She lit a cigarette. Anyway, the wanted ones stay out beyond thefrontiers. Jacob and those like him can never return to Earth—not evento Hoover City—except dead. The others are physical or psycho rejectswho couldn't get clearance if they went back to Earth. They knownothing but rocketing and won't give up. They bring in our ships tofrontier ports like Hoover City to unload cargo and take on supplies.     Don't the authorities object?     Not very strongly. The I. B. I. has too many problems right here tosearch the whole System for a few two-bit crooks. Besides, we carrycargoes of almost pure uranium and tungsten and all the stuff that'sscarce on Earth and Mars and Venus. Nobody really cares whether itcomes from the asteroids or Hades. If we want to risk our lives miningit, that's our business.     She pursed her lips. But if they guessed how strong we are or that wehave friends planted in the I. B. I.—well, things might be different.There probably would be a crackdown.     Ben scowled. What happens if there      is     a crackdown? And what will youdo when Space Corps ships officially reach the asteroids? They can'tignore you then.     Then we move on. We dream up new gimmicks for our crates and take themto Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto. In time, maybe, we'll bepushed out of the System itself. Maybe it won't be the white-suitedboys who'll make that first hop to the stars. It      could     be us, youknow—if we live long enough. But that Asteroid Belt is murder. Youcan't follow the text-book rules of astrogation out there. You make upyour own.  <doc-sep>  A PLANET NAMED JOE     By S. A. LOMBINO       There were more Joes on Venus than you could shake       a ray-gun at. Perhaps there was method in Colonel       Walsh's madness—murder-madness—when he ordered Major       Polk to scan the planet for a guy named Joe.       [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories     November 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the     U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Colonel Walsh had a great sense of humor. I hated his guts ever sincewe went through the Academy together, but he had a great sense of humor.     For example, he could have chosen a Second Looie for the job on Venus.He might even have picked a Captain. But he liked me about as much asI liked him, and so he decided the job was just right for a Major. Atleast, that's what he told me.     I stood at attention before his desk in the Patrol Station. We weresomewhere in Area Two on Earth, takeoff point for any operations inSpace II. The duty was fine, and I liked it a lot. Come to think ofit, the most I ever did was inspect a few defective tubes every now andthen. The rest was gravy, and Colonel Walsh wasn't going to let me getby with gravy.     It will be a simple assignment, Major, he said to me, peering overhis fingers. He held them up in front of him like a cathedral.     Yes, sir, I said.     It will involve finding one man, a Venusian native.     I wanted to say, Then why the hell don't you send a green kid onthe job? Why me? Instead, I nodded and watched him playing with hisfingers.     The man is a trader of sorts. Rather intelligent. He paused, thenadded, For a native, that is.     I had never liked Walsh's attitude toward natives. I hadn't liked theway he'd treated the natives on Mars ever since he'd taken over there.Which brought to mind an important point.     I always figured Venus was under the jurisdiction of Space III, sir. Ithought our activities were confined to Mars.     He folded his fingers like a deck of cards and dropped them on his deskas if he were waiting for me to cut.     Mmmm, he said, yes, that's true. But this is a special job. It sohappens this Venusian is the one man who can help us understand justwhat's happening on Mars.     I tried to picture a Venusian understanding Mars and I didn't get veryfar.     He's had many dealings with the natives there, Walsh explained. Ifanyone can tell us the reasons for the revolt, he can.     If Walsh really wanted to know the reasons for the revolt, I could givethem to him in one word: Walsh. I had to laugh at the way he calledit revolt. It had been going on for six months now and we'd lost atleast a thousand men from Space II. Revolt.     And this man is on Venus now? I asked for confirmation. I'd neverbeen to Venus, being in Space II ever since I'd left the Moon run. Itwas just like Walsh to ship me off to a strange place.     Yes, Major, he said. This man is on Venus.     At the Academy he had called me Fred. That was before I'd reportedhim for sleeping on Boiler Watch. He'd goofed off on a pile of uraniumthat could've, and almost did, blow the barracks sky-high that night.He still thought it was my fault, as if I'd done the wrong thing byreporting him. And now, through the fouled-up machinery that exists inany military organization, he outranked me.     And the man's name, sir?     Joe. A tight smile played on his face.     Joe what? I asked.     Just Joe.     Just Joe?     Yes, Walsh said. A native, you know. They rarely go in for more thanfirst names. But then, it should be simple to find a man with a namelike Joe. Among the natives, I mean.     I don't know, sir.     A relatively simple assignment, Walsh said.     Can you tell me anything else about this man? Physical appearance?Personal habits? Anything?     Walsh seemed to consider this for a moment. Well, physically he's likeany of the other Venusians, so I can't give you much help there. Hedoes have a peculiar habit, though.     What's that?     He has an affinity for Terran cigarettes.     I sighed. Well, it's not very much to go on.     You'll find him, Walsh said, grinning. I'm sure of it.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the story of Robson Hind in THE LOST TRIBES OF VENUS?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the Five Ship Plan and how does it relate to THE LOST TRIBES OF VENUS? [SEP] <s>  THE LOST TRIBES OF VENUS     By ERIK FENNEL       On mist-shrouded Venus, where hostile       swamp meets hostile sea ... there did       Barry Barr—Earthman transmuted—swap       his Terran heritage for the deep dark       waters of Tana; for the strangely       beautiful Xintel of the blue-brown skin.       [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories May 1954.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Evil luck brought the meteorite to those particular space-timecoordinates as Number Four rode the downhill spiral toward Venus. Thefootball-sized chunk of nickel-iron and rock overtook the ship at arelative speed of only a few hundred miles per hour and passed closeenough to come within the tremendous pseudo-gravatic fields of theidling drivers.     It swerved into a paraboloid course, following the flux lines, and wasdragged directly against one of the three projecting nozzles. Energyof motion was converted to heat and a few meteoric fragments fusedthemselves to the nonmetallic tube casing.     In the jet room the positronic line accelerator for that particulardriver fouled under the intolerable overload, and the backsurge sentsearing heat and deadly radiation blasting through the compartmentbefore the main circuit breakers could clack open.     The bellow of the alarm horn brought Barry Barr fully awake, shatteringa delightfully intimate dream of the dark haired girl he hoped to seeagain soon in Venus Colony. As he unbuckled his bunk straps and startedaft at a floating, bounding run his weightlessness told him instantlythat Number Four was in free fall with dead drivers.     Red warning lights gleamed wickedly above the safety-locked jetroom door, and Nick Podtiaguine, the air machines specialist, wasmanipulating the emergency controls with Captain Reno at his elbow. Oneby one the crew crowded into the corridor and watched in tense silence.     The automatic lock clicked off as the jet room returned to habitableconditions, and at Captain Reno's gesture two men swung the door open.Quickly the commander entered the blasted jet room. Barry Barr wasclose behind him.     Robson Hind, jet chief of Four and electronics expert for Venus Colony,hung back until others had gone in first. His handsome, heavy face hadlost its usual ruddiness.     Captain Reno surveyed the havoc. Young Ryan's body floated eerily inthe zero gravity, charred into instant death by the back-blast. Theline accelerator was a shapeless ruin, but except for broken meterglasses and scorched control handles other mechanical damage appearedminor. They had been lucky.     Turnover starts in six hours twelve minutes, the captain saidmeaningfully.     Robson Hind cleared his throat. We can change accelerators in twohours, he declared. With a quick reassumption of authority he began toorder his crew into action.     It took nearer three hours than two to change accelerators despiteHind's shouted orders.     At last the job was completed. Hind made a final check, floated over tothe control panel and started the fuel feed. With a confident smile hethrew in the accelerator switch.     The meter needles climbed, soared past the red lines without pausing,and just in time to prevent a second blowback, Hind cut the power.           There's metal in the field!      His voice was high and unsteady.  <doc-sep>The blazing disc of Sol, the minor globes of the planets, the unwinkingpinpoints of the stars, all stared with cosmic disinterest at the tinyfigure crawling along the hull. His spacesuit trapped and amplifiedbreathing and heartbeats into a roaring chaos that was an invitationto blind panic, and all the while there was consciousness of theinsidiously deadly Sigma radiations.     Barry found the debris of the meteorite, an ugly shining splotchagainst the dull superceramic tube, readied his power chisel, startedcutting. Soon it became a tedious, torturingly strenuous manual taskrequiring little conscious thought, and Barry's mind touched briefly onthe events that had brought him here.     First Luna, and that had been murderous. Man had encountered Sigmafor the first time, and many had died before the Kendall-shield wasperfected. And the chemical-fueled rockets of those days had beeninherently poor.     Hoskins semi-atomics had made possible the next step—to Mars. But menhad found Mars barren, swept clear of all life in the cataclysm thathad shattered the trans-Martian planet to form the Asteroid Belt.     Venus, its true surface forever hidden by enshrouding mists, had beenwell within one-way range. But Hoskins fuel requirements for a roundtrip added up to something beyond critical mass. Impossible.     But the Five Ship Plan had evolved, a joint enterprise of governmentand various private groups. Five vessels were to go out, each fueledto within a whiskered neutron of spontaneous detonation, manned byspecialists who, it was hoped, could maintain themselves under alienconditions.     On Venus the leftover fuel from all five would be transferred towhichever ship had survived the outbound voyage in best condition.That one would return to Earth. Permanent base or homeward voyage withcolonists crowded aboard like defeated sardines? Only time would tell.     Barry Barr had volunteered, and because the enlightened guesses of theexperts called for men and women familiar with tropical conditions,he had survived the rigorous weeding-out process. His duties in VenusColony would be to refabricate the discarded ships into whatever formwas most needed—most particularly a launching ramp—and to studynative Venusian materials.     Dorothy Voorhees had signed on as toxicologist and dietician. When thelimited supply of Earth food ran out the Colony would be forced torely upon Venusian plants and animals. She would guard against subtledelayed-action poisons, meanwhile devising ways of preparing Venusianmaterials to suit Earth tastes and digestions.     Barry had met her at Training Base and known at once that his years ofloneliness had come to an end.     She seemed utterly independent, self-contained, completely intellectualdespite her beauty, but Barry had not been deceived. From the momentof first meeting he had sensed within her deep springs of suppressedemotion, and he had understood. He too had come up the hard way, alone,and been forced to develop a shell of hardness and cold, single-mindeddevotion to his work. Gradually, often unwillingly under hisinsistence, her aloofness had begun to melt.     But Robson Hind too had been attracted. He was the only son of thebusiness manager of the great Hoskins Corporation which carrieda considerable share in the Five Ship Plan. Dorothy's failure tovirtually fall into his arms had only piqued his desires.     The man's smooth charm had fascinated the girl and his money had openedto her an entirely new world of lavish nightclubs and extravagantlyexpensive entertainments, but her inborn shrewdness had sensed somefactor in his personality that had made her hesitate.     Barry had felt a distrust of Hind apart from the normal dislike ofrivalry. He had looked forward to being with Dorothy aboard Three, andhad made no secret of his satisfaction when Hind's efforts to havehimself transferred to Three also or the girl to Four had failed.     But then a scaffold had slipped while Three was being readied, and witha fractured ankle he had been forced to miss the ship.     He unclipped the magnetic detector from his belt and ran it inch byinch over the nozzle. He found one spot of metal, pinhead-sized, butenough to cause trouble, and once more swung his power chisel intostuttering action.     Then it was done.     As quickly as possible he inched back to the airlock. Turnover had tostart according to calculations.  <doc-sep>I’d been interested in the Brightside for almost as long asI can remember (Claney said). I guess I was about ten whenWyatt and Carpenter made the last attempt—that was in 2082,I think. I followed the news stories like a tri-V serial and thenI was heartbroken when they just disappeared.     I know now that they were a pair of idiots, starting off withoutproper equipment, with practically no knowledge of surfaceconditions, without any charts—they couldn’t have madea hundred miles—but I didn’t know that then and it was aterrible tragedy. After that, I followed Sanderson’s work in theTwilight Lab up there and began to get Brightside into myblood, sure as death.     But it was Mikuta’s idea to attempt a Crossing. Did you everknow Tom Mikuta? I don’t suppose you did. No, not Japanese—Polish-American.He was a major in the Interplanetary Servicefor some years and hung onto the title after he gave uphis commission.     He was with Armstrong on Mars during his Service days,did a good deal of the original mapping and surveying forthe Colony there. I first met him on Venus; we spent fiveyears together up there doing some of the nastiest exploringsince the Matto Grasso. Then he made the attempt on VulcanCrater that paved the way for Balmer a few years later.     I’d always liked the Major—he was big and quiet and cool,the sort of guy who always had things figured a little furtherahead than anyone else and always knew what to do in a tightplace. Too many men in this game are all nerve and luck,with no judgment. The Major had both. He also had the kindof personality that could take a crew of wild men andmake them work like a well-oiled machine across a thousandmiles of Venus jungle. I liked him and I trusted him.     He contacted me in New York and he was very casual atfirst. We spent an evening here at the Red Lion, talking aboutold times; he told me about the Vulcan business, and how he’dbeen out to see Sanderson and the Twilight Lab on Mercury,and how he preferred a hot trek to a cold one any day of theyear—and then he wanted to know what I’d been doing sinceVenus and what my plans were.     “No particular plans,” I told him. “Why?”     He looked me over. “How much do you weigh, Peter?”     I told him one-thirty-five.     “That much!” he said. “Well, there can’t be much fat onyou, at any rate. How do you take heat?”     “You should know,” I said. “Venus was no icebox.”     “No, I mean      real     heat.”     Then I began to get it. “You’re planning a trip.”     “That’s right. A hot trip.” He grinned at me. “Might bedangerous, too.”     “What trip?”     “Brightside of Mercury,” the Major said.     I whistled cautiously. “At aphelion?”     He threw his head back. “Why try a Crossing at aphelion?What have you done then? Four thousand miles of butcherousheat, just to have some joker come along, use your data anddrum you out of the glory by crossing at perihelion forty-fourdays later? No, thanks. I want the Brightside without any nonsenseabout it.” He leaned across me eagerly. “I want to makea Crossing at perihelion and I want to cross on the surface. Ifa man can do that, he’s got Mercury. Until then,      nobody’s     gotMercury. I want Mercury—but I’ll need help getting it.”     I’d thought of it a thousand times and never dared considerit. Nobody had, since Wyatt and Carpenter disappeared. Mercuryturns on its axis in the same time that it wheels aroundthe Sun, which means that the Brightside is always facing in.That makes the Brightside of Mercury at perihelion the hottestplace in the Solar System, with one single exception: thesurface of the Sun itself.     It would be a hellish trek. Only a few men had ever learnedjust      how     hellish and they never came back to tell about it. Itwas a real hell’s Crossing, but someday, I thought, somebodywould cross it.     I wanted to be along.  <doc-sep>  THE SOUL EATERS     By WILLIAM CONOVER     Firebrand Dennis Brooke had one final chance     to redeem himself by capturing Koerber whose     ships were the scourge of the Void. But his     luck had run its course, and now he was     marooned on a rogue planet—fighting to save     himself from a menace weapons could not kill.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1944.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]            And so, my dear     , Dennis detected a faint irony in the phrase,       I'mafraid I can offer no competition to the beauties of five planets—oris it six? With regret I bow myself out, and knowing me as you do,you'll understand the futility of trying to convince me again. Anyway,there will be no temptation, for I'm sailing on a new assignment I'veaccepted. I did love you.... Good-by.          Dennis Brooke had lost count of the times he'd read Marla's lastletter, but every time he came to these final, poignant lines, theynever failed to conjure a vision of her tawny loveliness, slender asthe palms of Venus, and of the blue ecstasy of her eyes, wide with aperpetual wonder—limpid as a child's.     The barbaric rhythms of the      Congahua     , were a background of annoyancein Dennis' mind; he frowned slightly as the maneuvers of the Mercuriandancer, who writhed among the guests of the notorious pleasure palace,began to leave no doubt as to her intentions. The girl was beautiful,in a sultry, almost incandescent sort of way, but her open promise lefthim cold. He wanted solitude, somewhere to coordinate his thoughtsin silence and salvage something out of the wreck of his heart, notto speak of his career. But Venus, in the throes of a gigantic boomupon the discovery of radio-active fields, could offer only onesolitude—the fatal one of her swamps and virgin forests.     Dennis Brooke was thirty, the time when youth no longer seems unending.When the minor adventures of the heart begin to pall. If the loss ofMarla left an aching void that all the women of five planets could notfill, the loss of Space, was quite as deadly. For he had been grounded.True, Koerber's escape from the I.S.P. net had not quite been hisfault; but had he not been enjoying the joys of a voluptuous JovianChamber, in Venus' fabulous Inter-planetary Palace, he would have beenready for duty to complete the last link in the net of I.S.P. cruisersthat almost surrounded the space pirate.     A night in the Jovian Chamber, was to be emperor for one night. Everydream of a man's desire was marvelously induced through the skilful useof hypnotics; the rarest viands and most delectable drinks appeared asif by magic; the unearthly peace of an Olympus descended on a man'ssoul, and beauty ... beauty such as men dreamed of was a warm realityunder the ineffable illumination of the Chamber.     It cost a young fortune. But to pleasure mad, boom-ridden Venus, afortune was a bagatelle. Only it had cost Dennis Brooke far more than asheaf of credits—it had cost him the severe rebuff of the I.S.P., andmost of his heart in Marla.     Dennis sighed, he tilted his red, curly head and drank deeply of theinsidious      Verbena     , fragrant as a mint garden, in the tall frostyglass of Martian      Bacca-glas     , and as he did so, his brilliant hazeleyes found themselves gazing into the unwinking, violet stare of ayoung Martian at the next table. There was a smouldering hatred inthose eyes, and something else ... envy, perhaps, or was it jealousy?Dennis couldn't tell. But his senses became instantly alert. Dangerbrought a faint vibration which his superbly trained faculties couldinstantly denote.     His steady, bronzed hand lowered the drink, and his eyes narrowedslightly. Absorbed in trying to puzzle the sudden enmity of thisMartian stranger, he was unaware of the Mercurian Dancer. The latterhad edged closer, whirling in prismatic flashes from the myriadsemi-precious stones that studded her brief gauze skirt. And now, ina final bid for the spacer's favor she flung herself in his lap andtilted back invitingly.     Some of the guests laughed, others stared in plain envy at thehandsome, red-haired spacer, but from the table across, came thetinkling sound of a fragile glass being crushed in a powerful hand,and a muffled Martian curse. Without warning, the Martian was on hisfeet with the speed of an Hellacorium, the table went crashing to oneside as he leaped with deadly intent on the sprawled figure of DennisBrooke. A high-pitched scream brought instant silence as a Terran girlcried out. Then the Martian's hand reached out hungrily. But Dennis wasnot there.  <doc-sep>Everyone knew what that meant. The slightest trace of magnetic materialwould distort the delicately balanced cylinder of force that containedand directed the Hoskins blast, making it suicidal to operate.     Calmly Captain Reno voiced the thought in every mind.     It must be cleared. From the outside.     Several of the men swore under their breaths. Interplanetary spacewas constantly bombarded, with an intensity inverse to the prevailinggravitation, by something called Sigma radiation. Man had neverencountered it until leaving Earth, and little was known of itexcept that short exposure killed test animals and left their bodiesunpredictably altered.     Inside the ship it was safe enough, for the sleek hull was charged witha Kendall power-shield, impervious to nearly any Sigma concentration.But the shielding devices in the emergency spacesuits were smalland had never been space-tested in a region of nearly equalizedgravitations.     The man who emerged from the airlock would be flipping a coin with aparticularly unpleasant form of death.     Many pairs of eyes turned toward Robson Hind. He was jet chief.     I'm assigned, not expendable, he protested hastily. If there weremore trouble later.... His face was pasty.     Assigned. That was the key word. Barry Barr felt a lump tighteningin his stomach as the eyes shifted to him. He had some training inHoskins drivers. He knew alloys and power tools. And he was riding Fourunassigned after that broken ankle had made him miss Three. He was thelogical man.     For the safety of the ship. That phrase, taken from the ancientEarthbound code of the sea, had occurred repeatedly in theindoctrination manual at Training Base. He remembered it, andremembered further the contingent plans regarding assigned andunassigned personnel.     For a moment he stood indecisively, the nervous, unhumorous smilequirking across his angular face making him look more like an untriedboy than a structural engineer who had fought his way up through someof the toughest tropical construction camps of Earth. His lean body,built more for quick, neatly coordinated action than brute power,balanced handily in the zero gravity as he ran one hand through hissandy hair in a gesture of uncertainty.     He knew that not even the captain would order him through the airlock.     But the members of the Five Ship Plan had been selected in part for asense of responsibility.     Nick, will you help me button up? he asked with forced calmness.     For an instant he thought he detected a sly gleam in Hind's eyes. Butthen the jet chief was pressing forward with the others to shake hishand.     Rebellious reluctance flared briefly in Barry's mind. Dorothy Voorheeshad refused to make a definite promise before blasting off in Three—infact he hadn't even seen her during her last few days on Earth. Butstill he felt he had the inside track despite Hind's money and thebrash assurance that went with it. But if Hind only were to reach Venusalive—  <doc-sep>She nodded. There are quite a few of us now—about a thousand—and adozen ships. Our base used to be here on Venus, down toward the Pole.The dome we're in now was designed and built by us a few years agoafter we got pushed off Mars. We lost a few men in the construction,but with almost every advance in space, someone dies.     Venus is getting too civilized. We're moving out and this dome is onlya temporary base when we have cases like yours. The new base—I mightas well tell you it's going to be an asteroid. I won't say which one.     Don't get the idea that we're outlaws. Sure, about half our group iswanted by the Bureau, but we make honest livings. We're just peoplelike yourself and Jacob.     Jacob? Your husband?     She laughed. Makes you think of a Biblical character, doesn't it?Jacob's anything but that. And just plain 'Jake' reminds one of agrizzled old uranium prospector and he isn't like that, either.     She lit a cigarette. Anyway, the wanted ones stay out beyond thefrontiers. Jacob and those like him can never return to Earth—not evento Hoover City—except dead. The others are physical or psycho rejectswho couldn't get clearance if they went back to Earth. They knownothing but rocketing and won't give up. They bring in our ships tofrontier ports like Hoover City to unload cargo and take on supplies.     Don't the authorities object?     Not very strongly. The I. B. I. has too many problems right here tosearch the whole System for a few two-bit crooks. Besides, we carrycargoes of almost pure uranium and tungsten and all the stuff that'sscarce on Earth and Mars and Venus. Nobody really cares whether itcomes from the asteroids or Hades. If we want to risk our lives miningit, that's our business.     She pursed her lips. But if they guessed how strong we are or that wehave friends planted in the I. B. I.—well, things might be different.There probably would be a crackdown.     Ben scowled. What happens if there      is     a crackdown? And what will youdo when Space Corps ships officially reach the asteroids? They can'tignore you then.     Then we move on. We dream up new gimmicks for our crates and take themto Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto. In time, maybe, we'll bepushed out of the System itself. Maybe it won't be the white-suitedboys who'll make that first hop to the stars. It      could     be us, youknow—if we live long enough. But that Asteroid Belt is murder. Youcan't follow the text-book rules of astrogation out there. You make upyour own.  <doc-sep>The following day was our seventh in the swamp. The water hereresembled a vast mosaic, striped and cross-striped with long windingribbons of yellowish substance that floated a few inches below thesurface. The mold balls coming into contact with the evonium water ofthe swamp had undergone a chemical change and evolved into a cohesivemulti-celled marine life that lived and died within a space of hours.The Venusians paddled with extreme care. Had one of them dipped hishand into one of those yellow streaks, he would have been devoured ina matter of seconds.     At high noon by my Earth watch I sighted a low white structure on oneof the distant islands. Moments later we made a landing at a rudejetty, and Grannie Annie was introducing me to Ezra Karn.     He was not as old a man as I had expected, but he was ragged andunkempt with iron gray hair falling almost to his shoulders. He wasdressed in      varpa     cloth, the Venus equivalent of buckskin, and on hishead was an enormous flop-brimmed hat.     Glad to meet you, he said, shaking my hand. Any friend of MissFlowers is a friend of mine. He ushered us down the catwalk into hishut.     The place was a two room affair, small but comfortable. The latesttype of visi set in one corner showed that Karn was not isolated fromcivilization entirely.     Grannie Annie came to the point abruptly. When she had explained theobject of our trip, the prospector became thoughtful.     Green Flames, eh? he repeated slowly. Well yes, I suppose I couldfind that space ship again. That is, if I wanted to.     What do you mean? Grannie paused in the act of rolling herself acigarette. You know where it is, don't you?     Ye-s, Karn nodded. But like I told you before, that ship lies inVarsoom country, and that isn't exactly a summer vacation spot.     What are the Varsoom? I asked. A native tribe?     Karn shook his head. They're a form of life that's never been seen byEarthmen. Strictly speaking, they're no more than a form of energy.     Dangerous?     Yes and no. Only man I ever heard of who escaped their country outsideof myself was the explorer, Darthier, three years ago. I got awaybecause I was alone, and they didn't notice me, and Darthier escapedbecause he made 'em laugh.     Laugh? A scowl crossed Grannie's face.     That's right, Karn said. The Varsoom have a strange nervous reactionthat's manifested by laughing. But just what it is that makes themlaugh, I don't know.     Food supplies and fresh drinking water were replenished at the hut.Several mold guns were borrowed from the prospector's supply to arm theVenusians. And then as we were about to leave, Karn suddenly turned.     The Doctor Universe program, he said. I ain't missed one in months.You gotta wait 'til I hear it.     Grannie frowned in annoyance, but the prospector was adamant. Heflipped a stud, twisted a dial and a moment later was leaning back in achair, listening with avid interest.     It was the same show I had witnessed back in Swamp City. Once again Iheard questions filter in from the far outposts of the System. Onceagain I saw the commanding figure of the quiz master as he strode backand forth across the stage. And as I sat there, looking into the visiscreen, a curious numbing drowsiness seemed to steal over me and leadmy thoughts far away.  <doc-sep>Six days after leaving Swamp City we reached Level Five, the lastoutpost of firm ground. Ahead lay the inner marsh, stretching as far asthe eye could reach. Low islands projected at intervals from the thickwater. Mold balls, two feet across, drifted down from the slate-graysky like puffs of cotton.     We had traveled this far by      ganet     , the tough little two headed packanimal of the Venus hinterland. Any form of plane or rocket would havehad its motor instantly destroyed, of course, by the magnetic forcebelt that encircled the planet's equator. Now our drivers changed toboatmen, and we loaded our supplies into three clumsy      jagua     canoes.     It was around the camp fire that night that Grannie took me into herconfidence for the first time since we had left Swamp City.     We're heading directly for Varsoom country, she said. If we findEzra Karn so much the better. If we don't, we follow his directions tothe lost space ship. Our job is to find that ore and destroy it. Yousee, I'm positive the Green Flames have never been removed from theship.     Sleep had never bothered me, yet that night I lay awake for hourstossing restlessly. The thousand sounds of the blue marsh dronedsteadily. And the news broadcast I had heard over the portable visijust before retiring still lingered in my mind. To a casual observerthat broadcast would have meant little, a slight rebellion here, anisolated crime there. But viewed from the perspective Grannie hadgiven me, everything dovetailed. The situation on Jupiter was swiftlycoming to a head. Not only had the people on that planet demanded thatrepresentative government be abolished, but a forum was now being heldto find a leader who might take complete dictatorial control.     Outside a whisper-worm hissed softly. I got up and strode out of mytent. For some time I stood there, lost in thought. Could I believeGrannie's incredible story? Or was this another of her fantastic plotswhich she had skilfully blended into a novel?     Abruptly I stiffened. The familiar drone of the marsh was gone. In itsplace a ringing silence blanketed everything.     And then out in the gloom a darker shadow appeared, moving inundulating sweeps toward the center of the camp. Fascinated, I watchedit advance and retreat, saw two hyalescent eyes swim out of the murk.It charged, and with but a split second to act, I threw myself flat.There was a rush of mighty wings as the thing swept over me. Sharptalons raked my clothing. Again it came, and again I rolled swiftly,missing the thing by the narrowest of margins.     From the tent opposite a gaunt figure clad in a familiar dressappeared. Grannie gave a single warning:     Stand still!     The thing in the darkness turned like a cam on a rod and drove at usagain. This time the old woman's heat gun clicked, and a tracery ofpurple flame shot outward. A horrible soul-chilling scream rent theair. A moment later something huge and heavy scrabbled across theground and shot aloft.        Grannie Annie fired with deliberate speed.        I stood frozen as the diminuendo of its wild cries echoed back to me.     In heaven's name, what was it?     Hunter-bird, Grannie said calmly. A form of avian life found herein the swamp. Harmless in its wild state, but when captured, it can betrained to pursue a quarry until it kills. It has a single unit brainand follows with a relentless purpose.     Then that would mean...?     That it was sent by our enemy, the same enemy that shot at us in thecafe in Swamp City. Exactly. Grannie Annie halted at the door of hertent and faced me with earnest eyes. Billy-boy, our every move isbeing watched. From now on it's the survival of the fittest.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the Five Ship Plan and how does it relate to THE LOST TRIBES OF VENUS?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the MASTER of Life and Death storyline? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>He stood then in the middle of the room, arms akimbo, his head swimmingwith glory—and remembered suddenly that he was hungry. He felt in thecontainer of his helmet, extracted a couple of food tablets, and poppedthem into his mouth.     They would take care of his needs, but they didn't satisfy his hunger.No food tablets for him after this! Steaks, wines, souffles.... Hismouth began to water at the very thought.     And then the robot rolled on soundless wheels into the room. Symewhirled and saw it only when it was almost upon him. The thing wasremarkably lifelike, and for a moment he was startled.     But it was not alive. It was only a Martian feeding-machine, kept inrepair all these millennia by other robots. It was not intelligent,and so it did not know that its masters would never return. It did notknow, either, that Syme was not a Martian, or that he wanted a steak,and not the distilled liquor of the      xopa     fungus, which still grew inthe subterranean gardens of Kal-Jmar. It was capable only of receivingthe mental impulse of hunger, and of responding to that impulse.     And so when Syme saw it and opened his mouth in startlement, therobot acted as it had done with its degenerate, slothful masters. Itsflexible feeding tube darted out and half down the man's gullet beforehe could move to avoid it. And down Syme Rector's throat poured a floodof      xopa     -juice, nectar to Martians, but swift, terrible death to humanbeings....     Outside, the last doorway to Kal-Jmar closed forever, across from thecold body of Tate.   <doc-sep>The girl did not answer then and a hushed expectancy fell over theship. Somewhere aft a small motor was running. Wind whistled past theopen lock.     I've caused plenty of trouble haven't I? she asked aloud, finally.This was certainly a fool stunt, and I'm guilty of a lot of foolstunts! I just didn't realize until now the      why     of that law.     Don't talk so much, the nurse admonished. A lot of people have foundout the      why     of that law the hard way, just as you are doing, andlived to remember it. Until hospitals are built on this forlorn world,humans like you who haven't been properly conditioned will have to stayright at home.     How about these men that live and work here?     They never get here until they've been through the mill first.Adenoids, appendix', all the extra parts they can get along without.     Well, Judith said. I've certainly learned my lesson!     Gray didn't answer, but from out of the darkness surrounding her came asound remarkably resembling a snort.     Gray? Judith asked fearfully.     Yes?     Hasn't the pilot been gone an awfully long time?     Rat himself provided the answer by alighting at the lip with a jar thatshook the ship. He was breathing heavily and lugging something in hisarms. The burden groaned.     Gladney! Nurse Gray exclaimed.     I got. Rat confirmed. Yes, Gladney. Damn heavy, Gladney.     But how? she demanded. What of Roberds and Peterson?     Trick, he sniggered. I burn down my shack. Boss run out. I run in.Very simple. He packed Gladney into the remaining hammock and snappedbuckles.     And Peterson? she prompted.     Oh yes. Peterson. So sorry about Peterson. Had to fan him.           Fan     him? I don't understand.     Fan. With chair. Everything all right. I apologized. Rat finished upand was walking back to the lock. They heard a slight rustling of wingsas he padded away.     He was back instantly, duplicating his feat of a short time ago.Cursing shouts were slung on the night air, and the deadly spang ofbullets bounced on the hull! Some entered the lock. The Centauriansnapped it shut. Chunks of lead continued to pound the ship. Rat leapedfor the pilot's chair, heavily, a wing drooping.     You've been hurt! Gray cried. A small panel light outlined hisfeatures. She tried to struggle up.     Lie still! We go. Boss get wise. With lightning fingers he flickedseveral switches on the panel, turned to her. Hold belly. Zoom!     Gray folded her hands across her stomach and closed her eyes.     Rat unlocked the master level and shoved!  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>Carpenter rubbed modestly gloved hands together. I have no immediatebusiness, so supposing I start showing you the sights. What would youlike to see first, Mr. Frey? Or would you prefer a nice, restful movid?     Frankly, Michael admitted, the first thing I'd like to do is getmyself something to eat. I didn't have any breakfast and I'm famished.Two small creatures standing close to him giggled nervously andscuttled off on six legs apiece.     Shh, not so loud! There are females present. Carpenter drew theyouth to a secluded corner. Don't you know that on Theemim it'sfrightfully vulgar to as much as speak of eating in public?     But why? Michael demanded in too loud a voice. What's wrong witheating in public here on Earth?     Carpenter clapped a hand over the young man's mouth. Hush, hecautioned. After all, on Earth there are things we don't do or evenmention in public, aren't there?     Well, yes. But those are different.     Not at all. Those rules might seem just as ridiculous to a Theemimian.But the Theemimians have accepted our customs just as we have acceptedthe Theemimians'. How would you like it if a Theemimian violatedone of our tabus in public? You must consider the feelings of theTheemimians as equal to your own. Observe the golden rule: 'Do untoextraterrestrials as you would be done by.'     But I'm still hungry, Michael persisted, modulating his voice,however, to a decent whisper. Do the proprieties demand that I starveto death, or can I get something to eat somewhere?     Naturally, the salesman whispered back. Portyork provides for allbodily needs. Numerous feeding stations are conveniently locatedthroughout the port, and there must be some on the field.     After gazing furtively over his shoulder to see that no females werewatching, Carpenter approached a large map of the landing field andpressed a button. A tiny red light winked demurely for an instant.     That's the nearest one, Carpenter explained.  <doc-sep>  Transcriber's Note:   This etext was produced from Analog March 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.    ILLUSTRATED     BY     KRENKEL        HIS MASTER'S VOICE     ANALOG SCIENCE FACT · SCIENCE FICTION       Spaceship McGuire had lots of knowledge—but no wisdom. He wassmart—but incredibly foolish. And, as a natural consequence, tended toask questions too profound for any philosopher—questions like Who areyou?     By RANDALL GARRETT      I'd been in Ravenhurst's office on the mountain-sized planetoid calledRaven's Rest only twice before. The third time was no better; ShalimarRavenhurst was one of the smartest operators in the Belt, but when itcame to personal relationships, he was utterly incompetent. He couldmake anyone dislike him without trying.     When I entered the office, he was  [3]  sitting behind his mahogany desk,his eyes focused on the operation he was going through with a wineglassand a decanter. He didn't look up at me as he said:     Sit down, Mr. Oak. Will you have some Madeira?     I decided I might as well observe the pleasantries. There was no pointin my getting nasty until he did. Thank you, Mr. Ravenhurst, I will.     He kept his eyes focused on his work: It isn't easy to pour wine on aplanetoid where the gee-pull is measured in fractions of a centimeterper second squared. It moves slowly, like ropy molasses, but you haveto be careful not to be fooled by that. The viscosity is just as lowas ever, and if you pour it from any great height, it will go scootingright out of the glass  [4]  again. The momentum it builds up is enough tomake it splash right out again in a slow-motion gush which gets it allover the place.     Besides which, even if it didn't splash, it would take it so long tofall a few inches that you'd die of thirst waiting for it.     Ravenhurst had evolved a technique from long years of practice.He tilted the glass and the bottle toward each other, their edgestouching, like you do when you're trying to pour beer without putting ahead on it. As soon as the wine wet the glass, the adhesive forces atwork would pull more wine into the wine glass. To get capillary actionon a low-gee asteroid, you don't need a capillary, by any means. Thenegative meniscus on the wine was something to see; the first timeyou see it, you get the eerie feeling that the glass is spinning andthrowing the wine up against the walls by centrifugal force.     I took the glass he offered me (Careful! Don't slosh!) and sipped atit. Using squirt tubes would have been a hell of a lot easier andneater, but Ravenhurst liked to do things his way.     He put the stopper back in the decanter, picked up his own glass andsipped appreciatively. Not until he put it back down on the desk againdid he raise his eyes and look at me for the first time since I'd comein.     Mr. Oak, you have caused me considerable trouble.     I thought we'd hashed all that out, Mr. Ravenhurst, I said, keepingmy voice level.     [5]     So had I. But it appears that there were more ramifications to youraction than we had at first supposed. His voice had the texture ofheavy linseed oil.     He waited, as if he expected me to make some reply to that. WhenI didn't, he sighed slightly and went on. I fear that you haveinadvertently sabotaged McGuire. You were commissioned to preventsabotage, Mr. Oak, and I'm afraid that you abrogated your contract.     I just continued to keep my voice calm. If you are trying to get backthe fee you gave me, we can always take it to court. I don't thinkyou'd win.     Mr. Oak, he said heavily, I am not a fool, regardless of what yourown impression may be. If I were trying to get back that fee, I wouldhardly offer to pay you another one.     I didn't think he was a fool. You don't get into the managerialbusiness and climb to the top and stay there unless you have brains.Ravenhurst was smart, all right; it was just that, when it came topersonal relationships, he wasn't very wise.     Then stop all this yak about an abrogated contract and get to thepoint, I told him.     I shall. I was merely trying to point out to you that it is throughyour own actions that I find myself in a very trying position, and thatyour sense of honor and ethics should induce you to rectify the damage.     My honor and ethics are in fine shape, I said, but my interpretationof the concepts might not be quite  [6]  the same as yours. Get to thepoint.     He took another sip of Madeira. The robotocists at Viking tellme that, in order to prevent any further ... ah ... sabotage byunauthorized persons, the MGYR-7 was constructed so that, afteractivation, the first man who addressed orders to it would thenceforthbe considered its ... ah ... master.     As I understand it, the problem of defining the term 'human being'unambiguously to a robot is still unsolved. The robotocists felt thatit would be much easier to define a single individual. That wouldprevent the issuing of conflicting orders to a robot, provided thesingle individual were careful in giving orders himself.     Now, it appears that      you     , Mr. Oak, were the first man to speak toMcGuire after he had been activated. Is that correct?     Is that question purely rhetorical, I asked him, putting on my bestexpression of innocent interest. Or are you losing your memory? I hadexplained all that to him two weeks before, when I'd brought McGuireand the girl here, so that Ravenhurst would have a chance to cover upwhat had really happened.  <doc-sep>It was quite a bang, said Retief. But I guess you saw it, too.     No, confound it, Magnan said. When I remonstrated with Hulk, orWhelk—     Whonk.     —the ruffian thrust me into an alley bound in my own cloak. I'll mostcertainly complain to the Minister.     How about the surgical mission?     A most generous offer, said Magnan. Frankly, I was astonished. Ithink perhaps we've judged the Groaci too harshly.     I hear the Ministry of Youth has had a rough morning of it, saidRetief. And a lot of rumors are flying to the effect that Youth Groupsare on the way out.     Magnan cleared his throat, shuffled papers. I—ah—have explained tothe press that last night's—ah—     Fiasco.     —affair was necessary in order to place the culprits in an untenableposition. Of course, as to the destruction of the VIP vessel and thepresumed death of, uh, Slop.     The Fustians understand, said Retief. Whonk wasn't kidding aboutceremonial vengeance.     The Groaci had been guilty of gross misuse of diplomatic privilege,said Magnan. I think that a note—or perhaps an Aide Memoire: lessformal....     The      Moss Rock     was bound for Groaci, said Retief. She was alreadyin her transit orbit when she blew. The major fragments will arrive onschedule in a month or so. It should provide quite a meteorite display.I think that should be all the      aide     the Groaci's      memoires     will needto keep their tentacles off Fust.     But diplomatic usage—     Then, too, the less that's put in writing, the less they can blame youfor, if anything goes wrong.     That's true, said Magnan, lips pursed. Now you're thinkingconstructively, Retief. We may make a diplomat of you yet. He smiledexpansively.     Maybe. But I refuse to let it depress me. Retief stood up. I'mtaking a few weeks off ... if you have no objection, Mr. Ambassador. Mypal Whonk wants to show me an island down south where the fishing isgood.     But there are some extremely important matters coming up, saidMagnan. We're planning to sponsor Senior Citizen Groups—     Count me out. All groups give me an itch.     Why, what an astonishing remark, Retief! After all, we diplomats areourselves a group.     Uh-huh, Retief said.     Magnan sat quietly, mouth open, and watched as Retief stepped into thehall and closed the door gently behind him.   <doc-sep>It took three weeks to make the return trip to Swamp City. The Varsoomfollowed us far beyond the frontier of their country like an unseenarmy in the throes of laughing gas. Not until we reached Level Five didthe last chuckle fade into the distance.     All during that trek back, Grannie sat in the dugout, staring silentlyout before her.     But when we reached Swamp City, the news was flung at us from allsides. One newspaper headline accurately told the story: DOCTORUNIVERSE BID FOR SYSTEM DICTATORSHIP SQUELCHED BY RIDICULE OF UNSEENAUDIENCE. QUIZ MASTER NOW IN HANDS OF I.P. COUP FAILURE.     Grannie, I said that night as we sat again in a rear booth of THEJET, what are you going to do now? Give up writing science fiction?     She looked at me soberly, then broke into a smile.     Just because some silly form of life that can't even be seen doesn'tappreciate it? I should say not. Right now I've got an idea for a swellyarn about Mars. Want to come along while I dig up some backgroundmaterial?     I shook my head. Not me, I said.     But I knew I would.   <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the MASTER of Life and Death storyline?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What are the Equalization Laws and how do they relate to the new world order depicted in MASTER of Life and Death? [SEP] <s>     MASTER       of Life and Death       by     ROBERT SILVERBERG     ACE BOOKS     A Division of A. A. Wyn, Inc.     23 West 47th Street, New York 36, N. Y.     MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH     Copyright 1957, by A. A. Wyn, Inc.     All Rights Reserved     For Antigone—     Who Thinks We're Property     Printed in U.S.A.     [Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any     evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      THE MAN WHO RATIONED BABIES     By the 23rd century Earth's population had reached seven billion.Mankind was in danger of perishing for lack of elbow room—unlessprompt measures were taken. Roy Walton had the power to enforce thosemeasures. But though his job was in the service of humanity, he soonfound himself the most hated man in the world.     For it was      his     job to tell parents their children were unfit to live;      he     had to uproot people from their homes and send them to remoteareas of the world. Now, threatened by mobs of outraged citizens,denounced and blackened by the press, Roy Walton had to make adecision: resign his post, or use his power to destroy his enemies,become a dictator in the hopes of saving humanity from its own folly.In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH?      CAST OF CHARACTERS     ROY WALTON     He had to adopt the motto—      the ends justify the means     .     FITZMAUGHAM     His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet.     FRED WALTON     His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimatedtheir size.     LEE PERCY     His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills.     PRIOR     With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son?     DR. LAMARRE     He died for discovering the secret of immortality.      Contents      I     The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly knownas Popeek, were located on the twentieth through twenty-ninth floorsof the Cullen Building, a hundred-story monstrosity typical oftwenty-second-century neo-Victorian at its overdecorated worst. RoyWalton, Popeek's assistant administrator, had to apologize to himselfeach morning as he entered the hideous place.     Since taking the job, he had managed to redecorate his own office—onthe twenty-eighth floor, immediately below Director FitzMaugham's—butthat had created only one minor oasis in the esthetically repugnantbuilding. It couldn't be helped, though; Popeek was unpopular, thoughnecessary; and, like the public hangman of some centuries earlier, theBureau did not rate attractive quarters.     So Walton had removed some of the iridescent chrome scalloping thattrimmed the walls, replaced the sash windows with opaquers, and changedthe massive ceiling fixture to more subtle electroluminescents. But themark of the last century was stamped irrevocably on both building andoffice.     Which was as it should be, Walton had finally realized. It was the lastcentury's foolishness that had made Popeek necessary, after all.     His desk was piled high with reports, and more kept arriving viapneumochute every minute. The job of assistant administrator wasa thankless one, he thought; as much responsibility as DirectorFitzMaugham, and half the pay.     He lifted a report from one eyebrow-high stack, smoothed the crinklypaper carefully, and read it.     It was a despatch from Horrocks, the Popeek agent currently on duty inPatagonia. It was dated      4 June 2232     , six days before, and after along and rambling prologue in the usual Horrocks manner it went on tosay,      Population density remains low here: 17.3 per square mile, farbelow optimum. Looks like a prime candidate for equalization.       Walton agreed. He reached for his voicewrite and said sharply, Memofrom Assistant Administrator Walton, re equalization of ... He paused,picking a trouble-spot at random, ... central Belgium. Will thesection chief in charge of this area please consider the advisabilityof transferring population excess to fertile areas in Patagonia?Recommendation: establishment of industries in latter region, to easetransition.     He shut his eyes, dug his thumbs into them until bright flares of lightshot across his eyeballs, and refused to let himself be bothered bythe multiple problems involved in dumping several hundred thousandBelgians into Patagonia. He forced himself to cling to one of DirectorFitzMaugham's oft-repeated maxims,      If you want to stay sane, think ofthese people as pawns in a chess game—not as human beings.       Walton sighed. This was the biggest chess problem in the history ofhumanity, and the way it looked now, all the solutions led to checkmatein a century or less. They could keep equalizing population only solong, shifting like loggers riding logs in a rushing river, beforetrouble came.     There was another matter to be attended to now. He picked up thevoicewrite again. Memo from the assistant administrator, reestablishment of new policy on reports from local agents: hire a staffof three clever girls to make a précis of each report, eliminatingirrelevant data.     It was a basic step, one that should have been taken long ago. Now,with three feet of reports stacked on his desk, it was mandatory. Oneof the troubles with Popeek was its newness; it had been established sosuddenly that most of its procedures were still in the formative stage.     He took another report from the heap. This one was the data sheet ofthe Zurich Euthanasia Center, and he gave it a cursory scanning. Duringthe past week, eleven substandard children and twenty-three substandardadults had been sent on to Happysleep.     That was the grimmest form of population equalization. Walton initialedthe report, earmarked it for files, and dumped it in the pneumochute.     The annunciator chimed.     I'm busy, Walton said immediately.     There's a Mr. Prior to see you, the annunciator's calm voice said.He insists it's an emergency.     Tell Mr. Prior I can't see anyone for at least three hours. Waltonstared gloomily at the growing pile of paper on his desk. Tell him hecan have ten minutes with me at—oh, say, 1300.     Walton heard an angry male voice muttering something in the outeroffice, and then the annunciator said, He insists he must see youimmediately in reference to a Happysleep commitment.     Commitments are irrevocable, Walton said heavily. The last thing inthe world he wanted was to see a man whose child or parent had justbeen committed. Tell Mr. Prior I can't see him at all.     Walton found his fingers trembling; he clamped them tight to the edgeof his desk to steady himself. It was all right sitting up here in thisugly building and initialing commitment papers, but actually to      see     one of those people and try to convince him of the need—     The door burst open.     A tall, dark-haired man in an open jacket came rushing through andpaused dramatically just over the threshold. Immediately behind himcame three unsmiling men in the gray silk-sheen uniforms of security.They carried drawn needlers.     Are you Administrator Walton? the big man asked, in an astonishinglydeep, rich voice. I have to see you. I'm Lyle Prior.     The three security men caught up and swarmed all over Prior. One ofthem turned apologetically to Walton. We're terribly sorry about this,sir. He just broke away and ran. We can't understand how he got inhere, but he did.     Ah—yes. So I noticed, Walton remarked drily. See if he's planningto assassinate anybody, will you?     Administrator Walton! Prior protested. I'm a man of peace! How canyou accuse me of—     One of the security men hit him. Walton stiffened and resisted the urgeto reprimand the man. He was only doing his job, after all.     Search him, Walton said.     They gave Prior an efficient going-over. He's clean, Mr. Walton.Should we take him to security, or downstairs to health?     Neither. Leave him here with me.     Are you sure you—     Get out of here, Walton snapped. As the three security men slinkedaway, he added, And figure out some more efficient system forprotecting me. Some day an assassin is going to sneak through hereand get me. Not that I give a damn about myself, you understand; it'ssimply that I'm indispensable. There isn't another lunatic in the worldwho'd take this job. Now      get out     !     They wasted no time in leaving. Walton waited until the door closedand jammed down hard on the lockstud. His tirade, he knew, was whollyunjustified; if he had remembered to lock his door as regulationsprescribed, Prior would never have broken in. But he couldn't admitthat to the guards.     Take a seat, Mr. Prior.     I have to thank you for granting me this audience, Prior said,without a hint of sarcasm in his booming voice. I realize you're aterribly busy man.     I am. Another three inches of paper had deposited itself on Walton'sdesk since Prior had entered. You're very lucky to have hit thepsychological moment for your entrance. At any other time I'd havehad you brigged for a month, but just now I'm in need of a littlediversion. Besides, I very much admire your work, Mr. Prior.     Thank you. Again that humility, startling in so big and commanding aman. I hadn't expected to find—I mean that you—     That a bureaucrat should admire poetry? Is that what you're gropingfor?     Prior reddened. Yes, he admitted.     Grinning, Walton said, I have to do      something     when I go home atnight. I don't really read Popeek reports twenty-four hours a day. Nomore than twenty; that's my rule. I thought your last book was quiteremarkable.     The critics didn't, Prior said diffidently.     Critics! What do they know? Walton demanded. They swing in cycles.Ten years ago it was form and technique, and you got the Melling Prize.Now it's message, political content that counts. That's not poetry, Mr.Prior—and there are still a few of us who recognize what poetry is.Take Yeats, for instance—     Walton was ready to launch into a discussion of every poet from Priorback to Surrey and Wyatt; anything to keep from the job at hand,anything to keep his mind from Popeek. But Prior interrupted him.     Mr. Walton....     Yes?     My son Philip ... he's two weeks old now....     Walton understood. No, Prior. Please don't ask. Walton's skin feltcold; his hands, tightly clenched, were clammy.     He was committed to Happysleep this morning—potentially tubercular.The boy's perfectly sound, Mr. Walton. Couldn't you—     Walton rose.       No     , he said, half-commanding, half-pleading. Don'task me to do it. I can't make any exceptions, not even for you. You'rean intelligent man; you understand our program.     I voted for Popeek. I know all about Weeding the Garden and theEuthanasia Plan. But I hadn't expected—     You thought euthanasia was a fine thing for      other     people. So dideveryone else, Walton said. That's how the act was passed. Tenderlyhe said, I can't do it. I can't spare your son. Our doctors give ababy every chance to live.           I     was tubercular. They cured me. What if they had practicedeuthanasia a generation ago? Where would my poems be now?     It was an unanswerable question; Walton tried to ignore it.Tuberculosis is an extremely rare disease, Mr. Prior. We can wipeit out completely if we strike at those with TB-susceptible genetictraits.     Meaning you'll kill any children I have? Prior asked.     Those who inherit your condition, Walton said gently. Go home, Mr.Prior. Burn me in effigy. Write a poem about me. But don't ask me to dothe impossible. I can't catch any falling stars for you.     Prior rose. He was immense, a hulking tragic figure staring broodinglyat Walton. For the first time since the poet's abrupt entry, Waltonfeared violence. His fingers groped for the needle gun he kept in hisupper left desk drawer.     But Prior had no violence in him. I'll leave you, he said somberly.I'm sorry, sir. Deeply sorry. For both of us.     Walton pressed the doorlock to let him out, then locked it again andslipped heavily into his chair. Three more reports slid out of thechute and landed on his desk. He stared at them as if they were threebasilisks.     In the six weeks of Popeek's existence, three thousand babies had beenticketed for Happysleep, and three thousand sets of degenerate geneshad been wiped from the race. Ten thousand subnormal males had beensterilized. Eight thousand dying oldsters had reached their gravesahead of time.     It was a tough-minded program. But why transmit palsy to unborngenerations? Why let an adult idiot litter the world with subnormalprogeny? Why force a man hopelessly cancerous to linger on in pain,consuming precious food?     Unpleasant? Sure. But the world had voted for it. Until Lang and histeam succeeded in terraforming Venus, or until the faster-than-lightoutfit opened the stars to mankind, something had to be done aboutEarth's overpopulation. There were seven billion now and the figure wasstill growing.     Prior's words haunted him.      I was tubercular ... where would my poemsbe now?       The big humble man was one of the great poets. Keats had beentubercular too.       What good are poets?     he asked himself savagely.     The reply came swiftly:      What good is anything, then?     Keats,Shakespeare, Eliot, Yeats, Donne, Pound, Matthews ... and Prior. Howmuch duller life would be without them, Walton thought, picturinghis bookshelf—his one bookshelf, in his crowded little cubicle of aone-room home.     Sweat poured down his back as he groped toward his decision.     The step he was considering would disqualify him from his job if headmitted it, though he wouldn't do that. Under the Equalization Law, itwould be a criminal act.     But just one baby wouldn't matter. Just one.     Prior's baby.     With nervous fingers he switched on the annunciator and said, If thereare any calls for me, take the message. I'll be out of my office forthe next half-hour.      II     He stepped out of the office, glancing around furtively. The outeroffice was busy: half a dozen girls were answering calls, openingletters, coordinating activities. Walton slipped quickly past them intothe hallway.     There was a knot of fear in his stomach as he turned toward thelift tube. Six weeks of pressure, six weeks of tension since Popeekwas organized and old man FitzMaugham had tapped him for thesecond-in-command post ... and now, a rebellion. The sparing of asingle child was a small rebellion, true, but he knew he was strikingas effectively at the base of Popeek this way as if he had broughtabout repeal of the entire Equalization Law.     Well, just one lapse, he promised himself. I'll spare Prior's child,and after that I'll keep within the law.     He jabbed the lift tube indicator and the tube rose in its shaft. Theclinic was on the twentieth floor.     Roy.     At the sound of the quiet voice behind him, Walton jumped in surprise.He steadied himself, forcing himself to turn slowly. The director stoodthere.     Good morning, Mr. FitzMaugham.     The old man was smiling serenely, his unlined face warm and friendly,his mop of white hair bright and full. You look preoccupied, boy.Something the matter?     Walton shook his head quickly. Just a little tired, sir. There's beena lot of work lately.     As he said it, he knew how foolish it sounded. If anyone in Popeekworked harder than he did, it was the elderly director. FitzMaughamhad striven for equalization legislature for fifty years, and now, atthe age of eighty, he put in a sixteen-hour day at the task of savingmankind from itself.     The director smiled. You never did learn how to budget your strength,Roy. You'll be a worn-out wreck before you're half my age. I'm gladyou're adopting my habit of taking a coffee break in the morning,though. Mind if I join you?     I'm—not taking a break, sir. I have some work to do downstairs.     Oh? Can't you take care of it by phone?     No, Mr. FitzMaugham. Walton felt as though he'd already been tried,drawn, and quartered. It requires personal attention.     I see. The deep, warm eyes bored into his. You ought to slow down alittle, I think.     Yes, sir. As soon as the work eases up a little.     FitzMaugham chuckled. In another century or two, you mean. I'm afraidyou'll never learn how to relax, my boy.     The lift tube arrived. Walton stepped to one side, allowed the Directorto enter, and got in himself. FitzMaugham pushed      Fourteen     ; there wasa coffee shop down there. Hesitantly, Walton pushed      twenty     , coveringthe panel with his arm so the old man would be unable to see hisdestination.     As the tube began to descend, FitzMaugham said, Did Mr. Prior come tosee you this morning?     Yes, Walton said.     He's the poet, isn't he? The one you say is so good?     That's right, sir, Walton said tightly.     He came to see me first, but I had him referred down to you. What wason his mind?     Walton hesitated. He—he wanted his son spared from Happysleep.Naturally, I had to turn him down.     Naturally, FitzMaugham agreed solemnly. Once we make even oneexception, the whole framework crumbles.     Of course, sir.     The lift tube halted and rocked on its suspension. The door slid back,revealing a neat, gleaming sign:       FLOOR 20        Euthanasia Clinic and Files       Walton had forgotten the accursed sign. He began to wish he had avoidedtraveling down with the director. He felt that his purpose must seemnakedly obvious now.     The old man's eyes were twinkling amusedly. I guess you get off here,he said. I hope you catch up with your work soon, Roy. You reallyshould take some time off for relaxation each day.     I'll try, sir.     Walton stepped out of the tube and returned FitzMaugham's smile as thedoor closed again. Bitter thoughts assailed him as soon as he was alone.       Some fine criminal you are. You've given the show away already! Anddamn that smooth paternal smile. FitzMaugham knows! He must know!       Walton wavered, then abruptly made his decision. He sucked in a deepbreath and walked briskly toward the big room where the euthanasiafiles were kept.  <doc-sep>Bob's nose twitched as he adjusted his glasses, which he wore eveninside his suit. He couldn't think of anything pertinent to say. Heknew that he was slowly working up a blush. Mildly speaking, thegirl was beautiful, and though only her carefully made-up face wasvisible—cool blue eyes, masterfully coiffed, upswept, glinting brownhair, wilful lips and chin—Bob suspected the rest of her comparednicely.     Her expression darkened as she saw the completely instinctive way hewas looking at her and her radioed-voice rapped out, Now you two boysgo and play somewhere else! Else I'll let the Interplanetary Commissionknow you've infringed the law. G'bye!     She turned and disappeared.     Bob awoke from his trance, shouted desperately, Hey! Wait!      You!          He and Queazy caught up with her on the side of the asteroid theyhadn't yet examined. It was a rough plane, completing the rigidqualifications Burnside had set down.     Wait a minute, Bob Parker begged nervously. I want to make someconversation, lady. I'm sure you don't understand the conditions—     The girl turned and drew a gun from a holster. It was a spasticizer,and it was three times as big as her gloved hand.     I understand conditions better than you do, she said. You wantto move this asteroid from its orbit and haul it back to Earth.Unfortunately, this is my home, by common law. Come back in a month. Idon't expect to be here then.     A month! Parker burst the word out. He started to sweat, then hisface became grim. He took two slow steps toward the girl. She blinkedand lost her composure and unconsciously backed up two steps. Abouttwenty steps away was her small dumbbell-shaped ship, so shiny andunscarred that it reflected starlight in highlights from its curvedsurface. A rich girl's ship, Bob Parker thought angrily. A month wouldbe too late!     He said grimly, Don't worry. I don't intend to pull any rough stuff.I just want you to listen to reason. You've taken a whim to stay onan asteroid that doesn't mean anything to you one way or another. Butto us—to me and Queazy here—it means our business. We got an orderfor this asteroid. Some screwball millionaire wants it for a backyardwedding see? We get five hundred and fifty thousand dollars for it!If we don't take this asteroid to Earth before June 2, we go back toSatterfield City and work the rest of our lives in the glass factories.Don't we, Queazy?     Queazy said simply, That's right, miss. We're in a spot. I assure youwe didn't expect to find someone living here.     The girl holstered her spasticizer, but her completely inhospitableexpression did not change. She put her hands on the bulging hips of herspace-suit. Okay, she said. Now I understand the conditions. Now weboth understand each other. G'bye again. I'm staying here and— shesmiled sweetly —it may interest you to know that if I let you havethe asteroid you'll save your business, but I'll meet a fate worse thandeath! So that's that.     Bob recognized finality when he saw it. Come on, Queazy, he saidfuming. Let this brat have her way. But if I ever run across herwithout a space-suit on I'm going to give her the licking of her life,right where it'll do the most good!     He turned angrily, but Queazy grabbed his arm, his mouth falling open.He pointed off into space, beyond the girl.     What's that? he whispered.     What's wha—      Oh!          Bob Parker's stomach caved in. A few hundred feet away, floatinggently toward the asteroid, came another ship—a ship a trifle biggerthan their own. The girl turned, too. They heard her gasp. In anothersecond, Bob was standing next to her. He turned the audio-switch to hisheadset off, and spoke to the girl by putting his helmet against hers.     Listen to me, miss, he snapped earnestly, when she tried to drawaway. Don't talk by radio. That ship belongs to the Saylor brothers!Oh, Lord, that this should happen! Somewhere along the line, we've beendouble-crossed. Those boys are after this asteroid too, and they won'thesitate to pull any rough stuff. We're in this together, understand?We got to back each other up.     The girl nodded dumbly. Suddenly she seemed to be frightened.It's—it's very important that this—this asteroid stay right where itis, she said huskily. What—what will they do?  <doc-sep>Purnie worked his way down the hill, imploring them to save themselves.The sounds they made carried a new tone, a desperate foreboding ofdeath.     Rhodes! Cabot! Can you hear me?     I—I can't move, Captain. My leg, it's.... My God, we're going todrown!     Look around you, Cabot. Can you see anyone moving?     The men on the beach are nearly buried, Captain. And the rest of ushere in the water—     Forbes. Can you see Forbes? Maybe he's— His sounds were cut off by awavelet gently rolling over his head.     Purnie could wait no longer. The tides were all but covering one of theanimals, and soon the others would be in the same plight. Disregardingthe consequences, he ordered time to stop.     Wading down into the surf, he worked a log off one victim, then hetugged the animal up to the sand. Through blinding tears, Purnie workedslowly and carefully. He knew there was no hurry—at least, not as faras his friends' safety was concerned. No matter what their conditionof life or death was at this moment, it would stay the same way untilhe started time again. He made his way deeper into the orange liquid,where a raised hand signalled the location of a submerged body. Thehand was clutching a large white banner that was tangled among thelogs. Purnie worked the animal free and pulled it ashore.     It was the one who had been carrying the shiny object that spit smoke.     Scarcely noticing his own injured leg, he ferried one victim afteranother until there were no more in the surf. Up on the beach, hestarted unraveling the logs that pinned down the animals caught there.He removed a log from the lap of one, who then remained in a sittingposition, his face contorted into a frozen mask of agony and shock.Another, with the weight removed, rolled over like an iron statue intoa new position. Purnie whimpered in black misery as he surveyed thechaotic scene before him.     At last he could do no more; he felt consciousness slipping away fromhim.     He instinctively knew that if he lost his senses during a period oftime-stopping, events would pick up where they had left off ... withouthim. For Purnie, this would be death. If he had to lose consciousness,he knew he must first resume time.     Step by step he plodded up the little hill, pausing every now and thento consider if this were the moment to start time before it was toolate. With his energy fast draining away, he reached the top of theknoll, and he turned to look down once more on the group below.     Then he knew how much his mind and body had suffered: when he orderedtime to resume, nothing happened.     His heart sank. He wasn't afraid of death, and he knew that if he diedthe oceans would roll again and his friends would move about. But hewanted to see them safe.     He tried to clear his mind for supreme effort. There was no      urging     time to start. He knew he couldn't persuade it by bits and pieces,first slowly then full ahead. Time either progressed or it didn't. Hehad to take one viewpoint or the other.     Then, without knowing exactly when it happened, his mind tookcommand....  <doc-sep>For more than a century, robotocists have been trying to build Asimov'sfamous Three Laws of Robotics into a robot brain.       First Law: A robot shall not, either through action or inaction, allowharm to come to a human being.         Second Law: A robot shall obey the orders of a human being, exceptwhen such orders conflict with the First Law     .     [15]       Third Law: A robot shall strive to protect its own existence, exceptwhen this conflicts with the First or Second Law.       Nobody has succeeded yet, because nobody has yet succeeded in definingthe term human being in such a way that the logical mind of a robotcan encompass the concept.     A traffic robot is useful only because the definition has been rigidlynarrowed down. As far as a traffic robot is concerned, human beingsare the automobiles on its highways. Woe betide any poor sap who tries,illegally, to cross a robot-controlled highway on foot. The robot'sonly concern would be with the safety of the automobiles, and if theonly way to avoid destruction of an automobile were to be by nudgingthe pedestrian aside with a fender, that's what would happen.     And, since its orders only come from one place, I suppose that atraffic robot thinks that the guy who uses that typer is an automobile.     With the first six models of the McGuire ships, the robotocistsattempted to build in the Three Laws exactly as stated. And the firstsix went insane.     If one human being says jump left, and another says jump right,the robot is unable to evaluate which human being has given the morevalid order. Feed enough confusing and conflicting data into a robotbrain, and it can begin behaving in ways that, in a human being, wouldbe called paranoia or schizophrenia or catatonia or what-have-you,depending  [16]  on the symptoms. And an insane robot is fully as dangerousas an insane human being controlling the same mechanical equipment, ifnot more so.     So the seventh model had been modified. The present McGuire's brain wasimpressed with slight modifications of the First and Second Laws.     If it is difficult to define a human being, it is much more difficultto define a      responsible     human being. One, in other words, who canbe relied upon to give wise and proper orders to a robot, who can berelied upon not to drive the robot insane.     The robotocists at Viking Spacecraft had decided to take anothertack. Very well, they'd said, if we can't define all the membersof a group, we can certainly define an individual. We'll pick oneresponsible person and build McGuire so that he will take orders onlyfrom that person.     As it turned out, I was that person. Just substitute Daniel Oakfor human being in the First and Second Laws, and you'll see howimportant I was to a certain spaceship named McGuire.  <doc-sep>Michael blushed. He should indeed. For a year prior to his leaving theLodge, he had carefully studied the customs and tabus of the Universeso that he should be able to enter the new life he planned for himself,with confidence and ease. Under the system of universal kinship, allthe customs and all the tabus of all the planets were the law on allthe other planets. For the Wise Ones had decided many years beforethat wars arose from not understanding one's fellows, not sympathizingwith them. If every nation, every planet, every solar system had thesame laws, customs, and habits, they reasoned, there would be nodifferences, and hence no wars.     Future events had proved them to be correct. For five hundred yearsthere had been no war in the United Universe, and there was peace andplenty for all. Only one crime was recognized throughout the solarsystems—injuring a fellow-creature by word or deed (and the telepathsof Aldebaran were still trying to add      thought     to the statute).     Why, then, Michael had questioned the Father Superior, was there anyreason for the Lodge's existence, any reason for a group of humans toretire from the world and live in the simple ways of their primitiveforefathers? When there had been war, injustice, tyranny, there had,perhaps, been an understandable emotional reason for fleeing theworld. But now why refuse to face a desirable reality? Why turn one'sface upon the present and deliberately go back to the life of thepast—the high collars, vests and trousers, the inefficient coalfurnaces, the rude gasoline tractors of medieval days?     The Father Superior had smiled. You are not yet a fully fledgedBrother, Michael. You cannot enter your novitiate until you've achievedyour majority, and you won't be thirty for another five years. Whydon't you spend some time outside and see how you like it?     Michael had agreed, but before leaving he had spent months studyingthe ways of the United Universe. He had skimmed over Earth, becausehe had been so sure he'd know its ways instinctively. Remembering hispreparations, he was astonished by his smug self-confidence.  <doc-sep>Ten minutes later, I was in my vacuum suit, walking across the glaring,rough-polished rectangle of metal that was the landing field ofRaven's Rest. The sun was near the zenith in the black, diamond-dustedsky, and the shadow of my flitterboat stood out like an inkblot ona bridal gown. I climbed in, started the engine, and released themagnetic anchor that held the little boat to the surface of thenickel-iron planetoid. I lifted her gently, worked her around until Iwas stationary in relation to the spinning planetoid, oriented myselfagainst the stellar background, and headed toward the first blinkerbeacon on my way to Ceres.     For obvious economical reasons, it it impracticable to use full-sizedspaceships in the Belt. A flitterboat, with a single gravitoinertialengine and the few necessities of life—air, some water, and a verylittle food—still costs more than a Rolls-Royce  [11]  automobile does onEarth, but there has to be some sort of individual transportation inthe Belt.     They can't be used for any great distances because a man can't stayin a vac suit very long without getting uncomfortable. You have tohop from beacon to beacon, which means that your      average     velocitydoesn't amount to much, since you spend too much time acceleratingand decelerating. But a flitterboat is enough to get around theneighborhood in, and that's all that's needed.     I got the GM-187 blinker in my sights, eased the acceleration up to onegee, relaxed to watch the radar screen while I thought over my comingordeal with McGuire.     Testing spaceships, robotic or any other kind, is strictly not mybusiness. The sign on the door of my office in New York says:      DANIELOAK, Confidential Expediter     ; I'm hired to help other people Get ThingsDone. Usually, if someone came to me with the problem of getting aspaceship test-piloted, I'd simply dig up the best test pilot in thebusiness, hire him for my client, and forget about everything butcollecting my fee. But I couldn't have refused this case if I'd wantedto. I'd already been assigned to it by someone a lot more importantthan Shalimar Ravenhurst.     Every schoolchild who has taken a course in Government Organization andFunction can tell you that the Political Survey Division is a branch ofthe System Census Bureau of the UN Government, and that its job is toevaluate the political activities of  [12]  various sub-governments all overthe System.     And every one of those poor tykes would be dead wrong.     The Political Survey Division      does     evaluate political activity, allright, but it is the Secret Service of the UN Government. The vastmajority of  [13]  the System's citizens don't even know the Government hasa Secret Service. I happen to know only because I'm an agent of thePolitical Survey Division.     The PSD was vitally interested in the whole McGuire project. Robots ofMcGuire's complexity had been built before; the robot that runs thetraffic patterns of the American Eastern Seaboard is just as capableas McGuire when it comes to handling a tremendous number of variablesand making decisions on them. But that robot didn't have to be givenorders except in extreme emergencies. Keeping a few million cars movingand safe at the same time is actually pretty routine stuff for a robot.And a traffic robot isn't given orders verbally; it is given any ordersthat may be necessary via teletype by a trained programming technician.Those orders are usually in reference to a change of routing due torepair work on the highways or the like. The robot itself can take careof such emergencies as bad weather or even an accident caused by themalfunctioning of an individual automobile.     McGuire was different. In the first place, he was mobile. He was incommand of a spacecraft. In a sense, he      was     the spacecraft, since itserved him in a way that was analogous to the way a human body servesthe human mind. And he wasn't in charge of millions of objects with atop velocity of a hundred and fifty miles an hour; he was in chargeof a single object that moved at velocities of thousands of miles persecond. Nor  [14]  did he have a set, unmoving highway as his path; his pathswere variable and led through the emptiness of space.     Unforeseen emergencies can happen at any time in space, most of themhaving to do with the lives of passengers. A cargo ship would besomewhat less susceptible to such emergencies if there were no humansaboard; it doesn't matter much to a robot if he has no air in his hull.     But with passengers aboard, there may be times when it would benecessary to give orders—      fast     ! And that means verbal orders, ordersthat can be given anywhere in the ship and relayed immediately bymicrophone to the robot's brain. A man doesn't have time to run to ateletyper and type out orders when there's an emergency in space.     That meant that McGuire had to understand English, and, since there hasto be feedback in communication, he had to be able to speak it as well.     And that made McGuire more than somewhat difficult to deal with.  <doc-sep>He looked at himself in the mirror and found he had a fine new body;tall and strikingly handsome in a dark, coarse-featured way. Nothing tomatch the one he had lost, in his opinion, but there were probably manypeople who might find this one preferable. No identification in thepockets, but it wasn't necessary; he recognized the face. Not that itwas a very famous or even notorious one, but the dutchman was a carefulstudent of the wanted fax that had decorated public buildings fromtime immemorial, for he was ever mindful of the possibility that hemight one day find himself trapped unwittingly in the body of one ofthe men depicted there. And he knew that this particular man, thoughnot an important criminal in any sense of the word, was one whom thepolice had been ordered to burn on sight. The abolishing of capitalpunishment could not abolish the necessity for self-defense, and theman in question was not one who would let himself be captured easily,nor whom the police intended to capture easily.       This might be a lucky break for me after all     , the new tenant thought,as he tried to adjust himself to the body. It, too, despite its obviousrude health, was not a very comfortable fit.      I can do a lot with ahulk like this. And maybe I'm cleverer than the original owner; maybeI'll be able to get away with it.        IV     Look, Gabe, the girl said, don't try to fool me! I know youtoo well. And I know you have that man's—the real GabrielLockard's—body. She put unnecessary stardust on her nose as shewatched her husband's reflection in the dressing table mirror.     Lockard—Lockard's body, at any rate—sat up and felt his unshavenchin. That what he tell you?     No, he didn't tell me anything really—just suggested I ask youwhatever I want to know. But why else should he guard somebody heobviously hates the way he hates you? Only because he doesn't want tosee his body spoiled.     It      is     a pretty good body, isn't it? Gabe flexed softening musclesand made no attempt to deny her charge; very probably he was relievedat having someone with whom to share his secret.     Not as good as it must have been, the girl said, turning and lookingat him without admiration. Not if you keep on the way you're coursing.Gabe, why don't you...?     Give it back to him, eh? Lockard regarded his wife appraisingly.You'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd be      his     wife then. That would benice—a sound mind in a sound body. But don't you think that's a littlemore than you deserve?     I wasn't thinking about that, Gabe, she said truthfully enough, forshe hadn't followed the idea to its logical conclusion. Of course I'dgo with you, she went on, now knowing she lied, when you got your ...old body back.       Sure     , she thought,      I'd keep going with you to farjeen houses andthrill-mills.     Actually she had accompanied him to a thrill-mill onlyonce, and from then on, despite all his threats, she had refused to gowith him again. But that once had been enough; nothing could ever washthat experience from her mind or her body.     You wouldn't be able to get your old body back, though, would you?she went on. You don't know where it's gone, and neither, I suppose,does he?     I don't want to know! he spat. I wouldn't want it if I could getit back. Whoever it adhered to probably killed himself as soon as helooked in a mirror. He swung long legs over the side of his bed.Christ, anything would be better than that! You can't imagine what ahulk I had!     Oh, yes, I can, she said incautiously. You must have had a body tomatch your character. Pity you could only change one.  <doc-sep>He stood then in the middle of the room, arms akimbo, his head swimmingwith glory—and remembered suddenly that he was hungry. He felt in thecontainer of his helmet, extracted a couple of food tablets, and poppedthem into his mouth.     They would take care of his needs, but they didn't satisfy his hunger.No food tablets for him after this! Steaks, wines, souffles.... Hismouth began to water at the very thought.     And then the robot rolled on soundless wheels into the room. Symewhirled and saw it only when it was almost upon him. The thing wasremarkably lifelike, and for a moment he was startled.     But it was not alive. It was only a Martian feeding-machine, kept inrepair all these millennia by other robots. It was not intelligent,and so it did not know that its masters would never return. It did notknow, either, that Syme was not a Martian, or that he wanted a steak,and not the distilled liquor of the      xopa     fungus, which still grew inthe subterranean gardens of Kal-Jmar. It was capable only of receivingthe mental impulse of hunger, and of responding to that impulse.     And so when Syme saw it and opened his mouth in startlement, therobot acted as it had done with its degenerate, slothful masters. Itsflexible feeding tube darted out and half down the man's gullet beforehe could move to avoid it. And down Syme Rector's throat poured a floodof      xopa     -juice, nectar to Martians, but swift, terrible death to humanbeings....     Outside, the last doorway to Kal-Jmar closed forever, across from thecold body of Tate.   <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What are the Equalization Laws and how do they relate to the new world order depicted in MASTER of Life and Death?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the backdrop of the story MASTER of Life and Death? [SEP] <s>He stood then in the middle of the room, arms akimbo, his head swimmingwith glory—and remembered suddenly that he was hungry. He felt in thecontainer of his helmet, extracted a couple of food tablets, and poppedthem into his mouth.     They would take care of his needs, but they didn't satisfy his hunger.No food tablets for him after this! Steaks, wines, souffles.... Hismouth began to water at the very thought.     And then the robot rolled on soundless wheels into the room. Symewhirled and saw it only when it was almost upon him. The thing wasremarkably lifelike, and for a moment he was startled.     But it was not alive. It was only a Martian feeding-machine, kept inrepair all these millennia by other robots. It was not intelligent,and so it did not know that its masters would never return. It did notknow, either, that Syme was not a Martian, or that he wanted a steak,and not the distilled liquor of the      xopa     fungus, which still grew inthe subterranean gardens of Kal-Jmar. It was capable only of receivingthe mental impulse of hunger, and of responding to that impulse.     And so when Syme saw it and opened his mouth in startlement, therobot acted as it had done with its degenerate, slothful masters. Itsflexible feeding tube darted out and half down the man's gullet beforehe could move to avoid it. And down Syme Rector's throat poured a floodof      xopa     -juice, nectar to Martians, but swift, terrible death to humanbeings....     Outside, the last doorway to Kal-Jmar closed forever, across from thecold body of Tate.   <doc-sep>  THE GIANTS RETURN     By ROBERT ABERNATHY     Earth set itself grimly to meet them with     corrosive fire, determined to blast them     back to the stars. But they erred in thinking     the Old Ones were too big to be clever.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      In the last hours the star ahead had grown brighter by many magnitudes,and had changed its color from a dazzling blue through white to thenormal yellow, of a GO sun. That was the Doppler effect as the star'sradial velocity changed relative to the      Quest III     , as for forty hoursthe ship had decelerated.     They had seen many such stars come near out of the galaxy's glitteringbackdrop, and had seen them dwindle, turn red and go out as the      QuestIII     drove on its way once more, lashed by despair toward the speed oflight, leaving behind the mockery of yet another solitary and lifelessluminary unaccompanied by worlds where men might dwell. They had grownsated with the sight of wonders—of multiple systems of giant stars, ofnebulae that sprawled in empty flame across light years.     But now unwonted excitement possessed the hundred-odd members of the      Quest III's     crew. It was a subdued excitement; men and women, theycame and stood quietly gazing into the big vision screens that showedthe oncoming star, and there were wide-eyed children who had been bornin the ship and had never seen a planet. The grownups talked in lowvoices, in tones of mingled eagerness and apprehension, of what mightlie at the long journey's end. For the      Quest III     was coming home; thesun ahead was      the     Sun, whose rays had warmed their lives' beginning.  <doc-sep>   The Sense of Wonder     By MILTON LESSER     Illustrated by HARRY ROSENBAUM     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      When nobody aboard ship remembers where it's     going, how can they tell when it has arrived?      Every day for a week now, Rikud had come to the viewport to watchthe great changeless sweep of space. He could not quite explain thefeelings within him; they were so alien, so unnatural. But ever sincethe engines somewhere in the rear of the world had changed their tone,from the steady whining Rikud had heard all twenty-five years of hislife, to the sullen roar that came to his ears now, the feelings hadgrown.     If anyone else had noticed the change, he failed to mention it. Thisdisturbed Rikud, although he could not tell why. And, because he hadrealized this odd difference in himself, he kept it locked up insidehim.     Today, space looked somehow different. The stars—it was a meaninglessconcept to Rikud, but that was what everyone called the brightpinpoints of light on the black backdrop in the viewport—were notapparent in the speckled profusion Rikud had always known. Instead,there was more of the blackness, and one very bright star set apartby itself in the middle of the viewport.     If he had understood the term, Rikud would have told himself this wasodd. His head ached with the half-born thought. It was—it was—whatwas it?     Someone was clomping up the companionway behind Rikud. He turned andgreeted gray-haired old Chuls.     In five more years, the older man chided, you'll be ready to sirechildren. And all you can do in the meantime is gaze out at the stars.     Rikud knew he should be exercising now, or bathing in the rays of thehealth-lamps. It had never occurred to him that he didn't feel like it;he just didn't, without comprehending.     Chuls' reminder fostered uneasiness. Often Rikud had dreamed of thetime he would be thirty and a father. Whom would the Calculator selectas his mate? The first time this idea had occurred to him, Rikudignored it. But it came again, and each time it left him with a feelinghe could not explain. Why should he think thoughts that no other manhad? Why should he think he was thinking such thoughts, when it alwaysembroiled him in a hopeless, infinite confusion that left him with aheadache?     Chuls said, It is time for my bath in the health-rays. I saw you hereand knew it was your time, too....     His voice trailed off. Rikud knew that something which he could notexplain had entered the elder man's head for a moment, but it haddeparted almost before Chuls knew of its existence.     I'll go with you, Rikud told him.  <doc-sep>Bob Parker came to, the emptiness of remote starlight in his face. Heopened his eyes. He was slowly revolving on an axis. Sometimes the Sunswept across his line of vision. A cold hammering began at the base ofhis skull, a sensation similar to that of being buried alive. There wasno asteroid, no girl, no Queazy. He was alone in the vastness of space.Alone in a space-suit.     Queazy! he whispered. Queazy! I'm running out of air!     There was no answer from Queazy. With sick eyes, Bob studied theoxygen indicator. There was only five pounds pressure. Five pounds!That meant he had been floating around out here—how long? Days atleast—maybe weeks! It was evident that somebody had given him a doseof spastic rays, enough to screw up every muscle in his body to thesnapping point, putting him in such a condition of suspended animationthat his oxygen needs were small. He closed his eyes, trying to fightagainst panic. He was glad he couldn't see any part of his body. He wasprobably scrawny. And he was hungry!     I'll starve, he thought. Or suffocate to death first!     He couldn't keep himself from taking in great gulps of air. Minutes,then hours passed. He was breathing abnormally, and there wasn't enoughair in the first place. He pleaded continually for Queazy, hopingthat somehow Queazy could help, when probably Queazy was in the samecondition. He ripped out wild curses directed at the Saylor brothers.Murderers, both of them! Up until this time, he had merely thought ofthem as business rivals. If he ever got out of this—     He groaned. He never would get out of it! After another hour, he wasgasping weakly, and yellow spots danced in his eyes. He called Queazy'sname once more, knowing that was the last time he would have strengthto call it.     And this time the headset spoke back!     Bob Parker made a gurgling sound. A voice came again, washed withstatic, far away, burbling, but excited. Bob made a rattling sound inhis throat. Then his eyes started to close, but he imagined that he sawa ship, shiny and small, driving toward him, growing in size againstthe backdrop of the Milky Way. He relapsed, a terrific buzzing in hisears.     He did not lose consciousness. He heard voices, Queazy's and thegirl's, whoever she was. Somebody grabbed hold of his foot. Hisaquarium was unbuckled and good air washed over his streaming face.The sudden rush of oxygen to his brain dizzied him. Then he was lyingon a bunk, and gradually the world beyond his sick body focussed in hisclearing eyes and he knew he was alive—and going to stay that way, forawhile anyway.     Thanks, Queazy, he said huskily.     Queazy was bending over him, his anxiety clearing away from hissuddenly brightening face.     Don't thank me, he whispered. We'd have both been goners if ithadn't been for her. The Saylor brothers left her paralyzed likeus, and when she woke up she was on a slow orbit around her ship.She unstrapped her holster and threw it away from her and it gaveher enough reaction to reach the ship. She got inside and used thedirection-finder on the telaudio and located me first. The Saylorsscattered us far and wide. Queazy's broad, normally good-humored facetwisted blackly. The so and so's didn't care if we lived or died.     Bob saw the girl now, standing a little behind Queazy, looking down athim curiously, but unhappily. Her space-suit was off. She was wearinglightly striped blue slacks and blue silk blouse and she had a paperflower in her hair. Something in Bob's stomach caved in as his eyeswidened on her.     The girl said glumly, I guess you men won't much care for me when youfind out who I am and what I've done. I'm Starre Lowenthal—Andrew S.Burnside's granddaughter!  <doc-sep>It took three weeks to make the return trip to Swamp City. The Varsoomfollowed us far beyond the frontier of their country like an unseenarmy in the throes of laughing gas. Not until we reached Level Five didthe last chuckle fade into the distance.     All during that trek back, Grannie sat in the dugout, staring silentlyout before her.     But when we reached Swamp City, the news was flung at us from allsides. One newspaper headline accurately told the story: DOCTORUNIVERSE BID FOR SYSTEM DICTATORSHIP SQUELCHED BY RIDICULE OF UNSEENAUDIENCE. QUIZ MASTER NOW IN HANDS OF I.P. COUP FAILURE.     Grannie, I said that night as we sat again in a rear booth of THEJET, what are you going to do now? Give up writing science fiction?     She looked at me soberly, then broke into a smile.     Just because some silly form of life that can't even be seen doesn'tappreciate it? I should say not. Right now I've got an idea for a swellyarn about Mars. Want to come along while I dig up some backgroundmaterial?     I shook my head. Not me, I said.     But I knew I would.   <doc-sep>Verana snapped her fingers. So that's why the aliens read Marie'smind! They wanted to learn our language so they could talk to us!     Kane whirled in a complete circle, glaring at each of the four walls.Where are you?      Who     are you?     I'm located in a part of the ship you can't reach. I'm a machine.     Is anyone else aboard besides ourselves?     No. I control the ship. Although the voice spoke without stiltedphrases, the tone was cold and mechanical.     What are your—your masters going to do with us? Marie askedanxiously.     You won't be harmed. My masters merely wish to question and examineyou. Thousands of years ago, they wondered what your race would be likewhen it developed to the space-flight stage. They left this ship onyour Moon only because they were curious. My masters have no animositytoward your race, only compassion and curiosity.     I remembered the way antigravity rays had shoved Miller from the shipand asked the machine, Why didn't you let our fifth member board theship?     The trip to my makers' planet will take six months. There are food,oxygen and living facilities for four only of your race. I had toprevent the fifth from entering the ship.     Come on, Kane ordered. We'll search this ship room by room and we'llfind some way to make it take us back to Earth.     It's useless, the ship warned us.     For five hours, we minutely examined every room. We had no tools toforce our way through solid metal walls to the engine or control rooms.The only things in the ship that could be lifted and carried about werethe containers of food and alien games. None were sufficiently heavy orhard enough to put even a scratch in the heavy metal.  <doc-sep>Bob's nose twitched as he adjusted his glasses, which he wore eveninside his suit. He couldn't think of anything pertinent to say. Heknew that he was slowly working up a blush. Mildly speaking, thegirl was beautiful, and though only her carefully made-up face wasvisible—cool blue eyes, masterfully coiffed, upswept, glinting brownhair, wilful lips and chin—Bob suspected the rest of her comparednicely.     Her expression darkened as she saw the completely instinctive way hewas looking at her and her radioed-voice rapped out, Now you two boysgo and play somewhere else! Else I'll let the Interplanetary Commissionknow you've infringed the law. G'bye!     She turned and disappeared.     Bob awoke from his trance, shouted desperately, Hey! Wait!      You!          He and Queazy caught up with her on the side of the asteroid theyhadn't yet examined. It was a rough plane, completing the rigidqualifications Burnside had set down.     Wait a minute, Bob Parker begged nervously. I want to make someconversation, lady. I'm sure you don't understand the conditions—     The girl turned and drew a gun from a holster. It was a spasticizer,and it was three times as big as her gloved hand.     I understand conditions better than you do, she said. You wantto move this asteroid from its orbit and haul it back to Earth.Unfortunately, this is my home, by common law. Come back in a month. Idon't expect to be here then.     A month! Parker burst the word out. He started to sweat, then hisface became grim. He took two slow steps toward the girl. She blinkedand lost her composure and unconsciously backed up two steps. Abouttwenty steps away was her small dumbbell-shaped ship, so shiny andunscarred that it reflected starlight in highlights from its curvedsurface. A rich girl's ship, Bob Parker thought angrily. A month wouldbe too late!     He said grimly, Don't worry. I don't intend to pull any rough stuff.I just want you to listen to reason. You've taken a whim to stay onan asteroid that doesn't mean anything to you one way or another. Butto us—to me and Queazy here—it means our business. We got an orderfor this asteroid. Some screwball millionaire wants it for a backyardwedding see? We get five hundred and fifty thousand dollars for it!If we don't take this asteroid to Earth before June 2, we go back toSatterfield City and work the rest of our lives in the glass factories.Don't we, Queazy?     Queazy said simply, That's right, miss. We're in a spot. I assure youwe didn't expect to find someone living here.     The girl holstered her spasticizer, but her completely inhospitableexpression did not change. She put her hands on the bulging hips of herspace-suit. Okay, she said. Now I understand the conditions. Now weboth understand each other. G'bye again. I'm staying here and— shesmiled sweetly —it may interest you to know that if I let you havethe asteroid you'll save your business, but I'll meet a fate worse thandeath! So that's that.     Bob recognized finality when he saw it. Come on, Queazy, he saidfuming. Let this brat have her way. But if I ever run across herwithout a space-suit on I'm going to give her the licking of her life,right where it'll do the most good!     He turned angrily, but Queazy grabbed his arm, his mouth falling open.He pointed off into space, beyond the girl.     What's that? he whispered.     What's wha—      Oh!          Bob Parker's stomach caved in. A few hundred feet away, floatinggently toward the asteroid, came another ship—a ship a trifle biggerthan their own. The girl turned, too. They heard her gasp. In anothersecond, Bob was standing next to her. He turned the audio-switch to hisheadset off, and spoke to the girl by putting his helmet against hers.     Listen to me, miss, he snapped earnestly, when she tried to drawaway. Don't talk by radio. That ship belongs to the Saylor brothers!Oh, Lord, that this should happen! Somewhere along the line, we've beendouble-crossed. Those boys are after this asteroid too, and they won'thesitate to pull any rough stuff. We're in this together, understand?We got to back each other up.     The girl nodded dumbly. Suddenly she seemed to be frightened.It's—it's very important that this—this asteroid stay right where itis, she said huskily. What—what will they do?  <doc-sep>For several minutes, we sampled the different foods. Every one had adistinctive flavor, comparable to that of a fruit or vegetable on Earth.     Kane lifted a brown bottle to his lips, took a huge gulp and almostchoked.     Whiskey!     My masters realized your race would develop intoxicants and tried tocreate a comparable one, the machine explained.     I selected a brown bottle and sampled the liquid. A little strongerthan our own, I informed the machine.     We drank until Kane was staggering about the room, shouting insults atthe alien race and the mechanical voice that seemed to be everywhere.He beat his fist against a wall until blood trickled from bruisedknuckles.     Please don't hurt yourself, the machine pleaded.           Why?      Kane screamed at the ceiling. Why should you care?     My masters will be displeased with me if you arrive in a damagedcondition.     Kane banged his head against a bulkhead; an ugly bruise formed rapidly.Shtop me, then!     I can't. My masters created no way for me to restrain or contact youother than use of your language.     It took fully fifteen minutes to drag Kane to his sleeping compartment.     After I left Kane in his wife's care, I went to the adjoining room andstretched out on the soft floor beside Verana.     I tried to think of some solution. We were locked in an alien ship atthe start of a six months' journey to a strange planet. We had no toolsor weapons.     Solution? I doubted if two dozen geniuses working steadily for yearscould think of one!     I wondered what the alien race was like. Intelligent, surely: They hadforeseen our conquest of space flight when we hadn't even inventedthe wheel. That thought awed me—somehow they had analyzed our brainsthousands of years ago and calculated what our future accomplishmentswould be.     They had been able to predict our scientific development, but theyhadn't been able to tell how our civilization would develop. They werecurious, so they had left an enormously elaborate piece of bait on theMoon.     The aliens were incredibly more advanced than ourselves. I couldn'thelp thinking,      And to a rabbit in a snare, mankind must seemimpossibly clever     .     I decided to ask the machine about its makers in the morning.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the backdrop of the story MASTER of Life and Death?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What role does Fred Walton play in the story MASTER of Life and Death? [SEP] <s>Five doctors were bustling back and forth as Walton entered the mainsection of the clinic. There must have been a hundred babies there,each in a little pen of its own, and the doctors were humming from oneto the next, while anxious parents watched from screens above.     The Equalization Law provided that every child be presented at itslocal clinic within two weeks of birth, for an examination and acertificate. Perhaps one in ten thousand would be denied acertificate ... and life.     Hello, Mr. Walton. What brings you down here?     Walton smiled affably. Just a routine investigation, Doctor. I try tokeep in touch with every department we have, you know.     Mr. FitzMaugham was down here to look around a little while ago. We'rereally getting a going-over today, Mr. Walton!     Umm. Yes. Walton didn't like that, but there was nothing he coulddo about it. He'd have to rely on the old man's abiding faith in hisprotégé to pull him out of any possible stickiness that arose.     Seen my brother around? he asked.     Fred? He's working in room seven, running analyses. Want me to get himfor you, Mr. Walton?     No—no, don't bother him, thanks. I'll find him later. Inwardly,Walton felt relieved. Fred Walton, his younger brother, was a doctor inthe employ of Popeek. Little love was lost between the brothers, andRoy did not care to have Fred know he was down there.     Strolling casually through the clinic, he peered at a few plump,squalling babies, and said, Find many sour ones today?     Seven so far. They're scheduled for the 1100 chamber. Three tuberc,two blind, one congenital syph.     That only makes six, Walton said.     Oh, and a spastic, the doctor said. Biggest haul we've had yet.Seven in one morning.     Have any trouble with the parents?     What do you think? the doctor asked. But some of them seemed tounderstand. One of the tuberculars nearly raised the roof, though.     Walton shuddered. You remember his name? he asked, with feigned calm.     Silence for a moment. No. Darned if I can think of it. I can look itup for you if you like.     Don't bother, Walton said hurriedly.     He moved on, down the winding corridor that led to the executionchamber. Falbrough, the executioner, was studying a list of names athis desk when Walton appeared.     Falbrough didn't look like the sort of man who would enjoy his work. Hewas short and plump, with a high-domed bald head and glittering contactlenses in his weak blue eyes. Morning, Mr. Walton.     Good morning, Doctor Falbrough. You'll be operating soon, won't you?     Eleven hundred, as usual.     Good. There's a new regulation in effect from now on, Walton said.To keep public opinion on our side.     Sir?     Henceforth, until further notice, you're to check each baby thatcomes to you against the main file, just to make sure there's been nomistake. Got that?           Mistake?     But how—     Never mind that, Falbrough. There was quite a tragic slip-up at oneof the European centers yesterday. We may all hang for it if news getsout.      How glibly I reel this stuff off     , Walton thought in amazement.     Falbrough looked grave. I see, sir. Of course. We'll double-checkeverything from now on.     Good. Begin with the 1100 batch.     Walton couldn't bear to remain down in the clinic any longer. He leftvia a side exit, and signaled for a lift tube.     Minutes later he was back in his office, behind the security of atowering stack of work. His pulse was racing; his throat was dry. Heremembered what FitzMaugham had said:      Once we make even one exception,the whole framework crumbles.       Well, the framework had begun crumbling, then. And there was littledoubt in Walton's mind that FitzMaugham knew or would soon know what hehad done. He would have to cover his traces, somehow.     The annunciator chimed and said, Dr. Falbrough of Happysleep callingyou, sir.     Put him on.     The screen lit and Falbrough's face appeared; its normal blandness hadgiven way to wild-eyed tenseness.     What is it, Doctor?     It's a good thing you issued that order when you did, sir! You'llnever guess what just happened—     No guessing games, Falbrough. Speak up.     I—well, sir, I ran checks on the seven babies they sent me thismorning. And guess—I mean—well, one of them shouldn't have been sentto me!     No!     It's the truth, sir. A cute little baby indeed. I've got his cardright here. The boy's name is Philip Prior, and his gene-pattern isfine.     Any recommendation for euthanasia on the card? Walton asked.     No, sir.     Walton chewed at a ragged cuticle for a moment, counterfeiting greatanxiety. Falbrough, we're going to have to keep this very quiet.Someone slipped up in the examining room, and if word gets out thatthere's been as much as one mistake, we'll have a mob swarming over usin half an hour.     Yes, sir. Falbrough looked terribly grave. What should I do, sir?     Don't say a word about this to      anyone     , not even the men in theexamining room. Fill out a certificate for the boy, find his parents,apologize and return him to them. And make sure you keep checking forany future cases of this sort.     Certainly, sir. Is that all?     It is, Walton said crisply, and broke the contact. He took a deepbreath and stared bleakly at the far wall.     The Prior boy was safe. And in the eyes of the law—the EqualizationLaw—Roy Walton was now a criminal. He was every bit as much a criminalas the man who tried to hide his dying father from the investigators,or the anxious parents who attempted to bribe an examining doctor.     He felt curiously dirty. And, now that he had betrayed FitzMaugham andthe Cause, now that it was done, he had little idea why he had doneit, why he had jeopardized the Popeek program, his position—his life,even—for the sake of one potentially tubercular baby.     Well, the thing was done.     No. Not quite. Later, when things had quieted down, he would have tofinish the job by transferring all the men in the clinic to distantplaces and by obliterating the computer's memories of this morning'sactivities.     The annunciator chimed again. Your brother is on the wire, sir.     Walton trembled imperceptibly as he said, Put him on. Somehow, Frednever called unless he could say or do something unpleasant. AndWalton was very much afraid that his brother meant no good by thiscall. No good at all.      III     Roy Walton watched his brother's head and shoulders take form out ofthe swirl of colors on the screen. Fred Walton was more compact, builtcloser to the ground than his rangy brother; he was a squat five-seven,next to Roy's lean six-two. Fred had always threatened to get evenwith his older brother as soon as they were the same size, but toFred's great dismay he had never managed to catch up with Roy in height.     Even on the screen, Fred's neck and shoulders gave an impression oftremendous solidity and force. Walton waited for his brother's image totake shape, and when the time lag was over he said, Well, Fred? Whatgoes?     His brother's eyes flickered sleepily. They tell me you were down herea little while ago, Roy. How come I didn't rate a visit?     I wasn't in your section. It was official business, anyway. I didn'thave time.     Walton fixed his eyes sharply on the caduceus emblem gleaming on Fred'slapel, and refused to look anywhere else.     Fred said slowly, You had time to tinker with our computer, though.     Official business!     Really, Roy? His brother's tone was venomous. I happened tobe using the computer shortly after you this morning. I wascurious—unpardonably so, dear brother. I requested a transcript ofyour conversation with the machine.     Sparks seemed to flow from the screen. Walton sat back, feeling numb.He managed to pull his sagging mouth back into a stiff hard line andsay, That's a criminal offense, Fred. Any use I make of a Popeekcomputer outlet is confidential.     Criminal offence? Maybe so ... but that makes two of us, then. Eh,Roy?     How much do you know?     You wouldn't want me to recite it over a public communications system,would you? Your friend FitzMaugham might be listening to every word ofthis, and I have too much fraternal feeling for that. Ole Doc Waltondoesn't want to get his bigwig big brother in trouble—oh, no!     Thanks for small blessings, Roy said acidly.     You got me this job. You can take it away. Let's call it even for now,shall we?     Anything you like, Walton said. He was drenched in sweat, thoughthe ingenious executive filter in the sending apparatus of the screencloaked that fact and presented him as neat and fresh. I have somework to do now. His voice was barely audible.     I won't keep you any longer, then, Fred said.     The screen went dead.     Walton killed the contact at his end, got up, walked to the window. Henudged the opaquer control and the frosty white haze over the glasscleared away, revealing the fantastic beehive of the city outside.       Idiot!     he thought.      Fool!       He had risked everything to save one baby, one child probably doomedto an early death anyway. And FitzMaugham knew—the old man could seethrough Walton with ease—and Fred knew, too. His brother, and hisfather-substitute.     FitzMaugham might well choose to conceal Roy's defection this time,but would surely place less trust in him in the future. And as forFred....     There was no telling what Fred might do. They had never beenparticularly close as brothers; they had lived with their parents (nowalmost totally forgotten) until Roy was nine and Fred seven. Theirparents had gone down off Maracaibo in a jet crash; Roy and Fred hadbeen sent to the public crèche.     After that it had been separate paths for the brothers. For Roy, aneducation in the law, a short spell as Senator FitzMaugham's privatesecretary, followed last month by his sudden elevation to assistantadministrator of the newly-created Popeek Bureau. For Fred, medicine,unsuccessful private practice, finally a job in the Happysleep sectionof Popeek, thanks to Roy.   <doc-sep>     MASTER       of Life and Death       by     ROBERT SILVERBERG     ACE BOOKS     A Division of A. A. Wyn, Inc.     23 West 47th Street, New York 36, N. Y.     MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH     Copyright 1957, by A. A. Wyn, Inc.     All Rights Reserved     For Antigone—     Who Thinks We're Property     Printed in U.S.A.     [Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any     evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      THE MAN WHO RATIONED BABIES     By the 23rd century Earth's population had reached seven billion.Mankind was in danger of perishing for lack of elbow room—unlessprompt measures were taken. Roy Walton had the power to enforce thosemeasures. But though his job was in the service of humanity, he soonfound himself the most hated man in the world.     For it was      his     job to tell parents their children were unfit to live;      he     had to uproot people from their homes and send them to remoteareas of the world. Now, threatened by mobs of outraged citizens,denounced and blackened by the press, Roy Walton had to make adecision: resign his post, or use his power to destroy his enemies,become a dictator in the hopes of saving humanity from its own folly.In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH?      CAST OF CHARACTERS     ROY WALTON     He had to adopt the motto—      the ends justify the means     .     FITZMAUGHAM     His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet.     FRED WALTON     His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimatedtheir size.     LEE PERCY     His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills.     PRIOR     With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son?     DR. LAMARRE     He died for discovering the secret of immortality.      Contents      I     The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly knownas Popeek, were located on the twentieth through twenty-ninth floorsof the Cullen Building, a hundred-story monstrosity typical oftwenty-second-century neo-Victorian at its overdecorated worst. RoyWalton, Popeek's assistant administrator, had to apologize to himselfeach morning as he entered the hideous place.     Since taking the job, he had managed to redecorate his own office—onthe twenty-eighth floor, immediately below Director FitzMaugham's—butthat had created only one minor oasis in the esthetically repugnantbuilding. It couldn't be helped, though; Popeek was unpopular, thoughnecessary; and, like the public hangman of some centuries earlier, theBureau did not rate attractive quarters.     So Walton had removed some of the iridescent chrome scalloping thattrimmed the walls, replaced the sash windows with opaquers, and changedthe massive ceiling fixture to more subtle electroluminescents. But themark of the last century was stamped irrevocably on both building andoffice.     Which was as it should be, Walton had finally realized. It was the lastcentury's foolishness that had made Popeek necessary, after all.     His desk was piled high with reports, and more kept arriving viapneumochute every minute. The job of assistant administrator wasa thankless one, he thought; as much responsibility as DirectorFitzMaugham, and half the pay.     He lifted a report from one eyebrow-high stack, smoothed the crinklypaper carefully, and read it.     It was a despatch from Horrocks, the Popeek agent currently on duty inPatagonia. It was dated      4 June 2232     , six days before, and after along and rambling prologue in the usual Horrocks manner it went on tosay,      Population density remains low here: 17.3 per square mile, farbelow optimum. Looks like a prime candidate for equalization.       Walton agreed. He reached for his voicewrite and said sharply, Memofrom Assistant Administrator Walton, re equalization of ... He paused,picking a trouble-spot at random, ... central Belgium. Will thesection chief in charge of this area please consider the advisabilityof transferring population excess to fertile areas in Patagonia?Recommendation: establishment of industries in latter region, to easetransition.     He shut his eyes, dug his thumbs into them until bright flares of lightshot across his eyeballs, and refused to let himself be bothered bythe multiple problems involved in dumping several hundred thousandBelgians into Patagonia. He forced himself to cling to one of DirectorFitzMaugham's oft-repeated maxims,      If you want to stay sane, think ofthese people as pawns in a chess game—not as human beings.       Walton sighed. This was the biggest chess problem in the history ofhumanity, and the way it looked now, all the solutions led to checkmatein a century or less. They could keep equalizing population only solong, shifting like loggers riding logs in a rushing river, beforetrouble came.     There was another matter to be attended to now. He picked up thevoicewrite again. Memo from the assistant administrator, reestablishment of new policy on reports from local agents: hire a staffof three clever girls to make a précis of each report, eliminatingirrelevant data.     It was a basic step, one that should have been taken long ago. Now,with three feet of reports stacked on his desk, it was mandatory. Oneof the troubles with Popeek was its newness; it had been established sosuddenly that most of its procedures were still in the formative stage.     He took another report from the heap. This one was the data sheet ofthe Zurich Euthanasia Center, and he gave it a cursory scanning. Duringthe past week, eleven substandard children and twenty-three substandardadults had been sent on to Happysleep.     That was the grimmest form of population equalization. Walton initialedthe report, earmarked it for files, and dumped it in the pneumochute.     The annunciator chimed.     I'm busy, Walton said immediately.     There's a Mr. Prior to see you, the annunciator's calm voice said.He insists it's an emergency.     Tell Mr. Prior I can't see anyone for at least three hours. Waltonstared gloomily at the growing pile of paper on his desk. Tell him hecan have ten minutes with me at—oh, say, 1300.     Walton heard an angry male voice muttering something in the outeroffice, and then the annunciator said, He insists he must see youimmediately in reference to a Happysleep commitment.     Commitments are irrevocable, Walton said heavily. The last thing inthe world he wanted was to see a man whose child or parent had justbeen committed. Tell Mr. Prior I can't see him at all.     Walton found his fingers trembling; he clamped them tight to the edgeof his desk to steady himself. It was all right sitting up here in thisugly building and initialing commitment papers, but actually to      see     one of those people and try to convince him of the need—     The door burst open.     A tall, dark-haired man in an open jacket came rushing through andpaused dramatically just over the threshold. Immediately behind himcame three unsmiling men in the gray silk-sheen uniforms of security.They carried drawn needlers.     Are you Administrator Walton? the big man asked, in an astonishinglydeep, rich voice. I have to see you. I'm Lyle Prior.     The three security men caught up and swarmed all over Prior. One ofthem turned apologetically to Walton. We're terribly sorry about this,sir. He just broke away and ran. We can't understand how he got inhere, but he did.     Ah—yes. So I noticed, Walton remarked drily. See if he's planningto assassinate anybody, will you?     Administrator Walton! Prior protested. I'm a man of peace! How canyou accuse me of—     One of the security men hit him. Walton stiffened and resisted the urgeto reprimand the man. He was only doing his job, after all.     Search him, Walton said.     They gave Prior an efficient going-over. He's clean, Mr. Walton.Should we take him to security, or downstairs to health?     Neither. Leave him here with me.     Are you sure you—     Get out of here, Walton snapped. As the three security men slinkedaway, he added, And figure out some more efficient system forprotecting me. Some day an assassin is going to sneak through hereand get me. Not that I give a damn about myself, you understand; it'ssimply that I'm indispensable. There isn't another lunatic in the worldwho'd take this job. Now      get out     !     They wasted no time in leaving. Walton waited until the door closedand jammed down hard on the lockstud. His tirade, he knew, was whollyunjustified; if he had remembered to lock his door as regulationsprescribed, Prior would never have broken in. But he couldn't admitthat to the guards.     Take a seat, Mr. Prior.     I have to thank you for granting me this audience, Prior said,without a hint of sarcasm in his booming voice. I realize you're aterribly busy man.     I am. Another three inches of paper had deposited itself on Walton'sdesk since Prior had entered. You're very lucky to have hit thepsychological moment for your entrance. At any other time I'd havehad you brigged for a month, but just now I'm in need of a littlediversion. Besides, I very much admire your work, Mr. Prior.     Thank you. Again that humility, startling in so big and commanding aman. I hadn't expected to find—I mean that you—     That a bureaucrat should admire poetry? Is that what you're gropingfor?     Prior reddened. Yes, he admitted.     Grinning, Walton said, I have to do      something     when I go home atnight. I don't really read Popeek reports twenty-four hours a day. Nomore than twenty; that's my rule. I thought your last book was quiteremarkable.     The critics didn't, Prior said diffidently.     Critics! What do they know? Walton demanded. They swing in cycles.Ten years ago it was form and technique, and you got the Melling Prize.Now it's message, political content that counts. That's not poetry, Mr.Prior—and there are still a few of us who recognize what poetry is.Take Yeats, for instance—     Walton was ready to launch into a discussion of every poet from Priorback to Surrey and Wyatt; anything to keep from the job at hand,anything to keep his mind from Popeek. But Prior interrupted him.     Mr. Walton....     Yes?     My son Philip ... he's two weeks old now....     Walton understood. No, Prior. Please don't ask. Walton's skin feltcold; his hands, tightly clenched, were clammy.     He was committed to Happysleep this morning—potentially tubercular.The boy's perfectly sound, Mr. Walton. Couldn't you—     Walton rose.       No     , he said, half-commanding, half-pleading. Don'task me to do it. I can't make any exceptions, not even for you. You'rean intelligent man; you understand our program.     I voted for Popeek. I know all about Weeding the Garden and theEuthanasia Plan. But I hadn't expected—     You thought euthanasia was a fine thing for      other     people. So dideveryone else, Walton said. That's how the act was passed. Tenderlyhe said, I can't do it. I can't spare your son. Our doctors give ababy every chance to live.           I     was tubercular. They cured me. What if they had practicedeuthanasia a generation ago? Where would my poems be now?     It was an unanswerable question; Walton tried to ignore it.Tuberculosis is an extremely rare disease, Mr. Prior. We can wipeit out completely if we strike at those with TB-susceptible genetictraits.     Meaning you'll kill any children I have? Prior asked.     Those who inherit your condition, Walton said gently. Go home, Mr.Prior. Burn me in effigy. Write a poem about me. But don't ask me to dothe impossible. I can't catch any falling stars for you.     Prior rose. He was immense, a hulking tragic figure staring broodinglyat Walton. For the first time since the poet's abrupt entry, Waltonfeared violence. His fingers groped for the needle gun he kept in hisupper left desk drawer.     But Prior had no violence in him. I'll leave you, he said somberly.I'm sorry, sir. Deeply sorry. For both of us.     Walton pressed the doorlock to let him out, then locked it again andslipped heavily into his chair. Three more reports slid out of thechute and landed on his desk. He stared at them as if they were threebasilisks.     In the six weeks of Popeek's existence, three thousand babies had beenticketed for Happysleep, and three thousand sets of degenerate geneshad been wiped from the race. Ten thousand subnormal males had beensterilized. Eight thousand dying oldsters had reached their gravesahead of time.     It was a tough-minded program. But why transmit palsy to unborngenerations? Why let an adult idiot litter the world with subnormalprogeny? Why force a man hopelessly cancerous to linger on in pain,consuming precious food?     Unpleasant? Sure. But the world had voted for it. Until Lang and histeam succeeded in terraforming Venus, or until the faster-than-lightoutfit opened the stars to mankind, something had to be done aboutEarth's overpopulation. There were seven billion now and the figure wasstill growing.     Prior's words haunted him.      I was tubercular ... where would my poemsbe now?       The big humble man was one of the great poets. Keats had beentubercular too.       What good are poets?     he asked himself savagely.     The reply came swiftly:      What good is anything, then?     Keats,Shakespeare, Eliot, Yeats, Donne, Pound, Matthews ... and Prior. Howmuch duller life would be without them, Walton thought, picturinghis bookshelf—his one bookshelf, in his crowded little cubicle of aone-room home.     Sweat poured down his back as he groped toward his decision.     The step he was considering would disqualify him from his job if headmitted it, though he wouldn't do that. Under the Equalization Law, itwould be a criminal act.     But just one baby wouldn't matter. Just one.     Prior's baby.     With nervous fingers he switched on the annunciator and said, If thereare any calls for me, take the message. I'll be out of my office forthe next half-hour.      II     He stepped out of the office, glancing around furtively. The outeroffice was busy: half a dozen girls were answering calls, openingletters, coordinating activities. Walton slipped quickly past them intothe hallway.     There was a knot of fear in his stomach as he turned toward thelift tube. Six weeks of pressure, six weeks of tension since Popeekwas organized and old man FitzMaugham had tapped him for thesecond-in-command post ... and now, a rebellion. The sparing of asingle child was a small rebellion, true, but he knew he was strikingas effectively at the base of Popeek this way as if he had broughtabout repeal of the entire Equalization Law.     Well, just one lapse, he promised himself. I'll spare Prior's child,and after that I'll keep within the law.     He jabbed the lift tube indicator and the tube rose in its shaft. Theclinic was on the twentieth floor.     Roy.     At the sound of the quiet voice behind him, Walton jumped in surprise.He steadied himself, forcing himself to turn slowly. The director stoodthere.     Good morning, Mr. FitzMaugham.     The old man was smiling serenely, his unlined face warm and friendly,his mop of white hair bright and full. You look preoccupied, boy.Something the matter?     Walton shook his head quickly. Just a little tired, sir. There's beena lot of work lately.     As he said it, he knew how foolish it sounded. If anyone in Popeekworked harder than he did, it was the elderly director. FitzMaughamhad striven for equalization legislature for fifty years, and now, atthe age of eighty, he put in a sixteen-hour day at the task of savingmankind from itself.     The director smiled. You never did learn how to budget your strength,Roy. You'll be a worn-out wreck before you're half my age. I'm gladyou're adopting my habit of taking a coffee break in the morning,though. Mind if I join you?     I'm—not taking a break, sir. I have some work to do downstairs.     Oh? Can't you take care of it by phone?     No, Mr. FitzMaugham. Walton felt as though he'd already been tried,drawn, and quartered. It requires personal attention.     I see. The deep, warm eyes bored into his. You ought to slow down alittle, I think.     Yes, sir. As soon as the work eases up a little.     FitzMaugham chuckled. In another century or two, you mean. I'm afraidyou'll never learn how to relax, my boy.     The lift tube arrived. Walton stepped to one side, allowed the Directorto enter, and got in himself. FitzMaugham pushed      Fourteen     ; there wasa coffee shop down there. Hesitantly, Walton pushed      twenty     , coveringthe panel with his arm so the old man would be unable to see hisdestination.     As the tube began to descend, FitzMaugham said, Did Mr. Prior come tosee you this morning?     Yes, Walton said.     He's the poet, isn't he? The one you say is so good?     That's right, sir, Walton said tightly.     He came to see me first, but I had him referred down to you. What wason his mind?     Walton hesitated. He—he wanted his son spared from Happysleep.Naturally, I had to turn him down.     Naturally, FitzMaugham agreed solemnly. Once we make even oneexception, the whole framework crumbles.     Of course, sir.     The lift tube halted and rocked on its suspension. The door slid back,revealing a neat, gleaming sign:       FLOOR 20        Euthanasia Clinic and Files       Walton had forgotten the accursed sign. He began to wish he had avoidedtraveling down with the director. He felt that his purpose must seemnakedly obvious now.     The old man's eyes were twinkling amusedly. I guess you get off here,he said. I hope you catch up with your work soon, Roy. You reallyshould take some time off for relaxation each day.     I'll try, sir.     Walton stepped out of the tube and returned FitzMaugham's smile as thedoor closed again. Bitter thoughts assailed him as soon as he was alone.       Some fine criminal you are. You've given the show away already! Anddamn that smooth paternal smile. FitzMaugham knows! He must know!       Walton wavered, then abruptly made his decision. He sucked in a deepbreath and walked briskly toward the big room where the euthanasiafiles were kept.  <doc-sep>Most of the cousins gasped as the truth began to percolate through.     I knew from the very beginning, Conrad finished, that I didn'thave to do anything at all. I just had to wait and you would destroyyourselves.     I don't understand, Bartholomew protested, searching the faces of thecousins closest to him. What does he mean, we have never existed?We're here, aren't we? What—     Shut up! Raymond snapped. He turned on Martin. You don't seemsurprised.     The old man grinned. I'm not. I figured it all out years ago.     At first, he had wondered what he should do. Would it be better tothrow them into a futile panic by telling them or to do nothing? Hehad decided on the latter; that was the role they had assigned him—towatch and wait and keep out of things—and that was the role he wouldplay.     You knew all the time and you didn't tell us! Raymond spluttered.After we'd been so good to you, making a gentleman out of you insteadof a criminal.... That's right, he snarled, a criminal! An alcoholic,a thief, a derelict! How do you like that?     Sounds like a rich, full life, Martin said wistfully.     What an exciting existence they must have done him out of! But then, hecouldn't help thinking, he—he and Conrad together, of course—had donethem out of      any     kind of existence. It wasn't his responsibility,though; he had done nothing but let matters take whatever course wasdestined for them. If only he could be sure that it was the bettercourse, perhaps he wouldn't feel that nagging sense of guilt insidehim. Strange—where, in his hermetic life, could he possibly havedeveloped such a queer thing as a conscience?     Then we've wasted all this time, Ninian sobbed, all this energy, allthis money, for nothing!     But you were nothing to begin with, Martin told them. And then,after a pause, he added, I only wish I could be sure there had beensome purpose to this.     He didn't know whether it was approaching death that dimmed his sight,or whether the frightened crowd that pressed around him was growingshadowy.     I wish I could feel that some good had been done in letting you bewiped out of existence, he went on voicing his thoughts. But I knowthat the same thing that happened to your worlds and my world willhappen all over again. To other people, in other times, but again. It'sbound to happen. There isn't any hope for humanity.     One man couldn't really change the course of human history, he toldhimself. Two men, that was—one real, one a shadow.     Conrad came close to the old man's bed. He was almost transparent.     No, he said, there is hope. They didn't know the time transmitterworks two ways. I used it for going into the past only once—just thisonce. But I've gone into the future with it many times. And— hepressed Martin's hand—believe me, what I did—what      we     did, you andI—serves a purpose. It will change things for the better. Everythingis going to be all right.  <doc-sep>The room was large, as rooms went nowadays—thirty by twenty, with deckupon deck of Donnerson micro-memory-tubes racked along one wall and abank of microfilm records along the other. In six weeks of life Popeekhad piled up an impressive collection of data.     While he stood there, the computer chattered, lights flashed. New factspoured into the memory banks. It probably went on day and night.     Can I help—oh, it's you, Mr. Walton, a white-smocked techniciansaid. Popeek employed a small army of technicians, each one facelessand without personality, but always ready to serve. Is there anythingI can do?     I'm simply running a routine checkup. Mind if I use the machine?     Not at all, sir. Go right ahead.     Walton grinned lightly and stepped forward. The technician practicallybacked out of his presence.       No doubt I must radiate charisma     , he thought. Within the building hewore a sort of luminous halo, by virtue of being Director FitzMaugham'sprotégé and second-in-command. Outside, in the colder reality of thecrowded metropolis, he kept his identity and Popeek rank quietly tohimself.     Frowning, he tried to remember the Prior boy's name. Ah ... Philip,wasn't it? He punched out a request for the card on Philip Prior.     A moment's pause followed, while the millions of tiny cryotroniccircuits raced with information pulses, searching the Donnersontubes for Philip Prior's record. Then, a brief squeaking sound and ayellow-brown card dropped out of the slot:       3216847AB1         PRIOR, Philip Hugh. Born 31 May 2232, New York General Hospital, NewYork. First son of Prior, Lyle Martin and Prior, Ava Leonard. Wgt. atbirth 5lb. 3oz.       An elaborate description of the boy in great detail followed, endingwith blood type, agglutinating characteristic, and gene-pattern,codified. Walton skipped impatiently through that and came to thenotification typed in curt, impersonal green capital letters at thebottom of the card:       EXAMINED AT N Y EUTH CLINIC 10 JUNE 2332        EUTHANASIA RECOMMENDED       He glanced at his watch: the time was 1026. The boy was probably stillsomewhere in the clinic lab, waiting for the figurative axe to descend.     Walton had set up the schedule himself: the gas chamber deliveredHappysleep each day at 1100 and 1500. He had about half an hour to savePhilip Prior.     He peered covertly over his shoulder; no one was in sight. He slippedthe baby's card into his breast pocket.     That done, he typed out a requisition for explanation of thegene-sorting code the clinic used. Symbols began pouring forth,and Walton puzzledly correlated them with the line of gibberish onPhillip Prior's record card. Finally he found the one he wanted:      3f2,tubercular-prone     .     He scrapped the guide sheet he had and typed out a message to themachine.      Revision of card number 3216847AB1 follows. Please alter inall circuits.       He proceeded to retype the child's card, omitting both the fatal symbol      3f2     and the notation recommending euthanasia from the new version.The machine beeped an acknowledgement. Walton smiled. So far, so good.     Then, he requested the boy's file all over again. After the customarypause, a card numbered 3216847AB1 dropped out of the slot. He read it.     The deletions had been made. As far as the machine was concerned,Philip Prior was a normal, healthy baby.     He glanced at his watch. 1037. Still twenty-three minutes before thismorning's haul of unfortunates was put away.     Now came the real test: could he pry the baby away from the doctorswithout attracting too much attention to himself in the process?  <doc-sep>As if in response, the flivver vibrated. Grampa looked querulouslytoward the airlock. Flivver shouldn't shake like that. Not with thepolarizer turned on.     The airlock door swung inward. Through the oval doorway walked Fred,followed closely by Junior. They were sweat-stained and weary,scintillation counters dangling heavily from their belts.     Any luck? Reba asked brightly.     Do we look it? Junior grumbled.     Where's Joyce? asked Fred. Might as well get everybody in on this atonce. Joyce!     The door to his wife's room opened instantly. Behind it, Joyce wasregal and slim. The pose was spoiled immediately by her avid question:Any uranium? Radium? Thorium?     No, Fred said slowly, and no other heavy metals, either. There's afew low-grade iron deposits and that's it.     Then what makes this planet so heavy? Reba asked.     Junior shrugged helplessly and collapsed into a chair. Your guess isas good as anybody's.     Then we've wasted another week on a worthless rock, Joyce complained.She turned savagely on Fred. This was going to make us all filthyrich. We were going to find radioactives and retire to Earth likebillionaires. And all we've done is spent a year of our lives in thiscramped old flivver—and we don't have many of them to spare! Sheglared venomously at Grampa.     We've still got Fweepland, Four said solemnly.     Fweepland? Reba repeated.     This planet. It's not big, but it's fertile and it's harmless. Asreal estate, it's worth almost as much as if it were solid uranium.     A good thing, too, Junior said glumly, because this looks like theend of our search. Short of a miracle, we'll spend the rest of ourlives right here—involuntary colonists.     Joyce spun on him. You're joking! she screeched.     I wish I were, Junior said. But the polarizer won't work. Eitherit's broken or there's something about the gravity around here thatjust won't polarize.     It's these '23 models, Grampa put in disgustedly. They never wereany good.  <doc-sep>Grampa knitted his bushy, white eyebrows and petulantly pushed the lastbutton on his pircuit. The last light went out. You've got work todo, have you? Whose flivver do you think this is, anyhow?     It belongs to all of us, Four said shrilly. You gave us all a sixthshare.     That's right, Four, Grampa muttered, so I did. But whose moneybought it?     You bought it, Grampa, Fred said.     That's right! And who invented the gravity polarizer and the spaceflivver? Eh? Who made possible this gallivanting all over space?     You, Grampa, Fred said.     You bet! And who made one hundred million dollars out of it that therest of you vultures are just hanging around to gobble up when I die?     And who spent it all trying to invent perpetual motion machines andlongevity pills, Joyce said bitterly, and fixed it so we'd have togo searching for uranium and habitable worlds all through this deadlygalaxy? You, Grampa!     Well, now, Grampa protested, I got a little put away yet. You'll besorry when I'm dead and gone.     You're never going to die, Grampa, Joyce said harshly. Justbefore we left, you bought a hundred-year contract with thatLife-Begins-At-Ninety longevity company.     Well, now, said Grampa, blinking, how'd you find out about that?Well, now! In confusion, he turned back to the pircuit and jabbed abutton. Thirteen slim lights sprang on. I'll get you this time!     Four stretched and stood up. He looked curiously into the corner by thecomputer where Grampa's chair stood. You brought that pircuit fromEarth, didn't you? What's the game?     Grampa looked up, obviously relieved to drop his act of intenseconcentration. I'll tell you, boy. You play against the pircuit,taking turns, and you can put out one, two or three lights. The playerwho makes the other one turn out the last light is the winner.     That's simple, Four said without hesitation. The winning strategy isto—     Don't be a kibitzer! Grampa snapped. When I need help, I'll askfor it. No dad-blamed machine is gonna outthink Grampa! He snortedindignantly.  <doc-sep>Reba looked at Fweep kindly. We can thank the little fellow for that,anyway.     I thank him for nothing, Joyce snapped. He lured us down here bymaking us think the planet had heavy metals and I want him to let us go      immediately     !     Fred turned impatiently on his wife. Well, try making him understand!And if you can make him understand what you want him to do, try makinghim do it!     Joyce looked at Fred with startled eyes. Fred! she said in a high,shocked voice and turned blindly toward her room.     Grampa lowered his bottle and smacked his lips. Well, boy, he said toFred, I thought you'd never do that. Didn't think you had it in you.     Fred stood up apologetically. I'd better go calm her down, hemuttered, and walked quickly after Joyce.     Give her one for me! Grampa called.     Fred's shoulders twitched as the door closed behind him. From the roomcame the filtered sound of high-pitched voices rising and falling likesome reedy folk music.     Makes you think, doesn't it? Grampa said, looking at Fweep benignly.Maybe the whole theory of gravitation is cockeyed. Maybe there's aFweep for every planet and sun, big and little, polarizing the gravityin circles, and the matter business is not a cause but a result.     What I can't understand, Junior said thoughtfully, is why thepolarizer worked for a little while when we landed—long enough to keepus from being squashed—and then quit.     Fweep didn't recognize it immediately, didn't know what it was orwhere it came from, Four explained. All he knew was he didn't likelinear polarization and he neutralized it as soon as he could. That'swhen we dropped.  <doc-sep>Grampa was a white-haired 90-year-old who could still go a fast roundor two with a man (or woman) half his age, but he had a habit oflapsing into tantrum when he got annoyed.     Now, Grampa, Fred soothed, but his face was concerned. Fred, oncecalled Young Fred, was Grampa's only son. He was sixty and his hair hadbegun to gray at the temples. That landing was pretty rough, Junior.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What role does Fred Walton play in the story MASTER of Life and Death?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the story of MASTER of Life and Death and how does it involve Philip Prior? [SEP] <s>The room was large, as rooms went nowadays—thirty by twenty, with deckupon deck of Donnerson micro-memory-tubes racked along one wall and abank of microfilm records along the other. In six weeks of life Popeekhad piled up an impressive collection of data.     While he stood there, the computer chattered, lights flashed. New factspoured into the memory banks. It probably went on day and night.     Can I help—oh, it's you, Mr. Walton, a white-smocked techniciansaid. Popeek employed a small army of technicians, each one facelessand without personality, but always ready to serve. Is there anythingI can do?     I'm simply running a routine checkup. Mind if I use the machine?     Not at all, sir. Go right ahead.     Walton grinned lightly and stepped forward. The technician practicallybacked out of his presence.       No doubt I must radiate charisma     , he thought. Within the building hewore a sort of luminous halo, by virtue of being Director FitzMaugham'sprotégé and second-in-command. Outside, in the colder reality of thecrowded metropolis, he kept his identity and Popeek rank quietly tohimself.     Frowning, he tried to remember the Prior boy's name. Ah ... Philip,wasn't it? He punched out a request for the card on Philip Prior.     A moment's pause followed, while the millions of tiny cryotroniccircuits raced with information pulses, searching the Donnersontubes for Philip Prior's record. Then, a brief squeaking sound and ayellow-brown card dropped out of the slot:       3216847AB1         PRIOR, Philip Hugh. Born 31 May 2232, New York General Hospital, NewYork. First son of Prior, Lyle Martin and Prior, Ava Leonard. Wgt. atbirth 5lb. 3oz.       An elaborate description of the boy in great detail followed, endingwith blood type, agglutinating characteristic, and gene-pattern,codified. Walton skipped impatiently through that and came to thenotification typed in curt, impersonal green capital letters at thebottom of the card:       EXAMINED AT N Y EUTH CLINIC 10 JUNE 2332        EUTHANASIA RECOMMENDED       He glanced at his watch: the time was 1026. The boy was probably stillsomewhere in the clinic lab, waiting for the figurative axe to descend.     Walton had set up the schedule himself: the gas chamber deliveredHappysleep each day at 1100 and 1500. He had about half an hour to savePhilip Prior.     He peered covertly over his shoulder; no one was in sight. He slippedthe baby's card into his breast pocket.     That done, he typed out a requisition for explanation of thegene-sorting code the clinic used. Symbols began pouring forth,and Walton puzzledly correlated them with the line of gibberish onPhillip Prior's record card. Finally he found the one he wanted:      3f2,tubercular-prone     .     He scrapped the guide sheet he had and typed out a message to themachine.      Revision of card number 3216847AB1 follows. Please alter inall circuits.       He proceeded to retype the child's card, omitting both the fatal symbol      3f2     and the notation recommending euthanasia from the new version.The machine beeped an acknowledgement. Walton smiled. So far, so good.     Then, he requested the boy's file all over again. After the customarypause, a card numbered 3216847AB1 dropped out of the slot. He read it.     The deletions had been made. As far as the machine was concerned,Philip Prior was a normal, healthy baby.     He glanced at his watch. 1037. Still twenty-three minutes before thismorning's haul of unfortunates was put away.     Now came the real test: could he pry the baby away from the doctorswithout attracting too much attention to himself in the process?  <doc-sep>     MASTER       of Life and Death       by     ROBERT SILVERBERG     ACE BOOKS     A Division of A. A. Wyn, Inc.     23 West 47th Street, New York 36, N. Y.     MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH     Copyright 1957, by A. A. Wyn, Inc.     All Rights Reserved     For Antigone—     Who Thinks We're Property     Printed in U.S.A.     [Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any     evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      THE MAN WHO RATIONED BABIES     By the 23rd century Earth's population had reached seven billion.Mankind was in danger of perishing for lack of elbow room—unlessprompt measures were taken. Roy Walton had the power to enforce thosemeasures. But though his job was in the service of humanity, he soonfound himself the most hated man in the world.     For it was      his     job to tell parents their children were unfit to live;      he     had to uproot people from their homes and send them to remoteareas of the world. Now, threatened by mobs of outraged citizens,denounced and blackened by the press, Roy Walton had to make adecision: resign his post, or use his power to destroy his enemies,become a dictator in the hopes of saving humanity from its own folly.In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH?      CAST OF CHARACTERS     ROY WALTON     He had to adopt the motto—      the ends justify the means     .     FITZMAUGHAM     His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet.     FRED WALTON     His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimatedtheir size.     LEE PERCY     His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills.     PRIOR     With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son?     DR. LAMARRE     He died for discovering the secret of immortality.      Contents      I     The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly knownas Popeek, were located on the twentieth through twenty-ninth floorsof the Cullen Building, a hundred-story monstrosity typical oftwenty-second-century neo-Victorian at its overdecorated worst. RoyWalton, Popeek's assistant administrator, had to apologize to himselfeach morning as he entered the hideous place.     Since taking the job, he had managed to redecorate his own office—onthe twenty-eighth floor, immediately below Director FitzMaugham's—butthat had created only one minor oasis in the esthetically repugnantbuilding. It couldn't be helped, though; Popeek was unpopular, thoughnecessary; and, like the public hangman of some centuries earlier, theBureau did not rate attractive quarters.     So Walton had removed some of the iridescent chrome scalloping thattrimmed the walls, replaced the sash windows with opaquers, and changedthe massive ceiling fixture to more subtle electroluminescents. But themark of the last century was stamped irrevocably on both building andoffice.     Which was as it should be, Walton had finally realized. It was the lastcentury's foolishness that had made Popeek necessary, after all.     His desk was piled high with reports, and more kept arriving viapneumochute every minute. The job of assistant administrator wasa thankless one, he thought; as much responsibility as DirectorFitzMaugham, and half the pay.     He lifted a report from one eyebrow-high stack, smoothed the crinklypaper carefully, and read it.     It was a despatch from Horrocks, the Popeek agent currently on duty inPatagonia. It was dated      4 June 2232     , six days before, and after along and rambling prologue in the usual Horrocks manner it went on tosay,      Population density remains low here: 17.3 per square mile, farbelow optimum. Looks like a prime candidate for equalization.       Walton agreed. He reached for his voicewrite and said sharply, Memofrom Assistant Administrator Walton, re equalization of ... He paused,picking a trouble-spot at random, ... central Belgium. Will thesection chief in charge of this area please consider the advisabilityof transferring population excess to fertile areas in Patagonia?Recommendation: establishment of industries in latter region, to easetransition.     He shut his eyes, dug his thumbs into them until bright flares of lightshot across his eyeballs, and refused to let himself be bothered bythe multiple problems involved in dumping several hundred thousandBelgians into Patagonia. He forced himself to cling to one of DirectorFitzMaugham's oft-repeated maxims,      If you want to stay sane, think ofthese people as pawns in a chess game—not as human beings.       Walton sighed. This was the biggest chess problem in the history ofhumanity, and the way it looked now, all the solutions led to checkmatein a century or less. They could keep equalizing population only solong, shifting like loggers riding logs in a rushing river, beforetrouble came.     There was another matter to be attended to now. He picked up thevoicewrite again. Memo from the assistant administrator, reestablishment of new policy on reports from local agents: hire a staffof three clever girls to make a précis of each report, eliminatingirrelevant data.     It was a basic step, one that should have been taken long ago. Now,with three feet of reports stacked on his desk, it was mandatory. Oneof the troubles with Popeek was its newness; it had been established sosuddenly that most of its procedures were still in the formative stage.     He took another report from the heap. This one was the data sheet ofthe Zurich Euthanasia Center, and he gave it a cursory scanning. Duringthe past week, eleven substandard children and twenty-three substandardadults had been sent on to Happysleep.     That was the grimmest form of population equalization. Walton initialedthe report, earmarked it for files, and dumped it in the pneumochute.     The annunciator chimed.     I'm busy, Walton said immediately.     There's a Mr. Prior to see you, the annunciator's calm voice said.He insists it's an emergency.     Tell Mr. Prior I can't see anyone for at least three hours. Waltonstared gloomily at the growing pile of paper on his desk. Tell him hecan have ten minutes with me at—oh, say, 1300.     Walton heard an angry male voice muttering something in the outeroffice, and then the annunciator said, He insists he must see youimmediately in reference to a Happysleep commitment.     Commitments are irrevocable, Walton said heavily. The last thing inthe world he wanted was to see a man whose child or parent had justbeen committed. Tell Mr. Prior I can't see him at all.     Walton found his fingers trembling; he clamped them tight to the edgeof his desk to steady himself. It was all right sitting up here in thisugly building and initialing commitment papers, but actually to      see     one of those people and try to convince him of the need—     The door burst open.     A tall, dark-haired man in an open jacket came rushing through andpaused dramatically just over the threshold. Immediately behind himcame three unsmiling men in the gray silk-sheen uniforms of security.They carried drawn needlers.     Are you Administrator Walton? the big man asked, in an astonishinglydeep, rich voice. I have to see you. I'm Lyle Prior.     The three security men caught up and swarmed all over Prior. One ofthem turned apologetically to Walton. We're terribly sorry about this,sir. He just broke away and ran. We can't understand how he got inhere, but he did.     Ah—yes. So I noticed, Walton remarked drily. See if he's planningto assassinate anybody, will you?     Administrator Walton! Prior protested. I'm a man of peace! How canyou accuse me of—     One of the security men hit him. Walton stiffened and resisted the urgeto reprimand the man. He was only doing his job, after all.     Search him, Walton said.     They gave Prior an efficient going-over. He's clean, Mr. Walton.Should we take him to security, or downstairs to health?     Neither. Leave him here with me.     Are you sure you—     Get out of here, Walton snapped. As the three security men slinkedaway, he added, And figure out some more efficient system forprotecting me. Some day an assassin is going to sneak through hereand get me. Not that I give a damn about myself, you understand; it'ssimply that I'm indispensable. There isn't another lunatic in the worldwho'd take this job. Now      get out     !     They wasted no time in leaving. Walton waited until the door closedand jammed down hard on the lockstud. His tirade, he knew, was whollyunjustified; if he had remembered to lock his door as regulationsprescribed, Prior would never have broken in. But he couldn't admitthat to the guards.     Take a seat, Mr. Prior.     I have to thank you for granting me this audience, Prior said,without a hint of sarcasm in his booming voice. I realize you're aterribly busy man.     I am. Another three inches of paper had deposited itself on Walton'sdesk since Prior had entered. You're very lucky to have hit thepsychological moment for your entrance. At any other time I'd havehad you brigged for a month, but just now I'm in need of a littlediversion. Besides, I very much admire your work, Mr. Prior.     Thank you. Again that humility, startling in so big and commanding aman. I hadn't expected to find—I mean that you—     That a bureaucrat should admire poetry? Is that what you're gropingfor?     Prior reddened. Yes, he admitted.     Grinning, Walton said, I have to do      something     when I go home atnight. I don't really read Popeek reports twenty-four hours a day. Nomore than twenty; that's my rule. I thought your last book was quiteremarkable.     The critics didn't, Prior said diffidently.     Critics! What do they know? Walton demanded. They swing in cycles.Ten years ago it was form and technique, and you got the Melling Prize.Now it's message, political content that counts. That's not poetry, Mr.Prior—and there are still a few of us who recognize what poetry is.Take Yeats, for instance—     Walton was ready to launch into a discussion of every poet from Priorback to Surrey and Wyatt; anything to keep from the job at hand,anything to keep his mind from Popeek. But Prior interrupted him.     Mr. Walton....     Yes?     My son Philip ... he's two weeks old now....     Walton understood. No, Prior. Please don't ask. Walton's skin feltcold; his hands, tightly clenched, were clammy.     He was committed to Happysleep this morning—potentially tubercular.The boy's perfectly sound, Mr. Walton. Couldn't you—     Walton rose.       No     , he said, half-commanding, half-pleading. Don'task me to do it. I can't make any exceptions, not even for you. You'rean intelligent man; you understand our program.     I voted for Popeek. I know all about Weeding the Garden and theEuthanasia Plan. But I hadn't expected—     You thought euthanasia was a fine thing for      other     people. So dideveryone else, Walton said. That's how the act was passed. Tenderlyhe said, I can't do it. I can't spare your son. Our doctors give ababy every chance to live.           I     was tubercular. They cured me. What if they had practicedeuthanasia a generation ago? Where would my poems be now?     It was an unanswerable question; Walton tried to ignore it.Tuberculosis is an extremely rare disease, Mr. Prior. We can wipeit out completely if we strike at those with TB-susceptible genetictraits.     Meaning you'll kill any children I have? Prior asked.     Those who inherit your condition, Walton said gently. Go home, Mr.Prior. Burn me in effigy. Write a poem about me. But don't ask me to dothe impossible. I can't catch any falling stars for you.     Prior rose. He was immense, a hulking tragic figure staring broodinglyat Walton. For the first time since the poet's abrupt entry, Waltonfeared violence. His fingers groped for the needle gun he kept in hisupper left desk drawer.     But Prior had no violence in him. I'll leave you, he said somberly.I'm sorry, sir. Deeply sorry. For both of us.     Walton pressed the doorlock to let him out, then locked it again andslipped heavily into his chair. Three more reports slid out of thechute and landed on his desk. He stared at them as if they were threebasilisks.     In the six weeks of Popeek's existence, three thousand babies had beenticketed for Happysleep, and three thousand sets of degenerate geneshad been wiped from the race. Ten thousand subnormal males had beensterilized. Eight thousand dying oldsters had reached their gravesahead of time.     It was a tough-minded program. But why transmit palsy to unborngenerations? Why let an adult idiot litter the world with subnormalprogeny? Why force a man hopelessly cancerous to linger on in pain,consuming precious food?     Unpleasant? Sure. But the world had voted for it. Until Lang and histeam succeeded in terraforming Venus, or until the faster-than-lightoutfit opened the stars to mankind, something had to be done aboutEarth's overpopulation. There were seven billion now and the figure wasstill growing.     Prior's words haunted him.      I was tubercular ... where would my poemsbe now?       The big humble man was one of the great poets. Keats had beentubercular too.       What good are poets?     he asked himself savagely.     The reply came swiftly:      What good is anything, then?     Keats,Shakespeare, Eliot, Yeats, Donne, Pound, Matthews ... and Prior. Howmuch duller life would be without them, Walton thought, picturinghis bookshelf—his one bookshelf, in his crowded little cubicle of aone-room home.     Sweat poured down his back as he groped toward his decision.     The step he was considering would disqualify him from his job if headmitted it, though he wouldn't do that. Under the Equalization Law, itwould be a criminal act.     But just one baby wouldn't matter. Just one.     Prior's baby.     With nervous fingers he switched on the annunciator and said, If thereare any calls for me, take the message. I'll be out of my office forthe next half-hour.      II     He stepped out of the office, glancing around furtively. The outeroffice was busy: half a dozen girls were answering calls, openingletters, coordinating activities. Walton slipped quickly past them intothe hallway.     There was a knot of fear in his stomach as he turned toward thelift tube. Six weeks of pressure, six weeks of tension since Popeekwas organized and old man FitzMaugham had tapped him for thesecond-in-command post ... and now, a rebellion. The sparing of asingle child was a small rebellion, true, but he knew he was strikingas effectively at the base of Popeek this way as if he had broughtabout repeal of the entire Equalization Law.     Well, just one lapse, he promised himself. I'll spare Prior's child,and after that I'll keep within the law.     He jabbed the lift tube indicator and the tube rose in its shaft. Theclinic was on the twentieth floor.     Roy.     At the sound of the quiet voice behind him, Walton jumped in surprise.He steadied himself, forcing himself to turn slowly. The director stoodthere.     Good morning, Mr. FitzMaugham.     The old man was smiling serenely, his unlined face warm and friendly,his mop of white hair bright and full. You look preoccupied, boy.Something the matter?     Walton shook his head quickly. Just a little tired, sir. There's beena lot of work lately.     As he said it, he knew how foolish it sounded. If anyone in Popeekworked harder than he did, it was the elderly director. FitzMaughamhad striven for equalization legislature for fifty years, and now, atthe age of eighty, he put in a sixteen-hour day at the task of savingmankind from itself.     The director smiled. You never did learn how to budget your strength,Roy. You'll be a worn-out wreck before you're half my age. I'm gladyou're adopting my habit of taking a coffee break in the morning,though. Mind if I join you?     I'm—not taking a break, sir. I have some work to do downstairs.     Oh? Can't you take care of it by phone?     No, Mr. FitzMaugham. Walton felt as though he'd already been tried,drawn, and quartered. It requires personal attention.     I see. The deep, warm eyes bored into his. You ought to slow down alittle, I think.     Yes, sir. As soon as the work eases up a little.     FitzMaugham chuckled. In another century or two, you mean. I'm afraidyou'll never learn how to relax, my boy.     The lift tube arrived. Walton stepped to one side, allowed the Directorto enter, and got in himself. FitzMaugham pushed      Fourteen     ; there wasa coffee shop down there. Hesitantly, Walton pushed      twenty     , coveringthe panel with his arm so the old man would be unable to see hisdestination.     As the tube began to descend, FitzMaugham said, Did Mr. Prior come tosee you this morning?     Yes, Walton said.     He's the poet, isn't he? The one you say is so good?     That's right, sir, Walton said tightly.     He came to see me first, but I had him referred down to you. What wason his mind?     Walton hesitated. He—he wanted his son spared from Happysleep.Naturally, I had to turn him down.     Naturally, FitzMaugham agreed solemnly. Once we make even oneexception, the whole framework crumbles.     Of course, sir.     The lift tube halted and rocked on its suspension. The door slid back,revealing a neat, gleaming sign:       FLOOR 20        Euthanasia Clinic and Files       Walton had forgotten the accursed sign. He began to wish he had avoidedtraveling down with the director. He felt that his purpose must seemnakedly obvious now.     The old man's eyes were twinkling amusedly. I guess you get off here,he said. I hope you catch up with your work soon, Roy. You reallyshould take some time off for relaxation each day.     I'll try, sir.     Walton stepped out of the tube and returned FitzMaugham's smile as thedoor closed again. Bitter thoughts assailed him as soon as he was alone.       Some fine criminal you are. You've given the show away already! Anddamn that smooth paternal smile. FitzMaugham knows! He must know!       Walton wavered, then abruptly made his decision. He sucked in a deepbreath and walked briskly toward the big room where the euthanasiafiles were kept.  <doc-sep>Taphetta rustled his speech ribbons quizzically. But I thought it wasproved that some humans did originate on one planet, that there was anunbroken line of evolution that could be traced back a billion years.     You're thinking of Earth, said Halden. Humans require a certain kindof planet. It's reasonable to assume that, if men were set down on ahundred such worlds, they'd seem to fit in with native life-forms on afew of them. That's what happened on Earth; when Man arrived, there wasactually a manlike creature there. Naturally our early evolutionistsstretched their theories to cover the facts they had.     But there are other worlds in which humans who were there before theStone Age aren't related to anything else there. We have to concludethat Man didn't originate on any of the planets on which he is nowfound. Instead, he evolved elsewhere and later was scattered throughoutthis section of the Milky Way.     And so, to account for the unique race that can interbreed acrossthousands of light-years, you've brought in the big ancestor,commented Taphetta dryly. It seems an unnecessary simplification.     Can you think of a better explanation? asked Kelburn.     Something had to distribute one species so widely and it's not theresult of parallel evolution—not when a hundred human races areinvolved, and      only     the human race.     I can't think of a better explanation. Taphetta rearranged hisribbons. Frankly, no one else is much interested in Man's theoriesabout himself.     It was easy to understand the attitude. Man was the most numerousthough not always the most advanced—Ribboneers had a civilization ashigh as anything in the known section of the Milky Way, and there wereothers—and humans were more than a little feared. If they ever gottogether—but they hadn't except in agreement as to their common origin.     Still, Taphetta the Ribboneer was an experienced pilot and could bevery useful. A clear statement of their position was essential inhelping him make up his mind. You've heard of the adjacency matingprinciple? asked Sam Halden.     Vaguely. Most people have if they've been around men.     We've got new data and are able to interpret it better. The theory isthat humans who can mate with each other were once physically close.We've got a list of all our races arranged in sequence. If planetaryrace F can mate with race E back to A and forward to M, and race G isfertile only back to B, but forward to O, then we assume that whatevertheir positions are now, at once time G was actually adjacent to F, butwas a little further along. When we project back into time those starsystems on which humans existed prior to space travel, we get a certainpattern. Kelburn can explain it to you.     The normally pink body of the Ribboneer flushed slightly. The colorchange was almost imperceptible, but it was enough to indicate that hewas interested.  <doc-sep>Five doctors were bustling back and forth as Walton entered the mainsection of the clinic. There must have been a hundred babies there,each in a little pen of its own, and the doctors were humming from oneto the next, while anxious parents watched from screens above.     The Equalization Law provided that every child be presented at itslocal clinic within two weeks of birth, for an examination and acertificate. Perhaps one in ten thousand would be denied acertificate ... and life.     Hello, Mr. Walton. What brings you down here?     Walton smiled affably. Just a routine investigation, Doctor. I try tokeep in touch with every department we have, you know.     Mr. FitzMaugham was down here to look around a little while ago. We'rereally getting a going-over today, Mr. Walton!     Umm. Yes. Walton didn't like that, but there was nothing he coulddo about it. He'd have to rely on the old man's abiding faith in hisprotégé to pull him out of any possible stickiness that arose.     Seen my brother around? he asked.     Fred? He's working in room seven, running analyses. Want me to get himfor you, Mr. Walton?     No—no, don't bother him, thanks. I'll find him later. Inwardly,Walton felt relieved. Fred Walton, his younger brother, was a doctor inthe employ of Popeek. Little love was lost between the brothers, andRoy did not care to have Fred know he was down there.     Strolling casually through the clinic, he peered at a few plump,squalling babies, and said, Find many sour ones today?     Seven so far. They're scheduled for the 1100 chamber. Three tuberc,two blind, one congenital syph.     That only makes six, Walton said.     Oh, and a spastic, the doctor said. Biggest haul we've had yet.Seven in one morning.     Have any trouble with the parents?     What do you think? the doctor asked. But some of them seemed tounderstand. One of the tuberculars nearly raised the roof, though.     Walton shuddered. You remember his name? he asked, with feigned calm.     Silence for a moment. No. Darned if I can think of it. I can look itup for you if you like.     Don't bother, Walton said hurriedly.     He moved on, down the winding corridor that led to the executionchamber. Falbrough, the executioner, was studying a list of names athis desk when Walton appeared.     Falbrough didn't look like the sort of man who would enjoy his work. Hewas short and plump, with a high-domed bald head and glittering contactlenses in his weak blue eyes. Morning, Mr. Walton.     Good morning, Doctor Falbrough. You'll be operating soon, won't you?     Eleven hundred, as usual.     Good. There's a new regulation in effect from now on, Walton said.To keep public opinion on our side.     Sir?     Henceforth, until further notice, you're to check each baby thatcomes to you against the main file, just to make sure there's been nomistake. Got that?           Mistake?     But how—     Never mind that, Falbrough. There was quite a tragic slip-up at oneof the European centers yesterday. We may all hang for it if news getsout.      How glibly I reel this stuff off     , Walton thought in amazement.     Falbrough looked grave. I see, sir. Of course. We'll double-checkeverything from now on.     Good. Begin with the 1100 batch.     Walton couldn't bear to remain down in the clinic any longer. He leftvia a side exit, and signaled for a lift tube.     Minutes later he was back in his office, behind the security of atowering stack of work. His pulse was racing; his throat was dry. Heremembered what FitzMaugham had said:      Once we make even one exception,the whole framework crumbles.       Well, the framework had begun crumbling, then. And there was littledoubt in Walton's mind that FitzMaugham knew or would soon know what hehad done. He would have to cover his traces, somehow.     The annunciator chimed and said, Dr. Falbrough of Happysleep callingyou, sir.     Put him on.     The screen lit and Falbrough's face appeared; its normal blandness hadgiven way to wild-eyed tenseness.     What is it, Doctor?     It's a good thing you issued that order when you did, sir! You'llnever guess what just happened—     No guessing games, Falbrough. Speak up.     I—well, sir, I ran checks on the seven babies they sent me thismorning. And guess—I mean—well, one of them shouldn't have been sentto me!     No!     It's the truth, sir. A cute little baby indeed. I've got his cardright here. The boy's name is Philip Prior, and his gene-pattern isfine.     Any recommendation for euthanasia on the card? Walton asked.     No, sir.     Walton chewed at a ragged cuticle for a moment, counterfeiting greatanxiety. Falbrough, we're going to have to keep this very quiet.Someone slipped up in the examining room, and if word gets out thatthere's been as much as one mistake, we'll have a mob swarming over usin half an hour.     Yes, sir. Falbrough looked terribly grave. What should I do, sir?     Don't say a word about this to      anyone     , not even the men in theexamining room. Fill out a certificate for the boy, find his parents,apologize and return him to them. And make sure you keep checking forany future cases of this sort.     Certainly, sir. Is that all?     It is, Walton said crisply, and broke the contact. He took a deepbreath and stared bleakly at the far wall.     The Prior boy was safe. And in the eyes of the law—the EqualizationLaw—Roy Walton was now a criminal. He was every bit as much a criminalas the man who tried to hide his dying father from the investigators,or the anxious parents who attempted to bribe an examining doctor.     He felt curiously dirty. And, now that he had betrayed FitzMaugham andthe Cause, now that it was done, he had little idea why he had doneit, why he had jeopardized the Popeek program, his position—his life,even—for the sake of one potentially tubercular baby.     Well, the thing was done.     No. Not quite. Later, when things had quieted down, he would have tofinish the job by transferring all the men in the clinic to distantplaces and by obliterating the computer's memories of this morning'sactivities.     The annunciator chimed again. Your brother is on the wire, sir.     Walton trembled imperceptibly as he said, Put him on. Somehow, Frednever called unless he could say or do something unpleasant. AndWalton was very much afraid that his brother meant no good by thiscall. No good at all.      III     Roy Walton watched his brother's head and shoulders take form out ofthe swirl of colors on the screen. Fred Walton was more compact, builtcloser to the ground than his rangy brother; he was a squat five-seven,next to Roy's lean six-two. Fred had always threatened to get evenwith his older brother as soon as they were the same size, but toFred's great dismay he had never managed to catch up with Roy in height.     Even on the screen, Fred's neck and shoulders gave an impression oftremendous solidity and force. Walton waited for his brother's image totake shape, and when the time lag was over he said, Well, Fred? Whatgoes?     His brother's eyes flickered sleepily. They tell me you were down herea little while ago, Roy. How come I didn't rate a visit?     I wasn't in your section. It was official business, anyway. I didn'thave time.     Walton fixed his eyes sharply on the caduceus emblem gleaming on Fred'slapel, and refused to look anywhere else.     Fred said slowly, You had time to tinker with our computer, though.     Official business!     Really, Roy? His brother's tone was venomous. I happened tobe using the computer shortly after you this morning. I wascurious—unpardonably so, dear brother. I requested a transcript ofyour conversation with the machine.     Sparks seemed to flow from the screen. Walton sat back, feeling numb.He managed to pull his sagging mouth back into a stiff hard line andsay, That's a criminal offense, Fred. Any use I make of a Popeekcomputer outlet is confidential.     Criminal offence? Maybe so ... but that makes two of us, then. Eh,Roy?     How much do you know?     You wouldn't want me to recite it over a public communications system,would you? Your friend FitzMaugham might be listening to every word ofthis, and I have too much fraternal feeling for that. Ole Doc Waltondoesn't want to get his bigwig big brother in trouble—oh, no!     Thanks for small blessings, Roy said acidly.     You got me this job. You can take it away. Let's call it even for now,shall we?     Anything you like, Walton said. He was drenched in sweat, thoughthe ingenious executive filter in the sending apparatus of the screencloaked that fact and presented him as neat and fresh. I have somework to do now. His voice was barely audible.     I won't keep you any longer, then, Fred said.     The screen went dead.     Walton killed the contact at his end, got up, walked to the window. Henudged the opaquer control and the frosty white haze over the glasscleared away, revealing the fantastic beehive of the city outside.       Idiot!     he thought.      Fool!       He had risked everything to save one baby, one child probably doomedto an early death anyway. And FitzMaugham knew—the old man could seethrough Walton with ease—and Fred knew, too. His brother, and hisfather-substitute.     FitzMaugham might well choose to conceal Roy's defection this time,but would surely place less trust in him in the future. And as forFred....     There was no telling what Fred might do. They had never beenparticularly close as brothers; they had lived with their parents (nowalmost totally forgotten) until Roy was nine and Fred seven. Theirparents had gone down off Maracaibo in a jet crash; Roy and Fred hadbeen sent to the public crèche.     After that it had been separate paths for the brothers. For Roy, aneducation in the law, a short spell as Senator FitzMaugham's privatesecretary, followed last month by his sudden elevation to assistantadministrator of the newly-created Popeek Bureau. For Fred, medicine,unsuccessful private practice, finally a job in the Happysleep sectionof Popeek, thanks to Roy.   <doc-sep>He stood then in the middle of the room, arms akimbo, his head swimmingwith glory—and remembered suddenly that he was hungry. He felt in thecontainer of his helmet, extracted a couple of food tablets, and poppedthem into his mouth.     They would take care of his needs, but they didn't satisfy his hunger.No food tablets for him after this! Steaks, wines, souffles.... Hismouth began to water at the very thought.     And then the robot rolled on soundless wheels into the room. Symewhirled and saw it only when it was almost upon him. The thing wasremarkably lifelike, and for a moment he was startled.     But it was not alive. It was only a Martian feeding-machine, kept inrepair all these millennia by other robots. It was not intelligent,and so it did not know that its masters would never return. It did notknow, either, that Syme was not a Martian, or that he wanted a steak,and not the distilled liquor of the      xopa     fungus, which still grew inthe subterranean gardens of Kal-Jmar. It was capable only of receivingthe mental impulse of hunger, and of responding to that impulse.     And so when Syme saw it and opened his mouth in startlement, therobot acted as it had done with its degenerate, slothful masters. Itsflexible feeding tube darted out and half down the man's gullet beforehe could move to avoid it. And down Syme Rector's throat poured a floodof      xopa     -juice, nectar to Martians, but swift, terrible death to humanbeings....     Outside, the last doorway to Kal-Jmar closed forever, across from thecold body of Tate.   <doc-sep>Michael blushed. He should indeed. For a year prior to his leaving theLodge, he had carefully studied the customs and tabus of the Universeso that he should be able to enter the new life he planned for himself,with confidence and ease. Under the system of universal kinship, allthe customs and all the tabus of all the planets were the law on allthe other planets. For the Wise Ones had decided many years beforethat wars arose from not understanding one's fellows, not sympathizingwith them. If every nation, every planet, every solar system had thesame laws, customs, and habits, they reasoned, there would be nodifferences, and hence no wars.     Future events had proved them to be correct. For five hundred yearsthere had been no war in the United Universe, and there was peace andplenty for all. Only one crime was recognized throughout the solarsystems—injuring a fellow-creature by word or deed (and the telepathsof Aldebaran were still trying to add      thought     to the statute).     Why, then, Michael had questioned the Father Superior, was there anyreason for the Lodge's existence, any reason for a group of humans toretire from the world and live in the simple ways of their primitiveforefathers? When there had been war, injustice, tyranny, there had,perhaps, been an understandable emotional reason for fleeing theworld. But now why refuse to face a desirable reality? Why turn one'sface upon the present and deliberately go back to the life of thepast—the high collars, vests and trousers, the inefficient coalfurnaces, the rude gasoline tractors of medieval days?     The Father Superior had smiled. You are not yet a fully fledgedBrother, Michael. You cannot enter your novitiate until you've achievedyour majority, and you won't be thirty for another five years. Whydon't you spend some time outside and see how you like it?     Michael had agreed, but before leaving he had spent months studyingthe ways of the United Universe. He had skimmed over Earth, becausehe had been so sure he'd know its ways instinctively. Remembering hispreparations, he was astonished by his smug self-confidence.  <doc-sep>Michael and Mary, both staring, saw, along the line of desks, theagonized faces, some staring like white stones, others hidden inclutching fingers, as though they had been confronted by a Medusa.There was the sound of heavy breathing that mixed with the throbbingof the pumps. The President held tightly to the edges of his desk toquiet his trembling.     There—there've been changes, he said, since you've been out inspace. There isn't a person on Earth who's seen a violent death forhundreds of years.     Michael faced him, frowning. I don't follow you.     Dying violently happened so seldom on Earth that, after a long time,the sight of it began to drive some people mad. And then one day a manwas struck by one of the ground cars and      everyone     who saw it wentinsane. Since then we've eliminated accidents, even the idea. Now, noone is aware that death by violence is even a possibility.     I'm sorry, said Michael, we've been so close to violent death forso long.... What you've seen is part of the proof you asked for.     What you showed us was a picture, said the President. If it hadbeen real, we'd all be insane by now. If it were shown to the peoplethere'd be mass hysteria.     But even if we'd found another habitable planet, getting to it wouldinvolve just what we've shown you. Maybe only a tenth of the peoplewho left Earth, or a hundredth, would ever reach a destination out inspace.     We couldn't tolerate such a possibility, said the Presidentgravely. We'd have to find a way around it.     The pumps throbbed like giant hearts all through the stillness in thecouncil chambers. The faces along the line of desks were smoothingout; the terror in them was fading away.     And yet the Earth is almost dead, said Michael quietly, and youcan't bring it back to life.     The sins of our past, Mr. Nelson, said the President. The Atomicwars five thousand years ago. And the greed. It was too late a longtime ago. That, of course, is why the expedition was sent out. And nowyou've come back to us with this terrible news. He looked around,slowly, then back to Michael. Can you give us any hope at all?     None.     Another expedition? To Andromeda perhaps? With you the leader?     Michael shook his head. We're finished with expeditions, Mr.President.     There were mutterings in the council, and hastily whisperedconsultations. Now they were watching the man and woman again.     We feel, said the President, it would be dangerous to allow you togo out among the people. They've been informed that your statementwasn't entirely true. This was necessary, to avoid a panic. The peoplesimply must not know the whole truth. He paused. Now we ask you tokeep in mind that whatever we decide about the two of you will be forthe good of the people.     Michael and Mary were silent.     You'll wait outside the council chambers, the President went on,until we have reached our decision.     As the man and woman were led away, the pumps beat in the stillness,and at the edge of the shrinking seas the salt thick waters were beingpulled into the distilleries, and from them into the tier upon tier ofartificial gardens that sat like giant bee hives all around theshoreline; and the mounds of salt glistening in the sunlight behindthe gardens were growing into mountains.  <doc-sep>Molly looked at me with a curious expression for a moment. Do you      feel     all right, darling? she asked me. I nodded brightly. You'llthink this silly of me, she went on to McGill, but why isn't itsomething like an overactive poltergeist?     Pure concept, he said. No genuine evidence.     Magnetism?     Absolutely not. For one thing, most of the objects affected weren'tmagnetic—and don't forget magnetism is a force, not a form of energy,and a great deal of energy has been involved. I admit the energy hasmainly been supplied by the things themselves, but in a magnetic field,all you'd get would be stored kinetic energy, such as when a piece ofiron moves to a magnet or a line of force. Then it would just staythere, like a rundown clock weight. These things do a lot more thanthat—they go on moving.     Why did you mention a crystal before? Why not a life-form?     Only an analogy, said McGill. A crystal resembles life in that ithas a definite shape and exhibits growth, but that's all. I'll agreethis—thing—has no discernible shape and motion      is     involved, butplants don't move and amebas have no shape. Then a crystal feeds, butit does not convert what it feeds on; it merely rearranges it into anon-random pattern. In this case, it's rearranging random motions andit has a nucleus and it seems to be growing—at least in what you mightcall improbability.     Molly frowned. Then what      is     it? What's it made of?     I should say it was made of the motions. There's a similar idea aboutthe atom. Another thing that's like a crystal is that it appears tobe forming around a nucleus not of its own material—the way a speckof sand thrown into a supersaturated solution becomes the nucleus ofcrystallization.     Sounds like the pearl in an oyster, Molly said, and gave me animpertinent look.     Why, I asked McGill, did you say the coins couldn't have the samedate? I mean apart from the off chance I got them that way.     Because I don't think this thing got going before today andeverything that's happened can all be described as improbable motionshere and now. The dates were already there, and to change them wouldrequire retroactive action, reversing time. That's out, in my book.That telephone now—     The doorbell rang. We were not surprised to find it was the telephonerepairman. He took the set apart and clucked like a hen.     I guess you dropped it on the floor, mister, he said with strongdisapproval.     Certainly not, I said. Is it broken?     Not exactly      broken     , but— He shook his head and took it apart somemore.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the story of MASTER of Life and Death and how does it involve Philip Prior?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in THE LORELEI DEATH? [SEP] <s>Chip stared at his friend bewilderedly for a moment. Then he grinned.Hey—I must be getting slightly whacky in my old age. I stand herewith an unopened bottle in my hands and hear things! For a minute Ithought you said 'Lorelei.' The Lorelei, my space-cop friend, is amyth. An old Teutonic myth about a beautiful damsel who sits out inthe middle of a sea on a treacherous rock, combing her golden locks,warbling and luring her fascinated admirers to destruction.     He grunted. A dirty trick, if you ask me. Catch a snort of thisalleged Scotch, pal, and I'll torture your eardrums with the whole, sadstory. He started to sing. '      Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten     —'     The Patrolman laid a hand on his arm, silenced him.     It's not funny, Chip. You've described the Lorelei exactly. That'show she got her name. An incredibly beautiful woman who wantonly luresspace-mariners to their death.     The only difference is that her 'rock' is an asteroid somewhere inthe Belt—and she does not sing, she calls! She began exercisingher vicious appeal about two months ago, Earth reckoning. Sincethen, no less than a dozen spacecraft—freighters, liners, even onePatrolship—have fallen prey to her wiles. Their crews have beenbrutally murdered, their cargos stolen.     Wait a minute! interrupted Chip shrewdly. How do you know about herif the crews have been murdered?     She has a habit of locking the controls, explained Haldane, andsetting ravaged ships adrift. Apparently there is no room on herhideout—wherever it is—for empty hulks. One of these ships wassalvaged by a courageous cabin-boy who hid from the Lorelei and herpirate band beneath a closetful of soiled linens in the laundry. Hedescribed her. His description goes perfectly with less accurateglimpses seen over the visiphones of several score spacecraft!     Chip said soberly, So it's no joke, eh, pal? Sorry I popped off. Ithought you were pulling my leg. Where do      I     come into this mess,though?     Ekalastron! grunted Johnny succinctly. A jackpot prize for anycorsair! And you      advertised     a cargo of it over the etherwaves! TheLorelei will be waiting for you with her tongue hanging out. The onlything for you to do, kid, is go back to Jupiter or Io as fast as youcan get there. Make the Patrol give you a convoy—     A sudden light danced in Chip Warren's eyes. It was a light Syd Palmerwould have groaned to see—for it usually presaged trouble. It was abright, hard, reckless light.     Hold your jets, Johnny! drawled Chip. Aren't you forgetting onething? In a couple more hours, I can face the Lorelei and her wholemob—and be damned to them! She can't touch the      Chickadee     , becauseit's being plated right now!     Haldane snapped his fingers in quick remembrance.     By thunder, you're right! Her shells will ricochet off the      Chickadee's     hull like hail off a tin roof. Chip, are you in any hurryto reach Earth? I thought not. What do you say we go after the Lorelei      together     ! I'll swear you in as a Deputy Patrolman; we'll take the      Chickadee     and—     It's a deal! declared Chip promptly. You got any idea where thisLorelei's hangout is?     That's why I'm here on Danae. I got a tip that one of the Lorelei'smen put in here for supplies. I hoped maybe I could single himout somehow, follow him when he jetted for his base, and in thatway—      Chip! Look out!       <doc-sep>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>Two hours later, Chip was still following the bright pinpoint ofscarlet which marked the course of his quarry.     In the time that had elapsed since their take-off, he had told hisfriends the whole story. When he told about the Lorelei, SalvationSmith's seamy old features screwed up in a perplexed grimace. Awoman pirate in the Belt, son? I find it hard to believe. Yet— Andwhen he described the death of Johnny Haldane, anger smoldered in themissionary's eyes, and Syd Palmer's hands knotted into tight, whitefists. Said Syd, A man with a scar, eh? Well, we'll catch him sooneror later. And when we do— His tone boded no good to the man who hadslain an old and loved friend.     As a matter of fact, offered Salvation, we've got him now. Any timeyou say the word, Chip. We're faster than he is. We can close in on himin five minutes.     I know, nodded Warren grimly. But we won't do it—yet. I'm borrowinga bit of Johnny's strategy. I've been plotting his course. As soon asI'm sure of his destination, we'll take care of      him     . But our firstand most vital problem is to locate the Lorelei's hideaway.     Syd said, That's all right with me, chum. I like a good scrap as muchas the next guy. Better, maybe. But this isn't our concern, strictlyspeaking. What we ought to do is report this matter to the SpacePatrol, let them take care of it.     Salvation shook his head.     That's where you're mistaken, Sydney. This is very much our concern.So much so, in fact, that we dare not make port again until it'scleared up. I think you have forgotten that it is not the scar-facedman who is wanted for the killing of Haldane—but Chip!     B-but— gasped Palmer—b-but that's ridiculous! Chip and Johnny wereold buddies. Lifelong friends!     Nevertheless, the circumstantial evidence indicates Chip's guilt.Twenty men saw him standing over Johnny's dead body, with aflame-pistol in his hand. And the barkeep heard Johnny 'arrest' Chipand accuse him of murder!     Chip said ruefully, That's right, Syd. It was only a joke, but itbackfired. The bartender thought Johnny meant it. He scooted out ofthere like a bat out of Hades. I'm in it up to my neck unless we canbring back evidence that Scarface actually did the killing. And thatmay not be so easy.     He stirred restlessly. But we'll cross that bridge when we come toit. Right now our job is to keep this rat in sight. We've gone fartheralready than I expected we would. He turned to the old preacher.Where do you think we're going, Padre? Out of the Belt entirely?     I've been wondering that myself, son. I don't know for sure, ofcourse, but it looks to me as if we're going for the Bog. If so, you'dbetter keep a weather-eye peeled.     The Bog! Chip had never penetrated the planetoids so deeply before,but he knew of the Bog by hearsay. All men did. A treacherous region oftightly packed asteroids, a mad and whirling scramble of the giganticrocks which, aeons ago, had been a planet. Few spacemen dared penetratethe Bog. Of those who did dare, few returned to tell the tale. TheBog! Say! I'd      better     keep a sharp lookout!     He turned to the      perilens     once more, fastened an eye to its lens. Andthen—     Syd! he cried. Salvation! Look! She—she—!     He pressed the plunger that transferred the      perilens     image to thecentral viewscreen. And as he did so, a phantom filled the area whichshould have revealed yawning space, gay with the spangles of a myriadglowing orbs. The vision of an unbelievably beautiful girl, thegolden-crowned embodiment of a man's fondest dreaming, eyes wide withan indistinguishable emotion, arms stretched wide in mute appeal.     And from the throats of all came simultaneous recognition.           The Lorelei!       <doc-sep>   THE LORELEI DEATH     by NELSON S. BOND     Far out in limitless Space she plied     her deadly trade ... a Lorelei of the     void, beckoning spacemen to death and     destruction with her beautiful siren lure.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Winter 1941.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Chip Warren stood before an oblong of glass set into one wall ofthe spaceship      Chickadee II     , stared at what he saw reflectedtherefrom—and frowned. He didn't like it. Not a bit! It was too—too—     He turned away angrily, ripped the offending article from about hisneck, and chose another necktie from the rack. This one was brighter,gaudier, much more in keeping with the gaiety of his mood. He emitted agrunt of satisfaction, spun from the mirror to face his two companionstriumphantly.     There! How do you like      that     ?     Syd Palmer, short and chubby, tow-headed and liquid-blue of eye, alwayslanguid save when engaged in the solution of some engineering problemconcerned with the space vessel he mothered like a brooding hen, moanedinsultingly and forced a shudder.     Sunspots! Novae! Flying comets! And he wears 'em around his neck!     You, Chip told him serenely, have no appreciation of beauty. What do      you     think of it, Padre?     Salvation Smith, a tall, gangling scarecrow garbed in rusty black,a lean-jawed, hawkeyed man with tumbled locks of silver framing hisweathered cheeks like a halo, concealed his grin poorly. Well,my boy, he admitted, there is      some     Biblical precedent foryour—ahem!—clamorous raiment. 'So Joseph made for himself a coatwhich was of many colors—'     Both of you, declared Chip, give me a pain in the pants!Stick-in-the-muds! Here we are in port for the first time in months,cargo-bins loaded to the gunwales with enough ekalastron to make usrich for life—and you sit here like a pair of stuffed owls!     Well, not me! I'm going to take a night off, throw myself a party thelikes of which was never seen around these parts. Put a candle in thewindow, chilluns, 'cause li'l' Chip won't be home till the wee, sma'hours!     Syd chuckled.     O.Q., big shot. But don't get too cozy with any of those joy-jointentertainers. Remember what happened to poor old Dougal MacNeer!     Salvation said soberly, Syd's just fooling, my boy. But I      would     becareful if I were you. We're in the Belt, you know. The forces of lawand order do not always govern these wild outposts of civilization aswell as might be hoped. The planetoids are dens of iniquity, violentand unheeding the words of Him who rules all—     The old man's lips etched a straight line, reminding Chip thatSalvation Smith was not one of those milk-and-water missionaries whoespoused the principle of turning the other cheek to evildoers.Salvation was not the ordained emissary of any church. A devoutlyreligious man with the heart of an adventurer, he had taken uponhimself the mission of carrying to outland tribes the story of the Godhe worshipped.     That his God was the fierce Yahveh of the Old Testament, a God ofanger and retribution, was made evident by the methods Salvationsometimes employed in winning his converts. For not only was Salvationacknowledged the most pious man in space; he was also conceded to bethe best hand with a gun!     Now Chip gave quiet answer. I know, Padre: I'll be careful. Well,Syd—sure you won't change your mind and come along?     No can do, chum. The spaceport repair crew's still smearing thisjalopy with ek. Got to stay and watch 'em.     O.Q. I'm off alone, then. See you later!     And, whistling, Chip Warren stepped through the lock of the      Chickadee     onto the soil of the asteroid Danae.  <doc-sep>It was only two stories down the moving ramp to Lorelei Cooper'slaboratory. Peter took it in fifteen seconds, running, and stumbled toa halt in front of the door marked Radiation. She had set her doormechanism to Etaoin Shrdlu, principally because he hated double-talk.He mouthed the syllables, had to repeat them because he put an accentin the wrong place, and squeezed through the door as soon as it openedfar enough to admit him.     Lorelei, beautiful in spite of dark-circled eyes and a smear of greaseon her chin, looked up from a huge ledger at the end of the room. Oneblonde eyebrow arched in the quizzical expression he knew so well.     What makes, Peter my love? she asked, and bent back to the ledger.Then she did a double-take, looked at his face intently, and said,Darling, what's wrong?     He said, Have you seen the news recently?     She frowned. Why, no—Harry and I have been working for thirty-sixhours straight. Haven't seen anybody, haven't heard anything. Why?     You wouldn't believe me. Where's your newsbox?     She came around the desk and put her hands on his shoulders. Pete,you know I haven't one—it bores me or upsets me, depending on whetherthere's trouble or not. What—     I'm sorry, I forgot, he said. But you have a scanner?     Yes, of course. But really, Pete—     You'll understand in a minute. Turn it on, Lorelei.     She gazed at him levelly for a moment, kissed him impulsively, and thenwalked over to the video panel on the wall and swept a mountain ofpapers away from in front of it. She turned the selector dial to Newsand pressed the stud.     A faint wash of color appeared on the panel, strengthened slowly, andsuddenly leapt into full brilliance.     Lorelei caught her breath.     It was a street scene in the Science City of Manhattan, flooded bythe warm spring sunshine. Down on the lowest level, visible past thetransport and passenger tubes, the parks and moving ways should havebeen dotted with colorful, holiday crowds. The people were there,yes but they were flowing away in a swiftly-widening circle. Theydisappeared into buildings, and the ways snatched them up, and in aheartbeat they were gone.     There were left only two blood-red, malignant monstrosities somehowdefiling the air they floated in; and below them, a pitiful huddle offlesh no longer recognizable as human beings. They were not dead, thosemen and women, but they wanted to be. Their bodies had been impossiblyjoined, fused together into a single obscene, floundering mass ofhelpless protoplasm. The thin moaning that went up from them was morehorrible than any cry of agony.     The Invaders are here, citizens, the commentator was saying in astrangled voice. Stay off the streets. Hide yourselves. Stay off thestreets.... His voice droned on, but neither of them heard it.  <doc-sep>Somebody said, Doctor!     He wanted to say, Yes, get a doctor. Lorelei— but his mouth onlytwitched feebly. He couldn't seem to get it to work properly.     He tried again. Doctor.     Yes? A gentle, masculine voice.     He opened his eyes with an effort. There was a blurred face before him;in a moment it grew clearer. The strong, clean-shaven chin contrastedoddly with the haggard circles under the eyes. There was a clean,starched odor.     Where am I? he said. He tried to turn his head, but a firm handpressed him back into the sheets.     You're in a hospital. Just lie quietly, please.     He tried to get up again. Where's Lorelei?     She's well, and you'll see her soon. Now lie quietly. You've been avery sick man.     Peter sank back in the bed. The room was coming into focus. He lookedaround him slowly. He felt very weak, but perfectly lucid.     Yes.... he said. How long have I been here, Doctor?     The man hesitated, looked at him intently. Three months, he said. Heturned and gave low-voiced instructions to a nurse, and then went away.     Peter's head began spinning just a little. Glass clinked from a metalstand near his head; the nurse bent over him with a glass half full ofmilky fluid. It tasted awful, but she made him drink it all.     In a moment he began to relax, and the room got fuzzy again. Justbefore he drifted off, he said sleepily, You can't—fool me. It's been      more     —than three—months.     He was right. All the nurses, and even Dr. Arnold, were evasive, but hekept asking them why he couldn't see Lorelei, and finally he wormed itout of them. It had been nine and a half months, not three, and he'dbeen in a coma all that time. Lorelei, it seemed, had recovered muchsooner.     She was only suffering from ordinary shock, Arnold explained.Seeing that assistant of hers—it was enough to knock anybody out,especially a woman. But you stood actual mental contact with      them     for approximately five minutes. Yes, we know—you talked a lot. It's amiracle you're alive, and rational.     But where is she? Peter complained. You still haven't explained whyI haven't been able to see her.     Arnold frowned. All right, he said. I guess you're strong enough totake it. She's underground, with the rest of the women and children,and a good two-thirds of the male population. That's where you'll go,as soon as you're well enough to be moved. We started digging in sixmonths ago.     But why? Peter whispered.     Arnold's strong jaw knotted. We're hiding, he said. Everything elsehas failed.     Peter couldn't think of anything to say. Dr. Arnold's voice went onafter a moment, musingly. We're burrowing into the earth, like worms.It didn't take us long to find out we couldn't kill them. They didn'teven take any notice of our attempts to do so, except once. That waswhen a squadron of the Police caught about fifty of them together atone time, and attacked with flame guns and a new secret weapon. Itdidn't hurt them, but it annoyed them. It was the first time they'dbeen annoyed, I think. They blew up half a state, and it's stillsmoldering.     And since then? Peter asked huskily.     Since then, we've been burrowing. All the big cities.... It would bean impossible task if we tried to include all the thinly-populatedareas, of course, but it doesn't matter. By the time we excavateenough to take care of a quarter of the earth's population, the otherthree-quarters will be dead, or worse.     I wonder, Peter said shakily, if I am strong enough to take it.     Arnold laughed harshly. You are. You've got to be. You're part of ourlast hope, you see.     Our last hope?     Yes. You're a scientist.     I see, said Peter. And for the first time, he thought of the      Citadel     . No plan leaped full-born into his mind, but,      maybe     , hethought,      there's a chance     ....  <doc-sep>Peter forced himself forward another step. Little Harry Kanin,Lorelei's assistant, was crumpled in a corner, half supported by thebroad base of an X-ray chamber. His face was flaccid and bloated. Hisglazed eyes, impassive yet somehow pleading, stared at nothingnessstraight ahead of him.     The Invaders ignored Peter, staring expressionlessly down at Kanin.In a moment Peter realized what they were doing to him. He stood,paralyzed with horror, and watched it happen.     The little man's body was sagging, ever so slowly, as if he wererelaxing tiredly. His torso was telescoping, bit by bit; his spreadlegs grew wider and more shapeless, his cheeks caved in and his skullgrew gradually flatter.     When it was over, the thing that had been Kanin was a limp, bonelesspuddle of flesh. Peter could not look at it.     There was a scream in his throat that would not come out. He was beyondfear, beyond agony. He turned to the still-hovering monsters and saidin a terrible voice, Why? Why?     The nearest being turned slowly to regard him. Its lips did not move,but there was a tiny sound in Peter's brain, a thin, dry whispering.     The scream was welling up. He fought it down and listened.           Wurnkomellilonasendiktolsasangkanmiamiamimami....          The face was staring directly into his, the bulging eyes hypnotic. Theears were small, no more than excresences of skin. The narrow lipsseemed sealed together; a thin, slimy ichor drooled from them. Therewere lines in the face, but they were lines of age, not emotion. Onlythe eyes were alive.           ... raswilopreatadvuonistuwurncchtusanlgkelglawwalinom....          I can't understand, he cried wildly. What do you want?           ... morofelcovisyanmamiwurlectaunntous.          He heard a faint sound behind him, and whirled. It was the firsttime he had realized that Lorelei had followed him. She stood there,swaying, very pale, looking at the red Invaders. Her eyes swiveledslowly....           Opreniktoulestritifenrelngetnaktwiltoctpre.          His voice was hoarse. Don't look! Don't—Go back! The horrible,mindless noise in his throat was almost beyond his power to repress.His insides writhed to thrust it out.     She didn't see him. Her eyes glazed, and she dropped limply to thefloor.     The scream came out then. Before he knew, even, that he could holdit back no longer, his mouth was wide open, his muscles tensed, hisfingernails slicing his palms. It echoed with unbelievable volume inthe room. It was a scream to split eardrums; a scream to wake the dead.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in THE LORELEI DEATH?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the meaning of the Lorelei in THE LORELEI DEATH? [SEP] <s>Chip stared at his friend bewilderedly for a moment. Then he grinned.Hey—I must be getting slightly whacky in my old age. I stand herewith an unopened bottle in my hands and hear things! For a minute Ithought you said 'Lorelei.' The Lorelei, my space-cop friend, is amyth. An old Teutonic myth about a beautiful damsel who sits out inthe middle of a sea on a treacherous rock, combing her golden locks,warbling and luring her fascinated admirers to destruction.     He grunted. A dirty trick, if you ask me. Catch a snort of thisalleged Scotch, pal, and I'll torture your eardrums with the whole, sadstory. He started to sing. '      Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten     —'     The Patrolman laid a hand on his arm, silenced him.     It's not funny, Chip. You've described the Lorelei exactly. That'show she got her name. An incredibly beautiful woman who wantonly luresspace-mariners to their death.     The only difference is that her 'rock' is an asteroid somewhere inthe Belt—and she does not sing, she calls! She began exercisingher vicious appeal about two months ago, Earth reckoning. Sincethen, no less than a dozen spacecraft—freighters, liners, even onePatrolship—have fallen prey to her wiles. Their crews have beenbrutally murdered, their cargos stolen.     Wait a minute! interrupted Chip shrewdly. How do you know about herif the crews have been murdered?     She has a habit of locking the controls, explained Haldane, andsetting ravaged ships adrift. Apparently there is no room on herhideout—wherever it is—for empty hulks. One of these ships wassalvaged by a courageous cabin-boy who hid from the Lorelei and herpirate band beneath a closetful of soiled linens in the laundry. Hedescribed her. His description goes perfectly with less accurateglimpses seen over the visiphones of several score spacecraft!     Chip said soberly, So it's no joke, eh, pal? Sorry I popped off. Ithought you were pulling my leg. Where do      I     come into this mess,though?     Ekalastron! grunted Johnny succinctly. A jackpot prize for anycorsair! And you      advertised     a cargo of it over the etherwaves! TheLorelei will be waiting for you with her tongue hanging out. The onlything for you to do, kid, is go back to Jupiter or Io as fast as youcan get there. Make the Patrol give you a convoy—     A sudden light danced in Chip Warren's eyes. It was a light Syd Palmerwould have groaned to see—for it usually presaged trouble. It was abright, hard, reckless light.     Hold your jets, Johnny! drawled Chip. Aren't you forgetting onething? In a couple more hours, I can face the Lorelei and her wholemob—and be damned to them! She can't touch the      Chickadee     , becauseit's being plated right now!     Haldane snapped his fingers in quick remembrance.     By thunder, you're right! Her shells will ricochet off the      Chickadee's     hull like hail off a tin roof. Chip, are you in any hurryto reach Earth? I thought not. What do you say we go after the Lorelei      together     ! I'll swear you in as a Deputy Patrolman; we'll take the      Chickadee     and—     It's a deal! declared Chip promptly. You got any idea where thisLorelei's hangout is?     That's why I'm here on Danae. I got a tip that one of the Lorelei'smen put in here for supplies. I hoped maybe I could single himout somehow, follow him when he jetted for his base, and in thatway—      Chip! Look out!       <doc-sep>It was only two stories down the moving ramp to Lorelei Cooper'slaboratory. Peter took it in fifteen seconds, running, and stumbled toa halt in front of the door marked Radiation. She had set her doormechanism to Etaoin Shrdlu, principally because he hated double-talk.He mouthed the syllables, had to repeat them because he put an accentin the wrong place, and squeezed through the door as soon as it openedfar enough to admit him.     Lorelei, beautiful in spite of dark-circled eyes and a smear of greaseon her chin, looked up from a huge ledger at the end of the room. Oneblonde eyebrow arched in the quizzical expression he knew so well.     What makes, Peter my love? she asked, and bent back to the ledger.Then she did a double-take, looked at his face intently, and said,Darling, what's wrong?     He said, Have you seen the news recently?     She frowned. Why, no—Harry and I have been working for thirty-sixhours straight. Haven't seen anybody, haven't heard anything. Why?     You wouldn't believe me. Where's your newsbox?     She came around the desk and put her hands on his shoulders. Pete,you know I haven't one—it bores me or upsets me, depending on whetherthere's trouble or not. What—     I'm sorry, I forgot, he said. But you have a scanner?     Yes, of course. But really, Pete—     You'll understand in a minute. Turn it on, Lorelei.     She gazed at him levelly for a moment, kissed him impulsively, and thenwalked over to the video panel on the wall and swept a mountain ofpapers away from in front of it. She turned the selector dial to Newsand pressed the stud.     A faint wash of color appeared on the panel, strengthened slowly, andsuddenly leapt into full brilliance.     Lorelei caught her breath.     It was a street scene in the Science City of Manhattan, flooded bythe warm spring sunshine. Down on the lowest level, visible past thetransport and passenger tubes, the parks and moving ways should havebeen dotted with colorful, holiday crowds. The people were there,yes but they were flowing away in a swiftly-widening circle. Theydisappeared into buildings, and the ways snatched them up, and in aheartbeat they were gone.     There were left only two blood-red, malignant monstrosities somehowdefiling the air they floated in; and below them, a pitiful huddle offlesh no longer recognizable as human beings. They were not dead, thosemen and women, but they wanted to be. Their bodies had been impossiblyjoined, fused together into a single obscene, floundering mass ofhelpless protoplasm. The thin moaning that went up from them was morehorrible than any cry of agony.     The Invaders are here, citizens, the commentator was saying in astrangled voice. Stay off the streets. Hide yourselves. Stay off thestreets.... His voice droned on, but neither of them heard it.  <doc-sep>Two hours later, Chip was still following the bright pinpoint ofscarlet which marked the course of his quarry.     In the time that had elapsed since their take-off, he had told hisfriends the whole story. When he told about the Lorelei, SalvationSmith's seamy old features screwed up in a perplexed grimace. Awoman pirate in the Belt, son? I find it hard to believe. Yet— Andwhen he described the death of Johnny Haldane, anger smoldered in themissionary's eyes, and Syd Palmer's hands knotted into tight, whitefists. Said Syd, A man with a scar, eh? Well, we'll catch him sooneror later. And when we do— His tone boded no good to the man who hadslain an old and loved friend.     As a matter of fact, offered Salvation, we've got him now. Any timeyou say the word, Chip. We're faster than he is. We can close in on himin five minutes.     I know, nodded Warren grimly. But we won't do it—yet. I'm borrowinga bit of Johnny's strategy. I've been plotting his course. As soon asI'm sure of his destination, we'll take care of      him     . But our firstand most vital problem is to locate the Lorelei's hideaway.     Syd said, That's all right with me, chum. I like a good scrap as muchas the next guy. Better, maybe. But this isn't our concern, strictlyspeaking. What we ought to do is report this matter to the SpacePatrol, let them take care of it.     Salvation shook his head.     That's where you're mistaken, Sydney. This is very much our concern.So much so, in fact, that we dare not make port again until it'scleared up. I think you have forgotten that it is not the scar-facedman who is wanted for the killing of Haldane—but Chip!     B-but— gasped Palmer—b-but that's ridiculous! Chip and Johnny wereold buddies. Lifelong friends!     Nevertheless, the circumstantial evidence indicates Chip's guilt.Twenty men saw him standing over Johnny's dead body, with aflame-pistol in his hand. And the barkeep heard Johnny 'arrest' Chipand accuse him of murder!     Chip said ruefully, That's right, Syd. It was only a joke, but itbackfired. The bartender thought Johnny meant it. He scooted out ofthere like a bat out of Hades. I'm in it up to my neck unless we canbring back evidence that Scarface actually did the killing. And thatmay not be so easy.     He stirred restlessly. But we'll cross that bridge when we come toit. Right now our job is to keep this rat in sight. We've gone fartheralready than I expected we would. He turned to the old preacher.Where do you think we're going, Padre? Out of the Belt entirely?     I've been wondering that myself, son. I don't know for sure, ofcourse, but it looks to me as if we're going for the Bog. If so, you'dbetter keep a weather-eye peeled.     The Bog! Chip had never penetrated the planetoids so deeply before,but he knew of the Bog by hearsay. All men did. A treacherous region oftightly packed asteroids, a mad and whirling scramble of the giganticrocks which, aeons ago, had been a planet. Few spacemen dared penetratethe Bog. Of those who did dare, few returned to tell the tale. TheBog! Say! I'd      better     keep a sharp lookout!     He turned to the      perilens     once more, fastened an eye to its lens. Andthen—     Syd! he cried. Salvation! Look! She—she—!     He pressed the plunger that transferred the      perilens     image to thecentral viewscreen. And as he did so, a phantom filled the area whichshould have revealed yawning space, gay with the spangles of a myriadglowing orbs. The vision of an unbelievably beautiful girl, thegolden-crowned embodiment of a man's fondest dreaming, eyes wide withan indistinguishable emotion, arms stretched wide in mute appeal.     And from the throats of all came simultaneous recognition.           The Lorelei!       <doc-sep>Somebody said, Doctor!     He wanted to say, Yes, get a doctor. Lorelei— but his mouth onlytwitched feebly. He couldn't seem to get it to work properly.     He tried again. Doctor.     Yes? A gentle, masculine voice.     He opened his eyes with an effort. There was a blurred face before him;in a moment it grew clearer. The strong, clean-shaven chin contrastedoddly with the haggard circles under the eyes. There was a clean,starched odor.     Where am I? he said. He tried to turn his head, but a firm handpressed him back into the sheets.     You're in a hospital. Just lie quietly, please.     He tried to get up again. Where's Lorelei?     She's well, and you'll see her soon. Now lie quietly. You've been avery sick man.     Peter sank back in the bed. The room was coming into focus. He lookedaround him slowly. He felt very weak, but perfectly lucid.     Yes.... he said. How long have I been here, Doctor?     The man hesitated, looked at him intently. Three months, he said. Heturned and gave low-voiced instructions to a nurse, and then went away.     Peter's head began spinning just a little. Glass clinked from a metalstand near his head; the nurse bent over him with a glass half full ofmilky fluid. It tasted awful, but she made him drink it all.     In a moment he began to relax, and the room got fuzzy again. Justbefore he drifted off, he said sleepily, You can't—fool me. It's been      more     —than three—months.     He was right. All the nurses, and even Dr. Arnold, were evasive, but hekept asking them why he couldn't see Lorelei, and finally he wormed itout of them. It had been nine and a half months, not three, and he'dbeen in a coma all that time. Lorelei, it seemed, had recovered muchsooner.     She was only suffering from ordinary shock, Arnold explained.Seeing that assistant of hers—it was enough to knock anybody out,especially a woman. But you stood actual mental contact with      them     for approximately five minutes. Yes, we know—you talked a lot. It's amiracle you're alive, and rational.     But where is she? Peter complained. You still haven't explained whyI haven't been able to see her.     Arnold frowned. All right, he said. I guess you're strong enough totake it. She's underground, with the rest of the women and children,and a good two-thirds of the male population. That's where you'll go,as soon as you're well enough to be moved. We started digging in sixmonths ago.     But why? Peter whispered.     Arnold's strong jaw knotted. We're hiding, he said. Everything elsehas failed.     Peter couldn't think of anything to say. Dr. Arnold's voice went onafter a moment, musingly. We're burrowing into the earth, like worms.It didn't take us long to find out we couldn't kill them. They didn'teven take any notice of our attempts to do so, except once. That waswhen a squadron of the Police caught about fifty of them together atone time, and attacked with flame guns and a new secret weapon. Itdidn't hurt them, but it annoyed them. It was the first time they'dbeen annoyed, I think. They blew up half a state, and it's stillsmoldering.     And since then? Peter asked huskily.     Since then, we've been burrowing. All the big cities.... It would bean impossible task if we tried to include all the thinly-populatedareas, of course, but it doesn't matter. By the time we excavateenough to take care of a quarter of the earth's population, the otherthree-quarters will be dead, or worse.     I wonder, Peter said shakily, if I am strong enough to take it.     Arnold laughed harshly. You are. You've got to be. You're part of ourlast hope, you see.     Our last hope?     Yes. You're a scientist.     I see, said Peter. And for the first time, he thought of the      Citadel     . No plan leaped full-born into his mind, but,      maybe     , hethought,      there's a chance     ....  <doc-sep>   THE LORELEI DEATH     by NELSON S. BOND     Far out in limitless Space she plied     her deadly trade ... a Lorelei of the     void, beckoning spacemen to death and     destruction with her beautiful siren lure.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Winter 1941.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Chip Warren stood before an oblong of glass set into one wall ofthe spaceship      Chickadee II     , stared at what he saw reflectedtherefrom—and frowned. He didn't like it. Not a bit! It was too—too—     He turned away angrily, ripped the offending article from about hisneck, and chose another necktie from the rack. This one was brighter,gaudier, much more in keeping with the gaiety of his mood. He emitted agrunt of satisfaction, spun from the mirror to face his two companionstriumphantly.     There! How do you like      that     ?     Syd Palmer, short and chubby, tow-headed and liquid-blue of eye, alwayslanguid save when engaged in the solution of some engineering problemconcerned with the space vessel he mothered like a brooding hen, moanedinsultingly and forced a shudder.     Sunspots! Novae! Flying comets! And he wears 'em around his neck!     You, Chip told him serenely, have no appreciation of beauty. What do      you     think of it, Padre?     Salvation Smith, a tall, gangling scarecrow garbed in rusty black,a lean-jawed, hawkeyed man with tumbled locks of silver framing hisweathered cheeks like a halo, concealed his grin poorly. Well,my boy, he admitted, there is      some     Biblical precedent foryour—ahem!—clamorous raiment. 'So Joseph made for himself a coatwhich was of many colors—'     Both of you, declared Chip, give me a pain in the pants!Stick-in-the-muds! Here we are in port for the first time in months,cargo-bins loaded to the gunwales with enough ekalastron to make usrich for life—and you sit here like a pair of stuffed owls!     Well, not me! I'm going to take a night off, throw myself a party thelikes of which was never seen around these parts. Put a candle in thewindow, chilluns, 'cause li'l' Chip won't be home till the wee, sma'hours!     Syd chuckled.     O.Q., big shot. But don't get too cozy with any of those joy-jointentertainers. Remember what happened to poor old Dougal MacNeer!     Salvation said soberly, Syd's just fooling, my boy. But I      would     becareful if I were you. We're in the Belt, you know. The forces of lawand order do not always govern these wild outposts of civilization aswell as might be hoped. The planetoids are dens of iniquity, violentand unheeding the words of Him who rules all—     The old man's lips etched a straight line, reminding Chip thatSalvation Smith was not one of those milk-and-water missionaries whoespoused the principle of turning the other cheek to evildoers.Salvation was not the ordained emissary of any church. A devoutlyreligious man with the heart of an adventurer, he had taken uponhimself the mission of carrying to outland tribes the story of the Godhe worshipped.     That his God was the fierce Yahveh of the Old Testament, a God ofanger and retribution, was made evident by the methods Salvationsometimes employed in winning his converts. For not only was Salvationacknowledged the most pious man in space; he was also conceded to bethe best hand with a gun!     Now Chip gave quiet answer. I know, Padre: I'll be careful. Well,Syd—sure you won't change your mind and come along?     No can do, chum. The spaceport repair crew's still smearing thisjalopy with ek. Got to stay and watch 'em.     O.Q. I'm off alone, then. See you later!     And, whistling, Chip Warren stepped through the lock of the      Chickadee     onto the soil of the asteroid Danae.  <doc-sep>III     From a billion miles away, from a bourne unguessable thousands oflight-years distant, came the faint, far whisper of a voice. Nearer andnearer it came, and ever faster, till it throbbed upon Chip's eardrumswith booming savagery.     —coming to, now. Good! We'll soon find out—     Chip opened his eyes, too dazed, at first, to understand the situationin which he found himself. Gone was the familiar control-turret of the      Chickadee     , gone the bulger into which he had so hastily clambered. Helay on the parched, rocky soil of a—a something. A planetoid, perhaps.And he was surrounded by a motley crew of strangers: scum of all theplanets that circle the Sun....     Then recollection flooded back upon him, sudden and complete. Thechase ... the call of the fateful Lorelei ... the crash! New strength,born of anger, surged through him. He lifted his head.     My—my companions? he demanded weakly.     The leader of those who encircled him, a mighty hulk of a man, massiveof shoulder and thigh, black-haired, with an unshaven blue jaw,raven-bright eyes and a jutting, aquiline nose like the beak of a hawk,loosed a satisfied grunt.     Ah! Back to normal, eh, sailor? Damn near time!     Climbing to his feet sent a swift wave of giddiness through Chip—buthe managed it. He fought down the vertigo which threatened to overwhelmhim, and confronted the big man boldly.     What, he stormed, is the meaning of this?     The giant stared at him for a moment, his jaw slack. Then hisraven-bright eyes glittered; he slapped a trunklike thigh and guffawedin boisterous mirth.     Hear that? he roared to his companions. Quite a guy, ain't he?'What's the meanin' o' this?' he asks! Game little fightin' cock, hey?Then he sobered abruptly, and a grim light replaced the amusement inhis eyes. Here was not a man to be trifled with, Chip realized. Histone assumed a biting edge. The meanin' is, my bucko, he answeredmirthlessly, that you've run afoul o' your last reef. Unless you havea sane head on your shoulders, and you're willing to talk fast andstraight!     Talk?     Don't stall. We've already unloaded your bins. We found it. And a nicehaul, too. Thanks for lettin' us know it was on the way. The burly onechuckled coarsely. We'd have took it, anyway, but you helped mattersout by comin' to us.     Johnny Haldane had been right, then. Chip remembered his friend'sominous warning. —if your message was intercepted, you may haveplayed into the hands of— He said slowly, Then you      are     theLorelei's men?     The who? Never mind that, bucko, just talk. That ekalastron—where didit come from?     And it occurred to Warren suddenly that although the big man      did     holdthe whip hand, he was still not in possession of the most importantsecret of all! While the location of the ekalastron mine remained asecret, a deadlock existed.     And if I won't tell—? he countered shrewdly.     Why, then, sailor— The pirate leader's hamlike fists tightened, anda cold light glinted in his eyes—why, then I guess maybe I'll have tobeat it out o' you!  <doc-sep>Peter forced himself forward another step. Little Harry Kanin,Lorelei's assistant, was crumpled in a corner, half supported by thebroad base of an X-ray chamber. His face was flaccid and bloated. Hisglazed eyes, impassive yet somehow pleading, stared at nothingnessstraight ahead of him.     The Invaders ignored Peter, staring expressionlessly down at Kanin.In a moment Peter realized what they were doing to him. He stood,paralyzed with horror, and watched it happen.     The little man's body was sagging, ever so slowly, as if he wererelaxing tiredly. His torso was telescoping, bit by bit; his spreadlegs grew wider and more shapeless, his cheeks caved in and his skullgrew gradually flatter.     When it was over, the thing that had been Kanin was a limp, bonelesspuddle of flesh. Peter could not look at it.     There was a scream in his throat that would not come out. He was beyondfear, beyond agony. He turned to the still-hovering monsters and saidin a terrible voice, Why? Why?     The nearest being turned slowly to regard him. Its lips did not move,but there was a tiny sound in Peter's brain, a thin, dry whispering.     The scream was welling up. He fought it down and listened.           Wurnkomellilonasendiktolsasangkanmiamiamimami....          The face was staring directly into his, the bulging eyes hypnotic. Theears were small, no more than excresences of skin. The narrow lipsseemed sealed together; a thin, slimy ichor drooled from them. Therewere lines in the face, but they were lines of age, not emotion. Onlythe eyes were alive.           ... raswilopreatadvuonistuwurncchtusanlgkelglawwalinom....          I can't understand, he cried wildly. What do you want?           ... morofelcovisyanmamiwurlectaunntous.          He heard a faint sound behind him, and whirled. It was the firsttime he had realized that Lorelei had followed him. She stood there,swaying, very pale, looking at the red Invaders. Her eyes swiveledslowly....           Opreniktoulestritifenrelngetnaktwiltoctpre.          His voice was hoarse. Don't look! Don't—Go back! The horrible,mindless noise in his throat was almost beyond his power to repress.His insides writhed to thrust it out.     She didn't see him. Her eyes glazed, and she dropped limply to thefloor.     The scream came out then. Before he knew, even, that he could holdit back no longer, his mouth was wide open, his muscles tensed, hisfingernails slicing his palms. It echoed with unbelievable volume inthe room. It was a scream to split eardrums; a scream to wake the dead.  <doc-sep>Lorelei buried her head on his chest, clutching at him desperately.Peter! she said faintly. Why do they broadcast such things?     They have to, he told her grimly. There will be panics and suicides,and they know it; but they have to do it. This isn't like a war, wherethe noncombatants' morale has to be kept up. There aren't going to beany noncombatants, this time. Everybody in the world has to know aboutthem, so that he can fight them—and then it may not be enough.     The viewpoint of the teleo sender changed as the two red beings soaredaway from their victims and angled slowly up the street. Peter reachedout to switch off the scanner, and froze. The girl felt his musclestense abruptly, looked back at the scene. The Invaders were floatingup the sloping side of a tall, pure white structure that dominated therest.     That's the Atlas building, she said unbelievingly. Us!     Yes.     Silently, they counted stories as the two beings rose. Forty-five ...forty-six ... forty-seven ... forty-eight. Inevitably, they halted.Then they faded slowly. It was impossible to say whether they had gonethrough the solid wall, or simply melted away.     The man and woman clung together, waiting.     There was a thick, oppressive silence, full of small rustlings andother faint sounds that were no longer normal. Then, very near, a manscreamed in a high, inhuman voice. The screamed dwindled into a throatygurgle and died, leaving silence again.     Peter's lips were cold with sweat. Tiny nerves in his face and armswere jumping convulsively. His stomach crawled. He thrust the girl awayfrom him and started toward the inner room.     Wait here, he mouthed.     She was after him, clinging to his arms. No, Peter! Don't go in there!      Peter!      But he pushed her away again, woodenly, and stalked forward.     There was a space in the middle of the room where machinery had beencleared away to make room for an incompleted setup. Peter walked downthe narrow aisle, past bakelite-sheathed mechanisms and rows of animalcages, and paused just short of it.     The two red beings were there, formless bodies hazy in midair, thedistorted, hairless skulls in profile, staring at something outside hisrange of vision.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the meaning of the Lorelei in THE LORELEI DEATH?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the story of Johnny Haldane in THE LORELEI DEATH? [SEP] <s>Chip stared at his friend bewilderedly for a moment. Then he grinned.Hey—I must be getting slightly whacky in my old age. I stand herewith an unopened bottle in my hands and hear things! For a minute Ithought you said 'Lorelei.' The Lorelei, my space-cop friend, is amyth. An old Teutonic myth about a beautiful damsel who sits out inthe middle of a sea on a treacherous rock, combing her golden locks,warbling and luring her fascinated admirers to destruction.     He grunted. A dirty trick, if you ask me. Catch a snort of thisalleged Scotch, pal, and I'll torture your eardrums with the whole, sadstory. He started to sing. '      Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten     —'     The Patrolman laid a hand on his arm, silenced him.     It's not funny, Chip. You've described the Lorelei exactly. That'show she got her name. An incredibly beautiful woman who wantonly luresspace-mariners to their death.     The only difference is that her 'rock' is an asteroid somewhere inthe Belt—and she does not sing, she calls! She began exercisingher vicious appeal about two months ago, Earth reckoning. Sincethen, no less than a dozen spacecraft—freighters, liners, even onePatrolship—have fallen prey to her wiles. Their crews have beenbrutally murdered, their cargos stolen.     Wait a minute! interrupted Chip shrewdly. How do you know about herif the crews have been murdered?     She has a habit of locking the controls, explained Haldane, andsetting ravaged ships adrift. Apparently there is no room on herhideout—wherever it is—for empty hulks. One of these ships wassalvaged by a courageous cabin-boy who hid from the Lorelei and herpirate band beneath a closetful of soiled linens in the laundry. Hedescribed her. His description goes perfectly with less accurateglimpses seen over the visiphones of several score spacecraft!     Chip said soberly, So it's no joke, eh, pal? Sorry I popped off. Ithought you were pulling my leg. Where do      I     come into this mess,though?     Ekalastron! grunted Johnny succinctly. A jackpot prize for anycorsair! And you      advertised     a cargo of it over the etherwaves! TheLorelei will be waiting for you with her tongue hanging out. The onlything for you to do, kid, is go back to Jupiter or Io as fast as youcan get there. Make the Patrol give you a convoy—     A sudden light danced in Chip Warren's eyes. It was a light Syd Palmerwould have groaned to see—for it usually presaged trouble. It was abright, hard, reckless light.     Hold your jets, Johnny! drawled Chip. Aren't you forgetting onething? In a couple more hours, I can face the Lorelei and her wholemob—and be damned to them! She can't touch the      Chickadee     , becauseit's being plated right now!     Haldane snapped his fingers in quick remembrance.     By thunder, you're right! Her shells will ricochet off the      Chickadee's     hull like hail off a tin roof. Chip, are you in any hurryto reach Earth? I thought not. What do you say we go after the Lorelei      together     ! I'll swear you in as a Deputy Patrolman; we'll take the      Chickadee     and—     It's a deal! declared Chip promptly. You got any idea where thisLorelei's hangout is?     That's why I'm here on Danae. I got a tip that one of the Lorelei'smen put in here for supplies. I hoped maybe I could single himout somehow, follow him when he jetted for his base, and in thatway—      Chip! Look out!       <doc-sep>Two hours later, Chip was still following the bright pinpoint ofscarlet which marked the course of his quarry.     In the time that had elapsed since their take-off, he had told hisfriends the whole story. When he told about the Lorelei, SalvationSmith's seamy old features screwed up in a perplexed grimace. Awoman pirate in the Belt, son? I find it hard to believe. Yet— Andwhen he described the death of Johnny Haldane, anger smoldered in themissionary's eyes, and Syd Palmer's hands knotted into tight, whitefists. Said Syd, A man with a scar, eh? Well, we'll catch him sooneror later. And when we do— His tone boded no good to the man who hadslain an old and loved friend.     As a matter of fact, offered Salvation, we've got him now. Any timeyou say the word, Chip. We're faster than he is. We can close in on himin five minutes.     I know, nodded Warren grimly. But we won't do it—yet. I'm borrowinga bit of Johnny's strategy. I've been plotting his course. As soon asI'm sure of his destination, we'll take care of      him     . But our firstand most vital problem is to locate the Lorelei's hideaway.     Syd said, That's all right with me, chum. I like a good scrap as muchas the next guy. Better, maybe. But this isn't our concern, strictlyspeaking. What we ought to do is report this matter to the SpacePatrol, let them take care of it.     Salvation shook his head.     That's where you're mistaken, Sydney. This is very much our concern.So much so, in fact, that we dare not make port again until it'scleared up. I think you have forgotten that it is not the scar-facedman who is wanted for the killing of Haldane—but Chip!     B-but— gasped Palmer—b-but that's ridiculous! Chip and Johnny wereold buddies. Lifelong friends!     Nevertheless, the circumstantial evidence indicates Chip's guilt.Twenty men saw him standing over Johnny's dead body, with aflame-pistol in his hand. And the barkeep heard Johnny 'arrest' Chipand accuse him of murder!     Chip said ruefully, That's right, Syd. It was only a joke, but itbackfired. The bartender thought Johnny meant it. He scooted out ofthere like a bat out of Hades. I'm in it up to my neck unless we canbring back evidence that Scarface actually did the killing. And thatmay not be so easy.     He stirred restlessly. But we'll cross that bridge when we come toit. Right now our job is to keep this rat in sight. We've gone fartheralready than I expected we would. He turned to the old preacher.Where do you think we're going, Padre? Out of the Belt entirely?     I've been wondering that myself, son. I don't know for sure, ofcourse, but it looks to me as if we're going for the Bog. If so, you'dbetter keep a weather-eye peeled.     The Bog! Chip had never penetrated the planetoids so deeply before,but he knew of the Bog by hearsay. All men did. A treacherous region oftightly packed asteroids, a mad and whirling scramble of the giganticrocks which, aeons ago, had been a planet. Few spacemen dared penetratethe Bog. Of those who did dare, few returned to tell the tale. TheBog! Say! I'd      better     keep a sharp lookout!     He turned to the      perilens     once more, fastened an eye to its lens. Andthen—     Syd! he cried. Salvation! Look! She—she—!     He pressed the plunger that transferred the      perilens     image to thecentral viewscreen. And as he did so, a phantom filled the area whichshould have revealed yawning space, gay with the spangles of a myriadglowing orbs. The vision of an unbelievably beautiful girl, thegolden-crowned embodiment of a man's fondest dreaming, eyes wide withan indistinguishable emotion, arms stretched wide in mute appeal.     And from the throats of all came simultaneous recognition.           The Lorelei!       <doc-sep>Shock momentarily immobilized Chip. Not so the bartender. He was, itseemed, an ardent pacifist. With a bleat of panic fear he scamperedfrom his post, his metallic stilts clattering off in the distance.Chip's accuser moved forward from the shadows; dim light illumined hisfeatures. And—           Johnny!      Chip's voice lifted in a note of jubilant surprise.Johnny Haldane—you old scoundrel! Where in the void did      you     dropfrom?     The S.S.P. man chuckled and returned Chip's greeting with abone-grinding handclasp.     I might ask the same of you, chum! Lord, it's been ages since we'vecrossed 'jectory! When I saw you meandering across the Casino, youcould have knocked me down with a jetblast! What's new? Is old Sydstill with you?     We're still shipmates. But he's back at the spaceport. The jerry-crewis plating our crate with ek, and—     Ek! Plating a private cruiser! Haldane stared at him in astonishment,then whistled. Sweet Sacred Stars, you must be filthy with credits tobe able to coat an entire ship with ekalastron!     You, boasted Chip, ain't heard nothing yet! And he told him howthey had discovered an entire mountain of the previous new element, No.97 in the periodic table, on frigid Titania, satellite of far Uranus.It was touch-and-go for a while, he admitted, whether we'd be theluckiest three guys in space—or the deadest! But we passed through theflaming caverns like old Shadrach in the Bible—remember?—and here weare!  [1]     Haldane was exuberant. A mountain of ekalastron! he gloated.That's the greatest contribution to spaceflight since Biggs'velocity-intensifier! It was no overstatement. Element No. 97 was ametal so light that a man could carry in one hand enough to coat theentire hull of a battleship—yet so adamant that a gossamer film ofit would deflect a meteor! A metal strong enough to crush diamonds toash—but so resilient that, when properly treated, it would reboundlike rubber! What are you going to do with it, Chip? Put it on theopen market?     Warren shook his head.     Not exactly. We talked it over carefully—Syd and Salvation and I—andwe decided there are some space-rats to whom it shouldn't be madeavailable. Privateers and outlaws, you know. So we turned control ofthe mines over to the Space Patrol at Uranus, and visiphoned the Earthauthorities we were bringing in one cargo—     Visiphoned! interrupted Haldane sharply. Did you say visiphoned?     Why—why, yes.     From where?     Oh, just before we reached the Belt. We don't have a very strongtransmitter, you know. Sa-a-ay, what's all the excitement, pal? Did wedo something that was wrong?     Haldane frowned worriedly. I don't know, Chip. It wasn't anything      wrong     , but what you did was damned dangerous. For if your message wasintercepted, you may have played into the very hands of—the Lorelei!  <doc-sep>Haldane shouted and moved at the same time. His arm lashed out wildly,thrusting, smashing Chip to the floor in a sprawling heap. The as-yetunopened bottle was now violently opened; it splintered into a thousandshards against a wall.     Bruised and shaken, Chip lifted his head to see what had causedJohnny's alarm. Even as he did so, the dull gloom of the bar wasblazoned with searing effulgence. A lancet of flame leaped from thedark, rearward doorway, burst in Johnny Haldane's face!     The Patrolman cried once, a choking cry that died in a mewling whimper.His unused pistol slipped from slackening fingers, and he sagged tothe floor. Again crimson lightning laced the shadows; Haldane's bodyjerked, and the air was raw with the hot, sickening stench of charredflesh.     With an instinct born of bitter years, Chip had come to his kneesbehind the shelter of the mahogany bar. But now his own flame-pistolwas in his hand, and a dreadful rage was mingled with the agony in hisheart. Reckless of results, he sprang to his feet, gun spewing lividdeath into the shadows.     His blast found a mark. For an instant flame haloed a human face drawnin inhuman pain. A heavy, sultry, bestial face, already puckered withone long, ugly scar that ran from right temple to jawbone, now newlyscarred with the red brand of Chip's marksmanship.     Then, before Chip could fire again, came the rasp of poundingfootsteps. The man turned and fled. Chip bent over his fallen friend,seeking, with hands that did not even feel the heat, fluttering lifebeneath still smoldering cloth.     He felt—nothing. Johnny was dead.     A snarl of sheer animal rage burst from Chip's lips. Someone would payfor this; pay dearly! Help was coming now. He himself would lead thehue-and-cry that would track a foul murderer to his lair. He spun asthe footsteps drew nearer.     Hurry! he cried. This way! Follow me—     In a bound, he hurdled the bar, lingered at the door only long enoughto let the others mark his course. For they had burst into the room,now, a full score of them. Excited, hard-bitten dogs of space,quick-triggered and willing. Once more he cried for help.     After him! Come on! He—     And then—disaster struck! For a reedy voice broke from the van of themob. The voice of the Martian bartender.     That's him! he piped sibilantly. That's the man! He's a desperatecriminal, wanted on four planets for murder! The Patrolman came toarrest him—      and now he's murdered the Spacie     !  <doc-sep>III     From a billion miles away, from a bourne unguessable thousands oflight-years distant, came the faint, far whisper of a voice. Nearer andnearer it came, and ever faster, till it throbbed upon Chip's eardrumswith booming savagery.     —coming to, now. Good! We'll soon find out—     Chip opened his eyes, too dazed, at first, to understand the situationin which he found himself. Gone was the familiar control-turret of the      Chickadee     , gone the bulger into which he had so hastily clambered. Helay on the parched, rocky soil of a—a something. A planetoid, perhaps.And he was surrounded by a motley crew of strangers: scum of all theplanets that circle the Sun....     Then recollection flooded back upon him, sudden and complete. Thechase ... the call of the fateful Lorelei ... the crash! New strength,born of anger, surged through him. He lifted his head.     My—my companions? he demanded weakly.     The leader of those who encircled him, a mighty hulk of a man, massiveof shoulder and thigh, black-haired, with an unshaven blue jaw,raven-bright eyes and a jutting, aquiline nose like the beak of a hawk,loosed a satisfied grunt.     Ah! Back to normal, eh, sailor? Damn near time!     Climbing to his feet sent a swift wave of giddiness through Chip—buthe managed it. He fought down the vertigo which threatened to overwhelmhim, and confronted the big man boldly.     What, he stormed, is the meaning of this?     The giant stared at him for a moment, his jaw slack. Then hisraven-bright eyes glittered; he slapped a trunklike thigh and guffawedin boisterous mirth.     Hear that? he roared to his companions. Quite a guy, ain't he?'What's the meanin' o' this?' he asks! Game little fightin' cock, hey?Then he sobered abruptly, and a grim light replaced the amusement inhis eyes. Here was not a man to be trifled with, Chip realized. Histone assumed a biting edge. The meanin' is, my bucko, he answeredmirthlessly, that you've run afoul o' your last reef. Unless you havea sane head on your shoulders, and you're willing to talk fast andstraight!     Talk?     Don't stall. We've already unloaded your bins. We found it. And a nicehaul, too. Thanks for lettin' us know it was on the way. The burly onechuckled coarsely. We'd have took it, anyway, but you helped mattersout by comin' to us.     Johnny Haldane had been right, then. Chip remembered his friend'sominous warning. —if your message was intercepted, you may haveplayed into the hands of— He said slowly, Then you      are     theLorelei's men?     The who? Never mind that, bucko, just talk. That ekalastron—where didit come from?     And it occurred to Warren suddenly that although the big man      did     holdthe whip hand, he was still not in possession of the most importantsecret of all! While the location of the ekalastron mine remained asecret, a deadlock existed.     And if I won't tell—? he countered shrewdly.     Why, then, sailor— The pirate leader's hamlike fists tightened, anda cold light glinted in his eyes—why, then I guess maybe I'll have tobeat it out o' you!  <doc-sep>At the same moment came a plea from the enchantress of space througha second medium. For no reason anyone could explain, the ship's      telaudio     wakened to life; over it came to their ears the actual wordsof the girl:           Help! Oh, help! Can anyone hear me? Help     —     Even though he knew this to be only a ruse, a deliberate, dastardlytrap set for the unwary, Chip Warren's pulse leaped in hot response tothat desperate plea. Even with the warning of Johnny Haldane fresh inhis memory, some gallantry deep within him spurred him to the aid ofthis lovely vision. Here was a woman a man could live for, fight for,      die     for! A woman like no other in the universe.     Then common sense came to his rescue. He wrenched his gaze from thetempting shadow, cried: Kill that wavelength! Tune the lens onanother beam, Syd!     Palmer, bedazzled but obedient, spun the dial of the      perilens     .Despite his vastly improved science Man had never yet succeeded indevising a transparent medium through which to view the void whereinhe soared; the      perilens     was a device which translated impinginglight-waves into a picture of that which lay outside the ship's hull.When or where electrical disturbances existed in space, its frequencycould be changed for greater clarity. This was what Syd now attempted.     But to no avail! For it mattered not which cycle he tuned to—theimage persisted. Still on the viewscreen that pleading figurebeckoned piteously. And still the cabin rang to the prayers of thatheart-tugging voice:           Help! Oh, help! Can anyone hear me? Help     —     Gone, now, was any fascination that thrilling vision might previouslyhave held for Chip Warren. Understanding of their plight dawned coldlyupon him, and his brow became dark with anger.           We're blanketed!     Flying blind! Salvation, radio a general alarm!Syd, jazz the hypos to max. Shift trajectory to fourteen-oh-three Northand loft ... fire No. 3 jet....     He had hurled himself into the bucket-shaped pilot's seat; nowhis fingers played the controls like those of a mad organist. The      Chickadee     groaned from prow to stern, trembled like a tortured thingas he thrust it into a rising spiral.     It was a desperate chance he was taking. Increasing his speed thus, itwas certain he would be spotted by the man he had been following; theflaming jets of the      Chickadee     must form a crimson arch against blackspace visible for hundreds—thousands!—of miles. Nor was there any wayof knowing what lay in the path Chip thus blindly chose. Titanic deathmight loom on every side. But they had to fight clear of this spot ofblindness, clear their instruments....     And then it came! A jarring concussion that smashed against the prowof the      Chickadee     like a battering ram. Chip flew headlong out of hisbucket to spreadeagle on the heaving iron floor. He heard, above thegrinding plaint of shattered steel the bellowing prayer of SalvationSmith:     We've crashed! 'Into Thy hands, O Lord of old—'     Then Syd's angry cry, Crashed, hell! He's smashed us with atractor-blast!     Chip stared at his companion numbly.     But—but that's impossible! We're plated with ek! A tractor-cannoncouldn't hurt us—           Half-plated!      howled Syd savagely. And those damn fools startedworking from the stern of the      Chickadee     ! We're vulnerable up front,and that's where he got us! In a minute this can will be leaking like asieve. I'll get out bulgers. Hold 'er to her course, Chip!     He dove for the lockers wherein were hung the space-suits, tore themhastily from their hangers. Chip again spun the      perilens     vernier. Nogood! No space ... no stars ... just a beautiful phantom crying them tocertain doom. By now he was aware that from a dozen sprung plates airwas seeping, but he fought down despair. While there remained hope, aman had to keep on fighting.     He scrambled back into the bucket-seat, experimented with controls thatanswered sluggishly. Salvation had sprung to the rotor-gun, was nowangrily jerking its lanyard, lacing the void with death-dealing burststhat had no mark. The old man's eyes were brands of fire, his whitehair clung wetly to his forehead. His rage was terrible to behold.     'Yes, truly shall I destroy them!' he cried, 'who loose theirstealth upon me like a thief from the night—'     Then suddenly there came a second and more frightful blow. Thestraining      Chickadee     stopped as though pole-axed by a gigantic fist.Stopped and shuddered and screamed in metal agony. This time inertiaflung Chip headlong, helpless, into the control racks. Brazen studstook the impact of his body; crushing pain banded about his temples,and a red wetness ran into his eyes, blurring and blinding him, burning.     For an instant there flamed before him a universe of incandescentstars, weaving, shimmering, merging. The vision of a woman whose hairwas a golden glory....     After that—nothing!  <doc-sep>   THE LORELEI DEATH     by NELSON S. BOND     Far out in limitless Space she plied     her deadly trade ... a Lorelei of the     void, beckoning spacemen to death and     destruction with her beautiful siren lure.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Winter 1941.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Chip Warren stood before an oblong of glass set into one wall ofthe spaceship      Chickadee II     , stared at what he saw reflectedtherefrom—and frowned. He didn't like it. Not a bit! It was too—too—     He turned away angrily, ripped the offending article from about hisneck, and chose another necktie from the rack. This one was brighter,gaudier, much more in keeping with the gaiety of his mood. He emitted agrunt of satisfaction, spun from the mirror to face his two companionstriumphantly.     There! How do you like      that     ?     Syd Palmer, short and chubby, tow-headed and liquid-blue of eye, alwayslanguid save when engaged in the solution of some engineering problemconcerned with the space vessel he mothered like a brooding hen, moanedinsultingly and forced a shudder.     Sunspots! Novae! Flying comets! And he wears 'em around his neck!     You, Chip told him serenely, have no appreciation of beauty. What do      you     think of it, Padre?     Salvation Smith, a tall, gangling scarecrow garbed in rusty black,a lean-jawed, hawkeyed man with tumbled locks of silver framing hisweathered cheeks like a halo, concealed his grin poorly. Well,my boy, he admitted, there is      some     Biblical precedent foryour—ahem!—clamorous raiment. 'So Joseph made for himself a coatwhich was of many colors—'     Both of you, declared Chip, give me a pain in the pants!Stick-in-the-muds! Here we are in port for the first time in months,cargo-bins loaded to the gunwales with enough ekalastron to make usrich for life—and you sit here like a pair of stuffed owls!     Well, not me! I'm going to take a night off, throw myself a party thelikes of which was never seen around these parts. Put a candle in thewindow, chilluns, 'cause li'l' Chip won't be home till the wee, sma'hours!     Syd chuckled.     O.Q., big shot. But don't get too cozy with any of those joy-jointentertainers. Remember what happened to poor old Dougal MacNeer!     Salvation said soberly, Syd's just fooling, my boy. But I      would     becareful if I were you. We're in the Belt, you know. The forces of lawand order do not always govern these wild outposts of civilization aswell as might be hoped. The planetoids are dens of iniquity, violentand unheeding the words of Him who rules all—     The old man's lips etched a straight line, reminding Chip thatSalvation Smith was not one of those milk-and-water missionaries whoespoused the principle of turning the other cheek to evildoers.Salvation was not the ordained emissary of any church. A devoutlyreligious man with the heart of an adventurer, he had taken uponhimself the mission of carrying to outland tribes the story of the Godhe worshipped.     That his God was the fierce Yahveh of the Old Testament, a God ofanger and retribution, was made evident by the methods Salvationsometimes employed in winning his converts. For not only was Salvationacknowledged the most pious man in space; he was also conceded to bethe best hand with a gun!     Now Chip gave quiet answer. I know, Padre: I'll be careful. Well,Syd—sure you won't change your mind and come along?     No can do, chum. The spaceport repair crew's still smearing thisjalopy with ek. Got to stay and watch 'em.     O.Q. I'm off alone, then. See you later!     And, whistling, Chip Warren stepped through the lock of the      Chickadee     onto the soil of the asteroid Danae.  <doc-sep>It was only two stories down the moving ramp to Lorelei Cooper'slaboratory. Peter took it in fifteen seconds, running, and stumbled toa halt in front of the door marked Radiation. She had set her doormechanism to Etaoin Shrdlu, principally because he hated double-talk.He mouthed the syllables, had to repeat them because he put an accentin the wrong place, and squeezed through the door as soon as it openedfar enough to admit him.     Lorelei, beautiful in spite of dark-circled eyes and a smear of greaseon her chin, looked up from a huge ledger at the end of the room. Oneblonde eyebrow arched in the quizzical expression he knew so well.     What makes, Peter my love? she asked, and bent back to the ledger.Then she did a double-take, looked at his face intently, and said,Darling, what's wrong?     He said, Have you seen the news recently?     She frowned. Why, no—Harry and I have been working for thirty-sixhours straight. Haven't seen anybody, haven't heard anything. Why?     You wouldn't believe me. Where's your newsbox?     She came around the desk and put her hands on his shoulders. Pete,you know I haven't one—it bores me or upsets me, depending on whetherthere's trouble or not. What—     I'm sorry, I forgot, he said. But you have a scanner?     Yes, of course. But really, Pete—     You'll understand in a minute. Turn it on, Lorelei.     She gazed at him levelly for a moment, kissed him impulsively, and thenwalked over to the video panel on the wall and swept a mountain ofpapers away from in front of it. She turned the selector dial to Newsand pressed the stud.     A faint wash of color appeared on the panel, strengthened slowly, andsuddenly leapt into full brilliance.     Lorelei caught her breath.     It was a street scene in the Science City of Manhattan, flooded bythe warm spring sunshine. Down on the lowest level, visible past thetransport and passenger tubes, the parks and moving ways should havebeen dotted with colorful, holiday crowds. The people were there,yes but they were flowing away in a swiftly-widening circle. Theydisappeared into buildings, and the ways snatched them up, and in aheartbeat they were gone.     There were left only two blood-red, malignant monstrosities somehowdefiling the air they floated in; and below them, a pitiful huddle offlesh no longer recognizable as human beings. They were not dead, thosemen and women, but they wanted to be. Their bodies had been impossiblyjoined, fused together into a single obscene, floundering mass ofhelpless protoplasm. The thin moaning that went up from them was morehorrible than any cry of agony.     The Invaders are here, citizens, the commentator was saying in astrangled voice. Stay off the streets. Hide yourselves. Stay off thestreets.... His voice droned on, but neither of them heard it.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the story of Johnny Haldane in THE LORELEI DEATH?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What does the term ekalastron or No. 97 refer to in THE LORELEI DEATH? [SEP] <s>Shock momentarily immobilized Chip. Not so the bartender. He was, itseemed, an ardent pacifist. With a bleat of panic fear he scamperedfrom his post, his metallic stilts clattering off in the distance.Chip's accuser moved forward from the shadows; dim light illumined hisfeatures. And—           Johnny!      Chip's voice lifted in a note of jubilant surprise.Johnny Haldane—you old scoundrel! Where in the void did      you     dropfrom?     The S.S.P. man chuckled and returned Chip's greeting with abone-grinding handclasp.     I might ask the same of you, chum! Lord, it's been ages since we'vecrossed 'jectory! When I saw you meandering across the Casino, youcould have knocked me down with a jetblast! What's new? Is old Sydstill with you?     We're still shipmates. But he's back at the spaceport. The jerry-crewis plating our crate with ek, and—     Ek! Plating a private cruiser! Haldane stared at him in astonishment,then whistled. Sweet Sacred Stars, you must be filthy with credits tobe able to coat an entire ship with ekalastron!     You, boasted Chip, ain't heard nothing yet! And he told him howthey had discovered an entire mountain of the previous new element, No.97 in the periodic table, on frigid Titania, satellite of far Uranus.It was touch-and-go for a while, he admitted, whether we'd be theluckiest three guys in space—or the deadest! But we passed through theflaming caverns like old Shadrach in the Bible—remember?—and here weare!  [1]     Haldane was exuberant. A mountain of ekalastron! he gloated.That's the greatest contribution to spaceflight since Biggs'velocity-intensifier! It was no overstatement. Element No. 97 was ametal so light that a man could carry in one hand enough to coat theentire hull of a battleship—yet so adamant that a gossamer film ofit would deflect a meteor! A metal strong enough to crush diamonds toash—but so resilient that, when properly treated, it would reboundlike rubber! What are you going to do with it, Chip? Put it on theopen market?     Warren shook his head.     Not exactly. We talked it over carefully—Syd and Salvation and I—andwe decided there are some space-rats to whom it shouldn't be madeavailable. Privateers and outlaws, you know. So we turned control ofthe mines over to the Space Patrol at Uranus, and visiphoned the Earthauthorities we were bringing in one cargo—     Visiphoned! interrupted Haldane sharply. Did you say visiphoned?     Why—why, yes.     From where?     Oh, just before we reached the Belt. We don't have a very strongtransmitter, you know. Sa-a-ay, what's all the excitement, pal? Did wedo something that was wrong?     Haldane frowned worriedly. I don't know, Chip. It wasn't anything      wrong     , but what you did was damned dangerous. For if your message wasintercepted, you may have played into the very hands of—the Lorelei!  <doc-sep>Chip stared at his friend bewilderedly for a moment. Then he grinned.Hey—I must be getting slightly whacky in my old age. I stand herewith an unopened bottle in my hands and hear things! For a minute Ithought you said 'Lorelei.' The Lorelei, my space-cop friend, is amyth. An old Teutonic myth about a beautiful damsel who sits out inthe middle of a sea on a treacherous rock, combing her golden locks,warbling and luring her fascinated admirers to destruction.     He grunted. A dirty trick, if you ask me. Catch a snort of thisalleged Scotch, pal, and I'll torture your eardrums with the whole, sadstory. He started to sing. '      Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten     —'     The Patrolman laid a hand on his arm, silenced him.     It's not funny, Chip. You've described the Lorelei exactly. That'show she got her name. An incredibly beautiful woman who wantonly luresspace-mariners to their death.     The only difference is that her 'rock' is an asteroid somewhere inthe Belt—and she does not sing, she calls! She began exercisingher vicious appeal about two months ago, Earth reckoning. Sincethen, no less than a dozen spacecraft—freighters, liners, even onePatrolship—have fallen prey to her wiles. Their crews have beenbrutally murdered, their cargos stolen.     Wait a minute! interrupted Chip shrewdly. How do you know about herif the crews have been murdered?     She has a habit of locking the controls, explained Haldane, andsetting ravaged ships adrift. Apparently there is no room on herhideout—wherever it is—for empty hulks. One of these ships wassalvaged by a courageous cabin-boy who hid from the Lorelei and herpirate band beneath a closetful of soiled linens in the laundry. Hedescribed her. His description goes perfectly with less accurateglimpses seen over the visiphones of several score spacecraft!     Chip said soberly, So it's no joke, eh, pal? Sorry I popped off. Ithought you were pulling my leg. Where do      I     come into this mess,though?     Ekalastron! grunted Johnny succinctly. A jackpot prize for anycorsair! And you      advertised     a cargo of it over the etherwaves! TheLorelei will be waiting for you with her tongue hanging out. The onlything for you to do, kid, is go back to Jupiter or Io as fast as youcan get there. Make the Patrol give you a convoy—     A sudden light danced in Chip Warren's eyes. It was a light Syd Palmerwould have groaned to see—for it usually presaged trouble. It was abright, hard, reckless light.     Hold your jets, Johnny! drawled Chip. Aren't you forgetting onething? In a couple more hours, I can face the Lorelei and her wholemob—and be damned to them! She can't touch the      Chickadee     , becauseit's being plated right now!     Haldane snapped his fingers in quick remembrance.     By thunder, you're right! Her shells will ricochet off the      Chickadee's     hull like hail off a tin roof. Chip, are you in any hurryto reach Earth? I thought not. What do you say we go after the Lorelei      together     ! I'll swear you in as a Deputy Patrolman; we'll take the      Chickadee     and—     It's a deal! declared Chip promptly. You got any idea where thisLorelei's hangout is?     That's why I'm here on Danae. I got a tip that one of the Lorelei'smen put in here for supplies. I hoped maybe I could single himout somehow, follow him when he jetted for his base, and in thatway—      Chip! Look out!       <doc-sep>   THE LORELEI DEATH     by NELSON S. BOND     Far out in limitless Space she plied     her deadly trade ... a Lorelei of the     void, beckoning spacemen to death and     destruction with her beautiful siren lure.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Winter 1941.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Chip Warren stood before an oblong of glass set into one wall ofthe spaceship      Chickadee II     , stared at what he saw reflectedtherefrom—and frowned. He didn't like it. Not a bit! It was too—too—     He turned away angrily, ripped the offending article from about hisneck, and chose another necktie from the rack. This one was brighter,gaudier, much more in keeping with the gaiety of his mood. He emitted agrunt of satisfaction, spun from the mirror to face his two companionstriumphantly.     There! How do you like      that     ?     Syd Palmer, short and chubby, tow-headed and liquid-blue of eye, alwayslanguid save when engaged in the solution of some engineering problemconcerned with the space vessel he mothered like a brooding hen, moanedinsultingly and forced a shudder.     Sunspots! Novae! Flying comets! And he wears 'em around his neck!     You, Chip told him serenely, have no appreciation of beauty. What do      you     think of it, Padre?     Salvation Smith, a tall, gangling scarecrow garbed in rusty black,a lean-jawed, hawkeyed man with tumbled locks of silver framing hisweathered cheeks like a halo, concealed his grin poorly. Well,my boy, he admitted, there is      some     Biblical precedent foryour—ahem!—clamorous raiment. 'So Joseph made for himself a coatwhich was of many colors—'     Both of you, declared Chip, give me a pain in the pants!Stick-in-the-muds! Here we are in port for the first time in months,cargo-bins loaded to the gunwales with enough ekalastron to make usrich for life—and you sit here like a pair of stuffed owls!     Well, not me! I'm going to take a night off, throw myself a party thelikes of which was never seen around these parts. Put a candle in thewindow, chilluns, 'cause li'l' Chip won't be home till the wee, sma'hours!     Syd chuckled.     O.Q., big shot. But don't get too cozy with any of those joy-jointentertainers. Remember what happened to poor old Dougal MacNeer!     Salvation said soberly, Syd's just fooling, my boy. But I      would     becareful if I were you. We're in the Belt, you know. The forces of lawand order do not always govern these wild outposts of civilization aswell as might be hoped. The planetoids are dens of iniquity, violentand unheeding the words of Him who rules all—     The old man's lips etched a straight line, reminding Chip thatSalvation Smith was not one of those milk-and-water missionaries whoespoused the principle of turning the other cheek to evildoers.Salvation was not the ordained emissary of any church. A devoutlyreligious man with the heart of an adventurer, he had taken uponhimself the mission of carrying to outland tribes the story of the Godhe worshipped.     That his God was the fierce Yahveh of the Old Testament, a God ofanger and retribution, was made evident by the methods Salvationsometimes employed in winning his converts. For not only was Salvationacknowledged the most pious man in space; he was also conceded to bethe best hand with a gun!     Now Chip gave quiet answer. I know, Padre: I'll be careful. Well,Syd—sure you won't change your mind and come along?     No can do, chum. The spaceport repair crew's still smearing thisjalopy with ek. Got to stay and watch 'em.     O.Q. I'm off alone, then. See you later!     And, whistling, Chip Warren stepped through the lock of the      Chickadee     onto the soil of the asteroid Danae.  <doc-sep>III     From a billion miles away, from a bourne unguessable thousands oflight-years distant, came the faint, far whisper of a voice. Nearer andnearer it came, and ever faster, till it throbbed upon Chip's eardrumswith booming savagery.     —coming to, now. Good! We'll soon find out—     Chip opened his eyes, too dazed, at first, to understand the situationin which he found himself. Gone was the familiar control-turret of the      Chickadee     , gone the bulger into which he had so hastily clambered. Helay on the parched, rocky soil of a—a something. A planetoid, perhaps.And he was surrounded by a motley crew of strangers: scum of all theplanets that circle the Sun....     Then recollection flooded back upon him, sudden and complete. Thechase ... the call of the fateful Lorelei ... the crash! New strength,born of anger, surged through him. He lifted his head.     My—my companions? he demanded weakly.     The leader of those who encircled him, a mighty hulk of a man, massiveof shoulder and thigh, black-haired, with an unshaven blue jaw,raven-bright eyes and a jutting, aquiline nose like the beak of a hawk,loosed a satisfied grunt.     Ah! Back to normal, eh, sailor? Damn near time!     Climbing to his feet sent a swift wave of giddiness through Chip—buthe managed it. He fought down the vertigo which threatened to overwhelmhim, and confronted the big man boldly.     What, he stormed, is the meaning of this?     The giant stared at him for a moment, his jaw slack. Then hisraven-bright eyes glittered; he slapped a trunklike thigh and guffawedin boisterous mirth.     Hear that? he roared to his companions. Quite a guy, ain't he?'What's the meanin' o' this?' he asks! Game little fightin' cock, hey?Then he sobered abruptly, and a grim light replaced the amusement inhis eyes. Here was not a man to be trifled with, Chip realized. Histone assumed a biting edge. The meanin' is, my bucko, he answeredmirthlessly, that you've run afoul o' your last reef. Unless you havea sane head on your shoulders, and you're willing to talk fast andstraight!     Talk?     Don't stall. We've already unloaded your bins. We found it. And a nicehaul, too. Thanks for lettin' us know it was on the way. The burly onechuckled coarsely. We'd have took it, anyway, but you helped mattersout by comin' to us.     Johnny Haldane had been right, then. Chip remembered his friend'sominous warning. —if your message was intercepted, you may haveplayed into the hands of— He said slowly, Then you      are     theLorelei's men?     The who? Never mind that, bucko, just talk. That ekalastron—where didit come from?     And it occurred to Warren suddenly that although the big man      did     holdthe whip hand, he was still not in possession of the most importantsecret of all! While the location of the ekalastron mine remained asecret, a deadlock existed.     And if I won't tell—? he countered shrewdly.     Why, then, sailor— The pirate leader's hamlike fists tightened, anda cold light glinted in his eyes—why, then I guess maybe I'll have tobeat it out o' you!  <doc-sep>Two hours later, Chip was still following the bright pinpoint ofscarlet which marked the course of his quarry.     In the time that had elapsed since their take-off, he had told hisfriends the whole story. When he told about the Lorelei, SalvationSmith's seamy old features screwed up in a perplexed grimace. Awoman pirate in the Belt, son? I find it hard to believe. Yet— Andwhen he described the death of Johnny Haldane, anger smoldered in themissionary's eyes, and Syd Palmer's hands knotted into tight, whitefists. Said Syd, A man with a scar, eh? Well, we'll catch him sooneror later. And when we do— His tone boded no good to the man who hadslain an old and loved friend.     As a matter of fact, offered Salvation, we've got him now. Any timeyou say the word, Chip. We're faster than he is. We can close in on himin five minutes.     I know, nodded Warren grimly. But we won't do it—yet. I'm borrowinga bit of Johnny's strategy. I've been plotting his course. As soon asI'm sure of his destination, we'll take care of      him     . But our firstand most vital problem is to locate the Lorelei's hideaway.     Syd said, That's all right with me, chum. I like a good scrap as muchas the next guy. Better, maybe. But this isn't our concern, strictlyspeaking. What we ought to do is report this matter to the SpacePatrol, let them take care of it.     Salvation shook his head.     That's where you're mistaken, Sydney. This is very much our concern.So much so, in fact, that we dare not make port again until it'scleared up. I think you have forgotten that it is not the scar-facedman who is wanted for the killing of Haldane—but Chip!     B-but— gasped Palmer—b-but that's ridiculous! Chip and Johnny wereold buddies. Lifelong friends!     Nevertheless, the circumstantial evidence indicates Chip's guilt.Twenty men saw him standing over Johnny's dead body, with aflame-pistol in his hand. And the barkeep heard Johnny 'arrest' Chipand accuse him of murder!     Chip said ruefully, That's right, Syd. It was only a joke, but itbackfired. The bartender thought Johnny meant it. He scooted out ofthere like a bat out of Hades. I'm in it up to my neck unless we canbring back evidence that Scarface actually did the killing. And thatmay not be so easy.     He stirred restlessly. But we'll cross that bridge when we come toit. Right now our job is to keep this rat in sight. We've gone fartheralready than I expected we would. He turned to the old preacher.Where do you think we're going, Padre? Out of the Belt entirely?     I've been wondering that myself, son. I don't know for sure, ofcourse, but it looks to me as if we're going for the Bog. If so, you'dbetter keep a weather-eye peeled.     The Bog! Chip had never penetrated the planetoids so deeply before,but he knew of the Bog by hearsay. All men did. A treacherous region oftightly packed asteroids, a mad and whirling scramble of the giganticrocks which, aeons ago, had been a planet. Few spacemen dared penetratethe Bog. Of those who did dare, few returned to tell the tale. TheBog! Say! I'd      better     keep a sharp lookout!     He turned to the      perilens     once more, fastened an eye to its lens. Andthen—     Syd! he cried. Salvation! Look! She—she—!     He pressed the plunger that transferred the      perilens     image to thecentral viewscreen. And as he did so, a phantom filled the area whichshould have revealed yawning space, gay with the spangles of a myriadglowing orbs. The vision of an unbelievably beautiful girl, thegolden-crowned embodiment of a man's fondest dreaming, eyes wide withan indistinguishable emotion, arms stretched wide in mute appeal.     And from the throats of all came simultaneous recognition.           The Lorelei!       <doc-sep>It was only two stories down the moving ramp to Lorelei Cooper'slaboratory. Peter took it in fifteen seconds, running, and stumbled toa halt in front of the door marked Radiation. She had set her doormechanism to Etaoin Shrdlu, principally because he hated double-talk.He mouthed the syllables, had to repeat them because he put an accentin the wrong place, and squeezed through the door as soon as it openedfar enough to admit him.     Lorelei, beautiful in spite of dark-circled eyes and a smear of greaseon her chin, looked up from a huge ledger at the end of the room. Oneblonde eyebrow arched in the quizzical expression he knew so well.     What makes, Peter my love? she asked, and bent back to the ledger.Then she did a double-take, looked at his face intently, and said,Darling, what's wrong?     He said, Have you seen the news recently?     She frowned. Why, no—Harry and I have been working for thirty-sixhours straight. Haven't seen anybody, haven't heard anything. Why?     You wouldn't believe me. Where's your newsbox?     She came around the desk and put her hands on his shoulders. Pete,you know I haven't one—it bores me or upsets me, depending on whetherthere's trouble or not. What—     I'm sorry, I forgot, he said. But you have a scanner?     Yes, of course. But really, Pete—     You'll understand in a minute. Turn it on, Lorelei.     She gazed at him levelly for a moment, kissed him impulsively, and thenwalked over to the video panel on the wall and swept a mountain ofpapers away from in front of it. She turned the selector dial to Newsand pressed the stud.     A faint wash of color appeared on the panel, strengthened slowly, andsuddenly leapt into full brilliance.     Lorelei caught her breath.     It was a street scene in the Science City of Manhattan, flooded bythe warm spring sunshine. Down on the lowest level, visible past thetransport and passenger tubes, the parks and moving ways should havebeen dotted with colorful, holiday crowds. The people were there,yes but they were flowing away in a swiftly-widening circle. Theydisappeared into buildings, and the ways snatched them up, and in aheartbeat they were gone.     There were left only two blood-red, malignant monstrosities somehowdefiling the air they floated in; and below them, a pitiful huddle offlesh no longer recognizable as human beings. They were not dead, thosemen and women, but they wanted to be. Their bodies had been impossiblyjoined, fused together into a single obscene, floundering mass ofhelpless protoplasm. The thin moaning that went up from them was morehorrible than any cry of agony.     The Invaders are here, citizens, the commentator was saying in astrangled voice. Stay off the streets. Hide yourselves. Stay off thestreets.... His voice droned on, but neither of them heard it.  <doc-sep>Wichita, Kansas     June 13     Dear Joe:     Mnghjkl, fhfjgfhjklop phelnoprausynks. No. When I communicate with you,I see I must avoid those complexities of procedure for which there areno terms in this language. There is no way of describing to you innot-language what I had to go through during the first moments of mybirth.     Now I know what difficulties you must have had with your limitedequipment. These not-people are unpredictable and strange. Their doctorcame in and weighed me again the day after my birth. Consternationreigned when it was discovered I was ten pounds heavier. Whatdifference could it possibly make? Many doctors then came in to see me.As they arrived hourly, they found me heavier and heavier. Naturally,since I am growing. This is part of my instructions. My not-mother(Gezsltrysk!) then burst into tears. The doctors conferred, threw uptheir hands and left.     I learned the following day that the opposite component of mynot-mother, my not-father, had been away riding on some conveyanceduring my birth. He was out on ... what did they call it? Oh, yes, abender. He did not arrive till three days after I was born.     When I heard them say that he was straightening up to come see me, Imade a special effort and grew marvelously in one afternoon. I was 36not-world inches tall by evening. My not-father entered while I wasstanding by the crib examining a syringe the doctor had left behind.He stopped in his tracks on entering the room and seemed incapable ofspeech.     Dredging into the treasury of knowledge I had come equipped with, Iproduced the proper phrase for occasions of this kind in the not-world.     Poppa, I said.     This was the first use I had made of the so-called vocal cords thatare now part of my extended matrix. The sound I emitted soundedlow-pitched, guttural and penetrating even to myself. It must havejarred on my not-father's ears, for he turned and ran shouting from theroom.     They apprehended him on the stairs and I heard him babble somethingabout my being a monster and no child of his. My not-mother appeared atthe doorway and instead of being pleased at the progress of my growth,she fell down heavily. She made a distinct      thump     on the floor.     This brought the rest of them on the run, so I climbed out the windowand retreated across a nearby field. A prolonged search was launched,but I eluded them. What unpredictable beings!     I reported my tremendous progress back to our world, including thecleverness by which I managed to escape my pursuers. I received a replyfrom Blgftury which, on careful analysis, seems to be small praiseindeed. In fact, some of his phrases apparently contain veiled threats.But you know old Blgftury. He wanted to go on this expedition himselfand it's his nature never to flatter anyone.     From now on I will refer to not-people simply as people, dropping thequalifying preface except where comparisons must be made between thisalleged world and our own. It is merely an offshoot of our primitivemythology when this was considered a spirit world, just as these peoplerefer to our world as never-never land and other anomalies. But welearned otherwise, while they never have.     New sensations crowd into my consciousness and I am having a hardtime classifying them. Anyway, I shall carry on swiftly now to theinevitable climax in which I singlehanded will obliterate the terror ofthe not-world and return to our world a hero. I cannot understand yournot replying to my letters. I have given you a box number. What couldhave happened to your vibrations?     Glmpauszn  <doc-sep>Somebody said, Doctor!     He wanted to say, Yes, get a doctor. Lorelei— but his mouth onlytwitched feebly. He couldn't seem to get it to work properly.     He tried again. Doctor.     Yes? A gentle, masculine voice.     He opened his eyes with an effort. There was a blurred face before him;in a moment it grew clearer. The strong, clean-shaven chin contrastedoddly with the haggard circles under the eyes. There was a clean,starched odor.     Where am I? he said. He tried to turn his head, but a firm handpressed him back into the sheets.     You're in a hospital. Just lie quietly, please.     He tried to get up again. Where's Lorelei?     She's well, and you'll see her soon. Now lie quietly. You've been avery sick man.     Peter sank back in the bed. The room was coming into focus. He lookedaround him slowly. He felt very weak, but perfectly lucid.     Yes.... he said. How long have I been here, Doctor?     The man hesitated, looked at him intently. Three months, he said. Heturned and gave low-voiced instructions to a nurse, and then went away.     Peter's head began spinning just a little. Glass clinked from a metalstand near his head; the nurse bent over him with a glass half full ofmilky fluid. It tasted awful, but she made him drink it all.     In a moment he began to relax, and the room got fuzzy again. Justbefore he drifted off, he said sleepily, You can't—fool me. It's been      more     —than three—months.     He was right. All the nurses, and even Dr. Arnold, were evasive, but hekept asking them why he couldn't see Lorelei, and finally he wormed itout of them. It had been nine and a half months, not three, and he'dbeen in a coma all that time. Lorelei, it seemed, had recovered muchsooner.     She was only suffering from ordinary shock, Arnold explained.Seeing that assistant of hers—it was enough to knock anybody out,especially a woman. But you stood actual mental contact with      them     for approximately five minutes. Yes, we know—you talked a lot. It's amiracle you're alive, and rational.     But where is she? Peter complained. You still haven't explained whyI haven't been able to see her.     Arnold frowned. All right, he said. I guess you're strong enough totake it. She's underground, with the rest of the women and children,and a good two-thirds of the male population. That's where you'll go,as soon as you're well enough to be moved. We started digging in sixmonths ago.     But why? Peter whispered.     Arnold's strong jaw knotted. We're hiding, he said. Everything elsehas failed.     Peter couldn't think of anything to say. Dr. Arnold's voice went onafter a moment, musingly. We're burrowing into the earth, like worms.It didn't take us long to find out we couldn't kill them. They didn'teven take any notice of our attempts to do so, except once. That waswhen a squadron of the Police caught about fifty of them together atone time, and attacked with flame guns and a new secret weapon. Itdidn't hurt them, but it annoyed them. It was the first time they'dbeen annoyed, I think. They blew up half a state, and it's stillsmoldering.     And since then? Peter asked huskily.     Since then, we've been burrowing. All the big cities.... It would bean impossible task if we tried to include all the thinly-populatedareas, of course, but it doesn't matter. By the time we excavateenough to take care of a quarter of the earth's population, the otherthree-quarters will be dead, or worse.     I wonder, Peter said shakily, if I am strong enough to take it.     Arnold laughed harshly. You are. You've got to be. You're part of ourlast hope, you see.     Our last hope?     Yes. You're a scientist.     I see, said Peter. And for the first time, he thought of the      Citadel     . No plan leaped full-born into his mind, but,      maybe     , hethought,      there's a chance     ....  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What does the term ekalastron or No. 97 refer to in THE LORELEI DEATH?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What role does Salvation Smith play in THE LORELEI DEATH? [SEP] <s>   THE LORELEI DEATH     by NELSON S. BOND     Far out in limitless Space she plied     her deadly trade ... a Lorelei of the     void, beckoning spacemen to death and     destruction with her beautiful siren lure.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Winter 1941.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Chip Warren stood before an oblong of glass set into one wall ofthe spaceship      Chickadee II     , stared at what he saw reflectedtherefrom—and frowned. He didn't like it. Not a bit! It was too—too—     He turned away angrily, ripped the offending article from about hisneck, and chose another necktie from the rack. This one was brighter,gaudier, much more in keeping with the gaiety of his mood. He emitted agrunt of satisfaction, spun from the mirror to face his two companionstriumphantly.     There! How do you like      that     ?     Syd Palmer, short and chubby, tow-headed and liquid-blue of eye, alwayslanguid save when engaged in the solution of some engineering problemconcerned with the space vessel he mothered like a brooding hen, moanedinsultingly and forced a shudder.     Sunspots! Novae! Flying comets! And he wears 'em around his neck!     You, Chip told him serenely, have no appreciation of beauty. What do      you     think of it, Padre?     Salvation Smith, a tall, gangling scarecrow garbed in rusty black,a lean-jawed, hawkeyed man with tumbled locks of silver framing hisweathered cheeks like a halo, concealed his grin poorly. Well,my boy, he admitted, there is      some     Biblical precedent foryour—ahem!—clamorous raiment. 'So Joseph made for himself a coatwhich was of many colors—'     Both of you, declared Chip, give me a pain in the pants!Stick-in-the-muds! Here we are in port for the first time in months,cargo-bins loaded to the gunwales with enough ekalastron to make usrich for life—and you sit here like a pair of stuffed owls!     Well, not me! I'm going to take a night off, throw myself a party thelikes of which was never seen around these parts. Put a candle in thewindow, chilluns, 'cause li'l' Chip won't be home till the wee, sma'hours!     Syd chuckled.     O.Q., big shot. But don't get too cozy with any of those joy-jointentertainers. Remember what happened to poor old Dougal MacNeer!     Salvation said soberly, Syd's just fooling, my boy. But I      would     becareful if I were you. We're in the Belt, you know. The forces of lawand order do not always govern these wild outposts of civilization aswell as might be hoped. The planetoids are dens of iniquity, violentand unheeding the words of Him who rules all—     The old man's lips etched a straight line, reminding Chip thatSalvation Smith was not one of those milk-and-water missionaries whoespoused the principle of turning the other cheek to evildoers.Salvation was not the ordained emissary of any church. A devoutlyreligious man with the heart of an adventurer, he had taken uponhimself the mission of carrying to outland tribes the story of the Godhe worshipped.     That his God was the fierce Yahveh of the Old Testament, a God ofanger and retribution, was made evident by the methods Salvationsometimes employed in winning his converts. For not only was Salvationacknowledged the most pious man in space; he was also conceded to bethe best hand with a gun!     Now Chip gave quiet answer. I know, Padre: I'll be careful. Well,Syd—sure you won't change your mind and come along?     No can do, chum. The spaceport repair crew's still smearing thisjalopy with ek. Got to stay and watch 'em.     O.Q. I'm off alone, then. See you later!     And, whistling, Chip Warren stepped through the lock of the      Chickadee     onto the soil of the asteroid Danae.  <doc-sep>Two hours later, Chip was still following the bright pinpoint ofscarlet which marked the course of his quarry.     In the time that had elapsed since their take-off, he had told hisfriends the whole story. When he told about the Lorelei, SalvationSmith's seamy old features screwed up in a perplexed grimace. Awoman pirate in the Belt, son? I find it hard to believe. Yet— Andwhen he described the death of Johnny Haldane, anger smoldered in themissionary's eyes, and Syd Palmer's hands knotted into tight, whitefists. Said Syd, A man with a scar, eh? Well, we'll catch him sooneror later. And when we do— His tone boded no good to the man who hadslain an old and loved friend.     As a matter of fact, offered Salvation, we've got him now. Any timeyou say the word, Chip. We're faster than he is. We can close in on himin five minutes.     I know, nodded Warren grimly. But we won't do it—yet. I'm borrowinga bit of Johnny's strategy. I've been plotting his course. As soon asI'm sure of his destination, we'll take care of      him     . But our firstand most vital problem is to locate the Lorelei's hideaway.     Syd said, That's all right with me, chum. I like a good scrap as muchas the next guy. Better, maybe. But this isn't our concern, strictlyspeaking. What we ought to do is report this matter to the SpacePatrol, let them take care of it.     Salvation shook his head.     That's where you're mistaken, Sydney. This is very much our concern.So much so, in fact, that we dare not make port again until it'scleared up. I think you have forgotten that it is not the scar-facedman who is wanted for the killing of Haldane—but Chip!     B-but— gasped Palmer—b-but that's ridiculous! Chip and Johnny wereold buddies. Lifelong friends!     Nevertheless, the circumstantial evidence indicates Chip's guilt.Twenty men saw him standing over Johnny's dead body, with aflame-pistol in his hand. And the barkeep heard Johnny 'arrest' Chipand accuse him of murder!     Chip said ruefully, That's right, Syd. It was only a joke, but itbackfired. The bartender thought Johnny meant it. He scooted out ofthere like a bat out of Hades. I'm in it up to my neck unless we canbring back evidence that Scarface actually did the killing. And thatmay not be so easy.     He stirred restlessly. But we'll cross that bridge when we come toit. Right now our job is to keep this rat in sight. We've gone fartheralready than I expected we would. He turned to the old preacher.Where do you think we're going, Padre? Out of the Belt entirely?     I've been wondering that myself, son. I don't know for sure, ofcourse, but it looks to me as if we're going for the Bog. If so, you'dbetter keep a weather-eye peeled.     The Bog! Chip had never penetrated the planetoids so deeply before,but he knew of the Bog by hearsay. All men did. A treacherous region oftightly packed asteroids, a mad and whirling scramble of the giganticrocks which, aeons ago, had been a planet. Few spacemen dared penetratethe Bog. Of those who did dare, few returned to tell the tale. TheBog! Say! I'd      better     keep a sharp lookout!     He turned to the      perilens     once more, fastened an eye to its lens. Andthen—     Syd! he cried. Salvation! Look! She—she—!     He pressed the plunger that transferred the      perilens     image to thecentral viewscreen. And as he did so, a phantom filled the area whichshould have revealed yawning space, gay with the spangles of a myriadglowing orbs. The vision of an unbelievably beautiful girl, thegolden-crowned embodiment of a man's fondest dreaming, eyes wide withan indistinguishable emotion, arms stretched wide in mute appeal.     And from the throats of all came simultaneous recognition.           The Lorelei!       <doc-sep>At the same moment came a plea from the enchantress of space througha second medium. For no reason anyone could explain, the ship's      telaudio     wakened to life; over it came to their ears the actual wordsof the girl:           Help! Oh, help! Can anyone hear me? Help     —     Even though he knew this to be only a ruse, a deliberate, dastardlytrap set for the unwary, Chip Warren's pulse leaped in hot response tothat desperate plea. Even with the warning of Johnny Haldane fresh inhis memory, some gallantry deep within him spurred him to the aid ofthis lovely vision. Here was a woman a man could live for, fight for,      die     for! A woman like no other in the universe.     Then common sense came to his rescue. He wrenched his gaze from thetempting shadow, cried: Kill that wavelength! Tune the lens onanother beam, Syd!     Palmer, bedazzled but obedient, spun the dial of the      perilens     .Despite his vastly improved science Man had never yet succeeded indevising a transparent medium through which to view the void whereinhe soared; the      perilens     was a device which translated impinginglight-waves into a picture of that which lay outside the ship's hull.When or where electrical disturbances existed in space, its frequencycould be changed for greater clarity. This was what Syd now attempted.     But to no avail! For it mattered not which cycle he tuned to—theimage persisted. Still on the viewscreen that pleading figurebeckoned piteously. And still the cabin rang to the prayers of thatheart-tugging voice:           Help! Oh, help! Can anyone hear me? Help     —     Gone, now, was any fascination that thrilling vision might previouslyhave held for Chip Warren. Understanding of their plight dawned coldlyupon him, and his brow became dark with anger.           We're blanketed!     Flying blind! Salvation, radio a general alarm!Syd, jazz the hypos to max. Shift trajectory to fourteen-oh-three Northand loft ... fire No. 3 jet....     He had hurled himself into the bucket-shaped pilot's seat; nowhis fingers played the controls like those of a mad organist. The      Chickadee     groaned from prow to stern, trembled like a tortured thingas he thrust it into a rising spiral.     It was a desperate chance he was taking. Increasing his speed thus, itwas certain he would be spotted by the man he had been following; theflaming jets of the      Chickadee     must form a crimson arch against blackspace visible for hundreds—thousands!—of miles. Nor was there any wayof knowing what lay in the path Chip thus blindly chose. Titanic deathmight loom on every side. But they had to fight clear of this spot ofblindness, clear their instruments....     And then it came! A jarring concussion that smashed against the prowof the      Chickadee     like a battering ram. Chip flew headlong out of hisbucket to spreadeagle on the heaving iron floor. He heard, above thegrinding plaint of shattered steel the bellowing prayer of SalvationSmith:     We've crashed! 'Into Thy hands, O Lord of old—'     Then Syd's angry cry, Crashed, hell! He's smashed us with atractor-blast!     Chip stared at his companion numbly.     But—but that's impossible! We're plated with ek! A tractor-cannoncouldn't hurt us—           Half-plated!      howled Syd savagely. And those damn fools startedworking from the stern of the      Chickadee     ! We're vulnerable up front,and that's where he got us! In a minute this can will be leaking like asieve. I'll get out bulgers. Hold 'er to her course, Chip!     He dove for the lockers wherein were hung the space-suits, tore themhastily from their hangers. Chip again spun the      perilens     vernier. Nogood! No space ... no stars ... just a beautiful phantom crying them tocertain doom. By now he was aware that from a dozen sprung plates airwas seeping, but he fought down despair. While there remained hope, aman had to keep on fighting.     He scrambled back into the bucket-seat, experimented with controls thatanswered sluggishly. Salvation had sprung to the rotor-gun, was nowangrily jerking its lanyard, lacing the void with death-dealing burststhat had no mark. The old man's eyes were brands of fire, his whitehair clung wetly to his forehead. His rage was terrible to behold.     'Yes, truly shall I destroy them!' he cried, 'who loose theirstealth upon me like a thief from the night—'     Then suddenly there came a second and more frightful blow. Thestraining      Chickadee     stopped as though pole-axed by a gigantic fist.Stopped and shuddered and screamed in metal agony. This time inertiaflung Chip headlong, helpless, into the control racks. Brazen studstook the impact of his body; crushing pain banded about his temples,and a red wetness ran into his eyes, blurring and blinding him, burning.     For an instant there flamed before him a universe of incandescentstars, weaving, shimmering, merging. The vision of a woman whose hairwas a golden glory....     After that—nothing!  <doc-sep>Shock momentarily immobilized Chip. Not so the bartender. He was, itseemed, an ardent pacifist. With a bleat of panic fear he scamperedfrom his post, his metallic stilts clattering off in the distance.Chip's accuser moved forward from the shadows; dim light illumined hisfeatures. And—           Johnny!      Chip's voice lifted in a note of jubilant surprise.Johnny Haldane—you old scoundrel! Where in the void did      you     dropfrom?     The S.S.P. man chuckled and returned Chip's greeting with abone-grinding handclasp.     I might ask the same of you, chum! Lord, it's been ages since we'vecrossed 'jectory! When I saw you meandering across the Casino, youcould have knocked me down with a jetblast! What's new? Is old Sydstill with you?     We're still shipmates. But he's back at the spaceport. The jerry-crewis plating our crate with ek, and—     Ek! Plating a private cruiser! Haldane stared at him in astonishment,then whistled. Sweet Sacred Stars, you must be filthy with credits tobe able to coat an entire ship with ekalastron!     You, boasted Chip, ain't heard nothing yet! And he told him howthey had discovered an entire mountain of the previous new element, No.97 in the periodic table, on frigid Titania, satellite of far Uranus.It was touch-and-go for a while, he admitted, whether we'd be theluckiest three guys in space—or the deadest! But we passed through theflaming caverns like old Shadrach in the Bible—remember?—and here weare!  [1]     Haldane was exuberant. A mountain of ekalastron! he gloated.That's the greatest contribution to spaceflight since Biggs'velocity-intensifier! It was no overstatement. Element No. 97 was ametal so light that a man could carry in one hand enough to coat theentire hull of a battleship—yet so adamant that a gossamer film ofit would deflect a meteor! A metal strong enough to crush diamonds toash—but so resilient that, when properly treated, it would reboundlike rubber! What are you going to do with it, Chip? Put it on theopen market?     Warren shook his head.     Not exactly. We talked it over carefully—Syd and Salvation and I—andwe decided there are some space-rats to whom it shouldn't be madeavailable. Privateers and outlaws, you know. So we turned control ofthe mines over to the Space Patrol at Uranus, and visiphoned the Earthauthorities we were bringing in one cargo—     Visiphoned! interrupted Haldane sharply. Did you say visiphoned?     Why—why, yes.     From where?     Oh, just before we reached the Belt. We don't have a very strongtransmitter, you know. Sa-a-ay, what's all the excitement, pal? Did wedo something that was wrong?     Haldane frowned worriedly. I don't know, Chip. It wasn't anything      wrong     , but what you did was damned dangerous. For if your message wasintercepted, you may have played into the very hands of—the Lorelei!  <doc-sep>Chip stared at his friend bewilderedly for a moment. Then he grinned.Hey—I must be getting slightly whacky in my old age. I stand herewith an unopened bottle in my hands and hear things! For a minute Ithought you said 'Lorelei.' The Lorelei, my space-cop friend, is amyth. An old Teutonic myth about a beautiful damsel who sits out inthe middle of a sea on a treacherous rock, combing her golden locks,warbling and luring her fascinated admirers to destruction.     He grunted. A dirty trick, if you ask me. Catch a snort of thisalleged Scotch, pal, and I'll torture your eardrums with the whole, sadstory. He started to sing. '      Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten     —'     The Patrolman laid a hand on his arm, silenced him.     It's not funny, Chip. You've described the Lorelei exactly. That'show she got her name. An incredibly beautiful woman who wantonly luresspace-mariners to their death.     The only difference is that her 'rock' is an asteroid somewhere inthe Belt—and she does not sing, she calls! She began exercisingher vicious appeal about two months ago, Earth reckoning. Sincethen, no less than a dozen spacecraft—freighters, liners, even onePatrolship—have fallen prey to her wiles. Their crews have beenbrutally murdered, their cargos stolen.     Wait a minute! interrupted Chip shrewdly. How do you know about herif the crews have been murdered?     She has a habit of locking the controls, explained Haldane, andsetting ravaged ships adrift. Apparently there is no room on herhideout—wherever it is—for empty hulks. One of these ships wassalvaged by a courageous cabin-boy who hid from the Lorelei and herpirate band beneath a closetful of soiled linens in the laundry. Hedescribed her. His description goes perfectly with less accurateglimpses seen over the visiphones of several score spacecraft!     Chip said soberly, So it's no joke, eh, pal? Sorry I popped off. Ithought you were pulling my leg. Where do      I     come into this mess,though?     Ekalastron! grunted Johnny succinctly. A jackpot prize for anycorsair! And you      advertised     a cargo of it over the etherwaves! TheLorelei will be waiting for you with her tongue hanging out. The onlything for you to do, kid, is go back to Jupiter or Io as fast as youcan get there. Make the Patrol give you a convoy—     A sudden light danced in Chip Warren's eyes. It was a light Syd Palmerwould have groaned to see—for it usually presaged trouble. It was abright, hard, reckless light.     Hold your jets, Johnny! drawled Chip. Aren't you forgetting onething? In a couple more hours, I can face the Lorelei and her wholemob—and be damned to them! She can't touch the      Chickadee     , becauseit's being plated right now!     Haldane snapped his fingers in quick remembrance.     By thunder, you're right! Her shells will ricochet off the      Chickadee's     hull like hail off a tin roof. Chip, are you in any hurryto reach Earth? I thought not. What do you say we go after the Lorelei      together     ! I'll swear you in as a Deputy Patrolman; we'll take the      Chickadee     and—     It's a deal! declared Chip promptly. You got any idea where thisLorelei's hangout is?     That's why I'm here on Danae. I got a tip that one of the Lorelei'smen put in here for supplies. I hoped maybe I could single himout somehow, follow him when he jetted for his base, and in thatway—      Chip! Look out!       <doc-sep>Most of the cousins gasped as the truth began to percolate through.     I knew from the very beginning, Conrad finished, that I didn'thave to do anything at all. I just had to wait and you would destroyyourselves.     I don't understand, Bartholomew protested, searching the faces of thecousins closest to him. What does he mean, we have never existed?We're here, aren't we? What—     Shut up! Raymond snapped. He turned on Martin. You don't seemsurprised.     The old man grinned. I'm not. I figured it all out years ago.     At first, he had wondered what he should do. Would it be better tothrow them into a futile panic by telling them or to do nothing? Hehad decided on the latter; that was the role they had assigned him—towatch and wait and keep out of things—and that was the role he wouldplay.     You knew all the time and you didn't tell us! Raymond spluttered.After we'd been so good to you, making a gentleman out of you insteadof a criminal.... That's right, he snarled, a criminal! An alcoholic,a thief, a derelict! How do you like that?     Sounds like a rich, full life, Martin said wistfully.     What an exciting existence they must have done him out of! But then, hecouldn't help thinking, he—he and Conrad together, of course—had donethem out of      any     kind of existence. It wasn't his responsibility,though; he had done nothing but let matters take whatever course wasdestined for them. If only he could be sure that it was the bettercourse, perhaps he wouldn't feel that nagging sense of guilt insidehim. Strange—where, in his hermetic life, could he possibly havedeveloped such a queer thing as a conscience?     Then we've wasted all this time, Ninian sobbed, all this energy, allthis money, for nothing!     But you were nothing to begin with, Martin told them. And then,after a pause, he added, I only wish I could be sure there had beensome purpose to this.     He didn't know whether it was approaching death that dimmed his sight,or whether the frightened crowd that pressed around him was growingshadowy.     I wish I could feel that some good had been done in letting you bewiped out of existence, he went on voicing his thoughts. But I knowthat the same thing that happened to your worlds and my world willhappen all over again. To other people, in other times, but again. It'sbound to happen. There isn't any hope for humanity.     One man couldn't really change the course of human history, he toldhimself. Two men, that was—one real, one a shadow.     Conrad came close to the old man's bed. He was almost transparent.     No, he said, there is hope. They didn't know the time transmitterworks two ways. I used it for going into the past only once—just thisonce. But I've gone into the future with it many times. And— hepressed Martin's hand—believe me, what I did—what      we     did, you andI—serves a purpose. It will change things for the better. Everythingis going to be all right.  <doc-sep>We played. Tune after tune.John knew them all, from thelatest pop melodies to a swing versionof the classic      Rhapsody of TheStars     . He was a quiet guy duringthe next couple of hours, and gettingmore than a few words fromhim seemed as hard as extracting atooth. He'd stand by his fiddle—Imean, his      Zloomph     —with a dreamyexpression in those watery eyes,staring at nothing.     But after one number he studiedFat Boy's clarinet for a moment.Nice clarinet, he mused. Has anunusual hole in the front.     Fat Boy scratched the back ofhis head. You—you mean here?Where the music comes out?     John Smith nodded. Unusual.     Hummm, I thought again.     Awhile later I caught him eyeingmy piano keyboard. What'sthe matter, John?     He pointed.     Oh, there, I said. A cigarettefell out of my ashtray, burnt a holein the key. If The Eye sees it, he'llswear at me in seven languages.     Even there, he said softly,even there....     There was no doubt about it.John Smith was peculiar, but hewas the best bass man this side of amusician's Nirvana.     It didn't take a genius to figureout our situation. Item one: Goon-Face'scountenance had evidencedan excellent imitation of Mephistophelesbefore John began to play.Item two: Goon-Face had beamedlike a kitten with a quart of creamafter John began to play.     Conclusion: If we wanted tokeep eating, we'd have to persuadeJohn Smith to join our combo.     At intermission I said, Howabout a drink, John? Maybe a shotof wine-syrup?     He shook his head.     Then maybe a Venusian fizz?     His grunt was negative.     Then some old-fashioned beer?     He smiled. Yes, I      like     beer.     I escorted him to the bar and assistedhim in his arduous climb ontoa stool.     John, I ventured after he'dtaken an experimental sip, wherehave you been hiding? A guy likeyou should be playing every night.     John yawned. Just got here. FiguredI might need some money soI went to the union. Then I workedon my plan.     Then you need a job. Howabout playing with us steady? Welike your style a lot.     He made a long, low hummingsound which I interpreted as anexpression of intense concentration.I don't know, he finally drawled.     It'd be a steady job, John. Inspirationstruck me. And listen, Ihave an apartment. It's got everything,solar shower, automatic chef,'copter landing—if we ever get a'copter. Plenty of room there fortwo people. You can stay with meand it won't cost you a cent. Andwe'll even pay you over unionwages.     His watery gaze wandered lazilyto the bar mirror, down to the glitteringarray of bottles and then outto the dance floor.     He yawned again and spokeslowly, as if each word were a leadenweight cast reluctantly from histongue:     No, I don't ... care much ...about playing.     What      do     you like to do, John?     His string-bean of a body stiffened.I like to study ancient history ...and I must work on myplan.     Oh Lord, that plan again!     I took a deep breath. Tell meabout it, John. It      must     be interesting.     He made queer clicking noiseswith his mouth that reminded meof a mechanical toy being woundinto motion. The whole foundationof this or any other culture isbased on the history of all the timedimensions, each interwoven withthe other, throughout the ages. Andthe holes provide a means of studyingall of it first hand.       Oh, oh     , I thought.      But you stillhave to eat. Remember, you stillhave to eat.       Trouble is, he went on, thereare so many holes in this universe.     Holes? I kept a straight face.     Certainly. Look around you. Allyou see is holes. These beer bottlesare just holes surrounded by glass.The doors and windows—they'reholes in walls. The mine tunnelsmake a network of holes under thedesert. Caves are holes, animals livein holes, our faces have holes,clothes have holes—millions andmillions of holes!     I winced and thought, humorhim because you gotta eat, yougotta eat.     His voice trembled with emotion.Why, they're everywhere. They'rein pots and pans, in pipes, in rocketjets, in bumpy roads. There are buttonholesand well holes, and shoelaceholes. There are doughnutholes and stocking holes and woodpeckerholes and cheese holes.Oceans lie in holes in the earth,and rivers and canals and valleys.The craters of the Moon are holes.Everything is—     But, John, I said as patiently aspossible, what have these holesgot to do with you?     He glowered at me as if I wereunworthy of such a confidence.What have they to do with me?he shrilled. I can't find the rightone—that's what!     I closed my eyes. Which particularhole are you looking for, John?     He was speaking rapidly againnow.     I was hurrying back to the Universitywith the      Zloomph     to provea point of ancient history to thosefools. They don't believe that instrumentswhich make music actuallyexisted before the tapes! Itwas dark—and some fool researcherhad forgotten to set a force-fieldover the hole—I fell through.     I closed my eyes. Now wait aminute. Did you drop something,lose it in the hole—is that why youhave to find it?     Oh I didn't lose anything important,he snapped,       just     my owntime dimension. And if I don't getback they will think I couldn't provemy theory, that I'm ashamed tocome back, and I'll be discredited.     His chest sagged for an instant.Then he straightened. But there'sstill time for my plan to work out—withthe relative difference takeninto account. Only I get so tiredjust thinking about it.     Yes, I can see where thinkingabout it would tire any one.     He nodded. But it can't be toofar away.     I'd like to hear more about it,I said. But if you're not going toplay with us—     Oh, I'll play with you, hebeamed. I can talk to      you     .      You     understand.     Thank heaven!  <doc-sep>From the entrance of      TheSpace Room     came a thumpingand a grating and a banging. Suddenly,sweeping across the dancefloor like a cold wind, was a bassfiddle, an enormous black monstrosity,a refugee from a pawnbroker'sattic. It was queerly shaped. It wastoo tall, too wide. It was more likea monstrous, midnight-black hour-glassthan a bass.     The fiddle was not unaccompaniedas I'd first imagined. Behindit, streaking over the floor in awaltz of agony, was a little guy, ananimated matchstick with a flat,broad face that seemed to havebeen compressed in a vice. His sandcoloredmop of hair reminded meof a field of dry grass, the longstrands forming loops that flankedthe sides of his face.     His pale blue eyes were watery,like twin pools of fog. His tightfittingsuit, as black as the bass,was something off a park bench. Itwas impossible to guess his age. Hecould have been anywhere betweentwenty and forty.     The bass thumped down uponthe bandstand.     Hello, he puffed. I'm JohnSmith, from the Marsport union.He spoke shrilly and rapidly, as ifanxious to conclude the routine ofintroductions. I'm sorry I'm late,but I was working on my plan.     A moment's silence.     Your plan? I echoed at last.     How to get back home, hesnapped as if I should have knownit already.     Hummm, I thought.     My gaze turned to the dancefloor. Goon-Face had his eyes onus, and they were as cold as six Indiansgoing South.     We'll talk about your plan atintermission, I said, shivering.Now, we'd better start playing.John, do you know      On An AsteroidWith You     ?     I know      everything     , said JohnSmith.     I turned to my piano with ashudder. I didn't dare look at thathorrible fiddle again. I didn't darethink what kind of soul-chillingtones might emerge from its ancientdepths.     And I didn't dare look again atthe second monstrosity, the onenamed John Smith. I closed myeyes and plunged into a four-barintro.     Hammer-Head joined in onvibro-drums and Fat Boy on clarinet,and then—     My eyes burst open. A shivercoursed down my spine like giganticmice feet.     The tones that surged from thatmonstrous bass were ecstatic. Theywere out of a jazzman's Heaven.They were great rolling clouds thatseemed to envelop the entire universewith their vibrance. Theyheld a depth and a volume and arichness that were astounding, thatwere like no others I'd ever heard.     First they went      Boom-de-boom-de-boom-de-boom     ,and then,      boom-de-de-boom-de-de-boom-de-de-boom     ,just like the tones of all bassfiddles.     But there was something else, too.There were overtones, so that Johnwasn't just playing a single note,but a whole chord with each beat.And the fullness, the depth of thoseincredible chords actually set myblood tingling. I could      feel     thetingling just as one can feel the vibrationof a plucked guitar string.     I glanced at the cash customers.They looked like weary warriorsgetting their first glimpse of Valhalla.Gap-jawed and wide-eyed,they seemed in a kind of ecstatichypnosis. Even the silent, bland-facedMartians stopped sippingtheir wine-syrup and nodded theirdark heads in time with the rhythm.     I looked at The Eye. The transformationof his gaunt featureswas miraculous. Shadows of gloomdissolved and were replaced bya black-toothed, crescent-shapedsmile of delight. His eyes shone likethose of a kid seeing Santa Claus.     We finished      On An Asteroid WithYou     , modulated into      Sweet Sallyfrom Saturn     and finished with      Tighten Your Lips on Titan     .     We waited for the applause ofthe Earth people and the shrillingof the Martians to die down. ThenI turned to John and his fiddle.     If I didn't hear it, I gasped,I wouldn't believe it!     And the fiddle's so old, too!added Hammer-Head who, althoughsober, seemed quite drunk.     Old? said John Smith. Ofcourse it's old. It's over five thousandyears old. I was lucky to findit in a pawnshop. Only it's not afiddle but a      Zloomph     . This is theonly one in existence. He pattedthe thing tenderly. I tried the holein it but it isn't the right one.     I wondered what the hell he wastalking about. I studied the black,mirror-like wood. The aperture inthe vesonator was like that of anybass fiddle.     Isn't right for what? I had toask.     He turned his sad eyes to me.For going home, he said.     Hummm, I thought.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What role does Salvation Smith play in THE LORELEI DEATH?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in CONTAGION? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>   CONTAGION     By KATHERINE MacLEAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction October 1950.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Minos was such a lovely planet. Not a     thing seemed wrong with it. Excepting the food,     perhaps. And a disease that wasn't really.      It was like an Earth forest in the fall, but it was not fall. Theforest leaves were green and copper and purple and fiery red, and awind sent patches of bright greenish sunlight dancing among the leafshadows.     The hunt party of the      Explorer     filed along the narrow trail, gunsready, walking carefully, listening to the distant, half familiar criesof strange birds.     A faint crackle of static in their earphones indicated that a gun hadbeen fired.     Got anything? asked June Walton. The helmet intercom carried hervoice to the ears of the others without breaking the stillness of theforest.     Took a shot at something, explained George Barton's cheerful voicein her earphones. She rounded a bend of the trail and came upon Bartonstanding peering up into the trees, his gun still raised. It lookedlike a duck.     This isn't Central Park, said Hal Barton, his brother, coming intosight. His green spacesuit struck an incongruous note against thebronze and red forest. They won't all look like ducks, he saidsoberly.     Maybe some will look like dragons. Don't get eaten by a dragon,June, came Max's voice quietly into her earphones. Not while I stilllove you. He came out of the trees carrying the blood sample kit, andtouched her glove with his, the grin on his ugly beloved face barelyvisible in the mingled light and shade. A patch of sunlight struck agreenish glint from his fishbowl helmet.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>They walked on. A quarter of a mile back, the space ship      Explorer     towered over the forest like a tapering skyscraper, and the people ofthe ship looked out of the viewplates at fresh winds and sunlight andclouds, and they longed to be outside.     But the likeness to Earth was danger, and the cool wind might be death,for if the animals were like Earth animals, their diseases might belike Earth diseases, alike enough to be contagious, different enough tobe impossible to treat. There was warning enough in the past. Colonieshad vanished, and traveled spaceways drifted with the corpses of shipswhich had touched on some plague planet.     The people of the ship waited while their doctors, in airtightspacesuits, hunted animals to test them for contagion.     The four medicos, for June Walton was also a doctor, filed through thealien homelike forest, walking softly, watching for motion among thecopper and purple shadows.     They saw it suddenly, a lighter moving copper patch among the darkerbrowns. Reflex action swung June's gun into line, and behind hersomeone's gun went off with a faint crackle of static, and made a holein the leaves beside the specimen. Then for a while no one moved.     This one looked like a man, a magnificently muscled, leanly graceful,humanlike animal. Even in its callused bare feet, it was a head tallerthan any of them. Red-haired, hawk-faced and darkly tanned, it stoodbreathing heavily, looking at them without expression. At its side hunga sheath knife, and a crossbow was slung across one wide shoulder.     They lowered their guns.     It needs a shave, Max said reasonably in their earphones, and hereached up to his helmet and flipped the switch that let his voice beheard. Something we could do for you, Mac?     The friendly drawl was the first voice that had broken the forestsounds. June smiled suddenly. He was right. The strict logic ofevolution did not demand beards; therefore a non-human would not bewearing a three day growth of red stubble.     Still panting, the tall figure licked dry lips and spoke. Welcome toMinos. The Mayor sends greetings from Alexandria.     English? gasped June.     We were afraid you would take off again before I could bring word toyou.... It's three hundred miles.... We saw your scout plane passtwice, but we couldn't attract its attention.  <doc-sep>   HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS     By JIM HARMON     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Every lonely man tries to make friends.     Manet just didn't know when to stop!      William Manet was alone.     In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It wouldgive him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlateloneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take himto start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to beginteaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminablelectures to a bored and captive audience of one.     He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whetherit was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and asdirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal andthink more like a god than any man for generations.     But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearingbore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.     Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was alreadytalking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he hadcut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up andwinked at it whenever he passed that way.     Lately she was winking back at him.     Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh fromhis arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.     No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manetcould only be this lonely on Mars.     Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.     All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middleof the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat,flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in theblack sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moonsand one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The wholegimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one wasneeded here—no human being, at least.     The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn'ttake much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefullyspecified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycombMars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.     They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated peoplefor the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going toisolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manetand his fellows.     The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fareto Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuterservice for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodationsfor couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren'tproviding fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits betweenthe various Overseers. They weren't very providential.     But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offeredwonderful opportunities.     It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship makinga tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning asbright as envy.  <doc-sep>June looked in stunned silence at the stranger leaning against thetree. Thirty-six light years—thirty-six times six trillion milesof monotonous space travel—to be told that the planet was alreadysettled! We didn't know there was a colony here, she said. It is noton the map.     We were afraid of that, the tall bronze man answered soberly. Wehave been here three generations and yet no traders have come.     Max shifted the kit strap on his shoulder and offered a hand. My nameis Max Stark, M.D. This is June Walton, M.D., Hal Barton, M.D., andGeorge Barton, Hal's brother, also M.D.     Patrick Mead is the name, smiled the man, shaking hands casually.Just a hunter and bridge carpenter myself. Never met any medicosbefore.     The grip was effortless but even through her airproofed glove Junecould feel that the fingers that touched hers were as hard as paddedsteel.     What—what is the population of Minos? she asked.     He looked down at her curiously for a moment before answering. Onlyone hundred and fifty. He smiled. Don't worry, this isn't a cityplanet yet. There's room for a few more people. He shook hands withthe Bartons quickly. That is—you are people, aren't you? he askedstartlingly.     Why not? said Max with a poise that June admired.     Well, you are all so—so— Patrick Mead's eyes roamed across thefaces of the group. So varied.     They could find no meaning in that, and stood puzzled.     I mean, Patrick Mead said into the silence, all these—interestingdifferent hair colors and face shapes and so forth— He made a vaguewave with one hand as if he had run out of words or was anxious not toinsult them.     Joke? Max asked, bewildered.     June laid a hand on his arm. No harm meant, she said to him over theintercom. We're just as much of a shock to him as he is to us.     She addressed a question to the tall colonist on outside sound. Whatshould a person look like, Mr. Mead?     He indicated her with a smile. Like you.     June stepped closer and stood looking up at him, considering her owndescription. She was tall and tanned, like him; had a few freckles,like him; and wavy red hair, like his. She ignored the brightlyhumorous blue eyes.     In other words, she said, everyone on the planet looks like you andme?     Patrick Mead took another look at their four faces and began to grin.Like me, I guess. But I hadn't thought of it before. I did not thinkthat people could have different colored hair or that noses could fitso many ways onto faces. I was judging by my own appearance, but Isuppose any fool can walk on his hands and say the world is upsidedown! He laughed and sobered. But then why wear spacesuits? The airis breathable.     For safety, June told him. We can't take any chances on plague.     Pat Mead was wearing nothing but a loin cloth and his weapons, and thewind ruffled his hair. He looked comfortable, and they longed to takeoff the stuffy spacesuits and feel the wind against their own skins.Minos was like home, like Earth.... But they were strangers.     Plague, Pat Mead said thoughtfully. We had one here. It came twoyears after the colony arrived and killed everyone except the Meadfamilies. They were immune. I guess we look alike because we're allrelated, and that's why I grew up thinking that it is the only waypeople can look.       Plague.     What was the disease? Hal Barton asked.     Pretty gruesome, according to my father. They called it the meltingsickness. The doctors died too soon to find out what it was or what todo about it.     You should have trained for more doctors, or sent to civilization forsome. A trace of impatience was in George Barton's voice.     Pat Mead explained patiently, Our ship, with the power plant and allthe books we needed, went off into the sky to avoid the contagion,and never came back. The crew must have died. Long years of hardshipwere indicated by that statement, a colony with electric power goneand machinery stilled, with key technicians dead and no way to replacethem. June realized then the full meaning of the primitive sheath knifeand bow.     Any recurrence of melting sickness? asked Hal Barton.     No.     Any other diseases?     Not a one.     Max was eyeing the bronze red-headed figure with something approachingawe. Do you think all the Meads look like that? he said to June onthe intercom. I wouldn't mind being a Mead myself!  <doc-sep>She was pink and clean and her platinum hair was pulled straight back,drawing her cheek-bones tighter, straightening her wide, appealingmouth, drawing her lean, athletic, feminine body erect. She was wearinga powder-blue dress that covered all of her breasts and hips and theupper half of her legs.     The most wonderful thing about her was her perfume. Then I realized itwasn't perfume, only the scent of soap. Finally, I knew it wasn't that.It was just healthy, fresh-scrubbed skin.     I went to her at the bus stop, forcing my legs not to stagger. Nobodywould help a drunk. I don't know why, but nobody will help you if theythink you are blotto.     Ma'am, could you help a man who's not had work? I kept my eyes down.I couldn't look a human in the eye and ask for help. Just a dime for acup of coffee. I knew where I could get it for three cents, maybe twoand a half.     I felt her looking at me. She spoke in an educated voice, one she used,perhaps, as a teacher or supervising telephone operator. Do you wantit for coffee, or to apply, or a glass or hypo of something else?     I cringed and whined. She would expect it of me. I suddenly realizedthat anybody as clean as she was had to be a tourist here. I hatetourists.     Just coffee, ma'am. She was younger than I was, so I didn't have tocall her that. A little more for food, if you could spare it.     I hadn't eaten in a day and a half, but I didn't care much.     I'll buy you a dinner, she said carefully, provided I can go withyou and see for myself that you actually eat it.     I felt my face flushing red. You wouldn't want to be seen with a bumlike me, ma'am.     I'll be seen with you if you really want to eat.     It was certainly unfair and probably immoral. But I had no choicewhatever.     Okay, I said, tasting bitterness over the craving.  <doc-sep>A few weeks of this and I became a bit dazed.     And then there was the problem of everyday existence. You might sayit's lucky to be an N/P for a while. I've heard people say that. Basicneeds provided, worlds of leisure time; on the surface it soundsattractive.     But let me give you an example. Say it is monthly realfood day. You goto the store, your mouth already watering in anticipation. You takeyour place in line and wait for your package. The distributor takesyour coupon book and is all ready to reach for your package—and thenhe sees the fatal letters N/P. Non-Producer. A drone, a drain upon theState. You can see his stare curdle. He scowls at the book again.     Not sure this is in order. Better go to the end of the line. We'llcheck it later.     You know what happens before the end of the line reaches the counter.No more packages.     Well, I couldn't get myself off N/P status until I got a post, andwith my name I      couldn't     get a post.     Nor could I change my name. You know what happens when you try tochange something already on the records. The very idea of wantingchange implies criticism of the State. Unthinkable behavior.     That was why this curious dream voice shocked me so. The thing that itsuggested was quite as embarrassing as its non-standard, emotional,provocative tone.     Bear with me; I'm getting to the voice—to      her     —in a moment.     I want to tell you first about the loneliness, the terrible loneliness.I could hardly join group games at any of the rec centers. I could joinno special interest clubs or even State Loyalty chapters. Although Idabbled with theoretical research in my own quarters, I could scarcelysubmit any findings for publication—not with my name attached. Apseudonym would have been non-regulation and illegal.     But there was the worst thing of all. I could not mate.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in CONTAGION?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How does June's interaction with Patrick Mead affect her emotions in CONTAGION? [SEP] <s>June looked in stunned silence at the stranger leaning against thetree. Thirty-six light years—thirty-six times six trillion milesof monotonous space travel—to be told that the planet was alreadysettled! We didn't know there was a colony here, she said. It is noton the map.     We were afraid of that, the tall bronze man answered soberly. Wehave been here three generations and yet no traders have come.     Max shifted the kit strap on his shoulder and offered a hand. My nameis Max Stark, M.D. This is June Walton, M.D., Hal Barton, M.D., andGeorge Barton, Hal's brother, also M.D.     Patrick Mead is the name, smiled the man, shaking hands casually.Just a hunter and bridge carpenter myself. Never met any medicosbefore.     The grip was effortless but even through her airproofed glove Junecould feel that the fingers that touched hers were as hard as paddedsteel.     What—what is the population of Minos? she asked.     He looked down at her curiously for a moment before answering. Onlyone hundred and fifty. He smiled. Don't worry, this isn't a cityplanet yet. There's room for a few more people. He shook hands withthe Bartons quickly. That is—you are people, aren't you? he askedstartlingly.     Why not? said Max with a poise that June admired.     Well, you are all so—so— Patrick Mead's eyes roamed across thefaces of the group. So varied.     They could find no meaning in that, and stood puzzled.     I mean, Patrick Mead said into the silence, all these—interestingdifferent hair colors and face shapes and so forth— He made a vaguewave with one hand as if he had run out of words or was anxious not toinsult them.     Joke? Max asked, bewildered.     June laid a hand on his arm. No harm meant, she said to him over theintercom. We're just as much of a shock to him as he is to us.     She addressed a question to the tall colonist on outside sound. Whatshould a person look like, Mr. Mead?     He indicated her with a smile. Like you.     June stepped closer and stood looking up at him, considering her owndescription. She was tall and tanned, like him; had a few freckles,like him; and wavy red hair, like his. She ignored the brightlyhumorous blue eyes.     In other words, she said, everyone on the planet looks like you andme?     Patrick Mead took another look at their four faces and began to grin.Like me, I guess. But I hadn't thought of it before. I did not thinkthat people could have different colored hair or that noses could fitso many ways onto faces. I was judging by my own appearance, but Isuppose any fool can walk on his hands and say the world is upsidedown! He laughed and sobered. But then why wear spacesuits? The airis breathable.     For safety, June told him. We can't take any chances on plague.     Pat Mead was wearing nothing but a loin cloth and his weapons, and thewind ruffled his hair. He looked comfortable, and they longed to takeoff the stuffy spacesuits and feel the wind against their own skins.Minos was like home, like Earth.... But they were strangers.     Plague, Pat Mead said thoughtfully. We had one here. It came twoyears after the colony arrived and killed everyone except the Meadfamilies. They were immune. I guess we look alike because we're allrelated, and that's why I grew up thinking that it is the only waypeople can look.       Plague.     What was the disease? Hal Barton asked.     Pretty gruesome, according to my father. They called it the meltingsickness. The doctors died too soon to find out what it was or what todo about it.     You should have trained for more doctors, or sent to civilization forsome. A trace of impatience was in George Barton's voice.     Pat Mead explained patiently, Our ship, with the power plant and allthe books we needed, went off into the sky to avoid the contagion,and never came back. The crew must have died. Long years of hardshipwere indicated by that statement, a colony with electric power goneand machinery stilled, with key technicians dead and no way to replacethem. June realized then the full meaning of the primitive sheath knifeand bow.     Any recurrence of melting sickness? asked Hal Barton.     No.     Any other diseases?     Not a one.     Max was eyeing the bronze red-headed figure with something approachingawe. Do you think all the Meads look like that? he said to June onthe intercom. I wouldn't mind being a Mead myself!  <doc-sep>Go ahead and eat it. It just wouldn't digest. You'd stay hungry.     Why? Len was aggrieved.     Chemical differences in the basic protoplasm of Minos. Differentamino linkages, left-handed instead of right-handed molecules in thecarbohydrates, things like that. Nothing will be digestible here untilyou are adapted chemically by a little test-tube evolution. Till thenyou'd starve to death on a full stomach.     Pat's side of the table had been loaded with the dishes from two trays,but it was almost clear now and the dishes were stacked neatly to oneside. He started on three desserts, thoughtfully tasting each in turn.     Test-tube evolution? Max repeated. What's that? I thought you peoplehad no doctors.     It's a story. Pat leaned back again. Alexander P. Mead, the head ofthe Mead clan, was a plant geneticist, a very determined personalityand no man to argue with. He didn't want us to go through the struggleof killing off all Minos plants and putting in our own, spoiling theface of the planet and upsetting the balance of its ecology. He decidedthat he would adapt our genes to this planet or kill us trying. He didit all right.'     Did which? asked June, suddenly feeling a sourceless prickle of fear.     Adapted us to Minos. He took human cells—  <doc-sep>May I go aboard? Pat asked hopefully.     Max unslung the specimen kit from his shoulder, laid it on the carpetof plants that covered the ground and began to open it.     Tests first, Hal Barton said. We have to find out if you peoplestill carry this so-called melting sickness. We'll have to de-microbeyou and take specimens before we let you on board. Once on, you'll beno good as a check for what the other Meads might have.     Max was taking out a rack and a stand of preservative bottles andhypodermics.     Are you going to jab me with those? Pat asked with interest.     You're just a specimen animal to me, bud! Max grinned at Pat Mead,and Pat grinned back. June saw that they were friends already, thetall pantherish colonist, and the wry, black-haired doctor. She felt astab of guilt because she loved Max and yet could pity him for beingsmaller and frailer than Pat Mead.     Lie down, Max told him, and hold still. We need two spinal fluidsamples from the back, a body cavity one in front, and another from thearm.     Pat lay down obediently. Max knelt, and, as he spoke, expertly swabbedand inserted needles with the smooth speed that had made him a finenerve surgeon on Earth.     High above them the scout helioplane came out of an opening in the shipand angled off toward the west, its buzz diminishing. Then, suddenly,it veered and headed back, and Reno Unrich's voice came tinnily fromtheir earphones:     What's that you've got? Hey, what are you docs doing down there? Hebanked again and came to a stop, hovering fifty feet away. June couldsee his startled face looking through the glass at Pat.     Hal Barton switched to a narrow radio beam, explained rapidly andpointed in the direction of Alexandria. Reno's plane lifted and flewaway over the odd-colored forest.     The plane will drop a note on your town, telling them you gotthrough to us, Hal Barton told Pat, who was sitting up watching Maxdexterously put the blood and spinal fluids into the right bottleswithout exposing them to air.     We won't be free to contact your people until we know if they stillcarry melting sickness, Max added. You might be immune so it doesn'tshow on you, but still carry enough germs—if that's what caused it—towipe out a planet.     If you do carry melting sickness, said Hal Barton, we won't be ableto mingle with your people until we've cleared them of the disease.     Starting with me? Pat asked.     Starting with you, Max told him ruefully, as soon as you step onboard.     More needles?     Yes, and a few little extras thrown in.     Rough?     It isn't easy.     A few minutes later, standing in the stalls for spacesuitdecontamination, being buffeted by jets of hot disinfectant, bathed inglares of sterilizing ultraviolet radiation, June remembered that andcompared Pat Mead's treatment to theirs.     In the      Explorer     , stored carefully in sealed tanks and containers,was the ultimate, multi-purpose cureall. It was a solution of enzymesso like the key catalysts of the human cell nucleus that it causedchemical derangement and disintegration in any non-human cell. Nothingcould live in contact with it but human cells; any alien intruder tothe body would die. Nucleocat Cureall was its trade name.     But the cureall alone was not enough for complete safety. Plagues hadbeen known to slay too rapidly and universally to be checked by humantreatment. Doctors are not reliable; they die. Therefore spaceways andinterplanetary health law demanded that ship equipment for guardingagainst disease be totally mechanical in operation, rapid and efficient.     Somewhere near them, in a series of stalls which led around andaround like a rabbit maze, Pat was being herded from stall to stallby peremptory mechanical voices, directed to soap and shower, orderedto insert his arm into a slot which took a sample of his blood, givensolutions to drink, bathed in germicidal ultraviolet, shaken by sonicblasts, breathing air thick with sprays of germicidal mists, beingdirected to put his arms into other slots where they were anesthesizedand injected with various immunizing solutions.     Finally, he would be put in a room of high temperature and extremedryness, and instructed to sit for half an hour while more fluids weredripped into his veins through long thin tubes.     All legal spaceships were built for safety. No chance was taken ofallowing a suspected carrier to bring an infection on board with him.  <doc-sep>They walked on. A quarter of a mile back, the space ship      Explorer     towered over the forest like a tapering skyscraper, and the people ofthe ship looked out of the viewplates at fresh winds and sunlight andclouds, and they longed to be outside.     But the likeness to Earth was danger, and the cool wind might be death,for if the animals were like Earth animals, their diseases might belike Earth diseases, alike enough to be contagious, different enough tobe impossible to treat. There was warning enough in the past. Colonieshad vanished, and traveled spaceways drifted with the corpses of shipswhich had touched on some plague planet.     The people of the ship waited while their doctors, in airtightspacesuits, hunted animals to test them for contagion.     The four medicos, for June Walton was also a doctor, filed through thealien homelike forest, walking softly, watching for motion among thecopper and purple shadows.     They saw it suddenly, a lighter moving copper patch among the darkerbrowns. Reflex action swung June's gun into line, and behind hersomeone's gun went off with a faint crackle of static, and made a holein the leaves beside the specimen. Then for a while no one moved.     This one looked like a man, a magnificently muscled, leanly graceful,humanlike animal. Even in its callused bare feet, it was a head tallerthan any of them. Red-haired, hawk-faced and darkly tanned, it stoodbreathing heavily, looking at them without expression. At its side hunga sheath knife, and a crossbow was slung across one wide shoulder.     They lowered their guns.     It needs a shave, Max said reasonably in their earphones, and hereached up to his helmet and flipped the switch that let his voice beheard. Something we could do for you, Mac?     The friendly drawl was the first voice that had broken the forestsounds. June smiled suddenly. He was right. The strict logic ofevolution did not demand beards; therefore a non-human would not bewearing a three day growth of red stubble.     Still panting, the tall figure licked dry lips and spoke. Welcome toMinos. The Mayor sends greetings from Alexandria.     English? gasped June.     We were afraid you would take off again before I could bring word toyou.... It's three hundred miles.... We saw your scout plane passtwice, but we couldn't attract its attention.  <doc-sep>   CONTAGION     By KATHERINE MacLEAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction October 1950.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Minos was such a lovely planet. Not a     thing seemed wrong with it. Excepting the food,     perhaps. And a disease that wasn't really.      It was like an Earth forest in the fall, but it was not fall. Theforest leaves were green and copper and purple and fiery red, and awind sent patches of bright greenish sunlight dancing among the leafshadows.     The hunt party of the      Explorer     filed along the narrow trail, gunsready, walking carefully, listening to the distant, half familiar criesof strange birds.     A faint crackle of static in their earphones indicated that a gun hadbeen fired.     Got anything? asked June Walton. The helmet intercom carried hervoice to the ears of the others without breaking the stillness of theforest.     Took a shot at something, explained George Barton's cheerful voicein her earphones. She rounded a bend of the trail and came upon Bartonstanding peering up into the trees, his gun still raised. It lookedlike a duck.     This isn't Central Park, said Hal Barton, his brother, coming intosight. His green spacesuit struck an incongruous note against thebronze and red forest. They won't all look like ducks, he saidsoberly.     Maybe some will look like dragons. Don't get eaten by a dragon,June, came Max's voice quietly into her earphones. Not while I stilllove you. He came out of the trees carrying the blood sample kit, andtouched her glove with his, the grin on his ugly beloved face barelyvisible in the mingled light and shade. A patch of sunlight struck agreenish glint from his fishbowl helmet.  <doc-sep>They climbed the last two turns to the cafeteria, and entered to a richsubdued blend of soft music and quiet conversations. The cafeteriawas a section of the old dining room, left when the rest of the shiphad been converted to living and working quarters, and it still hadthe original finely grained wood of the ceiling and walls, the soundabsorbency, the soft music spools and the intimate small light at eachtable where people leisurely ate and talked.     They stood in line at the hot foods counter, and behind her Junecould hear a girl's voice talking excitedly through the murmur ofconversation.     —new man, honest! I saw him through the viewplate when they came in.He's down in the medical department. A real frontiersman.     The line drew abreast of the counters, and she and Max chose threeheaping trays, starting with hydroponic mushroom steak, raised inthe growing trays of water and chemicals; sharp salad bowl with rosetomatoes and aromatic peppers; tank-grown fish with special sauce; fourdifferent desserts, and assorted beverages.     Presently they had three tottering trays successfully maneuvered to atable. Brant St. Clair came over. I beg your pardon, Max, but they aresaying something about Reno carrying messages to a colony of savages,for the medical department. Will he be back soon, do you know?     Max smiled up at him, his square face affectionate. Everyone liked theshy Canadian. He's back already. We just saw him come in.     Oh, fine. St. Clair beamed. I had an appointment with him to go outand confirm what looks like a nice vein of iron to the northeast. Haveyou seen Bess? Oh—there she is. He turned swiftly and hurried away.     A very tall man with fiery red hair came in surrounded by an eagerlytalking crowd of ship people. It was Pat Mead. He stood in the doorway,alertly scanning the dining room. Sheer vitality made him seem evenlarger than he was. Sighting June, he smiled and began to thread towardtheir table.     Look! said someone. There's the colonist! Shelia, a pretty, jeweledwoman, followed and caught his arm. Did you      really     swim across ariver to come here?     Overflowing with good-will and curiosity, people approached from alldirections. Did you actually walk three hundred miles? Come, eat withus. Let me help choose your tray.     Everyone wanted him to eat at their table, everyone was a specialistand wanted data about Minos. They all wanted anecdotes about huntingwild animals with a bow and arrow.     He needs to be rescued, Max said. He won't have a chance to eat.     June and Max got up firmly, edged through the crowd, captured Pat andescorted him back to their table. June found herself pleased to beclaiming the hero of the hour.  <doc-sep>Bombay, India     June 8     Mr. Joe Binkle     Plaza Ritz Arms     New York City     Dear Joe:     Greetings, greetings, greetings. Hold firm in your wretched projection,for tomorrow you will not be alone in the not-world. In two days I,Glmpauszn, will be born.     Today I hang in our newly developed not-pod just within the mirrorgateway, torn with the agony that we calculated must go with suchtremendous wavelength fluctuations. I have attuned myself to a fetuswithin the body of a not-woman in the not-world. Already I am staticand for hours have looked into this weird extension of the Universewith fear and trepidation.     As soon as my stasis was achieved, I tried to contact you, but gotno response. What could have diminished your powers of articulatewave interaction to make you incapable of receiving my messages andreturning them? My wave went out to yours and found it, barely pulsingand surrounded with an impregnable chimera.     Quickly, from the not-world vibrations about you, I learned thenot-knowledge of your location. So I must communicate with you by whatthe not-world calls mail till we meet. For this purpose I mustutilize the feeble vibrations of various not-people through whoseinadequate articulation I will attempt to make my moves known to you.Each time I will pick a city other than the one I am in at the time.     I, Glmpauszn, come equipped with powers evolved from your fragmentaryreports before you ceased to vibrate to us and with a vast treasuryof facts from indirect sources. Soon our tortured people will be freeof the fearsome not-folk and I will be their liberator. You failed inyour task, but I will try to get you off with light punishment when wereturn again.     The hand that writes this letter is that of a boy in the not-city ofBombay in the not-country of India. He does not know he writes it.Tomorrow it will be someone else. You must never know of my exactlocation, for the not-people might have access to the information.     I must leave off now because the not-child is about to be born. When itis alone in the room, it will be spirited away and I will spring fromthe pod on the gateway into its crib and will be its exact vibrationallikeness.     I have tremendous powers. But the not-people must never know I am amongthem. This is the only way I could arrive in the room where the gatewaylies without arousing suspicion. I will grow up as the not-child inorder that I might destroy the not-people completely.     All is well, only they shot this information file into my matrix toofast. I'm having a hard time sorting facts and make the right decision.Gezsltrysk, what a task!     Farewell till later.     Glmpauszn  <doc-sep>June stepped from the last shower stall into the locker room, zippedoff her spacesuit with a sigh of relief, and contemplated herself in awall mirror. Red hair, dark blue eyes, tall....     I've got a good figure, she said thoughtfully.     Max turned at the door. Why this sudden interest in your looks? heasked suspiciously. Do we stand here and admire you, or do we finallyget something to eat?     Wait a minute. She went to a wall phone and dialed it carefully,using a combination from the ship's directory. How're you doing, Pat?     The phone picked up a hissing of water or spray. There was a startledchuckle. Voices, too! Hello, June. How do you tell a machine to gojump in the lake?     Are you hungry?     No food since yesterday.     We'll have a banquet ready for you when you get out, she told Pat andhung up, smiling. Pat Mead's voice had a vitality and enjoyment whichmade shipboard talk sound like sad artificial gaiety in contrast.     They looked into the nearby small laboratory where twelve squealinghamsters were protestingly submitting to a small injection each ofPat's blood. In most of them the injection was followed by one ofantihistaminics and adaptives. Otherwise the hamster defense systemwould treat all non-hamster cells as enemies, even the harmless humanblood cells, and fight back against them violently.     One hamster, the twelfth, was given an extra large dose of adaptive,so that if there were a disease, he would not fight it or the humancells, and thus succumb more rapidly.     How ya doing, George? Max asked.     Routine, George Barton grunted absently.     On the way up the long spiral ramps to the dining hall, they passed aviewplate. It showed a long scene of mountains in the distance on thehorizon, and between them, rising step by step as they grew fartheraway, the low rolling hills, bronze and red with patches of clear greenwhere there were fields.     Someone was looking out, standing very still, as if she had beenthere a long time—Bess St. Clair, a Canadian woman. It looks likeWinnipeg, she told them as they paused. When are you doctors going tolet us out of this blithering barberpole? Look, she pointed. See thatpatch of field on the south hillside, with the brook winding throughit? I've staked that hillside for our house. When do we get out?  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How does June's interaction with Patrick Mead affect her emotions in CONTAGION?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What does the term melting sickness refer to in CONTAGION? [SEP] <s>June looked in stunned silence at the stranger leaning against thetree. Thirty-six light years—thirty-six times six trillion milesof monotonous space travel—to be told that the planet was alreadysettled! We didn't know there was a colony here, she said. It is noton the map.     We were afraid of that, the tall bronze man answered soberly. Wehave been here three generations and yet no traders have come.     Max shifted the kit strap on his shoulder and offered a hand. My nameis Max Stark, M.D. This is June Walton, M.D., Hal Barton, M.D., andGeorge Barton, Hal's brother, also M.D.     Patrick Mead is the name, smiled the man, shaking hands casually.Just a hunter and bridge carpenter myself. Never met any medicosbefore.     The grip was effortless but even through her airproofed glove Junecould feel that the fingers that touched hers were as hard as paddedsteel.     What—what is the population of Minos? she asked.     He looked down at her curiously for a moment before answering. Onlyone hundred and fifty. He smiled. Don't worry, this isn't a cityplanet yet. There's room for a few more people. He shook hands withthe Bartons quickly. That is—you are people, aren't you? he askedstartlingly.     Why not? said Max with a poise that June admired.     Well, you are all so—so— Patrick Mead's eyes roamed across thefaces of the group. So varied.     They could find no meaning in that, and stood puzzled.     I mean, Patrick Mead said into the silence, all these—interestingdifferent hair colors and face shapes and so forth— He made a vaguewave with one hand as if he had run out of words or was anxious not toinsult them.     Joke? Max asked, bewildered.     June laid a hand on his arm. No harm meant, she said to him over theintercom. We're just as much of a shock to him as he is to us.     She addressed a question to the tall colonist on outside sound. Whatshould a person look like, Mr. Mead?     He indicated her with a smile. Like you.     June stepped closer and stood looking up at him, considering her owndescription. She was tall and tanned, like him; had a few freckles,like him; and wavy red hair, like his. She ignored the brightlyhumorous blue eyes.     In other words, she said, everyone on the planet looks like you andme?     Patrick Mead took another look at their four faces and began to grin.Like me, I guess. But I hadn't thought of it before. I did not thinkthat people could have different colored hair or that noses could fitso many ways onto faces. I was judging by my own appearance, but Isuppose any fool can walk on his hands and say the world is upsidedown! He laughed and sobered. But then why wear spacesuits? The airis breathable.     For safety, June told him. We can't take any chances on plague.     Pat Mead was wearing nothing but a loin cloth and his weapons, and thewind ruffled his hair. He looked comfortable, and they longed to takeoff the stuffy spacesuits and feel the wind against their own skins.Minos was like home, like Earth.... But they were strangers.     Plague, Pat Mead said thoughtfully. We had one here. It came twoyears after the colony arrived and killed everyone except the Meadfamilies. They were immune. I guess we look alike because we're allrelated, and that's why I grew up thinking that it is the only waypeople can look.       Plague.     What was the disease? Hal Barton asked.     Pretty gruesome, according to my father. They called it the meltingsickness. The doctors died too soon to find out what it was or what todo about it.     You should have trained for more doctors, or sent to civilization forsome. A trace of impatience was in George Barton's voice.     Pat Mead explained patiently, Our ship, with the power plant and allthe books we needed, went off into the sky to avoid the contagion,and never came back. The crew must have died. Long years of hardshipwere indicated by that statement, a colony with electric power goneand machinery stilled, with key technicians dead and no way to replacethem. June realized then the full meaning of the primitive sheath knifeand bow.     Any recurrence of melting sickness? asked Hal Barton.     No.     Any other diseases?     Not a one.     Max was eyeing the bronze red-headed figure with something approachingawe. Do you think all the Meads look like that? he said to June onthe intercom. I wouldn't mind being a Mead myself!  <doc-sep>May I go aboard? Pat asked hopefully.     Max unslung the specimen kit from his shoulder, laid it on the carpetof plants that covered the ground and began to open it.     Tests first, Hal Barton said. We have to find out if you peoplestill carry this so-called melting sickness. We'll have to de-microbeyou and take specimens before we let you on board. Once on, you'll beno good as a check for what the other Meads might have.     Max was taking out a rack and a stand of preservative bottles andhypodermics.     Are you going to jab me with those? Pat asked with interest.     You're just a specimen animal to me, bud! Max grinned at Pat Mead,and Pat grinned back. June saw that they were friends already, thetall pantherish colonist, and the wry, black-haired doctor. She felt astab of guilt because she loved Max and yet could pity him for beingsmaller and frailer than Pat Mead.     Lie down, Max told him, and hold still. We need two spinal fluidsamples from the back, a body cavity one in front, and another from thearm.     Pat lay down obediently. Max knelt, and, as he spoke, expertly swabbedand inserted needles with the smooth speed that had made him a finenerve surgeon on Earth.     High above them the scout helioplane came out of an opening in the shipand angled off toward the west, its buzz diminishing. Then, suddenly,it veered and headed back, and Reno Unrich's voice came tinnily fromtheir earphones:     What's that you've got? Hey, what are you docs doing down there? Hebanked again and came to a stop, hovering fifty feet away. June couldsee his startled face looking through the glass at Pat.     Hal Barton switched to a narrow radio beam, explained rapidly andpointed in the direction of Alexandria. Reno's plane lifted and flewaway over the odd-colored forest.     The plane will drop a note on your town, telling them you gotthrough to us, Hal Barton told Pat, who was sitting up watching Maxdexterously put the blood and spinal fluids into the right bottleswithout exposing them to air.     We won't be free to contact your people until we know if they stillcarry melting sickness, Max added. You might be immune so it doesn'tshow on you, but still carry enough germs—if that's what caused it—towipe out a planet.     If you do carry melting sickness, said Hal Barton, we won't be ableto mingle with your people until we've cleared them of the disease.     Starting with me? Pat asked.     Starting with you, Max told him ruefully, as soon as you step onboard.     More needles?     Yes, and a few little extras thrown in.     Rough?     It isn't easy.     A few minutes later, standing in the stalls for spacesuitdecontamination, being buffeted by jets of hot disinfectant, bathed inglares of sterilizing ultraviolet radiation, June remembered that andcompared Pat Mead's treatment to theirs.     In the      Explorer     , stored carefully in sealed tanks and containers,was the ultimate, multi-purpose cureall. It was a solution of enzymesso like the key catalysts of the human cell nucleus that it causedchemical derangement and disintegration in any non-human cell. Nothingcould live in contact with it but human cells; any alien intruder tothe body would die. Nucleocat Cureall was its trade name.     But the cureall alone was not enough for complete safety. Plagues hadbeen known to slay too rapidly and universally to be checked by humantreatment. Doctors are not reliable; they die. Therefore spaceways andinterplanetary health law demanded that ship equipment for guardingagainst disease be totally mechanical in operation, rapid and efficient.     Somewhere near them, in a series of stalls which led around andaround like a rabbit maze, Pat was being herded from stall to stallby peremptory mechanical voices, directed to soap and shower, orderedto insert his arm into a slot which took a sample of his blood, givensolutions to drink, bathed in germicidal ultraviolet, shaken by sonicblasts, breathing air thick with sprays of germicidal mists, beingdirected to put his arms into other slots where they were anesthesizedand injected with various immunizing solutions.     Finally, he would be put in a room of high temperature and extremedryness, and instructed to sit for half an hour while more fluids weredripped into his veins through long thin tubes.     All legal spaceships were built for safety. No chance was taken ofallowing a suspected carrier to bring an infection on board with him.  <doc-sep>Their job had been made easy by the coming of Pat. They went back tothe ship laughing, exchanging anecdotes with him. There was nothingnow to keep Minos from being the home they wanted, except the meltingsickness, and, forewarned against it, they could take precautions.     The polished silver and black column of the      Explorer     seemed to risehigher and higher over the trees as they neared it. Then its symmetryblurred all sense of specific size as they stepped out from among thetrees and stood on the edge of the meadow, looking up.     Nice! said Pat. Beautiful! The admiration in his voice was warming.     It was a yacht, Max said, still looking up, second hand, an old-timebeauty without a sign of wear. Synthetic diamond-studded control boardand murals on the walls. It doesn't have the new speed drives, but itbrought us thirty-six light years in one and a half subjective years.Plenty good enough.     The tall tanned man looked faintly wistful, and June realized thathe had never had access to a full library, never seen a movie, neverexperienced luxury. He had been born and raised on Minos.  <doc-sep>Wichita, Kansas     June 13     Dear Joe:     Mnghjkl, fhfjgfhjklop phelnoprausynks. No. When I communicate with you,I see I must avoid those complexities of procedure for which there areno terms in this language. There is no way of describing to you innot-language what I had to go through during the first moments of mybirth.     Now I know what difficulties you must have had with your limitedequipment. These not-people are unpredictable and strange. Their doctorcame in and weighed me again the day after my birth. Consternationreigned when it was discovered I was ten pounds heavier. Whatdifference could it possibly make? Many doctors then came in to see me.As they arrived hourly, they found me heavier and heavier. Naturally,since I am growing. This is part of my instructions. My not-mother(Gezsltrysk!) then burst into tears. The doctors conferred, threw uptheir hands and left.     I learned the following day that the opposite component of mynot-mother, my not-father, had been away riding on some conveyanceduring my birth. He was out on ... what did they call it? Oh, yes, abender. He did not arrive till three days after I was born.     When I heard them say that he was straightening up to come see me, Imade a special effort and grew marvelously in one afternoon. I was 36not-world inches tall by evening. My not-father entered while I wasstanding by the crib examining a syringe the doctor had left behind.He stopped in his tracks on entering the room and seemed incapable ofspeech.     Dredging into the treasury of knowledge I had come equipped with, Iproduced the proper phrase for occasions of this kind in the not-world.     Poppa, I said.     This was the first use I had made of the so-called vocal cords thatare now part of my extended matrix. The sound I emitted soundedlow-pitched, guttural and penetrating even to myself. It must havejarred on my not-father's ears, for he turned and ran shouting from theroom.     They apprehended him on the stairs and I heard him babble somethingabout my being a monster and no child of his. My not-mother appeared atthe doorway and instead of being pleased at the progress of my growth,she fell down heavily. She made a distinct      thump     on the floor.     This brought the rest of them on the run, so I climbed out the windowand retreated across a nearby field. A prolonged search was launched,but I eluded them. What unpredictable beings!     I reported my tremendous progress back to our world, including thecleverness by which I managed to escape my pursuers. I received a replyfrom Blgftury which, on careful analysis, seems to be small praiseindeed. In fact, some of his phrases apparently contain veiled threats.But you know old Blgftury. He wanted to go on this expedition himselfand it's his nature never to flatter anyone.     From now on I will refer to not-people simply as people, dropping thequalifying preface except where comparisons must be made between thisalleged world and our own. It is merely an offshoot of our primitivemythology when this was considered a spirit world, just as these peoplerefer to our world as never-never land and other anomalies. But welearned otherwise, while they never have.     New sensations crowd into my consciousness and I am having a hardtime classifying them. Anyway, I shall carry on swiftly now to theinevitable climax in which I singlehanded will obliterate the terror ofthe not-world and return to our world a hero. I cannot understand yournot replying to my letters. I have given you a box number. What couldhave happened to your vibrations?     Glmpauszn  <doc-sep>Reno was pleased. He had dabbled in sociology before retraining as amechanic for the expedition. This gives me a chance to study theirmores. He winked wickedly. I may not be back for several nights.They watched through the viewplate as he took off, and then went overto the laboratory for a look at the hamsters.     Three were alive and healthy, munching lettuce. One was the control;the other two had been given shots of Pat's blood from before heentered the ship, but with no additional treatment. Apparently ahamster could fight off melting sickness easily if left alone. Threewere still feverish and ruffled, with a low red blood count, butrecovering. The three dead ones had been given strong shots of adaptiveand counter histamine, so their bodies had not fought back against theattack.     June glanced at the dead animals hastily and looked away again.They lay twisted with a strange semi-fluid limpness, as if ready todissolve. The last hamster, which had been given the heaviest doseof adaptive, had apparently lost all its hair before death. It washairless and pink, like a still-born baby.     We can find no micro-organisms, George Barton said. None at all.Nothing in the body that should not be there. Leucosis and anemia.Fever only for the ones that fought it off. He handed Max sometemperature charts and graphs of blood counts.     June wandered out into the hall. Pediatrics and obstetrics were herfield; she left the cellular research to Max, and just helped him withlaboratory routine. The strange mood followed her out into the hall,then abruptly lightened.     Coming toward her, busily telling a tale of adventure to the gorgeousShelia Davenport, was a tall, red-headed, magnificently handsome man.It was his handsomeness which made Pat such a pleasure to look uponand talk with, she guiltily told herself, and it was his tremendousvitality.... It was like meeting a movie hero in the flesh, or a heroout of the pages of a book—Deer-slayer, John Clayton, Lord Greystoke.     She waited in the doorway to the laboratory and made no move to jointhem, merely acknowledged the two with a nod and a smile and a casuallift of the hand. They nodded and smiled back.     Hello, June, said Pat and continued telling his tale, but as theypassed he lightly touched her arm.     Oh, pioneer! she said mockingly and softly to his passing profile,and knew that he had heard.  <doc-sep>Look at it! Loyce snapped. Come on out here!     Don Fergusson came slowly out of the store, buttoning his pin-stripecoat with dignity. This is a big deal, Ed. I can't just leave the guystanding there.     See it? Ed pointed into the gathering gloom. The lamppost jutted upagainst the sky—the post and the bundle swinging from it. There it is.How the hell long has it been there? His voice rose excitedly. What'swrong with everybody? They just walk on past!     Don Fergusson lit a cigarette slowly. Take it easy, old man. There mustbe a good reason, or it wouldn't be there.     A reason! What kind of a reason?     Fergusson shrugged. Like the time the Traffic Safety Council put thatwrecked Buick there. Some sort of civic thing. How would I know?     Jack Potter from the shoe shop joined them. What's up, boys?     There's a body hanging from the lamppost, Loyce said. I'm going tocall the cops.     They must know about it, Potter said. Or otherwise it wouldn't bethere.     I got to get back in. Fergusson headed back into the store. Businessbefore pleasure.     Loyce began to get hysterical. You see it? You see it hanging there? Aman's body! A dead man!     Sure, Ed. I saw it this afternoon when I went out for coffee.     You mean it's been there all afternoon?     Sure. What's the matter? Potter glanced at his watch. Have to run.See you later, Ed.     Potter hurried off, joining the flow of people moving along thesidewalk. Men and women, passing by the park. A few glanced up curiouslyat the dark bundle—and then went on. Nobody stopped. Nobody paid anyattention.     I'm going nuts, Loyce whispered. He made his way to the curb andcrossed out into traffic, among the cars. Horns honked angrily at him.He gained the curb and stepped up onto the little square of green.     The man had been middle-aged. His clothing was ripped and torn, a graysuit, splashed and caked with dried mud. A stranger. Loyce had neverseen him before. Not a local man. His face was partly turned, away, andin the evening wind he spun a little, turning gently, silently. His skinwas gouged and cut. Red gashes, deep scratches of congealed blood. Apair of steel-rimmed glasses hung from one ear, dangling foolishly. Hiseyes bulged. His mouth was open, tongue thick and ugly blue.     For Heaven's sake, Loyce muttered, sickened. He pushed down his nauseaand made his way back to the sidewalk. He was shaking all over, withrevulsion—and fear.       Why?     Who was the man? Why was he hanging there? What did it mean?     And—why didn't anybody notice?     He bumped into a small man hurrying along the sidewalk. Watch it! theman grated, Oh, it's you, Ed.     Ed nodded dazedly. Hello, Jenkins.     What's the matter? The stationery clerk caught Ed's arm. You looksick.     The body. There in the park.     Sure, Ed. Jenkins led him into the alcove of LOYCE TV SALES ANDSERVICE. Take it easy.     Margaret Henderson from the jewelry store joined them. Somethingwrong?     Ed's not feeling well.     Loyce yanked himself free. How can you stand here? Don't you see it?For God's sake—     What's he talking about? Margaret asked nervously.     The body! Ed shouted. The body hanging there!     More people collected. Is he sick? It's Ed Loyce. You okay, Ed?     The body! Loyce screamed, struggling to get past them. Hands caught athim. He tore loose. Let me go! The police! Get the police!     Ed—     Better get a doctor!     He must be sick.     Or drunk.     Loyce fought his way through the people. He stumbled and half fell.Through a blur he saw rows of faces, curious, concerned, anxious. Menand women halting to see what the disturbance was. He fought past themtoward his store. He could see Fergusson inside talking to a man,showing him an Emerson TV set. Pete Foley in the back at the servicecounter, setting up a new Philco. Loyce shouted at them frantically.His voice was lost in the roar of traffic and the murmur around him.     Do something! he screamed. Don't stand there! Do something!Something's wrong! Something's happened! Things are going on!     The crowd melted respectfully for the two heavy-set cops movingefficiently toward Loyce.  <doc-sep>   CONTAGION     By KATHERINE MacLEAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction October 1950.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Minos was such a lovely planet. Not a     thing seemed wrong with it. Excepting the food,     perhaps. And a disease that wasn't really.      It was like an Earth forest in the fall, but it was not fall. Theforest leaves were green and copper and purple and fiery red, and awind sent patches of bright greenish sunlight dancing among the leafshadows.     The hunt party of the      Explorer     filed along the narrow trail, gunsready, walking carefully, listening to the distant, half familiar criesof strange birds.     A faint crackle of static in their earphones indicated that a gun hadbeen fired.     Got anything? asked June Walton. The helmet intercom carried hervoice to the ears of the others without breaking the stillness of theforest.     Took a shot at something, explained George Barton's cheerful voicein her earphones. She rounded a bend of the trail and came upon Bartonstanding peering up into the trees, his gun still raised. It lookedlike a duck.     This isn't Central Park, said Hal Barton, his brother, coming intosight. His green spacesuit struck an incongruous note against thebronze and red forest. They won't all look like ducks, he saidsoberly.     Maybe some will look like dragons. Don't get eaten by a dragon,June, came Max's voice quietly into her earphones. Not while I stilllove you. He came out of the trees carrying the blood sample kit, andtouched her glove with his, the grin on his ugly beloved face barelyvisible in the mingled light and shade. A patch of sunlight struck agreenish glint from his fishbowl helmet.  <doc-sep>The second dark of the third cycle was lightening when Retief left theEmbassy technical library and crossed the corridor to his office. Heflipped on a light. A note was tucked under a paperweight:     Retief—I shall expect your attendance at the IAS dinner at firstdark of the fourth cycle. There will be a brief but, I hope, impressiveSponsorship ceremony for the SCARS group, with full press coverage,arrangements for which I have managed to complete in spite of yourintransigence.     Retief snorted and glanced at his watch. Less than three hours. Justtime to creep home by flat-car, dress in ceremonial uniform and creepback.     Outside he flagged a lumbering bus. He stationed himself in a cornerand watched the yellow sun, Beta, rise rapidly above the low skyline.The nearby sea was at high tide now, under the pull of the major sunand the three moons, and the stiff breeze carried a mist of salt spray.     Retief turned up his collar against the dampness. In half an hour hewould be perspiring under the vertical rays of a third-noon sun, butthe thought failed to keep the chill off.     Two Youths clambered up on the platform, moving purposefully towardRetief. He moved off the rail, watching them, weight balanced.     That's close enough, kids, he said. Plenty of room on this scow. Noneed to crowd up.     There are certain films, the lead Fustian muttered. His voice wasunusually deep for a Youth. He was wrapped in a heavy cloak and movedawkwardly. His adolescence was nearly at an end, Retief guessed.     I told you once, said Retief. Don't crowd me.     The two stepped close, slit mouths snapping in anger. Retief put out afoot, hooked it behind the scaly leg of the overaged juvenile and threwhis weight against the cloaked chest. The clumsy Fustian tottered, fellheavily. Retief was past him and off the flat-car before the otherYouth had completed his vain lunge toward the spot Retief had occupied.The Terrestrial waved cheerfully at the pair, hopped aboard anothervehicle, watched his would-be assailants lumber down from their car,tiny heads twisted to follow his retreating figure.     So they wanted the film? Retief reflected, thumbing a cigar alight.They were a little late. He had already filed it in the Embassy vault,after running a copy for the reference files.     And a comparison of the drawings with those of the obsolete Mark XXXVbattle cruiser used two hundred years earlier by the Concordiat NavalArm showed them to be almost identical, gun emplacements and all. Theterm obsolete was a relative one. A ship which had been outmoded inthe armories of the Galactic Powers could still be king of the walk inthe Eastern Arm.     But how had these two known of the film? There had been no one presentbut himself and the old-timer—and he was willing to bet the elderlyFustian hadn't told them anything.     At least not willingly....     Retief frowned, dropped the cigar over the side, waited until theflat-car negotiated a mud-wallow, then swung down and headed for theshipyard.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What does the term melting sickness refer to in CONTAGION?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What standards of health safety are adhered to by the Explorer members in CONTAGION? [SEP] <s>The Vinzz had been locking antennae with another of his kind. Now theydetached, and the first approached the man once more. There is, as ithappens, a body available for a private game, he lisped. No questionsto be asked or answered. All I can tell you is that it is in goodhealth.     The man hesitated. But unable to pass the screening? he murmuredaloud. A criminal then.     The green one's face—if you could call it a face—remained impassive.     Male?     Of course, the Vinzz said primly. His kind did have certain ultimatestandards to which they adhered rigidly, and one of those was thecurious tabu against mixed games, strictly enforced even though itkept them from tapping a vast source of potential players. There hadalso never been a recorded instance of humans and extraterrestrialsexchanging identities, but whether that was the result of tabu orbiological impossibility, no one could tell.     It might merely be prudence on the Vinzz' part—if it had everbeen proved that an alien life-form had desecrated a human body,Earthmen would clamor for war ... for on this planet humanity heldits self-bestowed purity of birthright dear—and the Vinzz, despitebeing unquestionably the stronger, were pragmatic pacifists. It hadbeen undoubtedly some rabid member of the anti-alien groups active onTerra who had started the rumor that the planetary slogan of Vinau was,Don't beat 'em; cheat 'em.     It would have to be something pretty nuclear for the other guy to takesuch a risk. The man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. How much?     Thirty thousand credits.     Why, that's three times the usual rate!     The other will pay five times the usual rate.     Oh, all right, the delicate young man gave in. It was a terrificrisk he was agreeing to take, because, if the other was a criminal, hehimself would, upon assuming the body, assume responsibility for allthe crimes it had committed. But there was nothing else he could do.  <doc-sep>For me, it was a nightmare. I lay down in my cabin and thought. I hadto think things through very carefully. One mistake was too many forme. My worst fear had been that someday I would overlook one tiny flawand ruin a gem. Now I might have ruined an exploration and destroyed aman, not a stone, because I had missed the flaw.     No one but a reckless fool would have gone out alone on a strangeplanet with a terrifying phenomenon, but I'd had enough evidence to seethat space exploration      made     a man a reckless fool by doing things onone planet he had once found safe and wise on some other world.     The thought intruded itself:      why     hadn't I recognized this before Ilet Quade escape to almost certain death? Wasn't it because I wantedhim dead, because I resented the crew's resentment of my authority, andrecognized in him the leader and symbol of this resentment?     I threw away that idea along with my half-used cigarette. It might verywell be true, but how did that help now?     I had to      think     .     I was going after him, that was certain. Not only for humanereasons—he was the most important member of the crew. With him around,there were only two opinions, his and mine. Without him, I'd haveendless opinions to contend with.     But it wouldn't do any good to go out no better equipped than he.There was no time to wait for tractors to be built if we wanted toreach him alive, and we certainly couldn't reach him five or tenmiles out with our three miles of safety line. We would have to go inspacesuits.     But how would that leave us any better off than Quade?     Why was Quade vulnerable in his spacesuit, as I knew from experience hewould be?     How could we be less vulnerable, or preferably invulnerable?  <doc-sep>   CONTAGION     By KATHERINE MacLEAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction October 1950.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Minos was such a lovely planet. Not a     thing seemed wrong with it. Excepting the food,     perhaps. And a disease that wasn't really.      It was like an Earth forest in the fall, but it was not fall. Theforest leaves were green and copper and purple and fiery red, and awind sent patches of bright greenish sunlight dancing among the leafshadows.     The hunt party of the      Explorer     filed along the narrow trail, gunsready, walking carefully, listening to the distant, half familiar criesof strange birds.     A faint crackle of static in their earphones indicated that a gun hadbeen fired.     Got anything? asked June Walton. The helmet intercom carried hervoice to the ears of the others without breaking the stillness of theforest.     Took a shot at something, explained George Barton's cheerful voicein her earphones. She rounded a bend of the trail and came upon Bartonstanding peering up into the trees, his gun still raised. It lookedlike a duck.     This isn't Central Park, said Hal Barton, his brother, coming intosight. His green spacesuit struck an incongruous note against thebronze and red forest. They won't all look like ducks, he saidsoberly.     Maybe some will look like dragons. Don't get eaten by a dragon,June, came Max's voice quietly into her earphones. Not while I stilllove you. He came out of the trees carrying the blood sample kit, andtouched her glove with his, the grin on his ugly beloved face barelyvisible in the mingled light and shade. A patch of sunlight struck agreenish glint from his fishbowl helmet.  <doc-sep>May I go aboard? Pat asked hopefully.     Max unslung the specimen kit from his shoulder, laid it on the carpetof plants that covered the ground and began to open it.     Tests first, Hal Barton said. We have to find out if you peoplestill carry this so-called melting sickness. We'll have to de-microbeyou and take specimens before we let you on board. Once on, you'll beno good as a check for what the other Meads might have.     Max was taking out a rack and a stand of preservative bottles andhypodermics.     Are you going to jab me with those? Pat asked with interest.     You're just a specimen animal to me, bud! Max grinned at Pat Mead,and Pat grinned back. June saw that they were friends already, thetall pantherish colonist, and the wry, black-haired doctor. She felt astab of guilt because she loved Max and yet could pity him for beingsmaller and frailer than Pat Mead.     Lie down, Max told him, and hold still. We need two spinal fluidsamples from the back, a body cavity one in front, and another from thearm.     Pat lay down obediently. Max knelt, and, as he spoke, expertly swabbedand inserted needles with the smooth speed that had made him a finenerve surgeon on Earth.     High above them the scout helioplane came out of an opening in the shipand angled off toward the west, its buzz diminishing. Then, suddenly,it veered and headed back, and Reno Unrich's voice came tinnily fromtheir earphones:     What's that you've got? Hey, what are you docs doing down there? Hebanked again and came to a stop, hovering fifty feet away. June couldsee his startled face looking through the glass at Pat.     Hal Barton switched to a narrow radio beam, explained rapidly andpointed in the direction of Alexandria. Reno's plane lifted and flewaway over the odd-colored forest.     The plane will drop a note on your town, telling them you gotthrough to us, Hal Barton told Pat, who was sitting up watching Maxdexterously put the blood and spinal fluids into the right bottleswithout exposing them to air.     We won't be free to contact your people until we know if they stillcarry melting sickness, Max added. You might be immune so it doesn'tshow on you, but still carry enough germs—if that's what caused it—towipe out a planet.     If you do carry melting sickness, said Hal Barton, we won't be ableto mingle with your people until we've cleared them of the disease.     Starting with me? Pat asked.     Starting with you, Max told him ruefully, as soon as you step onboard.     More needles?     Yes, and a few little extras thrown in.     Rough?     It isn't easy.     A few minutes later, standing in the stalls for spacesuitdecontamination, being buffeted by jets of hot disinfectant, bathed inglares of sterilizing ultraviolet radiation, June remembered that andcompared Pat Mead's treatment to theirs.     In the      Explorer     , stored carefully in sealed tanks and containers,was the ultimate, multi-purpose cureall. It was a solution of enzymesso like the key catalysts of the human cell nucleus that it causedchemical derangement and disintegration in any non-human cell. Nothingcould live in contact with it but human cells; any alien intruder tothe body would die. Nucleocat Cureall was its trade name.     But the cureall alone was not enough for complete safety. Plagues hadbeen known to slay too rapidly and universally to be checked by humantreatment. Doctors are not reliable; they die. Therefore spaceways andinterplanetary health law demanded that ship equipment for guardingagainst disease be totally mechanical in operation, rapid and efficient.     Somewhere near them, in a series of stalls which led around andaround like a rabbit maze, Pat was being herded from stall to stallby peremptory mechanical voices, directed to soap and shower, orderedto insert his arm into a slot which took a sample of his blood, givensolutions to drink, bathed in germicidal ultraviolet, shaken by sonicblasts, breathing air thick with sprays of germicidal mists, beingdirected to put his arms into other slots where they were anesthesizedand injected with various immunizing solutions.     Finally, he would be put in a room of high temperature and extremedryness, and instructed to sit for half an hour while more fluids weredripped into his veins through long thin tubes.     All legal spaceships were built for safety. No chance was taken ofallowing a suspected carrier to bring an infection on board with him.  <doc-sep>They walked on. A quarter of a mile back, the space ship      Explorer     towered over the forest like a tapering skyscraper, and the people ofthe ship looked out of the viewplates at fresh winds and sunlight andclouds, and they longed to be outside.     But the likeness to Earth was danger, and the cool wind might be death,for if the animals were like Earth animals, their diseases might belike Earth diseases, alike enough to be contagious, different enough tobe impossible to treat. There was warning enough in the past. Colonieshad vanished, and traveled spaceways drifted with the corpses of shipswhich had touched on some plague planet.     The people of the ship waited while their doctors, in airtightspacesuits, hunted animals to test them for contagion.     The four medicos, for June Walton was also a doctor, filed through thealien homelike forest, walking softly, watching for motion among thecopper and purple shadows.     They saw it suddenly, a lighter moving copper patch among the darkerbrowns. Reflex action swung June's gun into line, and behind hersomeone's gun went off with a faint crackle of static, and made a holein the leaves beside the specimen. Then for a while no one moved.     This one looked like a man, a magnificently muscled, leanly graceful,humanlike animal. Even in its callused bare feet, it was a head tallerthan any of them. Red-haired, hawk-faced and darkly tanned, it stoodbreathing heavily, looking at them without expression. At its side hunga sheath knife, and a crossbow was slung across one wide shoulder.     They lowered their guns.     It needs a shave, Max said reasonably in their earphones, and hereached up to his helmet and flipped the switch that let his voice beheard. Something we could do for you, Mac?     The friendly drawl was the first voice that had broken the forestsounds. June smiled suddenly. He was right. The strict logic ofevolution did not demand beards; therefore a non-human would not bewearing a three day growth of red stubble.     Still panting, the tall figure licked dry lips and spoke. Welcome toMinos. The Mayor sends greetings from Alexandria.     English? gasped June.     We were afraid you would take off again before I could bring word toyou.... It's three hundred miles.... We saw your scout plane passtwice, but we couldn't attract its attention.  <doc-sep>   SPACEMAN ON A SPREE     BY MACK REYNOLDS     Illustrated by Nodel     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of Tomorrow June 1963     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      What's more important—Man's conquest     of space, or one spaceman's life?      I     They gave him a gold watch. It was meant to be symbolical, of course.In the old tradition. It was in the way of an antique, being one of thetimepieces made generations past in the Alpine area of Eur-Asia. Itsquaintness lay in the fact that it was wound, not electronically bypower-radio, but by the actual physical movements of the bearer, a freeswinging rotor keeping the mainspring at a constant tension.     They also had a banquet for him, complete with speeches by suchbigwigs of the Department of Space Exploration as Academician LoftingGubelin and Doctor Hans Girard-Perregaux. There was also somebodyfrom the government who spoke, but he was one of those who werepseudo-elected and didn't know much about the field of space travelnor the significance of Seymour Pond's retirement. Si didn't bother toremember his name. He only wondered vaguely why the cloddy had turnedup at all.     In common with recipients of gold watches of a score of generationsbefore him, Si Pond would have preferred something a bit more tangiblein the way of reward, such as a few shares of Variable Basic to add tohis portfolio. But that, he supposed, was asking too much.     The fact of the matter was, Si knew that his retiring had set themback. They hadn't figured he had enough shares of Basic to see himthrough decently. Well, possibly he didn't, given their standards.But Space Pilot Seymour Pond didn't have their standards. He'd hadplenty of time to think it over. It was better to retire on a limitedcrediting, on a confoundedly limited crediting, than to take the two orthree more trips in hopes of attaining a higher standard.     He'd had plenty of time to figure it out, there alone in space on theMoon run, there on the Venus or Mars runs. There on the long, longhaul to the Jupiter satellites, fearfully checking the symptoms ofspace cafard, the madness compounded of claustrophobia, monotony,boredom and free fall. Plenty of time. Time to decide that a oneroom mini-auto-apartment, complete with an autochair and built-inautobar, and with one wall a teevee screen, was all he needed tofind contentment for a mighty long time. Possibly somebody likeDoc Girard-Perregaux might be horrified at the idea of living in amini-auto-apartment ... not realizing that to a pilot it was roomybeyond belief compared to the conning tower of a space craft.     No. Even as Si listened to their speeches, accepted the watch andmade a halting little talk of his own, he was grinning inwardly. Therewasn't anything they could do. He had them now. He had enough Basic tokeep him comfortably, by his standards, for the rest of his life. Hewas never going to subject himself to space cafard again. Just thinkingabout it, now, set the tic to going at the side of his mouth.     They could count down and blast off, for all he gave a damn.  <doc-sep>He looked at himself in the mirror and found he had a fine new body;tall and strikingly handsome in a dark, coarse-featured way. Nothing tomatch the one he had lost, in his opinion, but there were probably manypeople who might find this one preferable. No identification in thepockets, but it wasn't necessary; he recognized the face. Not that itwas a very famous or even notorious one, but the dutchman was a carefulstudent of the wanted fax that had decorated public buildings fromtime immemorial, for he was ever mindful of the possibility that hemight one day find himself trapped unwittingly in the body of one ofthe men depicted there. And he knew that this particular man, thoughnot an important criminal in any sense of the word, was one whom thepolice had been ordered to burn on sight. The abolishing of capitalpunishment could not abolish the necessity for self-defense, and theman in question was not one who would let himself be captured easily,nor whom the police intended to capture easily.       This might be a lucky break for me after all     , the new tenant thought,as he tried to adjust himself to the body. It, too, despite its obviousrude health, was not a very comfortable fit.      I can do a lot with ahulk like this. And maybe I'm cleverer than the original owner; maybeI'll be able to get away with it.        IV     Look, Gabe, the girl said, don't try to fool me! I know youtoo well. And I know you have that man's—the real GabrielLockard's—body. She put unnecessary stardust on her nose as shewatched her husband's reflection in the dressing table mirror.     Lockard—Lockard's body, at any rate—sat up and felt his unshavenchin. That what he tell you?     No, he didn't tell me anything really—just suggested I ask youwhatever I want to know. But why else should he guard somebody heobviously hates the way he hates you? Only because he doesn't want tosee his body spoiled.     It      is     a pretty good body, isn't it? Gabe flexed softening musclesand made no attempt to deny her charge; very probably he was relievedat having someone with whom to share his secret.     Not as good as it must have been, the girl said, turning and lookingat him without admiration. Not if you keep on the way you're coursing.Gabe, why don't you...?     Give it back to him, eh? Lockard regarded his wife appraisingly.You'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd be      his     wife then. That would benice—a sound mind in a sound body. But don't you think that's a littlemore than you deserve?     I wasn't thinking about that, Gabe, she said truthfully enough, forshe hadn't followed the idea to its logical conclusion. Of course I'dgo with you, she went on, now knowing she lied, when you got your ...old body back.       Sure     , she thought,      I'd keep going with you to farjeen houses andthrill-mills.     Actually she had accompanied him to a thrill-mill onlyonce, and from then on, despite all his threats, she had refused to gowith him again. But that once had been enough; nothing could ever washthat experience from her mind or her body.     You wouldn't be able to get your old body back, though, would you?she went on. You don't know where it's gone, and neither, I suppose,does he?     I don't want to know! he spat. I wouldn't want it if I could getit back. Whoever it adhered to probably killed himself as soon as helooked in a mirror. He swung long legs over the side of his bed.Christ, anything would be better than that! You can't imagine what ahulk I had!     Oh, yes, I can, she said incautiously. You must have had a body tomatch your character. Pity you could only change one.  <doc-sep>I drew myself up to my full height—and noticed in irritation it wasstill an inch less than Quade's. I don't understand you men. Look atyourself, Quade. You've been busted to Ordinary Spaceman for just thatkind of thinking, for relying on tradition, on things that have workedbefore. Not only your thinking is slipshod, you've grown careless abouteverything else, even your own life.     Just a minute, Captain. I've never been 'busted.' In the ExplorationService, we regard Ordinary Spaceman as our highest rank. With myhazard pay, I get more hard cash than      you     do, and I'm closer toretirement.     That's a shallow excuse for complacency.     Complacency! I've seen ten thousand wonders in twenty years of space,with a million variations. But the patterns repeat themselves. We learnto know what to expect, so maybe we can't maintain the reactionarycaution the service likes in officers.     I resent the word 'reactionary,' Spaceman! In civilian life, I wasa lapidary and I learned the value of deliberation. But I never gottoo cataleptic to tap a million-dollar gem, which is more than mycontemporaries can say, many of 'em.     Captain Gavin, Quade said patiently, you must realize that anoutsider like you, among a crew of skilled spacemen, can never be morethan a figurehead.     Was this the way I was to be treated? Why, this man had deliberatelyinsulted me, his captain. I controlled myself, remembering thefamiliarity that had always existed between members of a crew workingunder close conditions, from the time of the ancient submarines and thefirst orbital ships.     Quade, I said, there's only one way for us to find out which of usis right about the cause of our scanning blackout.     We go out and find the reason.     Exactly. We go. You and me. I hope you can stand my company.     I'm not sure I can, he answered reluctantly. My hazard pay doesn'tcover exploring with rookies. With all due respect, Captain.     I clapped him on the shoulder. But, man, you have just been tellingme all we had to worry about was common transphasia. A man with yourexperience could protect himself and cover even a rookie, under suchfamiliar conditions—right?     Yes, sir, I suppose I could, Quade said, bitterly aware he had lostout somewhere and hoping that it wasn't the start of a trend.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What standards of health safety are adhered to by the Explorer members in CONTAGION?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the backdrop of the CONTAGION tale? [SEP] <s>   CONTAGION     By KATHERINE MacLEAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction October 1950.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Minos was such a lovely planet. Not a     thing seemed wrong with it. Excepting the food,     perhaps. And a disease that wasn't really.      It was like an Earth forest in the fall, but it was not fall. Theforest leaves were green and copper and purple and fiery red, and awind sent patches of bright greenish sunlight dancing among the leafshadows.     The hunt party of the      Explorer     filed along the narrow trail, gunsready, walking carefully, listening to the distant, half familiar criesof strange birds.     A faint crackle of static in their earphones indicated that a gun hadbeen fired.     Got anything? asked June Walton. The helmet intercom carried hervoice to the ears of the others without breaking the stillness of theforest.     Took a shot at something, explained George Barton's cheerful voicein her earphones. She rounded a bend of the trail and came upon Bartonstanding peering up into the trees, his gun still raised. It lookedlike a duck.     This isn't Central Park, said Hal Barton, his brother, coming intosight. His green spacesuit struck an incongruous note against thebronze and red forest. They won't all look like ducks, he saidsoberly.     Maybe some will look like dragons. Don't get eaten by a dragon,June, came Max's voice quietly into her earphones. Not while I stilllove you. He came out of the trees carrying the blood sample kit, andtouched her glove with his, the grin on his ugly beloved face barelyvisible in the mingled light and shade. A patch of sunlight struck agreenish glint from his fishbowl helmet.  <doc-sep>    A grim tale of a future in which everyone is desperate to escapereality, and a hero who wants to have his wine and drink it, too.       A BOTTLE OF       Old Wine       By Richard O. Lewis     Illustrated by KELLY FREAS  <doc-sep>They walked on. A quarter of a mile back, the space ship      Explorer     towered over the forest like a tapering skyscraper, and the people ofthe ship looked out of the viewplates at fresh winds and sunlight andclouds, and they longed to be outside.     But the likeness to Earth was danger, and the cool wind might be death,for if the animals were like Earth animals, their diseases might belike Earth diseases, alike enough to be contagious, different enough tobe impossible to treat. There was warning enough in the past. Colonieshad vanished, and traveled spaceways drifted with the corpses of shipswhich had touched on some plague planet.     The people of the ship waited while their doctors, in airtightspacesuits, hunted animals to test them for contagion.     The four medicos, for June Walton was also a doctor, filed through thealien homelike forest, walking softly, watching for motion among thecopper and purple shadows.     They saw it suddenly, a lighter moving copper patch among the darkerbrowns. Reflex action swung June's gun into line, and behind hersomeone's gun went off with a faint crackle of static, and made a holein the leaves beside the specimen. Then for a while no one moved.     This one looked like a man, a magnificently muscled, leanly graceful,humanlike animal. Even in its callused bare feet, it was a head tallerthan any of them. Red-haired, hawk-faced and darkly tanned, it stoodbreathing heavily, looking at them without expression. At its side hunga sheath knife, and a crossbow was slung across one wide shoulder.     They lowered their guns.     It needs a shave, Max said reasonably in their earphones, and hereached up to his helmet and flipped the switch that let his voice beheard. Something we could do for you, Mac?     The friendly drawl was the first voice that had broken the forestsounds. June smiled suddenly. He was right. The strict logic ofevolution did not demand beards; therefore a non-human would not bewearing a three day growth of red stubble.     Still panting, the tall figure licked dry lips and spoke. Welcome toMinos. The Mayor sends greetings from Alexandria.     English? gasped June.     We were afraid you would take off again before I could bring word toyou.... It's three hundred miles.... We saw your scout plane passtwice, but we couldn't attract its attention.  <doc-sep>  THE GIANTS RETURN     By ROBERT ABERNATHY     Earth set itself grimly to meet them with     corrosive fire, determined to blast them     back to the stars. But they erred in thinking     the Old Ones were too big to be clever.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      In the last hours the star ahead had grown brighter by many magnitudes,and had changed its color from a dazzling blue through white to thenormal yellow, of a GO sun. That was the Doppler effect as the star'sradial velocity changed relative to the      Quest III     , as for forty hoursthe ship had decelerated.     They had seen many such stars come near out of the galaxy's glitteringbackdrop, and had seen them dwindle, turn red and go out as the      QuestIII     drove on its way once more, lashed by despair toward the speed oflight, leaving behind the mockery of yet another solitary and lifelessluminary unaccompanied by worlds where men might dwell. They had grownsated with the sight of wonders—of multiple systems of giant stars, ofnebulae that sprawled in empty flame across light years.     But now unwonted excitement possessed the hundred-odd members of the      Quest III's     crew. It was a subdued excitement; men and women, theycame and stood quietly gazing into the big vision screens that showedthe oncoming star, and there were wide-eyed children who had been bornin the ship and had never seen a planet. The grownups talked in lowvoices, in tones of mingled eagerness and apprehension, of what mightlie at the long journey's end. For the      Quest III     was coming home; thesun ahead was      the     Sun, whose rays had warmed their lives' beginning.  <doc-sep>For some twenty minutes, he raced through a dizzying, nightmare worldof dark rocketfront alleys and shouting voices and pursuing feet.     At last, abruptly, he realized that he was alone and in silence. He sawthat he was still on the rocketfront, but in the Tycho-ward side of thecity.     He huddled in a dark corner of a loading platform and lit a cigarette.A thousand stars—a thousand motionless balls of silver fire—shoneabove him through Luna City's transparent dome.     He was sorry he'd hit Cobb, of course. He was not sorry he'd run.Escaping at least gave him a power of choice, of decision.       You can do two things     , he thought.       You can give yourself up, and that's what a good officer would do.That would eliminate the escape charge. You'd get off with voluntarymanslaughter. Under interplanetary law, that would mean ten years inprison and a dishonorable discharge. And then you'd be free.         But you'd be through with rockets and space. They don't want newmen over thirty-four for officers on rockets or even for third-classjet-men on beat-up freighters—they don't want convicted killers. You'dget the rest of the thrill of conquering space through video and bypeeking through electric fences of spaceports.         Or—       There were old wives' tales of a group of renegade spacemen whooperated from the Solar System's frontiers. The spacemen weren'toutlaws. They were misfits, rejectees from the clearing houses on Earth.     And whereas no legally recognized ship had ventured past Mars, thesouped-up renegade rigs had supposedly hit the asteroids. Theirheadquarters was Venus. Their leader—a subject of popular andfantastic conjecture in the men's audiozines—was rumored to be ared-bearded giant.       So     , Ben reflected,      you can take a beer-and-pretzels tale seriously.You can hide for a couple of days, get rid of your uniform, change yourname. You can wait for a chance to get to Venus. To hell with yourduty. You can try to stay in space, even if you exile yourself fromEarth.       After all, was it right for a single second, a single insignificantsecond, to destroy a man's life and his dream?  <doc-sep>Reno was pleased. He had dabbled in sociology before retraining as amechanic for the expedition. This gives me a chance to study theirmores. He winked wickedly. I may not be back for several nights.They watched through the viewplate as he took off, and then went overto the laboratory for a look at the hamsters.     Three were alive and healthy, munching lettuce. One was the control;the other two had been given shots of Pat's blood from before heentered the ship, but with no additional treatment. Apparently ahamster could fight off melting sickness easily if left alone. Threewere still feverish and ruffled, with a low red blood count, butrecovering. The three dead ones had been given strong shots of adaptiveand counter histamine, so their bodies had not fought back against theattack.     June glanced at the dead animals hastily and looked away again.They lay twisted with a strange semi-fluid limpness, as if ready todissolve. The last hamster, which had been given the heaviest doseof adaptive, had apparently lost all its hair before death. It washairless and pink, like a still-born baby.     We can find no micro-organisms, George Barton said. None at all.Nothing in the body that should not be there. Leucosis and anemia.Fever only for the ones that fought it off. He handed Max sometemperature charts and graphs of blood counts.     June wandered out into the hall. Pediatrics and obstetrics were herfield; she left the cellular research to Max, and just helped him withlaboratory routine. The strange mood followed her out into the hall,then abruptly lightened.     Coming toward her, busily telling a tale of adventure to the gorgeousShelia Davenport, was a tall, red-headed, magnificently handsome man.It was his handsomeness which made Pat such a pleasure to look uponand talk with, she guiltily told herself, and it was his tremendousvitality.... It was like meeting a movie hero in the flesh, or a heroout of the pages of a book—Deer-slayer, John Clayton, Lord Greystoke.     She waited in the doorway to the laboratory and made no move to jointhem, merely acknowledged the two with a nod and a smile and a casuallift of the hand. They nodded and smiled back.     Hello, June, said Pat and continued telling his tale, but as theypassed he lightly touched her arm.     Oh, pioneer! she said mockingly and softly to his passing profile,and knew that he had heard.  <doc-sep>Earth was not far below him. As he let gravity suck him earthward, heheaved a gasp of relief. He was no longer Thig, a creature of a Horde'screation, but Lewis Terry, writer of lurid gun-smoking tales of theWest. He must remember that always. He had destroyed the real Terry andnow, for the rest of his life, he must make up to the dead man's family.     The knowledge that Ellen's love was not really meant for him would bea knife twisting in his heart but for her sake he must endure it. Herdreams and happiness must never be shattered.     The bulge of Earth was flattening out now and he could see the outlinesof Long Island in the growing twilight.     A new plot was growing in the brain of Lewis Terry, a yarn about acowboy suddenly transported to another world. He smiled ironically.He had seen those other worlds. Perhaps some day he would write aboutthem....     He was Lewis Terry! He must remember that!   <doc-sep>   The Sense of Wonder     By MILTON LESSER     Illustrated by HARRY ROSENBAUM     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      When nobody aboard ship remembers where it's     going, how can they tell when it has arrived?      Every day for a week now, Rikud had come to the viewport to watchthe great changeless sweep of space. He could not quite explain thefeelings within him; they were so alien, so unnatural. But ever sincethe engines somewhere in the rear of the world had changed their tone,from the steady whining Rikud had heard all twenty-five years of hislife, to the sullen roar that came to his ears now, the feelings hadgrown.     If anyone else had noticed the change, he failed to mention it. Thisdisturbed Rikud, although he could not tell why. And, because he hadrealized this odd difference in himself, he kept it locked up insidehim.     Today, space looked somehow different. The stars—it was a meaninglessconcept to Rikud, but that was what everyone called the brightpinpoints of light on the black backdrop in the viewport—were notapparent in the speckled profusion Rikud had always known. Instead,there was more of the blackness, and one very bright star set apartby itself in the middle of the viewport.     If he had understood the term, Rikud would have told himself this wasodd. His head ached with the half-born thought. It was—it was—whatwas it?     Someone was clomping up the companionway behind Rikud. He turned andgreeted gray-haired old Chuls.     In five more years, the older man chided, you'll be ready to sirechildren. And all you can do in the meantime is gaze out at the stars.     Rikud knew he should be exercising now, or bathing in the rays of thehealth-lamps. It had never occurred to him that he didn't feel like it;he just didn't, without comprehending.     Chuls' reminder fostered uneasiness. Often Rikud had dreamed of thetime he would be thirty and a father. Whom would the Calculator selectas his mate? The first time this idea had occurred to him, Rikudignored it. But it came again, and each time it left him with a feelinghe could not explain. Why should he think thoughts that no other manhad? Why should he think he was thinking such thoughts, when it alwaysembroiled him in a hopeless, infinite confusion that left him with aheadache?     Chuls said, It is time for my bath in the health-rays. I saw you hereand knew it was your time, too....     His voice trailed off. Rikud knew that something which he could notexplain had entered the elder man's head for a moment, but it haddeparted almost before Chuls knew of its existence.     I'll go with you, Rikud told him.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the backdrop of the CONTAGION tale?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in THE CREATURES THAT TIME FORGOT? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>Joyce glared at him furiously. Four! Act your age! We've got to dosomething with him. It's preposterous that we should be detained hereat the whim of a mere blob!     I don't figure it's a whim, Grampa said. Circular gravity is whathe's got to have for one reason or another, so he just naturally bendsthe space-time continuum around him—conscious or subconscious, I don'tknow. But protoplasm is always more efficient than machines, so theflivver won't move.     I don't care why that thing does it, Joyce said icily. I want itstopped, and the sooner the better. If it won't turn the gravity off,we'll just have to do away with it.     How? asked Four. Fweep's skin is pretty close to impervious andyou can't shoot him, stab him or poison him. He doesn't breathe, soyou can't drown or strangle him. You can't imprison him; he 'eats'everything. And violence might be more dangerous to us than to him.Right now, Fweep is friendly, but suppose he got mad! He could lowerhis radioactive shield or he might increase the gravity by a few times.Either way, you'd feel rather uncomfortable, Grammy.     Don't call me 'Grammy!' Well, what are we going to do, just sit aroundand wait for that thing to die?     We'd have a long wait, Four observed. Fweep is the only one of hiskind on this planet.     Well?     Probably he's immortal.     And he doesn't reproduce? Reba asked sympathetically.     Probably not. If he doesn't die, there's no point in reproduction.Reproduction is nature's way of providing racial immortality to mortalcreatures.     But he must have some way of reproduction, Reba argued. An egg orsomething. He couldn't just have sprung into being as he is now.     Maybe he developed, Four offered. It seems to me that he's biggerthan when we first landed. He must have been here a long, long time,Fred said. Fweepland, as Four calls it, kept its atmosphere and itswater, which a planet this size ordinarily would have lost by now.  <doc-sep>Hatcher hurried through the halls of the great buried structure inwhich he worked, toward the place where the supervising council of allprobes would be in permanent session. They admitted him at once.     Hatcher identified himself and gave a quick, concise report:     The subject recovered consciousness a short time ago and began toinspect his enclosure. His method of doing so was to put his ownmembers in physical contact with the various objects in the enclosure.After observing him do this for a time we concluded he might be unableto see and so we illuminated his field of vision for him.     This appeared to work well for a time. He seemed relativelyundisturbed. However, he then reverted to physical-contact,manipulating certain appurtenances of an artificial skin we hadprovided for him.     He then began to vibrate the atmosphere by means of resonating organsin his breathing passage.     Simultaneously, the object he was holding, attached to the artificialskin, was discovered to be generating paranormal forces.     The supervising council rocked with excitement. You're sure? demandedone of the councilmen.     Yes, sir. The staff is preparing a technical description of the forcesnow, but I can say that they are electromagnetic vibrations modulatinga carrier wave of very high speed, and in turn modulated by thevibrations of the atmosphere caused by the subject's own breathing.     Fantastic, breathed the councillor, in a tone of dawning hope. Howabout communicating with him, Hatcher? Any progress?     Well ... not much, sir. He suddenly panicked. We don't know why; butwe thought we'd better pull back and let him recover for a while.     The council conferred among itself for a moment, Hatcher waiting. Itwas not really a waste of time for him; with the organs he had left inthe probe-team room, he was in fairly close touch with what was goingon—knew that McCray was once again fumbling among the objects in thedark, knew that the team-members had tried illuminating the room forhim briefly and again produced the rising panic.     Still, Hatcher fretted. He wanted to get back.     Stop fidgeting, commanded the council leader abruptly. Hatcher, youare to establish communication at once.     But, sir.... Hatcher swung closer, his thick skin quivering slightly;he would have gestured if he had brought members with him to gesturewith. We've done everything we dare. We've made the place homeyfor him— actually, what he said was more like,      we've warmed thebiophysical nuances of his enclosure     —and tried to guess his needs;and we're frightening him half to death. We      can't     go faster. Thiscreature is in no way similar to us, you know. He relies on paranormalforces—heat, light, kinetic energy—for his life. His chemistry is notours, his processes of thought are not ours, his entire organism iscloser to the inanimate rocks of a sea-bottom than to ourselves.     Understood, Hatcher. In your first report you stated these creatureswere intelligent.     Yes, sir. But not in our way.     But in      a     way, and you must learn that way. I know. One lobster-clawshaped member drifted close to the councillor's body and raised itselfin an admonitory gesture. You want time. But we don't have time,Hatcher. Yours is not the only probe team working. The Central Massesteam has just turned in a most alarming report.     Have they secured a subject? Hatcher demanded jealously.     The councillor paused. Worse than that, Hatcher. I am afraid theirsubjects have secured one of them. One of them is missing.     There was a moment's silence. Frozen, Hatcher could only wait. Thecouncil room was like a tableau in a museum until the councillor spokeagain, each council member poised over his locus-point, his membersdrifting about him.     Finally the councillor said, I speak for all of us, I think. If theOld Ones have seized one of our probers our time margin is considerablynarrowed. Indeed, we may not have any time at all. You must doeverything you can to establish communication with your subject.     But the danger to the specimen— Hatcher protested automatically.     —is no greater, said the councillor, than the danger to every oneof us if we do not find allies      now     .  <doc-sep>  He was  still weak days later whenCapt. Ron Small of SP-101 said,     Yes, Karyl, it's ironical. They fed youwhat they thought was sure death, and it'sthe only thing that kept you going longenough to warn us.     I was dumb for a long time, Karyl said.I thought that it was the acid, almost tothe very last. But when I drank that lastglass, I knew they didn't have a chance.     They were metal monsters. No wonderthey feared that liquid. It would rust theirjoints, short their wiring, and kill them.No wonder they stared when I kept aliveafter drinking enough to completely annihilatea half-dozen of them.     But what happened when you met theship?     The space captain grinned.     Not much. Our crew was busy creatinga hollow shell filled with      water     to be shotout of a rocket tube converted into a projectilethrower.     These Steel-Blues, as you call them, puttraction beams on us and started tugging ustoward the asteroid. We tried a couple ofatomic shots but when they just glanced off,we gave up.     They weren't expecting the shell ofwater. When it hit that blue ship, you couldalmost see it oxidize before your eyes.     I guess they knew what was wrong rightaway. They let go the traction beams andtried to get away. They forgot about theforce field, so we just poured atomic fireinto the weakening ship. It just meltedaway.     Jon Karyl got up from the divan wherehe'd been lying. They thought I was ametal creature, too. But where do you supposethey came from?     The captain shrugged. Who knows?     Jon set two glasses on the table.     Have a drink of the best damn water inthe solar system? He asked Capt. Small.     Don't mind if I do.     The water twinkled in the two glasses,winking as if it knew just what it haddone.     Transcriber's Note:   This etext was produced from    Planet Stories   July 1952.Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling andtypographical errors have been corrected without note.<doc-sep>Tonight is our last night at      TheSpace Room     . Goon-Face is scowlingagain with the icy fury of aPlutonian monsoon. As Goon-Facehas said, No beeg feedle, no contract.     Without John, we're notes in alost chord.     We've searched everything, inhospitals, morgues, jails, night clubs,hotels. We've hounded spaceportsand 'copter terminals. Nowhere, nowhereis John Smith.     Ziggy, whose two fingers havehealed, has already bowed to whatseems inevitable. He's signed up forthat trip to Neptune's uraniumpits. There's plenty of room formore volunteers, he tells us. But Ispend my time cussing the guy whoforgot to set the force field at theother end of the hole and let Johnand his      Zloomph     back into his owntime dimension. I cuss harder whenI think how we were robbed of thebest bass player in the galaxy.     And without a corpus delecti wecan't even sue the city.       ... THE END    <doc-sep>The lady drew herself up and jutted an indignant brow at him. Sir!This is a church!     Oh—I see—excuse me, I, I, I— Matheny backed out of the crowd,shuddering. He looked around for some place to hide his burning ears.     You forgot your chips, pal, said a voice.     Oh. Thanks. Thanks ever so much. I, I, that is— Matheny cursedhis knotting tongue.      Damn it, just because they're so much moresophisticated than I, do I have to talk like a leaky boiler?       The helpful Earthman was not tall. He was dark and chisel-faced andsleekly pomaded, dapper in blue pajamas with a red zigzag, a sleighbellcloak and curly-toed slippers.     You're from Mars, aren't you? he asked in the friendliest toneMatheny had yet heard.     Yes. Yes, I am. M-my name's Peter Matheny. I, I— He stuck out hishand to shake and chips rolled over the floor. Damn! Oh, excuse me, Iforgot this was a church. Never mind the chips. No, please. I just wantto g-g-get the hell out of here.     Good idea. How about a drink? I know a bar downshaft.     Matheny sighed. A drink is what I need the very most.     My name's Doran. Gus Doran. Call me Gus.     They walked back to the deaconette's booth and Matheny cashed whatremained of his winnings.     I don't want to—I mean if you're busy tonight, Mr. Doran—     Nah. I am not doing one thing in particular. Besides, I have never meta Martian. I am very interested.     There aren't many of us on Earth, agreed Matheny. Just a smallembassy staff and an occasional like me.     I should think you would do a lot of traveling here. The old motherplanet and so on.     We can't afford it, said Matheny. What with gravitation anddistance, such voyages are much too expensive for us to make them forpleasure. Not to mention our dollar shortage. As they entered theshaft, he added wistfully: You Earth people have that kind of money,at least in your more prosperous brackets. Why don't you send a fewtourists to us?     I always wanted to, said Doran. I would like to see the what theycall City of Time, and so on. As a matter of fact, I have given mygirl one of those Old Martian rings last Ike's Birthday and she wasjust gazoo about it. A jewel dug out of the City of Time, like,made a million years ago by a, uh, extinct race ... I tell you, she      appreciated     me for it! He winked and nudged.     Oh, said Matheny.  <doc-sep>Don stared at the scene below him. After his initial glance to confirmhis identification of Crandon, Don could not bear to look at him.     Crandon's voice suddenly hardened, became abrupt. You're partly rightabout us, of course. I hate to think how many laws this organizationhas broken. Don't condemn us yet, though. You'll be a member yourselfbefore the day is over.     Don was shocked by such confidence in his corruptibility.     What do you use? he asked bitterly. Drugs? Hypnosis?     Crandon sighed. I forgot how little you know, Don. I have a longstory to tell you. You'll find it hard to believe at first. But try totrust me. Try to believe me, as you once did. When I say that much ofwhat POSAT does is illegal, I do not mean immoral. We're probably themost moral organization in the world. Get over the idea that you havestumbled into a den of thieves.     Crandon paused as though searching for words with which to continue.     Did you notice the paintings in the waiting room as you entered?     Don nodded, too bewildered to speak.     They were donated by the founder of our Organization. They were partof his personal collection—which, incidentally, he bought from theartists themselves. He also designed the atomic reactor we use forpower here in the laboratory.     Then the pictures are modern, said Don, aware that his mouth washanging open foolishly. I thought one was a Titian—     It is, said Crandon. We have several original Titians, although Ireally don't know too much about them.     But how could a man alive      today     buy paintings from an artist of theRenaissance?     He is not alive today. POSAT is actually what our advertisementsclaim—an      ancient     secret society. Our founder has been dead for overfour centuries.     But you said that he designed your atomic reactor.     Yes. This particular one has been in use for only twenty years,however.     Don's confusion was complete. Crandon looked at him kindly. Let'sstart at the beginning, he said, and Don was back again in theclassroom with the deep voice of Professor Crandon unfolding thepages of knowledge in clear and logical manner. Four hundred yearsago, in the time of the Italian Renaissance, a man lived who was asuper-genius. His was the kind of incredible mentality that appears notin every generation, or even every century, but once in thousands ofyears.     Probably the man who invented what we call the phonetic alphabet wasone like him. That man lived seven thousand years ago in Mesopotamia,and his discovery was so original, so far from the natural courseof man's thinking, that not once in the intervening seven thousandyears has that device been rediscovered. It still exists only in thecivilizations to which it has been passed on directly.     The super-genius who was our founder was not a semanticist. He wasa physical scientist and mathematician. Starting with the meagerheritage that existed in these fields in his time, he began tacklingphysical puzzles one by one. Sitting in his study, using as hisprincipal tool his own great mind, he invented calculus, developed thequantum theory of light, moved on to electromagnetic radiation and whatwe call Maxwell's equations—although, of course, he antedated Maxwellby centuries—developed the special and general theories of relativity,the tool of wave mechanics, and finally, toward the end of his life, hemathematically derived the packing fraction that describes the bindingenergy of nuclei—     But it can't be done, Don objected. It's an observed phenomenon. Ithasn't been derived. Every conservative instinct that he possessedcried out against this impossible fantasy. And yet—there sat thereactor, sheathed in its strange shield. Crandon watched the directionof Don's glance.     Yes, the reactor, said Crandon. He built one like it. It confirmedhis theories. His calculations showed him something else too. He sawthe destructive potentialities of an atomic explosion. He himself couldnot have built an atomic bomb; he didn't have the facilities. But hisknowledge would have enabled other men to do so. He looked abouthim. He saw a political setup of warring principalities, rival states,intrigue, and squabbles over political power. Giving the men of histime atomic energy would have been like handing a baby a firecrackerwith a lighted fuse.     What should he have done? Let his secrets die with him? Hedidn't think so. No one else in his age could have      derived     theknowledge that he did. But it was an age of brilliant men. Leonardo.Michelangelo. There were men capable of      learning     his science, even asmen can learn it today. He gathered some of them together and foundedthis society. It served two purposes. It perpetuated his discoveriesand at the same time it maintained the greatest secrecy about them. Heurged that the secrets be kept until the time when men could use themsafely. The other purpose was to make that time come about as soon aspossible.     Crandon looked at Don's unbelieving face. How can I make you see thatit is the truth? Think of the eons that man or manlike creatures havewalked the Earth. Think what a small fraction of that time is fourhundred years. Is it so strange that atomic energy was discovered alittle early, by this displacement in time that is so tiny after all?     But by one man, Don argued.     Crandon shrugged. Compared with him, Don, you and I are stupid men.So are the scientists who slowly plodded down the same road he hadcome, stumbling first on one truth and then the succeeding one. We knowthat inventions and discoveries do not occur at random. Each is basedon the one that preceded it. We are all aware of the phenomenon ofsimultaneous invention. The path to truth is a straight one. It is onlyour own stupidity that makes it seem slow and tortuous.     He merely followed the straight path, Crandon finished simply.  <doc-sep>Carpenter rubbed modestly gloved hands together. I have no immediatebusiness, so supposing I start showing you the sights. What would youlike to see first, Mr. Frey? Or would you prefer a nice, restful movid?     Frankly, Michael admitted, the first thing I'd like to do is getmyself something to eat. I didn't have any breakfast and I'm famished.Two small creatures standing close to him giggled nervously andscuttled off on six legs apiece.     Shh, not so loud! There are females present. Carpenter drew theyouth to a secluded corner. Don't you know that on Theemim it'sfrightfully vulgar to as much as speak of eating in public?     But why? Michael demanded in too loud a voice. What's wrong witheating in public here on Earth?     Carpenter clapped a hand over the young man's mouth. Hush, hecautioned. After all, on Earth there are things we don't do or evenmention in public, aren't there?     Well, yes. But those are different.     Not at all. Those rules might seem just as ridiculous to a Theemimian.But the Theemimians have accepted our customs just as we have acceptedthe Theemimians'. How would you like it if a Theemimian violatedone of our tabus in public? You must consider the feelings of theTheemimians as equal to your own. Observe the golden rule: 'Do untoextraterrestrials as you would be done by.'     But I'm still hungry, Michael persisted, modulating his voice,however, to a decent whisper. Do the proprieties demand that I starveto death, or can I get something to eat somewhere?     Naturally, the salesman whispered back. Portyork provides for allbodily needs. Numerous feeding stations are conveniently locatedthroughout the port, and there must be some on the field.     After gazing furtively over his shoulder to see that no females werewatching, Carpenter approached a large map of the landing field andpressed a button. A tiny red light winked demurely for an instant.     That's the nearest one, Carpenter explained.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in THE CREATURES THAT TIME FORGOT?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you tell me where THE CREATURES THAT TIME FORGOT takes place? [SEP] <s>The lady drew herself up and jutted an indignant brow at him. Sir!This is a church!     Oh—I see—excuse me, I, I, I— Matheny backed out of the crowd,shuddering. He looked around for some place to hide his burning ears.     You forgot your chips, pal, said a voice.     Oh. Thanks. Thanks ever so much. I, I, that is— Matheny cursedhis knotting tongue.      Damn it, just because they're so much moresophisticated than I, do I have to talk like a leaky boiler?       The helpful Earthman was not tall. He was dark and chisel-faced andsleekly pomaded, dapper in blue pajamas with a red zigzag, a sleighbellcloak and curly-toed slippers.     You're from Mars, aren't you? he asked in the friendliest toneMatheny had yet heard.     Yes. Yes, I am. M-my name's Peter Matheny. I, I— He stuck out hishand to shake and chips rolled over the floor. Damn! Oh, excuse me, Iforgot this was a church. Never mind the chips. No, please. I just wantto g-g-get the hell out of here.     Good idea. How about a drink? I know a bar downshaft.     Matheny sighed. A drink is what I need the very most.     My name's Doran. Gus Doran. Call me Gus.     They walked back to the deaconette's booth and Matheny cashed whatremained of his winnings.     I don't want to—I mean if you're busy tonight, Mr. Doran—     Nah. I am not doing one thing in particular. Besides, I have never meta Martian. I am very interested.     There aren't many of us on Earth, agreed Matheny. Just a smallembassy staff and an occasional like me.     I should think you would do a lot of traveling here. The old motherplanet and so on.     We can't afford it, said Matheny. What with gravitation anddistance, such voyages are much too expensive for us to make them forpleasure. Not to mention our dollar shortage. As they entered theshaft, he added wistfully: You Earth people have that kind of money,at least in your more prosperous brackets. Why don't you send a fewtourists to us?     I always wanted to, said Doran. I would like to see the what theycall City of Time, and so on. As a matter of fact, I have given mygirl one of those Old Martian rings last Ike's Birthday and she wasjust gazoo about it. A jewel dug out of the City of Time, like,made a million years ago by a, uh, extinct race ... I tell you, she      appreciated     me for it! He winked and nudged.     Oh, said Matheny.  <doc-sep>I really haven't the time to waste talking irrelevancies, Swarts saida while later. Honestly. Maitland, I'm working against a time limit.If you'll cooperate, I'll tell Ching to answer your questions.'     Ching?     Ingrid Ching is the girl who has been bringing you your meals.     Maitland considered a moment, then nodded. Swarts lowered the projectorto his eyes again, and this time the engineer did not resist.     That evening, he could hardly wait for her to come. Too excited to sitand watch the sunset, he paced interminably about the room, sometimeswhistling nervously, snapping his fingers, sitting down and jitteringone leg. After a while he noticed that he was whistling the same themeover and over: a minute's thought identified it as that exuberantmounting phrase which recurs in the finale of Beethoven's NinthSymphony.     He forgot about it and went on whistling. He was picturing himselfaboard a ship dropping in toward Mars, making planetfall at SyrtisMajor; he was seeing visions of Venus and the awesome beauty of Saturn.In his mind, he circled the Moon, and viewed the Earth as a huge brightglobe against the constellations....     Finally the door slid aside and she appeared, carrying the usual trayof food. She smiled at him, making dimples in her golden skin andrevealing a perfect set of teeth, and put the tray on the table.     I think you are wonderful, she laughed. You get everything youwant, even from Swarts, and I have not been able to get even a littleof what I want from him. I want to travel in time, go back to your 20thCentury. And I wanted to talk with you, and he would not let me. Shelaughed again, hands on her rounded hips. I have never seen him soirritated as he was this noon.     Maitland urged her into the chair and sat down on the edge of the bed.Eagerly he asked, Why the devil do you want to go to the 20th Century?Believe me, I've been there, and what I've seen of this world looks alot better.     She shrugged. Swarts says that I want to go back to the Dark Age ofTechnology because I have not adapted well to modern culture. Myself,I think I have just a romantic nature. Far times and places look moreexciting....     How do you mean— Maitland wrinkled his brow—adapt to modernculture? Don't tell me      you're     from another time!     Oh, no! But my home is Aresund, a little fishing village at the headof a fiord in what you would call Norway. So far north, we are muchbehind the times. We live in the old way, from the sea, speak the oldtongue.  <doc-sep>Tonight is our last night at      TheSpace Room     . Goon-Face is scowlingagain with the icy fury of aPlutonian monsoon. As Goon-Facehas said, No beeg feedle, no contract.     Without John, we're notes in alost chord.     We've searched everything, inhospitals, morgues, jails, night clubs,hotels. We've hounded spaceportsand 'copter terminals. Nowhere, nowhereis John Smith.     Ziggy, whose two fingers havehealed, has already bowed to whatseems inevitable. He's signed up forthat trip to Neptune's uraniumpits. There's plenty of room formore volunteers, he tells us. But Ispend my time cussing the guy whoforgot to set the force field at theother end of the hole and let Johnand his      Zloomph     back into his owntime dimension. I cuss harder whenI think how we were robbed of thebest bass player in the galaxy.     And without a corpus delecti wecan't even sue the city.       ... THE END    <doc-sep>  He was  still weak days later whenCapt. Ron Small of SP-101 said,     Yes, Karyl, it's ironical. They fed youwhat they thought was sure death, and it'sthe only thing that kept you going longenough to warn us.     I was dumb for a long time, Karyl said.I thought that it was the acid, almost tothe very last. But when I drank that lastglass, I knew they didn't have a chance.     They were metal monsters. No wonderthey feared that liquid. It would rust theirjoints, short their wiring, and kill them.No wonder they stared when I kept aliveafter drinking enough to completely annihilatea half-dozen of them.     But what happened when you met theship?     The space captain grinned.     Not much. Our crew was busy creatinga hollow shell filled with      water     to be shotout of a rocket tube converted into a projectilethrower.     These Steel-Blues, as you call them, puttraction beams on us and started tugging ustoward the asteroid. We tried a couple ofatomic shots but when they just glanced off,we gave up.     They weren't expecting the shell ofwater. When it hit that blue ship, you couldalmost see it oxidize before your eyes.     I guess they knew what was wrong rightaway. They let go the traction beams andtried to get away. They forgot about theforce field, so we just poured atomic fireinto the weakening ship. It just meltedaway.     Jon Karyl got up from the divan wherehe'd been lying. They thought I was ametal creature, too. But where do you supposethey came from?     The captain shrugged. Who knows?     Jon set two glasses on the table.     Have a drink of the best damn water inthe solar system? He asked Capt. Small.     Don't mind if I do.     The water twinkled in the two glasses,winking as if it knew just what it haddone.     Transcriber's Note:   This etext was produced from    Planet Stories   July 1952.Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling andtypographical errors have been corrected without note.<doc-sep>He could tell from their looks that the others did, but couldn't bringthemselves to put it into words.     I suppose it's the time-scale and the value-scale that are so hard forus to accept, he said softly. Much more, even, than the size-scale.The thought that there are creatures in the Universe to whom the wholecareer of Man—in fact, the whole career of life—is no more than a fewthousand or hundred thousand years. And to whom Man is no more than aminor stage property—a trifling part of a clever job of camouflage.     This time he went on, Fantasy writers have at times hinted all sortsof odd things about the Earth—that it might even be a kind of singleliving creature, or honeycombed with inhabited caverns, and so on.But I don't know that any of them have ever suggested that the Earth,together with all the planets and moons of the Solar System, mightbe....     In a whisper, Frieda finished for him, ... a camouflaged fleet ofgigantic spherical spaceships.           Your guess happens to be the precise truth.          At that familiar, yet dreadly unfamiliar voice, all four of them swungtoward the inner door. Dotty was standing there, a sleep-stupefiedlittle girl with a blanket caught up around her and dragging behind.Their own daughter. But in her eyes was a look from which they cringed.     She said, I am a creature somewhat older than what your geologistscall the Archeozoic Era. I am speaking to you through a number oftelepathically sensitive individuals among your kind. In each case mythoughts suit themselves to your level of comprehension. I inhabit thedisguised and jetless spaceship which is your Earth.     Celeste swayed a step forward. Baby.... she implored.     Dotty went on, without giving her a glance, It is true that we plantedthe seeds of life on some of these planets simply as part of ourcamouflage, just as we gave them a suitable environment for each. Andit is true that now we must let most of that life be destroyed. Ourhiding place has been discovered, our pursuers are upon us, and we mustmake one last effort to escape or do battle, since we firmly believethat the principle of mental privacy to which we have devoted ourexistence is perhaps the greatest good in the whole Universe.     But it is not true that we look with contempt upon you. Our whole raceis deeply devoted to life, wherever it may come into being, and it isour rule never to interfere with its development. That was one ofthe reasons we made life a part of our camouflage—it would make ourpursuers reluctant to examine these planets too closely.     Yes, we have always cherished you and watched your evolution withinterest from our hidden lairs. We may even unconsciously have shapedyour development in certain ways, trying constantly to educate you awayfrom war and finally succeeding—which may have given the betrayingclue to our pursuers.     Your planets must be burst asunder—this particular planet in thearea of the Pacific—so that we may have our last chance to escape.Even if we did not move, our pursuers would destroy you with us. Wecannot invite you inside our ships—not for lack of space, but becauseyou could never survive the vast accelerations to which you would besubjected. You would, you see, need very special accommodations, ofwhich we have enough only for a few.     Those few we will take with us, as the seed from which a new humanrace may—if we ourselves somehow survive—be born.  <doc-sep>Don stared at the scene below him. After his initial glance to confirmhis identification of Crandon, Don could not bear to look at him.     Crandon's voice suddenly hardened, became abrupt. You're partly rightabout us, of course. I hate to think how many laws this organizationhas broken. Don't condemn us yet, though. You'll be a member yourselfbefore the day is over.     Don was shocked by such confidence in his corruptibility.     What do you use? he asked bitterly. Drugs? Hypnosis?     Crandon sighed. I forgot how little you know, Don. I have a longstory to tell you. You'll find it hard to believe at first. But try totrust me. Try to believe me, as you once did. When I say that much ofwhat POSAT does is illegal, I do not mean immoral. We're probably themost moral organization in the world. Get over the idea that you havestumbled into a den of thieves.     Crandon paused as though searching for words with which to continue.     Did you notice the paintings in the waiting room as you entered?     Don nodded, too bewildered to speak.     They were donated by the founder of our Organization. They were partof his personal collection—which, incidentally, he bought from theartists themselves. He also designed the atomic reactor we use forpower here in the laboratory.     Then the pictures are modern, said Don, aware that his mouth washanging open foolishly. I thought one was a Titian—     It is, said Crandon. We have several original Titians, although Ireally don't know too much about them.     But how could a man alive      today     buy paintings from an artist of theRenaissance?     He is not alive today. POSAT is actually what our advertisementsclaim—an      ancient     secret society. Our founder has been dead for overfour centuries.     But you said that he designed your atomic reactor.     Yes. This particular one has been in use for only twenty years,however.     Don's confusion was complete. Crandon looked at him kindly. Let'sstart at the beginning, he said, and Don was back again in theclassroom with the deep voice of Professor Crandon unfolding thepages of knowledge in clear and logical manner. Four hundred yearsago, in the time of the Italian Renaissance, a man lived who was asuper-genius. His was the kind of incredible mentality that appears notin every generation, or even every century, but once in thousands ofyears.     Probably the man who invented what we call the phonetic alphabet wasone like him. That man lived seven thousand years ago in Mesopotamia,and his discovery was so original, so far from the natural courseof man's thinking, that not once in the intervening seven thousandyears has that device been rediscovered. It still exists only in thecivilizations to which it has been passed on directly.     The super-genius who was our founder was not a semanticist. He wasa physical scientist and mathematician. Starting with the meagerheritage that existed in these fields in his time, he began tacklingphysical puzzles one by one. Sitting in his study, using as hisprincipal tool his own great mind, he invented calculus, developed thequantum theory of light, moved on to electromagnetic radiation and whatwe call Maxwell's equations—although, of course, he antedated Maxwellby centuries—developed the special and general theories of relativity,the tool of wave mechanics, and finally, toward the end of his life, hemathematically derived the packing fraction that describes the bindingenergy of nuclei—     But it can't be done, Don objected. It's an observed phenomenon. Ithasn't been derived. Every conservative instinct that he possessedcried out against this impossible fantasy. And yet—there sat thereactor, sheathed in its strange shield. Crandon watched the directionof Don's glance.     Yes, the reactor, said Crandon. He built one like it. It confirmedhis theories. His calculations showed him something else too. He sawthe destructive potentialities of an atomic explosion. He himself couldnot have built an atomic bomb; he didn't have the facilities. But hisknowledge would have enabled other men to do so. He looked abouthim. He saw a political setup of warring principalities, rival states,intrigue, and squabbles over political power. Giving the men of histime atomic energy would have been like handing a baby a firecrackerwith a lighted fuse.     What should he have done? Let his secrets die with him? Hedidn't think so. No one else in his age could have      derived     theknowledge that he did. But it was an age of brilliant men. Leonardo.Michelangelo. There were men capable of      learning     his science, even asmen can learn it today. He gathered some of them together and foundedthis society. It served two purposes. It perpetuated his discoveriesand at the same time it maintained the greatest secrecy about them. Heurged that the secrets be kept until the time when men could use themsafely. The other purpose was to make that time come about as soon aspossible.     Crandon looked at Don's unbelieving face. How can I make you see thatit is the truth? Think of the eons that man or manlike creatures havewalked the Earth. Think what a small fraction of that time is fourhundred years. Is it so strange that atomic energy was discovered alittle early, by this displacement in time that is so tiny after all?     But by one man, Don argued.     Crandon shrugged. Compared with him, Don, you and I are stupid men.So are the scientists who slowly plodded down the same road he hadcome, stumbling first on one truth and then the succeeding one. We knowthat inventions and discoveries do not occur at random. Each is basedon the one that preceded it. We are all aware of the phenomenon ofsimultaneous invention. The path to truth is a straight one. It is onlyour own stupidity that makes it seem slow and tortuous.     He merely followed the straight path, Crandon finished simply.  <doc-sep>   THE EXPENDABLES     BY JIM HARMON     It was just a little black box,     useful for getting rid of things.     Trouble was, it worked too well!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, May 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      You see my problem, Professor? Tony Carmen held his pinkly manicured,flashily ringed hands wide.     I saw his problem and it was warmly embarrassing.     Really, Mr. Carmen, I said, this isn't the sort of thing you discusswith a total stranger. I'm not a doctor—not of medicine, anyway—or alawyer.     They can't help me. I need an operator in your line.     I work for the United States government. I can't become involved inanything illegal.     Carmen smoothed down the front of his too-tight midnight blue suit andtouched the diamond sticking in his silver tie. You can't, ProfessorVenetti? Ever hear of the Mafia?     I've heard of it, I said uneasily. An old fraternal organizationsomething like the Moose or Rosicrucians, founded in Sicily. Itallegedly controls organized crime in the U.S. But that is aresponsibility-eluding myth that honest Italian-Americans are stampingout. We don't even like to see the word in print.     I can understand      honest     Italian-Americans feeling that way. But guyslike me know the Mafia is still with it. We can put the squeeze onmarks like you pretty easy.     You don't have to tell even a third generation American about theMafia. Maybe that was the trouble. I had heard too much and for toolong. All the stories I had ever heard about the Mafia, true or false,built up an unendurable threat.     All right, I'll try to help you, Carmen. But ... that is, you didn'tkill any of these people?     He snorted. I haven't killed anybody since early 1943.     Please, I said weakly. You needn't incriminate yourself with me.     I was in the Marines, Carmen said hotly. Listen, Professor, thesearen't no Prohibition times. Not many people get made for a hit thesedays. Mother, most of these bodies they keep ditching at my clubhaven't been murdered by anybody. They're accident victims. Rumbumswith too much anti-freeze for a summer's day, Spanish-American War vetsgoing to visit Teddy in the natural course of events. Harry Keno juststows them at my place to embarrass me. Figures to make me lose myliquor license or take a contempt before the Grand Jury.     I don't suppose you could just go to the police— I saw the answer inhis eyes. No. I don't suppose you could.     I told you once, Professor, but I'll tell you again. I have to get ridof these bodies they keep leaving in my kitchen. I can take 'em andthrow them in the river, sure. But what if me or my boys are stopped enroute by some tipped badge?     Quicklime? I suggested automatically.     What are you talking about? Are you sure you're some kind ofscientist? Lime doesn't do much to a stiff at all. Kind of putrifiesthem like....     I forgot, I admitted. I'd read it in so many stories I'd forgottenit wouldn't work. And I suppose the furnace leaves ashes and there'salways traces of hair and teeth in the garbage disposal... Aninteresting problem, at that.     I figured you could handle it, Carmen said, leaning back comfortablyin the favorite chair of my bachelor apartment. I heard you wereworking on something to get rid of trash for the government.     That, I told him, is restricted information. I subcontracted thatwork from the big telephone laboratories. How did you find it out?     Ways, Professor, ways.     The government did want me to find a way to dispose ofwastes—radioactive wastes. It was the most important problem anycountry could have in this time of growing atomic industry. Now asmall-time gangster was asking me to use this research to help himdispose of hot corpses. It made my scientific blood seethe. But theshadow of the Black Hand cooled it off.     Maybe I can find something in that area of research to help you, Isaid. I'll call you.     Don't take too long, Professor, Carmen said cordially.  <doc-sep>Hatcher hurried through the halls of the great buried structure inwhich he worked, toward the place where the supervising council of allprobes would be in permanent session. They admitted him at once.     Hatcher identified himself and gave a quick, concise report:     The subject recovered consciousness a short time ago and began toinspect his enclosure. His method of doing so was to put his ownmembers in physical contact with the various objects in the enclosure.After observing him do this for a time we concluded he might be unableto see and so we illuminated his field of vision for him.     This appeared to work well for a time. He seemed relativelyundisturbed. However, he then reverted to physical-contact,manipulating certain appurtenances of an artificial skin we hadprovided for him.     He then began to vibrate the atmosphere by means of resonating organsin his breathing passage.     Simultaneously, the object he was holding, attached to the artificialskin, was discovered to be generating paranormal forces.     The supervising council rocked with excitement. You're sure? demandedone of the councilmen.     Yes, sir. The staff is preparing a technical description of the forcesnow, but I can say that they are electromagnetic vibrations modulatinga carrier wave of very high speed, and in turn modulated by thevibrations of the atmosphere caused by the subject's own breathing.     Fantastic, breathed the councillor, in a tone of dawning hope. Howabout communicating with him, Hatcher? Any progress?     Well ... not much, sir. He suddenly panicked. We don't know why; butwe thought we'd better pull back and let him recover for a while.     The council conferred among itself for a moment, Hatcher waiting. Itwas not really a waste of time for him; with the organs he had left inthe probe-team room, he was in fairly close touch with what was goingon—knew that McCray was once again fumbling among the objects in thedark, knew that the team-members had tried illuminating the room forhim briefly and again produced the rising panic.     Still, Hatcher fretted. He wanted to get back.     Stop fidgeting, commanded the council leader abruptly. Hatcher, youare to establish communication at once.     But, sir.... Hatcher swung closer, his thick skin quivering slightly;he would have gestured if he had brought members with him to gesturewith. We've done everything we dare. We've made the place homeyfor him— actually, what he said was more like,      we've warmed thebiophysical nuances of his enclosure     —and tried to guess his needs;and we're frightening him half to death. We      can't     go faster. Thiscreature is in no way similar to us, you know. He relies on paranormalforces—heat, light, kinetic energy—for his life. His chemistry is notours, his processes of thought are not ours, his entire organism iscloser to the inanimate rocks of a sea-bottom than to ourselves.     Understood, Hatcher. In your first report you stated these creatureswere intelligent.     Yes, sir. But not in our way.     But in      a     way, and you must learn that way. I know. One lobster-clawshaped member drifted close to the councillor's body and raised itselfin an admonitory gesture. You want time. But we don't have time,Hatcher. Yours is not the only probe team working. The Central Massesteam has just turned in a most alarming report.     Have they secured a subject? Hatcher demanded jealously.     The councillor paused. Worse than that, Hatcher. I am afraid theirsubjects have secured one of them. One of them is missing.     There was a moment's silence. Frozen, Hatcher could only wait. Thecouncil room was like a tableau in a museum until the councillor spokeagain, each council member poised over his locus-point, his membersdrifting about him.     Finally the councillor said, I speak for all of us, I think. If theOld Ones have seized one of our probers our time margin is considerablynarrowed. Indeed, we may not have any time at all. You must doeverything you can to establish communication with your subject.     But the danger to the specimen— Hatcher protested automatically.     —is no greater, said the councillor, than the danger to every oneof us if we do not find allies      now     .  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you tell me where THE CREATURES THAT TIME FORGOT takes place?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What kind of connection exists between Dark and Sim in THE CREATURES THAT TIME FORGOT? [SEP] <s>All day the sun seemed to blaze and erupt into the valley. Sim couldnot see it, but the vivid pictorials in his parents' minds weresufficient evidence of the nature of the day fire. The light ran likemercury, sizzling and roasting the caves, poking inward, but neverpenetrating deeply enough. It lighted the caves. It made the hollows ofthe cliff comfortably warm.     Sim fought to keep his parents young. But no matter how hard he foughtwith mind and image, they became like mummies before him. His fatherseemed to dissolve from one stage of oldness to another. This is whatwill happen to me soon, though Sim in terror.     Sim grew upon himself. He felt the digestive-eliminatory movementsof his body. He was fed every minute, he was continually swallowing,feeding. He began to fit words to images and processes. Such a word waslove. It was not an abstraction, but a process, a stir of breath, asmell of morning air, a flutter of heart, the curve of arm holding him,the look in the suspended face of his mother. He saw the processes,then searched behind her suspended face and there was the word, in herbrain, ready to use. His throat prepared to speak. Life was pushinghim, rushing him along toward oblivion.     He sensed the expansion of his fingernails, the adjustments of hiscells, the profusion of his hair, the multiplication of his bones andsinew, the grooving of the soft pale wax of his brain. His brain atbirth as clear as a circle of ice, innocent, unmarked, was, an instantlater, as if hit with a thrown rock, cracked and marked and patternedin a million crevices of thought and discovery.     His sister, Dark, ran in and out with other little hothouse children,forever eating. His mother trembled over him, not eating, she had noappetite, her eyes were webbed shut.     Sunset, said his father, at last.     The day was over. The light faded, a wind sounded.     His mother arose. I want to see the outside world once more ... justonce more.... She stared blindly, shivering.     His father's eyes were shut, he lay against the wall.     I cannot rise, he whispered faintly. I cannot.     Dark! The mother croaked, the girl came running. Here, and Sim washanded to the girl. Hold to Sim, Dark, feed him, care for him. Shegave Sim one last fondling touch.     Dark said not a word, holding Sim, her great green eyes shining wetly.     Go now, said the mother. Take him out into the sunset time. Enjoyyourselves. Pick foods, eat. Play.     Dark walked away without looking back. Sim twisted in her grasp,looking over her shoulder with unbelieving, tragic eyes. He cried outand somehow summoned from his lips the first word of his existence.     Why...?     He saw his mother stiffen. The child spoke!     Aye, said his father. Did you hear what he said?     I heard, said the mother quietly.     The last thing Sim saw of his living parents was his mother weakly,swayingly, slowly moving across the floor to lie beside her silenthusband. That was the last time he ever saw them move.      IV     The night came and passed and then started the second day.     The bodies of all those who had died during the night were carried in afuneral procession to the top of a small hill. The procession was long,the bodies numerous.     Dark walked in the procession, holding the newly walking Sim by onehand. Only an hour before dawn Sim had learned to walk.     At the top of the hill, Sim saw once again the far off metal seed.Nobody ever looked at it, or spoke of it. Why? Was there some reason?Was it a mirage? Why did they not run toward it? Worship it? Try to getto it and fly away into space?     The funeral words were spoken. The bodies were placed upon the groundwhere the sun, in a few minutes, would cremate them.     The procession then turned and ran down the hill, eager to have theirfew minutes of free time running and playing and laughing in the sweetair.     Dark and Sim, chattering like birds, feeding among the rocks, exchangedwhat they knew of life. He was in his second day, she in her third.They were driven, as always, by the mercurial speed of their lives.     Another piece of his life opened wide.     Fifty young men ran down from the cliffs, holding sharp stones and rockdaggers in their thick hands. Shouting, they ran off toward distantblack, low lines of small rock cliffs.     War!     The thought stood in Sim's brain. It shocked and beat at him. These menwere running to fight, to kill, over there in those small black cliffswhere other people lived.     But why? Wasn't life short enough without fighting, killing?     From a great distance he heard the sound of conflict, and it made hisstomach cold. Why, Dark, why?     Dark didn't know. Perhaps they would understand tomorrow. Now, therewas the business of eating to sustain and support their lives. WatchingDark was like seeing a lizard forever flickering its pink tongue,forever hungry.     Pale children ran on all sides of them. One beetle-like boy scuttled upthe rocks, knocking Sim aside, to take from him a particularly lusciousred berry he had found growing under an outcrop.     The child ate hastily of the fruit before Sim could gain his feet. ThenSim hurled himself unsteadily, the two of them fell in a ridiculousjumble, rolling, until Dark pried them, squalling, apart.     Sim bled. A part of him stood off, like a god, and said, This shouldnot be. Children should not be this way. It is wrong!     Dark slapped the little intruding boy away. Get on! she cried.What's your name, bad one?     Chion! laughed the boy. Chion, Chion, Chion!     Sim glared at him with all the ferocity in his small, unskilledfeatures. He choked. This was his enemy. It was as if he'd waitedfor an enemy of person as well as scene. He had already understoodthe avalanches, the heat, the cold, the shortness of life, but thesewere things of places, of scene—mute, extravagant manifestations ofunthinking nature, not motivated save by gravity and radiation. Here,now, in this stridulent Chion he recognized a thinking enemy!     Chion darted off, turned at a distance, tauntingly crying:     Tomorrow I will be big enough to kill you!     And he vanished around a rock.     More children ran, giggling, by Sim. Which of them would be friends,enemies? How could friends and enemies come about in this impossible,quick life time? There was no time to make either, was there?     Dark, as if knowing his thoughts, drew him away. As they searched fordesired foods, she whispered fiercely in his ear. Enemies are madeover things like stolen foods; gifts of long grasses make friends.Enemies come, too, from opinions and thoughts. In five seconds you'vemade an enemy for life. Life's so short enemies must be made quickly.And she laughed with an irony strange for one so young, who was growingolder before her rightful time. You must fight to protect yourself.Others, superstitious ones, will try killing you. There is a belief, aridiculous belief, that if one kills another, the murderer partakes ofthe life energy of the slain, and therefore will live an extra day. Yousee? As long as that is believed, you're in danger.     But Sim was not listening. Bursting from a flock of delicate girls whotomorrow would be tall, quieter, and who day after that would gainbreasts and the next day take husbands, Sim caught sight of one smallgirl whose hair was a violet blue flame.     She ran past, brushed Sim, their bodies touched. Her eyes, white assilver coins, shone at him. He knew then that he'd found a friend, alove, a wife, one who'd a week from now lie with him atop the funeralpyre as sunlight undressed their flesh from bone.     Only the glance, but it held them in mid-motion, one instant.     Your name? he shouted after her.     Lyte! she called laughingly back.     I'm Sim, he answered, confused and bewildered.     Sim! she repeated it, flashing on. I'll remember!     Dark nudged his ribs. Here,      eat     , she said to the distracted boy.Eat or you'll never get big enough to catch her.     From nowhere, Chion appeared, running by. Lyte! he mocked, dancingmalevolently along and away. Lyte! I'll remember Lyte, too!     Dark stood tall and reed slender, shaking her dark ebony clouds ofhair, sadly. I see your life before you, little Sim. You'll needweapons soon to fight for this Lyte one. Now, hurry—the sun's coming!     They ran back to the caves.  <doc-sep>  THE CREATURES THAT TIME FORGOT     By RAY BRADBURY     Mad, impossible world! Sun-blasted by day,     cold-wracked by night—and life condensed by     radiation into eight days! Sim eyed the     Ship—if he only dared reach it and     escape! ... but it was more than half an     hour distant—the limit of life itself!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1946.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      During the night, Sim was born. He lay wailing upon the cold cavestones. His blood beat through him a thousand pulses each minute. Hegrew, steadily.     Into his mouth his mother with feverish hands put the food. Thenightmare of living was begun. Almost instantly at birth his eyes grewalert, and then, without half understanding why, filled with bright,insistent terror. He gagged upon the food, choked and wailed. He lookedabout, blindly.     There was a thick fog. It cleared. The outlines of the cave appeared.And a man loomed up, insane and wild and terrible. A man with a dyingface. Old, withered by winds, baked like adobe in the heat. The man wascrouched in a far corner of the cave, his eyes whitening to one side ofhis face, listening to the far wind trumpeting up above on the frozennight planet.     Sim's mother, trembling, now and again, staring at the man, fed Simpebble-fruits, valley-grasses and ice-nipples broken from the cavernentrances, and eating, eliminating, eating again, he grew larger,larger.     The man in the corner of the cave was his father! The man's eyes wereall that was alive in his face. He held a crude stone dagger in hiswithered hands and his jaw hung loose and senseless.     Then, with a widening focus, Sim saw the old people sitting in thetunnel beyond this living quarter. And as he watched, they began to die.     Their agonies filled the cave. They melted like waxen images, theirfaces collapsed inward on their sharp bones, their teeth protruded. Oneminute their faces were mature, fairly smooth, alive, electric. Thenext minute a desication and burning away of their flesh occurred.     Sim thrashed in his mother's grasp. She held him. No, no, she soothedhim, quietly, earnestly, looking to see if this, too, would cause herhusband to rise again.     With a soft swift padding of naked feet, Sim's father ran across thecave. Sim's mother screamed. Sim felt himself torn loose from hergrasp. He fell upon the stones, rolling, shrieking with his new, moistlungs!        With a soft padding of naked feet Sim's father ran across the cave.        The webbed face of his father jerked over him, the knife was poised.It was like one of those prenatal nightmares he'd had while stillin his mother's flesh. In the next few blazing, impossible instantsquestions flicked through his brain. The knife was high, suspended,ready to destroy him. But the whole question of life in this cave, thedying people, the withering and the insanity, surged through Sim'snew, small head. How was it that he understood? A newborn child? Can anewborn child think, see, understand, interpret? No. It was wrong! Itwas impossible. Yet it was happening! To him. He had been alive an hournow. And in the next instant perhaps dead!     His mother flung herself upon the back of his father, and beat down theweapon. Sim caught the terrific backwash of emotion from both theirconflicting minds. Let me kill him! shouted the father, breathingharshly, sobbingly. What has he to live for?     No, no! insisted the mother, and her body, frail and old as it was,stretched across the huge body of the father, tearing at his weapon.He must live! There may be a future for him! He may live longer thanus, and be young!     The father fell back against a stone crib. Lying there, staring,eyes glittering, Sim saw another figure inside that stone crib. Agirl-child, quietly feeding itself, moving its delicate hands toprocure food. His sister.     The mother wrenched the dagger from her husband's grasp, stood up,weeping and pushing back her cloud of stiffening gray hair. Her mouthtrembled and jerked. I'll kill you! she said, glaring down at herhusband. Leave my children alone.     The old man spat tiredly, bitterly, and looked vacantly into the stonecrib, at the little girl. One-eighth of      her     life's over, already,he gasped. And she doesn't know it. What's the use?     As Sim watched, his own mother seemed to shift and take a tortured,smoke-like form. The thin bony face broke out into a maze of wrinkles.She was shaken with pain and had to sit by him, shuddering and cuddlingthe knife to her shriveled breasts. She, like the old people in thetunnel, was aging, dying.     Sim cried steadily. Everywhere he looked was horror. A mind came tomeet his own. Instinctively he glanced toward the stone crib. Dark, hissister, returned his glance. Their minds brushed like straying fingers.He relaxed somewhat. He began to learn.     The father sighed, shut his lids down over his green eyes. Feed thechild, he said, exhaustedly. Hurry. It is almost dawn and it is ourlast day of living, woman. Feed him. Make him grow.     Sim quieted, and images, out of the terror, floated to him.     This was a planet next to the sun. The nights burned with cold, thedays were like torches of fire. It was a violent, impossible world. Thepeople lived in the cliffs to escape the incredible ice and the day offlame. Only at dawn and sunset was the air breath-sweet, flower-strong,and then the cave peoples brought their children out into a stony,barren valley. At dawn the ice thawed into creeks and rivers, at sunsetthe day-fires died and cooled. In the intervals of even, livabletemperature the people lived, ran, played, loved, free of the caverns;all life on the planet jumped, burst into life. Plants grew instantly,birds were flung like pellets across the sky. Smaller, legged animallife rushed frantically through the rocks; everything tried to getits living down in the brief hour of respite.     It was an unbearable planet. Sim understood this, a matter of hoursafter birth. Racial memory bloomed in him. He would live his entirelife in the caves, with two hours a day outside. Here, in stonechannels of air he would talk, talk incessantly with his people, sleepnever, think, think and lie upon his back, dreaming; but never sleeping.       And he would live exactly eight days.    <doc-sep>The violence of this thought evacuated his bowels. Eight days. Eight      short     days. It was wrong, impossible, but a fact. Even while in hismother's flesh some racial knowledge had told him he was being formedrapidly, shaped and propelled out swiftly.     Birth was quick as a knife. Childhood was over in a flash. Adolescencewas a sheet of lightning. Manhood was a dream, maturity a myth, old agean inescapably quick reality, death a swift certainty.     Eight days from now he'd stand half-blind, withering, dying, as hisfather now stood, staring uselessly at his own wife and child.     This day was an eighth part of his total life! He must enjoy everysecond of it. He must search his parents' thoughts for knowledge.       Because in a few hours they'd be dead.       This was so impossibly unfair. Was this all of life? In his prenatalstate hadn't he dreamed of      long     lives, valleys not of blasted stonebut green foliage and temperate clime? Yes! And if he'd dreamed thenthere must be truth in the visions. How could he seek and find the longlife? Where? And how could he accomplish a life mission that huge anddepressing in eight short, vanishing days?     How had his people gotten into such a condition?     As if at a button pressed, he saw an image. Metal seeds, blown acrossspace from a distant green world, fighting with long flames, crashingon this bleak planet. From their shattered hulls tumble men and women.     When? Long ago. Ten thousand days. The crash victims hid in the cliffsfrom the sun. Fire, ice and floods washed away the wreckage of thehuge metal seeds. The victims were shaped and beaten like iron upona forge. Solar radiations drenched them. Their pulses quickened,two hundred, five hundred, a thousand beats a minute. Their skinsthickened, their blood changed. Old age came rushing. Children wereborn in the caves. Swifter, swifter, swifter the process. Like all thisworld's wild life, the men and women from the crash lived and died in aweek, leaving children to do likewise.     So this is life, thought Sim. It was not spoken in his mind, forhe knew no words, he knew only images, old memory, an awareness, atelepathy that could penetrate flesh, rock, metal. So I'm the fivethousandth in a long line of futile sons? What can I do to save myselffrom dying eight days from now? Is there escape?     His eyes widened, another image came to focus.     Beyond this valley of cliffs, on a low mountain lay a perfect,unscarred metal seed. A metal ship, not rusted or touched by theavalanches. The ship was deserted, whole, intact. It was the only shipof all these that had crashed that was still a unit, still usable. Butit was so far away. There was no one in it to help. This ship, then, onthe far mountain, was the destiny toward which he would grow. There washis only hope of escape.     His mind flexed.     In this cliff, deep down in a confinement of solitude, worked a handfulof scientists. To these men, when he was old enough and wise enough, hemust go. They, too, dreamed of escape, of long life, of green valleysand temperate weathers. They, too, stared longingly at that distantship upon its high mountain, its metal so perfect it did not rust orage.     The cliff groaned.     Sim's father lifted his eroded, lifeless face.     Dawn's coming, he said.      II     Morning relaxed the mighty granite cliff muscles. It was the time ofthe Avalanche.     The tunnels echoed to running bare feet. Adults, children pushed witheager, hungry eyes toward the outside dawn. From far out, Sim hearda rumble of rock, a scream, a silence. Avalanches fell into valley.Stones that had been biding their time, not quite ready to fall, fora million years let go their bulks, and where they had begun theirjourney as single boulders they smashed upon the valley floor in athousand shrapnels and friction-heated nuggets.     Every morning at least one person was caught in the downpour.     The cliff people dared the avalanches. It added one more excitement totheir lives, already too short, too headlong, too dangerous.     Sim felt himself seized up by his father. He was carried brusquely downthe tunnel for a thousand yards, to where the daylight appeared. Therewas a shining insane light in his father's eyes. Sim could not move. Hesensed what was going to happen. Behind his father, his mother hurried,bringing with her the little sister, Dark. Wait! Be careful! shecried to her husband.     Sim felt his father crouch, listening.     High in the cliff was a tremor, a shivering.     Now! bellowed his father, and leaped out.     An avalanche fell down at them!     Sim had accelerated impressions of plunging walls, dust, confusion. Hismother screamed! There was a jolting, a plunging.     With one last step, Sim's father hurried him forward into the day. Theavalanche thundered behind him. The mouth of the cave, where mother andDark stood back out of the way, was choked with rubble and two bouldersthat weighed a hundred pounds each.     The storm thunder of the avalanche passed away to a trickle of sand.Sim's father burst out into laughter. Made it! By the Gods! Made italive! And he looked scornfully at the cliff and spat. Pagh!     Mother and sister Dark struggled through the rubble. She cursed herhusband. Fool! You might have killed Sim!     I may yet, retorted the father.     Sim was not listening. He was fascinated with the remains of anavalanche afront of the next tunnel. A blood stain trickled out fromunder a rise of boulders, soaking into the ground. There was nothingelse to be seen. Someone else had lost the game.     Dark ran ahead on lithe, supple feet, naked and certain.     The valley air was like a wine filtered between mountains. The heavenwas a restive blue; not the pale scorched atmosphere of full day, northe bloated, bruised black-purple of night, a-riot with sickly shiningstars.     This was a tide pool. A place where waves of varying and violenttemperatures struck, receded. Now the tide pool was quiet, cool, andits life moved abroad.     Laughter! Far away, Sim heard it. Why laughter? How could any of hispeople find time for laughing? Perhaps later he would discover why.     The valley suddenly blushed with impulsive color. Plant-life, thawingin the precipitant dawn, shoved out from most unexpected sources. Itflowered as you watched. Pale green tendrils appeared on scoured rocks.Seconds later, ripe globes of fruit twitched upon the blade-tips.Father gave Sim over to mother and harvested the momentary, volatilecrop, thrust scarlet, blue, yellow fruits into a fur sack which hung athis waist. Mother tugged at the moist new grasses, laid them on Sim'stongue.     His senses were being honed to a fine edge. He stored knowledgethirstily. He understood love, marriage, customs, anger, pity, rage,selfishness, shadings and subtleties, realities and reflections. Onething suggested another. The sight of green plant life whirled his mindlike a gyroscope, seeking balance in a world where lack of time forexplanations made a mind seek and interpret on its own. The soft burdenof food gave him knowledge of his system, of energy, of movement. Likea bird newly cracking its way from a shell, he was almost a unit,complete, all-knowing. Heredity had done all this for him. He grewexcited with his ability.  <doc-sep>They walked, mother, father and the two children, smelling the smells,watching the birds bounce from wall to wall of the valley likescurrying pebbles and suddenly the father said a strange thing:     Remember?     Remember what? Sim lay cradled. Was it any effort for them to rememberwhen they'd lived only seven days!     The husband and wife looked at each other.     Was it only three days ago? said the woman, her body shaking, hereyes closing to think. I can't believe it. It is so unfair. Shesobbed, then drew her hand across her face and bit her parched lips.The wind played at her gray hair. Now is my turn to cry. An hour agoit was you!     An hour is half a life.     Come, she took her husband's arm. Let us look at everything, becauseit will be our last looking.     The sun'll be up in a few minutes, said the old man. We must turnback now.     Just one more moment, pleaded the woman.     The sun will catch us.     Let it catch me then!     You don't mean that.     I mean nothing, nothing at all, cried the woman.     The sun was coming fast. The green in the valley burnt away. Searingwind blasted from over the cliffs. Far away where sun bolts hammeredbattlements of cliff, the huge stone faces shook their contents; thoseavalanches not already powdered down, were now released and fell likemantles.     Dark! shouted the father. The girl sprang over the warm floor of thevalley, answering, her hair a black flag behind her. Hands full ofgreen fruits, she joined them.     The sun rimmed the horizon with flame, the air convulsed dangerouslywith it, and whistled.     The cave people bolted, shouting, picking up their fallen children,bearing vast loads of fruit and grass with them back to their deephideouts. In moments the valley was bare. Except for one small childsomeone had forgotten. He was running far out on the flatness, but hewas not strong enough, and the engulfing heat was drifting down fromthe cliffs even as he was half across the valley.     Flowers were burnt into effigies, grasses sucked back into rocks likesinged snakes, flower seeds whirled and fell in the sudden furnaceblast of wind, sown far into gullies and crannies, ready to blossom atsunset tonight, and then go to seed and die again.     Sim's father watched that child running, alone, out on the floor ofthe valley. He and his wife and Dark and Sim were safe in the mouth oftheir tunnel.     He'll never make it, said father. Do not watch him, woman. It's nota good thing to watch.     They turned away. All except Sim, whose eyes had caught a glint ofmetal far away. His heart hammered in him, and his eyes blurred.Far away, atop a low mountain, one of those metal seeds from spacereflected a dazzling ripple of light! It was like one of hisintra-embryo dreams fulfilled! A metal space seed, intact, undamaged,lying on a mountain! There was his future! There was his hopefor survival! There was where he would go in a few days, when hewas—strange thought—a grown man!     The sun plunged into the valley like molten lava.     The little running child screamed, the sun burned, and the screamingstopped.     Sim's mother walked painfully, with sudden age, down the tunnel,paused, reached up, broke off two last icicles that had formed duringthe night. She handed one to her husband, kept the other. We willdrink one last toast. To you, to the children.     To      you     , he nodded to her. To the children. They lifted theicicles. The warmth melted the ice down into their thirsty mouths.  <doc-sep>Don stared at the scene below him. After his initial glance to confirmhis identification of Crandon, Don could not bear to look at him.     Crandon's voice suddenly hardened, became abrupt. You're partly rightabout us, of course. I hate to think how many laws this organizationhas broken. Don't condemn us yet, though. You'll be a member yourselfbefore the day is over.     Don was shocked by such confidence in his corruptibility.     What do you use? he asked bitterly. Drugs? Hypnosis?     Crandon sighed. I forgot how little you know, Don. I have a longstory to tell you. You'll find it hard to believe at first. But try totrust me. Try to believe me, as you once did. When I say that much ofwhat POSAT does is illegal, I do not mean immoral. We're probably themost moral organization in the world. Get over the idea that you havestumbled into a den of thieves.     Crandon paused as though searching for words with which to continue.     Did you notice the paintings in the waiting room as you entered?     Don nodded, too bewildered to speak.     They were donated by the founder of our Organization. They were partof his personal collection—which, incidentally, he bought from theartists themselves. He also designed the atomic reactor we use forpower here in the laboratory.     Then the pictures are modern, said Don, aware that his mouth washanging open foolishly. I thought one was a Titian—     It is, said Crandon. We have several original Titians, although Ireally don't know too much about them.     But how could a man alive      today     buy paintings from an artist of theRenaissance?     He is not alive today. POSAT is actually what our advertisementsclaim—an      ancient     secret society. Our founder has been dead for overfour centuries.     But you said that he designed your atomic reactor.     Yes. This particular one has been in use for only twenty years,however.     Don's confusion was complete. Crandon looked at him kindly. Let'sstart at the beginning, he said, and Don was back again in theclassroom with the deep voice of Professor Crandon unfolding thepages of knowledge in clear and logical manner. Four hundred yearsago, in the time of the Italian Renaissance, a man lived who was asuper-genius. His was the kind of incredible mentality that appears notin every generation, or even every century, but once in thousands ofyears.     Probably the man who invented what we call the phonetic alphabet wasone like him. That man lived seven thousand years ago in Mesopotamia,and his discovery was so original, so far from the natural courseof man's thinking, that not once in the intervening seven thousandyears has that device been rediscovered. It still exists only in thecivilizations to which it has been passed on directly.     The super-genius who was our founder was not a semanticist. He wasa physical scientist and mathematician. Starting with the meagerheritage that existed in these fields in his time, he began tacklingphysical puzzles one by one. Sitting in his study, using as hisprincipal tool his own great mind, he invented calculus, developed thequantum theory of light, moved on to electromagnetic radiation and whatwe call Maxwell's equations—although, of course, he antedated Maxwellby centuries—developed the special and general theories of relativity,the tool of wave mechanics, and finally, toward the end of his life, hemathematically derived the packing fraction that describes the bindingenergy of nuclei—     But it can't be done, Don objected. It's an observed phenomenon. Ithasn't been derived. Every conservative instinct that he possessedcried out against this impossible fantasy. And yet—there sat thereactor, sheathed in its strange shield. Crandon watched the directionof Don's glance.     Yes, the reactor, said Crandon. He built one like it. It confirmedhis theories. His calculations showed him something else too. He sawthe destructive potentialities of an atomic explosion. He himself couldnot have built an atomic bomb; he didn't have the facilities. But hisknowledge would have enabled other men to do so. He looked abouthim. He saw a political setup of warring principalities, rival states,intrigue, and squabbles over political power. Giving the men of histime atomic energy would have been like handing a baby a firecrackerwith a lighted fuse.     What should he have done? Let his secrets die with him? Hedidn't think so. No one else in his age could have      derived     theknowledge that he did. But it was an age of brilliant men. Leonardo.Michelangelo. There were men capable of      learning     his science, even asmen can learn it today. He gathered some of them together and foundedthis society. It served two purposes. It perpetuated his discoveriesand at the same time it maintained the greatest secrecy about them. Heurged that the secrets be kept until the time when men could use themsafely. The other purpose was to make that time come about as soon aspossible.     Crandon looked at Don's unbelieving face. How can I make you see thatit is the truth? Think of the eons that man or manlike creatures havewalked the Earth. Think what a small fraction of that time is fourhundred years. Is it so strange that atomic energy was discovered alittle early, by this displacement in time that is so tiny after all?     But by one man, Don argued.     Crandon shrugged. Compared with him, Don, you and I are stupid men.So are the scientists who slowly plodded down the same road he hadcome, stumbling first on one truth and then the succeeding one. We knowthat inventions and discoveries do not occur at random. Each is basedon the one that preceded it. We are all aware of the phenomenon ofsimultaneous invention. The path to truth is a straight one. It is onlyour own stupidity that makes it seem slow and tortuous.     He merely followed the straight path, Crandon finished simply.  <doc-sep>The lady drew herself up and jutted an indignant brow at him. Sir!This is a church!     Oh—I see—excuse me, I, I, I— Matheny backed out of the crowd,shuddering. He looked around for some place to hide his burning ears.     You forgot your chips, pal, said a voice.     Oh. Thanks. Thanks ever so much. I, I, that is— Matheny cursedhis knotting tongue.      Damn it, just because they're so much moresophisticated than I, do I have to talk like a leaky boiler?       The helpful Earthman was not tall. He was dark and chisel-faced andsleekly pomaded, dapper in blue pajamas with a red zigzag, a sleighbellcloak and curly-toed slippers.     You're from Mars, aren't you? he asked in the friendliest toneMatheny had yet heard.     Yes. Yes, I am. M-my name's Peter Matheny. I, I— He stuck out hishand to shake and chips rolled over the floor. Damn! Oh, excuse me, Iforgot this was a church. Never mind the chips. No, please. I just wantto g-g-get the hell out of here.     Good idea. How about a drink? I know a bar downshaft.     Matheny sighed. A drink is what I need the very most.     My name's Doran. Gus Doran. Call me Gus.     They walked back to the deaconette's booth and Matheny cashed whatremained of his winnings.     I don't want to—I mean if you're busy tonight, Mr. Doran—     Nah. I am not doing one thing in particular. Besides, I have never meta Martian. I am very interested.     There aren't many of us on Earth, agreed Matheny. Just a smallembassy staff and an occasional like me.     I should think you would do a lot of traveling here. The old motherplanet and so on.     We can't afford it, said Matheny. What with gravitation anddistance, such voyages are much too expensive for us to make them forpleasure. Not to mention our dollar shortage. As they entered theshaft, he added wistfully: You Earth people have that kind of money,at least in your more prosperous brackets. Why don't you send a fewtourists to us?     I always wanted to, said Doran. I would like to see the what theycall City of Time, and so on. As a matter of fact, I have given mygirl one of those Old Martian rings last Ike's Birthday and she wasjust gazoo about it. A jewel dug out of the City of Time, like,made a million years ago by a, uh, extinct race ... I tell you, she      appreciated     me for it! He winked and nudged.     Oh, said Matheny.  <doc-sep>He could tell from their looks that the others did, but couldn't bringthemselves to put it into words.     I suppose it's the time-scale and the value-scale that are so hard forus to accept, he said softly. Much more, even, than the size-scale.The thought that there are creatures in the Universe to whom the wholecareer of Man—in fact, the whole career of life—is no more than a fewthousand or hundred thousand years. And to whom Man is no more than aminor stage property—a trifling part of a clever job of camouflage.     This time he went on, Fantasy writers have at times hinted all sortsof odd things about the Earth—that it might even be a kind of singleliving creature, or honeycombed with inhabited caverns, and so on.But I don't know that any of them have ever suggested that the Earth,together with all the planets and moons of the Solar System, mightbe....     In a whisper, Frieda finished for him, ... a camouflaged fleet ofgigantic spherical spaceships.           Your guess happens to be the precise truth.          At that familiar, yet dreadly unfamiliar voice, all four of them swungtoward the inner door. Dotty was standing there, a sleep-stupefiedlittle girl with a blanket caught up around her and dragging behind.Their own daughter. But in her eyes was a look from which they cringed.     She said, I am a creature somewhat older than what your geologistscall the Archeozoic Era. I am speaking to you through a number oftelepathically sensitive individuals among your kind. In each case mythoughts suit themselves to your level of comprehension. I inhabit thedisguised and jetless spaceship which is your Earth.     Celeste swayed a step forward. Baby.... she implored.     Dotty went on, without giving her a glance, It is true that we plantedthe seeds of life on some of these planets simply as part of ourcamouflage, just as we gave them a suitable environment for each. Andit is true that now we must let most of that life be destroyed. Ourhiding place has been discovered, our pursuers are upon us, and we mustmake one last effort to escape or do battle, since we firmly believethat the principle of mental privacy to which we have devoted ourexistence is perhaps the greatest good in the whole Universe.     But it is not true that we look with contempt upon you. Our whole raceis deeply devoted to life, wherever it may come into being, and it isour rule never to interfere with its development. That was one ofthe reasons we made life a part of our camouflage—it would make ourpursuers reluctant to examine these planets too closely.     Yes, we have always cherished you and watched your evolution withinterest from our hidden lairs. We may even unconsciously have shapedyour development in certain ways, trying constantly to educate you awayfrom war and finally succeeding—which may have given the betrayingclue to our pursuers.     Your planets must be burst asunder—this particular planet in thearea of the Pacific—so that we may have our last chance to escape.Even if we did not move, our pursuers would destroy you with us. Wecannot invite you inside our ships—not for lack of space, but becauseyou could never survive the vast accelerations to which you would besubjected. You would, you see, need very special accommodations, ofwhich we have enough only for a few.     Those few we will take with us, as the seed from which a new humanrace may—if we ourselves somehow survive—be born.  <doc-sep>Most of the cousins gasped as the truth began to percolate through.     I knew from the very beginning, Conrad finished, that I didn'thave to do anything at all. I just had to wait and you would destroyyourselves.     I don't understand, Bartholomew protested, searching the faces of thecousins closest to him. What does he mean, we have never existed?We're here, aren't we? What—     Shut up! Raymond snapped. He turned on Martin. You don't seemsurprised.     The old man grinned. I'm not. I figured it all out years ago.     At first, he had wondered what he should do. Would it be better tothrow them into a futile panic by telling them or to do nothing? Hehad decided on the latter; that was the role they had assigned him—towatch and wait and keep out of things—and that was the role he wouldplay.     You knew all the time and you didn't tell us! Raymond spluttered.After we'd been so good to you, making a gentleman out of you insteadof a criminal.... That's right, he snarled, a criminal! An alcoholic,a thief, a derelict! How do you like that?     Sounds like a rich, full life, Martin said wistfully.     What an exciting existence they must have done him out of! But then, hecouldn't help thinking, he—he and Conrad together, of course—had donethem out of      any     kind of existence. It wasn't his responsibility,though; he had done nothing but let matters take whatever course wasdestined for them. If only he could be sure that it was the bettercourse, perhaps he wouldn't feel that nagging sense of guilt insidehim. Strange—where, in his hermetic life, could he possibly havedeveloped such a queer thing as a conscience?     Then we've wasted all this time, Ninian sobbed, all this energy, allthis money, for nothing!     But you were nothing to begin with, Martin told them. And then,after a pause, he added, I only wish I could be sure there had beensome purpose to this.     He didn't know whether it was approaching death that dimmed his sight,or whether the frightened crowd that pressed around him was growingshadowy.     I wish I could feel that some good had been done in letting you bewiped out of existence, he went on voicing his thoughts. But I knowthat the same thing that happened to your worlds and my world willhappen all over again. To other people, in other times, but again. It'sbound to happen. There isn't any hope for humanity.     One man couldn't really change the course of human history, he toldhimself. Two men, that was—one real, one a shadow.     Conrad came close to the old man's bed. He was almost transparent.     No, he said, there is hope. They didn't know the time transmitterworks two ways. I used it for going into the past only once—just thisonce. But I've gone into the future with it many times. And— hepressed Martin's hand—believe me, what I did—what      we     did, you andI—serves a purpose. It will change things for the better. Everythingis going to be all right.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What kind of connection exists between Dark and Sim in THE CREATURES THAT TIME FORGOT?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What makes the planet unusual in THE CREATURES THAT TIME FORGOT? [SEP] <s>  He was  still weak days later whenCapt. Ron Small of SP-101 said,     Yes, Karyl, it's ironical. They fed youwhat they thought was sure death, and it'sthe only thing that kept you going longenough to warn us.     I was dumb for a long time, Karyl said.I thought that it was the acid, almost tothe very last. But when I drank that lastglass, I knew they didn't have a chance.     They were metal monsters. No wonderthey feared that liquid. It would rust theirjoints, short their wiring, and kill them.No wonder they stared when I kept aliveafter drinking enough to completely annihilatea half-dozen of them.     But what happened when you met theship?     The space captain grinned.     Not much. Our crew was busy creatinga hollow shell filled with      water     to be shotout of a rocket tube converted into a projectilethrower.     These Steel-Blues, as you call them, puttraction beams on us and started tugging ustoward the asteroid. We tried a couple ofatomic shots but when they just glanced off,we gave up.     They weren't expecting the shell ofwater. When it hit that blue ship, you couldalmost see it oxidize before your eyes.     I guess they knew what was wrong rightaway. They let go the traction beams andtried to get away. They forgot about theforce field, so we just poured atomic fireinto the weakening ship. It just meltedaway.     Jon Karyl got up from the divan wherehe'd been lying. They thought I was ametal creature, too. But where do you supposethey came from?     The captain shrugged. Who knows?     Jon set two glasses on the table.     Have a drink of the best damn water inthe solar system? He asked Capt. Small.     Don't mind if I do.     The water twinkled in the two glasses,winking as if it knew just what it haddone.     Transcriber's Note:   This etext was produced from    Planet Stories   July 1952.Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling andtypographical errors have been corrected without note.<doc-sep>class=chap/>    2.     If you have explored the weird life of many a planet, as I have, youcan appreciate the deep sense of excitement that comes over me when,looking out at a new world for the first time, I see a man-like animal.     Walking upright!     Wearing adornments in the nature of clothing!     I gazed, and my lungs filled with the breath of wonderment. A man!Across millions of miles of space—a man, like the men of the Earth.     Six times before in my life of exploration I had gazed at new realmswithin the approachable parts of our universe, but never before had theliving creatures borne such wonderful resemblance to the human life ofour Earth.     A man!     He might have been creeping on all fours.     He might have been skulking like a lesser animal.     He might have been entirely naked.     He was none of these—and at the very first moment of viewing him Ifelt a kinship toward him. Oh, he was primitive in appearance—but hadmy ancestors not been the same? Was this not a mirror of my own racea million years or so ago? I sensed that my own stream of life hadsomehow crossed with his in ages gone by. How? Who can ever know? Bywhat faded charts of the movements through the sky will man ever beable to retrace relationships of forms of life among planets?     Get ready to go out and meet him, Campbell, I said. He's a friend.     Split Campbell gave me a look as if to say, Sir, you don't even knowwhat sort of animal he is, actually, much less whether he's friendly ormurderous.     There are some things I can sense on first sight, Campbell. Take myword for it, he's a friend.     I didn't say anything, sir.     Good. Don't. Just get ready.     We're going to go      out     —?     Yes, I said. Orders.     And meet both of them? Split was at the telescope.     Both? I took the instrument from him. Both! Well!     They seem to be coming out of the ground, Split said. I see no signsof habitation, but apparently we've landed on top of an undergroundcity—though I hasten to add that this is only an hypothesis.     One's a male and the other's a female, I said.     Another hypothesis, said Split.     The late evening sunshine gave us a clear view of our two friends.They were fully a mile away. Split was certain they had not seen ourship, and to this conclusion I was in agreement. They had apparentlycome up out of the barren rock hillside to view the sunset. I studiedthem through the telescope while Split checked over equipment for ahike.     The man's walk was unhurried. He moved thoughtfully, one mightguess. His bare chest and legs showed him to be statuesque in mold,cleanly muscled, fine of bone. His skin was almost the color of thecream-colored robe which flowed from his back, whipping lightly inthe breeze. He wore a brilliant red sash about his middle, and thiswas matched by a red headdress that came down over his shoulders as acircular mantle.     The girl stood several yards distant, watching him. This was somesort of ritual, no doubt. He was not concerned with her, but with thesetting sun. Its rays were almost horizontal, knifing through a breakin the distant mountain skyline. He went through some routine motions,his moving arms highlighted by the lemon-colored light of evening.     The girl approached him. Two other persons appeared from somewhere backof her.... Three.... Four.... Five....     Where do they come from? Split had paused in the act of checkingequipment to take his turn at the telescope. If he had not done so, Imight not have made a discovery. The landscape was      moving     .     The long shadows that I had not noticed through the telescope were aprominent part of the picture I saw through the ship's window when Ilooked out across the scene with the naked eye. The shadows were moving.     They were tree shadows. They were moving toward the clearing where thecrowd gathered. And the reason for their movement was that the treesthemselves were moving.     Notice anything? I asked Split.     The crowd is growing. We've certainly landed on top of a city. Hegazed. They're coming from underground.     Looking through the telescope, obviously he didn't catch the view ofthe moving trees.     Notice anything else unusual? I persisted.     Yes. The females—I'm speaking hypothetically—but they      must     befemales—are all wearing puffy white fur ornaments around their elbows.I wonder why?     You haven't noticed the trees?     The females are quite attractive, said Split.     I forgot about the moving trees, then, and took over the telescope.Mobile trees were not new to me. I had seen similar vegetation on otherplanets—sponge-trees—which possessed a sort of muscular quality. Ifthese were similar, they were no doubt feeding along the surface of theslope below the rocky plateau. The people in the clearing beyond paidno attention to them.     I studied the crowd of people. Only the leader wore the brilliant garb.The others were more scantily clothed. All were handsome of build. Thelemon-tinted sunlight glanced off the muscular shoulders of the malesand the soft curves of the females.     Those furry elbow ornaments on the females, I said to Split,they're for protection. The caves they live in must be narrow, sothey pad their elbows.     Why don't they pad their shoulders? They don't have anything on theirshoulders.     Are you complaining?     We became fascinated in watching, from the seclusion of our ship. If wewere to walk out, or make any sounds, we might have interrupted theirmeeting. Here they were in their native ritual of sunset, not knowingthat people from another world watched. The tall leader must be makinga speech. They sat around him in little huddles. He moved his arms incalm, graceful gestures.     They'd better break it up! Split said suddenly. The jungles aremoving in on them.     They're spellbound, I said. They're used to sponge-trees. Didn't youever see moving trees?     Split said sharply, Those trees are marching! They're an army undercover. Look!     I saw, then. The whole line of advancing vegetation was camouflage fora sneak attack. And all those natives sitting around in meeting were asinnocent as a flock of sitting ducks. Split Campbell's voice was edgedwith alarm. Captain! Those worshippers—how can we warn them? Oh-oh!Too late. Look!     All at once the advancing sponge-trees were tossed back over the headsof the savage band concealed within. They were warriors—fifty or moreof them—with painted naked bodies. They dashed forward in a widesemicircle, swinging crude weapons, bent on slaughter.  <doc-sep>The lady drew herself up and jutted an indignant brow at him. Sir!This is a church!     Oh—I see—excuse me, I, I, I— Matheny backed out of the crowd,shuddering. He looked around for some place to hide his burning ears.     You forgot your chips, pal, said a voice.     Oh. Thanks. Thanks ever so much. I, I, that is— Matheny cursedhis knotting tongue.      Damn it, just because they're so much moresophisticated than I, do I have to talk like a leaky boiler?       The helpful Earthman was not tall. He was dark and chisel-faced andsleekly pomaded, dapper in blue pajamas with a red zigzag, a sleighbellcloak and curly-toed slippers.     You're from Mars, aren't you? he asked in the friendliest toneMatheny had yet heard.     Yes. Yes, I am. M-my name's Peter Matheny. I, I— He stuck out hishand to shake and chips rolled over the floor. Damn! Oh, excuse me, Iforgot this was a church. Never mind the chips. No, please. I just wantto g-g-get the hell out of here.     Good idea. How about a drink? I know a bar downshaft.     Matheny sighed. A drink is what I need the very most.     My name's Doran. Gus Doran. Call me Gus.     They walked back to the deaconette's booth and Matheny cashed whatremained of his winnings.     I don't want to—I mean if you're busy tonight, Mr. Doran—     Nah. I am not doing one thing in particular. Besides, I have never meta Martian. I am very interested.     There aren't many of us on Earth, agreed Matheny. Just a smallembassy staff and an occasional like me.     I should think you would do a lot of traveling here. The old motherplanet and so on.     We can't afford it, said Matheny. What with gravitation anddistance, such voyages are much too expensive for us to make them forpleasure. Not to mention our dollar shortage. As they entered theshaft, he added wistfully: You Earth people have that kind of money,at least in your more prosperous brackets. Why don't you send a fewtourists to us?     I always wanted to, said Doran. I would like to see the what theycall City of Time, and so on. As a matter of fact, I have given mygirl one of those Old Martian rings last Ike's Birthday and she wasjust gazoo about it. A jewel dug out of the City of Time, like,made a million years ago by a, uh, extinct race ... I tell you, she      appreciated     me for it! He winked and nudged.     Oh, said Matheny.  <doc-sep>He could tell from their looks that the others did, but couldn't bringthemselves to put it into words.     I suppose it's the time-scale and the value-scale that are so hard forus to accept, he said softly. Much more, even, than the size-scale.The thought that there are creatures in the Universe to whom the wholecareer of Man—in fact, the whole career of life—is no more than a fewthousand or hundred thousand years. And to whom Man is no more than aminor stage property—a trifling part of a clever job of camouflage.     This time he went on, Fantasy writers have at times hinted all sortsof odd things about the Earth—that it might even be a kind of singleliving creature, or honeycombed with inhabited caverns, and so on.But I don't know that any of them have ever suggested that the Earth,together with all the planets and moons of the Solar System, mightbe....     In a whisper, Frieda finished for him, ... a camouflaged fleet ofgigantic spherical spaceships.           Your guess happens to be the precise truth.          At that familiar, yet dreadly unfamiliar voice, all four of them swungtoward the inner door. Dotty was standing there, a sleep-stupefiedlittle girl with a blanket caught up around her and dragging behind.Their own daughter. But in her eyes was a look from which they cringed.     She said, I am a creature somewhat older than what your geologistscall the Archeozoic Era. I am speaking to you through a number oftelepathically sensitive individuals among your kind. In each case mythoughts suit themselves to your level of comprehension. I inhabit thedisguised and jetless spaceship which is your Earth.     Celeste swayed a step forward. Baby.... she implored.     Dotty went on, without giving her a glance, It is true that we plantedthe seeds of life on some of these planets simply as part of ourcamouflage, just as we gave them a suitable environment for each. Andit is true that now we must let most of that life be destroyed. Ourhiding place has been discovered, our pursuers are upon us, and we mustmake one last effort to escape or do battle, since we firmly believethat the principle of mental privacy to which we have devoted ourexistence is perhaps the greatest good in the whole Universe.     But it is not true that we look with contempt upon you. Our whole raceis deeply devoted to life, wherever it may come into being, and it isour rule never to interfere with its development. That was one ofthe reasons we made life a part of our camouflage—it would make ourpursuers reluctant to examine these planets too closely.     Yes, we have always cherished you and watched your evolution withinterest from our hidden lairs. We may even unconsciously have shapedyour development in certain ways, trying constantly to educate you awayfrom war and finally succeeding—which may have given the betrayingclue to our pursuers.     Your planets must be burst asunder—this particular planet in thearea of the Pacific—so that we may have our last chance to escape.Even if we did not move, our pursuers would destroy you with us. Wecannot invite you inside our ships—not for lack of space, but becauseyou could never survive the vast accelerations to which you would besubjected. You would, you see, need very special accommodations, ofwhich we have enough only for a few.     Those few we will take with us, as the seed from which a new humanrace may—if we ourselves somehow survive—be born.  <doc-sep>Casper Craig was still dictating the gram:     Amazing quality of longevity seemingly inherent in the locale. Climateideal. Daylight or half-light. All twenty-one hours from PlanetDelphina and from Sol. Pure water for all industrial purposes. Scenicand storied. Zoning and pre-settlement restrictions to insure congenialneighbors. A completely planned globular settlement in a near arm ofour own galaxy. Low taxes and liberal credit. Financing our specialty—     And you had better have an armed escort when you return, said FatherBriton.     Why in cosmos would we want an armed escort?     It's as phony as a seven-credit note!     You, a man of the cloth doubt it? And us ready skeptics convinced byour senses? Why do you doubt?     It is only the unbelieving who believe so easily in obvious frauds.Theologically unsound, dramaturgically weak, philologically impossible,zoologically rigged, salted conspicuously with gold and shot throughwith anachronisms. And moreover he was afraid to play me at checkers.     What?     If I have a preternatural intellect I wouldn't be afraid of a game ofcheckers with anyone. Yet there was an unusual mind there somewhere; itwas just that he chose not to make our acquaintance personally.     They looked at the priest thoughtfully.     But it was Paradise in one way, said Steiner at last.     How?     All the time we were there the woman did not speak.  <doc-sep>The Earthmen remained for several weeks. During that time, Steffens wasusually with Elb, talking now as often as he listened, and the Alienconteam roamed the planet freely, investigating what was certainly thestrangest culture in history. There was still the mystery of thosebuildings on Tyban IV; that, as well as the robots' origin, would haveto be cleared up before they could leave.     Surprisingly, Steffens did not think about the future. Whenever he camenear a robot, he sensed such a general, comfortable air of good feelingthat it warmed him, and he was so preoccupied with watching the robotsthat he did little thinking.     Something he had not realized at the beginning was that he was asunusual to the robots as they were to him. It came to him with a greatshock that not one of the robots had ever seen a living thing. Not abug, a worm, a leaf. They did not know what flesh was. Only the doctorsknew that, and none of them could readily understand what was meant bythe words organic matter. It had taken them some time to recognizethat the Earthmen wore suits which were not parts of their bodies, andit was even more difficult for them to understand why the suits wereneeded.     But when they did understand, the robots did a surprising thing.     At first, because of the excessive radiation, none of the Earthmencould remain outside the ship for long, even in radiation suits. Andone morning, when Steffens came out of the ship, it was to discoverthat hundreds of the robots, working through the night, had effectivelydecontaminated the entire area.     It was at this point that Steffens asked how many robots there were.He learned to his amazement that there were more than nine million.The great mass of them had politely remained a great distance from theship, spread out over the planet, since they were highly radioactive.     Steffens, meanwhile, courteously allowed Elb to probe into his mind.The robot extracted all the knowledge of matter that Steffens held,pondered over the knowledge and tried to digest it, and passed it on tothe other robots. Steffens, in turn, had a difficult time picturing themind of a thing that had never known life.     He had a vague idea of the robot's history—more, perhaps, then theyknew themselves—but he refrained from forming an opinion untilAliencon made its report. What fascinated him was Elb's amazingphilosophy, the only outlook, really, that the robot could have had.  <doc-sep>They ushered the man and woman into the beamed and paneled councilchambers and sat them in thick chairs before the wall of polished wooddesks across which stared the line of faces, silent and waiting. Andon a far wall, facing them all, hung a silver screen, fifty feetsquare.     The President stood. Members of the council. He paused. As youheard, they report—complete failure. He turned to Michael. And now,the proof.     Michael stood beside the motion picture projector, close to his chair.The lights dimmed. There was only the sound of the pumps throbbing inthe darkness close and far away, above and beneath and all around.Suddenly on the screen appeared an endless depth of blackness filledwith a mass of glowing white, which extended into the room around thewatching people, seeming to touch them and then spreading, like anocean, farther away and out and out into an endless distance.     Now streaks of yellow fire shot into the picture, like a swarm oflightning bugs, the thin sharp nosed shadows of space ships, hurtling,like comets, toward the clustered star smear. And then silent thoughtsflashed from the screen into the minds of the spectators; of timepassing in months, years and centuries, passing and passing until theythemselves seemed to be rushing and rushing into the blackness towardblinding balls of white light, the size of moons.     The dark shapes of smaller spheres circling the blinding ones movedforward into the picture; red, blue, green, yellow, purple and manymixtures of all these, and then one planet filled the screen, seemingto be inflated, like a balloon, into a shining red ball. There was arazor edge of horizon then and pink sky and an expanse of crimson.Flat, yellow creatures lay all around, expanding and contracting. Aroaring rose and fell like the roaring of a million winds. Then fearflowed out of the picture into the minds of the watchers so that theygasped and cringed, and a silent voice told them that the atmosphereof this planet would disintegrate a human being.     Now the red ball seemed to pull away from them into the blackness andthe blinding balls of light, and all around could be seen the streaksof rocket flame shooting away in all directions.     Suddenly a flash cut the blackness, like the flare of a match, anddied, and the watchers caught from the screen the awareness of thedeath of a ship.     They were also aware of the rushing of time through centuries and theysaw the streaking rocket flames and planets rushing at them; sawcreatures in squares and circles, in threads wriggling, in lumps andblobs, rolling jumping and crawling; saw them in cloud forms whiskingabout, changing their shapes, and in flowing wavelets of water. Theysaw creatures hopping about on one leg and others crawling atincredible speeds on a thousand; saw some with all the numbers of legsand arms in between; and were aware of creatures that were there butinvisible.     And those watching the screen on which time and distance were acompressed and distilled kaleidoscope, saw planet after planet andthousands at a time; heard strange noises; rasping and roaring, clinksand whistles, screams and crying, sighing and moaning. And they wereaware through all this of atmosphere and ground inimical to man, somethat would evaporate at the touch of a human body, or would burst intoflame, or swallow, or turn from liquid to solid or solid to liquid.They saw and heard chemical analyses, were aware of this ocean ofblackness and clouds of white through which man might move, and mustever move, because he could live only upon this floating dust speckthat was Earth.     The picture faded in, close to one of the long, needle nosed crafts,showing inside, a man and a woman. Time was telescoped again while theman cut a tiny piece of scar tissue from his arm and that of thewoman, put them in bottles and set them into compartments wheresolutions dripped rhythmically into the bottles, the temperature washeld at that of the human body, and synthetic sunlight focused uponthem from many pencil like tubes.     The watchers in the council chamber saw the bits of tissue swell intohuman embryos in a few seconds, and grow arms and legs and faces andextend themselves into babies. Saw them taken from the bottles andcared for, and become replicas of the man and woman controlling theship, who, all this time were aging, until life went out of theirbodies. Then the ones who had been the scar tissue disintegrated themin the coffin-like tubes and let their dust be sucked out intospace—all this through millions of miles and a hundred years,compressed for the watchers into sixty seconds and a few feet ofspace.     Instantly there was black space on the screen again, with the fingersof flame pointing out behind the dark bodies of the ships.     And then the spectators saw one ship shudder and swerve into ablazing, bluish white star, like a gnat flying into a white hot poker;saw another drop away and away, out and out into the blackness pastthe swirling white rim of the galaxy, and sink into a darknothingness.     Great balls of rock showered like hail onto other ships, smashing theminto grotesque tin cans. The stream of fire at the tail of anothership suddenly died and the ship floated into an orbit around a great,yellow planet, ten times the size of Jupiter, then was sucked into it.Another burst like a bomb, flinging a man and woman out into thedarkness, where they hung suspended, frozen into statues, like bodiesdrowned in the depths of an Arctic sea.     At this instant from the watching council, there were screams ofhorror and voices crying out, Shut it off! Shut it off! There was amoving about in the darkness. Murmurs and harsh cries of disapprovalgrew in volume.     Another ship in the picture was split down the side by a meteor andthe bodies inside were impaled on jagged blades of steel, thecontorted, bloody faces lighted by bursts of flame. And the screamsand cries of the spectators rose higher, Shut it off.... Oh Lord....     Lights flashed through the room and the picture died.  <doc-sep>The animals stopped so suddenly that Purnie nearly tangled himself intheir heels.     All right, Forbes, just hold it a minute. Listen to me. Sure, it'syour money that put us here; it's your expedition all the way. But youhired me to get you here with the best crew on earth, and that's justwhat I've done. My job isn't over yet. I'm responsible for the safetyof the men while we're here, and for the safe trip home.     Precisely. And since you're responsible, get 'em working. Tell 'em tobring along the flag. Look at the damn fools back there, playing in theocean with a three-legged ostrich!     Good God, man, aren't you human? We've only been on this planet twentyminutes! Naturally they want to look around. They half expected to findwild animals or worse, and here we are surrounded by quaint littlecreatures that run up to us like we're long-lost brothers. Let the menlook around a minute or two before we stake out your claim.     Bah! Bunch of damn children.     As Purnie followed along, a leg shot out at him and missed. Benson,will you get this bug-eyed kangaroo away from me! Purnie shrieked withjoy at this new frolic and promptly stood on his head. In this positionhe got an upside down view of them walking away.     He gave up trying to stay with them. Why did they move so fast, anyway?What was the hurry? As he sat down and began eating his lunch, threemore of the creatures came along making excited noises, apparentlytrying to catch up to the first two. As they passed him, he held outhis lunch. Want some? No response.     Playing held more promise than eating. He left his lunch half eaten andwent down to where they had stopped further along the beach.     Captain Benson, sir! Miles has detected strong radiation in thevicinity. He's trying to locate it now.     There you are, Forbes. Your new piece of real estate is going to makeyou so rich that you can buy your next planet. That'll make eighteen, Ibelieve.     Radiation, bah! We've found low-grade ore on every planet I'vediscovered so far, and this one'll be no different. Now how about thatflag? Let's get it up, Benson. And the cornerstone, and the plaque.     All right, lads. The sooner we get Mr. Forbes's pennant raised and hisclaim staked out, the sooner we can take time to look around. Livelynow!  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What makes the planet unusual in THE CREATURES THAT TIME FORGOT?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How does Sim acquire his knowledge and perceive his environment in THE CREATURES THAT TIME FORGOT? [SEP] <s>The violence of this thought evacuated his bowels. Eight days. Eight      short     days. It was wrong, impossible, but a fact. Even while in hismother's flesh some racial knowledge had told him he was being formedrapidly, shaped and propelled out swiftly.     Birth was quick as a knife. Childhood was over in a flash. Adolescencewas a sheet of lightning. Manhood was a dream, maturity a myth, old agean inescapably quick reality, death a swift certainty.     Eight days from now he'd stand half-blind, withering, dying, as hisfather now stood, staring uselessly at his own wife and child.     This day was an eighth part of his total life! He must enjoy everysecond of it. He must search his parents' thoughts for knowledge.       Because in a few hours they'd be dead.       This was so impossibly unfair. Was this all of life? In his prenatalstate hadn't he dreamed of      long     lives, valleys not of blasted stonebut green foliage and temperate clime? Yes! And if he'd dreamed thenthere must be truth in the visions. How could he seek and find the longlife? Where? And how could he accomplish a life mission that huge anddepressing in eight short, vanishing days?     How had his people gotten into such a condition?     As if at a button pressed, he saw an image. Metal seeds, blown acrossspace from a distant green world, fighting with long flames, crashingon this bleak planet. From their shattered hulls tumble men and women.     When? Long ago. Ten thousand days. The crash victims hid in the cliffsfrom the sun. Fire, ice and floods washed away the wreckage of thehuge metal seeds. The victims were shaped and beaten like iron upona forge. Solar radiations drenched them. Their pulses quickened,two hundred, five hundred, a thousand beats a minute. Their skinsthickened, their blood changed. Old age came rushing. Children wereborn in the caves. Swifter, swifter, swifter the process. Like all thisworld's wild life, the men and women from the crash lived and died in aweek, leaving children to do likewise.     So this is life, thought Sim. It was not spoken in his mind, forhe knew no words, he knew only images, old memory, an awareness, atelepathy that could penetrate flesh, rock, metal. So I'm the fivethousandth in a long line of futile sons? What can I do to save myselffrom dying eight days from now? Is there escape?     His eyes widened, another image came to focus.     Beyond this valley of cliffs, on a low mountain lay a perfect,unscarred metal seed. A metal ship, not rusted or touched by theavalanches. The ship was deserted, whole, intact. It was the only shipof all these that had crashed that was still a unit, still usable. Butit was so far away. There was no one in it to help. This ship, then, onthe far mountain, was the destiny toward which he would grow. There washis only hope of escape.     His mind flexed.     In this cliff, deep down in a confinement of solitude, worked a handfulof scientists. To these men, when he was old enough and wise enough, hemust go. They, too, dreamed of escape, of long life, of green valleysand temperate weathers. They, too, stared longingly at that distantship upon its high mountain, its metal so perfect it did not rust orage.     The cliff groaned.     Sim's father lifted his eroded, lifeless face.     Dawn's coming, he said.      II     Morning relaxed the mighty granite cliff muscles. It was the time ofthe Avalanche.     The tunnels echoed to running bare feet. Adults, children pushed witheager, hungry eyes toward the outside dawn. From far out, Sim hearda rumble of rock, a scream, a silence. Avalanches fell into valley.Stones that had been biding their time, not quite ready to fall, fora million years let go their bulks, and where they had begun theirjourney as single boulders they smashed upon the valley floor in athousand shrapnels and friction-heated nuggets.     Every morning at least one person was caught in the downpour.     The cliff people dared the avalanches. It added one more excitement totheir lives, already too short, too headlong, too dangerous.     Sim felt himself seized up by his father. He was carried brusquely downthe tunnel for a thousand yards, to where the daylight appeared. Therewas a shining insane light in his father's eyes. Sim could not move. Hesensed what was going to happen. Behind his father, his mother hurried,bringing with her the little sister, Dark. Wait! Be careful! shecried to her husband.     Sim felt his father crouch, listening.     High in the cliff was a tremor, a shivering.     Now! bellowed his father, and leaped out.     An avalanche fell down at them!     Sim had accelerated impressions of plunging walls, dust, confusion. Hismother screamed! There was a jolting, a plunging.     With one last step, Sim's father hurried him forward into the day. Theavalanche thundered behind him. The mouth of the cave, where mother andDark stood back out of the way, was choked with rubble and two bouldersthat weighed a hundred pounds each.     The storm thunder of the avalanche passed away to a trickle of sand.Sim's father burst out into laughter. Made it! By the Gods! Made italive! And he looked scornfully at the cliff and spat. Pagh!     Mother and sister Dark struggled through the rubble. She cursed herhusband. Fool! You might have killed Sim!     I may yet, retorted the father.     Sim was not listening. He was fascinated with the remains of anavalanche afront of the next tunnel. A blood stain trickled out fromunder a rise of boulders, soaking into the ground. There was nothingelse to be seen. Someone else had lost the game.     Dark ran ahead on lithe, supple feet, naked and certain.     The valley air was like a wine filtered between mountains. The heavenwas a restive blue; not the pale scorched atmosphere of full day, northe bloated, bruised black-purple of night, a-riot with sickly shiningstars.     This was a tide pool. A place where waves of varying and violenttemperatures struck, receded. Now the tide pool was quiet, cool, andits life moved abroad.     Laughter! Far away, Sim heard it. Why laughter? How could any of hispeople find time for laughing? Perhaps later he would discover why.     The valley suddenly blushed with impulsive color. Plant-life, thawingin the precipitant dawn, shoved out from most unexpected sources. Itflowered as you watched. Pale green tendrils appeared on scoured rocks.Seconds later, ripe globes of fruit twitched upon the blade-tips.Father gave Sim over to mother and harvested the momentary, volatilecrop, thrust scarlet, blue, yellow fruits into a fur sack which hung athis waist. Mother tugged at the moist new grasses, laid them on Sim'stongue.     His senses were being honed to a fine edge. He stored knowledgethirstily. He understood love, marriage, customs, anger, pity, rage,selfishness, shadings and subtleties, realities and reflections. Onething suggested another. The sight of green plant life whirled his mindlike a gyroscope, seeking balance in a world where lack of time forexplanations made a mind seek and interpret on its own. The soft burdenof food gave him knowledge of his system, of energy, of movement. Likea bird newly cracking its way from a shell, he was almost a unit,complete, all-knowing. Heredity had done all this for him. He grewexcited with his ability.  <doc-sep>  THE CREATURES THAT TIME FORGOT     By RAY BRADBURY     Mad, impossible world! Sun-blasted by day,     cold-wracked by night—and life condensed by     radiation into eight days! Sim eyed the     Ship—if he only dared reach it and     escape! ... but it was more than half an     hour distant—the limit of life itself!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1946.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      During the night, Sim was born. He lay wailing upon the cold cavestones. His blood beat through him a thousand pulses each minute. Hegrew, steadily.     Into his mouth his mother with feverish hands put the food. Thenightmare of living was begun. Almost instantly at birth his eyes grewalert, and then, without half understanding why, filled with bright,insistent terror. He gagged upon the food, choked and wailed. He lookedabout, blindly.     There was a thick fog. It cleared. The outlines of the cave appeared.And a man loomed up, insane and wild and terrible. A man with a dyingface. Old, withered by winds, baked like adobe in the heat. The man wascrouched in a far corner of the cave, his eyes whitening to one side ofhis face, listening to the far wind trumpeting up above on the frozennight planet.     Sim's mother, trembling, now and again, staring at the man, fed Simpebble-fruits, valley-grasses and ice-nipples broken from the cavernentrances, and eating, eliminating, eating again, he grew larger,larger.     The man in the corner of the cave was his father! The man's eyes wereall that was alive in his face. He held a crude stone dagger in hiswithered hands and his jaw hung loose and senseless.     Then, with a widening focus, Sim saw the old people sitting in thetunnel beyond this living quarter. And as he watched, they began to die.     Their agonies filled the cave. They melted like waxen images, theirfaces collapsed inward on their sharp bones, their teeth protruded. Oneminute their faces were mature, fairly smooth, alive, electric. Thenext minute a desication and burning away of their flesh occurred.     Sim thrashed in his mother's grasp. She held him. No, no, she soothedhim, quietly, earnestly, looking to see if this, too, would cause herhusband to rise again.     With a soft swift padding of naked feet, Sim's father ran across thecave. Sim's mother screamed. Sim felt himself torn loose from hergrasp. He fell upon the stones, rolling, shrieking with his new, moistlungs!        With a soft padding of naked feet Sim's father ran across the cave.        The webbed face of his father jerked over him, the knife was poised.It was like one of those prenatal nightmares he'd had while stillin his mother's flesh. In the next few blazing, impossible instantsquestions flicked through his brain. The knife was high, suspended,ready to destroy him. But the whole question of life in this cave, thedying people, the withering and the insanity, surged through Sim'snew, small head. How was it that he understood? A newborn child? Can anewborn child think, see, understand, interpret? No. It was wrong! Itwas impossible. Yet it was happening! To him. He had been alive an hournow. And in the next instant perhaps dead!     His mother flung herself upon the back of his father, and beat down theweapon. Sim caught the terrific backwash of emotion from both theirconflicting minds. Let me kill him! shouted the father, breathingharshly, sobbingly. What has he to live for?     No, no! insisted the mother, and her body, frail and old as it was,stretched across the huge body of the father, tearing at his weapon.He must live! There may be a future for him! He may live longer thanus, and be young!     The father fell back against a stone crib. Lying there, staring,eyes glittering, Sim saw another figure inside that stone crib. Agirl-child, quietly feeding itself, moving its delicate hands toprocure food. His sister.     The mother wrenched the dagger from her husband's grasp, stood up,weeping and pushing back her cloud of stiffening gray hair. Her mouthtrembled and jerked. I'll kill you! she said, glaring down at herhusband. Leave my children alone.     The old man spat tiredly, bitterly, and looked vacantly into the stonecrib, at the little girl. One-eighth of      her     life's over, already,he gasped. And she doesn't know it. What's the use?     As Sim watched, his own mother seemed to shift and take a tortured,smoke-like form. The thin bony face broke out into a maze of wrinkles.She was shaken with pain and had to sit by him, shuddering and cuddlingthe knife to her shriveled breasts. She, like the old people in thetunnel, was aging, dying.     Sim cried steadily. Everywhere he looked was horror. A mind came tomeet his own. Instinctively he glanced toward the stone crib. Dark, hissister, returned his glance. Their minds brushed like straying fingers.He relaxed somewhat. He began to learn.     The father sighed, shut his lids down over his green eyes. Feed thechild, he said, exhaustedly. Hurry. It is almost dawn and it is ourlast day of living, woman. Feed him. Make him grow.     Sim quieted, and images, out of the terror, floated to him.     This was a planet next to the sun. The nights burned with cold, thedays were like torches of fire. It was a violent, impossible world. Thepeople lived in the cliffs to escape the incredible ice and the day offlame. Only at dawn and sunset was the air breath-sweet, flower-strong,and then the cave peoples brought their children out into a stony,barren valley. At dawn the ice thawed into creeks and rivers, at sunsetthe day-fires died and cooled. In the intervals of even, livabletemperature the people lived, ran, played, loved, free of the caverns;all life on the planet jumped, burst into life. Plants grew instantly,birds were flung like pellets across the sky. Smaller, legged animallife rushed frantically through the rocks; everything tried to getits living down in the brief hour of respite.     It was an unbearable planet. Sim understood this, a matter of hoursafter birth. Racial memory bloomed in him. He would live his entirelife in the caves, with two hours a day outside. Here, in stonechannels of air he would talk, talk incessantly with his people, sleepnever, think, think and lie upon his back, dreaming; but never sleeping.       And he would live exactly eight days.    <doc-sep>All day the sun seemed to blaze and erupt into the valley. Sim couldnot see it, but the vivid pictorials in his parents' minds weresufficient evidence of the nature of the day fire. The light ran likemercury, sizzling and roasting the caves, poking inward, but neverpenetrating deeply enough. It lighted the caves. It made the hollows ofthe cliff comfortably warm.     Sim fought to keep his parents young. But no matter how hard he foughtwith mind and image, they became like mummies before him. His fatherseemed to dissolve from one stage of oldness to another. This is whatwill happen to me soon, though Sim in terror.     Sim grew upon himself. He felt the digestive-eliminatory movementsof his body. He was fed every minute, he was continually swallowing,feeding. He began to fit words to images and processes. Such a word waslove. It was not an abstraction, but a process, a stir of breath, asmell of morning air, a flutter of heart, the curve of arm holding him,the look in the suspended face of his mother. He saw the processes,then searched behind her suspended face and there was the word, in herbrain, ready to use. His throat prepared to speak. Life was pushinghim, rushing him along toward oblivion.     He sensed the expansion of his fingernails, the adjustments of hiscells, the profusion of his hair, the multiplication of his bones andsinew, the grooving of the soft pale wax of his brain. His brain atbirth as clear as a circle of ice, innocent, unmarked, was, an instantlater, as if hit with a thrown rock, cracked and marked and patternedin a million crevices of thought and discovery.     His sister, Dark, ran in and out with other little hothouse children,forever eating. His mother trembled over him, not eating, she had noappetite, her eyes were webbed shut.     Sunset, said his father, at last.     The day was over. The light faded, a wind sounded.     His mother arose. I want to see the outside world once more ... justonce more.... She stared blindly, shivering.     His father's eyes were shut, he lay against the wall.     I cannot rise, he whispered faintly. I cannot.     Dark! The mother croaked, the girl came running. Here, and Sim washanded to the girl. Hold to Sim, Dark, feed him, care for him. Shegave Sim one last fondling touch.     Dark said not a word, holding Sim, her great green eyes shining wetly.     Go now, said the mother. Take him out into the sunset time. Enjoyyourselves. Pick foods, eat. Play.     Dark walked away without looking back. Sim twisted in her grasp,looking over her shoulder with unbelieving, tragic eyes. He cried outand somehow summoned from his lips the first word of his existence.     Why...?     He saw his mother stiffen. The child spoke!     Aye, said his father. Did you hear what he said?     I heard, said the mother quietly.     The last thing Sim saw of his living parents was his mother weakly,swayingly, slowly moving across the floor to lie beside her silenthusband. That was the last time he ever saw them move.      IV     The night came and passed and then started the second day.     The bodies of all those who had died during the night were carried in afuneral procession to the top of a small hill. The procession was long,the bodies numerous.     Dark walked in the procession, holding the newly walking Sim by onehand. Only an hour before dawn Sim had learned to walk.     At the top of the hill, Sim saw once again the far off metal seed.Nobody ever looked at it, or spoke of it. Why? Was there some reason?Was it a mirage? Why did they not run toward it? Worship it? Try to getto it and fly away into space?     The funeral words were spoken. The bodies were placed upon the groundwhere the sun, in a few minutes, would cremate them.     The procession then turned and ran down the hill, eager to have theirfew minutes of free time running and playing and laughing in the sweetair.     Dark and Sim, chattering like birds, feeding among the rocks, exchangedwhat they knew of life. He was in his second day, she in her third.They were driven, as always, by the mercurial speed of their lives.     Another piece of his life opened wide.     Fifty young men ran down from the cliffs, holding sharp stones and rockdaggers in their thick hands. Shouting, they ran off toward distantblack, low lines of small rock cliffs.     War!     The thought stood in Sim's brain. It shocked and beat at him. These menwere running to fight, to kill, over there in those small black cliffswhere other people lived.     But why? Wasn't life short enough without fighting, killing?     From a great distance he heard the sound of conflict, and it made hisstomach cold. Why, Dark, why?     Dark didn't know. Perhaps they would understand tomorrow. Now, therewas the business of eating to sustain and support their lives. WatchingDark was like seeing a lizard forever flickering its pink tongue,forever hungry.     Pale children ran on all sides of them. One beetle-like boy scuttled upthe rocks, knocking Sim aside, to take from him a particularly lusciousred berry he had found growing under an outcrop.     The child ate hastily of the fruit before Sim could gain his feet. ThenSim hurled himself unsteadily, the two of them fell in a ridiculousjumble, rolling, until Dark pried them, squalling, apart.     Sim bled. A part of him stood off, like a god, and said, This shouldnot be. Children should not be this way. It is wrong!     Dark slapped the little intruding boy away. Get on! she cried.What's your name, bad one?     Chion! laughed the boy. Chion, Chion, Chion!     Sim glared at him with all the ferocity in his small, unskilledfeatures. He choked. This was his enemy. It was as if he'd waitedfor an enemy of person as well as scene. He had already understoodthe avalanches, the heat, the cold, the shortness of life, but thesewere things of places, of scene—mute, extravagant manifestations ofunthinking nature, not motivated save by gravity and radiation. Here,now, in this stridulent Chion he recognized a thinking enemy!     Chion darted off, turned at a distance, tauntingly crying:     Tomorrow I will be big enough to kill you!     And he vanished around a rock.     More children ran, giggling, by Sim. Which of them would be friends,enemies? How could friends and enemies come about in this impossible,quick life time? There was no time to make either, was there?     Dark, as if knowing his thoughts, drew him away. As they searched fordesired foods, she whispered fiercely in his ear. Enemies are madeover things like stolen foods; gifts of long grasses make friends.Enemies come, too, from opinions and thoughts. In five seconds you'vemade an enemy for life. Life's so short enemies must be made quickly.And she laughed with an irony strange for one so young, who was growingolder before her rightful time. You must fight to protect yourself.Others, superstitious ones, will try killing you. There is a belief, aridiculous belief, that if one kills another, the murderer partakes ofthe life energy of the slain, and therefore will live an extra day. Yousee? As long as that is believed, you're in danger.     But Sim was not listening. Bursting from a flock of delicate girls whotomorrow would be tall, quieter, and who day after that would gainbreasts and the next day take husbands, Sim caught sight of one smallgirl whose hair was a violet blue flame.     She ran past, brushed Sim, their bodies touched. Her eyes, white assilver coins, shone at him. He knew then that he'd found a friend, alove, a wife, one who'd a week from now lie with him atop the funeralpyre as sunlight undressed their flesh from bone.     Only the glance, but it held them in mid-motion, one instant.     Your name? he shouted after her.     Lyte! she called laughingly back.     I'm Sim, he answered, confused and bewildered.     Sim! she repeated it, flashing on. I'll remember!     Dark nudged his ribs. Here,      eat     , she said to the distracted boy.Eat or you'll never get big enough to catch her.     From nowhere, Chion appeared, running by. Lyte! he mocked, dancingmalevolently along and away. Lyte! I'll remember Lyte, too!     Dark stood tall and reed slender, shaking her dark ebony clouds ofhair, sadly. I see your life before you, little Sim. You'll needweapons soon to fight for this Lyte one. Now, hurry—the sun's coming!     They ran back to the caves.  <doc-sep>There it is, announced Thig, dropping the limp body of the capturedEarthman to the metal deck-plates. It is a male of the species thatmust have built the cities we saw as we landed.     He resembles Thig, announced Kam. But for the strange covering hewears he might be Thig.     Thig will be this creature! announced Torp. With a psychic relay wewill transfer the Earthman's memories and meager store of knowledge tothe brain of Thig! He can then go out and scout this world withoutarousing suspicion. While he is gone, I will take Kam and explore thetwo inner planets.     You are the commander, said Thig. But I wish this beast did not wearthese clumsy sheathing upon his body. On Ortha we do not hamper the useof our limbs so.     Do not question the word of your commander, growled Torp, swellingout his thick chest menacingly. It is for the good of our people thatyou disguise yourself as an Earthman.     For the good of the Horde, Thig intoned almost piously as he liftedTerry's body and headed for the laboratory.     Service for the Horde was all that the men of Ortha knew. Carefullycultured and brought to life in the laboratories of their Horde, theyknew neither father nor mother. Affection and love were entirelylacking in their early training and later life. They were trainedantlike from childhood that only the growth and power of the Hordewere of any moment. Men and women alike toiled and died like unfeelingrobots of flesh and bone for the Horde. The Horde was their religion,their love-life, their everything!     So it was that the bodies of the Earthman and the Orthan were strappedon two parallel tables of chill metal and the twin helmets, linked toone another by the intricacies of the psychic relay, put upon theirheads.     For ten hours or more the droning hum of the relay sucked Terry's braindry of knowledge. The shock upon the nervous system of the Earthmanproved too violent and his heart faltered after a time and stoppedcompletely. Twice, with subtle drugs they restored pseudo-life to hisbody and kept the electrical impulses throbbing from his torturedbrain, but after the third suspension of life Thig removed his helmet.     There is nothing more to learn, he informed his impassive comrades.Now, let us get on with the plastic surgery that is required. My newbody must return to its barbaric household before undue attention isaroused. And when I return I will take along some of the gleamingbaubles we found on the red planet—these people value them highly.     An hour later, his scars and altered cartilage already healed andpainless, Thig again scraped sand over the entrance to the space shipand set out along the moonlit beach toward the nearest path runninginland to his home.     Memory was laying the country bare about him, Terry's own childhoodmemories of this particular section of Long Island. Here was the placewhere Jake and Ted had helped him dig for the buried treasure thatold 'Notch-ear' Beggs had told them so exactly about. Remembrance ofthat episode gave Thig an idea about the little lump of jewels in hispocket. He had found them in a chest along the beach!     He was coming up on the porch now and at the sound of his foot onthe sagging boards the screen door burst open and three littleEarth-creatures were hugging at his legs. An odd sensation, that hisacquired memories labeled as pleasure, sent a warm glow upward fromaround his heart.     Then he saw the slender red-haired shape of a woman, the mate of thedead man he knew, and confusion struck his well-trained brain. Menhad no mates on Ortha, sex had been overthrown with all the otherprimitive impulses of barbarism; so he was incapable of understandingthe emotions that swept through his acquired memory.     Unsteadily he took her in his arms and felt her warm lips pressed,trembling, against his own. That same hot wave of pulsing blood chokedachingly up into his throat.     Lew, dear, Ellen was asking, where have you been all day? I calledup at the landing but you were not there. I wanted to let you know thatSaddlebag Publications sent a check for $50 for Reversed Revolversand three other editors asked for shorts soon.  <doc-sep>What do you      do     ? Steffens asked.     Elb replied quickly, with characteristic simplicity: We can do verylittle. A certain amount of physical knowledge was imparted to us atbirth by the Makers. We spend the main part of our time expanding thatknowledge wherever possible. We have made some progress in the naturalsciences, and some in mathematics. Our purpose in being, you see, isto serve the Makers. Any ability we can acquire will make us that muchmore fit to serve when the Makers return.     When they return? It had not occurred to Steffens until now that therobots expected the Makers to do so.     Elb regarded him out of the band of the circling eye. I see you hadsurmised that the Makers were not coming back.     If the robot could have laughed, Steffens thought it would have, then.But it just stood there, motionless, its tone politely emphatic.     It has always been our belief that the Makers would return. Why elsewould we have been built?     Steffens thought the robot would go on, but it didn't. The question, toElb, was no question at all.     Although Steffens knew already what the robot could not possibly haveknown—that the Makers were gone and would never come back—he was along time understanding. What he did was push this speculation into theback of his mind, to keep it from Elb. He had no desire to destroy afaith.     But it created a problem in him. He had begun to picture for Elb thestructure of human society, and the robot—a machine which did not eator sleep—listened gravely and tried to understand. One day Steffensmentioned God.     God? the robot repeated without comprehension. What is God?     Steffens explained briefly, and the robot answered:     It is a matter which has troubled us. We thought at first that youwere the Makers returning— Steffens remembered the brief lapse, theseeming disappointment he had sensed—but then we probed your mindsand found that you were not, that you were another kind of being,unlike either the Makers or ourselves. You were not even— Elb caughthimself—you did not happen to be telepaths. Therefore we troubledover who made you. We did detect the word 'Maker' in your theology,but it seemed to have a peculiar— Elb paused for a long while—anuntouchable, intangible meaning which varies among you.     Steffens understood. He nodded.     The Makers were the robots' God, were all the God they needed. TheMakers had built them, the planet, the universe. If he were to ask themwho made the Makers, it would be like their asking him who made God.     It was an ironic parallel, and he smiled to himself.     But on that planet, it was the last time he smiled.  <doc-sep>Don stared at the scene below him. After his initial glance to confirmhis identification of Crandon, Don could not bear to look at him.     Crandon's voice suddenly hardened, became abrupt. You're partly rightabout us, of course. I hate to think how many laws this organizationhas broken. Don't condemn us yet, though. You'll be a member yourselfbefore the day is over.     Don was shocked by such confidence in his corruptibility.     What do you use? he asked bitterly. Drugs? Hypnosis?     Crandon sighed. I forgot how little you know, Don. I have a longstory to tell you. You'll find it hard to believe at first. But try totrust me. Try to believe me, as you once did. When I say that much ofwhat POSAT does is illegal, I do not mean immoral. We're probably themost moral organization in the world. Get over the idea that you havestumbled into a den of thieves.     Crandon paused as though searching for words with which to continue.     Did you notice the paintings in the waiting room as you entered?     Don nodded, too bewildered to speak.     They were donated by the founder of our Organization. They were partof his personal collection—which, incidentally, he bought from theartists themselves. He also designed the atomic reactor we use forpower here in the laboratory.     Then the pictures are modern, said Don, aware that his mouth washanging open foolishly. I thought one was a Titian—     It is, said Crandon. We have several original Titians, although Ireally don't know too much about them.     But how could a man alive      today     buy paintings from an artist of theRenaissance?     He is not alive today. POSAT is actually what our advertisementsclaim—an      ancient     secret society. Our founder has been dead for overfour centuries.     But you said that he designed your atomic reactor.     Yes. This particular one has been in use for only twenty years,however.     Don's confusion was complete. Crandon looked at him kindly. Let'sstart at the beginning, he said, and Don was back again in theclassroom with the deep voice of Professor Crandon unfolding thepages of knowledge in clear and logical manner. Four hundred yearsago, in the time of the Italian Renaissance, a man lived who was asuper-genius. His was the kind of incredible mentality that appears notin every generation, or even every century, but once in thousands ofyears.     Probably the man who invented what we call the phonetic alphabet wasone like him. That man lived seven thousand years ago in Mesopotamia,and his discovery was so original, so far from the natural courseof man's thinking, that not once in the intervening seven thousandyears has that device been rediscovered. It still exists only in thecivilizations to which it has been passed on directly.     The super-genius who was our founder was not a semanticist. He wasa physical scientist and mathematician. Starting with the meagerheritage that existed in these fields in his time, he began tacklingphysical puzzles one by one. Sitting in his study, using as hisprincipal tool his own great mind, he invented calculus, developed thequantum theory of light, moved on to electromagnetic radiation and whatwe call Maxwell's equations—although, of course, he antedated Maxwellby centuries—developed the special and general theories of relativity,the tool of wave mechanics, and finally, toward the end of his life, hemathematically derived the packing fraction that describes the bindingenergy of nuclei—     But it can't be done, Don objected. It's an observed phenomenon. Ithasn't been derived. Every conservative instinct that he possessedcried out against this impossible fantasy. And yet—there sat thereactor, sheathed in its strange shield. Crandon watched the directionof Don's glance.     Yes, the reactor, said Crandon. He built one like it. It confirmedhis theories. His calculations showed him something else too. He sawthe destructive potentialities of an atomic explosion. He himself couldnot have built an atomic bomb; he didn't have the facilities. But hisknowledge would have enabled other men to do so. He looked abouthim. He saw a political setup of warring principalities, rival states,intrigue, and squabbles over political power. Giving the men of histime atomic energy would have been like handing a baby a firecrackerwith a lighted fuse.     What should he have done? Let his secrets die with him? Hedidn't think so. No one else in his age could have      derived     theknowledge that he did. But it was an age of brilliant men. Leonardo.Michelangelo. There were men capable of      learning     his science, even asmen can learn it today. He gathered some of them together and foundedthis society. It served two purposes. It perpetuated his discoveriesand at the same time it maintained the greatest secrecy about them. Heurged that the secrets be kept until the time when men could use themsafely. The other purpose was to make that time come about as soon aspossible.     Crandon looked at Don's unbelieving face. How can I make you see thatit is the truth? Think of the eons that man or manlike creatures havewalked the Earth. Think what a small fraction of that time is fourhundred years. Is it so strange that atomic energy was discovered alittle early, by this displacement in time that is so tiny after all?     But by one man, Don argued.     Crandon shrugged. Compared with him, Don, you and I are stupid men.So are the scientists who slowly plodded down the same road he hadcome, stumbling first on one truth and then the succeeding one. We knowthat inventions and discoveries do not occur at random. Each is basedon the one that preceded it. We are all aware of the phenomenon ofsimultaneous invention. The path to truth is a straight one. It is onlyour own stupidity that makes it seem slow and tortuous.     He merely followed the straight path, Crandon finished simply.  <doc-sep>He could tell from their looks that the others did, but couldn't bringthemselves to put it into words.     I suppose it's the time-scale and the value-scale that are so hard forus to accept, he said softly. Much more, even, than the size-scale.The thought that there are creatures in the Universe to whom the wholecareer of Man—in fact, the whole career of life—is no more than a fewthousand or hundred thousand years. And to whom Man is no more than aminor stage property—a trifling part of a clever job of camouflage.     This time he went on, Fantasy writers have at times hinted all sortsof odd things about the Earth—that it might even be a kind of singleliving creature, or honeycombed with inhabited caverns, and so on.But I don't know that any of them have ever suggested that the Earth,together with all the planets and moons of the Solar System, mightbe....     In a whisper, Frieda finished for him, ... a camouflaged fleet ofgigantic spherical spaceships.           Your guess happens to be the precise truth.          At that familiar, yet dreadly unfamiliar voice, all four of them swungtoward the inner door. Dotty was standing there, a sleep-stupefiedlittle girl with a blanket caught up around her and dragging behind.Their own daughter. But in her eyes was a look from which they cringed.     She said, I am a creature somewhat older than what your geologistscall the Archeozoic Era. I am speaking to you through a number oftelepathically sensitive individuals among your kind. In each case mythoughts suit themselves to your level of comprehension. I inhabit thedisguised and jetless spaceship which is your Earth.     Celeste swayed a step forward. Baby.... she implored.     Dotty went on, without giving her a glance, It is true that we plantedthe seeds of life on some of these planets simply as part of ourcamouflage, just as we gave them a suitable environment for each. Andit is true that now we must let most of that life be destroyed. Ourhiding place has been discovered, our pursuers are upon us, and we mustmake one last effort to escape or do battle, since we firmly believethat the principle of mental privacy to which we have devoted ourexistence is perhaps the greatest good in the whole Universe.     But it is not true that we look with contempt upon you. Our whole raceis deeply devoted to life, wherever it may come into being, and it isour rule never to interfere with its development. That was one ofthe reasons we made life a part of our camouflage—it would make ourpursuers reluctant to examine these planets too closely.     Yes, we have always cherished you and watched your evolution withinterest from our hidden lairs. We may even unconsciously have shapedyour development in certain ways, trying constantly to educate you awayfrom war and finally succeeding—which may have given the betrayingclue to our pursuers.     Your planets must be burst asunder—this particular planet in thearea of the Pacific—so that we may have our last chance to escape.Even if we did not move, our pursuers would destroy you with us. Wecannot invite you inside our ships—not for lack of space, but becauseyou could never survive the vast accelerations to which you would besubjected. You would, you see, need very special accommodations, ofwhich we have enough only for a few.     Those few we will take with us, as the seed from which a new humanrace may—if we ourselves somehow survive—be born.  <doc-sep>III     Oh, yes, and Jamieson had a feeble paper on what he calledindividualization in marine worms. Barr, have you ever thought muchabout the larger aspects of the problem of individuality?     Jack jumped slightly. He had let his thoughts wander very far.     Not especially, sir, he mumbled.     The house was still. A few minutes after the professor's arrival,Mrs. Kesserich had gone off with an anxious glance at Jack. He knewwhy and wished he could reassure her that he would not mention theirconversation to the professor.     Kesserich had spent perhaps a half hour briefing him on the moreimportant papers delivered at the conferences. Then, almost as ifit were a teacher's trick to show up a pupil's inattention, he hadsuddenly posed this question about individuality.     You know what I mean, of course, Kesserich pressed. The factors thatmake you you, and me me.     Heredity and environment, Jack parroted like a freshman.     Kesserich nodded. Suppose—this is just speculation—that we couldcontrol heredity and environment. Then we could re-create the sameindividual at will.     Jack felt a shiver go through him. To get exactly the same pattern ofhereditary traits. That'd be far beyond us.     What about identical twins? Kesserich pointed out. And then there'sparthenogenesis to be considered. One might produce a duplicate of themother without the intervention of the male. Although his voice hadgrown more idly speculative, Kesserich seemed to Jack to be smilingsecretly. There are many examples in the lower animal forms, to saynothing of the technique by which Loeb caused a sea urchin to reproducewith no more stimulus than a salt solution.     Jack felt the hair rising on his neck. Even then you wouldn't getexactly the same pattern of hereditary traits.     Not if the parent were of very pure stock? Not if there were somespecial technique for selecting ova that would reproduce all themother's traits?     But environment would change things, Jack objected. The duplicatewould be bound to develop differently.     Is environment so important? Newman tells about a pair of identicaltwins separated from birth, unaware of each other's existence. They metby accident when they were twenty-one. Each was a telephone repairman.Each had a wife the same age. Each had a baby son. And each had a foxterrier called 'Trixie.' That's without trying to make environmentssimilar. But suppose you did try. Suppose you saw to it that each ofthem had exactly the same experiences at the same times....     For a moment it seemed to Jack that the room was dimming and wavering,becoming a dark pool in which the only motionless thing was Kesserich'ssphinx-like face.     Well, we've escaped quite far enough from Jamieson's marine worms,the biologist said, all brisk again. He said it as if Jack were theone who had led the conversation down wild and unprofitable channels.Let's get on to your project. I want to talk it over now, because Iwon't have any time for it tomorrow.     Jack looked at him blankly.     Tomorrow I must attend to a very important matter, the biologistexplained.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How does Sim acquire his knowledge and perceive his environment in THE CREATURES THAT TIME FORGOT?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in HOME IS WHERE YOU LEFT IT? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>  Mr. Dawes  came home anhour later, looking tired.Mom pecked him lightly onthe forehead. He glanced atthe evening paper, and thenspoke to Sol.     Hear you been askingquestions, Mr. Becker.     Sol nodded, embarrassed.Guess I have. I'm awfullycurious about this Armagonplace. Never heard of anythinglike it before.     Dawes grunted. You ain'ta reporter?     Oh, no. I'm an engineer. Iwas just satisfying my owncuriosity.     Uh-huh. Dawes lookedreflective. You wouldn't bethinkin' about writing us upor anything. I mean, this is apretty private affair.     Writing it up? Solblinked. I hadn't thought ofit. But you'll have to admit—it'ssure interesting.     Yeah, Dawes said narrowly.I guess it would be.     Supper! Mom called.     After the meal, they spenta quiet evening at home. Sallywent to bed, screaming herreluctance, at eight-thirty.Mom, dozing in the big chairnear the fireplace, padded upstairsat nine. Then Dawesyawned widely, stood up, andsaid goodnight at quarter-of-ten.     He paused in the doorwaybefore leaving.     I'd think about that, hesaid. Writing it up, I mean.A lot of folks would thinkyou were just plum crazy.     Sol laughed feebly. Iguess they would at that.     Goodnight, Dawes said.     Goodnight.     He read Sally's copy of      Treasure Island     for abouthalf an hour. Then he undressed,made himself comfortableon the sofa, snuggledunder the soft blanketthat Mom had provided, andshut his eyes.     He reviewed the events ofthe day before dropping offto sleep. The troublesomeSally. The strange dreamworld of Armagon. The visitto the barber shop. The removalof Brundage's body.The conversations with thetownspeople. Dawes' suspiciousattitude ...     Then sleep came. <doc-sep>Untrimmed sumacs threw late-afternoon shadows on the discolored stuccofacade of the Elsby Public Library. Inside, Tremaine followed apaper-dry woman of indeterminate age to a rack of yellowed newsprint.     You'll find back to nineteen-forty here, the librarian said. Theolder are there in the shelves.     I want nineteen-oh-one, if they go back that far.     The woman darted a suspicious look at Tremaine. You have to handlethese old papers carefully.     I'll be extremely careful. The woman sniffed, opened a drawer, leafedthrough it, muttering.     What date was it you wanted?     Nineteen-oh-one; the week of May nineteenth.     The librarian pulled out a folded paper, placed it on the table,adjusted her glasses, squinted at the front page. That's it, shesaid. These papers keep pretty well, provided they're stored in thedark. But they're still flimsy, mind you.     I'll remember. The woman stood by as Tremaine looked over the frontpage. The lead article concerned the opening of the Pan-AmericanExposition at Buffalo. Vice-President Roosevelt had made a speech.Tremaine leafed over, reading slowly.     On page four, under a column headed      County Notes     he saw the name Bram:     Mr. Bram has purchased a quarter section of fine grazing land,north of town, together with a sturdy house, from J. P. Spivey ofElsby. Mr. Bram will occupy the home and will continue to graze afew head of stock. Mr. Bram, who is a newcomer to the county, hasbeen a resident of Mrs. Stoate's Guest Home in Elsby for the pastmonths.     May I see some earlier issues; from about the first of the year?     The librarian produced the papers. Tremaine turned the pages, read theheads, skimmed an article here and there. The librarian went back toher desk. An hour later, in the issue for July 7, 1900, an item caughthis eye:     A Severe Thunderstorm. Citizens of Elsby and the country were muchalarmed by a violent cloudburst, accompanied by lightning andthunder, during the night of the fifth. A fire set in the pinewoods north of Spivey's farm destroyed a considerable amount oftimber and threatened the house before burning itself out alongthe river.     The librarian was at Tremaine's side. I have to close the library now.You'll have to come back tomorrow.     Outside, the sky was sallow in the west: lights were coming on inwindows along the side streets. Tremaine turned up his collar against acold wind that had risen, started along the street toward the hotel.     A block away a black late-model sedan rounded a corner with a faintsqueal of tires and gunned past him, a heavy antenna mounted forwardof the left rear tail fin whipping in the slipstream. Tremaine stoppedshort, stared after the car.     Damn! he said aloud. An elderly man veered, eyeing him sharply.Tremaine set off at a run, covered the two blocks to the hotel, yankedopen the door to his car, slid into the seat, made a U-turn, and headednorth after the police car.  <doc-sep>The first contact Man had ever had with an intelligent alien raceoccurred out on the perimeter in a small quiet place a long way fromhome. Late in the year 2360—the exact date remains unknown—an alienforce attacked and destroyed the colony at Lupus V. The wreckage andthe dead were found by a mailship which flashed off screaming for thearmy.     When the army came it found this: Of the seventy registered colonists,thirty-one were dead. The rest, including some women and children,were missing. All technical equipment, all radios, guns, machines,even books, were also missing. The buildings had been burned, so werethe bodies. Apparently the aliens had a heat ray. What else they had,nobody knew. After a few days of walking around in the ash, one soldierfinally stumbled on something.     For security reasons, there was a detonator in one of the mainbuildings. In case of enemy attack, Security had provided a bomb to beburied in the center of each colony, because it was important to blowa whole village to hell and gone rather than let a hostile alien learnvital facts about human technology and body chemistry. There was a bombat Lupus V too, and though it had been detonated it had not blown. Thedetonating wire had been cut.     In the heart of the camp, hidden from view under twelve inches ofearth, the wire had been dug up and cut.     The army could not understand it and had no time to try. After fivehundred years of peace and anti-war conditioning the army was small,weak and without respect. Therefore, the army did nothing but spreadthe news, and Man began to fall back.     In a thickening, hastening stream he came back from the hard-wonstars, blowing up his homes behind him, stunned and cursing. Most ofthe colonists got out in time. A few, the farthest and loneliest, diedin fire before the army ships could reach them. And the men in thoseships, drinkers and gamblers and veterans of nothing, the dregs of asociety which had grown beyond them, were for a long while the onlydefense Earth had.     This was the message Captain Dylan had brought, come out from Earthwith a bottle on his hip.  <doc-sep>That was the sweetest shot Hathaway ever took. Marnagan and themonsters!     Only now it was only Marnagan.     No more monsters.     Marnagan smiled a smile broader than his shoulders. Hey, Click, lookat me! I'm in one piece. Why, hell, the damned things turned tail andran away!     Ran, hell! cried Hathaway, rushing out, his face flushed andanimated. They just plain vanished. They were only imaginativefigments!     And to think we let them hole us in that way, Click Hathaway, youcoward!     Smile when you say that, Irish.     Sure, and ain't I always smilin'? Ah, Click boy, are them tears inyour sweet grey eyes?     Damn, swore the photographer, embarrassedly. Why don't they putwindow-wipers in these helmets?     I'll take it up with the Board, lad.     Forget it. I was so blamed glad to see your homely carcass in onehunk, I couldn't help—Look, now, about Gunther. Those animals are partof his set-up. Explorers who land here inadvertently, are chased backinto their ships, forced to take off. Tourists and the like. Nothingsuspicious about animals. And if the tourists don't leave, the animalskill them.     Shaw, now. Those animals can't kill.     Think not, Mr. Marnagan? As long as we believed in them they couldhave frightened us to death, forced us, maybe, to commit suicide. Ifthat isn't being dangerous—     The Irishman whistled.     But, we've got to      move     , Irish. We've got twenty minutes of oxygen.In that time we've got to trace those monsters to their source,Gunther's Base, fight our way in, and get fresh oxy-cannisters. Clickattached his camera to his mid-belt. Gunther probably thinks we'redead by now. Everyone else's been fooled by his playmates; they neverhad a chance to disbelieve them.     If it hadn't been for you taking them pictures, Click—     Coupled with your damned stubborn attitude about the accident— Clickstopped and felt his insides turning to water. He shook his head andfelt a film slip down over his eyes. He spread his legs out to steadyhimself, and swayed. I—I don't think my oxygen is as full as yours.This excitement had me double-breathing and I feel sick.     Marnagan's homely face grimaced in sympathy. Hold tight, Click. Theguy that invented these fish-bowls didn't provide for a sick stomach.     Hold tight, hell, let's move. We've got to find where those animalscame from! And the only way to do that is to get the animals to comeback!     Come back? How?     They're waiting, just outside the aura of our thoughts, and if webelieve in them again, they'll return.     Marnagan didn't like it. Won't—won't they kill us—if they come—ifwe believe in 'em?     Hathaway shook a head that was tons heavy and weary. Not if we believein them to a      certain point     . Psychologically they can both be seen andfelt. We only want to      see     them coming at us again.           Do     we, now?     With twenty minutes left, maybe less—     All right, Click, let's bring 'em back. How do we do it?     Hathaway fought against the mist in his eyes. Just think—I will seethe monsters again. I will see them again and I will not feel them.Think it over and over.     Marnagan's hulk stirred uneasily. And—what if I forget to rememberall that? What if I get excited...?     Hathaway didn't answer. But his eyes told the story by just looking atIrish.     Marnagan cursed. All right, lad. Let's have at it!     The monsters returned.  <doc-sep>The mild shocks went on—whether from projectiles or energy-charges,would be hard to find out and it didn't matter; whatever was hittingthe      Quest III's     shell was doing it at velocities where thedistinction between matter and radiation practically ceases to exist.     But that shell was tough. It was an extension of the gravitic drivefield which transmitted the engines' power equally to every atom ofthe ship; forces impinging on the outside of the field were similarlytransmitted and rendered harmless. The effect was as if the vessel andall space inside its field were a single perfectly elastic body. Ameteoroid, for example, on striking it rebounded—usually vaporized bythe impact—and the ship, in obedience to the law of equal and oppositeforces, rebounded too, but since its mass was so much greater, itsdeflection was negligible.     The people in the      Quest III     would have felt nothing at all ofthe vicious onslaught being hurled against them, save that theirinertialess drive, at its normal thrust of two hundred gravities,was intentionally operated at one half of one per cent efficiency toprovide the illusion of Earthly gravitation.     One of the officers said shakily, It's as if they've been lying inwait for us. But why on Earth—     That, said the captain grimly, is what we have to find out. Why—onEarth. At least, I suspect the answer's there.     The      Quest III     bored steadily on through space, decelerating. Even ifone were no fatalist, there seemed no reason to stop decelerating orchange course. There was nowhere else to go and too little fuel leftif there had been; come what might, this was journey's end—perhapsin a more violent and final way than had been anticipated. All aroundwheeled the pigmy enemies, circling, maneuvering, and attacking,always attacking, with the senseless fury of maddened hornets. Theinterstellar ship bore no offensive weapons—but suddenly on one of thevision screens a speck of light flared into nova-brilliance, dazzlingthe watchers for the brief moment in which its very atoms were tornapart.     Knof Jr. whooped ecstatically and then subsided warily, but no one waspaying attention to him. The men on the      Quest III's     bridge lookedquestions at each other, as the thought of help from outside flashedinto many minds at once. But Captain Llud said soberly, It must havecaught one of their own shots, reflected. Maybe its own, if it scoredtoo direct a hit.     He studied the data so far gathered. A few blurred pictures had beengot, which showed cylindrical space ships much like the      Quest III     ,except that they were rocket-propelled and of far lesser size. Theirsize was hard to ascertain, because you needed to know their distanceand speed—but detector-beam echoes gave the distance, and likewise, bythe Doppler method, the velocity of directly receding or approachingships. It was apparent that the enemy vessels were even smaller thanGwar Den had at first supposed—not large enough to hold even one man.Tiny, deadly hornets with a colossal sting.     Robot craft, no doubt, said Knof Llud, but a chill ran down his spineas it occurred to him that perhaps the attackers weren't of humanorigin. They had seen no recognizable life in the part of the galaxythey had explored, but one of the other      Quests     might have encounteredand been traced home by some unhuman race that was greedy and able toconquer.  <doc-sep>Zotul, anxious to possess the treasures promised by the Earthman,won over his brothers. They signed with marks and gave up a quarterinterest in the Pottery of Masur. They rolled in the luxuries of Earth.These, who had never known debt before, were in it up to their ears.     The retooled plant forged ahead and profits began to look up, but theEarthmen took a fourth of them as their share in the industry.     For a year, the brothers drove their shiny new cars about on thenew concrete highways the Earthmen had built. From pumps owned by aterrestrial company, they bought gas and oil that had been drawn fromthe crust of Zur and was sold to the Zurians at a magnificent profit.The food they ate was cooked in Earthly pots on Earth-type gas ranges,served up on metal plates that had been stamped out on Earth. In thewinter, they toasted their shins before handsome gas grates, thoughthey had gas-fired central heating.     About this time, the ships from Earth brought steam-powered electricgenerators. Lines went up, power was generated, and a flood ofelectrical gadgets and appliances hit the market. For some reason,batteries for the radios were no longer available and everybody had tobuy the new radios. And who could do without a radio in this modern age?     The homes of the brothers Masur blossomed on the Easy Payment Plan.They had refrigerators, washers, driers, toasters, grills, electricfans, air-conditioning equipment and everything else Earth couldpossibly sell them.     We will be forty years paying it all off, exulted Zotul, butmeantime we have the things and aren't they worth it?     But at the end of three years, the Earthmen dropped their option.The Pottery of Masur had no more contracts. Business languished. TheEarthmen, explained Broderick, had built a plant of their own becauseit was so much more efficient—and to lower prices, which was Earth'sunswerving policy, greater and greater efficiency was demanded.Broderick was very sympathetic, but there was nothing he could do.     The introduction of television provided a further calamity. The setswere delicate and needed frequent repairs, hence were costly to own andmaintain. But all Zurians who had to keep up with the latest from Earthhad them. Now it was possible not only to hear about things of Earth,but to see them as they were broadcast from the video tapes.     The printing plants that turned out mortgage contracts did a lushbusiness.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in HOME IS WHERE YOU LEFT IT?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the story about and how does it involve Tobias Whiting? [SEP] <s>The first night, they camped in the lee of low sandhills. The secondnight they found a small spring with brackish but drinkable water. Onthe third day, having covered half the distance to the Kumajisettlement, they began to encounter Kumaji patrols, on foot or      thlotback     , the six-legged desert animals running so swiftly over thesands and so low to the ground that they almost seemed to be gliding.Steve and Mary hardly spoke. Talk was unnecessary. But slowly a bondgrew between them. Steve liked this slim silent girl who had come outhere with him risking her life although she must have known deep in herheart that her father had almost certainly decided to turn traitor inorder to regain his fortune.     On the fourth day, they spotted the unicopter from a long way off andmade their way toward it. It had come much further than Steve hadexpected. With sinking heart he realized that Tobias Whiting, if heescaped the crash-landing without injury, must surely have reached theKumaji encampment by now.     It doesn't seem badly damaged, Mary said.     The platform had buckled slightly, the 'copter was tilted over, one ofthe rotors twisted, its end buried in sand. Tobias Whiting wasn't there.     No, Steve said. It's hardly damaged at all. Your father got out of itall right.     To go—to them?     I think so, Mary. I don't want to pass judgment until we're sure. I'msorry.     Oh, Steve! Steve! What will we do? What      can     we do?     Find him, if it isn't too late. Come on.     North?     North.     And if by some miracle we find him?     Steve said nothing. The answer—capture or death—was obvious. But youcouldn't tell that to a traitor's daughter, could you?     As it turned out, they did not find Tobias Whiting through their ownefforts. Half an hour after setting out from the unicopter, they werespotted by a roving band of Kumajis, who came streaking toward them ontheir      thlots     . Mary raised her atorifle, but Steve struck the barrelaside. They'd kill us, he said. We can only surrender.     They were hobbled and led painfully across the sand. They were takenthat way to a small Kumaji encampment, and thrust within a circulartent.     Tobias Whiting was in there.  <doc-sep>They fell together on the sand, the guard still struggling. Stevecouldn't release his throat to grab the pike. The guard stabbed outawkwardly, blindly with it, kicking up sand. Then Tobias Whiting moaned,but Steve hardly heard him.     When the guard's legs stopped drumming, Steve released him. The man waseither dead or so close to death that he would be out for hours. Stevehad never killed a man before, had never in violence and with intent tokill attacked a man....     Steve!     It was Mary, calling his name and crying.     It's Dad. Dad was—hit. The pike, a wild stab. He's hit bad—     Steve crawled over to them. It was very dark. He could barely make outTobias Whiting's pain-contorted face.     My stomach, Whiting said, gasping for breath. The pain....     Steve probed with his hands, found the wound. Blood was rushing out. Hecouldn't stop it and he knew it and he thought Whiting knew it too. Hetouched Mary's hand, and held it. Mary sobbed against him, cryingsoftly.     You two ... Whiting gasped. You two ... Mary, Mary girl. Is—he—whatyou want?     Yes, Dad. Oh, yes!     You can get her out of here, Cantwell?     I think so, Steve said.     Then go. Go while you can. I'll tell them—due south. The Earthmen areheading due south. They'll go—south. They won't find the caravan.You'll—all—get away. If it's—what you want, Mary.     She leaned away from Steve, kissing her father. She asked Steve: Isn'tthere anything we can do for him?     Steve shook his head. But he's got to live long enough to tell them, todeceive them.     I'll live long enough, Whiting said, and Steve knew then that hewould. Luck to—all of you. From a—very foolish—man....  <doc-sep>Three days later, Tobias Whiting disappeared.     The caravan had been making no more than ten or fifteen miles a day.Their water supply was almost gone but on the fourth day they hoped toreach an oasis in the desert. Two of the older folks had died offatigue. A third was critically ill and there was little that could bedone for him. The food supply was running short, but they could alwaysslaughter their camels for food and make their way to Oasis City, stillfour hundred and some miles away, with nothing but the clothes on theirbacks.     And then, during the fourth night, Tobias Whiting disappeared, takingSteve's unicopter. A sentry had heard the low muffled whine of theturbojets during the night and had seen the small craft take off, buthad assumed Steve had taken it up for some reason. Each day Steve haddone so, reconnoitering for signs of the Kumaji.     But why? someone asked. Why?     At first there was no answer. Then a woman whose husband had died theday before said: It's no secret Whiting has plenty of money—with theKumaji.     None of them looked at Mary. She stood there defiantly, not sayinganything, and Steve squeezed her hand.     Now, wait a minute, one of Whiting's friends said.     Wait, nothing. This was Jeremy Gort, who twice had been mayor of thecolony. I know how Whiting's mind works. He slaved all his life forthat money, that's the way he'll see it. Cantwell, didn't you say theKumaji were looking for us, to kill us?     That's what I was told, Steve said.     All right, Gort went on relentlessly. Then this is what I figure musthave happened. Whiting got to brooding over his lost fortune and finallydecided he had to have it. So, he went off at night in Cantwell's'copter, determined to get it. Only catch is, folks, if I know theKumaji, they won't just give it to him—not by a long sight.     No? someone asked.     No sir. They'll trade. For our location. And if Whiting went off likethat without even saying good-bye to his girl here, my guess is he'llmake the trade. His voice reflected some bitterness.  <doc-sep>The caravan reached them then. The first person Steve saw was a girl.She wore the shroud-like desert garment and her face—it would be apretty face under other circumstances, Steve realized—was etched withlines of fatigue. Steve did not recognize her. Who is he, Dad? thegirl said.     Young Cantwell. Remember?     So this was Mary Whiting, Steve thought. Why, she'd been a moppet tenyears ago! How old? Ten years old maybe. The years crowded him suddenly.She was a woman now....     Steve Cantwell? Mary said. Of course I remember. Hello, Steve. I—I'msorry you had to come back at a time like this. I'm sorry about youraunt. If there's anything I can do....     Steve shook his head, then shook the hand she offered him. She was aslim, strong girl with a firm handshake. Her concern for him at a timelike this was little short of amazing, especially since it wascompletely genuine.     He appreciated it.     Tobias Whiting said: Shame of it is, Cantwell, some of us could getalong with the Kumaji. I had a pretty good business here, you knowthat. He looked with bitterness at the dusty file of refugees. But Inever got a credit out of it. Wherever we wind up, my girl and I will bepoor again. We could have been rich.     Steve asked, What happened to all your profits?     Tied up with a Kumaji moneylender, but thanks to what happened I'llnever see it again.     Mary winced, as if her father's words and his self-pity were painful toher. Then others came up and a few minutes were spent in back-poundingand hand-shaking as some of the men who had been boys with Steve came upto recognize and be recognized. Their greeting was warm, as TobiasWhiting's had been cool. Despite the knowledge of what lay behind all ofthem, and what still lay ahead, it was a little like homecoming.     But Steve liked Mary Whiting's warm, friendly smile best of all. It wascomforting and reassuring.  <doc-sep>Steve turned the little turbo-jet engine over, then on impulse ran backto the old man and gave him his canteen, turning away before it could berefused and striding quickly back to the unicopter and getting himselfairborne without looking at the deserted village or the old man again.     The old man's voice called after him: Tell the people ... hurry ...Kumaji looking for them to kill ... desert wind ought to wipe out theirtrail ... but hurry....     The voice faded into the faint rushing sound of the hot desert wind.Steve gazed down on bare sun-blasted rock, on rippled dunes, onhate-haze. He circled wider and wider, seeking his people.     Hours later he spotted the caravan in the immensity of sand andwasteland. He brought the unicopter down quickly, with a rush of air anda whine of turbojets. He alighted in the sand in front of theslow-moving column. It was like something out of Earth's MiddleEast—and Middle Ages. They had even imported camels for their life hereon the Sirian desert, deciding the Earth camel was a better beast ofburden than anything the Sirius II wastelands had to offer. They walkedbeside the great-humped beasts of burden, the animals piled high withthe swaying baggage of their belongings. They moved through the sandswith agonizing slowness. Already, after only one day's travel, Stevecould see that some of the people were spent and exhausted and had toride on camelback. They had gone perhaps fifteen miles, with almost fivehundred to go across searing desert, the Kumaji seeking them....     Hullo! Steve shouted, and a man armed with an atorifle came stridingclumsily through the sand toward him. Cantwell's the name, Steve said.I'm one of you.     Bleak hostility in his face, the man approached. Cantwell. Yeah, Iremember you. Colony wasn't good enough for young Steve Cantwell. Oh,no. Had to go off to Earth to get himself educated. What are you doinghere now on that fancy aircraft of yours, coming to crow at our wake?     The bitterness surprised Steve. He recognized the man now as TobiasWhiting, who had been the Colony's most successful man when Steve was aboy. Except for his bitterness and for the bleak self-pity and defeat inhis eyes, the years had been good to Tobias Whiting. He was probably inhis mid-forties now, twenty years Steve's senior, but he waswell-muscled, his flesh was solid, his step bold and strong. He was abig muscular man with a craggy, handsome face. In ten years he hadhardly changed at all, while Steve Cantwell, the boy, had become SteveCantwell the man. He had been the Colony's official trader with theKumajis, and had grown rich—by colony standards—at his business. Now,Steve realized, all that was behind him, and he could only flee with theothers—either back to the terribly crowded Earth or on in search of anew colony on some other outworld, if they could get the transportation.Perhaps that explained his bitterness.     So you've come back, eh? You sure picked a time, Cantwell.     The refugees were still about a quarter of a mile off, coming up slowly.They hardly seemed to be moving at all. Is my aunt all right? Stevesaid. She was the only family he remembered.     Tobias Whiting shook his head slowly. I hate to be the one to tell youthis. Brace yourself for a shock. Your aunt was one of those who diedfrom the poisoned water last night.     For a long moment, Steve said nothing. The only emotion he felt waspity—pity for the hard life his aunt had lived, and the hard death.Sadness would come later, if there was to be a time for sadness.  <doc-sep>Darkness in the Kumaji encampment.     Far off, a lone tribesman singing a chant old as the desert.     Are you asleep? Mary asked.     No, Steve said.     Dad is. Listen to the way he's breathing—like a baby. As if—as if hewasn't going to betray all our people. Oh, I hate him, I hate him!     Steve crawled to where the older man was sleeping. Tobias Whiting'svoice surprised him. I'm not asleep. I was thinking. I—     I'm going to kill you, Steve said very softly, and sprang at Whiting.He paused, though. It was a calculated pause, and Whiting cried out asSteve had hoped he would. Then his hands found the older man's throatand closed there—not to kill him but to keep him from crying out again.     Sand stirred, the tentflap lifted, and a bulky figure rushed inside.Steve got up, met him halfway, felt the jarring contact of their bodies.The pike came up dimly in the darkness, the point scraping againstSteve's ribs as the guard lunged awkwardly. Steve's fingers sought thethick-muscled neck, clamped there—squeezing.     The guard writhed. His feet drummed the sand. With one hand he stabbedout wildly with the unwieldy pike. There was a cry from Mary and theguard managed a low squawking noise. Outside, the rest of the campseemed undisturbed. There was death in Steve's strong tighteningfingers. There had to be death there. Death for the Kumaji guard—ordeath for the fleeing Earthmen, who had lost one colony and must seekanother.  <doc-sep>Mary! he cried. My God! Mary....     We came for you, Dad, she said coldly. To stop you. To ... to killyou if necessary.     Mary....     Oh, Dad, why did you do it? Why?     We couldn't start all over again, could we? You have a right to livethe sort of life I planned for you. You....     Whiting, Steve said, did you tell them yet?     No. No, I haven't. I have information to trade, sure. But I want tomake sure it's going to the right people. I want to get our....     Dad! Our money, and all those deaths?     It doesn't matter now. I—I had changed my mind, Mary. Truly. But now,now that you're a prisoner, what if I don't talk? Don't you see, they'lltorture you. They'll make you talk. And that way—we get nothing. Icouldn't stand to see them hurt you.     They can do—what they think they have to do. I'll tell them nothing.     You won't have to, Whiting said. I'll tell them when we reach thelarger settlement. They're taking us there tomorrow, they told me.     Then we've got to get out of here tonight, Steve said.     The low sun cast the shadow of their guard against the      thlot     skin wallof their tent. He was a single man, armed with a long, pike-like weapon.When darkness came, if the guard were not increased....     They were brought a pasty gruel for their supper, and ate in silence anddistaste, ate because they needed the strength. Mary said, Dad, I don'twant you to tell them anything. Dad, please. If you thought you weredoing it for me....     I've made up my mind, Tobias Whiting said.     Mary turned to Steve, in despair. Steve, she said. Steve.Do—whatever you have to do. I—I'll understand.     Steve didn't answer her. Wasn't Whiting right now? he thought. If Stevesilenced him, wouldn't the Kumaji torture them for the information?Steve could stand up to it perhaps—but he couldn't stand to see themhurt Mary. He'd talk if they did that....     Then silencing Whiting wasn't the answer. But the Kumajis had onewilling prisoner and two unwilling ones. They knew that. If the willingone yelled for help but the yelling was kept to a minimum so only oneguard, the man outside, came....  <doc-sep>Des Moines, Iowa     June 19     Dear Joe:     Your letter was imponderable till I had thrashed through long passagesin my information catalog that I had never imagined I would need.Biological functions and bodily processes which are labeled hererevolting are used freely in your missive. You can be sure they areall being forwarded to Blgftury. If I were not involved in the mostimportant part of my journey—completion of the weapon against thenot-worlders—I would come to New York immediately. You would rue thatday, I assure you.     Glmpauszn  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the story about and how does it involve Tobias Whiting?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the backdrop of the story HOME IS WHERE YOU LEFT IT? [SEP] <s>  THE GIANTS RETURN     By ROBERT ABERNATHY     Earth set itself grimly to meet them with     corrosive fire, determined to blast them     back to the stars. But they erred in thinking     the Old Ones were too big to be clever.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      In the last hours the star ahead had grown brighter by many magnitudes,and had changed its color from a dazzling blue through white to thenormal yellow, of a GO sun. That was the Doppler effect as the star'sradial velocity changed relative to the      Quest III     , as for forty hoursthe ship had decelerated.     They had seen many such stars come near out of the galaxy's glitteringbackdrop, and had seen them dwindle, turn red and go out as the      QuestIII     drove on its way once more, lashed by despair toward the speed oflight, leaving behind the mockery of yet another solitary and lifelessluminary unaccompanied by worlds where men might dwell. They had grownsated with the sight of wonders—of multiple systems of giant stars, ofnebulae that sprawled in empty flame across light years.     But now unwonted excitement possessed the hundred-odd members of the      Quest III's     crew. It was a subdued excitement; men and women, theycame and stood quietly gazing into the big vision screens that showedthe oncoming star, and there were wide-eyed children who had been bornin the ship and had never seen a planet. The grownups talked in lowvoices, in tones of mingled eagerness and apprehension, of what mightlie at the long journey's end. For the      Quest III     was coming home; thesun ahead was      the     Sun, whose rays had warmed their lives' beginning.  <doc-sep>   The Sense of Wonder     By MILTON LESSER     Illustrated by HARRY ROSENBAUM     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      When nobody aboard ship remembers where it's     going, how can they tell when it has arrived?      Every day for a week now, Rikud had come to the viewport to watchthe great changeless sweep of space. He could not quite explain thefeelings within him; they were so alien, so unnatural. But ever sincethe engines somewhere in the rear of the world had changed their tone,from the steady whining Rikud had heard all twenty-five years of hislife, to the sullen roar that came to his ears now, the feelings hadgrown.     If anyone else had noticed the change, he failed to mention it. Thisdisturbed Rikud, although he could not tell why. And, because he hadrealized this odd difference in himself, he kept it locked up insidehim.     Today, space looked somehow different. The stars—it was a meaninglessconcept to Rikud, but that was what everyone called the brightpinpoints of light on the black backdrop in the viewport—were notapparent in the speckled profusion Rikud had always known. Instead,there was more of the blackness, and one very bright star set apartby itself in the middle of the viewport.     If he had understood the term, Rikud would have told himself this wasodd. His head ached with the half-born thought. It was—it was—whatwas it?     Someone was clomping up the companionway behind Rikud. He turned andgreeted gray-haired old Chuls.     In five more years, the older man chided, you'll be ready to sirechildren. And all you can do in the meantime is gaze out at the stars.     Rikud knew he should be exercising now, or bathing in the rays of thehealth-lamps. It had never occurred to him that he didn't feel like it;he just didn't, without comprehending.     Chuls' reminder fostered uneasiness. Often Rikud had dreamed of thetime he would be thirty and a father. Whom would the Calculator selectas his mate? The first time this idea had occurred to him, Rikudignored it. But it came again, and each time it left him with a feelinghe could not explain. Why should he think thoughts that no other manhad? Why should he think he was thinking such thoughts, when it alwaysembroiled him in a hopeless, infinite confusion that left him with aheadache?     Chuls said, It is time for my bath in the health-rays. I saw you hereand knew it was your time, too....     His voice trailed off. Rikud knew that something which he could notexplain had entered the elder man's head for a moment, but it haddeparted almost before Chuls knew of its existence.     I'll go with you, Rikud told him.  <doc-sep>Bob Parker came to, the emptiness of remote starlight in his face. Heopened his eyes. He was slowly revolving on an axis. Sometimes the Sunswept across his line of vision. A cold hammering began at the base ofhis skull, a sensation similar to that of being buried alive. There wasno asteroid, no girl, no Queazy. He was alone in the vastness of space.Alone in a space-suit.     Queazy! he whispered. Queazy! I'm running out of air!     There was no answer from Queazy. With sick eyes, Bob studied theoxygen indicator. There was only five pounds pressure. Five pounds!That meant he had been floating around out here—how long? Days atleast—maybe weeks! It was evident that somebody had given him a doseof spastic rays, enough to screw up every muscle in his body to thesnapping point, putting him in such a condition of suspended animationthat his oxygen needs were small. He closed his eyes, trying to fightagainst panic. He was glad he couldn't see any part of his body. He wasprobably scrawny. And he was hungry!     I'll starve, he thought. Or suffocate to death first!     He couldn't keep himself from taking in great gulps of air. Minutes,then hours passed. He was breathing abnormally, and there wasn't enoughair in the first place. He pleaded continually for Queazy, hopingthat somehow Queazy could help, when probably Queazy was in the samecondition. He ripped out wild curses directed at the Saylor brothers.Murderers, both of them! Up until this time, he had merely thought ofthem as business rivals. If he ever got out of this—     He groaned. He never would get out of it! After another hour, he wasgasping weakly, and yellow spots danced in his eyes. He called Queazy'sname once more, knowing that was the last time he would have strengthto call it.     And this time the headset spoke back!     Bob Parker made a gurgling sound. A voice came again, washed withstatic, far away, burbling, but excited. Bob made a rattling sound inhis throat. Then his eyes started to close, but he imagined that he sawa ship, shiny and small, driving toward him, growing in size againstthe backdrop of the Milky Way. He relapsed, a terrific buzzing in hisears.     He did not lose consciousness. He heard voices, Queazy's and thegirl's, whoever she was. Somebody grabbed hold of his foot. Hisaquarium was unbuckled and good air washed over his streaming face.The sudden rush of oxygen to his brain dizzied him. Then he was lyingon a bunk, and gradually the world beyond his sick body focussed in hisclearing eyes and he knew he was alive—and going to stay that way, forawhile anyway.     Thanks, Queazy, he said huskily.     Queazy was bending over him, his anxiety clearing away from hissuddenly brightening face.     Don't thank me, he whispered. We'd have both been goners if ithadn't been for her. The Saylor brothers left her paralyzed likeus, and when she woke up she was on a slow orbit around her ship.She unstrapped her holster and threw it away from her and it gaveher enough reaction to reach the ship. She got inside and used thedirection-finder on the telaudio and located me first. The Saylorsscattered us far and wide. Queazy's broad, normally good-humored facetwisted blackly. The so and so's didn't care if we lived or died.     Bob saw the girl now, standing a little behind Queazy, looking down athim curiously, but unhappily. Her space-suit was off. She was wearinglightly striped blue slacks and blue silk blouse and she had a paperflower in her hair. Something in Bob's stomach caved in as his eyeswidened on her.     The girl said glumly, I guess you men won't much care for me when youfind out who I am and what I've done. I'm Starre Lowenthal—Andrew S.Burnside's granddaughter!  <doc-sep>The first thing about the derelict that struck us as we drew near washer size. No ship ever built in the Foundation Yards had ever attainedsuch gargantuan proportions. She must have stretched a full thousandfeet from bow to stern, a sleek torpedo shape of somehow unspeakablealienness. Against the backdrop of the Milky Way, she gleamed fitfullyin the light of the faraway sun, the metal of her flanks grained withsomething like tiny, glittering whorls. It was as though the stuffwere somehow unstable ... seeking balance ... maybe even alive in somestrange and alien way.     It was readily apparent to all of us that she had never been built forinter-planetary flight. She was a starship. Origin unknown. An aura ofmystery surrounded her like a shroud, protecting the world that gaveher birth mutely but effectively. The distance she must have come wasunthinkable. And the time it had taken...? Aeons. Millennia. For shewas drifting, dead in space, slowly spinning end over end as she swungabout Sol in a hyperbolic orbit that would soon take her out and awayagain into the inter-stellar deeps.     Something had wounded her ... perhaps ten million years ago ... perhapsyesterday. She was gashed deeply from stem to stern with a jagged ripthat bared her mangled innards. A wandering asteroid? A meteor? Wewould never know. It gave me an uncomfortable feeling of things beyondthe ken of men as I looked at her through the port. I would never knowwhat killed her, or where she was going, or whence she came. Yet shewas mine. It made me feel like an upstart. And it made me afraid ...but of what?     We should have reported her to the nearest EMV base, but that wouldhave meant that we'd lose her. Scientists would be sent out. Men betterequipped than we to investigate the first extrasolar artifact found bymen. But I didn't report her. She was ours. She was money in the bank.Let the scientists take over after we'd put a prize crew aboard andbrought her into Callisto for salvage.... That's the way I had thingsfigured.     The Maid hove to about a hundred yards from her and hung there, dwarfedby the mighty glistening ship. I called for volunteers and we prepareda boarding party. I was thinking that her drives alone would be worthmillions. Cohn took charge and he and three of the men suited up andcrossed to her.     In an hour they were back, disappointment largely written on theirfaces.     There's nothing left of her, Captain, Cohn reported, Whatever hither tore up the innards so badly we couldn't even find the drives.She's a mess inside. Nothing left but the hull and a few storagecompartments that are still unbroken.     She was never built to carry humanoids he told us, and there wasnothing that could give us a hint of where she had come from. The hullalone was left.     He dropped two chunks of metal on my desk. I brought back some samplesof her pressure hull, he said, The whole thing is made of thisstuff....     We'll still take her in, I said, hiding my disappointment. Thecarcass will be worth money in Callisto. Have Mister Marvin andZaleski assemble a spare pulse-jet. We'll jury-rig her and bring herdown under her own power. You take charge of provisioning her. Checkthose compartments you found and install oxy-generators aboard. Whenit's done report to me in my quarters.     I picked up the two samples of gleaming metal and called for ametallurgical testing kit. I'm going to try and find out if this stuffis worth anything....     The metal was heavy—too heavy, it seemed to me, for spaceshipconstruction. But then, who was to say what conditions existed on thatdistant world where this metal was made?     Under the bright fluorescent over my work-table, the chunks of metaltorn from a random bulkhead of the starship gleamed like pale silver;those strange little whorls that I had noticed on the outer hull werethere too, like tiny magnetic lines of force, making the surface ofthe metal seem to dance. I held the stuff in my bare hand.      It had ayellowish tinge, and it was heavier     ....     Even as I watched, the metal grew yellower, and the hand that heldit grew bone weary, little tongues of fatigue licking up my forearm.Suddenly terrified, I dropped the chunk as though it were white hot. Itstruck the table with a dull thud and lay there, a rich yellow lump ofmetallic lustre.     For a long while I just sat and stared. Then I began testing, tryingall the while to quiet the trembling of my hands. I weighed it on abalance. I tested it with acids. It had changed unquestionably. Itwas no longer the same as when I had carried it into my quarters. Thewhorls of force were gone. It was no longer alive with a questingvibrancy ... it was inert, stable. From somewhere, somehow, it haddrawn the energy necessary for transmutation. The unknown metal—thestuff of which that whole mammoth spaceship from the stars wasbuilt—was now....       Gold!       I scarcely dared believe it, but there it was staring at me from mytable-top.      Gold!       I searched my mind for an explanation. Contra-terrene matter, perhaps,from some distant island universe where matter reacted differently ...drawing energy from somewhere, the energy it needed to find stabilityin its new environment. Stability as a terrene element—wonderfully,miraculously gold!     And outside, in the void beyond the Maid's ports there were tons ofthis metal that could be turned into treasure. My laughter must havebeen a wild sound in those moments of discovery....  <doc-sep>In the evening a girl brought Maitland his meal. As the door slidaside, he automatically stood up, and they stared at each other forseveral seconds.     She had the high cheekbones and almond eyes of an Oriental, skin thatglowed like gold in the evening light, yet thick coiled braids ofblonde hair that glittered like polished brass. Shorts and a sleevelessblouse of some thick, reddish, metallic-looking fabric clung to herbody, and over that she was wearing a light, ankle-length cloak of whatseemed to be white wool.     She was looking at him with palpable curiosity and something likeexpectancy. Maitland sighed and said, Hello, then glanced downself-consciously at his wrinkled green pajamas.       She smiled, put the tray of food on the table, and swept out, her cloakbillowing behind her. Maitland remained standing, staring at the closeddoor for a minute after she was gone.     Later, when he had finished the steak and corn on the cob and shreddedcarrots, and a feeling of warm well-being was diffusing from hisstomach to his extremities, he sat down on the bed to watch the sunsetand to think.     There were three questions for which he required answers before hecould formulate any plan or policy.     Where was he?     Who was Swarts?     What was the purpose of the tests he was being given?     It was possible, of course, that this was all an elaborate schemefor getting military secrets, despite Swarts' protestations to thecontrary. Maitland frowned. This place certainly didn't have theappearance of a military establishment, and so far there had beennothing to suggest the kind of interrogation to be expected fromforeign intelligence officers.     It might be better to tackle the first question first. He looked atthe Sun, a red spheroid already half below the horizon, and tried tothink of a region that had this kind of terrain. That prairie out therewas unique. Almost anywhere in the world, land like that would becultivated, not allowed to go to grass.     This might be somewhere in Africa....     He shook his head, puzzled. The Sun disappeared and its blood-huedglow began to fade from the sky. Maitland sat there, trying to gethold of the problem from an angle where it wouldn't just slip away.After a while the western sky became a screen of clear luminous blue,a backdrop for a pure white brilliant star. As always at that sight,Maitland felt his worry drain away, leaving an almost mystical sense ofpeace and an undefinable longing.     Venus, the most beautiful of the planets.     Maitland kept track of them all in their majestic paths through theconstellations, but Venus was his favorite. Time and time again hehad watched its steady climb higher and higher in the western sky,its transient rule there as evening star, its progression toward thehorizon, and loved it equally in its      alter ego     of morning star. Venuswas an old friend. An old friend....     Something icy settled on the back of his neck, ran down his spine, anddiffused into his body. He stared at the planet unbelievingly, fistsclenched, forgetting to breathe.     Last night Venus hadn't been there.     Venus was a morning star just now....       Just now!       He realized the truth in that moment.  <doc-sep>After a time he said, Rodney, Wass, it's dust, down there. Rememberthe wind? Air currents are moving it.     Rodney sat down on the metal flooring. For a long time he said nothing.Then—It wasn't.... Why did you close the hatch then?     Martin did not say he thought the other two would have shot him,otherwise. He said merely, At first I wasn't sure myself.     Rodney stood up, backing away from the closed hatch. He held his gunloosely, and his hand shook. Then prove it. Open it again.     Martin went to the wheel. He noticed Wass was standing behind Rodneyand he, too, had drawn his gun.     The hatch rose again at Martin's direction. He stood beside it,outlined in the light of two torches.     For a little while he was alone.     Then—causing a gasp from Wass, a harsh expletive from Rodney—atenuous, questing alien limb edged through the hatch, curling aboutMartin, sparkling in ten thousand separate particles in the torchlight,obscuring the dimly seen backdrop of geometrical processions of strangeobjects.       Martin raised an arm, and the particles swirled in stately, shimmeringspirals.     Rodney leaned forward and looked over the edge of the hatch. He saidnothing. He eyed the sparkling particles swirling about Martin, andnow, himself.     How deep, Wass said, from his safe distance.     We'll have to lower a flashlight, Martin answered.     Rodney, all eagerness to be of assistance now, lowered a rope with atorch swinging wildly on the end of it.     The torch came to rest about thirty feet down. It shone on gentlyrolling mounds of fine, white stuff.     Martin anchored the rope soundly, and paused, half across the lipof the hatch to stare coldly at Wass. You'd rather monkey with theswitches and blow yourself to smithereens?     Wass sighed and refused to meet Martin's gaze. Martin looked at himdisgustedly, and then began to descend the rope, slowly, peering intothe infinite, sparkling darkness pressing around him. At the bottomof the rope he sank to his knees in dust, and then was held even. Hestamped his feet, and then, as well as he was able, did a standingjump. He sank no farther than his knees.     He sighted a path parallel with the avenue above, toward the nearestedge of the city. I think we'll be all right, he called out, as longas we avoid the drifts.     Rodney began the descent. Looking up, Martin saw Wass above Rodney.     All right, Wass, Martin said quietly, as Rodney released the rope andsank into the dust.     Not me, the answer came back quickly. You two fools go your way,I'll go mine.     Wass!     There was no answer. The light faded swiftly away from the opening.     The going was hard. The dust clung like honey to their feet, and eddiedand swirled about them until the purifying systems in their suits werehard-pressed to remove the fine stuff working in at joints and valves.     Are we going straight? Rodney asked.     Of course, Martin growled.     There was silence again, the silence of almost-exhausted determination.The two men lifted their feet out of the dust, and then laboriouslyplunged forward, to sink again to the knees, repeated the act, timeswithout number.     Then Wass broke his silence, taunting. The ship leaves in two hours,Martin. Two hours. Hear me, Rodney?     Martin pulled his left foot from the sand and growled deep in histhroat. Ahead, through the confusing patterns of the sparkling dust,his flashlight gleamed against metal. He grabbed Rodney's arm, pointed.     A grate.     Rodney stared. Wass! he shouted. We've found a way out!     Their radios recorded Wass' laughter. I'm at the switchboard now,Martin. I—     There was a tinkle of breaking glass, breaking faceplate.     The grate groaned upward and stopped.     Wass babbled incoherently into the radio for a moment, and then hebegan to scream.     Martin switched off his radio, sick.     He turned it on again when they reached the opening in the metal wall.Well?     I've been trying to get you, Rodney said, frantically. Why didn'tyou answer?     We couldn't do anything for him.     Rodney's face was white and drawn. But he did this for us.     So he did, Martin said, very quietly.     Rodney said nothing.     Then Martin said, Did you listen until the end?     Rodney nodded, jerkily. He pulled three more switches. I couldn'tunderstand it all. But—Martin, dying alone like that in a place likethis—!     Martin crawled into the circular pipe behind the grate. It tilted uptoward the surface. Come on, Rodney. Last lap.     An hour later they surfaced about two hundred yards away from theedge of the city. Behind them the black pile rose, the dome of forceshimmering, almost invisible, about it.     Ahead of them were the other two scoutships from the mother ship.Martin called out faintly, pulling Rodney out of the pipe. Crew membersstanding by the scoutships, and at the edge of the city, began to runtoward them.     Radio picked you up as soon as you entered the pipe, someone said. Itwas the last thing Martin heard before he collapsed.   <doc-sep>At first, Marge tried open warfare. She had to clean the place up, shesaid. I told her I didn't      want     her to clean it up. She could cleanthe whole house as often as she chose, but      I     would clean up theworkshop.     After a couple of sharp engagements on that field, Marge staged astrategic withdrawal and reorganized her attack. A little pile of woodshavings would be on the workshop floor one night and be gone the next.A wrench would be back on the rack—upside down, of course. An openpaint can would have a cover on it.     I always knew. I screamed loudly and bitterly. I ranted and raved. Iswore I'd rig up a booby-trap with a shotgun.     So she quit trying to clean in there and just went in once in a whileto take a look around. I fixed that with the old toothpick-in-the-doorroutine. Every time she so much as set foot in that workshop, she had abattle on her hands for the next week or so. She could count on it. Itwas that predictable.     She never found out how I knew, and after seven years or so, it woreher down. She didn't go into the workshop any more.     As I said, you've got to be persistent, but you'll win.     Eventually.     If you're      really     persistent.     Now all my effort paid off. I got Marge out of the house for an houror two that day and had George Prime delivered and stored in the bigcloset in the workshop. They hooked his controls up and left me amanual of instructions for running him. When I got home that night,there he was, just waiting to be put to work.     After supper, I went out to the workshop—to get the pipe I'd leftthere, I said. I pushed George Prime's button, winked at him andswitched on the free-behavior circuits.     Go to it, Brother, I said.     George Prime put my pipe in his mouth, lit it and walked back into thehouse.     Five minutes later, I heard them fighting.     It sounded so familiar that I laughed out loud. Then I caught a cab onthe corner and headed uptown.     We had quite a night, Jeree and I. I got home just about time to startfor work, and sure enough, there was George Prime starting my car,business suit on, briefcase under his arm.     I pushed the recall and George Prime got out of the car and walked intothe workshop. He stepped into his cradle in the closet. I turned himoff and then drove away in the car.     Bless his metallic soul, he'd even kissed Marge good-by for me!  <doc-sep>And now, Laura, it's nearly midnight. You're in your room, sleeping,and the house is silent.     It's hard to tell you, to make you understand, and that is why I amwriting this.     I looked through Charlie's box again, more carefully this time, readingthe old letters and studying the photographs. I believe now thatCharlie sensed my indecision, that he left these things so that theycould tell me what he could not express in words.     And among the things, Laura, I found a ring.     A wedding ring.     In that past he never talked about, there was a woman—his wife.Charlie was young once, his eyes full of dreams, and he faced the samedecision that I am facing. Two paths were before him, but he tried totravel both. He later learned what we already know—that there can beno compromise. And you know, too, which path he finally chose.     Do you know why he had to drug himself to watch me graduate? So hecould look at me, knowing that I would see the worlds he could neverlive to see. Charlie didn't leave just a few trinkets behind him. Heleft himself, Laura, for he showed me that a boy's dream can also be aman's dream.     He made his last trip to Luna when he knew he was going to die. Heavenknows how he escaped a checkup. Maybe the captain understood and waskind—but that doesn't matter now.     Do you know      why     he wanted to reach Mars? Do you know why he didn'twant to die in the clean, cool air of Earth?     It was because he wanted to die nearer home. His home, Laura, was theUniverse, where the ship was his house, the crew his father, mother,brothers, the planets his children.     You say that the beauty of the other side of the mountain vanishesafter you reach it. But how can one ever be      sure     until the journey ismade? Could I or Charlie or the thousand before us bear to look upon astar and think,      I might have gone there; I could have been the first     ?     We said, too, that the life of a spaceman is lonely. Yet how could onebe lonely when men like Charlie roam the spaceways?     Charlie wanted me to himself that night after graduation. He wanted usto celebrate as spacemen should, for he knew that this would be hislast night on Earth. It might have seemed an ugly kind of celebrationto you, but he wanted it with all his heart, and we robbed him of it.     Because of these things, Laura, I will be gone in the morning. Explainthe best you can to Mickey and to your parents and Dean Dawson.     Right now I've got a date that I'm going to keep—at a dingy stone cafeon Mars, the      Space Rat     , just off Chandler Field on the Grand Canal.     Stardust Charlie will be there; he'll go with me in memory to whateverpart of the Galaxy I may live to reach. And so will you, Laura.     I have two wedding rings with me—his wife's ring and yours.   <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the backdrop of the story HOME IS WHERE YOU LEFT IT?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What role do the Kumaji's play in the story ""HOME IS WHERE YOU LEFT IT""? [SEP] <s>  HOME IS WHERE YOU LEFT IT     By ADAM CHASE     [Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Amazing Stories February1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The chance of mass slaughter was their eternal nightmare.      How black is the blackest treachery? Is the most calloustraitor entitled to mercy? Steve pondered these questions. His decision?That at times the villain should possibly be spoken of as a hero.     Only the shells of deserted mud-brick houses greeted Steve Cantwell whenhe reached the village.     He poked around in them for a while. The desert heat was searing,parching, and the Sirian sun gleamed balefully off the blades of Steve'sunicopter, which had brought him from Oasis City, almost five hundredmiles away. He had remembered heat from his childhood here on Sirius'second planet with the Earth colony, but not heat like this. It was likea magnet drawing all the moisture out of his body.     He walked among the buildings, surprise and perhaps sadness etched onhis gaunt, weather-beaten face. Childhood memories flooded back: thesingle well from which all the families drew their water, the mud-brickhouse, hardly different from the others and just four walls and a roofnow, in which he'd lived with his aunt after his parents had been killedin a      Kumaji     raid, the community center where he'd spent his happiesttime as a boy.     He went to the well and hoisted up a pailful of water. The winch creakedas he remembered. He ladled out the water, suddenly very thirsty, andbrought the ladle to his lips.     He hurled the ladle away. The water was bitter. Not brackish.     Poisoned.     He spat with fury, then kneeled and stuffed his mouth with sand, almostgagging. After a while he spat out the sand too and opened his canteenand rinsed his mouth. His lips and mouth were paralyzed by contact withthe poison. He walked quickly across the well-square to his aunt'shouse. Inside, it was dim but hardly cooler. Steve was sweating, thesaline sweat making him blink. He scowled, not understanding. The tablewas set in his aunt's house. A coffeepot was on the stove and lastnight's partially-consumed dinner still on the table.     The well had been poisoned, the town had been deserted on the spur ofthe moment, and Steve had returned to his boyhood home from Earth—toolate for anything.     He went outside into the square. A lizard was sunning itself and staringat him with lidless eyes. When he moved across the square, the lizardscurried away.     Earthman! a quavering voice called.     Steve ran toward the sound. In the scant shadow of the community center,a Kumaji was resting. He was a withered old man, all skin and bones andsweat-stiffened tunic, with enormous red-rimmed eyes. His purple skin,which had been blasted by the merciless sun, was almost black.     Steve held the canteen to his lips and watched his throat working almostspasmodically to get the water down. After a while Steve withdrew thecanteen and said:     What happened here?     They're gone. All gone.     Yes, but what happened?     The Kumaji—     You're Kumaji.     This is my town, the old man said. I lived with the Earthmen. Nowthey're gone.     But you stayed here—     To die, the old man said, without self-pity. I'm too old to flee, tooold to fight, too old for anything but death. More water.  <doc-sep>Steve gave him another drink. You still haven't told me what happened.Actually, though, Steve could guess. With the twenty-second centuryEarth population hovering at the eleven billion mark, colonies weresought everywhere. Even on a parched desert wasteland like this. TheKumaji tribesmen had never accepted the colony as a fact of their lifeon the desert, and in a way Steve could not blame them. It meant oneoasis less for their own nomadic sustenance. When Steve was a boy,Kumaji raids were frequent. At school on Earth and Luna he'd read aboutthe raids, how they'd increased in violence, how the Earth government,so far away and utterly unable to protect its distant colony, hadsuggested withdrawal from the Kumaji desert settlement, especially sincea colony could exist there under only the most primitive conditions,almost like the purple-skinned Kumaji natives themselves.     When did it happen? Steve demanded.     Last night. It was now midafternoon. Three folks died, the Kumajisaid in his almost perfect English, from the poisoning of the well. Thewell was the last straw. The colonists had no choice. They had to go,and go fast, taking what little water they had left in the houses.     Will they try to walk all the way through to Oasis City? Oasis City,built at the confluence of two underground rivers which came to thesurface there and flowed the rest of the way to the sea above ground,was almost five hundred miles from the colony. Five hundred miles oftrackless sands and hundred-and-thirty-degree heat....     They have to, the old man said. And they have to hurry. Men, womenand children. The Kumaji are after them.  <doc-sep>Mary went to Gort and slapped his face. The elderly man did not evenblink. Well, he asked her gently, did your pa tell you he was going?     N-no, Mary said. There were tears in her eyes, but she did not cry.     Gort turned to Steve. Cantwell, can he get far in that 'copter?     Steve shook his head. Ten or fifteen miles is all. Almost out of fuel,Mr. Gort. You saw how I took her up for only a quick mile swing eachday. He won't get far.     He'll crash in the desert?     Crash or crash-land, Steve said.     Mary sobbed, and bit her lip, and was silent.     We've got to stop him, Gort said. And fast. If he gets to the Kumaji,they'll send down a raiding party and we'll be finished. We could neverfight them off without the protection of our village. Near as I canfigure, there's a Kumaji base fifty miles due north of here. Whitingknows it too, so that's where he'll be going, I figure. Can't spare morethan a couple of men to look for him, though, in case the Kumaji findus—or are led to us—and attack.     Steve said, I should have taken something out of the 'copter everynight, so it couldn't start. I'll go.     Mary came forward boldly. I have to go. He's my father. If he crashedout there, he may be hurt. He may be—dying.     Gort looked at her. And if he's trying to sell us out to the Kumajis?     Then—then I'll do whatever Steve asks me to. I promise.     That's good enough for me, Steve said.     A few minutes later, armed with atorifles and their share of the foodand water that was left, Steve and Mary set out northward across thesand while the caravan continued east. Fear of what they might findmounted.  <doc-sep>The first night, they camped in the lee of low sandhills. The secondnight they found a small spring with brackish but drinkable water. Onthe third day, having covered half the distance to the Kumajisettlement, they began to encounter Kumaji patrols, on foot or      thlotback     , the six-legged desert animals running so swiftly over thesands and so low to the ground that they almost seemed to be gliding.Steve and Mary hardly spoke. Talk was unnecessary. But slowly a bondgrew between them. Steve liked this slim silent girl who had come outhere with him risking her life although she must have known deep in herheart that her father had almost certainly decided to turn traitor inorder to regain his fortune.     On the fourth day, they spotted the unicopter from a long way off andmade their way toward it. It had come much further than Steve hadexpected. With sinking heart he realized that Tobias Whiting, if heescaped the crash-landing without injury, must surely have reached theKumaji encampment by now.     It doesn't seem badly damaged, Mary said.     The platform had buckled slightly, the 'copter was tilted over, one ofthe rotors twisted, its end buried in sand. Tobias Whiting wasn't there.     No, Steve said. It's hardly damaged at all. Your father got out of itall right.     To go—to them?     I think so, Mary. I don't want to pass judgment until we're sure. I'msorry.     Oh, Steve! Steve! What will we do? What      can     we do?     Find him, if it isn't too late. Come on.     North?     North.     And if by some miracle we find him?     Steve said nothing. The answer—capture or death—was obvious. But youcouldn't tell that to a traitor's daughter, could you?     As it turned out, they did not find Tobias Whiting through their ownefforts. Half an hour after setting out from the unicopter, they werespotted by a roving band of Kumajis, who came streaking toward them ontheir      thlots     . Mary raised her atorifle, but Steve struck the barrelaside. They'd kill us, he said. We can only surrender.     They were hobbled and led painfully across the sand. They were takenthat way to a small Kumaji encampment, and thrust within a circulartent.     Tobias Whiting was in there.  <doc-sep>Most of the cousins gasped as the truth began to percolate through.     I knew from the very beginning, Conrad finished, that I didn'thave to do anything at all. I just had to wait and you would destroyyourselves.     I don't understand, Bartholomew protested, searching the faces of thecousins closest to him. What does he mean, we have never existed?We're here, aren't we? What—     Shut up! Raymond snapped. He turned on Martin. You don't seemsurprised.     The old man grinned. I'm not. I figured it all out years ago.     At first, he had wondered what he should do. Would it be better tothrow them into a futile panic by telling them or to do nothing? Hehad decided on the latter; that was the role they had assigned him—towatch and wait and keep out of things—and that was the role he wouldplay.     You knew all the time and you didn't tell us! Raymond spluttered.After we'd been so good to you, making a gentleman out of you insteadof a criminal.... That's right, he snarled, a criminal! An alcoholic,a thief, a derelict! How do you like that?     Sounds like a rich, full life, Martin said wistfully.     What an exciting existence they must have done him out of! But then, hecouldn't help thinking, he—he and Conrad together, of course—had donethem out of      any     kind of existence. It wasn't his responsibility,though; he had done nothing but let matters take whatever course wasdestined for them. If only he could be sure that it was the bettercourse, perhaps he wouldn't feel that nagging sense of guilt insidehim. Strange—where, in his hermetic life, could he possibly havedeveloped such a queer thing as a conscience?     Then we've wasted all this time, Ninian sobbed, all this energy, allthis money, for nothing!     But you were nothing to begin with, Martin told them. And then,after a pause, he added, I only wish I could be sure there had beensome purpose to this.     He didn't know whether it was approaching death that dimmed his sight,or whether the frightened crowd that pressed around him was growingshadowy.     I wish I could feel that some good had been done in letting you bewiped out of existence, he went on voicing his thoughts. But I knowthat the same thing that happened to your worlds and my world willhappen all over again. To other people, in other times, but again. It'sbound to happen. There isn't any hope for humanity.     One man couldn't really change the course of human history, he toldhimself. Two men, that was—one real, one a shadow.     Conrad came close to the old man's bed. He was almost transparent.     No, he said, there is hope. They didn't know the time transmitterworks two ways. I used it for going into the past only once—just thisonce. But I've gone into the future with it many times. And— hepressed Martin's hand—believe me, what I did—what      we     did, you andI—serves a purpose. It will change things for the better. Everythingis going to be all right.  <doc-sep>Three days later, Tobias Whiting disappeared.     The caravan had been making no more than ten or fifteen miles a day.Their water supply was almost gone but on the fourth day they hoped toreach an oasis in the desert. Two of the older folks had died offatigue. A third was critically ill and there was little that could bedone for him. The food supply was running short, but they could alwaysslaughter their camels for food and make their way to Oasis City, stillfour hundred and some miles away, with nothing but the clothes on theirbacks.     And then, during the fourth night, Tobias Whiting disappeared, takingSteve's unicopter. A sentry had heard the low muffled whine of theturbojets during the night and had seen the small craft take off, buthad assumed Steve had taken it up for some reason. Each day Steve haddone so, reconnoitering for signs of the Kumaji.     But why? someone asked. Why?     At first there was no answer. Then a woman whose husband had died theday before said: It's no secret Whiting has plenty of money—with theKumaji.     None of them looked at Mary. She stood there defiantly, not sayinganything, and Steve squeezed her hand.     Now, wait a minute, one of Whiting's friends said.     Wait, nothing. This was Jeremy Gort, who twice had been mayor of thecolony. I know how Whiting's mind works. He slaved all his life forthat money, that's the way he'll see it. Cantwell, didn't you say theKumaji were looking for us, to kill us?     That's what I was told, Steve said.     All right, Gort went on relentlessly. Then this is what I figure musthave happened. Whiting got to brooding over his lost fortune and finallydecided he had to have it. So, he went off at night in Cantwell's'copter, determined to get it. Only catch is, folks, if I know theKumaji, they won't just give it to him—not by a long sight.     No? someone asked.     No sir. They'll trade. For our location. And if Whiting went off likethat without even saying good-bye to his girl here, my guess is he'llmake the trade. His voice reflected some bitterness.  <doc-sep>Steve took Mary's hand and pulled her out into the hot, dark, wind-blownnight. He carried the dead Kumaji's pike and they slipped across thesand to where the      thlots     were hobbled for the night. He hardlyremembered the rest of it. There was violence and death, but necessarydeath. He killed a man with the pike, and unhobbled one of the      thlots     .The animal screamed and two more Kumajis came sleepily through the nightto see what was the matter. With the long edge of the pike's blade hedecapitated one of them. He slammed the shaft of the weapon across theother's face, probably breaking his jaw. The camp was in a turmoil. Inthe darkness he flung Mary on the      thlot's     bare back in front of him,and they glided off across the sand.     Pursuit was disorganized—and unsuccessful. It was too dark foreffective pursuit, as Steve had hoped it would be. They rode swiftly allnight and continued riding with the dawn. They could have gone in anydirection. The wind-driven sand would obliterate their trail.     Two days later they reached the caravan. As they rode up, Mary said,Steve, do you have to tell them?     We can tell them this, Steve said. Your father died a hero's death,sending the Kumajis off in the wrong direction.     And not—not what he'd planned to do at first.     No. We'll tell them that was his intention all the while. A man canmake a mistake, can't he?     I love you, Steve. I love you.     Then they rode down on the caravan. Somehow Steve knew they would allreach Oasis City in safety.     With Mary he would find a new world out in the vastness of space.  <doc-sep>Darkness in the Kumaji encampment.     Far off, a lone tribesman singing a chant old as the desert.     Are you asleep? Mary asked.     No, Steve said.     Dad is. Listen to the way he's breathing—like a baby. As if—as if hewasn't going to betray all our people. Oh, I hate him, I hate him!     Steve crawled to where the older man was sleeping. Tobias Whiting'svoice surprised him. I'm not asleep. I was thinking. I—     I'm going to kill you, Steve said very softly, and sprang at Whiting.He paused, though. It was a calculated pause, and Whiting cried out asSteve had hoped he would. Then his hands found the older man's throatand closed there—not to kill him but to keep him from crying out again.     Sand stirred, the tentflap lifted, and a bulky figure rushed inside.Steve got up, met him halfway, felt the jarring contact of their bodies.The pike came up dimly in the darkness, the point scraping againstSteve's ribs as the guard lunged awkwardly. Steve's fingers sought thethick-muscled neck, clamped there—squeezing.     The guard writhed. His feet drummed the sand. With one hand he stabbedout wildly with the unwieldy pike. There was a cry from Mary and theguard managed a low squawking noise. Outside, the rest of the campseemed undisturbed. There was death in Steve's strong tighteningfingers. There had to be death there. Death for the Kumaji guard—ordeath for the fleeing Earthmen, who had lost one colony and must seekanother.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What role do the Kumaji's play in the story ""HOME IS WHERE YOU LEFT IT""?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you explain the importance of the elderly man in HOME IS WHERE YOU LEFT IT? [SEP] <s>Loyce relaxed a little. He studied the people around him. Dulled, tiredfaces. People going home from work. Quite ordinary faces. None of thempaid any attention to him. All sat quietly, sunk down in their seats,jiggling with the motion of the bus.     The man sitting next to him unfolded a newspaper. He began to read thesports section, his lips moving. An ordinary man. Blue suit. Tie. Abusinessman, or a salesman. On his way home to his wife and family.     Across the aisle a young woman, perhaps twenty. Dark eyes and hair, apackage on her lap. Nylons and heels. Red coat and white angora sweater.Gazing absently ahead of her.     A high school boy in jeans and black jacket.     A great triple-chinned woman with an immense shopping bag loaded withpackages and parcels. Her thick face dim with weariness.     Ordinary people. The kind that rode the bus every evening. Going home totheir families. To dinner.     Going home—with their minds dead. Controlled, filmed over with the maskof an alien being that had appeared and taken possession of them, theirtown, their lives. Himself, too. Except that he happened to be deep inhis cellar instead of in the store. Somehow, he had been overlooked.They had missed him. Their control wasn't perfect, foolproof.     Maybe there were others.     Hope flickered in Loyce. They weren't omnipotent. They had made amistake, not got control of him. Their net, their field of control, hadpassed over him. He had emerged from his cellar as he had gone down.Apparently their power-zone was limited.     A few seats down the aisle a man was watching him. Loyce broke off hischain of thought. A slender man, with dark hair and a small mustache.Well-dressed, brown suit and shiny shoes. A book between his smallhands. He was watching Loyce, studying him intently. He turned quicklyaway.     Loyce tensed. One of      them     ? Or—another they had missed?     The man was watching him again. Small dark eyes, alive and clever.Shrewd. A man too shrewd for them—or one of the things itself, an alieninsect from beyond.     The bus halted. An elderly man got on slowly and dropped his token intothe box. He moved down the aisle and took a seat opposite Loyce.     The elderly man caught the sharp-eyed man's gaze. For a split secondsomething passed between them.     A look rich with meaning.     Loyce got to his feet. The bus was moving. He ran to the door. One stepdown into the well. He yanked the emergency door release. The rubberdoor swung open.     Hey! the driver shouted, jamming on the brakes. What the hell—     Loyce squirmed through. The bus was slowing down. Houses on all sides. Aresidential district, lawns and tall apartment buildings. Behind him,the bright-eyed man had leaped up. The elderly man was also on his feet.They were coming after him.     Loyce leaped. He hit the pavement with terrific force and rolled againstthe curb. Pain lapped over him. Pain and a vast tide of blackness.Desperately, he fought it off. He struggled to his knees and then sliddown again. The bus had stopped. People were getting off.     Loyce groped around. His fingers closed over something. A rock, lying inthe gutter. He crawled to his feet, grunting with pain. A shape loomedbefore him. A man, the bright-eyed man with the book.     Loyce kicked. The man gasped and fell. Loyce brought the rock down. Theman screamed and tried to roll away.       Stop!     For God's sake listen—     He struck again. A hideous crunching sound. The man's voice cut off anddissolved in a bubbling wail. Loyce scrambled up and back. The otherswere there, now. All around him. He ran, awkwardly, down the sidewalk,up a driveway. None of them followed him. They had stopped and werebending over the inert body of the man with the book, the bright-eyedman who had come after him.     Had he made a mistake?     But it was too late to worry about that. He had to get out—away fromthem. Out of Pikeville, beyond the crack of darkness, the rent betweentheir world and his.  <doc-sep>A group of Sirians was traveling on the shelf above him on the slow,very slow jet bus that was flying Michael back to Angeles, back to theLodge, back to the Brotherhood, back to her. Their melancholy howlingwas getting on his nerves, but in a little while, he told himself, itwould be all over. He would be back home, safe with his own kind.     When our minds have grown tired, when our lives have expired, when oursorrows no longer can weary us, let our ashes return, neatly packed inan urn, to the bright purple swamps of our Sirius.     The advideo crackled: The gown her fairy godmother once gave toCinderella was created by the haute couture of fashion-wise Capella.     The ancient taxi was there, the one that Michael had taken from theLodge, early that morning, to the little Angeleno landing field, as ifit had been waiting for his return.     I see you're back, son, the driver said without surprise. He set thenoisy old rockets blasting. I been to Portyork once. It's not a badplace to live in, but I hate to visit it.     I'm back! Michael sank into the motheaten sable cushions and gazedwith pleasure at the familiar landmarks half seen in the darkness. I'mback! And a loud sneer to civilization!     Better be careful, son, the driver warned. I know this is a ruralarea, but civilization is spreading. There are secret police all over.How do you know I ain't a government spy? I could pull you in forinsulting civilization.     The elderly black and white advideo flickered, broke into purringsound: Do you find life continues to daze you? Do you find for a quickdeath you hanker? Why not try the new style euthanasia, performed byskilled workmen from Ancha?     Not any more, Michael thought contentedly. He was going home.  <doc-sep>Strange? The object rose a quarter of a mile above us, a huge, curvinghulk of smooth metal. It was featureless and yet conveyed a senseof      alienness     . It was alien and yet it wasn't a natural formation.Something had made the thing, whatever it was. But was it strange thatit hadn't been noticed before? Men had lived on the Moon for over ayear, but the Moon was vast and the      Mare Serenitatis     covered threehundred and forty thousand square miles.     What is it? Marie asked breathlessly.     Her husband grunted his bafflement. Who knows? But see how it curves?If it's a perfect sphere, it must be at least two miles in diameter!     If it's a perfect sphere, Miller suggested, most of it must bebeneath the Moon's surface.     Maybe it isn't a sphere, my wife said. Maybe this is all of it.     Let's call Lunar City and tell the authorities about it. I reachedfor the radio controls on my suit.     Kane grabbed my arm. No. Let's find out whatever we can by ourselves.If we tell the authorities, they'll order us to leave it alone. If wediscover something really important, we'll be famous!     I lowered my arm. His outburst seemed faintly childish to me. And yetit carried a good measure of common sense. If we discovered proof ofan alien race, we would indeed be famous. The more we discovered forourselves, the more famous we'd be. Fame was practically a synonym forprestige and wealth.     All right, I conceded.     Miller stepped forward, moving slowly in the bulk of his spacesuit.Deliberately, he removed a small torch from his side and pressed thebrilliant flame against the metal.     A few minutes later, the elderly mineralogist gave his opinion: It'ssteel ... made thousands of years ago.     Someone gasped over the intercom, Thousands of years! But wouldn't itbe in worse shape than this if it was that old?     Miller pointed at the small cut his torch had made in the metal. Thenotch was only a quarter of an inch deep. I say      steel     because it's      similar     to steel. Actually, it's a much stronger alloy. Besides that,on the Moon, there's been no water or atmosphere to rust it. Not evena wind to disturb its surface. It's      at least     several thousand yearsold.  <doc-sep>Untrimmed sumacs threw late-afternoon shadows on the discolored stuccofacade of the Elsby Public Library. Inside, Tremaine followed apaper-dry woman of indeterminate age to a rack of yellowed newsprint.     You'll find back to nineteen-forty here, the librarian said. Theolder are there in the shelves.     I want nineteen-oh-one, if they go back that far.     The woman darted a suspicious look at Tremaine. You have to handlethese old papers carefully.     I'll be extremely careful. The woman sniffed, opened a drawer, leafedthrough it, muttering.     What date was it you wanted?     Nineteen-oh-one; the week of May nineteenth.     The librarian pulled out a folded paper, placed it on the table,adjusted her glasses, squinted at the front page. That's it, shesaid. These papers keep pretty well, provided they're stored in thedark. But they're still flimsy, mind you.     I'll remember. The woman stood by as Tremaine looked over the frontpage. The lead article concerned the opening of the Pan-AmericanExposition at Buffalo. Vice-President Roosevelt had made a speech.Tremaine leafed over, reading slowly.     On page four, under a column headed      County Notes     he saw the name Bram:     Mr. Bram has purchased a quarter section of fine grazing land,north of town, together with a sturdy house, from J. P. Spivey ofElsby. Mr. Bram will occupy the home and will continue to graze afew head of stock. Mr. Bram, who is a newcomer to the county, hasbeen a resident of Mrs. Stoate's Guest Home in Elsby for the pastmonths.     May I see some earlier issues; from about the first of the year?     The librarian produced the papers. Tremaine turned the pages, read theheads, skimmed an article here and there. The librarian went back toher desk. An hour later, in the issue for July 7, 1900, an item caughthis eye:     A Severe Thunderstorm. Citizens of Elsby and the country were muchalarmed by a violent cloudburst, accompanied by lightning andthunder, during the night of the fifth. A fire set in the pinewoods north of Spivey's farm destroyed a considerable amount oftimber and threatened the house before burning itself out alongthe river.     The librarian was at Tremaine's side. I have to close the library now.You'll have to come back tomorrow.     Outside, the sky was sallow in the west: lights were coming on inwindows along the side streets. Tremaine turned up his collar against acold wind that had risen, started along the street toward the hotel.     A block away a black late-model sedan rounded a corner with a faintsqueal of tires and gunned past him, a heavy antenna mounted forwardof the left rear tail fin whipping in the slipstream. Tremaine stoppedshort, stared after the car.     Damn! he said aloud. An elderly man veered, eyeing him sharply.Tremaine set off at a run, covered the two blocks to the hotel, yankedopen the door to his car, slid into the seat, made a U-turn, and headednorth after the police car.  <doc-sep>The second dark of the third cycle was lightening when Retief left theEmbassy technical library and crossed the corridor to his office. Heflipped on a light. A note was tucked under a paperweight:     Retief—I shall expect your attendance at the IAS dinner at firstdark of the fourth cycle. There will be a brief but, I hope, impressiveSponsorship ceremony for the SCARS group, with full press coverage,arrangements for which I have managed to complete in spite of yourintransigence.     Retief snorted and glanced at his watch. Less than three hours. Justtime to creep home by flat-car, dress in ceremonial uniform and creepback.     Outside he flagged a lumbering bus. He stationed himself in a cornerand watched the yellow sun, Beta, rise rapidly above the low skyline.The nearby sea was at high tide now, under the pull of the major sunand the three moons, and the stiff breeze carried a mist of salt spray.     Retief turned up his collar against the dampness. In half an hour hewould be perspiring under the vertical rays of a third-noon sun, butthe thought failed to keep the chill off.     Two Youths clambered up on the platform, moving purposefully towardRetief. He moved off the rail, watching them, weight balanced.     That's close enough, kids, he said. Plenty of room on this scow. Noneed to crowd up.     There are certain films, the lead Fustian muttered. His voice wasunusually deep for a Youth. He was wrapped in a heavy cloak and movedawkwardly. His adolescence was nearly at an end, Retief guessed.     I told you once, said Retief. Don't crowd me.     The two stepped close, slit mouths snapping in anger. Retief put out afoot, hooked it behind the scaly leg of the overaged juvenile and threwhis weight against the cloaked chest. The clumsy Fustian tottered, fellheavily. Retief was past him and off the flat-car before the otherYouth had completed his vain lunge toward the spot Retief had occupied.The Terrestrial waved cheerfully at the pair, hopped aboard anothervehicle, watched his would-be assailants lumber down from their car,tiny heads twisted to follow his retreating figure.     So they wanted the film? Retief reflected, thumbing a cigar alight.They were a little late. He had already filed it in the Embassy vault,after running a copy for the reference files.     And a comparison of the drawings with those of the obsolete Mark XXXVbattle cruiser used two hundred years earlier by the Concordiat NavalArm showed them to be almost identical, gun emplacements and all. Theterm obsolete was a relative one. A ship which had been outmoded inthe armories of the Galactic Powers could still be king of the walk inthe Eastern Arm.     But how had these two known of the film? There had been no one presentbut himself and the old-timer—and he was willing to bet the elderlyFustian hadn't told them anything.     At least not willingly....     Retief frowned, dropped the cigar over the side, waited until theflat-car negotiated a mud-wallow, then swung down and headed for theshipyard.  <doc-sep>Mary went to Gort and slapped his face. The elderly man did not evenblink. Well, he asked her gently, did your pa tell you he was going?     N-no, Mary said. There were tears in her eyes, but she did not cry.     Gort turned to Steve. Cantwell, can he get far in that 'copter?     Steve shook his head. Ten or fifteen miles is all. Almost out of fuel,Mr. Gort. You saw how I took her up for only a quick mile swing eachday. He won't get far.     He'll crash in the desert?     Crash or crash-land, Steve said.     Mary sobbed, and bit her lip, and was silent.     We've got to stop him, Gort said. And fast. If he gets to the Kumaji,they'll send down a raiding party and we'll be finished. We could neverfight them off without the protection of our village. Near as I canfigure, there's a Kumaji base fifty miles due north of here. Whitingknows it too, so that's where he'll be going, I figure. Can't spare morethan a couple of men to look for him, though, in case the Kumaji findus—or are led to us—and attack.     Steve said, I should have taken something out of the 'copter everynight, so it couldn't start. I'll go.     Mary came forward boldly. I have to go. He's my father. If he crashedout there, he may be hurt. He may be—dying.     Gort looked at her. And if he's trying to sell us out to the Kumajis?     Then—then I'll do whatever Steve asks me to. I promise.     That's good enough for me, Steve said.     A few minutes later, armed with atorifles and their share of the foodand water that was left, Steve and Mary set out northward across thesand while the caravan continued east. Fear of what they might findmounted.  <doc-sep> id=chap03>  CHAPTER III   A Strange Encounter    Lorraine was not too enthusiastic about the proposedtrip to the Brandt estate. Finally she agreed toit under one condition. They were not to drive allthe way to the house which, she said, was just overthe hilltop. They were to park the car where noone would see it and follow the path to the fountain.     “But suppose we can’t find the path?” asked Judy.     “You’ll remember it, won’t you?”     Judy thought she would, but she wasn’t too sure.She and Lois both argued that it would be better toinquire at the house. Lois knew Helen Brandt slightly.     “She’d be glad to show us around. This way itlooks as if we’re planning a crime,” Lois said as theystarted off in the blue car she was driving.     It was a neat little car, not too conspicuous, andeasy to park in out-of-the-way places. Judy laughedand said if they did find the fountain she thoughtshe’d wish for one exactly like it.     “Well, you know what your grandmother saidabout wishes, don’t you?” Lorraine asked. “If youlet people know about them instead of mutteringthem to yourself most of them aren’t so impossible.”     “Quite true,” Judy agreed. “I’ll let Peter knowabout this one. He’s my Santa Claus, and it will soonbe Christmas. Maybe I should have worn the furcoat he gave me last year.”     “Your reversible’s better in case it rains. It’s toowarm for snow. We picked a perfect day for thistrip,” Lois continued, guiding the car around curvesas it climbed the steep hill beyond Dry Brook Hollow.     The trip was a short one. In twenty minutes theyhad covered the distance that had seemed such along way to Judy when she was riding in her grandfather’swagon.     “I’ve been thinking about it,” she said, “and I’vejust about figured out how it happened. I didn’tthink my grandparents knew the Brandts well enoughto pay them a visit, though. We must have lookedqueer driving up to a beautiful estate in Grandpa’sold farm wagon. I do remember that Grandma had  some hooked rugs to deliver. But that still doesn’texplain what happened afterwards. When I wokeup in the hammock I was alone in the garden. Horse,wagon, grandparents—all had disappeared.”     “How could they?” asked Lois.     “Anyway,” Lorraine began, “you had a chance tosee how beautiful everything was before—”     Again she broke off as if there were somethingshe wanted to tell but didn’t quite dare.     “Before what?” questioned Judy.     “Oh, nothing. Forget I said anything about it. Youwere telling us how you woke up in the hammock,but you never did explain how you got back home,”Lorraine reminded her.     “Didn’t I?” asked Judy. “I’d forgotten a lot of it,but it’s beginning to come back now. I do rememberdriving home along this road. You see, I thought mygrandparents had left me in the garden for a surpriseand would return for me. I told you I was all alone.There wasn’t a house in sight.”     “The Brandt house is just over the top of this nexthill,” Lois put in.     “I know. You told me that. Now I know why Icouldn’t see it. All I could see was a windowless oldtower and a path leading in that direction. Naturally,I followed it. There’s something about a path inthe woods that always tempts me.”     “We know that, Judy. Honey told us all aboutyour latest mystery. You followed a trail or something.”     “Well, this trail led out of the rose garden wherethe hammock was and then through an archway,”Judy continued. “All sorts of little cupids and gnomespeered out at me from unexpected places. I wasactually scared by the time I reached the old tower.There wasn’t time to explore it. Just then I heardthe rumble of my grandfather’s wagon and knew hewas driving off without me.”     “He was!” Judy’s friends both chorused in surprise,and Lois asked, “Why would he do a thing likethat?”     “I think now it was just to tease me. He did stopand wait for me after a while,” Judy remembered.“The rugs were gone. Grandma must have deliveredthem, but I didn’t ask where. If she made them forMrs. Brandt they may still be there.”     “I wouldn’t depend on it,” Lorraine said as theyturned up the narrow road to the Brandt estate.     “Watch out!” Judy suddenly exclaimed. “There’sanother car coming.”     As Lois swerved to avoid the oncoming car, Lorraineducked her head. She kept herself hidden behindJudy until the car had passed. The man drivingit was a stranger to Judy, but she would rememberhis hypnotic, dark eyes and swarthy complexion for along time. The soft brown hat he was wearing coveredmost of his hair.     “What’s the matter with you two?” asked Loiswhen the car had passed. “Aren’t you a little old forplaying hide and seek?”     “I wasn’t—playing. Let’s not go up there,” Lorrainebegged. “I don’t think the Brandts live thereany more.”     “Maybe not, but we can pretend we think they do,can’t we?” Judy replied a little uncertainly.     She was beginning to suspect that Lorraine knewmore about the Brandt estate than she was telling.     Lois kept on driving along the narrow, gravellyroad. Soon there were more evergreens and a hedgeof rhododendrons to be seen. They looked verygreen next to the leafless trees in the woods beyond.The sky was gray with white clouds being drivenacross it by the wind.     “There’s the tower!” Lorraine exclaimed. “I cansee it over to the left. It looks like something out ofGrimm’s Fairy Tales, doesn’t it?”     “It looks grim all right,” agreed Judy. “I wonderwhat it is.”     “I suppose it’s nothing but an old water tower. Itwould be fun to explore it, though,” Lois said. “Butif there are new people living here they’ll never giveus permission.”     “We might explore it without permission,” Judysuggested daringly. “Come on!” she urged her friendsas Lois parked the car in a cleared place beside theroad. “Who’s going to stop us? And who wants toexplore a gloomy old tower, anyway? Let’s look forthe fountain.”     “Do you think we should?” Lorraine asked. “Itwon’t be enchanted. I told you—”     “You told us very little,” Lois reminded her. “Ifyou know anything about the people who live herenow, I think you ought to let us know. Otherwise,I’m afraid we won’t be very welcome.”     “I don’t think they’ll welcome us, anyway. I doknow who they are,” Lorraine admitted. “You rememberRoger Banning from school, don’t you?I’ve seen him around here. His family must haveacquired sudden wealth, or else he’s just working onthe estate.”     “Then you’ve been here lately? Why didn’t youtell me?” asked Lois. “We always used to go placestogether.”     “It wasn’t important,” Lorraine replied evasively.“I was just out for a drive.”     “You plutocrats!” laughed Judy. “Each with acar of your own. You’re not interested in RogerBanning, are you, Lois? I’m sure you can do betterthan that. I did know him slightly, but not fromschool. The boys and girls were separated and wentto different high schools by the time we moved to  Farringdon. I remember his pal, Dick Hartwell, alot better. He was in our young people’s group atchurch.”     “Sh!” Lois cautioned her. “Nice people no longermention Dick Hartwell’s name. He’s doing time.”     “For what?” asked Judy.     Like Peter, her FBI husband, she preferred factsto gossip.     “Forgery, I guess. He stole some checkbooks fromhis father’s desk and forged the names of a lot of importantbusiness people. I think he forged some legaldocuments, too. Anyway, he went to the Federal Penitentiary.It was all in the papers,” Lorraine told her.     Now Judy did remember. It was something shewould have preferred to forget. She liked to thinkshe was a good judge of character, and she had takenDick Hartwell for a quiet, refined boy who wouldnever stoop to crime.     “I don’t see what all this has to do with the fountain,”Lois said impatiently. “Are we going to lookfor it, or aren’t we?”     “Of course we are. That’s what we came for. Ijust like to know what a tiger looks like before hesprings at me,” Judy explained.     “You seem to think there’s danger in this expeditionof ours, don’t you?” asked Lorraine.     “I don’t know what to think. You’re the one whoseems to know the answers, but you’re not telling.  Hiding your face back there gave you away. You’veseen that character who drove down this road and,for some reason, you were afraid he would see you.Why, Lorraine? Why didn’t you want to be recognized?”     Lorraine hesitated a moment and then repliedevasively, “People don’t generally enter privateestates without an invitation. That’s all.”     “I’d better turn the car around,” Lois decided,“in case we have to leave in a hurry. I don’t expectwe’ll encounter any tigers, but we may be accusedof trespassing.”     “I’m sure we will be,” announced Judy as twodark-coated figures strode down the road towardthem. “You drove right by a  NO TRESPASSING  sign,and this isn’t a welcoming committee coming tomeet us!”   <doc-sep>   Spacemen Die at Home     By EDWARD W. LUDWIG     Illustrated by THORNE     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction October 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        One man's retreat is another's prison ... and       it takes a heap of flying to make a hulk a home!        Forty days of heaven and forty nights of hell. That's the way it'sbeen, Laura. But how can I make you understand? How can I tell youwhat it's like to be young and a man and to dream of reaching thestars? And yet, at the same time, to be filled with a terrible, gnawingfear—a fear locked in my mind during the day and bursting out like anevil jack-in-the-box at night. I must tell you, Laura.     Perhaps if I start at the beginning, the very beginning....     It was the Big Day. All the examinations, the physicals and psychos,were over. The Academy, with its great halls and classrooms andlaboratories, lay hollow and silent, an exhausted thing at sleep afterspawning its first-born.     For it was June in this year of 1995, and we were the graduating classof the U. S. Academy of Interplanetary Flight.     The      first     graduating class, Laura. That's why it was so important,because we were the      first     .     We sat on a little platform, twenty-five of us. Below us was a beachof faces, most of them strange, shining like pebbles in the warm NewMexican sunlight. They were the faces of mothers and fathers andgrandparents and kid brothers and sisters—the people who a short timeago had been only scrawled names on letters from home or words spokenwistfully at Christmas. They were the memory-people who, to me, hadnever really existed.     But today they had become real, and they were here and looking at uswith pride in their eyes.     A voice was speaking, deep, sure, resonant. ... these boys have workedhard for six years, and now they're going to do a lot of big things.They're going to bring us the metals and minerals that we desperatelyneed. They're going to find new land for our colonists, good rich landthat will bear food and be a home for our children. And perhaps mostimportant of all, they'll make other men think of the stars and look upat them and feel humility—for mankind needs humility.     The speaker was Robert Chandler, who'd brought the first rocket down onMars just five years ago, who'd established the first colony there, andwho had just returned from his second hop to Venus.     Instead of listening to his words, I was staring at his broad shouldersand his dark, crew-cut hair and his white uniform which was silk-smoothand skin-tight. I was worshiping him and hating him at the same time,for I was thinking:       He's already reached Mars and Venus. Let him leave Jupiter and theothers alone! Let us be the first to land somewhere! Let us be thefirst!    <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you explain the importance of the elderly man in HOME IS WHERE YOU LEFT IT?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in Dream Town? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>His entire body trembled. His mind trembled too. He walked, and came toa waist-high metal railing, and made a tiny sound deep in his throat.He looked out over water, endless water rolling in endless waves underthe night sky. Crashing water, topped with reflected silver from themoon. Pounding water, filling the air with spray.     He put out his hands and grasped the railing. It was wet. He raiseddamp fingers to his mouth. Salt.     He stepped back, back, and turned and ran. He ran wildly, blindly,until he could run no more. Then he fell, feeling the sand beneath him,and shut his eyes and mind to everything.     Much later, he got up and went to the fence and climbed it. He camedown on the other side and looked around and saw Plum. He walked toher, mounted her, sat still. The thoughts, or dreams, or whatever theywere which had been torturing him these past few weeks began torturinghim again.     It was getting light. His head was splitting.     Davie. His son Davie. Fourteen years old. Going to high school intown....       Town!     He should've gone there in the first place! He would ride east,to the road, then head south, back toward home. That would bring himright down Main Street. Regulations or not, he'd talk to people, findout what was happening.     He kicked Plum's sides. The mare began to move. He kept kicking untilshe broke into a brisk canter. He held on with hands and legs.     Why hadn't he seen the Pangborns and Elvertons lately—a long timelately?       The ocean. He'd seen the ocean. Not a reservoir or lake made byflooding and by damming, but salt water and enormous. An ocean, wherethere could be no ocean. The Pangborns and Elvertons had been wherethat ocean was now. And after the Elvertons had come the Dobsons.And after them the new plastics plant. And after that the city ofCrossville. And after that....       He was passing his own farm. He hadn't come through town, and yet herehe was at his own farm. Could he have forgotten where town was? Couldit be north of his home, not south? Could a man get so confused as toforget things he'd known all his life?     He reached the Shanks' place, and passed it at a trot. Then he wasbeyond their boundaries and breaking regulations again. He stayed onthe road. He went by a small house and saw colored folks in the yard.There'd been no colored folks here. There'd been Eli Bergen and hisfamily and his mother, in a bigger, newer house. The colored folksheard Plum's hooves and looked up and stared. Then a man raised hisvoice. Mistah, you breakin' regulations! Mistah, the police gonnah getyou!  <doc-sep>Sorry, the Vinzz said impersonally, in English that was perfectexcept for the slight dampening of the sibilants, but I'm afraid youcannot play.     Why not? The emaciated young man began to put on his clothes.     You know why. Your body is worthless. And this is a reputable house.     But I have plenty of money. The young man coughed. The Vinzzshrugged. I'll pay you twice the regular fee.     The green one shook his head. Regrettably, I do mean what I say. Thisgame is really clean.     In a town like this?     That is the reason we can afford to be honest. The Vinzz' tendrilsquivered in what the man had come to recognize as amusement throughlong, but necessarily superficial acquaintance with the Vinzz. Hisheavy robe of what looked like moss-green velvet, but might have beenvelvet-green moss, encrusted with oddly faceted alien jewels, swungwith him.     We do a lot of business here, he said unnecessarily, for the wholeset-up spelled wealth far beyond the dreams of the man, and he was byno means poor when it came to worldly goods. Why don't you try anothertown where they're not so particular?     The young man smiled wryly. Just his luck to stumble on a sunny game.He never liked to risk following his quarry in the same configuration.And even though only the girl had actually seen him this time, hewouldn't feel at ease until he had made the usual body-shift. Washe changing because of Gabriel, he wondered, or was he using his owndiscoverment and identification simply as an excuse to cover the factthat none of the bodies that fell to his lot ever seemed to fit him?Was he activated solely by revenge or as much by the hope that in thehazards of the game he might, impossible though it now seemed, some daywin another body that approached perfection as nearly as his originalcasing had?     He didn't know. However, there seemed to be no help for it now; hewould have to wait until they reached the next town, unless the girl,seeing him reappear in the same guise, would guess what had happenedand tell her husband. He himself had been a fool to admit to her thatthe hulk he inhabited was a sick one; he still couldn't understandhow he could so casually have entrusted her with so vital a piece ofinformation.  <doc-sep>  At  the table, Dawesasked his destination.     Wedding in Salinas, heexplained. Old Army friendof mine. I picked this hitchhikerup about two miles fromhere. He      seemed     okay.     Never can tell, Dawessaid placidly, munching egg.Hey, Ma. That why youwere so late comin' to courtlast night?     That's right, Pa. Shepoured the blackest coffeeSol had ever seen. Didn'tmiss much, though.     What court is that? Solasked politely, his mouth full.     Umagum, Sally said, apiece of toast sticking outfrom the side of her mouth.Don't you know      nothin'     ?           Arma     gon, Dawes corrected.He looked sheepishly atthe stranger. Don't expectMister— He cocked an eyebrow.What's the name?     Becker.     Don't expect Mr. Beckerknows anything about Armagon.It's just a dream, youknow. He smiled apologetically.     Dream? You mean this—Armagonis a place you dreamabout?     Yep, Dawes said. He liftedcup to lip. Great coffee,Ma. He leaned back with acontented sigh. Dream aboutit every night. Got so used tothe place, I get all confusedin the daytime.     Mom said: I get muddle-headedtoo, sometimes.     You mean— Sol put hisnapkin in his lap. You mean      you     dream about the sameplace?     Sure, Sally piped. Weall go there at night. I'm goin'to the palace again, too.     If you brush your teeth,Mom said primly.     If I brush my teeth. Boy,you shoulda seen the exelution!     Execution, her fathersaid.     Oh, my goodness! Momgot up hastily. That remindsme. I gotta call poor Mrs.Brundage. It's the      least     Icould do.     Good idea, Dawes nodded.And I'll have to roundup some folks and get oldBrundage out of there.     Sol was staring. He openedhis mouth, but couldn't thinkof the right question to ask.Then he blurted out: Whatexecution?     None of      your     business,the man said coldly. You eatup, young man. If you wantme to get Sheriff Cooganlookin' for your car.     The rest of the meal wentsilently, except for Sally's insistenceupon singing herschool song between mouthfuls.When Dawes wasthrough, he pushed back hisplate and ordered Sol to getready.     Sol grabbed his topcoat andfollowed the man out thedoor.     Have to stop someplacefirst, Dawes said. But we'llbe pickin' up the Sheriff onthe way. Okay with you?     Fine, Sol said uneasily.     The rain had stopped, butthe heavy clouds seemed reluctantto leave the skies overthe small town. There was askittish breeze blowing, andSol Becker tightened the collarof his coat around hisneck as he tried to keep upwith the fast-stepping Dawes. <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>A few weeks of this and I became a bit dazed.     And then there was the problem of everyday existence. You might sayit's lucky to be an N/P for a while. I've heard people say that. Basicneeds provided, worlds of leisure time; on the surface it soundsattractive.     But let me give you an example. Say it is monthly realfood day. You goto the store, your mouth already watering in anticipation. You takeyour place in line and wait for your package. The distributor takesyour coupon book and is all ready to reach for your package—and thenhe sees the fatal letters N/P. Non-Producer. A drone, a drain upon theState. You can see his stare curdle. He scowls at the book again.     Not sure this is in order. Better go to the end of the line. We'llcheck it later.     You know what happens before the end of the line reaches the counter.No more packages.     Well, I couldn't get myself off N/P status until I got a post, andwith my name I      couldn't     get a post.     Nor could I change my name. You know what happens when you try tochange something already on the records. The very idea of wantingchange implies criticism of the State. Unthinkable behavior.     That was why this curious dream voice shocked me so. The thing that itsuggested was quite as embarrassing as its non-standard, emotional,provocative tone.     Bear with me; I'm getting to the voice—to      her     —in a moment.     I want to tell you first about the loneliness, the terrible loneliness.I could hardly join group games at any of the rec centers. I could joinno special interest clubs or even State Loyalty chapters. Although Idabbled with theoretical research in my own quarters, I could scarcelysubmit any findings for publication—not with my name attached. Apseudonym would have been non-regulation and illegal.     But there was the worst thing of all. I could not mate.  <doc-sep>  Mr. Dawes  came home anhour later, looking tired.Mom pecked him lightly onthe forehead. He glanced atthe evening paper, and thenspoke to Sol.     Hear you been askingquestions, Mr. Becker.     Sol nodded, embarrassed.Guess I have. I'm awfullycurious about this Armagonplace. Never heard of anythinglike it before.     Dawes grunted. You ain'ta reporter?     Oh, no. I'm an engineer. Iwas just satisfying my owncuriosity.     Uh-huh. Dawes lookedreflective. You wouldn't bethinkin' about writing us upor anything. I mean, this is apretty private affair.     Writing it up? Solblinked. I hadn't thought ofit. But you'll have to admit—it'ssure interesting.     Yeah, Dawes said narrowly.I guess it would be.     Supper! Mom called.     After the meal, they spenta quiet evening at home. Sallywent to bed, screaming herreluctance, at eight-thirty.Mom, dozing in the big chairnear the fireplace, padded upstairsat nine. Then Dawesyawned widely, stood up, andsaid goodnight at quarter-of-ten.     He paused in the doorwaybefore leaving.     I'd think about that, hesaid. Writing it up, I mean.A lot of folks would thinkyou were just plum crazy.     Sol laughed feebly. Iguess they would at that.     Goodnight, Dawes said.     Goodnight.     He read Sally's copy of      Treasure Island     for abouthalf an hour. Then he undressed,made himself comfortableon the sofa, snuggledunder the soft blanketthat Mom had provided, andshut his eyes.     He reviewed the events ofthe day before dropping offto sleep. The troublesomeSally. The strange dreamworld of Armagon. The visitto the barber shop. The removalof Brundage's body.The conversations with thetownspeople. Dawes' suspiciousattitude ...     Then sleep came. <doc-sep>Untrimmed sumacs threw late-afternoon shadows on the discolored stuccofacade of the Elsby Public Library. Inside, Tremaine followed apaper-dry woman of indeterminate age to a rack of yellowed newsprint.     You'll find back to nineteen-forty here, the librarian said. Theolder are there in the shelves.     I want nineteen-oh-one, if they go back that far.     The woman darted a suspicious look at Tremaine. You have to handlethese old papers carefully.     I'll be extremely careful. The woman sniffed, opened a drawer, leafedthrough it, muttering.     What date was it you wanted?     Nineteen-oh-one; the week of May nineteenth.     The librarian pulled out a folded paper, placed it on the table,adjusted her glasses, squinted at the front page. That's it, shesaid. These papers keep pretty well, provided they're stored in thedark. But they're still flimsy, mind you.     I'll remember. The woman stood by as Tremaine looked over the frontpage. The lead article concerned the opening of the Pan-AmericanExposition at Buffalo. Vice-President Roosevelt had made a speech.Tremaine leafed over, reading slowly.     On page four, under a column headed      County Notes     he saw the name Bram:     Mr. Bram has purchased a quarter section of fine grazing land,north of town, together with a sturdy house, from J. P. Spivey ofElsby. Mr. Bram will occupy the home and will continue to graze afew head of stock. Mr. Bram, who is a newcomer to the county, hasbeen a resident of Mrs. Stoate's Guest Home in Elsby for the pastmonths.     May I see some earlier issues; from about the first of the year?     The librarian produced the papers. Tremaine turned the pages, read theheads, skimmed an article here and there. The librarian went back toher desk. An hour later, in the issue for July 7, 1900, an item caughthis eye:     A Severe Thunderstorm. Citizens of Elsby and the country were muchalarmed by a violent cloudburst, accompanied by lightning andthunder, during the night of the fifth. A fire set in the pinewoods north of Spivey's farm destroyed a considerable amount oftimber and threatened the house before burning itself out alongthe river.     The librarian was at Tremaine's side. I have to close the library now.You'll have to come back tomorrow.     Outside, the sky was sallow in the west: lights were coming on inwindows along the side streets. Tremaine turned up his collar against acold wind that had risen, started along the street toward the hotel.     A block away a black late-model sedan rounded a corner with a faintsqueal of tires and gunned past him, a heavy antenna mounted forwardof the left rear tail fin whipping in the slipstream. Tremaine stoppedshort, stared after the car.     Damn! he said aloud. An elderly man veered, eyeing him sharply.Tremaine set off at a run, covered the two blocks to the hotel, yankedopen the door to his car, slid into the seat, made a U-turn, and headednorth after the police car.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in Dream Town?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What are the defining traits of Willie Dawes, and who is he in relation to Dream Town? [SEP] <s>  He  was flanked by marblepillars, thrusting towardsa high-domed ceiling.     The room stretched longand wide before him, thewalls bedecked in stunningpurple draperies.     He whirled at the sound offootsteps, echoing stridentlyon the stone floor. Someonewas running towards him.     It was Sally, pigtailsstreaming out behind her, thesmall body wearing a flowingwhite toga. She was shrieking,laughing as she skitteredpast him, clutching a gleaminggold helmet.     He called out to her, butshe was too busy outdistancingher pursuer. It was SheriffCoogan, puffing and huffing,the metal-and-gold clothuniform ludicrous on hislanky frame.     Consarn kid! he wheezed.Gimme my hat!     Mom was following him,her stout body regal in scarletrobes. Sally! You giveSir Coogan his helmet! Youhear?     Mrs. Dawes! Sol said.     Why, Mr. Becker! Hownice to see you again! Pa!      Pa!     Look who's here!     Willie Dawes appeared.      No!     Sol thought. This was      King     Dawes; nothing elsecould explain the magnificenceof his attire.     Yes, Dawes said craftily.So I see. Welcome to Armagon,Mr. Becker.     Armagon? Sol gaped.Then this is the placeyou've been dreaming about?     Yep, the King said. Andnow      you're     in it, too.     Then I'm only dreaming!     Charlie, the fat man,clumsy as ever in his robes ofState, said: So      that's     thesnooper, eh?     Yep, Dawes chuckled.Think you better round upthe Knights.     Sol said: The Knights?     Exelution! Exelution!Sally shrieked.     Now wait a minute—     Charlie shouted.     Running feet, clanking ofarmor. Sol backed up againsta pillar. Now look here.You've gone far enough—     Not quite, said the King.     The Knights stepped forward.     Wait! Sol screamed.     Familiar faces, under shininghelmets, moved towardshim; the tips of sharp-pointedspears gleaming wickedly.And Sol Becker wondered—wouldhe ever awake?     Transcriber's Note:   This etext was produced from    Fantastic Universe   January 1957.Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling andtypographical errors have been corrected without note.<doc-sep>  He  took a walk.     The town was just comingto life. People were strollingout of their houses, commentingon the weather, chucklingamiably about local affairs.Kids on bicycles were beginningto appear, jangling thelittle bells and hooting toeach other. A woman, hangingwash in the back yard,called out to him, thinkinghe was somebody else.     He found a little park, nomore than twenty yards incircumference, centeredaround a weatherbeaten monumentof some unrecognizablemilitary figure. Threeold men took their places onthe bench that circled theGeneral, and leaned on theircanes.     Sol was a civil engineer.But he made like a reporter.     Pardon me, sir. The oldman, leathery-faced, with afine yellow moustache, lookedat him dumbly. Have youever heard of Armagon?     You a stranger?     Yes.     Thought so.     Sol repeated the question.     Course I did. Been goin'there ever since I was a kid.Night-times, that is.     How—I mean, what kindof place is it?     Said you're a stranger?     Yes.     Then 'tain't your business.     That was that.     He left the park, and wanderedinto a thriving luncheonette.He tried questioningthe man behind the counter,who merely snickered andsaid: You stayin' with theDawes, ain't you? Better askWillie, then. He knows theplace better than anybody.     He asked about the execution,and the man stiffened.     Don't think I can talkabout that. Fella broke one ofthe Laws; that's about it.Don't see where you comeinto it.     At eleven o'clock, he returnedto the Dawes residence,and found Mom in thekitchen, surrounded by thewarm nostalgic odor of home-bakedbread. She told himthat her husband had left amessage for the stranger, informinghim that the StatePolice would be around to gethis story.     He waited in the house,gloomily turning the pages ofthe local newspaper, searchingfor references to Armagon.He found nothing.     At eleven-thirty, a brown-facedState Trooper came tocall, and Sol told his story.He was promised nothing,and told to stay in town untilhe was contacted again bythe authorities.     Mom fixed him a lightlunch, the greatest feature ofwhich was some hot biscuitsshe plucked out of the oven.It made him feel almost normal.     He wandered around thetown some more after lunch,trying to spark conversationwith the residents.     He learned little. <doc-sep>  At  the table, Dawesasked his destination.     Wedding in Salinas, heexplained. Old Army friendof mine. I picked this hitchhikerup about two miles fromhere. He      seemed     okay.     Never can tell, Dawessaid placidly, munching egg.Hey, Ma. That why youwere so late comin' to courtlast night?     That's right, Pa. Shepoured the blackest coffeeSol had ever seen. Didn'tmiss much, though.     What court is that? Solasked politely, his mouth full.     Umagum, Sally said, apiece of toast sticking outfrom the side of her mouth.Don't you know      nothin'     ?           Arma     gon, Dawes corrected.He looked sheepishly atthe stranger. Don't expectMister— He cocked an eyebrow.What's the name?     Becker.     Don't expect Mr. Beckerknows anything about Armagon.It's just a dream, youknow. He smiled apologetically.     Dream? You mean this—Armagonis a place you dreamabout?     Yep, Dawes said. He liftedcup to lip. Great coffee,Ma. He leaned back with acontented sigh. Dream aboutit every night. Got so used tothe place, I get all confusedin the daytime.     Mom said: I get muddle-headedtoo, sometimes.     You mean— Sol put hisnapkin in his lap. You mean      you     dream about the sameplace?     Sure, Sally piped. Weall go there at night. I'm goin'to the palace again, too.     If you brush your teeth,Mom said primly.     If I brush my teeth. Boy,you shoulda seen the exelution!     Execution, her fathersaid.     Oh, my goodness! Momgot up hastily. That remindsme. I gotta call poor Mrs.Brundage. It's the      least     Icould do.     Good idea, Dawes nodded.And I'll have to roundup some folks and get oldBrundage out of there.     Sol was staring. He openedhis mouth, but couldn't thinkof the right question to ask.Then he blurted out: Whatexecution?     None of      your     business,the man said coldly. You eatup, young man. If you wantme to get Sheriff Cooganlookin' for your car.     The rest of the meal wentsilently, except for Sally's insistenceupon singing herschool song between mouthfuls.When Dawes wasthrough, he pushed back hisplate and ordered Sol to getready.     Sol grabbed his topcoat andfollowed the man out thedoor.     Have to stop someplacefirst, Dawes said. But we'llbe pickin' up the Sheriff onthe way. Okay with you?     Fine, Sol said uneasily.     The rain had stopped, butthe heavy clouds seemed reluctantto leave the skies overthe small town. There was askittish breeze blowing, andSol Becker tightened the collarof his coat around hisneck as he tried to keep upwith the fast-stepping Dawes. <doc-sep>  They  crossed thestreet diagonally, and entereda two-story wooden building.Dawes took the stairs at abrisk pace, and pushed openthe door on the second floor.A fat man looked up frombehind a desk.     Hi, Charlie. Thought I'dsee if you wanted to helpmove Brundage.     The man batted his eyes.Oh, Brundage! he said.You know, I clean forgotabout him? He laughed.Imagine me forgettingthat?     Yeah. Dawes wasn'tamused. And you Prince Regent.     Aw, Willie—     Well, come on. Stir thatfat carcass. Gotta pick upSheriff Coogan, too. Thishere gentleman has to see himabout somethin' else.     The man regarded Sol suspiciously.Never seen youbefore. Night      or     day. Stranger?     Come      on     ! Dawes said.     The fat man grunted andhoisted himself out of theswivel chair. He followedlamely behind the two menas they went out into thestreet again.     A woman, with an emptymarket basket, nodded casuallyto them. Mornin', folks.Enjoyed it last night.Thought you made a rightnice speech, Mr. Dawes.     Thanks, Dawes answeredgruffly, but obviously flattered.We were just goin'over to Brundage's to pick upthe body. Ma's gonna pay acall on Mrs. Brundage aroundten o'clock. You care to visit?     Why, I think that's verynice, the woman said. I'llbe sure and do that. Shesmiled at the fat man. Mornin',Prince.     Sol's head was spinning. Asthey left the woman and continuedtheir determinedmarch down the quiet street,he tried to find answers.     Look, Mr. Dawes. He waspanting; the pace was fast.Does      she     dream about this—Armagon,too? That womanback there?     Yep.     Charlie chuckled. He's astranger, all right.     And you, Mr.— Solturned to the fat man. Youalso know about this palaceand everything?     I told you, Dawes saidtestily. Charlie here's PrinceRegent. But don't let the fancytitle fool you. He got nomore power than any Knightof the Realm. He's just toodern fat to do much more'nsit on a throne and eat grapes.That right, Charlie?     The fat man giggled.     Here's the Sheriff, Dawessaid.     The Sheriff, a sleepy-eyedcitizen with a long, sad face,was rocking on a porch asthey approached his house,trying to puff a half-lit pipe.He lifted one hand wearilywhen he saw them.     Hi, Cookie, Dawesgrinned. Thought you, me,and Charlie would get Brundage'sbody outa the house.This here's Mr. Becker; hegot another problem. Mr.Becker, meet Cookie Coogan.     The Sheriff joined the procession,pausing only once toinquire into Sol's predicament.     He described the hitchhikerincident, but Cooganlistened stoically. He murmuredsomething about theTroopers, and shuffled alongsidethe puffing fat man.     Sol soon realized that theirdestination was a barber shop.     Dawes cupped his handsover the plate glass andpeered inside. Gold letters onthe glass advertised: HAIRCUTSHAVE & MASSAGEPARLOR. He reported: Nobodyin the shop. Must beupstairs. <doc-sep>  Mr. Dawes  came home anhour later, looking tired.Mom pecked him lightly onthe forehead. He glanced atthe evening paper, and thenspoke to Sol.     Hear you been askingquestions, Mr. Becker.     Sol nodded, embarrassed.Guess I have. I'm awfullycurious about this Armagonplace. Never heard of anythinglike it before.     Dawes grunted. You ain'ta reporter?     Oh, no. I'm an engineer. Iwas just satisfying my owncuriosity.     Uh-huh. Dawes lookedreflective. You wouldn't bethinkin' about writing us upor anything. I mean, this is apretty private affair.     Writing it up? Solblinked. I hadn't thought ofit. But you'll have to admit—it'ssure interesting.     Yeah, Dawes said narrowly.I guess it would be.     Supper! Mom called.     After the meal, they spenta quiet evening at home. Sallywent to bed, screaming herreluctance, at eight-thirty.Mom, dozing in the big chairnear the fireplace, padded upstairsat nine. Then Dawesyawned widely, stood up, andsaid goodnight at quarter-of-ten.     He paused in the doorwaybefore leaving.     I'd think about that, hesaid. Writing it up, I mean.A lot of folks would thinkyou were just plum crazy.     Sol laughed feebly. Iguess they would at that.     Goodnight, Dawes said.     Goodnight.     He read Sally's copy of      Treasure Island     for abouthalf an hour. Then he undressed,made himself comfortableon the sofa, snuggledunder the soft blanketthat Mom had provided, andshut his eyes.     He reviewed the events ofthe day before dropping offto sleep. The troublesomeSally. The strange dreamworld of Armagon. The visitto the barber shop. The removalof Brundage's body.The conversations with thetownspeople. Dawes' suspiciousattitude ...     Then sleep came. <doc-sep>  The  fat man rang thebell. It was a while before ananswer came.     It was a reedy woman in ahousecoat, her hair in curlers,her eyes red and swollen.     Now, now, Dawes saidgently. Don't you take onlike that, Mrs. Brundage. Youheard the charges. It haddabe this way.     My poor Vincent, shesobbed.     Better let us up, theSheriff said kindly. No usejust lettin' him lay there,Mrs. Brundage.     He didn't mean no harm,the woman snuffled. He wasjust purely ornery, Vincentwas. Just plain mean stubborn.     The law's the law, thefat man sighed.     Sol couldn't hold himselfin.     What law? Who's dead?How did it happen?     Dawes looked at him disgustedly.Now is it any of      your     business? I mean, is it?     I don't know, Sol saidmiserably.     You better stay out ofthis, the Sheriff warned.This is a local matter, youngman. You better stay in theshop while we go up.     They filed past him and thecrying Mrs. Brundage.     When they were out ofsight, Sol pleaded with her.     What happened? How didyour husband die?     Please ...     You must tell me! Was itsomething to do with Armagon?Do you dream about theplace, too?     She was shocked at thequestion. Of course!     And your husband? Didhe have the same dream?     Fresh tears resulted. Can'tyou leave me alone? Sheturned her back. I got thingsto do. You can make yourselfcomfortable— She indicatedthe barber chairs, and leftthrough the back door.     Sol looked after her, andthen ambled over to the firstchair and slipped into thehigh seat. His reflection inthe mirror, strangely gray inthe dim light, made himgroan. His clothes were amess, and he needed a shave.If only Brundage had beenalive ...     He leaped out of the chairas voices sounded behind thedoor. Dawes was kicking itopen with his foot, his armsladen with two rather largefeet, still encased in bedroomslippers. Charlie was at theother end of the burden,which appeared to be a middle-agedman in pajamas. TheSheriff followed the trio upwith a sad, undertaker expression.Behind him came Mrs.Brundage, properly weeping.     We'll take him to the funeralparlor, Dawes said,breathing hard. Weighs aton, don't he?     What killed him? Solsaid.     Heart attack.     The fat man chuckled.     The tableau was grisly. Sollooked away, towards thecomfortingly mundane atmosphereof the barber shop. Buteven the sight of the thick-paddedchairs, the shavingmugs on the wall, the neatrows of cutting instruments,seemed grotesque and morbid.     Listen, Sol said, as theywent through the doorway.About my car—     The Sheriff turned and regardedhim lugubriously.Your      car     ? Young man, ain'tyou got no      respect     ?     Sol swallowed hard and fellsilent. He went outside withthem, the woman slammingthe barber-shop door behindhim. He waited in front ofthe building while the mentoted away the corpse to somenew destination. <doc-sep>For more than a century, robotocists have been trying to build Asimov'sfamous Three Laws of Robotics into a robot brain.       First Law: A robot shall not, either through action or inaction, allowharm to come to a human being.         Second Law: A robot shall obey the orders of a human being, exceptwhen such orders conflict with the First Law     .     [15]       Third Law: A robot shall strive to protect its own existence, exceptwhen this conflicts with the First or Second Law.       Nobody has succeeded yet, because nobody has yet succeeded in definingthe term human being in such a way that the logical mind of a robotcan encompass the concept.     A traffic robot is useful only because the definition has been rigidlynarrowed down. As far as a traffic robot is concerned, human beingsare the automobiles on its highways. Woe betide any poor sap who tries,illegally, to cross a robot-controlled highway on foot. The robot'sonly concern would be with the safety of the automobiles, and if theonly way to avoid destruction of an automobile were to be by nudgingthe pedestrian aside with a fender, that's what would happen.     And, since its orders only come from one place, I suppose that atraffic robot thinks that the guy who uses that typer is an automobile.     With the first six models of the McGuire ships, the robotocistsattempted to build in the Three Laws exactly as stated. And the firstsix went insane.     If one human being says jump left, and another says jump right,the robot is unable to evaluate which human being has given the morevalid order. Feed enough confusing and conflicting data into a robotbrain, and it can begin behaving in ways that, in a human being, wouldbe called paranoia or schizophrenia or catatonia or what-have-you,depending  [16]  on the symptoms. And an insane robot is fully as dangerousas an insane human being controlling the same mechanical equipment, ifnot more so.     So the seventh model had been modified. The present McGuire's brain wasimpressed with slight modifications of the First and Second Laws.     If it is difficult to define a human being, it is much more difficultto define a      responsible     human being. One, in other words, who canbe relied upon to give wise and proper orders to a robot, who can berelied upon not to drive the robot insane.     The robotocists at Viking Spacecraft had decided to take anothertack. Very well, they'd said, if we can't define all the membersof a group, we can certainly define an individual. We'll pick oneresponsible person and build McGuire so that he will take orders onlyfrom that person.     As it turned out, I was that person. Just substitute Daniel Oakfor human being in the First and Second Laws, and you'll see howimportant I was to a certain spaceship named McGuire.  <doc-sep>  He  was tired and verysleepy, and his customarynightly review was limited toa few detached thoughtsabout the wedding he wassupposed to attend in Salinasthat weekend ... the hoodlumwho had responded to hisgood-nature by dumping himout of his own car ... the sloggingwalk to the village ...the little round woman whowas hurrying off, like theWhite Rabbit, to some mysteriousappointment on theupper floor ...     Then he went to sleep.     A voice awoke him, shrilland questioning.     Are you      nakkid     ?     His eyes flew open, and hepulled the towel protectivelyaround his body and glaredat the little girl with the rust-redpigtails.     Huh, mister? she said,pushing a finger against herfreckled nose. Are you?     No, he said angrily. I'mnot naked. Will you pleasego away?     Sally! It was Mom, appearingin the doorway of theparlor. You leave the gentlemanalone. She went offagain.     Yes, Sol said. Please letme get dressed. If you don'tmind. The girl didn't move.What time is it?     Dunno, Sally shrugged.I like poached eggs. They'remy favorite eggs in the wholeworld.     That's good, Sol said desperately.Now why don't yoube a good girl and eat yourpoached eggs. In the kitchen.     Ain't ready yet. You goingto stay for breakfast?     I'm not going to do anythinguntil you get out ofhere.     She put the end of a pigtailin her mouth and sat down onthe chair opposite. I went tothe palace last night. Theyhad an exelution.     Please, Sol groaned. Bea good girl, Sally. If you letme get dressed, I'll show youhow to take your thumb off.     Oh, that's an old trick. Didyou ever see an exelution?     No. Did you ever see a littlegirl with her hidetanned?     Huh?           Sally!      Mom again, sterner.You get out of there, oryou-know-what ...     Okay, the girl saidblithely. I'm goin' to the palaceagain. If I brush myteeth. Aren't you      ever     gonnaget up? She skipped out ofthe room, and Sol hastily satup and reached for histrousers.     When he had dressed, theclothes still damp and unpleasantagainst his skin, hewent out of the parlor andfound the kitchen. Mom wasbusy at the stove. He said:Good morning.     Breakfast in ten minutes,she said cheerfully. You likepoached eggs?     Sure. Do you have a telephone?     In the hallway. Party line,so you may have to wait.     He tried for fifteen minutesto get through, but therewas a woman on the line whowas terribly upset about acotton dress she had orderedfrom Sears, and was tellingthe world about it.     Finally, he got his callthrough to Salinas, and asleepy-voiced Fred, his oldArmy buddy, listened somewhatindifferently to his taleof woe. I might miss thewedding, Sol said unhappily.I'm awfully sorry. Freddidn't seem to be half as sorryas he was. When Sol hungup, he was feeling more despondentthan ever.     A man, tall and rangy, witha bobbing Adam's apple anda lined face, came into thehallway. Hullo? he said inquiringly.You the fella hadthe car stolen?     Yes.     The man scratched his ear.Take you over to SheriffCoogan after breakfast. He'lllet the Stateys know about it.My name's Dawes.     Sol accepted a carefulhandshake.     Don't get many peoplecomin' into town, Dawessaid, looking at him curiously.Ain't seen a stranger inyears. But you look like therest of us. He chuckled.     Mom called out: Breakfast! <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What are the defining traits of Willie Dawes, and who is he in relation to Dream Town?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the fate of Mrs. Brundage in the story ""Dream Town""? [SEP] <s>  At  the table, Dawesasked his destination.     Wedding in Salinas, heexplained. Old Army friendof mine. I picked this hitchhikerup about two miles fromhere. He      seemed     okay.     Never can tell, Dawessaid placidly, munching egg.Hey, Ma. That why youwere so late comin' to courtlast night?     That's right, Pa. Shepoured the blackest coffeeSol had ever seen. Didn'tmiss much, though.     What court is that? Solasked politely, his mouth full.     Umagum, Sally said, apiece of toast sticking outfrom the side of her mouth.Don't you know      nothin'     ?           Arma     gon, Dawes corrected.He looked sheepishly atthe stranger. Don't expectMister— He cocked an eyebrow.What's the name?     Becker.     Don't expect Mr. Beckerknows anything about Armagon.It's just a dream, youknow. He smiled apologetically.     Dream? You mean this—Armagonis a place you dreamabout?     Yep, Dawes said. He liftedcup to lip. Great coffee,Ma. He leaned back with acontented sigh. Dream aboutit every night. Got so used tothe place, I get all confusedin the daytime.     Mom said: I get muddle-headedtoo, sometimes.     You mean— Sol put hisnapkin in his lap. You mean      you     dream about the sameplace?     Sure, Sally piped. Weall go there at night. I'm goin'to the palace again, too.     If you brush your teeth,Mom said primly.     If I brush my teeth. Boy,you shoulda seen the exelution!     Execution, her fathersaid.     Oh, my goodness! Momgot up hastily. That remindsme. I gotta call poor Mrs.Brundage. It's the      least     Icould do.     Good idea, Dawes nodded.And I'll have to roundup some folks and get oldBrundage out of there.     Sol was staring. He openedhis mouth, but couldn't thinkof the right question to ask.Then he blurted out: Whatexecution?     None of      your     business,the man said coldly. You eatup, young man. If you wantme to get Sheriff Cooganlookin' for your car.     The rest of the meal wentsilently, except for Sally's insistenceupon singing herschool song between mouthfuls.When Dawes wasthrough, he pushed back hisplate and ordered Sol to getready.     Sol grabbed his topcoat andfollowed the man out thedoor.     Have to stop someplacefirst, Dawes said. But we'llbe pickin' up the Sheriff onthe way. Okay with you?     Fine, Sol said uneasily.     The rain had stopped, butthe heavy clouds seemed reluctantto leave the skies overthe small town. There was askittish breeze blowing, andSol Becker tightened the collarof his coat around hisneck as he tried to keep upwith the fast-stepping Dawes. <doc-sep>  The  fat man rang thebell. It was a while before ananswer came.     It was a reedy woman in ahousecoat, her hair in curlers,her eyes red and swollen.     Now, now, Dawes saidgently. Don't you take onlike that, Mrs. Brundage. Youheard the charges. It haddabe this way.     My poor Vincent, shesobbed.     Better let us up, theSheriff said kindly. No usejust lettin' him lay there,Mrs. Brundage.     He didn't mean no harm,the woman snuffled. He wasjust purely ornery, Vincentwas. Just plain mean stubborn.     The law's the law, thefat man sighed.     Sol couldn't hold himselfin.     What law? Who's dead?How did it happen?     Dawes looked at him disgustedly.Now is it any of      your     business? I mean, is it?     I don't know, Sol saidmiserably.     You better stay out ofthis, the Sheriff warned.This is a local matter, youngman. You better stay in theshop while we go up.     They filed past him and thecrying Mrs. Brundage.     When they were out ofsight, Sol pleaded with her.     What happened? How didyour husband die?     Please ...     You must tell me! Was itsomething to do with Armagon?Do you dream about theplace, too?     She was shocked at thequestion. Of course!     And your husband? Didhe have the same dream?     Fresh tears resulted. Can'tyou leave me alone? Sheturned her back. I got thingsto do. You can make yourselfcomfortable— She indicatedthe barber chairs, and leftthrough the back door.     Sol looked after her, andthen ambled over to the firstchair and slipped into thehigh seat. His reflection inthe mirror, strangely gray inthe dim light, made himgroan. His clothes were amess, and he needed a shave.If only Brundage had beenalive ...     He leaped out of the chairas voices sounded behind thedoor. Dawes was kicking itopen with his foot, his armsladen with two rather largefeet, still encased in bedroomslippers. Charlie was at theother end of the burden,which appeared to be a middle-agedman in pajamas. TheSheriff followed the trio upwith a sad, undertaker expression.Behind him came Mrs.Brundage, properly weeping.     We'll take him to the funeralparlor, Dawes said,breathing hard. Weighs aton, don't he?     What killed him? Solsaid.     Heart attack.     The fat man chuckled.     The tableau was grisly. Sollooked away, towards thecomfortingly mundane atmosphereof the barber shop. Buteven the sight of the thick-paddedchairs, the shavingmugs on the wall, the neatrows of cutting instruments,seemed grotesque and morbid.     Listen, Sol said, as theywent through the doorway.About my car—     The Sheriff turned and regardedhim lugubriously.Your      car     ? Young man, ain'tyou got no      respect     ?     Sol swallowed hard and fellsilent. He went outside withthem, the woman slammingthe barber-shop door behindhim. He waited in front ofthe building while the mentoted away the corpse to somenew destination. <doc-sep>  They  crossed thestreet diagonally, and entereda two-story wooden building.Dawes took the stairs at abrisk pace, and pushed openthe door on the second floor.A fat man looked up frombehind a desk.     Hi, Charlie. Thought I'dsee if you wanted to helpmove Brundage.     The man batted his eyes.Oh, Brundage! he said.You know, I clean forgotabout him? He laughed.Imagine me forgettingthat?     Yeah. Dawes wasn'tamused. And you Prince Regent.     Aw, Willie—     Well, come on. Stir thatfat carcass. Gotta pick upSheriff Coogan, too. Thishere gentleman has to see himabout somethin' else.     The man regarded Sol suspiciously.Never seen youbefore. Night      or     day. Stranger?     Come      on     ! Dawes said.     The fat man grunted andhoisted himself out of theswivel chair. He followedlamely behind the two menas they went out into thestreet again.     A woman, with an emptymarket basket, nodded casuallyto them. Mornin', folks.Enjoyed it last night.Thought you made a rightnice speech, Mr. Dawes.     Thanks, Dawes answeredgruffly, but obviously flattered.We were just goin'over to Brundage's to pick upthe body. Ma's gonna pay acall on Mrs. Brundage aroundten o'clock. You care to visit?     Why, I think that's verynice, the woman said. I'llbe sure and do that. Shesmiled at the fat man. Mornin',Prince.     Sol's head was spinning. Asthey left the woman and continuedtheir determinedmarch down the quiet street,he tried to find answers.     Look, Mr. Dawes. He waspanting; the pace was fast.Does      she     dream about this—Armagon,too? That womanback there?     Yep.     Charlie chuckled. He's astranger, all right.     And you, Mr.— Solturned to the fat man. Youalso know about this palaceand everything?     I told you, Dawes saidtestily. Charlie here's PrinceRegent. But don't let the fancytitle fool you. He got nomore power than any Knightof the Realm. He's just toodern fat to do much more'nsit on a throne and eat grapes.That right, Charlie?     The fat man giggled.     Here's the Sheriff, Dawessaid.     The Sheriff, a sleepy-eyedcitizen with a long, sad face,was rocking on a porch asthey approached his house,trying to puff a half-lit pipe.He lifted one hand wearilywhen he saw them.     Hi, Cookie, Dawesgrinned. Thought you, me,and Charlie would get Brundage'sbody outa the house.This here's Mr. Becker; hegot another problem. Mr.Becker, meet Cookie Coogan.     The Sheriff joined the procession,pausing only once toinquire into Sol's predicament.     He described the hitchhikerincident, but Cooganlistened stoically. He murmuredsomething about theTroopers, and shuffled alongsidethe puffing fat man.     Sol soon realized that theirdestination was a barber shop.     Dawes cupped his handsover the plate glass andpeered inside. Gold letters onthe glass advertised: HAIRCUTSHAVE & MASSAGEPARLOR. He reported: Nobodyin the shop. Must beupstairs. <doc-sep>  Mr. Dawes  came home anhour later, looking tired.Mom pecked him lightly onthe forehead. He glanced atthe evening paper, and thenspoke to Sol.     Hear you been askingquestions, Mr. Becker.     Sol nodded, embarrassed.Guess I have. I'm awfullycurious about this Armagonplace. Never heard of anythinglike it before.     Dawes grunted. You ain'ta reporter?     Oh, no. I'm an engineer. Iwas just satisfying my owncuriosity.     Uh-huh. Dawes lookedreflective. You wouldn't bethinkin' about writing us upor anything. I mean, this is apretty private affair.     Writing it up? Solblinked. I hadn't thought ofit. But you'll have to admit—it'ssure interesting.     Yeah, Dawes said narrowly.I guess it would be.     Supper! Mom called.     After the meal, they spenta quiet evening at home. Sallywent to bed, screaming herreluctance, at eight-thirty.Mom, dozing in the big chairnear the fireplace, padded upstairsat nine. Then Dawesyawned widely, stood up, andsaid goodnight at quarter-of-ten.     He paused in the doorwaybefore leaving.     I'd think about that, hesaid. Writing it up, I mean.A lot of folks would thinkyou were just plum crazy.     Sol laughed feebly. Iguess they would at that.     Goodnight, Dawes said.     Goodnight.     He read Sally's copy of      Treasure Island     for abouthalf an hour. Then he undressed,made himself comfortableon the sofa, snuggledunder the soft blanketthat Mom had provided, andshut his eyes.     He reviewed the events ofthe day before dropping offto sleep. The troublesomeSally. The strange dreamworld of Armagon. The visitto the barber shop. The removalof Brundage's body.The conversations with thetownspeople. Dawes' suspiciousattitude ...     Then sleep came. <doc-sep>At the end of the corridor, Kane stopped before a blank wall. The sweaton his face glistened dully; his chest rose and fell rapidly. Kane wasa pilot and one of the prerequisites for the job of guiding tons ofmetal between Earth and the Moon was a good set of nerves. Kane excitedeasily, his temper was fiery, but his nerves were like steel.     The end of the line, he grunted.     As though to disprove the statement, a door on his right side openedsoundlessly.     He went through the doorway as if shoved violently by an invisible hand.     The door closed behind him.     Marie threw herself at the door and beat at the metal. Harry!     Verana rushed to her side. Another door on the opposite side of thecorridor opened silently. The door was behind them; they didn't notice.     Before I could warn them, Marie floated across the corridor, throughthe doorway.     Verana and I stared at the darkness beyond the opening, our musclesfrozen by shock.     The door closed behind Marie's screaming, struggling form.     Verana's face was white with fear. Apprehensively, she glanced at theother doors that lined the hall.     I put my arms around her, held her close.     Antigravity machines, force rays, I suggested worriedly.     For several minutes, we remained motionless and silent. I recalled thepreceding events of the day, searched for a sense of normality in them.The Kanes, Miller, Verana and I lived in Lunar City with hundreds ofother people. Mankind had inhabited the Moon for over a year. Meansof recreation were scarce. Many people explored the place to amusethemselves. After supper, we had decided to take a walk. As simple asthat: a walk on the Moon.     We had expected only the familiar craters, chasms and weird rockformations. A twist of fate and here we were: imprisoned in an alienship.     My legs quivered with fatigue, my heart throbbed heavily, Verana'sperfume dizzied me. No, it wasn't a dream. Despite our incrediblesituation, there was no sensation of unreality.  <doc-sep>Sacramento, Calif.     July 25     Dear Joe:     All is lost unless we work swiftly. I received your revealing letterthe morning after having a terrible experience of my own. I drank alot of gin for two days and then decided to go to one of these seancethings.     Somewhere along the way I picked up a red-headed girl. When we gotto the darkened seance room, I took the redhead into a corner andcontinued my investigations into the realm of love. I failed againbecause she said yes immediately.     The nerves of my dermis were working overtime when suddenly I had themost frightening experience of my life. Now I know what a horror thesepeople really are to our world.     The medium had turned out all the lights. He said there was a strongpsychic influence in the room somewhere. That was me, of course, but Iwas too busy with the redhead to notice.     Anyway, Mrs. Somebody wanted to make contact with her paternalgrandmother, Lucy, from the beyond. The medium went into his act. Heconcentrated and sweated and suddenly something began to take form inthe room. The best way to describe it in not-world language is a white,shapeless cascade of light.     Mrs. Somebody reared to her feet and screeched, Grandma Lucy! Then Ireally took notice.     Grandma Lucy, nothing! This medium had actually brought Blgfturypartially across the vibration barrier. He must have been vibrating inthe fringe area and got caught in the works. Did he look mad! His zyhkuwas open and his btgrimms were down.     Worst of all, he saw me. Looked right at me with an unbelievablepattern of pain, anger, fear and amazement in his matrix. Me and theredhead.     Then comes your letter today telling of the fate that befell you as aresult of drinking alcohol. Our wrenchingly attuned faculties in thesenot-world bodies need the loathsome drug to escape from the realityof not-reality. It's true. I cannot do without it now. The day is onlyhalf over and I have consumed a quart and a half. And it is dulling allmy powers as it has practically obliterated yours. I can't even becomeinvisible any more.     I must find the formula that will wipe out the not-world men quickly.     Quickly!     Glmpauszn  <doc-sep>I've never seen any harm in Bram, said Jess. But you know how thistown is about foreigners, especially when they're a mite addled. Bramhas blue eyes and blond hair—or did before it turned white—and hetalks just like everybody else. From a distance he seems just like anordinary American. But up close, you feel it. He's foreign, all right.But we never did know where he came from.     How long's he lived here in Elsby?     Beats me, Jimmy. You remember old Aunt Tress, used to know all aboutancestors and such as that? She couldn't remember about Mr. Bram. Shewas kind of senile, I guess. She used to say he'd lived in that sameold place out on the Concord road when she was a girl. Well, she diedfive years ago ... in her seventies. He still walks in town everyWednesday ... or he did up till yesterday anyway.     Oh? Tremaine stubbed out his cigarette, lit another. What happenedthen?     You remember Soup Gaskin? He's got a boy, name of Hull. He's Soup allover again.     I remember Soup, Tremaine said. He and his bunch used to come inthe drug store where I worked and perch on the stools and kid aroundwith me, and Mr. Hempleman would watch them from over back of theprescription counter and look nervous. They used to raise cain in theother drug store....     Soup's been in the pen since then. His boy Hull's the same kind. Himand a bunch of his pals went out to Bram's place one night and set iton fire.     What was the idea of that?     Dunno. Just meanness, I reckon. Not much damage done. A car waspassing by and called it in. I had the whole caboodle locked up herefor six hours. Then the sob sisters went to work: poor little tykeroutine, high spirits, you know the line. All of 'em but Hull are backin the streets playin' with matches by now. I'm waiting for the daythey'll make jail age.     Why Bram? Tremaine persisted. As far as I know, he never had anydealings to speak of with anybody here in town.     Oh hoh, you're a little young, Jimmy, Jess chuckled. You never knewabout Mr. Bram—the young Mr. Bram—and Linda Carroll.     Tremaine shook his head.     Old Miss Carroll. School teacher here for years; guess she was retiredby the time you were playing hookey. But her dad had money, and inher day she was a beauty. Too good for the fellers in these parts. Iremember her ridin by in a high-wheeled shay, when I was just a nipper.Sitting up proud and tall, with that red hair piled up high. I used tothink she was some kind of princess....     What about her and Bram? A romance?  <doc-sep>At the station Jess led Tremaine to a cell where a lanky teen-age boylounged on a steel-framed cot, blinking up at the visitor under a mopof greased hair.     Hull, this is Mr. Tremaine, said Jess. He took out a heavy key, swungthe cell door open. He wants to talk to you.     I ain't done nothin, Hull said sullenly. There ain't nothin wrongwith burnin out a Commie, is there?     Bram's a Commie, is he? Tremaine said softly. How'd you find thatout, Hull?     He's a foreigner, ain't he? the youth shot back. Besides, weheard....     What did you hear?     They're lookin for the spies.     Who's looking for spies?     Cops.     Who says so?     The boy looked directly at Tremaine for an instant, flicked his eyes tothe corner of the cell. Cops was talkin about 'em, he said.     Spill it, Hull, the policeman said. Mr. Tremaine hasn't got allnight.     They parked out east of town, on 302, back of the woodlot. They calledme over and asked me a bunch of questions. Said I could help 'em getthem spies. Wanted to know all about any funny-actin people aroundhers.     And you mentioned Bram?     The boy darted another look at Tremaine. They said they figured thespies was out north of town. Well, Bram's a foreigner, and he's outthat way, ain't he?     Anything else?     The boy looked at his feet.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the fate of Mrs. Brundage in the story ""Dream Town""?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What are the defining traits of Mom? [SEP] <s>For more than a century, robotocists have been trying to build Asimov'sfamous Three Laws of Robotics into a robot brain.       First Law: A robot shall not, either through action or inaction, allowharm to come to a human being.         Second Law: A robot shall obey the orders of a human being, exceptwhen such orders conflict with the First Law     .     [15]       Third Law: A robot shall strive to protect its own existence, exceptwhen this conflicts with the First or Second Law.       Nobody has succeeded yet, because nobody has yet succeeded in definingthe term human being in such a way that the logical mind of a robotcan encompass the concept.     A traffic robot is useful only because the definition has been rigidlynarrowed down. As far as a traffic robot is concerned, human beingsare the automobiles on its highways. Woe betide any poor sap who tries,illegally, to cross a robot-controlled highway on foot. The robot'sonly concern would be with the safety of the automobiles, and if theonly way to avoid destruction of an automobile were to be by nudgingthe pedestrian aside with a fender, that's what would happen.     And, since its orders only come from one place, I suppose that atraffic robot thinks that the guy who uses that typer is an automobile.     With the first six models of the McGuire ships, the robotocistsattempted to build in the Three Laws exactly as stated. And the firstsix went insane.     If one human being says jump left, and another says jump right,the robot is unable to evaluate which human being has given the morevalid order. Feed enough confusing and conflicting data into a robotbrain, and it can begin behaving in ways that, in a human being, wouldbe called paranoia or schizophrenia or catatonia or what-have-you,depending  [16]  on the symptoms. And an insane robot is fully as dangerousas an insane human being controlling the same mechanical equipment, ifnot more so.     So the seventh model had been modified. The present McGuire's brain wasimpressed with slight modifications of the First and Second Laws.     If it is difficult to define a human being, it is much more difficultto define a      responsible     human being. One, in other words, who canbe relied upon to give wise and proper orders to a robot, who can berelied upon not to drive the robot insane.     The robotocists at Viking Spacecraft had decided to take anothertack. Very well, they'd said, if we can't define all the membersof a group, we can certainly define an individual. We'll pick oneresponsible person and build McGuire so that he will take orders onlyfrom that person.     As it turned out, I was that person. Just substitute Daniel Oakfor human being in the First and Second Laws, and you'll see howimportant I was to a certain spaceship named McGuire.  <doc-sep>  Mr. Dawes  came home anhour later, looking tired.Mom pecked him lightly onthe forehead. He glanced atthe evening paper, and thenspoke to Sol.     Hear you been askingquestions, Mr. Becker.     Sol nodded, embarrassed.Guess I have. I'm awfullycurious about this Armagonplace. Never heard of anythinglike it before.     Dawes grunted. You ain'ta reporter?     Oh, no. I'm an engineer. Iwas just satisfying my owncuriosity.     Uh-huh. Dawes lookedreflective. You wouldn't bethinkin' about writing us upor anything. I mean, this is apretty private affair.     Writing it up? Solblinked. I hadn't thought ofit. But you'll have to admit—it'ssure interesting.     Yeah, Dawes said narrowly.I guess it would be.     Supper! Mom called.     After the meal, they spenta quiet evening at home. Sallywent to bed, screaming herreluctance, at eight-thirty.Mom, dozing in the big chairnear the fireplace, padded upstairsat nine. Then Dawesyawned widely, stood up, andsaid goodnight at quarter-of-ten.     He paused in the doorwaybefore leaving.     I'd think about that, hesaid. Writing it up, I mean.A lot of folks would thinkyou were just plum crazy.     Sol laughed feebly. Iguess they would at that.     Goodnight, Dawes said.     Goodnight.     He read Sally's copy of      Treasure Island     for abouthalf an hour. Then he undressed,made himself comfortableon the sofa, snuggledunder the soft blanketthat Mom had provided, andshut his eyes.     He reviewed the events ofthe day before dropping offto sleep. The troublesomeSally. The strange dreamworld of Armagon. The visitto the barber shop. The removalof Brundage's body.The conversations with thetownspeople. Dawes' suspiciousattitude ...     Then sleep came. <doc-sep>He nodded. He'd heard about the sea-bottom mining cities that werebubbling under protective domes in every one of the Earth's oceans justabout the same time settlements were springing up on the planets.     He looked impressed when I told him about Mom and Pop being one of thefirst couples to get married in Undersea. He looked thoughtful when Itold him how Sis and I had been born there and spent half our childhoodlistening to the pressure pumps. He raised his eyebrows and lookeddisgusted when I told how Mom, as Undersea representative on the WorldCouncil, had been one of the framers of the Male Desuffrage Act afterthe Third Atomic War had resulted in the Maternal Revolution.  <doc-sep>III     Oh, yes, and Jamieson had a feeble paper on what he calledindividualization in marine worms. Barr, have you ever thought muchabout the larger aspects of the problem of individuality?     Jack jumped slightly. He had let his thoughts wander very far.     Not especially, sir, he mumbled.     The house was still. A few minutes after the professor's arrival,Mrs. Kesserich had gone off with an anxious glance at Jack. He knewwhy and wished he could reassure her that he would not mention theirconversation to the professor.     Kesserich had spent perhaps a half hour briefing him on the moreimportant papers delivered at the conferences. Then, almost as ifit were a teacher's trick to show up a pupil's inattention, he hadsuddenly posed this question about individuality.     You know what I mean, of course, Kesserich pressed. The factors thatmake you you, and me me.     Heredity and environment, Jack parroted like a freshman.     Kesserich nodded. Suppose—this is just speculation—that we couldcontrol heredity and environment. Then we could re-create the sameindividual at will.     Jack felt a shiver go through him. To get exactly the same pattern ofhereditary traits. That'd be far beyond us.     What about identical twins? Kesserich pointed out. And then there'sparthenogenesis to be considered. One might produce a duplicate of themother without the intervention of the male. Although his voice hadgrown more idly speculative, Kesserich seemed to Jack to be smilingsecretly. There are many examples in the lower animal forms, to saynothing of the technique by which Loeb caused a sea urchin to reproducewith no more stimulus than a salt solution.     Jack felt the hair rising on his neck. Even then you wouldn't getexactly the same pattern of hereditary traits.     Not if the parent were of very pure stock? Not if there were somespecial technique for selecting ova that would reproduce all themother's traits?     But environment would change things, Jack objected. The duplicatewould be bound to develop differently.     Is environment so important? Newman tells about a pair of identicaltwins separated from birth, unaware of each other's existence. They metby accident when they were twenty-one. Each was a telephone repairman.Each had a wife the same age. Each had a baby son. And each had a foxterrier called 'Trixie.' That's without trying to make environmentssimilar. But suppose you did try. Suppose you saw to it that each ofthem had exactly the same experiences at the same times....     For a moment it seemed to Jack that the room was dimming and wavering,becoming a dark pool in which the only motionless thing was Kesserich'ssphinx-like face.     Well, we've escaped quite far enough from Jamieson's marine worms,the biologist said, all brisk again. He said it as if Jack were theone who had led the conversation down wild and unprofitable channels.Let's get on to your project. I want to talk it over now, because Iwon't have any time for it tomorrow.     Jack looked at him blankly.     Tomorrow I must attend to a very important matter, the biologistexplained.  <doc-sep>  At  five-thirty, he returnedto the Dawes house, and waspromptly leaped upon bylittle Sally.     Hi! Hi! Hi! she said,clutching his right leg andalmost toppling him over.We had a party in school. Ihad chocolate cake. You goin'to stay with us?     Just another night, Soltold her, trying to shake thegirl off. If it's okay withyour folks. They haven'tfound my car yet.     Sally! Mom was peeringout of the screen door. Youlet Mr. Becker alone and gowash. Your Pa will be homesoon.     Oh, pooh, the girl said,her pigtails swinging. Doyou got a girlfriend, mister?     No. Sol struggled towardsthe house with herdead weight on his leg.Would you mind? I can'twalk.     Would you be my boyfriend?     Well, we'll talk about it.If you let go my leg.     Inside the house, she said:We're having pot roast. Youstayin'?     Of course Mr. Becker'sstayin', Mom said. He's ourguest.     That's very kind of you,Sol said. I really wish you'dlet me pay something—     Don't want to hear anotherword about pay. <doc-sep>  He  was tired and verysleepy, and his customarynightly review was limited toa few detached thoughtsabout the wedding he wassupposed to attend in Salinasthat weekend ... the hoodlumwho had responded to hisgood-nature by dumping himout of his own car ... the sloggingwalk to the village ...the little round woman whowas hurrying off, like theWhite Rabbit, to some mysteriousappointment on theupper floor ...     Then he went to sleep.     A voice awoke him, shrilland questioning.     Are you      nakkid     ?     His eyes flew open, and hepulled the towel protectivelyaround his body and glaredat the little girl with the rust-redpigtails.     Huh, mister? she said,pushing a finger against herfreckled nose. Are you?     No, he said angrily. I'mnot naked. Will you pleasego away?     Sally! It was Mom, appearingin the doorway of theparlor. You leave the gentlemanalone. She went offagain.     Yes, Sol said. Please letme get dressed. If you don'tmind. The girl didn't move.What time is it?     Dunno, Sally shrugged.I like poached eggs. They'remy favorite eggs in the wholeworld.     That's good, Sol said desperately.Now why don't yoube a good girl and eat yourpoached eggs. In the kitchen.     Ain't ready yet. You goingto stay for breakfast?     I'm not going to do anythinguntil you get out ofhere.     She put the end of a pigtailin her mouth and sat down onthe chair opposite. I went tothe palace last night. Theyhad an exelution.     Please, Sol groaned. Bea good girl, Sally. If you letme get dressed, I'll show youhow to take your thumb off.     Oh, that's an old trick. Didyou ever see an exelution?     No. Did you ever see a littlegirl with her hidetanned?     Huh?           Sally!      Mom again, sterner.You get out of there, oryou-know-what ...     Okay, the girl saidblithely. I'm goin' to the palaceagain. If I brush myteeth. Aren't you      ever     gonnaget up? She skipped out ofthe room, and Sol hastily satup and reached for histrousers.     When he had dressed, theclothes still damp and unpleasantagainst his skin, hewent out of the parlor andfound the kitchen. Mom wasbusy at the stove. He said:Good morning.     Breakfast in ten minutes,she said cheerfully. You likepoached eggs?     Sure. Do you have a telephone?     In the hallway. Party line,so you may have to wait.     He tried for fifteen minutesto get through, but therewas a woman on the line whowas terribly upset about acotton dress she had orderedfrom Sears, and was tellingthe world about it.     Finally, he got his callthrough to Salinas, and asleepy-voiced Fred, his oldArmy buddy, listened somewhatindifferently to his taleof woe. I might miss thewedding, Sol said unhappily.I'm awfully sorry. Freddidn't seem to be half as sorryas he was. When Sol hungup, he was feeling more despondentthan ever.     A man, tall and rangy, witha bobbing Adam's apple anda lined face, came into thehallway. Hullo? he said inquiringly.You the fella hadthe car stolen?     Yes.     The man scratched his ear.Take you over to SheriffCoogan after breakfast. He'lllet the Stateys know about it.My name's Dawes.     Sol accepted a carefulhandshake.     Don't get many peoplecomin' into town, Dawessaid, looking at him curiously.Ain't seen a stranger inyears. But you look like therest of us. He chuckled.     Mom called out: Breakfast! <doc-sep>  At  the table, Dawesasked his destination.     Wedding in Salinas, heexplained. Old Army friendof mine. I picked this hitchhikerup about two miles fromhere. He      seemed     okay.     Never can tell, Dawessaid placidly, munching egg.Hey, Ma. That why youwere so late comin' to courtlast night?     That's right, Pa. Shepoured the blackest coffeeSol had ever seen. Didn'tmiss much, though.     What court is that? Solasked politely, his mouth full.     Umagum, Sally said, apiece of toast sticking outfrom the side of her mouth.Don't you know      nothin'     ?           Arma     gon, Dawes corrected.He looked sheepishly atthe stranger. Don't expectMister— He cocked an eyebrow.What's the name?     Becker.     Don't expect Mr. Beckerknows anything about Armagon.It's just a dream, youknow. He smiled apologetically.     Dream? You mean this—Armagonis a place you dreamabout?     Yep, Dawes said. He liftedcup to lip. Great coffee,Ma. He leaned back with acontented sigh. Dream aboutit every night. Got so used tothe place, I get all confusedin the daytime.     Mom said: I get muddle-headedtoo, sometimes.     You mean— Sol put hisnapkin in his lap. You mean      you     dream about the sameplace?     Sure, Sally piped. Weall go there at night. I'm goin'to the palace again, too.     If you brush your teeth,Mom said primly.     If I brush my teeth. Boy,you shoulda seen the exelution!     Execution, her fathersaid.     Oh, my goodness! Momgot up hastily. That remindsme. I gotta call poor Mrs.Brundage. It's the      least     Icould do.     Good idea, Dawes nodded.And I'll have to roundup some folks and get oldBrundage out of there.     Sol was staring. He openedhis mouth, but couldn't thinkof the right question to ask.Then he blurted out: Whatexecution?     None of      your     business,the man said coldly. You eatup, young man. If you wantme to get Sheriff Cooganlookin' for your car.     The rest of the meal wentsilently, except for Sally's insistenceupon singing herschool song between mouthfuls.When Dawes wasthrough, he pushed back hisplate and ordered Sol to getready.     Sol grabbed his topcoat andfollowed the man out thedoor.     Have to stop someplacefirst, Dawes said. But we'llbe pickin' up the Sheriff onthe way. Okay with you?     Fine, Sol said uneasily.     The rain had stopped, butthe heavy clouds seemed reluctantto leave the skies overthe small town. There was askittish breeze blowing, andSol Becker tightened the collarof his coat around hisneck as he tried to keep upwith the fast-stepping Dawes. <doc-sep>  He  took a walk.     The town was just comingto life. People were strollingout of their houses, commentingon the weather, chucklingamiably about local affairs.Kids on bicycles were beginningto appear, jangling thelittle bells and hooting toeach other. A woman, hangingwash in the back yard,called out to him, thinkinghe was somebody else.     He found a little park, nomore than twenty yards incircumference, centeredaround a weatherbeaten monumentof some unrecognizablemilitary figure. Threeold men took their places onthe bench that circled theGeneral, and leaned on theircanes.     Sol was a civil engineer.But he made like a reporter.     Pardon me, sir. The oldman, leathery-faced, with afine yellow moustache, lookedat him dumbly. Have youever heard of Armagon?     You a stranger?     Yes.     Thought so.     Sol repeated the question.     Course I did. Been goin'there ever since I was a kid.Night-times, that is.     How—I mean, what kindof place is it?     Said you're a stranger?     Yes.     Then 'tain't your business.     That was that.     He left the park, and wanderedinto a thriving luncheonette.He tried questioningthe man behind the counter,who merely snickered andsaid: You stayin' with theDawes, ain't you? Better askWillie, then. He knows theplace better than anybody.     He asked about the execution,and the man stiffened.     Don't think I can talkabout that. Fella broke one ofthe Laws; that's about it.Don't see where you comeinto it.     At eleven o'clock, he returnedto the Dawes residence,and found Mom in thekitchen, surrounded by thewarm nostalgic odor of home-bakedbread. She told himthat her husband had left amessage for the stranger, informinghim that the StatePolice would be around to gethis story.     He waited in the house,gloomily turning the pages ofthe local newspaper, searchingfor references to Armagon.He found nothing.     At eleven-thirty, a brown-facedState Trooper came tocall, and Sol told his story.He was promised nothing,and told to stay in town untilhe was contacted again bythe authorities.     Mom fixed him a lightlunch, the greatest feature ofwhich was some hot biscuitsshe plucked out of the oven.It made him feel almost normal.     He wandered around thetown some more after lunch,trying to spark conversationwith the residents.     He learned little. <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What are the defining traits of Mom?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the importance of the dream that the residents of the town had? [SEP] <s>  He  took a walk.     The town was just comingto life. People were strollingout of their houses, commentingon the weather, chucklingamiably about local affairs.Kids on bicycles were beginningto appear, jangling thelittle bells and hooting toeach other. A woman, hangingwash in the back yard,called out to him, thinkinghe was somebody else.     He found a little park, nomore than twenty yards incircumference, centeredaround a weatherbeaten monumentof some unrecognizablemilitary figure. Threeold men took their places onthe bench that circled theGeneral, and leaned on theircanes.     Sol was a civil engineer.But he made like a reporter.     Pardon me, sir. The oldman, leathery-faced, with afine yellow moustache, lookedat him dumbly. Have youever heard of Armagon?     You a stranger?     Yes.     Thought so.     Sol repeated the question.     Course I did. Been goin'there ever since I was a kid.Night-times, that is.     How—I mean, what kindof place is it?     Said you're a stranger?     Yes.     Then 'tain't your business.     That was that.     He left the park, and wanderedinto a thriving luncheonette.He tried questioningthe man behind the counter,who merely snickered andsaid: You stayin' with theDawes, ain't you? Better askWillie, then. He knows theplace better than anybody.     He asked about the execution,and the man stiffened.     Don't think I can talkabout that. Fella broke one ofthe Laws; that's about it.Don't see where you comeinto it.     At eleven o'clock, he returnedto the Dawes residence,and found Mom in thekitchen, surrounded by thewarm nostalgic odor of home-bakedbread. She told himthat her husband had left amessage for the stranger, informinghim that the StatePolice would be around to gethis story.     He waited in the house,gloomily turning the pages ofthe local newspaper, searchingfor references to Armagon.He found nothing.     At eleven-thirty, a brown-facedState Trooper came tocall, and Sol told his story.He was promised nothing,and told to stay in town untilhe was contacted again bythe authorities.     Mom fixed him a lightlunch, the greatest feature ofwhich was some hot biscuitsshe plucked out of the oven.It made him feel almost normal.     He wandered around thetown some more after lunch,trying to spark conversationwith the residents.     He learned little. <doc-sep>Untrimmed sumacs threw late-afternoon shadows on the discolored stuccofacade of the Elsby Public Library. Inside, Tremaine followed apaper-dry woman of indeterminate age to a rack of yellowed newsprint.     You'll find back to nineteen-forty here, the librarian said. Theolder are there in the shelves.     I want nineteen-oh-one, if they go back that far.     The woman darted a suspicious look at Tremaine. You have to handlethese old papers carefully.     I'll be extremely careful. The woman sniffed, opened a drawer, leafedthrough it, muttering.     What date was it you wanted?     Nineteen-oh-one; the week of May nineteenth.     The librarian pulled out a folded paper, placed it on the table,adjusted her glasses, squinted at the front page. That's it, shesaid. These papers keep pretty well, provided they're stored in thedark. But they're still flimsy, mind you.     I'll remember. The woman stood by as Tremaine looked over the frontpage. The lead article concerned the opening of the Pan-AmericanExposition at Buffalo. Vice-President Roosevelt had made a speech.Tremaine leafed over, reading slowly.     On page four, under a column headed      County Notes     he saw the name Bram:     Mr. Bram has purchased a quarter section of fine grazing land,north of town, together with a sturdy house, from J. P. Spivey ofElsby. Mr. Bram will occupy the home and will continue to graze afew head of stock. Mr. Bram, who is a newcomer to the county, hasbeen a resident of Mrs. Stoate's Guest Home in Elsby for the pastmonths.     May I see some earlier issues; from about the first of the year?     The librarian produced the papers. Tremaine turned the pages, read theheads, skimmed an article here and there. The librarian went back toher desk. An hour later, in the issue for July 7, 1900, an item caughthis eye:     A Severe Thunderstorm. Citizens of Elsby and the country were muchalarmed by a violent cloudburst, accompanied by lightning andthunder, during the night of the fifth. A fire set in the pinewoods north of Spivey's farm destroyed a considerable amount oftimber and threatened the house before burning itself out alongthe river.     The librarian was at Tremaine's side. I have to close the library now.You'll have to come back tomorrow.     Outside, the sky was sallow in the west: lights were coming on inwindows along the side streets. Tremaine turned up his collar against acold wind that had risen, started along the street toward the hotel.     A block away a black late-model sedan rounded a corner with a faintsqueal of tires and gunned past him, a heavy antenna mounted forwardof the left rear tail fin whipping in the slipstream. Tremaine stoppedshort, stared after the car.     Damn! he said aloud. An elderly man veered, eyeing him sharply.Tremaine set off at a run, covered the two blocks to the hotel, yankedopen the door to his car, slid into the seat, made a U-turn, and headednorth after the police car.  <doc-sep>His entire body trembled. His mind trembled too. He walked, and came toa waist-high metal railing, and made a tiny sound deep in his throat.He looked out over water, endless water rolling in endless waves underthe night sky. Crashing water, topped with reflected silver from themoon. Pounding water, filling the air with spray.     He put out his hands and grasped the railing. It was wet. He raiseddamp fingers to his mouth. Salt.     He stepped back, back, and turned and ran. He ran wildly, blindly,until he could run no more. Then he fell, feeling the sand beneath him,and shut his eyes and mind to everything.     Much later, he got up and went to the fence and climbed it. He camedown on the other side and looked around and saw Plum. He walked toher, mounted her, sat still. The thoughts, or dreams, or whatever theywere which had been torturing him these past few weeks began torturinghim again.     It was getting light. His head was splitting.     Davie. His son Davie. Fourteen years old. Going to high school intown....       Town!     He should've gone there in the first place! He would ride east,to the road, then head south, back toward home. That would bring himright down Main Street. Regulations or not, he'd talk to people, findout what was happening.     He kicked Plum's sides. The mare began to move. He kept kicking untilshe broke into a brisk canter. He held on with hands and legs.     Why hadn't he seen the Pangborns and Elvertons lately—a long timelately?       The ocean. He'd seen the ocean. Not a reservoir or lake made byflooding and by damming, but salt water and enormous. An ocean, wherethere could be no ocean. The Pangborns and Elvertons had been wherethat ocean was now. And after the Elvertons had come the Dobsons.And after them the new plastics plant. And after that the city ofCrossville. And after that....       He was passing his own farm. He hadn't come through town, and yet herehe was at his own farm. Could he have forgotten where town was? Couldit be north of his home, not south? Could a man get so confused as toforget things he'd known all his life?     He reached the Shanks' place, and passed it at a trot. Then he wasbeyond their boundaries and breaking regulations again. He stayed onthe road. He went by a small house and saw colored folks in the yard.There'd been no colored folks here. There'd been Eli Bergen and hisfamily and his mother, in a bigger, newer house. The colored folksheard Plum's hooves and looked up and stared. Then a man raised hisvoice. Mistah, you breakin' regulations! Mistah, the police gonnah getyou!  <doc-sep>Sorry, the Vinzz said impersonally, in English that was perfectexcept for the slight dampening of the sibilants, but I'm afraid youcannot play.     Why not? The emaciated young man began to put on his clothes.     You know why. Your body is worthless. And this is a reputable house.     But I have plenty of money. The young man coughed. The Vinzzshrugged. I'll pay you twice the regular fee.     The green one shook his head. Regrettably, I do mean what I say. Thisgame is really clean.     In a town like this?     That is the reason we can afford to be honest. The Vinzz' tendrilsquivered in what the man had come to recognize as amusement throughlong, but necessarily superficial acquaintance with the Vinzz. Hisheavy robe of what looked like moss-green velvet, but might have beenvelvet-green moss, encrusted with oddly faceted alien jewels, swungwith him.     We do a lot of business here, he said unnecessarily, for the wholeset-up spelled wealth far beyond the dreams of the man, and he was byno means poor when it came to worldly goods. Why don't you try anothertown where they're not so particular?     The young man smiled wryly. Just his luck to stumble on a sunny game.He never liked to risk following his quarry in the same configuration.And even though only the girl had actually seen him this time, hewouldn't feel at ease until he had made the usual body-shift. Washe changing because of Gabriel, he wondered, or was he using his owndiscoverment and identification simply as an excuse to cover the factthat none of the bodies that fell to his lot ever seemed to fit him?Was he activated solely by revenge or as much by the hope that in thehazards of the game he might, impossible though it now seemed, some daywin another body that approached perfection as nearly as his originalcasing had?     He didn't know. However, there seemed to be no help for it now; hewould have to wait until they reached the next town, unless the girl,seeing him reappear in the same guise, would guess what had happenedand tell her husband. He himself had been a fool to admit to her thatthe hulk he inhabited was a sick one; he still couldn't understandhow he could so casually have entrusted her with so vital a piece ofinformation.  <doc-sep>  At  the table, Dawesasked his destination.     Wedding in Salinas, heexplained. Old Army friendof mine. I picked this hitchhikerup about two miles fromhere. He      seemed     okay.     Never can tell, Dawessaid placidly, munching egg.Hey, Ma. That why youwere so late comin' to courtlast night?     That's right, Pa. Shepoured the blackest coffeeSol had ever seen. Didn'tmiss much, though.     What court is that? Solasked politely, his mouth full.     Umagum, Sally said, apiece of toast sticking outfrom the side of her mouth.Don't you know      nothin'     ?           Arma     gon, Dawes corrected.He looked sheepishly atthe stranger. Don't expectMister— He cocked an eyebrow.What's the name?     Becker.     Don't expect Mr. Beckerknows anything about Armagon.It's just a dream, youknow. He smiled apologetically.     Dream? You mean this—Armagonis a place you dreamabout?     Yep, Dawes said. He liftedcup to lip. Great coffee,Ma. He leaned back with acontented sigh. Dream aboutit every night. Got so used tothe place, I get all confusedin the daytime.     Mom said: I get muddle-headedtoo, sometimes.     You mean— Sol put hisnapkin in his lap. You mean      you     dream about the sameplace?     Sure, Sally piped. Weall go there at night. I'm goin'to the palace again, too.     If you brush your teeth,Mom said primly.     If I brush my teeth. Boy,you shoulda seen the exelution!     Execution, her fathersaid.     Oh, my goodness! Momgot up hastily. That remindsme. I gotta call poor Mrs.Brundage. It's the      least     Icould do.     Good idea, Dawes nodded.And I'll have to roundup some folks and get oldBrundage out of there.     Sol was staring. He openedhis mouth, but couldn't thinkof the right question to ask.Then he blurted out: Whatexecution?     None of      your     business,the man said coldly. You eatup, young man. If you wantme to get Sheriff Cooganlookin' for your car.     The rest of the meal wentsilently, except for Sally's insistenceupon singing herschool song between mouthfuls.When Dawes wasthrough, he pushed back hisplate and ordered Sol to getready.     Sol grabbed his topcoat andfollowed the man out thedoor.     Have to stop someplacefirst, Dawes said. But we'llbe pickin' up the Sheriff onthe way. Okay with you?     Fine, Sol said uneasily.     The rain had stopped, butthe heavy clouds seemed reluctantto leave the skies overthe small town. There was askittish breeze blowing, andSol Becker tightened the collarof his coat around hisneck as he tried to keep upwith the fast-stepping Dawes. <doc-sep>His voice rose to a meaningless wail that stretched into non-existence.The pen slid across the scribbled face of the notebook and both droppedfrom my numb hands. But I knew. Somehow, inside me,      I knew     that thesewords were what I had been waiting for. They told everything I neededto know to become the most powerful man in the Solar Federation.     That wasn't just an addict's dream. I knew who Doc was. When I gotto thinking it was just a dream and that I was dragging this old manaround North America for nothing, I remembered who he was.     I remembered that he was somebody very important whose name and work Ihad once known, even if now I knew him only as Doc.     Pain was a pendulum within me, swinging from low throbbing bass to highscreaming tenor. I had to get out and get some. But I didn't have anickel. Still, I had to get some.     I crawled to the door and raised myself by the knob, slick with greasydirt. The door opened and shut—there was no lock. I shouldn't leaveDoc alone, but I had to.     He was starting to cry. He didn't always do that.     I listened to him for a moment, then tested and tasted the craving thatcrawled through my veins. I got back inside somehow.     Doc was twisting on the cot, tears washing white streaks across hisface. I shoved Doc's face up against my chest. I held onto him and lethim bellow. I soothed the lanks of soiled white hair back over hislumpy skull.     He shut up at last and I laid him down again and put his arm backacross his face. (You can't turn the light off and on in places likethat. The old wiring will blow the bulb half the time.)     I don't remember how I got out onto the street.  <doc-sep>That afternoon Mickey showed me his room. It was more like a boy'sroom than a spaceman's. In it were all the little things that kidstreasure—pennants, models of Everson's two ships, a tennis trophy,books, a home-made video.     I began to realize how important a room like this could be to a boy.I could imagine, too, the happiness that parents felt as they watchedtheir children grow to adulthood.     I'd missed something. My folks were shadow-people, my impressions ofthem drawn half from ancient photos, half from imagination. For me, ithad been a cold, automatic kind of life, the life of dormitories androutines and rules. I'd been so blinded by the brilliancy of my dreams,I hadn't realized I was different.       My folks were killed in a rocket crash. If it weren't for rockets, I'dhave lived the kind of life a kid should live.       Mickey noticed my frown.     What's the matter, Ben? Still sore? I feel like a heel, but I'm justnot like you and Charlie, I guess. I—     No, I understand, Mickey. I'm not sore, really.     Listen, then. You haven't accepted any offer yet, have you?     No. I got a couple of possibilities. Could get a berth on the      Odyssey     , the new ship being finished at Los Angeles. They want me,too, for the Moon Patrol, but that's old stuff, not much better thanteaching. I want to be in deep space.     Well, how about staying with us till you decide? Might as well enjoyEarth life while you can. Okay?     I felt like running from the house, to forget that it existed. I wantedsomeone to tell me one of the old stories about space, a tale ofcourage that would put fuel on dying dreams.     But I wanted, also, to be with you, Laura, to see your smile and theflecks of silver in your eyes and the way your nose turned upward everso slightly when you laughed. You see, I loved you already, almost asmuch as I loved the stars.     And I said, slowly, my voice sounding unfamiliar and far away, Sure,I'll stay, Mickey. Sure.  <doc-sep>  The CONJURER of VENUS     By CONAN T. TROY       A world-famed Earth scientist had disappeared on Venus.       When Johnson found him, he found too the secret to that       globe-shaking mystery—the fabulous Room of The Dreaming.       [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories November 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The city dripped with rain. Crossing the street toward the dive,Johnson got rain in his eyes, his nose, and his ears. That was the waywith the rain here. It came at you from all directions. There had beenoccasions when Johnson had thought the rain was falling straight up.Otherwise, how had the insides of his pants gotten wet?     On Venus, everything came at you from all directions, it seemed toJohnson. Opening the door of the joint, it was noise instead of rainthat came at him, the wild frantic beat of a Venusian rhumba, thenotes pounding and jumping through the smoke and perfume clouded room.Feeling states came at him, intangible, but to his trained senses,perceptible emotional nuances of hate, love, fear, and rage. But mostlylove. Since this place had been designed to excite the senses of bothhumans and Venusians, the love feelings were heavily tinged withstraight sex. He sniffed at them, feeling them somewhere inside of him,aware of them but aware also that here was apprehension, and plain fear.     Caldwell, sitting in a booth next to the door, glanced up as Johnsonentered but neither Caldwell's facial expression or his eyes revealedthat he had ever seen this human before. Nor did Johnson seem torecognize Caldwell.     Is the mighty human wanting liquor, a woman or dreams? His voicewas all soft syllables of liquid sound. The Venusian equivalent of aheadwaiter was bowing to him.     I'll have a tarmur to start, Johnson said. How are the dreamstonight?     Ze vill be the most wonserful of all sonight. The great Unger hisselfwill be here to do ze dreaming. There is no ozzer one who has quitehis touch at dreaming, mighty one. The headwaiter spread his handsin a gesture indicating ecstasy. It is my great regret that I must doze work tonight instead of being wiz ze dreamers. Ah, ze great Ungerhisself! The headwaiter kissed the tips of his fingers.     Um, Johnson said. The great Unger! His voice expressed surprise,just the right amount of it. I'll have a tarmur to start but when doesthe dreaming commence?     In one zonar or maybe less. Shall I make ze reservations for ze mightyone? As he was speaking, the headwaiter was deftly conducting Johnsonto the bar.     Not just yet, Johnson said. See me a little later.     But certainly. The headwaiter was gone into the throng. Johnson wasat the bar. Behind it, a Venusian was bowing to him. Tarmur, Johnsonsaid. The green drink was set before him. He held it up to the light,admiring the slow rise of the tiny golden bubbles in it. To him,watching the bubbles rise was perhaps more important than drinkingitself.     Beautiful, aren't they? a soft voice said. He glanced to his right.A girl had slid into the stool beside him. She wore a green dress cutvery low at the throat. Her skin had the pleasant tan recently onEarth. Her hair was a shade of abundant brown and her eyes were blue,the color of the skies of Earth. A necklace circled her throat andbelow the necklace ... Johnson felt his pulse quicken, for two reasons.Women such as this one had been quickening the pulse of men since thedays of Adam. The second reason concerned her presence here in thisplace where no woman in her right mind ever came unescorted. Her eyessmiled up at him unafraid. Didn't she know there were men present herein this space port city who would snatch her bodily from the barstool and carry her away for sleeping purposes? And Venusians werehere who would cut her pretty throat for the sake of the necklace thatcircled it?     They      are     beautiful, he said, smiling.     Thank you.     I was referring to the bubbles.     You were talking about my eyes, she answered, unperturbed.     How did you know? I mean....     I am very knowing, the girl said, smiling.     Are you sufficiently knowing to be here?     For an instant, as if doubt crossed her mind, the smile flickered. Thenit came again, stronger. Aren't you here?     Johnson choked as bubbles from the tarmur seemed to go suddenly up hisnose. My dear child ... he sputtered.     I am not a child, she answered with a firm sureness that left nodoubt in his mind that she knew what she was saying. And my name isVee Vee.     Vee Vee? Um. That is....     Don't you think it's a nice name?     I certainly do. Probably the rest of it is even nicer.     There is no more of it. Just Vee Vee. Like Topsy, I just grew.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the importance of the dream that the residents of the town had?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in PRIME DIFFERENCE? [SEP] <s>Practical androids had been a pipe dream until Hunyadi invented theNeuro-pantograph. Hunyadi had no idea in the world what to do with itonce he'd invented it, but a couple of enterprising engineers boughthim body and soul, sub-contracted the problems of anatomy, design,artistry, audio and visio circuitry, and so forth, and ended up withthe modern Ego Primes we have today.     I spent a busy two hours under the NP microprobes; the artists workedoutside while the NP technicians worked inside. I came out of it prettywoozy, but a shot of Happy-O set that straight. Then I waited in therecovery room for another two hours, dreaming up ways to use my Primewhen I got him. Finally the door opened and the head technician walkedin, followed by a tall, sandy-haired man with worried blue eyes and atired look on his face.       Meet George Faircloth Prime, the technician said, grinning at me likea nursing mother.     I shook hands with myself. Good firm handshake, I thought admiringly.Nothing flabby about it.     I slapped George Prime on the shoulder happily. Come on, Brother, Isaid. You've got a job to do.     But, secretly, I was wondering what Jeree was doing that night.     George Prime had remote controls, as well as a completely recordedneurological analogue of his boss, who was me. George Prime thoughtwhat I thought about the same things I did in the same way I did. Theonly difference was that what I told George Prime to do, George Primedid.     If I told him to go to a business conference in San Francisco and makethe smallest possible concessions for the largest possible orders,he would go there and do precisely that. His signature would be mysignature. It would hold up in court.     And if I told him that my wife Marge was really a sweet, good-heartedgirl and that he was to stay home and keep her quiet and happy any timeI chose, he'd do that, too.     George Prime was a duplicate of me right down to the sandy hairs onthe back of my hands. Our fingerprints were the same. We had the samemannerisms and used the same figures of speech. The only physicaldifference apparent even to an expert was the tiny finger-depressionburied in the hair above his ear. A little pressure there would stopGeorge Prime dead in his tracks.     He was so lifelike, even I kept forgetting that he was basically just apile of gears.     I'd planned very carefully how I meant to use him, of course.     Every man who's been married eight years has a sanctuary. He builds itup and maintains it against assault in the very teeth of his wife'snatural instinct to clean, poke, pry and rearrange things. Sometimesit takes him years of diligent work to establish his hideout and beconfident that it will stay inviolate, but if he starts early enough,and sticks with it long enough, and is fierce enough and persistentenough and crafty enough, he'll probably win in the end. The girls hatehim for it, but he'll win.     With some men, it's just a box on their dressers, or a desk, or acorner of an unused back room. But I had set my sights high early inthe game. With me, it was the whole workshop in the garage.  <doc-sep>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>It was completely illegal, of course. The wonder was that Ego Prime,Inc., ever got to put their product on the market at all, once thenation's housewives got wind of just what their product was.     From the first, there was rigid Federal control and laws regulating theuse of Primes right down to the local level. You could get a licensefor a Utility model Prime if you were a big business executive, or ahigh public official, or a movie star, or something like that; but eventhen his circuits had to be inspected every two months, and he had tohave a thousand built-in Paralyzers, and you had to specify in advanceexactly what you wanted your Prime to be able to do when, where, how,why, and under what circumstances.     The law didn't leave a man much leeway.     But everybody knew that if you      really     wanted a personal Prime withall his circuits open and no questions asked, you could get one. Blackmarket prices were steep and you ran your own risk, but it could bedone.     Harry Folsom told his friend who knew a guy, and a few greenbacks gotlost somewhere, and I found myself looking at a greasy little man witha black mustache and a bald spot, up in a dingy fourth-story warehouseoff lower Broadway.     Ah, yes, the little man said. Mr. Faircloth. We've been expectingyou.  <doc-sep>Needless to say, the affairs of George Faircloth took on a new sparklewith George Prime on hand to cover the home front.     For the first week, I was hardly home at all. I must say I felt alittle guilty, leaving poor old George Prime to cope with Marge allthe time—he looked and acted so human, it was easy to forget thathe literally couldn't care less. But I felt apologetic all the samewhenever I took him out of his closet.     She's really a sweet girl underneath it all, I'd say. You'll learnto like her after a bit.     Of course I like her, George Prime said. You told me to, didn't you?Stop worrying. She's really a sweet girl underneath it all.     He sounded convincing enough, but still it bothered me. You're sureyou understand the exchange mechanism? I asked. I didn't want anyfoul-ups there, as you can imagine.     Perfectly, said George Prime. When you buzz the recall, I wait forthe first logical opportunity I can find to come out to the workshop,and you take over.     But you might get nervous. You might inadvertently tip her off.     George Prime looked pained. Really, old man! I'm a Super Deluxe model,remember? I don't have fourteen activated Hunyadi tubes up in thiscranial vault of mine just for nothing. You're the one that's nervous.I'll take care of everything. Relax.     So I did.     Jeree made good all her tacit promises and then some. She had a verycozy little apartment on 34th Street where we went to relax aftera hard day at the office. When we weren't doing the town, that is.As long as Jeree didn't try too much conversation, everything waswonderful.     And then, when Jeree got a little boring, there was Sybil in theaccounting department. Or Dorothy in promotion. Or Jane. Or Ingrid.     I could go on at some length, but I won't. I was building quite areputation for myself around the office.     Of course, it was like buying your first 3-V set. In a week or so, thenovelty wears off a little and you start eating on schedule again. Ittook a little while, but I finally had things down to a reasonableprogram.     Tuesday and Thursday nights, I was informally out while formallyin. Sometimes I took Sunday nights out if things got too stickyaround the house over the weekend. The rest of the time, George Primecooled his heels in his closet. Locked up, of course. Can't completelytrust a wife to observe a taboo, no matter how well trained she is.     There, was an irreconcilable amount of risk. George Prime had toquick-step some questions about my work at the office—there was noway to supply him with current data until the time for his regulartwo-month refill and pattern-accommodation at the laboratory. In themeantime, George Prime had to make do with what he had.     But as he himself pointed out he was a Super Deluxe model.  <doc-sep>   PRIME DIFFERENCE     By ALAN E. NOURSE     Illustrated by SCHOENHEER     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction June 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Being two men rolled out of one would solve       my problems—but which one would I be?        I suppose that every guy reaches a point once in his lifetime when hegets one hundred and forty per cent fed up with his wife.     Understand now—I've got nothing against marriage or any thinglike that. Marriage is great. It's a good old red-blooded AmericanInstitution. Except that it's got one defect in it big enough to throwa cat through, especially when you happen to be married to a womanlike Marge—     It's so      permanent     .     Oh, I'd have divorced Marge in a minute if we'd been living in theBlissful 'Fifties—but with the Family Solidarity Amendment of 1968,and all the divorce taxes we have these days since the women gottheir teeth into politics, to say nothing of the Aggrieved SpouseCompensation Act, I'd have been a pauper for the rest of my life ifI'd tried it. That's aside from the social repercussions involved.     You can't really blame me for looking for another way out. But a manhas to be desperate to try to buy himself an Ego Prime.     So, all right, I was desperate. I'd spent eight years trying to keepMarge happy, which was exactly seven and a half years too long.     Marge was a dream to look at, with her tawny hair and her sulky eyesand a shape that could set your teeth chattering—but that was wherethe dream stopped.     She had a tongue like a #10 wood rasp and a list of grievances longenough to paper the bedroom wall. When she wasn't complaining, she wascrying, and when she wasn't crying, she was pointing out in chillingdetail exactly where George Faircloth fell short as a model husband,which happened to be everywhere. Half of the time she had a beastlyheadache (for which I was personally responsible) and the other halfshe was sore about something, so ninety-nine per cent of the time wegot along like a couple of tomcats in a packing case.  <doc-sep>I dashed into the workshop and punched the recall button as hard as Icould, swearing under my breath. How long had this been going on? Ipunched the button again, viciously, and waited.     George Prime didn't come out.     It was plenty cold out in the workshop that night and I didn't sleepa wink. About dawn, out came George Prime, looking like a man with afour-day hangover.     Our conversation got down to fundamentals. George Prime kept insistingblandly that, according to my own directions, he was to pick the firstlogical opportunity to come out when I buzzed, and that was exactlywhat he'd done.     I was furious all the way to work. I'd take care of this nonsense, allright. I'd have George Prime rewired from top to bottom as soon as thelaboratory could take him.     But I never phoned the laboratory. The bank was calling me when I gotto the office. They wanted to know what I planned to do about thatcheck of mine that had just bounced.     What check? I asked.     The one you wrote to cash yesterday—five hundred dollars—againstyour regular account, Mr. Faircloth.     The last I'd looked, I'd had about three thousand dollars in thataccount. I told the man so rather bluntly.     Oh, no, sir. That is, you      did     until last week. But all these checksyou've been cashing have emptied the account.     He flashed the checks on the desk screen. My signature was on every oneof them.     What about my special account? I'd learned long before that anaccount Marge didn't know about was sound rear-guard strategy.     That's been closed out for two weeks.     I hadn't written a check against that account for over a year! I glaredat the ceiling and tried to think things through.     I came up with a horrible thought.     Marge had always had her heart set on a trip to Bermuda. Just to getaway from it all, she'd say. A second honeymoon.     I got a list of travel agencies from the business directory and starteddown them. The third one I tried had a pleasant tenor voice. No, sir,not      Mrs.     Faircloth.      You     bought two tickets. One way. Champagneflight to Bermuda.     When? I choked out.     Why, today, as a matter of fact. It leaves Idlewild at eleveno'clock—     I let him worry about my amnesia and started home fast. I didn't knowwhat they'd given that Prime for circuits, but there was no questionnow that he was out of control—      way     out of control. And poor Marge,all worked up for a second honeymoon—     Then it struck me. Poor Marge? Poor sucker George! No Prime in hisright circuits would behave this way without some human guidance andthat meant only one thing: Marge had spotted him. It had happenedbefore. Couple of nasty court battles I'd read about. And she'd knownall about George Prime.       For how long?    <doc-sep>Marge didn't suspect a thing. In fact, George Prime seemed to be havinga remarkable effect on her. I didn't notice anything at first—I washardly ever home. But one night I found my pipe and slippers laid outfor me, and the evening paper neatly folded on my chair, and it broughtme up short. Marge had been extremely docile lately. We hadn't had agood fight in days. Weeks, come to think of it.     I thought it over and shrugged. Old age, I figured. She was bound tomellow sometime.     But pretty soon I began to wonder if she wasn't mellowing a little toomuch.     One night when I got home, she kissed me almost as though she reallymeant it. There wasn't an unpleasant word all through dinner, whichhappened to be steak with mushrooms, served in the dining room (!) bycandlelight (!!) with dinner music that Marge could never bear, chieflybecause I liked it.     We sat over coffee and cigarettes, and it seemed almost like oldtimes.      Very     old times, in fact I even caught myself looking at Margeagain—really      looking     at her, watching the light catch in her hair,almost admiring the sparkle in her brown eyes. Sparkle, I said, notglint.     As I mentioned before, Marge was always easy to look at. That night,she was practically ravishing.     What are you doing to her? I asked George Prime later, out in theworkshop.     Why, nothing, said George Prime, looking innocent. He couldn't foolme with his look, though, because it was exactly the look I use whenI'm guilty and pretending to be innocent.     There must be      something     .     George Prime shrugged. Any woman will warm up if you spend enough timetelling her all the things she wants to hear and pay all the attentionto her that she wants paid to her. That's elemental psychology. I cangive you page references.     I ought to mention that George Prime had a complete set of basic textsrun into his circuits, at a slightly additional charge. Never can tellwhen an odd bit of information will come in useful.     Well, you must be doing quite a job, I said.      I'd     never managed towarm Marge up much.     I try, said George Prime.     Oh, I'm not complaining, I hastened to add, forgetting that a Prime'sfeelings can't be hurt and that he was only acting like me because itwas in character. I was just curious.     Of course, George.     I'm really delighted that you're doing so well.     Thank you, George.     But the next night when I was with Dawn, who happens to be a gorgeousredhead who could put Marge to shame on practically any field of battleexcept maybe brains, I kept thinking about Marge all evening long, andwondering if things weren't getting just a little out of hand.  <doc-sep>The next evening I almost tripped over George Prime coming out of aliquor store. I ducked quickly into an alley and flagged him.       Whatare you doing out on the street?          He gave me my martyred look. Just buying some bourbon. You were out.     But you're not supposed to be off the premises—     Marge asked me to come. I couldn't tell her I was sorry, but herhusband wouldn't let me, could I?     Well, certainly not—     You want me to keep her happy, don't you? You don't want her to getsuspicious.     No, but suppose somebody saw us together! If she ever got a hint—     I'm sorry, George Prime said contritely. It seemed the right thingto do.      You     would have done it. At least that's what my judgmentcenter maintained. We had quite an argument.     Well, tell your judgment center to use a little sense, I snapped. Idon't want it to happen again.     The next night, I stayed home, even though it was Tuesday night. I wasbeginning to get worried. Of course, I did have complete control—Icould snap George Prime off any time I wanted, or even take him in fora complete recircuiting—but it seemed a pity. He was doing such a nicejob.     Marge was docile as a kitten, even more so than before. She sympathizedwith my hard day at the office and agreed heartily that the boss,despite all appearances, was in reality a jabbering idiot. Afterdinner, I suggested a movie, but Marge gave me an odd sort of look andsaid she thought it would be much nicer to spend the evening at home bythe fire.     I'd just gotten settled with the paper when she came into the livingroom and sat down beside me. She was wearing some sort of filmy affairI'd never laid eyes on before, and I caught a whiff of my favoriteperfume.     Georgie? she said.     Uh?     Do you still love me?     I set the paper down and stared at her. How's that? Of course Istill—     Well, sometimes you don't act much like it.     Mm. I guess I've—uh—got an awful headache tonight. Damn thatperfume!     Oh, said Marge.     In fact, I thought I'd turn in early and get some sleep—     Sleep, said Marge. There was no mistaking the disappointment in hervoice. Now I knew that things were out of hand.     The next evening, I activated George Prime and caught the taxi at thecorner, but I called Ruby and broke my date with her. I took in anearly movie alone and was back by ten o'clock. I left the cab at thecorner and walked quietly up the path toward the garage.     Then I stopped. I could see Marge and George Prime through the livingroom windows.     George Prime was kissing my wife the way I hadn't kissed her in eightlong years. It made my hair stand on end. And Marge wasn't exactlyfighting him off, either. She was coming back for more. After a little,the lights went off.     George Prime was a Super Deluxe model, all right.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in PRIME DIFFERENCE?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What does the ""Prime"" technology signify in the context of the story ""Prime Difference""? [SEP] <s>Practical androids had been a pipe dream until Hunyadi invented theNeuro-pantograph. Hunyadi had no idea in the world what to do with itonce he'd invented it, but a couple of enterprising engineers boughthim body and soul, sub-contracted the problems of anatomy, design,artistry, audio and visio circuitry, and so forth, and ended up withthe modern Ego Primes we have today.     I spent a busy two hours under the NP microprobes; the artists workedoutside while the NP technicians worked inside. I came out of it prettywoozy, but a shot of Happy-O set that straight. Then I waited in therecovery room for another two hours, dreaming up ways to use my Primewhen I got him. Finally the door opened and the head technician walkedin, followed by a tall, sandy-haired man with worried blue eyes and atired look on his face.       Meet George Faircloth Prime, the technician said, grinning at me likea nursing mother.     I shook hands with myself. Good firm handshake, I thought admiringly.Nothing flabby about it.     I slapped George Prime on the shoulder happily. Come on, Brother, Isaid. You've got a job to do.     But, secretly, I was wondering what Jeree was doing that night.     George Prime had remote controls, as well as a completely recordedneurological analogue of his boss, who was me. George Prime thoughtwhat I thought about the same things I did in the same way I did. Theonly difference was that what I told George Prime to do, George Primedid.     If I told him to go to a business conference in San Francisco and makethe smallest possible concessions for the largest possible orders,he would go there and do precisely that. His signature would be mysignature. It would hold up in court.     And if I told him that my wife Marge was really a sweet, good-heartedgirl and that he was to stay home and keep her quiet and happy any timeI chose, he'd do that, too.     George Prime was a duplicate of me right down to the sandy hairs onthe back of my hands. Our fingerprints were the same. We had the samemannerisms and used the same figures of speech. The only physicaldifference apparent even to an expert was the tiny finger-depressionburied in the hair above his ear. A little pressure there would stopGeorge Prime dead in his tracks.     He was so lifelike, even I kept forgetting that he was basically just apile of gears.     I'd planned very carefully how I meant to use him, of course.     Every man who's been married eight years has a sanctuary. He builds itup and maintains it against assault in the very teeth of his wife'snatural instinct to clean, poke, pry and rearrange things. Sometimesit takes him years of diligent work to establish his hideout and beconfident that it will stay inviolate, but if he starts early enough,and sticks with it long enough, and is fierce enough and persistentenough and crafty enough, he'll probably win in the end. The girls hatehim for it, but he'll win.     With some men, it's just a box on their dressers, or a desk, or acorner of an unused back room. But I had set my sights high early inthe game. With me, it was the whole workshop in the garage.  <doc-sep>It was completely illegal, of course. The wonder was that Ego Prime,Inc., ever got to put their product on the market at all, once thenation's housewives got wind of just what their product was.     From the first, there was rigid Federal control and laws regulating theuse of Primes right down to the local level. You could get a licensefor a Utility model Prime if you were a big business executive, or ahigh public official, or a movie star, or something like that; but eventhen his circuits had to be inspected every two months, and he had tohave a thousand built-in Paralyzers, and you had to specify in advanceexactly what you wanted your Prime to be able to do when, where, how,why, and under what circumstances.     The law didn't leave a man much leeway.     But everybody knew that if you      really     wanted a personal Prime withall his circuits open and no questions asked, you could get one. Blackmarket prices were steep and you ran your own risk, but it could bedone.     Harry Folsom told his friend who knew a guy, and a few greenbacks gotlost somewhere, and I found myself looking at a greasy little man witha black mustache and a bald spot, up in a dingy fourth-story warehouseoff lower Broadway.     Ah, yes, the little man said. Mr. Faircloth. We've been expectingyou.  <doc-sep>Needless to say, the affairs of George Faircloth took on a new sparklewith George Prime on hand to cover the home front.     For the first week, I was hardly home at all. I must say I felt alittle guilty, leaving poor old George Prime to cope with Marge allthe time—he looked and acted so human, it was easy to forget thathe literally couldn't care less. But I felt apologetic all the samewhenever I took him out of his closet.     She's really a sweet girl underneath it all, I'd say. You'll learnto like her after a bit.     Of course I like her, George Prime said. You told me to, didn't you?Stop worrying. She's really a sweet girl underneath it all.     He sounded convincing enough, but still it bothered me. You're sureyou understand the exchange mechanism? I asked. I didn't want anyfoul-ups there, as you can imagine.     Perfectly, said George Prime. When you buzz the recall, I wait forthe first logical opportunity I can find to come out to the workshop,and you take over.     But you might get nervous. You might inadvertently tip her off.     George Prime looked pained. Really, old man! I'm a Super Deluxe model,remember? I don't have fourteen activated Hunyadi tubes up in thiscranial vault of mine just for nothing. You're the one that's nervous.I'll take care of everything. Relax.     So I did.     Jeree made good all her tacit promises and then some. She had a verycozy little apartment on 34th Street where we went to relax aftera hard day at the office. When we weren't doing the town, that is.As long as Jeree didn't try too much conversation, everything waswonderful.     And then, when Jeree got a little boring, there was Sybil in theaccounting department. Or Dorothy in promotion. Or Jane. Or Ingrid.     I could go on at some length, but I won't. I was building quite areputation for myself around the office.     Of course, it was like buying your first 3-V set. In a week or so, thenovelty wears off a little and you start eating on schedule again. Ittook a little while, but I finally had things down to a reasonableprogram.     Tuesday and Thursday nights, I was informally out while formallyin. Sometimes I took Sunday nights out if things got too stickyaround the house over the weekend. The rest of the time, George Primecooled his heels in his closet. Locked up, of course. Can't completelytrust a wife to observe a taboo, no matter how well trained she is.     There, was an irreconcilable amount of risk. George Prime had toquick-step some questions about my work at the office—there was noway to supply him with current data until the time for his regulartwo-month refill and pattern-accommodation at the laboratory. In themeantime, George Prime had to make do with what he had.     But as he himself pointed out he was a Super Deluxe model.  <doc-sep>I dashed into the workshop and punched the recall button as hard as Icould, swearing under my breath. How long had this been going on? Ipunched the button again, viciously, and waited.     George Prime didn't come out.     It was plenty cold out in the workshop that night and I didn't sleepa wink. About dawn, out came George Prime, looking like a man with afour-day hangover.     Our conversation got down to fundamentals. George Prime kept insistingblandly that, according to my own directions, he was to pick the firstlogical opportunity to come out when I buzzed, and that was exactlywhat he'd done.     I was furious all the way to work. I'd take care of this nonsense, allright. I'd have George Prime rewired from top to bottom as soon as thelaboratory could take him.     But I never phoned the laboratory. The bank was calling me when I gotto the office. They wanted to know what I planned to do about thatcheck of mine that had just bounced.     What check? I asked.     The one you wrote to cash yesterday—five hundred dollars—againstyour regular account, Mr. Faircloth.     The last I'd looked, I'd had about three thousand dollars in thataccount. I told the man so rather bluntly.     Oh, no, sir. That is, you      did     until last week. But all these checksyou've been cashing have emptied the account.     He flashed the checks on the desk screen. My signature was on every oneof them.     What about my special account? I'd learned long before that anaccount Marge didn't know about was sound rear-guard strategy.     That's been closed out for two weeks.     I hadn't written a check against that account for over a year! I glaredat the ceiling and tried to think things through.     I came up with a horrible thought.     Marge had always had her heart set on a trip to Bermuda. Just to getaway from it all, she'd say. A second honeymoon.     I got a list of travel agencies from the business directory and starteddown them. The third one I tried had a pleasant tenor voice. No, sir,not      Mrs.     Faircloth.      You     bought two tickets. One way. Champagneflight to Bermuda.     When? I choked out.     Why, today, as a matter of fact. It leaves Idlewild at eleveno'clock—     I let him worry about my amnesia and started home fast. I didn't knowwhat they'd given that Prime for circuits, but there was no questionnow that he was out of control—      way     out of control. And poor Marge,all worked up for a second honeymoon—     Then it struck me. Poor Marge? Poor sucker George! No Prime in hisright circuits would behave this way without some human guidance andthat meant only one thing: Marge had spotted him. It had happenedbefore. Couple of nasty court battles I'd read about. And she'd knownall about George Prime.       For how long?    <doc-sep>Marge didn't suspect a thing. In fact, George Prime seemed to be havinga remarkable effect on her. I didn't notice anything at first—I washardly ever home. But one night I found my pipe and slippers laid outfor me, and the evening paper neatly folded on my chair, and it broughtme up short. Marge had been extremely docile lately. We hadn't had agood fight in days. Weeks, come to think of it.     I thought it over and shrugged. Old age, I figured. She was bound tomellow sometime.     But pretty soon I began to wonder if she wasn't mellowing a little toomuch.     One night when I got home, she kissed me almost as though she reallymeant it. There wasn't an unpleasant word all through dinner, whichhappened to be steak with mushrooms, served in the dining room (!) bycandlelight (!!) with dinner music that Marge could never bear, chieflybecause I liked it.     We sat over coffee and cigarettes, and it seemed almost like oldtimes.      Very     old times, in fact I even caught myself looking at Margeagain—really      looking     at her, watching the light catch in her hair,almost admiring the sparkle in her brown eyes. Sparkle, I said, notglint.     As I mentioned before, Marge was always easy to look at. That night,she was practically ravishing.     What are you doing to her? I asked George Prime later, out in theworkshop.     Why, nothing, said George Prime, looking innocent. He couldn't foolme with his look, though, because it was exactly the look I use whenI'm guilty and pretending to be innocent.     There must be      something     .     George Prime shrugged. Any woman will warm up if you spend enough timetelling her all the things she wants to hear and pay all the attentionto her that she wants paid to her. That's elemental psychology. I cangive you page references.     I ought to mention that George Prime had a complete set of basic textsrun into his circuits, at a slightly additional charge. Never can tellwhen an odd bit of information will come in useful.     Well, you must be doing quite a job, I said.      I'd     never managed towarm Marge up much.     I try, said George Prime.     Oh, I'm not complaining, I hastened to add, forgetting that a Prime'sfeelings can't be hurt and that he was only acting like me because itwas in character. I was just curious.     Of course, George.     I'm really delighted that you're doing so well.     Thank you, George.     But the next night when I was with Dawn, who happens to be a gorgeousredhead who could put Marge to shame on practically any field of battleexcept maybe brains, I kept thinking about Marge all evening long, andwondering if things weren't getting just a little out of hand.  <doc-sep>The next evening I almost tripped over George Prime coming out of aliquor store. I ducked quickly into an alley and flagged him.       Whatare you doing out on the street?          He gave me my martyred look. Just buying some bourbon. You were out.     But you're not supposed to be off the premises—     Marge asked me to come. I couldn't tell her I was sorry, but herhusband wouldn't let me, could I?     Well, certainly not—     You want me to keep her happy, don't you? You don't want her to getsuspicious.     No, but suppose somebody saw us together! If she ever got a hint—     I'm sorry, George Prime said contritely. It seemed the right thingto do.      You     would have done it. At least that's what my judgmentcenter maintained. We had quite an argument.     Well, tell your judgment center to use a little sense, I snapped. Idon't want it to happen again.     The next night, I stayed home, even though it was Tuesday night. I wasbeginning to get worried. Of course, I did have complete control—Icould snap George Prime off any time I wanted, or even take him in fora complete recircuiting—but it seemed a pity. He was doing such a nicejob.     Marge was docile as a kitten, even more so than before. She sympathizedwith my hard day at the office and agreed heartily that the boss,despite all appearances, was in reality a jabbering idiot. Afterdinner, I suggested a movie, but Marge gave me an odd sort of look andsaid she thought it would be much nicer to spend the evening at home bythe fire.     I'd just gotten settled with the paper when she came into the livingroom and sat down beside me. She was wearing some sort of filmy affairI'd never laid eyes on before, and I caught a whiff of my favoriteperfume.     Georgie? she said.     Uh?     Do you still love me?     I set the paper down and stared at her. How's that? Of course Istill—     Well, sometimes you don't act much like it.     Mm. I guess I've—uh—got an awful headache tonight. Damn thatperfume!     Oh, said Marge.     In fact, I thought I'd turn in early and get some sleep—     Sleep, said Marge. There was no mistaking the disappointment in hervoice. Now I knew that things were out of hand.     The next evening, I activated George Prime and caught the taxi at thecorner, but I called Ruby and broke my date with her. I took in anearly movie alone and was back by ten o'clock. I left the cab at thecorner and walked quietly up the path toward the garage.     Then I stopped. I could see Marge and George Prime through the livingroom windows.     George Prime was kissing my wife the way I hadn't kissed her in eightlong years. It made my hair stand on end. And Marge wasn't exactlyfighting him off, either. She was coming back for more. After a little,the lights went off.     George Prime was a Super Deluxe model, all right.  <doc-sep>At first, Marge tried open warfare. She had to clean the place up, shesaid. I told her I didn't      want     her to clean it up. She could cleanthe whole house as often as she chose, but      I     would clean up theworkshop.     After a couple of sharp engagements on that field, Marge staged astrategic withdrawal and reorganized her attack. A little pile of woodshavings would be on the workshop floor one night and be gone the next.A wrench would be back on the rack—upside down, of course. An openpaint can would have a cover on it.     I always knew. I screamed loudly and bitterly. I ranted and raved. Iswore I'd rig up a booby-trap with a shotgun.     So she quit trying to clean in there and just went in once in a whileto take a look around. I fixed that with the old toothpick-in-the-doorroutine. Every time she so much as set foot in that workshop, she had abattle on her hands for the next week or so. She could count on it. Itwas that predictable.     She never found out how I knew, and after seven years or so, it woreher down. She didn't go into the workshop any more.     As I said, you've got to be persistent, but you'll win.     Eventually.     If you're      really     persistent.     Now all my effort paid off. I got Marge out of the house for an houror two that day and had George Prime delivered and stored in the bigcloset in the workshop. They hooked his controls up and left me amanual of instructions for running him. When I got home that night,there he was, just waiting to be put to work.     After supper, I went out to the workshop—to get the pipe I'd leftthere, I said. I pushed George Prime's button, winked at him andswitched on the free-behavior circuits.     Go to it, Brother, I said.     George Prime put my pipe in his mouth, lit it and walked back into thehouse.     Five minutes later, I heard them fighting.     It sounded so familiar that I laughed out loud. Then I caught a cab onthe corner and headed uptown.     We had quite a night, Jeree and I. I got home just about time to startfor work, and sure enough, there was George Prime starting my car,business suit on, briefcase under his arm.     I pushed the recall and George Prime got out of the car and walked intothe workshop. He stepped into his cradle in the closet. I turned himoff and then drove away in the car.     Bless his metallic soul, he'd even kissed Marge good-by for me!  <doc-sep>   PRIME DIFFERENCE     By ALAN E. NOURSE     Illustrated by SCHOENHEER     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction June 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Being two men rolled out of one would solve       my problems—but which one would I be?        I suppose that every guy reaches a point once in his lifetime when hegets one hundred and forty per cent fed up with his wife.     Understand now—I've got nothing against marriage or any thinglike that. Marriage is great. It's a good old red-blooded AmericanInstitution. Except that it's got one defect in it big enough to throwa cat through, especially when you happen to be married to a womanlike Marge—     It's so      permanent     .     Oh, I'd have divorced Marge in a minute if we'd been living in theBlissful 'Fifties—but with the Family Solidarity Amendment of 1968,and all the divorce taxes we have these days since the women gottheir teeth into politics, to say nothing of the Aggrieved SpouseCompensation Act, I'd have been a pauper for the rest of my life ifI'd tried it. That's aside from the social repercussions involved.     You can't really blame me for looking for another way out. But a manhas to be desperate to try to buy himself an Ego Prime.     So, all right, I was desperate. I'd spent eight years trying to keepMarge happy, which was exactly seven and a half years too long.     Marge was a dream to look at, with her tawny hair and her sulky eyesand a shape that could set your teeth chattering—but that was wherethe dream stopped.     She had a tongue like a #10 wood rasp and a list of grievances longenough to paper the bedroom wall. When she wasn't complaining, she wascrying, and when she wasn't crying, she was pointing out in chillingdetail exactly where George Faircloth fell short as a model husband,which happened to be everywhere. Half of the time she had a beastlyheadache (for which I was personally responsible) and the other halfshe was sore about something, so ninety-nine per cent of the time wegot along like a couple of tomcats in a packing case.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What does the ""Prime"" technology signify in the context of the story ""Prime Difference""?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How does the story PRIME DIFFERENCE delve into the theme of marriage? [SEP] <s>   PRIME DIFFERENCE     By ALAN E. NOURSE     Illustrated by SCHOENHEER     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction June 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Being two men rolled out of one would solve       my problems—but which one would I be?        I suppose that every guy reaches a point once in his lifetime when hegets one hundred and forty per cent fed up with his wife.     Understand now—I've got nothing against marriage or any thinglike that. Marriage is great. It's a good old red-blooded AmericanInstitution. Except that it's got one defect in it big enough to throwa cat through, especially when you happen to be married to a womanlike Marge—     It's so      permanent     .     Oh, I'd have divorced Marge in a minute if we'd been living in theBlissful 'Fifties—but with the Family Solidarity Amendment of 1968,and all the divorce taxes we have these days since the women gottheir teeth into politics, to say nothing of the Aggrieved SpouseCompensation Act, I'd have been a pauper for the rest of my life ifI'd tried it. That's aside from the social repercussions involved.     You can't really blame me for looking for another way out. But a manhas to be desperate to try to buy himself an Ego Prime.     So, all right, I was desperate. I'd spent eight years trying to keepMarge happy, which was exactly seven and a half years too long.     Marge was a dream to look at, with her tawny hair and her sulky eyesand a shape that could set your teeth chattering—but that was wherethe dream stopped.     She had a tongue like a #10 wood rasp and a list of grievances longenough to paper the bedroom wall. When she wasn't complaining, she wascrying, and when she wasn't crying, she was pointing out in chillingdetail exactly where George Faircloth fell short as a model husband,which happened to be everywhere. Half of the time she had a beastlyheadache (for which I was personally responsible) and the other halfshe was sore about something, so ninety-nine per cent of the time wegot along like a couple of tomcats in a packing case.  <doc-sep>Practical androids had been a pipe dream until Hunyadi invented theNeuro-pantograph. Hunyadi had no idea in the world what to do with itonce he'd invented it, but a couple of enterprising engineers boughthim body and soul, sub-contracted the problems of anatomy, design,artistry, audio and visio circuitry, and so forth, and ended up withthe modern Ego Primes we have today.     I spent a busy two hours under the NP microprobes; the artists workedoutside while the NP technicians worked inside. I came out of it prettywoozy, but a shot of Happy-O set that straight. Then I waited in therecovery room for another two hours, dreaming up ways to use my Primewhen I got him. Finally the door opened and the head technician walkedin, followed by a tall, sandy-haired man with worried blue eyes and atired look on his face.       Meet George Faircloth Prime, the technician said, grinning at me likea nursing mother.     I shook hands with myself. Good firm handshake, I thought admiringly.Nothing flabby about it.     I slapped George Prime on the shoulder happily. Come on, Brother, Isaid. You've got a job to do.     But, secretly, I was wondering what Jeree was doing that night.     George Prime had remote controls, as well as a completely recordedneurological analogue of his boss, who was me. George Prime thoughtwhat I thought about the same things I did in the same way I did. Theonly difference was that what I told George Prime to do, George Primedid.     If I told him to go to a business conference in San Francisco and makethe smallest possible concessions for the largest possible orders,he would go there and do precisely that. His signature would be mysignature. It would hold up in court.     And if I told him that my wife Marge was really a sweet, good-heartedgirl and that he was to stay home and keep her quiet and happy any timeI chose, he'd do that, too.     George Prime was a duplicate of me right down to the sandy hairs onthe back of my hands. Our fingerprints were the same. We had the samemannerisms and used the same figures of speech. The only physicaldifference apparent even to an expert was the tiny finger-depressionburied in the hair above his ear. A little pressure there would stopGeorge Prime dead in his tracks.     He was so lifelike, even I kept forgetting that he was basically just apile of gears.     I'd planned very carefully how I meant to use him, of course.     Every man who's been married eight years has a sanctuary. He builds itup and maintains it against assault in the very teeth of his wife'snatural instinct to clean, poke, pry and rearrange things. Sometimesit takes him years of diligent work to establish his hideout and beconfident that it will stay inviolate, but if he starts early enough,and sticks with it long enough, and is fierce enough and persistentenough and crafty enough, he'll probably win in the end. The girls hatehim for it, but he'll win.     With some men, it's just a box on their dressers, or a desk, or acorner of an unused back room. But I had set my sights high early inthe game. With me, it was the whole workshop in the garage.  <doc-sep>Outside in the corridor, Magnan came up to Retief, who stood talking toa tall man in a pilot's coverall.     I'll be tied up, sending through full details on my—our—yourrecruiting theme, Retief, Magnan said. Suppose you run into the cityto assist the new Verpp Consul in settling in.     I'll do that, Mr. Magnan. Anything else?     Magnan raised his eyebrows. You're remarkably compliant today, Retief.I'll arrange transportation.     Don't bother, Mr. Magnan. Cy here will run me over. He was the pilotwho ferried us over to Roolit I, you recall.     I'll be with you as soon as I pack a few phone numbers, Retief, thepilot said. He moved off. Magnan followed him with a disapproving eye.An uncouth sort, I fancied. I trust you're not consorting with hiskind socially.     I wouldn't say that, exactly, Retief said. We just want to go over afew figures together.   <doc-sep>It was completely illegal, of course. The wonder was that Ego Prime,Inc., ever got to put their product on the market at all, once thenation's housewives got wind of just what their product was.     From the first, there was rigid Federal control and laws regulating theuse of Primes right down to the local level. You could get a licensefor a Utility model Prime if you were a big business executive, or ahigh public official, or a movie star, or something like that; but eventhen his circuits had to be inspected every two months, and he had tohave a thousand built-in Paralyzers, and you had to specify in advanceexactly what you wanted your Prime to be able to do when, where, how,why, and under what circumstances.     The law didn't leave a man much leeway.     But everybody knew that if you      really     wanted a personal Prime withall his circuits open and no questions asked, you could get one. Blackmarket prices were steep and you ran your own risk, but it could bedone.     Harry Folsom told his friend who knew a guy, and a few greenbacks gotlost somewhere, and I found myself looking at a greasy little man witha black mustache and a bald spot, up in a dingy fourth-story warehouseoff lower Broadway.     Ah, yes, the little man said. Mr. Faircloth. We've been expectingyou.  <doc-sep>Needless to say, the affairs of George Faircloth took on a new sparklewith George Prime on hand to cover the home front.     For the first week, I was hardly home at all. I must say I felt alittle guilty, leaving poor old George Prime to cope with Marge allthe time—he looked and acted so human, it was easy to forget thathe literally couldn't care less. But I felt apologetic all the samewhenever I took him out of his closet.     She's really a sweet girl underneath it all, I'd say. You'll learnto like her after a bit.     Of course I like her, George Prime said. You told me to, didn't you?Stop worrying. She's really a sweet girl underneath it all.     He sounded convincing enough, but still it bothered me. You're sureyou understand the exchange mechanism? I asked. I didn't want anyfoul-ups there, as you can imagine.     Perfectly, said George Prime. When you buzz the recall, I wait forthe first logical opportunity I can find to come out to the workshop,and you take over.     But you might get nervous. You might inadvertently tip her off.     George Prime looked pained. Really, old man! I'm a Super Deluxe model,remember? I don't have fourteen activated Hunyadi tubes up in thiscranial vault of mine just for nothing. You're the one that's nervous.I'll take care of everything. Relax.     So I did.     Jeree made good all her tacit promises and then some. She had a verycozy little apartment on 34th Street where we went to relax aftera hard day at the office. When we weren't doing the town, that is.As long as Jeree didn't try too much conversation, everything waswonderful.     And then, when Jeree got a little boring, there was Sybil in theaccounting department. Or Dorothy in promotion. Or Jane. Or Ingrid.     I could go on at some length, but I won't. I was building quite areputation for myself around the office.     Of course, it was like buying your first 3-V set. In a week or so, thenovelty wears off a little and you start eating on schedule again. Ittook a little while, but I finally had things down to a reasonableprogram.     Tuesday and Thursday nights, I was informally out while formallyin. Sometimes I took Sunday nights out if things got too stickyaround the house over the weekend. The rest of the time, George Primecooled his heels in his closet. Locked up, of course. Can't completelytrust a wife to observe a taboo, no matter how well trained she is.     There, was an irreconcilable amount of risk. George Prime had toquick-step some questions about my work at the office—there was noway to supply him with current data until the time for his regulartwo-month refill and pattern-accommodation at the laboratory. In themeantime, George Prime had to make do with what he had.     But as he himself pointed out he was a Super Deluxe model.  <doc-sep>I dashed into the workshop and punched the recall button as hard as Icould, swearing under my breath. How long had this been going on? Ipunched the button again, viciously, and waited.     George Prime didn't come out.     It was plenty cold out in the workshop that night and I didn't sleepa wink. About dawn, out came George Prime, looking like a man with afour-day hangover.     Our conversation got down to fundamentals. George Prime kept insistingblandly that, according to my own directions, he was to pick the firstlogical opportunity to come out when I buzzed, and that was exactlywhat he'd done.     I was furious all the way to work. I'd take care of this nonsense, allright. I'd have George Prime rewired from top to bottom as soon as thelaboratory could take him.     But I never phoned the laboratory. The bank was calling me when I gotto the office. They wanted to know what I planned to do about thatcheck of mine that had just bounced.     What check? I asked.     The one you wrote to cash yesterday—five hundred dollars—againstyour regular account, Mr. Faircloth.     The last I'd looked, I'd had about three thousand dollars in thataccount. I told the man so rather bluntly.     Oh, no, sir. That is, you      did     until last week. But all these checksyou've been cashing have emptied the account.     He flashed the checks on the desk screen. My signature was on every oneof them.     What about my special account? I'd learned long before that anaccount Marge didn't know about was sound rear-guard strategy.     That's been closed out for two weeks.     I hadn't written a check against that account for over a year! I glaredat the ceiling and tried to think things through.     I came up with a horrible thought.     Marge had always had her heart set on a trip to Bermuda. Just to getaway from it all, she'd say. A second honeymoon.     I got a list of travel agencies from the business directory and starteddown them. The third one I tried had a pleasant tenor voice. No, sir,not      Mrs.     Faircloth.      You     bought two tickets. One way. Champagneflight to Bermuda.     When? I choked out.     Why, today, as a matter of fact. It leaves Idlewild at eleveno'clock—     I let him worry about my amnesia and started home fast. I didn't knowwhat they'd given that Prime for circuits, but there was no questionnow that he was out of control—      way     out of control. And poor Marge,all worked up for a second honeymoon—     Then it struck me. Poor Marge? Poor sucker George! No Prime in hisright circuits would behave this way without some human guidance andthat meant only one thing: Marge had spotted him. It had happenedbefore. Couple of nasty court battles I'd read about. And she'd knownall about George Prime.       For how long?    <doc-sep>Marge didn't suspect a thing. In fact, George Prime seemed to be havinga remarkable effect on her. I didn't notice anything at first—I washardly ever home. But one night I found my pipe and slippers laid outfor me, and the evening paper neatly folded on my chair, and it broughtme up short. Marge had been extremely docile lately. We hadn't had agood fight in days. Weeks, come to think of it.     I thought it over and shrugged. Old age, I figured. She was bound tomellow sometime.     But pretty soon I began to wonder if she wasn't mellowing a little toomuch.     One night when I got home, she kissed me almost as though she reallymeant it. There wasn't an unpleasant word all through dinner, whichhappened to be steak with mushrooms, served in the dining room (!) bycandlelight (!!) with dinner music that Marge could never bear, chieflybecause I liked it.     We sat over coffee and cigarettes, and it seemed almost like oldtimes.      Very     old times, in fact I even caught myself looking at Margeagain—really      looking     at her, watching the light catch in her hair,almost admiring the sparkle in her brown eyes. Sparkle, I said, notglint.     As I mentioned before, Marge was always easy to look at. That night,she was practically ravishing.     What are you doing to her? I asked George Prime later, out in theworkshop.     Why, nothing, said George Prime, looking innocent. He couldn't foolme with his look, though, because it was exactly the look I use whenI'm guilty and pretending to be innocent.     There must be      something     .     George Prime shrugged. Any woman will warm up if you spend enough timetelling her all the things she wants to hear and pay all the attentionto her that she wants paid to her. That's elemental psychology. I cangive you page references.     I ought to mention that George Prime had a complete set of basic textsrun into his circuits, at a slightly additional charge. Never can tellwhen an odd bit of information will come in useful.     Well, you must be doing quite a job, I said.      I'd     never managed towarm Marge up much.     I try, said George Prime.     Oh, I'm not complaining, I hastened to add, forgetting that a Prime'sfeelings can't be hurt and that he was only acting like me because itwas in character. I was just curious.     Of course, George.     I'm really delighted that you're doing so well.     Thank you, George.     But the next night when I was with Dawn, who happens to be a gorgeousredhead who could put Marge to shame on practically any field of battleexcept maybe brains, I kept thinking about Marge all evening long, andwondering if things weren't getting just a little out of hand.  <doc-sep>The next evening I almost tripped over George Prime coming out of aliquor store. I ducked quickly into an alley and flagged him.       Whatare you doing out on the street?          He gave me my martyred look. Just buying some bourbon. You were out.     But you're not supposed to be off the premises—     Marge asked me to come. I couldn't tell her I was sorry, but herhusband wouldn't let me, could I?     Well, certainly not—     You want me to keep her happy, don't you? You don't want her to getsuspicious.     No, but suppose somebody saw us together! If she ever got a hint—     I'm sorry, George Prime said contritely. It seemed the right thingto do.      You     would have done it. At least that's what my judgmentcenter maintained. We had quite an argument.     Well, tell your judgment center to use a little sense, I snapped. Idon't want it to happen again.     The next night, I stayed home, even though it was Tuesday night. I wasbeginning to get worried. Of course, I did have complete control—Icould snap George Prime off any time I wanted, or even take him in fora complete recircuiting—but it seemed a pity. He was doing such a nicejob.     Marge was docile as a kitten, even more so than before. She sympathizedwith my hard day at the office and agreed heartily that the boss,despite all appearances, was in reality a jabbering idiot. Afterdinner, I suggested a movie, but Marge gave me an odd sort of look andsaid she thought it would be much nicer to spend the evening at home bythe fire.     I'd just gotten settled with the paper when she came into the livingroom and sat down beside me. She was wearing some sort of filmy affairI'd never laid eyes on before, and I caught a whiff of my favoriteperfume.     Georgie? she said.     Uh?     Do you still love me?     I set the paper down and stared at her. How's that? Of course Istill—     Well, sometimes you don't act much like it.     Mm. I guess I've—uh—got an awful headache tonight. Damn thatperfume!     Oh, said Marge.     In fact, I thought I'd turn in early and get some sleep—     Sleep, said Marge. There was no mistaking the disappointment in hervoice. Now I knew that things were out of hand.     The next evening, I activated George Prime and caught the taxi at thecorner, but I called Ruby and broke my date with her. I took in anearly movie alone and was back by ten o'clock. I left the cab at thecorner and walked quietly up the path toward the garage.     Then I stopped. I could see Marge and George Prime through the livingroom windows.     George Prime was kissing my wife the way I hadn't kissed her in eightlong years. It made my hair stand on end. And Marge wasn't exactlyfighting him off, either. She was coming back for more. After a little,the lights went off.     George Prime was a Super Deluxe model, all right.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How does the story PRIME DIFFERENCE delve into the theme of marriage?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What distinguishes the connection between George Faircloth and Marge Faircloth in PRIME DIFFERENCE? [SEP] <s>I dashed into the workshop and punched the recall button as hard as Icould, swearing under my breath. How long had this been going on? Ipunched the button again, viciously, and waited.     George Prime didn't come out.     It was plenty cold out in the workshop that night and I didn't sleepa wink. About dawn, out came George Prime, looking like a man with afour-day hangover.     Our conversation got down to fundamentals. George Prime kept insistingblandly that, according to my own directions, he was to pick the firstlogical opportunity to come out when I buzzed, and that was exactlywhat he'd done.     I was furious all the way to work. I'd take care of this nonsense, allright. I'd have George Prime rewired from top to bottom as soon as thelaboratory could take him.     But I never phoned the laboratory. The bank was calling me when I gotto the office. They wanted to know what I planned to do about thatcheck of mine that had just bounced.     What check? I asked.     The one you wrote to cash yesterday—five hundred dollars—againstyour regular account, Mr. Faircloth.     The last I'd looked, I'd had about three thousand dollars in thataccount. I told the man so rather bluntly.     Oh, no, sir. That is, you      did     until last week. But all these checksyou've been cashing have emptied the account.     He flashed the checks on the desk screen. My signature was on every oneof them.     What about my special account? I'd learned long before that anaccount Marge didn't know about was sound rear-guard strategy.     That's been closed out for two weeks.     I hadn't written a check against that account for over a year! I glaredat the ceiling and tried to think things through.     I came up with a horrible thought.     Marge had always had her heart set on a trip to Bermuda. Just to getaway from it all, she'd say. A second honeymoon.     I got a list of travel agencies from the business directory and starteddown them. The third one I tried had a pleasant tenor voice. No, sir,not      Mrs.     Faircloth.      You     bought two tickets. One way. Champagneflight to Bermuda.     When? I choked out.     Why, today, as a matter of fact. It leaves Idlewild at eleveno'clock—     I let him worry about my amnesia and started home fast. I didn't knowwhat they'd given that Prime for circuits, but there was no questionnow that he was out of control—      way     out of control. And poor Marge,all worked up for a second honeymoon—     Then it struck me. Poor Marge? Poor sucker George! No Prime in hisright circuits would behave this way without some human guidance andthat meant only one thing: Marge had spotted him. It had happenedbefore. Couple of nasty court battles I'd read about. And she'd knownall about George Prime.       For how long?    <doc-sep>Practical androids had been a pipe dream until Hunyadi invented theNeuro-pantograph. Hunyadi had no idea in the world what to do with itonce he'd invented it, but a couple of enterprising engineers boughthim body and soul, sub-contracted the problems of anatomy, design,artistry, audio and visio circuitry, and so forth, and ended up withthe modern Ego Primes we have today.     I spent a busy two hours under the NP microprobes; the artists workedoutside while the NP technicians worked inside. I came out of it prettywoozy, but a shot of Happy-O set that straight. Then I waited in therecovery room for another two hours, dreaming up ways to use my Primewhen I got him. Finally the door opened and the head technician walkedin, followed by a tall, sandy-haired man with worried blue eyes and atired look on his face.       Meet George Faircloth Prime, the technician said, grinning at me likea nursing mother.     I shook hands with myself. Good firm handshake, I thought admiringly.Nothing flabby about it.     I slapped George Prime on the shoulder happily. Come on, Brother, Isaid. You've got a job to do.     But, secretly, I was wondering what Jeree was doing that night.     George Prime had remote controls, as well as a completely recordedneurological analogue of his boss, who was me. George Prime thoughtwhat I thought about the same things I did in the same way I did. Theonly difference was that what I told George Prime to do, George Primedid.     If I told him to go to a business conference in San Francisco and makethe smallest possible concessions for the largest possible orders,he would go there and do precisely that. His signature would be mysignature. It would hold up in court.     And if I told him that my wife Marge was really a sweet, good-heartedgirl and that he was to stay home and keep her quiet and happy any timeI chose, he'd do that, too.     George Prime was a duplicate of me right down to the sandy hairs onthe back of my hands. Our fingerprints were the same. We had the samemannerisms and used the same figures of speech. The only physicaldifference apparent even to an expert was the tiny finger-depressionburied in the hair above his ear. A little pressure there would stopGeorge Prime dead in his tracks.     He was so lifelike, even I kept forgetting that he was basically just apile of gears.     I'd planned very carefully how I meant to use him, of course.     Every man who's been married eight years has a sanctuary. He builds itup and maintains it against assault in the very teeth of his wife'snatural instinct to clean, poke, pry and rearrange things. Sometimesit takes him years of diligent work to establish his hideout and beconfident that it will stay inviolate, but if he starts early enough,and sticks with it long enough, and is fierce enough and persistentenough and crafty enough, he'll probably win in the end. The girls hatehim for it, but he'll win.     With some men, it's just a box on their dressers, or a desk, or acorner of an unused back room. But I had set my sights high early inthe game. With me, it was the whole workshop in the garage.  <doc-sep>When I got home, the house was empty. George Prime wasn't in hiscloset. And Marge wasn't in the house.     They were gone.     I started to call the police, but caught myself just in time. Icouldn't very well complain to the cops that my wife had run off withan android.     Worse yet, I could get twenty years for having an illegal Primewandering around.     I sat down and poured myself a stiff drink.     My own wife deserting me for a pile of bearings.     It was indecent.     Then I heard the front door open and there was Marge, her arms full ofgrocery bundles. Why, darling! You're home early!     I just blinked for a moment. Then I said, You're still here!     Of course. Where did you think I'd be?     But I thought—I mean the ticket office—     She set down the bundles and kissed me and looked up into my eyes,almost smiling, half reproachful. You didn't really think I'd gorunning off with something out of a lab, did you?     Then—you knew?     Certainly I knew, silly. You didn't do a very good job of instructinghim, either. You gave him far too much latitude. Let him have ideas ofhis own and all that. And next thing I knew, he was trying to get me torun off with him to Hawaii or someplace.     Bermuda, I said.     And then Marge was in my arms, kissing me and snuggling her cheekagainst my chest.     Even though he looked like you, I knew he couldn't be, she said. Hewas like you, but he wasn't      you     , darling. And all I ever want is you.I just never appreciated you before....     I held her close and tried to keep my hands from shaking. GeorgeFaircloth, Idiot, I thought. She'd never been more beautiful. But whatdid you do with him?     I sent him back to the factory, naturally. They said they could blothim out and use him over again. But let's not talk about that any more.We've got more interesting things to discuss.     Maybe we had, but we didn't waste a lot of time talking. It was theMarge I'd once known and I was beginning to wonder how I could havebeen so wrong about her. In fact unless my memory was getting awfullyporous, the old Marge was      never     like this—     I kissed her tenderly and ran my hands through her hair, and feltthe depression with my fore-finger, and then I knew what had reallyhappened.     That Marge always had been a sly one.     I wondered how she was liking things in Bermuda.  <doc-sep>   PRIME DIFFERENCE     By ALAN E. NOURSE     Illustrated by SCHOENHEER     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction June 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Being two men rolled out of one would solve       my problems—but which one would I be?        I suppose that every guy reaches a point once in his lifetime when hegets one hundred and forty per cent fed up with his wife.     Understand now—I've got nothing against marriage or any thinglike that. Marriage is great. It's a good old red-blooded AmericanInstitution. Except that it's got one defect in it big enough to throwa cat through, especially when you happen to be married to a womanlike Marge—     It's so      permanent     .     Oh, I'd have divorced Marge in a minute if we'd been living in theBlissful 'Fifties—but with the Family Solidarity Amendment of 1968,and all the divorce taxes we have these days since the women gottheir teeth into politics, to say nothing of the Aggrieved SpouseCompensation Act, I'd have been a pauper for the rest of my life ifI'd tried it. That's aside from the social repercussions involved.     You can't really blame me for looking for another way out. But a manhas to be desperate to try to buy himself an Ego Prime.     So, all right, I was desperate. I'd spent eight years trying to keepMarge happy, which was exactly seven and a half years too long.     Marge was a dream to look at, with her tawny hair and her sulky eyesand a shape that could set your teeth chattering—but that was wherethe dream stopped.     She had a tongue like a #10 wood rasp and a list of grievances longenough to paper the bedroom wall. When she wasn't complaining, she wascrying, and when she wasn't crying, she was pointing out in chillingdetail exactly where George Faircloth fell short as a model husband,which happened to be everywhere. Half of the time she had a beastlyheadache (for which I was personally responsible) and the other halfshe was sore about something, so ninety-nine per cent of the time wegot along like a couple of tomcats in a packing case.  <doc-sep>Needless to say, the affairs of George Faircloth took on a new sparklewith George Prime on hand to cover the home front.     For the first week, I was hardly home at all. I must say I felt alittle guilty, leaving poor old George Prime to cope with Marge allthe time—he looked and acted so human, it was easy to forget thathe literally couldn't care less. But I felt apologetic all the samewhenever I took him out of his closet.     She's really a sweet girl underneath it all, I'd say. You'll learnto like her after a bit.     Of course I like her, George Prime said. You told me to, didn't you?Stop worrying. She's really a sweet girl underneath it all.     He sounded convincing enough, but still it bothered me. You're sureyou understand the exchange mechanism? I asked. I didn't want anyfoul-ups there, as you can imagine.     Perfectly, said George Prime. When you buzz the recall, I wait forthe first logical opportunity I can find to come out to the workshop,and you take over.     But you might get nervous. You might inadvertently tip her off.     George Prime looked pained. Really, old man! I'm a Super Deluxe model,remember? I don't have fourteen activated Hunyadi tubes up in thiscranial vault of mine just for nothing. You're the one that's nervous.I'll take care of everything. Relax.     So I did.     Jeree made good all her tacit promises and then some. She had a verycozy little apartment on 34th Street where we went to relax aftera hard day at the office. When we weren't doing the town, that is.As long as Jeree didn't try too much conversation, everything waswonderful.     And then, when Jeree got a little boring, there was Sybil in theaccounting department. Or Dorothy in promotion. Or Jane. Or Ingrid.     I could go on at some length, but I won't. I was building quite areputation for myself around the office.     Of course, it was like buying your first 3-V set. In a week or so, thenovelty wears off a little and you start eating on schedule again. Ittook a little while, but I finally had things down to a reasonableprogram.     Tuesday and Thursday nights, I was informally out while formallyin. Sometimes I took Sunday nights out if things got too stickyaround the house over the weekend. The rest of the time, George Primecooled his heels in his closet. Locked up, of course. Can't completelytrust a wife to observe a taboo, no matter how well trained she is.     There, was an irreconcilable amount of risk. George Prime had toquick-step some questions about my work at the office—there was noway to supply him with current data until the time for his regulartwo-month refill and pattern-accommodation at the laboratory. In themeantime, George Prime had to make do with what he had.     But as he himself pointed out he was a Super Deluxe model.  <doc-sep>Marge didn't suspect a thing. In fact, George Prime seemed to be havinga remarkable effect on her. I didn't notice anything at first—I washardly ever home. But one night I found my pipe and slippers laid outfor me, and the evening paper neatly folded on my chair, and it broughtme up short. Marge had been extremely docile lately. We hadn't had agood fight in days. Weeks, come to think of it.     I thought it over and shrugged. Old age, I figured. She was bound tomellow sometime.     But pretty soon I began to wonder if she wasn't mellowing a little toomuch.     One night when I got home, she kissed me almost as though she reallymeant it. There wasn't an unpleasant word all through dinner, whichhappened to be steak with mushrooms, served in the dining room (!) bycandlelight (!!) with dinner music that Marge could never bear, chieflybecause I liked it.     We sat over coffee and cigarettes, and it seemed almost like oldtimes.      Very     old times, in fact I even caught myself looking at Margeagain—really      looking     at her, watching the light catch in her hair,almost admiring the sparkle in her brown eyes. Sparkle, I said, notglint.     As I mentioned before, Marge was always easy to look at. That night,she was practically ravishing.     What are you doing to her? I asked George Prime later, out in theworkshop.     Why, nothing, said George Prime, looking innocent. He couldn't foolme with his look, though, because it was exactly the look I use whenI'm guilty and pretending to be innocent.     There must be      something     .     George Prime shrugged. Any woman will warm up if you spend enough timetelling her all the things she wants to hear and pay all the attentionto her that she wants paid to her. That's elemental psychology. I cangive you page references.     I ought to mention that George Prime had a complete set of basic textsrun into his circuits, at a slightly additional charge. Never can tellwhen an odd bit of information will come in useful.     Well, you must be doing quite a job, I said.      I'd     never managed towarm Marge up much.     I try, said George Prime.     Oh, I'm not complaining, I hastened to add, forgetting that a Prime'sfeelings can't be hurt and that he was only acting like me because itwas in character. I was just curious.     Of course, George.     I'm really delighted that you're doing so well.     Thank you, George.     But the next night when I was with Dawn, who happens to be a gorgeousredhead who could put Marge to shame on practically any field of battleexcept maybe brains, I kept thinking about Marge all evening long, andwondering if things weren't getting just a little out of hand.  <doc-sep>The next evening I almost tripped over George Prime coming out of aliquor store. I ducked quickly into an alley and flagged him.       Whatare you doing out on the street?          He gave me my martyred look. Just buying some bourbon. You were out.     But you're not supposed to be off the premises—     Marge asked me to come. I couldn't tell her I was sorry, but herhusband wouldn't let me, could I?     Well, certainly not—     You want me to keep her happy, don't you? You don't want her to getsuspicious.     No, but suppose somebody saw us together! If she ever got a hint—     I'm sorry, George Prime said contritely. It seemed the right thingto do.      You     would have done it. At least that's what my judgmentcenter maintained. We had quite an argument.     Well, tell your judgment center to use a little sense, I snapped. Idon't want it to happen again.     The next night, I stayed home, even though it was Tuesday night. I wasbeginning to get worried. Of course, I did have complete control—Icould snap George Prime off any time I wanted, or even take him in fora complete recircuiting—but it seemed a pity. He was doing such a nicejob.     Marge was docile as a kitten, even more so than before. She sympathizedwith my hard day at the office and agreed heartily that the boss,despite all appearances, was in reality a jabbering idiot. Afterdinner, I suggested a movie, but Marge gave me an odd sort of look andsaid she thought it would be much nicer to spend the evening at home bythe fire.     I'd just gotten settled with the paper when she came into the livingroom and sat down beside me. She was wearing some sort of filmy affairI'd never laid eyes on before, and I caught a whiff of my favoriteperfume.     Georgie? she said.     Uh?     Do you still love me?     I set the paper down and stared at her. How's that? Of course Istill—     Well, sometimes you don't act much like it.     Mm. I guess I've—uh—got an awful headache tonight. Damn thatperfume!     Oh, said Marge.     In fact, I thought I'd turn in early and get some sleep—     Sleep, said Marge. There was no mistaking the disappointment in hervoice. Now I knew that things were out of hand.     The next evening, I activated George Prime and caught the taxi at thecorner, but I called Ruby and broke my date with her. I took in anearly movie alone and was back by ten o'clock. I left the cab at thecorner and walked quietly up the path toward the garage.     Then I stopped. I could see Marge and George Prime through the livingroom windows.     George Prime was kissing my wife the way I hadn't kissed her in eightlong years. It made my hair stand on end. And Marge wasn't exactlyfighting him off, either. She was coming back for more. After a little,the lights went off.     George Prime was a Super Deluxe model, all right.  <doc-sep>At first, Marge tried open warfare. She had to clean the place up, shesaid. I told her I didn't      want     her to clean it up. She could cleanthe whole house as often as she chose, but      I     would clean up theworkshop.     After a couple of sharp engagements on that field, Marge staged astrategic withdrawal and reorganized her attack. A little pile of woodshavings would be on the workshop floor one night and be gone the next.A wrench would be back on the rack—upside down, of course. An openpaint can would have a cover on it.     I always knew. I screamed loudly and bitterly. I ranted and raved. Iswore I'd rig up a booby-trap with a shotgun.     So she quit trying to clean in there and just went in once in a whileto take a look around. I fixed that with the old toothpick-in-the-doorroutine. Every time she so much as set foot in that workshop, she had abattle on her hands for the next week or so. She could count on it. Itwas that predictable.     She never found out how I knew, and after seven years or so, it woreher down. She didn't go into the workshop any more.     As I said, you've got to be persistent, but you'll win.     Eventually.     If you're      really     persistent.     Now all my effort paid off. I got Marge out of the house for an houror two that day and had George Prime delivered and stored in the bigcloset in the workshop. They hooked his controls up and left me amanual of instructions for running him. When I got home that night,there he was, just waiting to be put to work.     After supper, I went out to the workshop—to get the pipe I'd leftthere, I said. I pushed George Prime's button, winked at him andswitched on the free-behavior circuits.     Go to it, Brother, I said.     George Prime put my pipe in his mouth, lit it and walked back into thehouse.     Five minutes later, I heard them fighting.     It sounded so familiar that I laughed out loud. Then I caught a cab onthe corner and headed uptown.     We had quite a night, Jeree and I. I got home just about time to startfor work, and sure enough, there was George Prime starting my car,business suit on, briefcase under his arm.     I pushed the recall and George Prime got out of the car and walked intothe workshop. He stepped into his cradle in the closet. I turned himoff and then drove away in the car.     Bless his metallic soul, he'd even kissed Marge good-by for me!  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What distinguishes the connection between George Faircloth and Marge Faircloth in PRIME DIFFERENCE?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the significance of Harry Folsom in the narrative of PRIME DIFFERENCE? [SEP] <s>It was completely illegal, of course. The wonder was that Ego Prime,Inc., ever got to put their product on the market at all, once thenation's housewives got wind of just what their product was.     From the first, there was rigid Federal control and laws regulating theuse of Primes right down to the local level. You could get a licensefor a Utility model Prime if you were a big business executive, or ahigh public official, or a movie star, or something like that; but eventhen his circuits had to be inspected every two months, and he had tohave a thousand built-in Paralyzers, and you had to specify in advanceexactly what you wanted your Prime to be able to do when, where, how,why, and under what circumstances.     The law didn't leave a man much leeway.     But everybody knew that if you      really     wanted a personal Prime withall his circuits open and no questions asked, you could get one. Blackmarket prices were steep and you ran your own risk, but it could bedone.     Harry Folsom told his friend who knew a guy, and a few greenbacks gotlost somewhere, and I found myself looking at a greasy little man witha black mustache and a bald spot, up in a dingy fourth-story warehouseoff lower Broadway.     Ah, yes, the little man said. Mr. Faircloth. We've been expectingyou.  <doc-sep>Maybe we just weren't meant for each other. I don't know. I used toenvy guys like Harry Folsom at the office. His wife is no joy to livewith either, but at least he could take a spin down to Rio once in awhile with one of the stenographers and get away with it.     I knew better than to try. Marge was already so jealous that I couldn'teven smile at the company receptionist without a twinge of guilt. GiveMarge something real to howl about, and I'd be ready for the RehabCenter in a week.     But I'd underestimated Marge. She didn't need anything real, as I foundout when Jeree came along.     Business was booming and the secretaries at the office got shuffledaround from time to time. Since I had an executive-type job, I got anexecutive-type secretary. Her name was Jeree and she was gorgeous. Asa matter of fact, she was better than gorgeous. She was the sort ofsecretary every businessman ought to have in his office. Not to do anywork—just to sit there.     Jeree was tall and dark, and she could convey more without sayinganything than I ever dreamed was possible. The first day she wasthere, she conveyed to me very clearly that if I cared to supply theopportunity, she'd be glad to supply the motive.     That night, I could tell that Marge had been thinking something overduring the day. She let me get the first bite of dinner halfway to mymouth, and then she said, I hear you got a new secretary today.     I muttered something into my coffee cup and pretended not to hear.     Marge turned on her Accusing Look #7. I also hear that she'sfive-foot-eight and tapes out at 38-25-36 and thinks you're handsome.     Marge had quite a spy system.     She couldn't be much of a secretary, she added.     She's a perfectly good secretary, I blurted, and kicked myselfmentally. I should have known Marge's traps by then.     Marge exploded. I didn't get any supper, and she was still going strongat midnight. I tried to argue, but when Marge got going, there was nostopping her. I had my ultimatum, as far as Jeree was concerned.     Harry Folsom administered the      coup de grace     at coffee next morning.What you need is an Ego Prime, he said with a grin. Solve all yourproblems. I hear they work like a charm.     I set my coffee cup down. Bells were ringing in my ears. Don't beridiculous. It's against the law. Anyway, I wouldn't think of such athing. It's—it's indecent.     Harry shrugged. Just joking, old man, just joking. Still, it's fun tothink about, eh? Freedom from wife. Absolutely safe and harmless. Noteven too expensive, if you've got the right contacts. And I've got afriend who knows a guy—     Just then, Jeree walked past us and flashed me a big smile. I grippedmy cup for dear life and still spilled coffee on my tie.     As I said, a guy gets fed up.     And maybe opportunity would only knock once.     And an Ego Prime would solve all my problems, as Harry had told me.  <doc-sep>Practical androids had been a pipe dream until Hunyadi invented theNeuro-pantograph. Hunyadi had no idea in the world what to do with itonce he'd invented it, but a couple of enterprising engineers boughthim body and soul, sub-contracted the problems of anatomy, design,artistry, audio and visio circuitry, and so forth, and ended up withthe modern Ego Primes we have today.     I spent a busy two hours under the NP microprobes; the artists workedoutside while the NP technicians worked inside. I came out of it prettywoozy, but a shot of Happy-O set that straight. Then I waited in therecovery room for another two hours, dreaming up ways to use my Primewhen I got him. Finally the door opened and the head technician walkedin, followed by a tall, sandy-haired man with worried blue eyes and atired look on his face.       Meet George Faircloth Prime, the technician said, grinning at me likea nursing mother.     I shook hands with myself. Good firm handshake, I thought admiringly.Nothing flabby about it.     I slapped George Prime on the shoulder happily. Come on, Brother, Isaid. You've got a job to do.     But, secretly, I was wondering what Jeree was doing that night.     George Prime had remote controls, as well as a completely recordedneurological analogue of his boss, who was me. George Prime thoughtwhat I thought about the same things I did in the same way I did. Theonly difference was that what I told George Prime to do, George Primedid.     If I told him to go to a business conference in San Francisco and makethe smallest possible concessions for the largest possible orders,he would go there and do precisely that. His signature would be mysignature. It would hold up in court.     And if I told him that my wife Marge was really a sweet, good-heartedgirl and that he was to stay home and keep her quiet and happy any timeI chose, he'd do that, too.     George Prime was a duplicate of me right down to the sandy hairs onthe back of my hands. Our fingerprints were the same. We had the samemannerisms and used the same figures of speech. The only physicaldifference apparent even to an expert was the tiny finger-depressionburied in the hair above his ear. A little pressure there would stopGeorge Prime dead in his tracks.     He was so lifelike, even I kept forgetting that he was basically just apile of gears.     I'd planned very carefully how I meant to use him, of course.     Every man who's been married eight years has a sanctuary. He builds itup and maintains it against assault in the very teeth of his wife'snatural instinct to clean, poke, pry and rearrange things. Sometimesit takes him years of diligent work to establish his hideout and beconfident that it will stay inviolate, but if he starts early enough,and sticks with it long enough, and is fierce enough and persistentenough and crafty enough, he'll probably win in the end. The girls hatehim for it, but he'll win.     With some men, it's just a box on their dressers, or a desk, or acorner of an unused back room. But I had set my sights high early inthe game. With me, it was the whole workshop in the garage.  <doc-sep>It was one of those tiny foreign jobs that run on practically no gas atall. It stopped beside him and two men got out. Young men with lined,tired faces; they wore policemen's uniforms. You broke regulations,Mr. Burr. You'll have to come with us.     He nodded. He wanted to. He wanted to be taken care of. He turnedtoward Plum.     The other officer was walking around the horse. Rode her hard, hesaid, and he sounded real worried. Shouldn't have done that, Mr. Burr.We have so very few now....     The officer holding Harry's arm said, Pete.     The officer examining Plum said, It won't make any difference in awhile.     Harry looked at both of them, and felt sharp, personal fear.     Take the horse back to his farm, the officer holding Harry said. Heopened the door of the little car and pushed Harry inside. He wentaround to the driver's side and got behind the wheel and drove away.Harry looked back. Pete was leading Plum after them; not riding him,walking him. He sure must like horses, he said.     Yes.     Am I going to jail?     No.     Where then?     The doctor's place.     They stopped in front of the new house two miles past Dugan's farm.Except he'd never seen it before. Or had he? Everyone seemed to knowabout it—or was everyone only Edna and the Shanks?     He got out of the car. The officer took his arm and led him up thepath. Harry noticed that the new house was big.     When they came inside, he knew it wasn't like any house he'd ever seenor heard of. There was this long central passageway, and dozens ofdoors branched off it on both sides, and stairways went down from it inat least three places that he could see, and at the far end—a good twohundred yards away—a big ramp led upward. And it was all gray plasterwalls and dull black floors and cold white lighting, like a hospital,or a modern factory, or maybe a government building. Except that hedidn't see or hear people.     He did hear      something     ; a low, rumbling noise. The further they camealong the hall, the louder the rumbling grew. It seemed to be deep downsomewhere.  <doc-sep>Suddenly, he understood. And understanding brought not peace but thegreatest terror he'd ever known. He screamed, We're on.... but theswitch was thrown and there was no more speech. For an hour. Then hegot out of the chair and said, Sure glad I took my wife's advice andcame to see you, Doctor Hamming. I feel better already, and after onlyone.... What do you call these treatments?     Diathermy, the little doctor muttered.     Harry gave him a five-dollar bill. The doctor gave him two singles inchange. That's certainly reasonable enough, Harry said.     The doctor nodded. There's a police officer in the hall. He'll driveyou home so there won't be any trouble with the travel regulations.     Harry said, Thanks. Think we'll ever see the end of travel regulationsand rationing and all the rest of the emergency?     You will, Mr. Burr.     Harry walked to the door.     We're on an ark, the doctor said.     Harry turned around, smiling. What?     A test, Mr. Burr. You passed it. Goodbye.     Harry went home. He told Edna he felt just great! She said she'd beenworried when an officer found Plum wandering on the road; she thoughtmaybe Harry had gone off somewhere and broken travel regulations.     Me? he exclaimed, amazed. Break travel regulations? I'd as soon killa pig!   <doc-sep>Needless to say, the affairs of George Faircloth took on a new sparklewith George Prime on hand to cover the home front.     For the first week, I was hardly home at all. I must say I felt alittle guilty, leaving poor old George Prime to cope with Marge allthe time—he looked and acted so human, it was easy to forget thathe literally couldn't care less. But I felt apologetic all the samewhenever I took him out of his closet.     She's really a sweet girl underneath it all, I'd say. You'll learnto like her after a bit.     Of course I like her, George Prime said. You told me to, didn't you?Stop worrying. She's really a sweet girl underneath it all.     He sounded convincing enough, but still it bothered me. You're sureyou understand the exchange mechanism? I asked. I didn't want anyfoul-ups there, as you can imagine.     Perfectly, said George Prime. When you buzz the recall, I wait forthe first logical opportunity I can find to come out to the workshop,and you take over.     But you might get nervous. You might inadvertently tip her off.     George Prime looked pained. Really, old man! I'm a Super Deluxe model,remember? I don't have fourteen activated Hunyadi tubes up in thiscranial vault of mine just for nothing. You're the one that's nervous.I'll take care of everything. Relax.     So I did.     Jeree made good all her tacit promises and then some. She had a verycozy little apartment on 34th Street where we went to relax aftera hard day at the office. When we weren't doing the town, that is.As long as Jeree didn't try too much conversation, everything waswonderful.     And then, when Jeree got a little boring, there was Sybil in theaccounting department. Or Dorothy in promotion. Or Jane. Or Ingrid.     I could go on at some length, but I won't. I was building quite areputation for myself around the office.     Of course, it was like buying your first 3-V set. In a week or so, thenovelty wears off a little and you start eating on schedule again. Ittook a little while, but I finally had things down to a reasonableprogram.     Tuesday and Thursday nights, I was informally out while formallyin. Sometimes I took Sunday nights out if things got too stickyaround the house over the weekend. The rest of the time, George Primecooled his heels in his closet. Locked up, of course. Can't completelytrust a wife to observe a taboo, no matter how well trained she is.     There, was an irreconcilable amount of risk. George Prime had toquick-step some questions about my work at the office—there was noway to supply him with current data until the time for his regulartwo-month refill and pattern-accommodation at the laboratory. In themeantime, George Prime had to make do with what he had.     But as he himself pointed out he was a Super Deluxe model.  <doc-sep>   PRIME DIFFERENCE     By ALAN E. NOURSE     Illustrated by SCHOENHEER     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction June 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Being two men rolled out of one would solve       my problems—but which one would I be?        I suppose that every guy reaches a point once in his lifetime when hegets one hundred and forty per cent fed up with his wife.     Understand now—I've got nothing against marriage or any thinglike that. Marriage is great. It's a good old red-blooded AmericanInstitution. Except that it's got one defect in it big enough to throwa cat through, especially when you happen to be married to a womanlike Marge—     It's so      permanent     .     Oh, I'd have divorced Marge in a minute if we'd been living in theBlissful 'Fifties—but with the Family Solidarity Amendment of 1968,and all the divorce taxes we have these days since the women gottheir teeth into politics, to say nothing of the Aggrieved SpouseCompensation Act, I'd have been a pauper for the rest of my life ifI'd tried it. That's aside from the social repercussions involved.     You can't really blame me for looking for another way out. But a manhas to be desperate to try to buy himself an Ego Prime.     So, all right, I was desperate. I'd spent eight years trying to keepMarge happy, which was exactly seven and a half years too long.     Marge was a dream to look at, with her tawny hair and her sulky eyesand a shape that could set your teeth chattering—but that was wherethe dream stopped.     She had a tongue like a #10 wood rasp and a list of grievances longenough to paper the bedroom wall. When she wasn't complaining, she wascrying, and when she wasn't crying, she was pointing out in chillingdetail exactly where George Faircloth fell short as a model husband,which happened to be everywhere. Half of the time she had a beastlyheadache (for which I was personally responsible) and the other halfshe was sore about something, so ninety-nine per cent of the time wegot along like a couple of tomcats in a packing case.  <doc-sep>I dashed into the workshop and punched the recall button as hard as Icould, swearing under my breath. How long had this been going on? Ipunched the button again, viciously, and waited.     George Prime didn't come out.     It was plenty cold out in the workshop that night and I didn't sleepa wink. About dawn, out came George Prime, looking like a man with afour-day hangover.     Our conversation got down to fundamentals. George Prime kept insistingblandly that, according to my own directions, he was to pick the firstlogical opportunity to come out when I buzzed, and that was exactlywhat he'd done.     I was furious all the way to work. I'd take care of this nonsense, allright. I'd have George Prime rewired from top to bottom as soon as thelaboratory could take him.     But I never phoned the laboratory. The bank was calling me when I gotto the office. They wanted to know what I planned to do about thatcheck of mine that had just bounced.     What check? I asked.     The one you wrote to cash yesterday—five hundred dollars—againstyour regular account, Mr. Faircloth.     The last I'd looked, I'd had about three thousand dollars in thataccount. I told the man so rather bluntly.     Oh, no, sir. That is, you      did     until last week. But all these checksyou've been cashing have emptied the account.     He flashed the checks on the desk screen. My signature was on every oneof them.     What about my special account? I'd learned long before that anaccount Marge didn't know about was sound rear-guard strategy.     That's been closed out for two weeks.     I hadn't written a check against that account for over a year! I glaredat the ceiling and tried to think things through.     I came up with a horrible thought.     Marge had always had her heart set on a trip to Bermuda. Just to getaway from it all, she'd say. A second honeymoon.     I got a list of travel agencies from the business directory and starteddown them. The third one I tried had a pleasant tenor voice. No, sir,not      Mrs.     Faircloth.      You     bought two tickets. One way. Champagneflight to Bermuda.     When? I choked out.     Why, today, as a matter of fact. It leaves Idlewild at eleveno'clock—     I let him worry about my amnesia and started home fast. I didn't knowwhat they'd given that Prime for circuits, but there was no questionnow that he was out of control—      way     out of control. And poor Marge,all worked up for a second honeymoon—     Then it struck me. Poor Marge? Poor sucker George! No Prime in hisright circuits would behave this way without some human guidance andthat meant only one thing: Marge had spotted him. It had happenedbefore. Couple of nasty court battles I'd read about. And she'd knownall about George Prime.       For how long?    <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the significance of Harry Folsom in the narrative of PRIME DIFFERENCE?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in GROWING UP ON BIG MUDDY? [SEP] <s>   Well, naturally Kaiser would transmit baby     talk messages to his mother ship! He was—     GROWING UP ON BIG MUDDY     By CHARLES V. DE VET     Illustrated by TURPIN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction July 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Kaiser stared at the tape in his hand for a long uncomprehendingminute. How long had the stuff been coming through in this inane babytalk? And why hadn't he noticed it before? Why had he had to read thislast communication a third time before he recognized anything unusualabout it?     He went over the words again, as though maybe this time they'd read asthey should.     OO IS SICK, SMOKY. DO TO BEDDY-BY. KEEP UM WARM. WHEN UM FEELS BETTER,LET USNS KNOW.     SS II     Kaiser let himself ease back in the pilot chair and rolled the tapethoughtfully between his fingers. Overhead and to each side, largedrops of rain thudded softly against the transparent walls of the scoutship and dripped wearily from the bottom ledge to the ground.     Damn this climate! Kaiser muttered irrelevantly. Doesn't it ever doanything here except rain?     His attention returned to the matter at hand. Why the baby talk? Andwhy was his memory so hazy? How long had he been here? What had he beendoing during that time?     Listlessly he reached for the towel at his elbow and wiped the moisturefrom his face and bare shoulders. The air conditioning had gone outwhen the scout ship cracked up. He'd have to repair the scout or hewas stuck here for good. He remembered now that he had gone over thejob very carefully and thoroughly, and had found it too big to handlealone—or without better equipment, at least. Yet there was little orno chance of his being able to find either here.     Calmly, deliberately, Kaiser collected his thoughts, his memories, andbrought them out where he could look at them:     The mother ship,      Soscites II     , had been on the last leg of itsplanet-mapping tour. It had dropped Kaiser in the one remaining scoutship—the other seven had all been lost one way or another during theexploring of new worlds—and set itself into a giant orbit about thisplanet that Kaiser had named Big Muddy.     The      Soscites II     had to maintain its constant speed; it had no meansof slowing, except to stop, and no way to start again once it did stop.Its limited range of maneuverability made it necessary to set up anorbit that would take it approximately one month, Earth time, to circlea pinpointed planet. And now its fuel was low.     Kaiser had that one month to repair his scout or be stranded hereforever.     That was all he could remember. Nothing of what he had been doingrecently.     A small shiver passed through his body as he glanced once again at thetape in his hand. Baby talk....  <doc-sep>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>Kaiser came wide awake in a cold sweat. The clock showed that only anhour had passed since he had sent his last message to the ship. Stillfive more long hours to wait. He rose and wiped the sweat from his neckand shoulders and restlessly paced the small corridor of the scout.     After a few minutes, he stopped pacing and peered out into the gloom ofBig Muddy. The rain seemed to have eased off some. Not much more than aheavy drizzle now.     Kaiser reached impulsively for the slicker he had thrown over a chestagainst one wall and put it on, then a pair of hip-high plastic bootsand a plastic hat. He opened the door. The scout had come to rest witha slight tilt when it crashed, and Kaiser had to sit down and rollover onto his stomach to ease himself to the ground.     The weather outside was normal for Big Muddy: wet, humid, and warm.     Kaiser sank to his ankles in soft mud before his feet reached solidground. He half walked and half slid to the rear of the scout. Besidethe ship, the octopus was busily at work. Tentacles and antennae,extending from the yard-high box of its body, tested and recordedtemperature, atmosphere, soil, and all other pertinent planetaryconditions. The octopus was connected to the ship's communicator andall its findings were being transmitted to the mother ship for study.     Kaiser observed that it was working well and turned toward a wide,sluggish river, perhaps two hundred yards from the scout. Once there,he headed upstream. He could hear the pipings, and now and then ahigher whistling, of the seal-people before he reached a bend and sawthem. As usual, most were swimming in the river.       One old fellow, whose chocolate-brown fur showed a heavy intermixtureof gray, was sitting on the bank of the river just at the bend. Perhapsa lookout. He pulled himself to his feet as he spied Kaiser and histoothless, hard-gummed mouth opened and emitted a long whistle thatmight have been a greeting—or a warning to the others that a strangerapproached.     The native stood perhaps five feet tall, with the heavy, blubberybody of a seal, and short, thick arms. Membranes connected the armsto his body from shoulder-pits to mid-biceps. The arms ended inthree-fingered, thumbless hands. His legs also were short and thick,with footpads that splayed out at forty-five-degree angles. They gavehis legs the appearance of a split tail. About him hung a rank-fishsmell that made Kaiser's stomach squirm.     The old fellow sounded a cheerful chirp as Kaiser came near. Feelingslightly ineffectual, Kaiser raised both hands and held them palmforward. The other chirped again and Kaiser went on toward the maingroup.  <doc-sep>As if to provide an example, a figure suddenly materialized ontheir side of the bubble. The wolflike dogs bared their fangs. Foran instant, there was only an eerie, distorted, rapidly growingsilhouette, changing from blood-red to black as the boundary of thebubble cross-sectioned the intruding figure. Then they recognized theback of another long-haired warrior and realized that the audience onthe other side of the bubble had probably seen him approaching for sometime.     He bowed to the hooded figure and handed him a small bag.     More atavistic cubs, big and little! Hold still, Cynthia, a new voicecut in.     Hal turned and saw that two cold-eyed girls had been ushered into thecubicle. One was wiping her close-cropped hair with one hand whilemopping a green stain from her friend's back with the other.     Hal nudged Joggy and whispered: Butch!     But Joggy was still hypnotized by the Time Bubble.     Then how is it, Hal, he asked, that light comes out of the bubble,if the people don't? What I mean is, if one of the people walks towardus, he shrinks to a red blot and disappears. Why doesn't the lightcoming our way disappear, too?     Well—you see, Joggy, it isn't real light. It's—     Once more the interpreter helped him out.     The light that comes from the bubble is an isotope. Like atoms ofone element, photons of a single frequency also have isotopes. It'smore than a matter of polarization. One of these isotopes of lighttends to leak futureward through holes in space-time. Most of thelight goes down the vistas visible to the other side of the audience.But one isotope is diverted through the walls of the bubble into theTime Theater. Perhaps, because of the intense darkness of the theater,you haven't realized how dimly lit the scene is. That's because we'regetting only a single isotope of the original light. Incidentally, noisotopes have been discovered that leak pastward, though attempts arebeing made to synthesize them.     Oh, explanations! murmured one of the newly arrived girls. The cubsare always angling for them. Apple-polishers!           I     like this show, a familiar voice announced serenely. They cutanybody yet with those choppers?     Hal looked down beside him. Butch! How did you manage to get in?     I don't see any blood. Where's the bodies?     But how      did     you get in—Butcher?  <doc-sep>Moving quickly to the door of the scout, he shoved his equipmentthrough and crawled in behind it. He did not consult the communicator,as he customarily did on entering, but went directly to the warpedplace on the floor and picked up the crowbar he had laid there.     Inserting the bar between the metal of the scout bottom and the enginecasing, he lifted. Nothing happened. He rested a minute and triedagain, this time concentrating on his desire to raise the bar. Themetal beneath yielded slightly—but he felt the palms of his handsbruise against the lever.     Only after he dropped the bar did he realize the force he had exerted.His hands ached and tingled. His strength must have been increasedtremendously. With his plastic coat wrapped around the lever, he triedagain. The metal of the scout bottom gave slowly—until the fuel pumphung free!     Kaiser did not repair the tube immediately. He let the solutionrest in his hands, like a package to be opened, the pleasure of itsanticipation to be enjoyed as much as the final act.     He transmitted the news of what he had been able to do and sat down toread the two messages waiting for him.     The first was quite routine:     REPORTS FROM THE OCTOPUS INDICATE THAT BIG MUDDY UNDERGOES RADICALWEATHER-CYCLE CHANGES DURING SPRING AND FALL SEASONS, FROM EXTREMEMOISTURE TO EXTREME ARIDITY. AT HEIGHT OF DRY SEASON, PLANET MUST BECOMPLETELY DEVOID OF SURFACE LIQUID.     TO SURVIVE THESE UNUSUAL EXTREMES, SEAL-PEOPLE WOULD NEED EXTREMEADAPTABILITY. THIS VERIFIES OUR EARLIER GUESS THAT NATIVES HAVESYMBIOSIS WITH THE SAME VIRUS FORM THAT INVADED YOU. WITH SYMBIOTES'AID, SUCH RADICAL PHYSICAL CHANGE COULD BE POSSIBLE. WILL KEEP YOUINFORMED.     GIVE US ANY NEW INFORMATION YOU MIGHT HAVE ON NATIVES.     SS II     The second report was not so routine. Kaiser thought he detected a noteof uneasiness in it.     SUGGEST YOU DEVOTE ALL TIME AND EFFORT TO REPAIR OF SCOUT. INFORMATIONON SEAL-PEOPLE ADEQUATE FOR OUR PURPOSES.     SS II     Kaiser did not answer either communication. His earlier report hadcovered all that he had learned lately. He lay on his cot and went tosleep.     In the morning, another message was waiting:     VERY PLEASED TO HEAR OF PROGRESS ON REPAIR OF SCOUT. COMPLETE ASQUICKLY AS POSSIBLE AND RETURN HERE IMMEDIATELY.     SS II  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>  Mr. Dawes  came home anhour later, looking tired.Mom pecked him lightly onthe forehead. He glanced atthe evening paper, and thenspoke to Sol.     Hear you been askingquestions, Mr. Becker.     Sol nodded, embarrassed.Guess I have. I'm awfullycurious about this Armagonplace. Never heard of anythinglike it before.     Dawes grunted. You ain'ta reporter?     Oh, no. I'm an engineer. Iwas just satisfying my owncuriosity.     Uh-huh. Dawes lookedreflective. You wouldn't bethinkin' about writing us upor anything. I mean, this is apretty private affair.     Writing it up? Solblinked. I hadn't thought ofit. But you'll have to admit—it'ssure interesting.     Yeah, Dawes said narrowly.I guess it would be.     Supper! Mom called.     After the meal, they spenta quiet evening at home. Sallywent to bed, screaming herreluctance, at eight-thirty.Mom, dozing in the big chairnear the fireplace, padded upstairsat nine. Then Dawesyawned widely, stood up, andsaid goodnight at quarter-of-ten.     He paused in the doorwaybefore leaving.     I'd think about that, hesaid. Writing it up, I mean.A lot of folks would thinkyou were just plum crazy.     Sol laughed feebly. Iguess they would at that.     Goodnight, Dawes said.     Goodnight.     He read Sally's copy of      Treasure Island     for abouthalf an hour. Then he undressed,made himself comfortableon the sofa, snuggledunder the soft blanketthat Mom had provided, andshut his eyes.     He reviewed the events ofthe day before dropping offto sleep. The troublesomeSally. The strange dreamworld of Armagon. The visitto the barber shop. The removalof Brundage's body.The conversations with thetownspeople. Dawes' suspiciousattitude ...     Then sleep came. <doc-sep>   HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS     By JIM HARMON     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Every lonely man tries to make friends.     Manet just didn't know when to stop!      William Manet was alone.     In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It wouldgive him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlateloneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take himto start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to beginteaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminablelectures to a bored and captive audience of one.     He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whetherit was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and asdirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal andthink more like a god than any man for generations.     But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearingbore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.     Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was alreadytalking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he hadcut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up andwinked at it whenever he passed that way.     Lately she was winking back at him.     Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh fromhis arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.     No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manetcould only be this lonely on Mars.     Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.     All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middleof the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat,flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in theblack sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moonsand one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The wholegimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one wasneeded here—no human being, at least.     The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn'ttake much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefullyspecified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycombMars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.     They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated peoplefor the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going toisolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manetand his fellows.     The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fareto Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuterservice for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodationsfor couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren'tproviding fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits betweenthe various Overseers. They weren't very providential.     But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offeredwonderful opportunities.     It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship makinga tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning asbright as envy.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in GROWING UP ON BIG MUDDY?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the backdrop of the story ""Growing Up on Big Muddy""? [SEP] <s>   Well, naturally Kaiser would transmit baby     talk messages to his mother ship! He was—     GROWING UP ON BIG MUDDY     By CHARLES V. DE VET     Illustrated by TURPIN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction July 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Kaiser stared at the tape in his hand for a long uncomprehendingminute. How long had the stuff been coming through in this inane babytalk? And why hadn't he noticed it before? Why had he had to read thislast communication a third time before he recognized anything unusualabout it?     He went over the words again, as though maybe this time they'd read asthey should.     OO IS SICK, SMOKY. DO TO BEDDY-BY. KEEP UM WARM. WHEN UM FEELS BETTER,LET USNS KNOW.     SS II     Kaiser let himself ease back in the pilot chair and rolled the tapethoughtfully between his fingers. Overhead and to each side, largedrops of rain thudded softly against the transparent walls of the scoutship and dripped wearily from the bottom ledge to the ground.     Damn this climate! Kaiser muttered irrelevantly. Doesn't it ever doanything here except rain?     His attention returned to the matter at hand. Why the baby talk? Andwhy was his memory so hazy? How long had he been here? What had he beendoing during that time?     Listlessly he reached for the towel at his elbow and wiped the moisturefrom his face and bare shoulders. The air conditioning had gone outwhen the scout ship cracked up. He'd have to repair the scout or hewas stuck here for good. He remembered now that he had gone over thejob very carefully and thoroughly, and had found it too big to handlealone—or without better equipment, at least. Yet there was little orno chance of his being able to find either here.     Calmly, deliberately, Kaiser collected his thoughts, his memories, andbrought them out where he could look at them:     The mother ship,      Soscites II     , had been on the last leg of itsplanet-mapping tour. It had dropped Kaiser in the one remaining scoutship—the other seven had all been lost one way or another during theexploring of new worlds—and set itself into a giant orbit about thisplanet that Kaiser had named Big Muddy.     The      Soscites II     had to maintain its constant speed; it had no meansof slowing, except to stop, and no way to start again once it did stop.Its limited range of maneuverability made it necessary to set up anorbit that would take it approximately one month, Earth time, to circlea pinpointed planet. And now its fuel was low.     Kaiser had that one month to repair his scout or be stranded hereforever.     That was all he could remember. Nothing of what he had been doingrecently.     A small shiver passed through his body as he glanced once again at thetape in his hand. Baby talk....  <doc-sep>Kaiser came wide awake in a cold sweat. The clock showed that only anhour had passed since he had sent his last message to the ship. Stillfive more long hours to wait. He rose and wiped the sweat from his neckand shoulders and restlessly paced the small corridor of the scout.     After a few minutes, he stopped pacing and peered out into the gloom ofBig Muddy. The rain seemed to have eased off some. Not much more than aheavy drizzle now.     Kaiser reached impulsively for the slicker he had thrown over a chestagainst one wall and put it on, then a pair of hip-high plastic bootsand a plastic hat. He opened the door. The scout had come to rest witha slight tilt when it crashed, and Kaiser had to sit down and rollover onto his stomach to ease himself to the ground.     The weather outside was normal for Big Muddy: wet, humid, and warm.     Kaiser sank to his ankles in soft mud before his feet reached solidground. He half walked and half slid to the rear of the scout. Besidethe ship, the octopus was busily at work. Tentacles and antennae,extending from the yard-high box of its body, tested and recordedtemperature, atmosphere, soil, and all other pertinent planetaryconditions. The octopus was connected to the ship's communicator andall its findings were being transmitted to the mother ship for study.     Kaiser observed that it was working well and turned toward a wide,sluggish river, perhaps two hundred yards from the scout. Once there,he headed upstream. He could hear the pipings, and now and then ahigher whistling, of the seal-people before he reached a bend and sawthem. As usual, most were swimming in the river.       One old fellow, whose chocolate-brown fur showed a heavy intermixtureof gray, was sitting on the bank of the river just at the bend. Perhapsa lookout. He pulled himself to his feet as he spied Kaiser and histoothless, hard-gummed mouth opened and emitted a long whistle thatmight have been a greeting—or a warning to the others that a strangerapproached.     The native stood perhaps five feet tall, with the heavy, blubberybody of a seal, and short, thick arms. Membranes connected the armsto his body from shoulder-pits to mid-biceps. The arms ended inthree-fingered, thumbless hands. His legs also were short and thick,with footpads that splayed out at forty-five-degree angles. They gavehis legs the appearance of a split tail. About him hung a rank-fishsmell that made Kaiser's stomach squirm.     The old fellow sounded a cheerful chirp as Kaiser came near. Feelingslightly ineffectual, Kaiser raised both hands and held them palmforward. The other chirped again and Kaiser went on toward the maingroup.  <doc-sep>  THE GIANTS RETURN     By ROBERT ABERNATHY     Earth set itself grimly to meet them with     corrosive fire, determined to blast them     back to the stars. But they erred in thinking     the Old Ones were too big to be clever.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      In the last hours the star ahead had grown brighter by many magnitudes,and had changed its color from a dazzling blue through white to thenormal yellow, of a GO sun. That was the Doppler effect as the star'sradial velocity changed relative to the      Quest III     , as for forty hoursthe ship had decelerated.     They had seen many such stars come near out of the galaxy's glitteringbackdrop, and had seen them dwindle, turn red and go out as the      QuestIII     drove on its way once more, lashed by despair toward the speed oflight, leaving behind the mockery of yet another solitary and lifelessluminary unaccompanied by worlds where men might dwell. They had grownsated with the sight of wonders—of multiple systems of giant stars, ofnebulae that sprawled in empty flame across light years.     But now unwonted excitement possessed the hundred-odd members of the      Quest III's     crew. It was a subdued excitement; men and women, theycame and stood quietly gazing into the big vision screens that showedthe oncoming star, and there were wide-eyed children who had been bornin the ship and had never seen a planet. The grownups talked in lowvoices, in tones of mingled eagerness and apprehension, of what mightlie at the long journey's end. For the      Quest III     was coming home; thesun ahead was      the     Sun, whose rays had warmed their lives' beginning.  <doc-sep>Moving quickly to the door of the scout, he shoved his equipmentthrough and crawled in behind it. He did not consult the communicator,as he customarily did on entering, but went directly to the warpedplace on the floor and picked up the crowbar he had laid there.     Inserting the bar between the metal of the scout bottom and the enginecasing, he lifted. Nothing happened. He rested a minute and triedagain, this time concentrating on his desire to raise the bar. Themetal beneath yielded slightly—but he felt the palms of his handsbruise against the lever.     Only after he dropped the bar did he realize the force he had exerted.His hands ached and tingled. His strength must have been increasedtremendously. With his plastic coat wrapped around the lever, he triedagain. The metal of the scout bottom gave slowly—until the fuel pumphung free!     Kaiser did not repair the tube immediately. He let the solutionrest in his hands, like a package to be opened, the pleasure of itsanticipation to be enjoyed as much as the final act.     He transmitted the news of what he had been able to do and sat down toread the two messages waiting for him.     The first was quite routine:     REPORTS FROM THE OCTOPUS INDICATE THAT BIG MUDDY UNDERGOES RADICALWEATHER-CYCLE CHANGES DURING SPRING AND FALL SEASONS, FROM EXTREMEMOISTURE TO EXTREME ARIDITY. AT HEIGHT OF DRY SEASON, PLANET MUST BECOMPLETELY DEVOID OF SURFACE LIQUID.     TO SURVIVE THESE UNUSUAL EXTREMES, SEAL-PEOPLE WOULD NEED EXTREMEADAPTABILITY. THIS VERIFIES OUR EARLIER GUESS THAT NATIVES HAVESYMBIOSIS WITH THE SAME VIRUS FORM THAT INVADED YOU. WITH SYMBIOTES'AID, SUCH RADICAL PHYSICAL CHANGE COULD BE POSSIBLE. WILL KEEP YOUINFORMED.     GIVE US ANY NEW INFORMATION YOU MIGHT HAVE ON NATIVES.     SS II     The second report was not so routine. Kaiser thought he detected a noteof uneasiness in it.     SUGGEST YOU DEVOTE ALL TIME AND EFFORT TO REPAIR OF SCOUT. INFORMATIONON SEAL-PEOPLE ADEQUATE FOR OUR PURPOSES.     SS II     Kaiser did not answer either communication. His earlier report hadcovered all that he had learned lately. He lay on his cot and went tosleep.     In the morning, another message was waiting:     VERY PLEASED TO HEAR OF PROGRESS ON REPAIR OF SCOUT. COMPLETE ASQUICKLY AS POSSIBLE AND RETURN HERE IMMEDIATELY.     SS II  <doc-sep>Bob Parker came to, the emptiness of remote starlight in his face. Heopened his eyes. He was slowly revolving on an axis. Sometimes the Sunswept across his line of vision. A cold hammering began at the base ofhis skull, a sensation similar to that of being buried alive. There wasno asteroid, no girl, no Queazy. He was alone in the vastness of space.Alone in a space-suit.     Queazy! he whispered. Queazy! I'm running out of air!     There was no answer from Queazy. With sick eyes, Bob studied theoxygen indicator. There was only five pounds pressure. Five pounds!That meant he had been floating around out here—how long? Days atleast—maybe weeks! It was evident that somebody had given him a doseof spastic rays, enough to screw up every muscle in his body to thesnapping point, putting him in such a condition of suspended animationthat his oxygen needs were small. He closed his eyes, trying to fightagainst panic. He was glad he couldn't see any part of his body. He wasprobably scrawny. And he was hungry!     I'll starve, he thought. Or suffocate to death first!     He couldn't keep himself from taking in great gulps of air. Minutes,then hours passed. He was breathing abnormally, and there wasn't enoughair in the first place. He pleaded continually for Queazy, hopingthat somehow Queazy could help, when probably Queazy was in the samecondition. He ripped out wild curses directed at the Saylor brothers.Murderers, both of them! Up until this time, he had merely thought ofthem as business rivals. If he ever got out of this—     He groaned. He never would get out of it! After another hour, he wasgasping weakly, and yellow spots danced in his eyes. He called Queazy'sname once more, knowing that was the last time he would have strengthto call it.     And this time the headset spoke back!     Bob Parker made a gurgling sound. A voice came again, washed withstatic, far away, burbling, but excited. Bob made a rattling sound inhis throat. Then his eyes started to close, but he imagined that he sawa ship, shiny and small, driving toward him, growing in size againstthe backdrop of the Milky Way. He relapsed, a terrific buzzing in hisears.     He did not lose consciousness. He heard voices, Queazy's and thegirl's, whoever she was. Somebody grabbed hold of his foot. Hisaquarium was unbuckled and good air washed over his streaming face.The sudden rush of oxygen to his brain dizzied him. Then he was lyingon a bunk, and gradually the world beyond his sick body focussed in hisclearing eyes and he knew he was alive—and going to stay that way, forawhile anyway.     Thanks, Queazy, he said huskily.     Queazy was bending over him, his anxiety clearing away from hissuddenly brightening face.     Don't thank me, he whispered. We'd have both been goners if ithadn't been for her. The Saylor brothers left her paralyzed likeus, and when she woke up she was on a slow orbit around her ship.She unstrapped her holster and threw it away from her and it gaveher enough reaction to reach the ship. She got inside and used thedirection-finder on the telaudio and located me first. The Saylorsscattered us far and wide. Queazy's broad, normally good-humored facetwisted blackly. The so and so's didn't care if we lived or died.     Bob saw the girl now, standing a little behind Queazy, looking down athim curiously, but unhappily. Her space-suit was off. She was wearinglightly striped blue slacks and blue silk blouse and she had a paperflower in her hair. Something in Bob's stomach caved in as his eyeswidened on her.     The girl said glumly, I guess you men won't much care for me when youfind out who I am and what I've done. I'm Starre Lowenthal—Andrew S.Burnside's granddaughter!  <doc-sep>   The Sense of Wonder     By MILTON LESSER     Illustrated by HARRY ROSENBAUM     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      When nobody aboard ship remembers where it's     going, how can they tell when it has arrived?      Every day for a week now, Rikud had come to the viewport to watchthe great changeless sweep of space. He could not quite explain thefeelings within him; they were so alien, so unnatural. But ever sincethe engines somewhere in the rear of the world had changed their tone,from the steady whining Rikud had heard all twenty-five years of hislife, to the sullen roar that came to his ears now, the feelings hadgrown.     If anyone else had noticed the change, he failed to mention it. Thisdisturbed Rikud, although he could not tell why. And, because he hadrealized this odd difference in himself, he kept it locked up insidehim.     Today, space looked somehow different. The stars—it was a meaninglessconcept to Rikud, but that was what everyone called the brightpinpoints of light on the black backdrop in the viewport—were notapparent in the speckled profusion Rikud had always known. Instead,there was more of the blackness, and one very bright star set apartby itself in the middle of the viewport.     If he had understood the term, Rikud would have told himself this wasodd. His head ached with the half-born thought. It was—it was—whatwas it?     Someone was clomping up the companionway behind Rikud. He turned andgreeted gray-haired old Chuls.     In five more years, the older man chided, you'll be ready to sirechildren. And all you can do in the meantime is gaze out at the stars.     Rikud knew he should be exercising now, or bathing in the rays of thehealth-lamps. It had never occurred to him that he didn't feel like it;he just didn't, without comprehending.     Chuls' reminder fostered uneasiness. Often Rikud had dreamed of thetime he would be thirty and a father. Whom would the Calculator selectas his mate? The first time this idea had occurred to him, Rikudignored it. But it came again, and each time it left him with a feelinghe could not explain. Why should he think thoughts that no other manhad? Why should he think he was thinking such thoughts, when it alwaysembroiled him in a hopeless, infinite confusion that left him with aheadache?     Chuls said, It is time for my bath in the health-rays. I saw you hereand knew it was your time, too....     His voice trailed off. Rikud knew that something which he could notexplain had entered the elder man's head for a moment, but it haddeparted almost before Chuls knew of its existence.     I'll go with you, Rikud told him.  <doc-sep>They were at the watering hole—Extrone, Lin, two bearers, and Ri.     Since the hole was drying, the left, partially exposed bank was steeptoward the muddy water. Upon it was green, new grass, tender-tuffed,half mashed in places by heavy animal treads. It was there that theystaked him out, tying the free end of the rope tightly around the baseof a scaling tree.     You will scream, Extrone instructed. With his rifle, he pointedacross the water hole. The farn beast will come from this direction, Iimagine.     Ri was almost slobbering in fear.     Let me hear you scream, Extrone said.     Ri moaned weakly.     You'll have to do better than that. Extrone inclined his head towarda bearer, who used something Ri couldn't see.       Ri screamed.     See that you keep it up that way, Extrone said. That's the way Iwant you to sound. He turned toward Lin. We can climb this tree, Ithink.     Slowly, aided by the bearers, the two men climbed the tree, barkpeeling away from under their rough boots. Ri watched them hopelessly.     Once at the crotch, Extrone settled down, holding the rifle at alert.Lin moved to the left, out on the main branch, rested in a smallercrotch.     Looking down, Extrone said, Scream! Then, to Lin, You feel theexcitement? It's always in the air like this at a hunt.     I feel it, Lin said.     Extrone chuckled. You were with me on Meizque?     Yes.     That was something, that time. He ran his hand along the stock of theweapon.     The sun headed west, veiling itself with trees; a large insect circledExtrone's head. He slapped at it, angry. The forest was quiet,underlined by an occasional piping call, something like a whistle. Ri'sscreams were shrill, echoing away, shiveringly. Lin sat quiet, hunched.     Extrone's eyes narrowed, and he began to pet the gun stock with quick,jerky movements. Lin licked his lips, keeping his eyes on Extrone'sface. The sun seemed stuck in the sky, and the heat squeezed againstthem, sucking at their breath like a vacuum. The insect went away.Still, endless, hopeless, monotonous, Ri screamed.  <doc-sep>In the evening a girl brought Maitland his meal. As the door slidaside, he automatically stood up, and they stared at each other forseveral seconds.     She had the high cheekbones and almond eyes of an Oriental, skin thatglowed like gold in the evening light, yet thick coiled braids ofblonde hair that glittered like polished brass. Shorts and a sleevelessblouse of some thick, reddish, metallic-looking fabric clung to herbody, and over that she was wearing a light, ankle-length cloak of whatseemed to be white wool.     She was looking at him with palpable curiosity and something likeexpectancy. Maitland sighed and said, Hello, then glanced downself-consciously at his wrinkled green pajamas.       She smiled, put the tray of food on the table, and swept out, her cloakbillowing behind her. Maitland remained standing, staring at the closeddoor for a minute after she was gone.     Later, when he had finished the steak and corn on the cob and shreddedcarrots, and a feeling of warm well-being was diffusing from hisstomach to his extremities, he sat down on the bed to watch the sunsetand to think.     There were three questions for which he required answers before hecould formulate any plan or policy.     Where was he?     Who was Swarts?     What was the purpose of the tests he was being given?     It was possible, of course, that this was all an elaborate schemefor getting military secrets, despite Swarts' protestations to thecontrary. Maitland frowned. This place certainly didn't have theappearance of a military establishment, and so far there had beennothing to suggest the kind of interrogation to be expected fromforeign intelligence officers.     It might be better to tackle the first question first. He looked atthe Sun, a red spheroid already half below the horizon, and tried tothink of a region that had this kind of terrain. That prairie out therewas unique. Almost anywhere in the world, land like that would becultivated, not allowed to go to grass.     This might be somewhere in Africa....     He shook his head, puzzled. The Sun disappeared and its blood-huedglow began to fade from the sky. Maitland sat there, trying to gethold of the problem from an angle where it wouldn't just slip away.After a while the western sky became a screen of clear luminous blue,a backdrop for a pure white brilliant star. As always at that sight,Maitland felt his worry drain away, leaving an almost mystical sense ofpeace and an undefinable longing.     Venus, the most beautiful of the planets.     Maitland kept track of them all in their majestic paths through theconstellations, but Venus was his favorite. Time and time again hehad watched its steady climb higher and higher in the western sky,its transient rule there as evening star, its progression toward thehorizon, and loved it equally in its      alter ego     of morning star. Venuswas an old friend. An old friend....     Something icy settled on the back of his neck, ran down his spine, anddiffused into his body. He stared at the planet unbelievingly, fistsclenched, forgetting to breathe.     Last night Venus hadn't been there.     Venus was a morning star just now....       Just now!       He realized the truth in that moment.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the backdrop of the story ""Growing Up on Big Muddy""?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What role do the seal-people play in the story of GROWING UP ON BIG MUDDY? [SEP] <s>Moving quickly to the door of the scout, he shoved his equipmentthrough and crawled in behind it. He did not consult the communicator,as he customarily did on entering, but went directly to the warpedplace on the floor and picked up the crowbar he had laid there.     Inserting the bar between the metal of the scout bottom and the enginecasing, he lifted. Nothing happened. He rested a minute and triedagain, this time concentrating on his desire to raise the bar. Themetal beneath yielded slightly—but he felt the palms of his handsbruise against the lever.     Only after he dropped the bar did he realize the force he had exerted.His hands ached and tingled. His strength must have been increasedtremendously. With his plastic coat wrapped around the lever, he triedagain. The metal of the scout bottom gave slowly—until the fuel pumphung free!     Kaiser did not repair the tube immediately. He let the solutionrest in his hands, like a package to be opened, the pleasure of itsanticipation to be enjoyed as much as the final act.     He transmitted the news of what he had been able to do and sat down toread the two messages waiting for him.     The first was quite routine:     REPORTS FROM THE OCTOPUS INDICATE THAT BIG MUDDY UNDERGOES RADICALWEATHER-CYCLE CHANGES DURING SPRING AND FALL SEASONS, FROM EXTREMEMOISTURE TO EXTREME ARIDITY. AT HEIGHT OF DRY SEASON, PLANET MUST BECOMPLETELY DEVOID OF SURFACE LIQUID.     TO SURVIVE THESE UNUSUAL EXTREMES, SEAL-PEOPLE WOULD NEED EXTREMEADAPTABILITY. THIS VERIFIES OUR EARLIER GUESS THAT NATIVES HAVESYMBIOSIS WITH THE SAME VIRUS FORM THAT INVADED YOU. WITH SYMBIOTES'AID, SUCH RADICAL PHYSICAL CHANGE COULD BE POSSIBLE. WILL KEEP YOUINFORMED.     GIVE US ANY NEW INFORMATION YOU MIGHT HAVE ON NATIVES.     SS II     The second report was not so routine. Kaiser thought he detected a noteof uneasiness in it.     SUGGEST YOU DEVOTE ALL TIME AND EFFORT TO REPAIR OF SCOUT. INFORMATIONON SEAL-PEOPLE ADEQUATE FOR OUR PURPOSES.     SS II     Kaiser did not answer either communication. His earlier report hadcovered all that he had learned lately. He lay on his cot and went tosleep.     In the morning, another message was waiting:     VERY PLEASED TO HEAR OF PROGRESS ON REPAIR OF SCOUT. COMPLETE ASQUICKLY AS POSSIBLE AND RETURN HERE IMMEDIATELY.     SS II  <doc-sep>Kaiser came wide awake in a cold sweat. The clock showed that only anhour had passed since he had sent his last message to the ship. Stillfive more long hours to wait. He rose and wiped the sweat from his neckand shoulders and restlessly paced the small corridor of the scout.     After a few minutes, he stopped pacing and peered out into the gloom ofBig Muddy. The rain seemed to have eased off some. Not much more than aheavy drizzle now.     Kaiser reached impulsively for the slicker he had thrown over a chestagainst one wall and put it on, then a pair of hip-high plastic bootsand a plastic hat. He opened the door. The scout had come to rest witha slight tilt when it crashed, and Kaiser had to sit down and rollover onto his stomach to ease himself to the ground.     The weather outside was normal for Big Muddy: wet, humid, and warm.     Kaiser sank to his ankles in soft mud before his feet reached solidground. He half walked and half slid to the rear of the scout. Besidethe ship, the octopus was busily at work. Tentacles and antennae,extending from the yard-high box of its body, tested and recordedtemperature, atmosphere, soil, and all other pertinent planetaryconditions. The octopus was connected to the ship's communicator andall its findings were being transmitted to the mother ship for study.     Kaiser observed that it was working well and turned toward a wide,sluggish river, perhaps two hundred yards from the scout. Once there,he headed upstream. He could hear the pipings, and now and then ahigher whistling, of the seal-people before he reached a bend and sawthem. As usual, most were swimming in the river.       One old fellow, whose chocolate-brown fur showed a heavy intermixtureof gray, was sitting on the bank of the river just at the bend. Perhapsa lookout. He pulled himself to his feet as he spied Kaiser and histoothless, hard-gummed mouth opened and emitted a long whistle thatmight have been a greeting—or a warning to the others that a strangerapproached.     The native stood perhaps five feet tall, with the heavy, blubberybody of a seal, and short, thick arms. Membranes connected the armsto his body from shoulder-pits to mid-biceps. The arms ended inthree-fingered, thumbless hands. His legs also were short and thick,with footpads that splayed out at forty-five-degree angles. They gavehis legs the appearance of a split tail. About him hung a rank-fishsmell that made Kaiser's stomach squirm.     The old fellow sounded a cheerful chirp as Kaiser came near. Feelingslightly ineffectual, Kaiser raised both hands and held them palmforward. The other chirped again and Kaiser went on toward the maingroup.  <doc-sep>   Well, naturally Kaiser would transmit baby     talk messages to his mother ship! He was—     GROWING UP ON BIG MUDDY     By CHARLES V. DE VET     Illustrated by TURPIN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction July 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Kaiser stared at the tape in his hand for a long uncomprehendingminute. How long had the stuff been coming through in this inane babytalk? And why hadn't he noticed it before? Why had he had to read thislast communication a third time before he recognized anything unusualabout it?     He went over the words again, as though maybe this time they'd read asthey should.     OO IS SICK, SMOKY. DO TO BEDDY-BY. KEEP UM WARM. WHEN UM FEELS BETTER,LET USNS KNOW.     SS II     Kaiser let himself ease back in the pilot chair and rolled the tapethoughtfully between his fingers. Overhead and to each side, largedrops of rain thudded softly against the transparent walls of the scoutship and dripped wearily from the bottom ledge to the ground.     Damn this climate! Kaiser muttered irrelevantly. Doesn't it ever doanything here except rain?     His attention returned to the matter at hand. Why the baby talk? Andwhy was his memory so hazy? How long had he been here? What had he beendoing during that time?     Listlessly he reached for the towel at his elbow and wiped the moisturefrom his face and bare shoulders. The air conditioning had gone outwhen the scout ship cracked up. He'd have to repair the scout or hewas stuck here for good. He remembered now that he had gone over thejob very carefully and thoroughly, and had found it too big to handlealone—or without better equipment, at least. Yet there was little orno chance of his being able to find either here.     Calmly, deliberately, Kaiser collected his thoughts, his memories, andbrought them out where he could look at them:     The mother ship,      Soscites II     , had been on the last leg of itsplanet-mapping tour. It had dropped Kaiser in the one remaining scoutship—the other seven had all been lost one way or another during theexploring of new worlds—and set itself into a giant orbit about thisplanet that Kaiser had named Big Muddy.     The      Soscites II     had to maintain its constant speed; it had no meansof slowing, except to stop, and no way to start again once it did stop.Its limited range of maneuverability made it necessary to set up anorbit that would take it approximately one month, Earth time, to circlea pinpointed planet. And now its fuel was low.     Kaiser had that one month to repair his scout or be stranded hereforever.     That was all he could remember. Nothing of what he had been doingrecently.     A small shiver passed through his body as he glanced once again at thetape in his hand. Baby talk....  <doc-sep>Before he had time to decide, Kaiser heard the small bell of thecommunicator from the tent behind him. He stood undecided for a moment,then returned and read the message on the tape:     STILL ANXIOUSLY AWAITING WORD FROM YOU.     IN MEANTIME, GIVE VERY CLOSE ATTENTION TO FOLLOWING.     WE KNOW THAT THE SYMBIOTES MUST BE ABLE TO MAKE RADICAL CHANGES IN THEPHYSIOLOGY OF THE SEAL-PEOPLE. THERE IS EVERY PROBABILITY THAT YOURSWILL ATTEMPT TO DO THE SAME TO YOU—TO BETTER FIT YOUR BODY TO ITSPRESENT ENVIRONMENT.     THE DANGER, WHICH WE HESITATED TO MENTION UNTIL NOW—WHEN YOU HAVEFORCED US BY YOUR OBSTINATE SILENCE—IS THAT IT CAN ALTER YOURMIND ALSO. YOUR REPORT ON SECOND TRIBE OF SEAL-PEOPLE STRONGLYINDICATES THAT THIS IS ALREADY HAPPENING. THEY WERE PROBABLY NOT MOREINTELLIGENT AND HUMANLIKE THAN THE OTHERS. ON THE CONTRARY, YOU AREBECOMING MORE LIKE THEM.     DANGER ACUTE. RETURN IMMEDIATELY. REPEAT: IMMEDIATELY!     SS II     Kaiser picked up a large rock and slowly, methodically pounded thecommunicator into a flattened jumble of metal and loose parts.     When he finished, he returned to the waiting girl on the river bank.She pointed at his plastic trousers and made laughing sounds in herthroat. Kaiser returned the laugh and stripped off the trousers. Theyran, still laughing, into the water.     Already the long pink hair that had been growing on his body during thepast week was beginning to turn brown at the roots.   <doc-sep>Most of the cousins gasped as the truth began to percolate through.     I knew from the very beginning, Conrad finished, that I didn'thave to do anything at all. I just had to wait and you would destroyyourselves.     I don't understand, Bartholomew protested, searching the faces of thecousins closest to him. What does he mean, we have never existed?We're here, aren't we? What—     Shut up! Raymond snapped. He turned on Martin. You don't seemsurprised.     The old man grinned. I'm not. I figured it all out years ago.     At first, he had wondered what he should do. Would it be better tothrow them into a futile panic by telling them or to do nothing? Hehad decided on the latter; that was the role they had assigned him—towatch and wait and keep out of things—and that was the role he wouldplay.     You knew all the time and you didn't tell us! Raymond spluttered.After we'd been so good to you, making a gentleman out of you insteadof a criminal.... That's right, he snarled, a criminal! An alcoholic,a thief, a derelict! How do you like that?     Sounds like a rich, full life, Martin said wistfully.     What an exciting existence they must have done him out of! But then, hecouldn't help thinking, he—he and Conrad together, of course—had donethem out of      any     kind of existence. It wasn't his responsibility,though; he had done nothing but let matters take whatever course wasdestined for them. If only he could be sure that it was the bettercourse, perhaps he wouldn't feel that nagging sense of guilt insidehim. Strange—where, in his hermetic life, could he possibly havedeveloped such a queer thing as a conscience?     Then we've wasted all this time, Ninian sobbed, all this energy, allthis money, for nothing!     But you were nothing to begin with, Martin told them. And then,after a pause, he added, I only wish I could be sure there had beensome purpose to this.     He didn't know whether it was approaching death that dimmed his sight,or whether the frightened crowd that pressed around him was growingshadowy.     I wish I could feel that some good had been done in letting you bewiped out of existence, he went on voicing his thoughts. But I knowthat the same thing that happened to your worlds and my world willhappen all over again. To other people, in other times, but again. It'sbound to happen. There isn't any hope for humanity.     One man couldn't really change the course of human history, he toldhimself. Two men, that was—one real, one a shadow.     Conrad came close to the old man's bed. He was almost transparent.     No, he said, there is hope. They didn't know the time transmitterworks two ways. I used it for going into the past only once—just thisonce. But I've gone into the future with it many times. And— hepressed Martin's hand—believe me, what I did—what      we     did, you andI—serves a purpose. It will change things for the better. Everythingis going to be all right.  <doc-sep>As dusk fell, Kaiser set up his tent a few hundred yards back from thenative settlement. All apprehension about how his stomach would reactto the river weed had left him. Apparently it could be assimilated byhis digestive system. Lying on his air mattress, he felt thoroughly atpeace with this world.     Once, just before dropping off to sleep, he heard the snuffling noiseof some large animal outside his tent and picked up a pistol, just incase. However, the first jolt of the guard-wire charge discouraged thebeast and Kaiser heard it shuffle away, making puzzled mewing sounds asit went.     The next morning, Kaiser left off all his clothes except a pair ofshorts and went swimming in the river. The seal-people were already inthe water when he arrived and were very friendly.     That friendliness nearly resulted in disaster. The natives crowdedaround as he swam—they maneuvered with an otter-like proficiency—andoften nudged him with their bodies when they came too close. He haddifficulty keeping afloat and soon turned and started back. As heneared the river edge, a playful female grabbed him by the ankle andpulled him under.     Kaiser tried to break her hold, but she evidently thought he wasclowning and wrapped her warm furred arms around him and held himhelpless. They sank deeper.     When his breath threatened to burst from his lungs in a stream ofbubbles, and he still could not free himself, Kaiser brought his kneeup into her stomach and her grip loosened abruptly. He reached thesurface, choking and coughing, and swam blindly toward shore until hisfeet hit the river bottom.     As he stood on the bank, getting his breath, the natives were quiet andseemed to be looking at him reproachfully. He stood for a time, tryingto think of a way to explain the necessity of what he had done, butthere was none. He shrugged helplessly.     There was no longer anything to be gained by staying here—if theyhad the tools he needed, he had no way of finding out or asking forthem—and he packed and started back to the scout.     Kaiser's good spirits returned on his return journey. He had enjoyedthe relief from the tedium of spending day after day in the scout, andnow he enjoyed the exercise of pulling the mudsled. Above the waist,he wore only the harness and the large, soft drops of rain against hisbare skin were pleasant to feel.     When he reached the scout, Kaiser began to unload the sled. Thetarpaulin caught on the edge of a runner and he gave it a tug to freeit. To his amazement, the heavy sled turned completely over, spillingthe equipment to the ground.     Perplexed, Kaiser stooped and began replacing the spilled articles inthe tarp. They felt exceptionally light. He paused again, and suddenlyhis eyes widened.  <doc-sep>So Martin held his peace, because, on the whole, he liked things theway they were. Ninian really was the limit, though. All the people heknew lived in scabrous tenement apartments like his, but she seemed tothink it was disgusting.     So if you don't like it, clean it up, he suggested.     She looked at him as if he were out of his mind.     Hire a maid, then! he jeered.     And darned if that dope didn't go out and get a woman to come clean upthe place! He was so embarrassed, he didn't even dare show his face inthe streets—especially with the women buttonholing him and demandingto know what gave. They tried talking to Ninian, but she certainly knewhow to give them the cold shoulder.     One day the truant officer came to ask why Martin hadn't been comingto school. Very few of the neighborhood kids attended classes veryregularly, so this was just routine. But Ninian didn't know that andshe went into a real tizzy, babbling that Martin had been sick andwould make up the work. Martin nearly did get sick from laughing sohard inside.     But he laughed out of the other side of his mouth when she went out andhired a private tutor for him. A tutor—in that neighborhood! Martinhad to beat up every kid on the block before he could walk a stepwithout hearing Fancy Pants! yelled after him.     Ninian worried all the time. It wasn't that she cared what these peoplethought of her, for she made no secret of regarding them as littlebetter than animals, but she was shy of attracting attention. Therewere an awful lot of people in that neighborhood who felt exactly thesame way, only she didn't know that, either. She was really prettydumb, Martin thought, for all her fancy lingo.     It's so hard to think these things out without any prior practicalapplication to go by, she told him.     He nodded, knowing what she meant was that everything was coming outwrong. But he didn't try to help her; he just watched to see whatshe'd do next. Already he had begun to assume the detached role of aspectator.     When it became clear that his mother was never going to show up again,Ninian bought one of those smallish, almost identical houses thatmushroom on the fringes of a city after every war, particularly whereintensive bombing has created a number of desirable building sites.     This is a much better neighborhood for a boy to grow up in, shedeclared. Besides, it's easier to keep an eye on you here.     And keep an eye on him she did—she or a rather foppish young man whocame to stay with them occasionally. Martin was told to call him UncleRaymond.     From time to time, there were other visitors—Uncles Ives andBartholomew and Olaf, Aunts Ottillie and Grania and Lalage, and manymore—all cousins to one another, he was told, all descendants of his.  <doc-sep>She had finished. And now Cyril cleared his throat. Dear friends, wewere honored by your gracious invitation to visit this fair planet, andwe are honored now by the cordial reception you have given to us.     The crowd yoomped politely. After a slight start, Cyril went on,apparently deciding that applause was all that had been intended.     We feel quite sure that we are going to derive both pleasure andprofit from our stay here, and we promise to make our intensiveanalysis of your culture as painless as possible. We wish only to studyyour society, not to tamper with it in any way.       Ha, ha     , Skkiru said to himself.      Ha, ha, ha!       But why is it, Raoul whispered in Terran as he glanced around out ofthe corners of his eyes, that only the beggar wears mudshoes?     Shhh, Cyril hissed back. We'll find out later, when we'veestablished rapport. Don't be so impatient!     Bbulas gave a sickly smile. Skkiru could almost find it in his heartsto feel sorry for the man.     We have prepared our best hut for you, noble sirs, Bbulas said withgreat self-control, and, by happy chance, this very evening a smallbut unusually interesting ceremony will be held outside the temple. Wehope you will be able to attend. It is to be a rain dance.     Rain dance! Raoul pulled his macintosh together more tightly at thethroat. But why do you want rain? My faith, not only does it rain now,but the planet seems to be a veritable sea of mud. Not, of course, headded hurriedly as Cyril's reproachful eye caught his, that it is notattractive mud. Finest mud I have ever seen. Such texture, such color,such aroma!     Cyril nodded three times and gave an appreciative sniff.     But, Raoul went on, one can have too much of even such a good thingas mud....     The smile did not leave Bbulas' smooth face. Yes, of course, honorableTerrestrials. That is why we are holding this ceremony. It is not adance to bring on rain. It is a dance to      stop     rain.     He was pretty quick on the uptake, Skkiru had to concede. However,that was not enough. The man had no genuine organizational ability.In the time he'd had in which to plan and carry out a scheme forthe improvement of Snaddra, surely he could have done better thanthis high-school theocracy. For one thing, he could have apportionedthe various roles so that each person would be making a definitecontribution to the society, instead of creating some positions plums,like the priesthood, and others prunes, like the beggarship.     What kind of life was that for an active, ambitious young man, standingaround begging? And, moreover, from whom was Skkiru going to beg?Only the Earthmen, for the Snaddrath, no matter how much they threwthemselves into the spirit of their roles, could not be so carriedaway that they would give handouts to a young man whom they had beenaccustomed to see basking in the bosom of luxury.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What role do the seal-people play in the story of GROWING UP ON BIG MUDDY?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"""Why does the communication device play a significant role in the story of Growing Up on Big Muddy?"" [SEP] <s>   Well, naturally Kaiser would transmit baby     talk messages to his mother ship! He was—     GROWING UP ON BIG MUDDY     By CHARLES V. DE VET     Illustrated by TURPIN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction July 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Kaiser stared at the tape in his hand for a long uncomprehendingminute. How long had the stuff been coming through in this inane babytalk? And why hadn't he noticed it before? Why had he had to read thislast communication a third time before he recognized anything unusualabout it?     He went over the words again, as though maybe this time they'd read asthey should.     OO IS SICK, SMOKY. DO TO BEDDY-BY. KEEP UM WARM. WHEN UM FEELS BETTER,LET USNS KNOW.     SS II     Kaiser let himself ease back in the pilot chair and rolled the tapethoughtfully between his fingers. Overhead and to each side, largedrops of rain thudded softly against the transparent walls of the scoutship and dripped wearily from the bottom ledge to the ground.     Damn this climate! Kaiser muttered irrelevantly. Doesn't it ever doanything here except rain?     His attention returned to the matter at hand. Why the baby talk? Andwhy was his memory so hazy? How long had he been here? What had he beendoing during that time?     Listlessly he reached for the towel at his elbow and wiped the moisturefrom his face and bare shoulders. The air conditioning had gone outwhen the scout ship cracked up. He'd have to repair the scout or hewas stuck here for good. He remembered now that he had gone over thejob very carefully and thoroughly, and had found it too big to handlealone—or without better equipment, at least. Yet there was little orno chance of his being able to find either here.     Calmly, deliberately, Kaiser collected his thoughts, his memories, andbrought them out where he could look at them:     The mother ship,      Soscites II     , had been on the last leg of itsplanet-mapping tour. It had dropped Kaiser in the one remaining scoutship—the other seven had all been lost one way or another during theexploring of new worlds—and set itself into a giant orbit about thisplanet that Kaiser had named Big Muddy.     The      Soscites II     had to maintain its constant speed; it had no meansof slowing, except to stop, and no way to start again once it did stop.Its limited range of maneuverability made it necessary to set up anorbit that would take it approximately one month, Earth time, to circlea pinpointed planet. And now its fuel was low.     Kaiser had that one month to repair his scout or be stranded hereforever.     That was all he could remember. Nothing of what he had been doingrecently.     A small shiver passed through his body as he glanced once again at thetape in his hand. Baby talk....  <doc-sep>Kaiser came wide awake in a cold sweat. The clock showed that only anhour had passed since he had sent his last message to the ship. Stillfive more long hours to wait. He rose and wiped the sweat from his neckand shoulders and restlessly paced the small corridor of the scout.     After a few minutes, he stopped pacing and peered out into the gloom ofBig Muddy. The rain seemed to have eased off some. Not much more than aheavy drizzle now.     Kaiser reached impulsively for the slicker he had thrown over a chestagainst one wall and put it on, then a pair of hip-high plastic bootsand a plastic hat. He opened the door. The scout had come to rest witha slight tilt when it crashed, and Kaiser had to sit down and rollover onto his stomach to ease himself to the ground.     The weather outside was normal for Big Muddy: wet, humid, and warm.     Kaiser sank to his ankles in soft mud before his feet reached solidground. He half walked and half slid to the rear of the scout. Besidethe ship, the octopus was busily at work. Tentacles and antennae,extending from the yard-high box of its body, tested and recordedtemperature, atmosphere, soil, and all other pertinent planetaryconditions. The octopus was connected to the ship's communicator andall its findings were being transmitted to the mother ship for study.     Kaiser observed that it was working well and turned toward a wide,sluggish river, perhaps two hundred yards from the scout. Once there,he headed upstream. He could hear the pipings, and now and then ahigher whistling, of the seal-people before he reached a bend and sawthem. As usual, most were swimming in the river.       One old fellow, whose chocolate-brown fur showed a heavy intermixtureof gray, was sitting on the bank of the river just at the bend. Perhapsa lookout. He pulled himself to his feet as he spied Kaiser and histoothless, hard-gummed mouth opened and emitted a long whistle thatmight have been a greeting—or a warning to the others that a strangerapproached.     The native stood perhaps five feet tall, with the heavy, blubberybody of a seal, and short, thick arms. Membranes connected the armsto his body from shoulder-pits to mid-biceps. The arms ended inthree-fingered, thumbless hands. His legs also were short and thick,with footpads that splayed out at forty-five-degree angles. They gavehis legs the appearance of a split tail. About him hung a rank-fishsmell that made Kaiser's stomach squirm.     The old fellow sounded a cheerful chirp as Kaiser came near. Feelingslightly ineffectual, Kaiser raised both hands and held them palmforward. The other chirped again and Kaiser went on toward the maingroup.  <doc-sep>Most of the cousins gasped as the truth began to percolate through.     I knew from the very beginning, Conrad finished, that I didn'thave to do anything at all. I just had to wait and you would destroyyourselves.     I don't understand, Bartholomew protested, searching the faces of thecousins closest to him. What does he mean, we have never existed?We're here, aren't we? What—     Shut up! Raymond snapped. He turned on Martin. You don't seemsurprised.     The old man grinned. I'm not. I figured it all out years ago.     At first, he had wondered what he should do. Would it be better tothrow them into a futile panic by telling them or to do nothing? Hehad decided on the latter; that was the role they had assigned him—towatch and wait and keep out of things—and that was the role he wouldplay.     You knew all the time and you didn't tell us! Raymond spluttered.After we'd been so good to you, making a gentleman out of you insteadof a criminal.... That's right, he snarled, a criminal! An alcoholic,a thief, a derelict! How do you like that?     Sounds like a rich, full life, Martin said wistfully.     What an exciting existence they must have done him out of! But then, hecouldn't help thinking, he—he and Conrad together, of course—had donethem out of      any     kind of existence. It wasn't his responsibility,though; he had done nothing but let matters take whatever course wasdestined for them. If only he could be sure that it was the bettercourse, perhaps he wouldn't feel that nagging sense of guilt insidehim. Strange—where, in his hermetic life, could he possibly havedeveloped such a queer thing as a conscience?     Then we've wasted all this time, Ninian sobbed, all this energy, allthis money, for nothing!     But you were nothing to begin with, Martin told them. And then,after a pause, he added, I only wish I could be sure there had beensome purpose to this.     He didn't know whether it was approaching death that dimmed his sight,or whether the frightened crowd that pressed around him was growingshadowy.     I wish I could feel that some good had been done in letting you bewiped out of existence, he went on voicing his thoughts. But I knowthat the same thing that happened to your worlds and my world willhappen all over again. To other people, in other times, but again. It'sbound to happen. There isn't any hope for humanity.     One man couldn't really change the course of human history, he toldhimself. Two men, that was—one real, one a shadow.     Conrad came close to the old man's bed. He was almost transparent.     No, he said, there is hope. They didn't know the time transmitterworks two ways. I used it for going into the past only once—just thisonce. But I've gone into the future with it many times. And— hepressed Martin's hand—believe me, what I did—what      we     did, you andI—serves a purpose. It will change things for the better. Everythingis going to be all right.  <doc-sep>Moving quickly to the door of the scout, he shoved his equipmentthrough and crawled in behind it. He did not consult the communicator,as he customarily did on entering, but went directly to the warpedplace on the floor and picked up the crowbar he had laid there.     Inserting the bar between the metal of the scout bottom and the enginecasing, he lifted. Nothing happened. He rested a minute and triedagain, this time concentrating on his desire to raise the bar. Themetal beneath yielded slightly—but he felt the palms of his handsbruise against the lever.     Only after he dropped the bar did he realize the force he had exerted.His hands ached and tingled. His strength must have been increasedtremendously. With his plastic coat wrapped around the lever, he triedagain. The metal of the scout bottom gave slowly—until the fuel pumphung free!     Kaiser did not repair the tube immediately. He let the solutionrest in his hands, like a package to be opened, the pleasure of itsanticipation to be enjoyed as much as the final act.     He transmitted the news of what he had been able to do and sat down toread the two messages waiting for him.     The first was quite routine:     REPORTS FROM THE OCTOPUS INDICATE THAT BIG MUDDY UNDERGOES RADICALWEATHER-CYCLE CHANGES DURING SPRING AND FALL SEASONS, FROM EXTREMEMOISTURE TO EXTREME ARIDITY. AT HEIGHT OF DRY SEASON, PLANET MUST BECOMPLETELY DEVOID OF SURFACE LIQUID.     TO SURVIVE THESE UNUSUAL EXTREMES, SEAL-PEOPLE WOULD NEED EXTREMEADAPTABILITY. THIS VERIFIES OUR EARLIER GUESS THAT NATIVES HAVESYMBIOSIS WITH THE SAME VIRUS FORM THAT INVADED YOU. WITH SYMBIOTES'AID, SUCH RADICAL PHYSICAL CHANGE COULD BE POSSIBLE. WILL KEEP YOUINFORMED.     GIVE US ANY NEW INFORMATION YOU MIGHT HAVE ON NATIVES.     SS II     The second report was not so routine. Kaiser thought he detected a noteof uneasiness in it.     SUGGEST YOU DEVOTE ALL TIME AND EFFORT TO REPAIR OF SCOUT. INFORMATIONON SEAL-PEOPLE ADEQUATE FOR OUR PURPOSES.     SS II     Kaiser did not answer either communication. His earlier report hadcovered all that he had learned lately. He lay on his cot and went tosleep.     In the morning, another message was waiting:     VERY PLEASED TO HEAR OF PROGRESS ON REPAIR OF SCOUT. COMPLETE ASQUICKLY AS POSSIBLE AND RETURN HERE IMMEDIATELY.     SS II  <doc-sep>Yeah, but how does it work? Tony Carmen demanded of me, sleeking hismirror-black hair and staring up at the disk-topped drum.     Why do you care? I asked irritably. It will dispose of your bodiesfor you.     I got a reason that goes beyond the stiff, but let's stick to thatjust for now.      Where are these bodies going?     I don't want them windingup in the D.A.'s bathtub.     Why not? How could they trace them back to you?     You're the scientist, Tony said hotly. I got great respect for thosecrime lab boys. Maybe the stiff got some of my exclusive brand of talcon it, I don't know.     Listen here, Carmen, I said, what makes you think these bodies aregoing somewhere? Think of it only as a kind of—incinerator.     Not on your life, Professor. The gadget don't get hot so how can itburn? It don't use enough electricity to fry. It don't cut 'em upor crush 'em down, or dissolve them in acid. I've seen disappearingcabinets before.     Mafia or not, I saw red. Are you daring to suggest that I am workingsome trick with trap doors or sliding panels?     Easy, Professor, Carmen said, effortlessly shoving me back with onepalm. I'm not saying you have the machine rigged. It's just thatyou have to be dropping the stuff through a sliding panel in—well,everything around us. You're sliding all that aside and dropping thingsthrough. But I want to know where they wind up. Reasonable?     Carmen was an uneducated lout and a criminal but he had an instinctivefeel for the mechanics of physics.     I don't know where the stuff goes, Carmen, I finally admitted. Itmight go into another plane of existence. 'Another dimension' thewriters for the American Weekly would describe it. Or into our past, orour future.     The swarthy racketeer pursed his lips and apparently did some rapidcalculation.     I don't mind the first two, but I don't like them going into thefuture. If they do that, they may show up again in six months.     Or six million years.     You'll have to cut that future part out, Professor.     I was beginning to get a trifle impatient. All those folk tales I hadheard about the Mafia were getting more distant. See here, Carmen, Icould lie to you and say they went into the prehistoric past and youwould never know the difference. But the truth is, I just don't knowwhere the processed material goes. There's a chance it may go intothe future, yes. But unless it goes exactly one year or exactly somany years it would appear in empty space ... because the earth willhave moved from the spot it was transmitted. I don't know for sure.Perhaps the slight Deneb-ward movement of the Solar System would wrecka perfect three-point landing even then and cause the dispatchedmaterials to burn up from atmospheric friction, like meteors. You willjust have to take a chance on the future. That's the best I can do.     Carmen inhaled deeply. Okay. I'll risk it. Pretty long odds againstany squeal on the play. How many of these things can you turn out,Professor?     I can construct a duplicate of this device so that you may destroy theunwanted corpses that you would have me believe are delivered to youwith the regularity of the morning milk run.     The racketeer waved that suggestion aside. I'm talking about a bigoperation, Venetti. These things can take the place of incinerators,garbage disposals, waste baskets....     Impractical, I snorted. You don't realize the tremendous amount ofelectrical power these devices require....     Nuts! From what you said, the machine is like a TV set; it takesa lot of power to get it started, but then on it coasts on its owngenerators.  <doc-sep>Before he had time to decide, Kaiser heard the small bell of thecommunicator from the tent behind him. He stood undecided for a moment,then returned and read the message on the tape:     STILL ANXIOUSLY AWAITING WORD FROM YOU.     IN MEANTIME, GIVE VERY CLOSE ATTENTION TO FOLLOWING.     WE KNOW THAT THE SYMBIOTES MUST BE ABLE TO MAKE RADICAL CHANGES IN THEPHYSIOLOGY OF THE SEAL-PEOPLE. THERE IS EVERY PROBABILITY THAT YOURSWILL ATTEMPT TO DO THE SAME TO YOU—TO BETTER FIT YOUR BODY TO ITSPRESENT ENVIRONMENT.     THE DANGER, WHICH WE HESITATED TO MENTION UNTIL NOW—WHEN YOU HAVEFORCED US BY YOUR OBSTINATE SILENCE—IS THAT IT CAN ALTER YOURMIND ALSO. YOUR REPORT ON SECOND TRIBE OF SEAL-PEOPLE STRONGLYINDICATES THAT THIS IS ALREADY HAPPENING. THEY WERE PROBABLY NOT MOREINTELLIGENT AND HUMANLIKE THAN THE OTHERS. ON THE CONTRARY, YOU AREBECOMING MORE LIKE THEM.     DANGER ACUTE. RETURN IMMEDIATELY. REPEAT: IMMEDIATELY!     SS II     Kaiser picked up a large rock and slowly, methodically pounded thecommunicator into a flattened jumble of metal and loose parts.     When he finished, he returned to the waiting girl on the river bank.She pointed at his plastic trousers and made laughing sounds in herthroat. Kaiser returned the laugh and stripped off the trousers. Theyran, still laughing, into the water.     Already the long pink hair that had been growing on his body during thepast week was beginning to turn brown at the roots.   <doc-sep>Hendricks reached into a pocket, withdrew several bills and extendedthem. I'll loan you some money. You can sign an IOU and pay me back alittle at a time.     Joe waved the money away. Listen, why don't you do me a favor? Whydon't you frame me? If I'm such a nuisance, pin a crime on me—anycrime.     Can't do it. Convicting a man of a crime he didn't commit is aviolation of Civil Rights and a crime in itself.     Umm.     Why don't you take the free psycho treatment? A man doesn't      have     tobe a DCT. With the free treatment, psychologists can remove all yourcriminal tendencies and—     Go to those      head-shrinkers     ?     Hendricks shrugged again. Have it your way.     Joe laughed. If your damned CPA is so all-powerful, why can't you      make     me go?     Violation of Civil Rights.     Damn it, there must be some way you can help me! We both want the samething. We both want to see me convicted of a crime.     How can I help you without committing a crime myself? Hendrickswalked to his desk, opened a drawer and removed a small black book.See this? It contains names and addresses of all the people in NewYork who aren't properly protected. Every week we find people whoaren't protected properly—blind spots in our protection devices. Assoon as we find them, we take steps to install anti-robbery devices,but this is a big city and sometimes it takes days to get the work done.     In the meantime, any one of these people could be robbed. But what canI do? I can't hold this book in front of your nose and say, 'Here, Joe,pick a name and go out and rob him.' He laughed nervously. If I didthat, I'd be committing a crime myself!     He placed the book on the desk top, took a handkerchief from a pocketagain and wiped sweat from his face. Excuse me a minute. I'm dying ofthirst. There's a water cooler in the next room.     Joe stared at the door to the adjoining office as it closed behind thebig man. Hendricks was—unbelievably—offering him a victim, offeringhim a crime!     Almost running to the desk, Joe opened the book, selected a name andaddress and memorized it:      John Gralewski, Apt. 204, 2141 Orange St.       When Hendricks came back, Joe said, Thanks.     Huh? Thanks for what? I didn't do anything.  <doc-sep>So Martin held his peace, because, on the whole, he liked things theway they were. Ninian really was the limit, though. All the people heknew lived in scabrous tenement apartments like his, but she seemed tothink it was disgusting.     So if you don't like it, clean it up, he suggested.     She looked at him as if he were out of his mind.     Hire a maid, then! he jeered.     And darned if that dope didn't go out and get a woman to come clean upthe place! He was so embarrassed, he didn't even dare show his face inthe streets—especially with the women buttonholing him and demandingto know what gave. They tried talking to Ninian, but she certainly knewhow to give them the cold shoulder.     One day the truant officer came to ask why Martin hadn't been comingto school. Very few of the neighborhood kids attended classes veryregularly, so this was just routine. But Ninian didn't know that andshe went into a real tizzy, babbling that Martin had been sick andwould make up the work. Martin nearly did get sick from laughing sohard inside.     But he laughed out of the other side of his mouth when she went out andhired a private tutor for him. A tutor—in that neighborhood! Martinhad to beat up every kid on the block before he could walk a stepwithout hearing Fancy Pants! yelled after him.     Ninian worried all the time. It wasn't that she cared what these peoplethought of her, for she made no secret of regarding them as littlebetter than animals, but she was shy of attracting attention. Therewere an awful lot of people in that neighborhood who felt exactly thesame way, only she didn't know that, either. She was really prettydumb, Martin thought, for all her fancy lingo.     It's so hard to think these things out without any prior practicalapplication to go by, she told him.     He nodded, knowing what she meant was that everything was coming outwrong. But he didn't try to help her; he just watched to see whatshe'd do next. Already he had begun to assume the detached role of aspectator.     When it became clear that his mother was never going to show up again,Ninian bought one of those smallish, almost identical houses thatmushroom on the fringes of a city after every war, particularly whereintensive bombing has created a number of desirable building sites.     This is a much better neighborhood for a boy to grow up in, shedeclared. Besides, it's easier to keep an eye on you here.     And keep an eye on him she did—she or a rather foppish young man whocame to stay with them occasionally. Martin was told to call him UncleRaymond.     From time to time, there were other visitors—Uncles Ives andBartholomew and Olaf, Aunts Ottillie and Grania and Lalage, and manymore—all cousins to one another, he was told, all descendants of his.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] ""Why does the communication device play a significant role in the story of Growing Up on Big Muddy?""","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What role does the use of baby talk play in the story of Growing Up on Big Muddy? [SEP] <s>   Well, naturally Kaiser would transmit baby     talk messages to his mother ship! He was—     GROWING UP ON BIG MUDDY     By CHARLES V. DE VET     Illustrated by TURPIN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction July 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Kaiser stared at the tape in his hand for a long uncomprehendingminute. How long had the stuff been coming through in this inane babytalk? And why hadn't he noticed it before? Why had he had to read thislast communication a third time before he recognized anything unusualabout it?     He went over the words again, as though maybe this time they'd read asthey should.     OO IS SICK, SMOKY. DO TO BEDDY-BY. KEEP UM WARM. WHEN UM FEELS BETTER,LET USNS KNOW.     SS II     Kaiser let himself ease back in the pilot chair and rolled the tapethoughtfully between his fingers. Overhead and to each side, largedrops of rain thudded softly against the transparent walls of the scoutship and dripped wearily from the bottom ledge to the ground.     Damn this climate! Kaiser muttered irrelevantly. Doesn't it ever doanything here except rain?     His attention returned to the matter at hand. Why the baby talk? Andwhy was his memory so hazy? How long had he been here? What had he beendoing during that time?     Listlessly he reached for the towel at his elbow and wiped the moisturefrom his face and bare shoulders. The air conditioning had gone outwhen the scout ship cracked up. He'd have to repair the scout or hewas stuck here for good. He remembered now that he had gone over thejob very carefully and thoroughly, and had found it too big to handlealone—or without better equipment, at least. Yet there was little orno chance of his being able to find either here.     Calmly, deliberately, Kaiser collected his thoughts, his memories, andbrought them out where he could look at them:     The mother ship,      Soscites II     , had been on the last leg of itsplanet-mapping tour. It had dropped Kaiser in the one remaining scoutship—the other seven had all been lost one way or another during theexploring of new worlds—and set itself into a giant orbit about thisplanet that Kaiser had named Big Muddy.     The      Soscites II     had to maintain its constant speed; it had no meansof slowing, except to stop, and no way to start again once it did stop.Its limited range of maneuverability made it necessary to set up anorbit that would take it approximately one month, Earth time, to circlea pinpointed planet. And now its fuel was low.     Kaiser had that one month to repair his scout or be stranded hereforever.     That was all he could remember. Nothing of what he had been doingrecently.     A small shiver passed through his body as he glanced once again at thetape in his hand. Baby talk....  <doc-sep>Most of the cousins gasped as the truth began to percolate through.     I knew from the very beginning, Conrad finished, that I didn'thave to do anything at all. I just had to wait and you would destroyyourselves.     I don't understand, Bartholomew protested, searching the faces of thecousins closest to him. What does he mean, we have never existed?We're here, aren't we? What—     Shut up! Raymond snapped. He turned on Martin. You don't seemsurprised.     The old man grinned. I'm not. I figured it all out years ago.     At first, he had wondered what he should do. Would it be better tothrow them into a futile panic by telling them or to do nothing? Hehad decided on the latter; that was the role they had assigned him—towatch and wait and keep out of things—and that was the role he wouldplay.     You knew all the time and you didn't tell us! Raymond spluttered.After we'd been so good to you, making a gentleman out of you insteadof a criminal.... That's right, he snarled, a criminal! An alcoholic,a thief, a derelict! How do you like that?     Sounds like a rich, full life, Martin said wistfully.     What an exciting existence they must have done him out of! But then, hecouldn't help thinking, he—he and Conrad together, of course—had donethem out of      any     kind of existence. It wasn't his responsibility,though; he had done nothing but let matters take whatever course wasdestined for them. If only he could be sure that it was the bettercourse, perhaps he wouldn't feel that nagging sense of guilt insidehim. Strange—where, in his hermetic life, could he possibly havedeveloped such a queer thing as a conscience?     Then we've wasted all this time, Ninian sobbed, all this energy, allthis money, for nothing!     But you were nothing to begin with, Martin told them. And then,after a pause, he added, I only wish I could be sure there had beensome purpose to this.     He didn't know whether it was approaching death that dimmed his sight,or whether the frightened crowd that pressed around him was growingshadowy.     I wish I could feel that some good had been done in letting you bewiped out of existence, he went on voicing his thoughts. But I knowthat the same thing that happened to your worlds and my world willhappen all over again. To other people, in other times, but again. It'sbound to happen. There isn't any hope for humanity.     One man couldn't really change the course of human history, he toldhimself. Two men, that was—one real, one a shadow.     Conrad came close to the old man's bed. He was almost transparent.     No, he said, there is hope. They didn't know the time transmitterworks two ways. I used it for going into the past only once—just thisonce. But I've gone into the future with it many times. And— hepressed Martin's hand—believe me, what I did—what      we     did, you andI—serves a purpose. It will change things for the better. Everythingis going to be all right.  <doc-sep>Kaiser came wide awake in a cold sweat. The clock showed that only anhour had passed since he had sent his last message to the ship. Stillfive more long hours to wait. He rose and wiped the sweat from his neckand shoulders and restlessly paced the small corridor of the scout.     After a few minutes, he stopped pacing and peered out into the gloom ofBig Muddy. The rain seemed to have eased off some. Not much more than aheavy drizzle now.     Kaiser reached impulsively for the slicker he had thrown over a chestagainst one wall and put it on, then a pair of hip-high plastic bootsand a plastic hat. He opened the door. The scout had come to rest witha slight tilt when it crashed, and Kaiser had to sit down and rollover onto his stomach to ease himself to the ground.     The weather outside was normal for Big Muddy: wet, humid, and warm.     Kaiser sank to his ankles in soft mud before his feet reached solidground. He half walked and half slid to the rear of the scout. Besidethe ship, the octopus was busily at work. Tentacles and antennae,extending from the yard-high box of its body, tested and recordedtemperature, atmosphere, soil, and all other pertinent planetaryconditions. The octopus was connected to the ship's communicator andall its findings were being transmitted to the mother ship for study.     Kaiser observed that it was working well and turned toward a wide,sluggish river, perhaps two hundred yards from the scout. Once there,he headed upstream. He could hear the pipings, and now and then ahigher whistling, of the seal-people before he reached a bend and sawthem. As usual, most were swimming in the river.       One old fellow, whose chocolate-brown fur showed a heavy intermixtureof gray, was sitting on the bank of the river just at the bend. Perhapsa lookout. He pulled himself to his feet as he spied Kaiser and histoothless, hard-gummed mouth opened and emitted a long whistle thatmight have been a greeting—or a warning to the others that a strangerapproached.     The native stood perhaps five feet tall, with the heavy, blubberybody of a seal, and short, thick arms. Membranes connected the armsto his body from shoulder-pits to mid-biceps. The arms ended inthree-fingered, thumbless hands. His legs also were short and thick,with footpads that splayed out at forty-five-degree angles. They gavehis legs the appearance of a split tail. About him hung a rank-fishsmell that made Kaiser's stomach squirm.     The old fellow sounded a cheerful chirp as Kaiser came near. Feelingslightly ineffectual, Kaiser raised both hands and held them palmforward. The other chirped again and Kaiser went on toward the maingroup.  <doc-sep>One thing he could find out: how long this had been going on. Heturned to the communicator and unhooked the paper receptacle on itsbottom. It held about a yard and a half of tape, probably his lastseveral messages—both those sent and those received. He pulled it outimpatiently and began reading.     The first was from himself:     YOUR SUGGESTIONS NO HELP. HOW AM I GOING TO REPAIR DAMAGE TO SCOUTWITHOUT PROPER EQUIPMENT? AND WHERE DO I GET IT? DO YOU THINK I FOUNDA TOOL SHOP DOWN HERE? FOR GOD'S SAKE, COME UP WITH SOMETHING BETTER.     VISITED SEAL-PEOPLE AGAIN TODAY. STILL HAVE THEIR STINK IN MY NOSE.FOUND HUTS ALONG RIVER BANK, SO I GUESS THEY DON'T LIVE IN WATER.BUT THEY DO SPEND MOST OF THEIR TIME THERE. NO, I HAVE NO WAY OFESTIMATING THEIR INTELLIGENCE. I WOULD JUDGE IT AVERAGES NO HIGHERTHAN SEVEN-YEAR-OLD HUMAN. THEY DEFINITELY DO TALK TO ONE ANOTHER.WILL TRY TO FIND OUT MORE ABOUT THEM, BUT YOU GET TO WORK FAST ON HOWI REPAIR SCOUT.     SWELLING IN ARM WORSE AND AM DEVELOPING A FEVER. TEMPERATURE 102.7 ANHOUR AGO.     SMOKY     The ship must have answered immediately, for the return message timewas six hours later than his own, the minimum interval necessary fortwo-way exchange.     DOING OUR BEST, SMOKY. YOUR IMMEDIATE PROBLEM, AS WE SEE IT, IS TOKEEP WELL. WE FED ALL THE INFORMATION YOU GAVE US INTO SAM, BUT YOUDIDN'T HAVE MUCH EXCEPT THE STING IN YOUR ARM. AS EXPECTED, ALL THATCAME OUT WAS DATA INSUFFICIENT. TRY TO GIVE US MORE. ALSO DETAILALL SYMPTOMS SINCE YOUR LAST REPORT. IN THE MEANTIME, WE'RE DOINGEVERYTHING WE CAN AT THIS END. GOOD LUCK.     SS II     Sam, Kaiser knew, was the ship's mechanical diagnostician. His reportfollowed:     ARM SWOLLEN. UNABLE TO KEEP DOWN FOOD LAST TWELVE HOURS. ABOUT TWOHOURS AGO, ENTIRE BODY TURNED LIVID RED. BRIEF PERIODS OF BLANKNESS.THINGS KEEP COMING AND GOING. SICK AS HELL. HURRY.     SMOKY     The ship's next message read:     INFECTION QUITE DEFINITE. BUT SOMETHING STRANGE THERE. GIVE USANYTHING MORE YOU HAVE.     SS II     His own reply perplexed Kaiser:     LAST LETTER FUNNY. I NOT UNDERSTAND. WHY IS OO SENDING GARBLE TALK?DID USNS MAKE UP SECRET MESSAGES?     SMOKY     The expedition, apparently, was as puzzled as he:     WHAT'S THE MATTER, SMOKY? THAT LAST MESSAGE WAS IN PLAIN TERRAN. NOREASON WHY YOU COULDN'T READ IT. AND WHY THE BABY TALK? IF YOU'RESPOOFING, STOP. GIVE US MORE SYMPTOMS. HOW ARE YOU FEELING NOW?     SS II     The baby talk was worse on Kaiser's next:     TWAZY. WHAT FOR OO TENDING TWAZY LETTERS? FINK UM CAN WEAD TWAZYLETTERS? SKIN ALL YELLOW NOW. COLD. COLD. CO     The ship's following communication was three hours late. It was thelast on the tape—the one Kaiser had read earlier. Apparently theydecided to humor him.     OO IS SICK, SMOKY. DO TO BEDDY-BY. KEEP UM WARM. WHEN UM FEELS BETTER,LET USNS KNOW.     SS II     That was not much help. All it told him was that he had been sick.     He felt better now, outside of a muscular weariness, as thoughconvalescing from a long illness. He put the back of his hand to hisforehead. Cool. No fever anyway.     He glanced at the clock-calendar on the instrument board and back atthe date and time on the tape where he'd started his baby talk. Twentyhours. He hadn't been out of his head too long. He began punching thecommunicator keys while he nibbled at a biscuit.     SEEM TO BE FULLY RECOVERED. FEELING FINE. ANYTHING NEW FROM SAM? ANDHOW ABOUT THE DAMAGE TO SCOUT? GIVE ME ANYTHING YOU HAVE ON EITHER ORBOTH.     SMOKY     Kaiser felt suddenly weary. He lay on the scout's bunk and triedto sleep. Soon he was in that phantasm land between sleep andwakefulness—he knew he was not sleeping, yet he did dream.     It was the same dream he had had many times before. In it, he was backhome again, the home he had joined the space service to escape. He hadrealized soon after his marriage that his wife, Helene, did not lovehim. She had married him for the security his pay check provided. Andthough it soon became evident that she, too, regretted her bargain,she would not divorce him. Instead, she had her revenge on him bypersistent nagging, by letting herself grow fat and querulous, and bycaring for their house only in a slovenly way.     Her crippled brother had moved in with them the day they were married.His mind was as crippled as his body and he took an unhealthy delightin helping his sister torment Kaiser.  <doc-sep>So Martin held his peace, because, on the whole, he liked things theway they were. Ninian really was the limit, though. All the people heknew lived in scabrous tenement apartments like his, but she seemed tothink it was disgusting.     So if you don't like it, clean it up, he suggested.     She looked at him as if he were out of his mind.     Hire a maid, then! he jeered.     And darned if that dope didn't go out and get a woman to come clean upthe place! He was so embarrassed, he didn't even dare show his face inthe streets—especially with the women buttonholing him and demandingto know what gave. They tried talking to Ninian, but she certainly knewhow to give them the cold shoulder.     One day the truant officer came to ask why Martin hadn't been comingto school. Very few of the neighborhood kids attended classes veryregularly, so this was just routine. But Ninian didn't know that andshe went into a real tizzy, babbling that Martin had been sick andwould make up the work. Martin nearly did get sick from laughing sohard inside.     But he laughed out of the other side of his mouth when she went out andhired a private tutor for him. A tutor—in that neighborhood! Martinhad to beat up every kid on the block before he could walk a stepwithout hearing Fancy Pants! yelled after him.     Ninian worried all the time. It wasn't that she cared what these peoplethought of her, for she made no secret of regarding them as littlebetter than animals, but she was shy of attracting attention. Therewere an awful lot of people in that neighborhood who felt exactly thesame way, only she didn't know that, either. She was really prettydumb, Martin thought, for all her fancy lingo.     It's so hard to think these things out without any prior practicalapplication to go by, she told him.     He nodded, knowing what she meant was that everything was coming outwrong. But he didn't try to help her; he just watched to see whatshe'd do next. Already he had begun to assume the detached role of aspectator.     When it became clear that his mother was never going to show up again,Ninian bought one of those smallish, almost identical houses thatmushroom on the fringes of a city after every war, particularly whereintensive bombing has created a number of desirable building sites.     This is a much better neighborhood for a boy to grow up in, shedeclared. Besides, it's easier to keep an eye on you here.     And keep an eye on him she did—she or a rather foppish young man whocame to stay with them occasionally. Martin was told to call him UncleRaymond.     From time to time, there were other visitors—Uncles Ives andBartholomew and Olaf, Aunts Ottillie and Grania and Lalage, and manymore—all cousins to one another, he was told, all descendants of his.  <doc-sep>The Butcher replied airily: A red-headed man talked to me and said itcertainly was sad for a future dictator not to be able to enjoy scenesof carnage in his youth, so I told him I'd been inside the Time Theaterand just come out to get a drink of water and go to the eliminator, butthen my sprained ankle had got worse—I kind of tried to get up andfell down again—so he picked me up and carried me right through theusher.     Butcher, that wasn't honest, Hal said a little worriedly. Youtricked him into thinking you were older and his brain waves blanketedyours, going through the usher. I really      have     heard it's dangerousfor you under-fives to be in here.     The way those cubs beg for babying and get it! one of the girlscommented. Talk about sex favoritism! She and her companion withdrewto the far end of the cubicle.     The Butcher grinned at them briefly and concentrated his attention onthe scene in the Time Bubble.     Those big dogs— he began suddenly. Brute must have smelled 'em.     Don't be silly, Hal said. Smells can't come out of the Time Bubble.Smells haven't any isotopes and—     I don't care, the Butcher asserted. I bet somebody'll figure outsomeday how to use the bubble for time traveling.     You can't travel in a point of view, Hal contradicted, and that'sall the bubble is. Besides, some scientists think the bubble isn't realat all, but a—uh—     I believe, the interpreter cut in smoothly, that you're thinkingof the theory that the Time Bubble operates by hypermemory. Somescientists would have us believe that all memory is time traveling andthat the basic location of the bubble is not space-time at all, butever-present eternity. Some of them go so far as to state that it isonly a mental inability that prevents the Time Bubble from being usedfor time traveling—just as it may be a similar disability that keepsa robot with the same or even more scopeful memories from being a realman or animal.     It is because of this minority theory that under-age individuals andother beings with impulsive mentalities are barred from the TimeTheater. But do not be alarmed. Even if the minority theory shouldprove true—and no evidence for it has ever appeared—there areautomatically operating safeguards to protect the audience from anyharmful consequences of time traveling (almost certainly impossible,remember) in either direction.     Sissies! was the Butcher's comment.  <doc-sep>   Tea Tray in the Sky     By EVELYN E. SMITH     Illustrated by ASHMAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Visiting a society is tougher than being born       into it. A 40 credit tour is no substitute!        The picture changed on the illuminated panel that filled the forwardend of the shelf on which Michael lay. A haggard blonde woman sprawledapathetically in a chair.     Rundown, nervous, hypertensive? inquired a mellifluous voice. Inneed of mental therapy? Buy Grugis juice; it's not expensive. And theyswear by it on Meropé.     A disembodied pair of hands administered a spoonful of Grugis juice tothe woman, whereupon her hair turned bright yellow, makeup bloomed onher face, her clothes grew briefer, and she burst into a fast Callistanclog.     I see from your hair that you have been a member of one of theBrotherhoods, the passenger lying next to Michael on the shelfremarked inquisitively. He was a middle-aged man, his dust-brown hairthinning on top, his small blue eyes glittering preternaturally fromthe lenses fitted over his eyeballs.     Michael rubbed his fingers ruefully over the blond stubble on his scalpand wished he had waited until his tonsure were fully grown beforehe had ventured out into the world. But he had been so impatient toleave the Lodge, so impatient to exchange the flowing robes of theBrotherhood for the close-fitting breeches and tunic of the outer worldthat had seemed so glamorous and now proved so itchy.     Yes, he replied courteously, for he knew the first rule of universalbehavior, I have been a Brother.     Now why would a good-looking young fellow like you want to join aBrotherhood? his shelf companion wanted to know. Trouble over afemale?     Michael shook his head, smiling. No, I have been a member of theAngeleno Brotherhood since I was an infant. My father brought me whenhe entered.     The other man clucked sympathetically. No doubt he was grieved overthe death of your mother.     Michael closed his eyes to shut out the sight of a baby protruding itsfat face at him three-dimensionally, but he could not shut out itslisping voice: Does your child refuse its food, grow wizened like amonkey? It will grow plump with oh-so-good Mealy Mush from Nunki.     No, sir, Michael replied. Father said that was one of the fewblessings that brightened an otherwise benighted life.     Horror contorted his fellow traveller's plump features. Be careful,young man! he warned. Lucky for you that you are talking to someoneas broad-minded as I, but others aren't. You might be reported forviolating a tabu. An Earth tabu, moreover.     An Earth tabu?     Certainly. Motherhood is sacred here on Earth and so, of course, inthe entire United Universe. You should have known that.  <doc-sep>   Butterfly 9     By DONALD KEITH     Illustrated by GAUGHAN     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction January 1957.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        Jeff needed a job and this man had a job to       offer—one where giant economy-size trouble       had labels like fakemake, bumsy and peekage!        I     At first, Jeff scarcely noticed the bold-looking man at the next table.Nor did Ann. Their minds were busy with Jeff's troubles.     You're still the smartest color engineer in television, Ann told Jeffas they dallied with their food. You'll bounce back. Now eat yoursupper.     This beanery is too noisy and hot, he grumbled. I can't eat. Can'ttalk. Can't think. He took a silver pillbox from his pocket andfumbled for a black one. Those were vitamin pills; the big red andyellow ones were sleeping capsules. He gulped the pill.     Ann looked disapproving in a wifely way. Lately you chew pills likepopcorn, she said. Do you really need so many?     I need something. I'm sure losing my grip.     Ann stared at him. Baby! How silly! Nothing happened, except you lostyour lease. You'll build up a better company in a new spot. We're youngyet.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What role does the use of baby talk play in the story of Growing Up on Big Muddy?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in THE EXPENDABLES? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>Once seated, the AEC man said I'll get right to the point. You mayfind this troublesome, gentlemen, but your government intends toconfiscate all of the devices using your so-called Expendable field,and forever bar their manufacture in this country or their importation.     You stinking G-men aren't getting away with this, Carmen saidingratiatingly. Ever hear of the Mafia?     Not much, the young man admitted earnestly, since the FBI finishedwith its deportations a few years back.     I cleared my throat. I must admit that the destruction of amulti-billion business is disconcerting before lunch. May we ask whyyou took this step?     The agent inserted a finger between his collar and tie. Have younoticed how unseasonably warm it is?     I wondered if you had. You're going to have heat prostration if youkeep that suit coat on five minutes more.     The young man collapsed back in his chair, loosening the top button ofhis ivy league jacket, looking from my naked hide to the gossomer scrapof sport shirt Carmen wore. We have to dress inconspicuously in theservice, he panted weakly.     I nodded understandingly. What does the heat have to do with theoutlawing of the Expendables?     At first we thought there might be some truth in the folk nonsensethat nuclear tests had something to do with raising the meantemperature of the world, the AEC man said. But our scientistsquickly found they weren't to blame.     Clever of them.     Yes, they saw that the widespread use of your machines was responsiblefor the higher temperature. Your device violates the law ofconservation of energy,      seemingly     . It      seemingly     destroys matterwithout creating energy. Actually—     He paused dramatically.     Actually, your device added the energy it created in destroying matterto the energy potential of the planet in the form of      heat     . You seewhat that means? If your devices continue in operation, the meantemperature of Earth will rise to the point where we burst into flame.They must be outlawed!     I agree, I said reluctantly.     Tony Carmen spoke up. No, you don't, Professor. We don't agree tothat.     I waved his protests aside.     I      would     agree, I said, except that it wouldn't work. Explain thedanger to the public, let them feel the heat rise themselves, and theywill hoard Expendables against seizure and continue to use them, untilwe do burst into flame, as you put it so religiously.     Why? the young man demanded.     Because Expendables are convenient. There is a ban on frivolous useof water due to the dire need. But the police still have to go stoppeople from watering lawns, and I suspect not a few swimming pools arebeing filled on the sly. Water is somebody else's worry. So will begenerating enough heat to turn Eden into Hell.     Mass psychology isn't my strongest point, the young man saidworriedly. But I suspect you may be right. Then—we'll be damned?     No, not necessarily, I told him comfortingly. All we have to do is      use up     the excess energy with engines of a specific design.     But can we design those engines in time? the young man wondered withuncharacteristic gloom.     Certainly, I said, practising the power of positive thinking. Nowthat your world-wide testing laboratories have confirmed a vague fearof mine, I can easily reverse the field of the Expendable device andcreate a rather low-efficiency engine that consumes the excess energyin our planetary potential.  <doc-sep>There's something to what you say, I admitted in the face of hisunexpected information. But I can hardly turn my invention over toyour entirely persuasive salesmen, I'm sure. This is part of theresults of an investigation for the government. Washington will haveto decide what to do with the machine.     Listen, Professor, Carmen began, the Mafia—     What makes you think I'm any more afraid of the Mafia than I am of theF.B.I.? I may have already sealed my fate by letting you in on thismuch. Machinegunning is hardly a less attractive fate to me than a poorsecurity rating. To me, being dead professionally would be as bad asbeing dead biologically.     Tony Carmen laid a heavy hand on my shoulder. I finally deduced heintended to be cordial.     Of course, he said smoothly you have to give this to Washington butthere are      ways     , Professor. I know. I'm a business man—     You      are     ? I said.     He named some of the businesses in which he held large shares of stock.     You      are     .     I've had experience in this sort of thing. We simply      leak     theinformation to a few hundred well selected persons about all that yourmachine can do. We'll call 'em Expendables, because they can expendanything.     I, I interjected, planned to call it the Venetti Machine.     Professor, who calls the radio the Marconi these days?     There are Geiger-Muller Counters, though, I said.     You don't have to give a Geiger counter the sex appeal of a TV set ora hardtop convertible. We'll call them Expendables. No home will becomplete without one.     Perfect for disposing of unwanted bodies, I mused. The murder ratewill go alarmingly with those devices within easy reach.     Did that stop Sam Colt or Henry Ford? Tony Carmen asked reasonably....     Naturally, I was aware that the government would      not     be interested inmy machine. I am not a Fortean, a psychic, a psionicist or a screwball.But the government frequently gets things it doesn't know what to dowith—like airplanes in the 'twenties. When it doesn't know what to do,it doesn't do it.     There have been hundreds of workable perpetual motion machinespatented, for example. Of course, they weren't vices in the strictestsense of the word. Many of them used the external power of gravity,they would wear out or slow down in time from friction, but for themeanwhile, for some ten to two hundred years they would just sit there,moving. No one had ever been able to figure out what to do with them.     I knew the AEC wasn't going to dump tons of radioactive waste (withsome possible future reclaimation value) into a machine which theydidn't believe actually could work.     Tony Carmen knew exactly what to do with an Expendable once he got hishands on it.     Naturally, that was what I had been afraid of.  <doc-sep>I peeled off my wet shirt and threw it across the corner of my desk,casting a reproving eye at the pastel air-conditioner in the window. Itwasn't really the machine's fault—The water department reported thereservoir too low to run water-cooled systems. It would be a day or twobefore I could get the gas type into my office.     Miss Brown, my secretary, was getting a good look at my pale, bonychest. Well, for the salary she got, she could stand to look. Ofcourse, she herself was wearing a modest one-strap sun dress, notshorts and halters like some of the girls.     My, she observed it certainly is humid for March, isn't it,Professor Venetti?     I agreed that it was.     She got her pad and pencil ready.     Wheedling form letter to Better Mousetraps. Where are our royaltiesfor the last quarter of the year? We know we didn't have a full threemonths with our Expendable Field in operation on the new traps, but wewant the payola for what we have coming.     Condescending form letter to Humane Lethal Equipment. Absolutely donot send the California penal system any chambers equipped with ourpatented field until legislature officially approves them. We got awaywith it in New Mexico, but we're older and wiser now.     Rush priority telegram to President, United States, any time inthe next ten days. Thanks for citation, et cetera. Glad buddy systemworking out well in training battlefield disintegrator teams.     Indignant form letter to Arcivox. We do not feel we are properly aco-respondent in your damage suits. Small children and appliances havealways been a problem, viz ice boxes and refrigerators. Suggest you puta more complicated latch on the handles of the dangerously inferiordoors you have covering our efficient, patented field.     I leaned back and took a breather. There was no getting around it—Ijust wasn't happy as a business man. I had been counting on being onlya figurehead in the Expendable Patent Holding Corporation, but TonyCarmen didn't like office work. And he hadn't anyone he trusted anymore than me. Even.     I jerked open a drawer and pulled off a paper towel from the roll Ihad stolen in the men's room. Scrubbing my chest and neck with it, Ismoothed it out and dropped it into the wastebasket. It slid down thetapering sides and through the narrow slot above the Expendable Field.I had redesigned the wastebaskets after a janitor had stepped in one.But Gimpy was happy now, with the $50,000 we paid him.     I opened my mouth and Miss Brown's pencil perked up its eraser,reflecting her fierce alertness.     Tony Carmen banged open the door, and I closed my mouth.     G-men on the way here, he blurted and collapsed into a chair oppositeMiss Brown.     Don't revert to type, I warned him. What kind of G-Men? FBI? FCC?CIA? FDA? USTD?     Investigators for the Atomic Energy Commission.     The solemn, conservatively dressed young man in the door touched theedge of his snap-brim hat as he said it.     Miss Brown, would you mind letting our visitor use your chair? Iasked.     Not at all, sir, she said dreamily.     May I suggest, I said, that we might get more business done if youthen removed yourself from the chair first.     Miss Brown leaped to her feet with a healthy galvanic response and quitthe vicinity with her usual efficiency.  <doc-sep>The agent of the AEC whose name I can never remember was present alongwith Tony Carmen the night my assistants finished with the work I hadoutlined.     While it was midnight outside, the fluorescents made the scene morevisible than sunlight. My Disexpendable was a medium-sized drum in atripod frame with an unturned coolie's hat at the bottom.     Breathlessly, I closed the switch and the scooped disc began slowly torevolve.     Is it my imagination, the agent asked, or is it getting cooler inhere?     Professor. Carmen gave me a warning nudge.     There was now something on the revolving disc. It was a bar of someshiny gray metal.     Kill the power, Professor, Carmen said.     Can it be, I wondered, that the machine is somehow recreating ordrawing back the processed material from some other time or dimension?     Shut the thing off, Venetti! the racketeer demanded.     But too late.     There was now a somewhat dead man sitting in the saddle of the turningcircle of metal.     If Harry Keno had only been sane when he turned up on thatmerry-go-round in Boston I feel we would have learned much of immensevalue on the nature of time and space.     As it is, I feel that it is a miscarriage of justice to hold me inconnection with the murders I am sure Tony Carmen did commit.     I hope this personal account when published will end the viciousstory supported by the district attorney that it was I who sought TonyCarmen out and offered to dispose of his enemies and that I sought hisfinancial backing for the exploitation of my invention.     This is the true, and only true, account of the development of themachine known as the Expendable.     I am only sorry, now that the temperature has been standardized oncemore, that the Expendable's antithesis, the Disexpendable, is of toolow an order of efficiency to be of much value as a power source inthese days of nuclear and solar energy. So the world is again stuckwith the problem of waste disposal ... including all that I dumpedbefore. But as a great American once said, you can't win 'em all.     If you so desire, you may send your generous and fruitful letterstowards my upcoming defense in care of this civic-minded publication.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>Twenty minutes' walk into the desert brought Retief to a low rampartof thorn branches: the Flap-jacks' outer defensive line against Terryforays. It would be as good a place as any to wait for the move by theFlap-jacks. He sat down and eased the weight of his captive off hisback, but kept a firm thumb in place. If his analysis of the situationwas correct, a Flap-jack picket should be along before too long....     A penetrating beam of red light struck Retief in the face, blinked off.He got to his feet. The captive Flap-jack rippled its fringe in anagitated way. Retief tensed his thumb in the eye-socket.     Sit tight, he said. Don't try to do anything hasty.... His remarkswere falling on deaf ears—or no ears at all—but the thumb spoke asloudly as words.     There was a slither of sand. Another. He became aware of a ring ofpresences drawing closer.     Retief tightened his grip on the alien. He could see a dark shape now,looming up almost to his own six-three. It looked like the Flap-jackscame in all sizes.     A low rumble sounded, like a deep-throated growl. It strummed on, fadedout. Retief cocked his head, frowning.     Try it two octaves higher, he said.     Awwrrp! Sorry. Is that better? a clear voice came from the darkness.     That's fine, Retief said. I'm here to arrange a prisoner exchange.     Prisoners? But we have no prisoners.     Sure you have. Me. Is it a deal?     Ah, yes, of course. Quite equitable. What guarantees do you require?     The word of a gentleman is sufficient. Retief released the alien. Itflopped once, disappeared into the darkness.     If you'd care to accompany me to our headquarters, the voice said,we can discuss our mutual concerns in comfort.     Delighted.     Red lights blinked briefly. Retief glimpsed a gap in the thornybarrier, stepped through it. He followed dim shapes across warm sand toa low cave-like entry, faintly lit with a reddish glow.     I must apologize for the awkward design of our comfort-dome, said thevoice. Had we known we would be honored by a visit—     Think nothing of it, Retief said. We diplomats are trained to crawl.     Inside, with knees bent and head ducked under the five-foot ceiling,Retief looked around at the walls of pink-toned nacre, a floor likeburgundy-colored glass spread with silken rugs and a low table ofpolished red granite that stretched down the center of the spaciousroom, set out with silver dishes and rose-crystal drinking-tubes.      III     Let me congratulate you, the voice said.     Retief turned. An immense Flap-jack, hung with crimson trappings,rippled at his side. The voice issued from a disk strapped to its back.You fight well. I think we will find in each other worthy adversaries.     Thanks. I'm sure the test would be interesting, but I'm hoping we canavoid it.     Avoid it? Retief heard a low humming coming from the speaker in thesilence. Well, let us dine, the mighty Flap-jack said at last. Wecan resolve these matters later. I am called Hoshick of the Mosaic ofthe Two Dawns.     I'm Retief. Hoshick waited expectantly, ... of the Mountain of RedTape, Retief added.     Take place, Retief, said Hoshick. I hope you won't find our rudecouches uncomfortable. Two other large Flap-jacks came into the room,communed silently with Hoshick. Pray forgive our lack of translatingdevices, he said to Retief. Permit me to introduce my colleagues....     A small Flap-jack rippled the chamber bearing on its back a silver trayladen with aromatic food. The waiter served the four diners, filled thedrinking tubes with yellow wine. It smelled good.     I trust you'll find these dishes palatable, said Hoshick. Ourmetabolisms are much alike, I believe. Retief tried the food. It had adelicious nut-like flavor. The wine was indistinguishable from Chateaud'Yquem.     It was an unexpected pleasure to encounter your party here,said Hoshick. I confess at first we took you for an indigenousearth-grubbing form, but we were soon disabused of that notion. Heraised a tube, manipulating it deftly with his fringe tentacles. Retiefreturned the salute and drank.     Of course, Hoshick continued, as soon as we realized that you weresportsmen like ourselves, we attempted to make amends by providing abit of activity for you. We've ordered out our heavier equipment and afew trained skirmishers and soon we'll be able to give you an adequateshow. Or so I hope.     Additional skirmishers? said Retief. How many, if you don't mind myasking?     For the moment, perhaps only a few hundred. There-after ... well,I'm sure we can arrange that between us. Personally I would prefer acontest of limited scope. No nuclear or radiation-effect weapons. Sucha bore, screening the spawn for deviations. Though I confess we've comeupon some remarkably useful sports. The rangerform such as you madecaptive, for example. Simple-minded, of course, but a fantasticallykeen tracker.     Oh, by all means, Retief said. No atomics. As you pointed out,spawn-sorting is a nuisance, and then too, it's wasteful of troops.     Ah, well, they are after all expendable. But we agree: no atomics.Have you tried the ground-gwack eggs? Rather a specialty of myMosaic....     Delicious, said Retief. I wonder. Have you considered eliminatingweapons altogether?  <doc-sep>   HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS     By JIM HARMON     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Every lonely man tries to make friends.     Manet just didn't know when to stop!      William Manet was alone.     In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It wouldgive him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlateloneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take himto start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to beginteaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminablelectures to a bored and captive audience of one.     He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whetherit was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and asdirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal andthink more like a god than any man for generations.     But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearingbore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.     Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was alreadytalking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he hadcut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up andwinked at it whenever he passed that way.     Lately she was winking back at him.     Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh fromhis arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.     No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manetcould only be this lonely on Mars.     Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.     All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middleof the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat,flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in theblack sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moonsand one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The wholegimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one wasneeded here—no human being, at least.     The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn'ttake much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefullyspecified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycombMars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.     They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated peoplefor the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going toisolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manetand his fellows.     The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fareto Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuterservice for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodationsfor couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren'tproviding fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits betweenthe various Overseers. They weren't very providential.     But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offeredwonderful opportunities.     It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship makinga tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning asbright as envy.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in THE EXPENDABLES?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the fate of Tony Carmen in THE EXPENDABLES? [SEP] <s>There's something to what you say, I admitted in the face of hisunexpected information. But I can hardly turn my invention over toyour entirely persuasive salesmen, I'm sure. This is part of theresults of an investigation for the government. Washington will haveto decide what to do with the machine.     Listen, Professor, Carmen began, the Mafia—     What makes you think I'm any more afraid of the Mafia than I am of theF.B.I.? I may have already sealed my fate by letting you in on thismuch. Machinegunning is hardly a less attractive fate to me than a poorsecurity rating. To me, being dead professionally would be as bad asbeing dead biologically.     Tony Carmen laid a heavy hand on my shoulder. I finally deduced heintended to be cordial.     Of course, he said smoothly you have to give this to Washington butthere are      ways     , Professor. I know. I'm a business man—     You      are     ? I said.     He named some of the businesses in which he held large shares of stock.     You      are     .     I've had experience in this sort of thing. We simply      leak     theinformation to a few hundred well selected persons about all that yourmachine can do. We'll call 'em Expendables, because they can expendanything.     I, I interjected, planned to call it the Venetti Machine.     Professor, who calls the radio the Marconi these days?     There are Geiger-Muller Counters, though, I said.     You don't have to give a Geiger counter the sex appeal of a TV set ora hardtop convertible. We'll call them Expendables. No home will becomplete without one.     Perfect for disposing of unwanted bodies, I mused. The murder ratewill go alarmingly with those devices within easy reach.     Did that stop Sam Colt or Henry Ford? Tony Carmen asked reasonably....     Naturally, I was aware that the government would      not     be interested inmy machine. I am not a Fortean, a psychic, a psionicist or a screwball.But the government frequently gets things it doesn't know what to dowith—like airplanes in the 'twenties. When it doesn't know what to do,it doesn't do it.     There have been hundreds of workable perpetual motion machinespatented, for example. Of course, they weren't vices in the strictestsense of the word. Many of them used the external power of gravity,they would wear out or slow down in time from friction, but for themeanwhile, for some ten to two hundred years they would just sit there,moving. No one had ever been able to figure out what to do with them.     I knew the AEC wasn't going to dump tons of radioactive waste (withsome possible future reclaimation value) into a machine which theydidn't believe actually could work.     Tony Carmen knew exactly what to do with an Expendable once he got hishands on it.     Naturally, that was what I had been afraid of.  <doc-sep>The agent of the AEC whose name I can never remember was present alongwith Tony Carmen the night my assistants finished with the work I hadoutlined.     While it was midnight outside, the fluorescents made the scene morevisible than sunlight. My Disexpendable was a medium-sized drum in atripod frame with an unturned coolie's hat at the bottom.     Breathlessly, I closed the switch and the scooped disc began slowly torevolve.     Is it my imagination, the agent asked, or is it getting cooler inhere?     Professor. Carmen gave me a warning nudge.     There was now something on the revolving disc. It was a bar of someshiny gray metal.     Kill the power, Professor, Carmen said.     Can it be, I wondered, that the machine is somehow recreating ordrawing back the processed material from some other time or dimension?     Shut the thing off, Venetti! the racketeer demanded.     But too late.     There was now a somewhat dead man sitting in the saddle of the turningcircle of metal.     If Harry Keno had only been sane when he turned up on thatmerry-go-round in Boston I feel we would have learned much of immensevalue on the nature of time and space.     As it is, I feel that it is a miscarriage of justice to hold me inconnection with the murders I am sure Tony Carmen did commit.     I hope this personal account when published will end the viciousstory supported by the district attorney that it was I who sought TonyCarmen out and offered to dispose of his enemies and that I sought hisfinancial backing for the exploitation of my invention.     This is the true, and only true, account of the development of themachine known as the Expendable.     I am only sorry, now that the temperature has been standardized oncemore, that the Expendable's antithesis, the Disexpendable, is of toolow an order of efficiency to be of much value as a power source inthese days of nuclear and solar energy. So the world is again stuckwith the problem of waste disposal ... including all that I dumpedbefore. But as a great American once said, you can't win 'em all.     If you so desire, you may send your generous and fruitful letterstowards my upcoming defense in care of this civic-minded publication.  <doc-sep>The closed sedan was warm, even in early December.     Outside, the street was a progression of shadowed block forms. I wasshivering slightly, my teeth rattling like the porcelain they were. Wasthis the storied ride, I wondered?     Carmen finally returned to the car, unlatched the door and slid in. Hedid not reinsert the ignition key. I did not feel like sprinting downthe deserted street.     The boys will have it set up in a minute, Tony the racketeer informedme.     What? The firing squad?     The Expendable, of course.     Here? You dragged me out here to see how you have prostituted myinvention? I presume you've set it up with a 'Keep Our City Clean' signpasted on it.     He chuckled. It was a somewhat nasty sound, or so I imagined.     A flashlight winked in the sooty twilight.     Okay. Let's go, Tony said, slapping my shoulder.     I got out of the car, rubbing my flabby bicep. Whenever I took myteen-age daughter to the beach from my late wife's parents' home, Ifrequently found 230 pound bullies did kick sand in my ears.     The machine was installed on the corner, half covered with a gloomywhite shroud, and fearlessly plugged into the city lighting system viaa blanketed streetlamp. Two hoods hovered in a doorway ready to takecare of the first cop with a couple of fifties or a single .38, asnecessity dictated.     Tony guided my elbow. Okay, Professor, I think I understand the bitnow, but I'll let you run it up with the flagpole for me, to see how itwaves to the national anthem.     Here? I spluttered once more. I told you, Carmen, I wanted nothingmore to do with you. Your check is still on deposit....     You didn't want anything to do with me in the first place. The thug'steeth flashed in the night. Throw your contraption into gear, buddy.     That was the first time the tone of respect, even if faked, had goneout of his voice. I moved to the switchboard of my invention. Whatremained was as simple as adjusting a modern floor lamp to a mediumlight position. I flipped.     Restraining any impulse toward colloqualism, I was also deeplydisturbed by what next occurred.     One of the massive square shapes on the horizon vanished.     What have you done? I yelped, ripping the cover off the machine.     Even under the uncertain illumination of the smogged stars I could seethat the unit was half gone—in fact, exactly halved.     Squint the Seal is one of my boys. He used to be a mechanic in theold days for Burger, Madle, the guys who used to rob banks and stuff.There was an unmistakable note of boyish admiration in Carmen's voice.He figured the thing would work like that. Separate the poles and youincrease the size of the working area.     You mean square the operational field. Your idiot doesn't even knowmechanics.     No, but he knows all about how any kind of machine works.     You call that working? I demanded. Do you realize what you havethere, Carmen?     Sure. A disintegrator ray, straight out of      Startling Stories     .     My opinion as to the type of person who followed the pages ofscience-fiction magazines with fluttering lips and tracing finger wasupheld.     I looked at the old warehouse and of course didn't see it.     What was this a test for? I asked, fearful of the Frankenstein I hadmade. What are you planning to do now?     This was no test, Venetti. This was it. I just wiped out Harry Kenoand his intimates right in the middle of their confidential squat.     Good heavens. That's uncouthly old-fashioned of you, Carmen! Why,that's      murder     .     Not, Carmen said, without no      corpus delecti     .     The body of the crime remains without the body of the victim, Iremembered from my early Ellery Queen training.     You're talking too much, Professor, Tony suggested. Remember,      you     did it with      your     machine.     Yes, I said at length. And why are we standing here letting thosemachines sit there?  <doc-sep>There were two small items of interest to me in the Times the followingmorning.     One two-inch story—barely making page one because of a hole to fill atthe bottom of an account of the number of victims of Indian summer heatprostration—told of the incineration of a warehouse on Fleet Street byan ingenious new arson bomb that left virtually no trace. (Maybe thefire inspector had planted a few traces to make his explanation morecreditable.)     The second item was further over in a science column just off theeditorial page. It told of the government—!—developing a new processof waste disposal rivaling the old Buck Rogers disintegrator ray.     This, I presumed, was one of Tony Carmen's information leaks.     If he hoped to arouse the public into demanding my invention Idoubted he would succeed. The public had been told repeatedly of anew radioactive process for preserving food and a painless way ofspraying injections through the skin. But they were still stuck withrefrigerators and hypodermic needles.     I had forced my way half-way through the paper and the terrible coffeeI made when the doorbell rang.     I was hardly surprised when it turned out to be Tony Carmen behind thefront door.     He pushed in, slapping a rolled newspaper in his palm. Action,Professor.     The district attorney has indicted you? I asked hopefully.     He's not even indicted      you     , Venetti. No, I got a feeler on thisplant in the      Times     .     I shook my head. The government will take over the invention, nomatter what the public wants.     The public? Who cares about the public? The Arcivox corporation wantsthis machine of yours. They have their agents tracing the plant now.They will go from the columnist to his legman to my man and finally toyou. Won't be long before they get here. An hour maybe.     Arcivox makes radios and TV sets. What do they want with theExpendables?     Opening up a new appliance line with real innovations. I hear they gota new refrigerator. All open. Just shelves—no doors or sides. Theywant a revolutionary garbage disposal too.     Do you own stock in the company? Is that how you know?     I own stock in a competitor. That's how I know, Carmen informed me.Listen, Professor, you can sell to Arcivox and still keep control ofthe patents through a separate corporation. And I'll give you 49% ofits stock.     This was Carmen's idea of a magnanimous offer for my invention. It      was     a pretty good offer—49% and my good health.     But will the government let Arcivox have the machine for commercialuse?     The government would let Arcivox have the hydrogen bomb if they founda commercial use for it.     There was a sturdy knock on the door, not a shrill ring of the bell.     That must be Arcivox now, Carmen growled. They have the bestdetectives in the business. You know what to tell them?     I knew what to tell them.  <doc-sep>Once seated, the AEC man said I'll get right to the point. You mayfind this troublesome, gentlemen, but your government intends toconfiscate all of the devices using your so-called Expendable field,and forever bar their manufacture in this country or their importation.     You stinking G-men aren't getting away with this, Carmen saidingratiatingly. Ever hear of the Mafia?     Not much, the young man admitted earnestly, since the FBI finishedwith its deportations a few years back.     I cleared my throat. I must admit that the destruction of amulti-billion business is disconcerting before lunch. May we ask whyyou took this step?     The agent inserted a finger between his collar and tie. Have younoticed how unseasonably warm it is?     I wondered if you had. You're going to have heat prostration if youkeep that suit coat on five minutes more.     The young man collapsed back in his chair, loosening the top button ofhis ivy league jacket, looking from my naked hide to the gossomer scrapof sport shirt Carmen wore. We have to dress inconspicuously in theservice, he panted weakly.     I nodded understandingly. What does the heat have to do with theoutlawing of the Expendables?     At first we thought there might be some truth in the folk nonsensethat nuclear tests had something to do with raising the meantemperature of the world, the AEC man said. But our scientistsquickly found they weren't to blame.     Clever of them.     Yes, they saw that the widespread use of your machines was responsiblefor the higher temperature. Your device violates the law ofconservation of energy,      seemingly     . It      seemingly     destroys matterwithout creating energy. Actually—     He paused dramatically.     Actually, your device added the energy it created in destroying matterto the energy potential of the planet in the form of      heat     . You seewhat that means? If your devices continue in operation, the meantemperature of Earth will rise to the point where we burst into flame.They must be outlawed!     I agree, I said reluctantly.     Tony Carmen spoke up. No, you don't, Professor. We don't agree tothat.     I waved his protests aside.     I      would     agree, I said, except that it wouldn't work. Explain thedanger to the public, let them feel the heat rise themselves, and theywill hoard Expendables against seizure and continue to use them, untilwe do burst into flame, as you put it so religiously.     Why? the young man demanded.     Because Expendables are convenient. There is a ban on frivolous useof water due to the dire need. But the police still have to go stoppeople from watering lawns, and I suspect not a few swimming pools arebeing filled on the sly. Water is somebody else's worry. So will begenerating enough heat to turn Eden into Hell.     Mass psychology isn't my strongest point, the young man saidworriedly. But I suspect you may be right. Then—we'll be damned?     No, not necessarily, I told him comfortingly. All we have to do is      use up     the excess energy with engines of a specific design.     But can we design those engines in time? the young man wondered withuncharacteristic gloom.     Certainly, I said, practising the power of positive thinking. Nowthat your world-wide testing laboratories have confirmed a vague fearof mine, I can easily reverse the field of the Expendable device andcreate a rather low-efficiency engine that consumes the excess energyin our planetary potential.  <doc-sep>I peeled off my wet shirt and threw it across the corner of my desk,casting a reproving eye at the pastel air-conditioner in the window. Itwasn't really the machine's fault—The water department reported thereservoir too low to run water-cooled systems. It would be a day or twobefore I could get the gas type into my office.     Miss Brown, my secretary, was getting a good look at my pale, bonychest. Well, for the salary she got, she could stand to look. Ofcourse, she herself was wearing a modest one-strap sun dress, notshorts and halters like some of the girls.     My, she observed it certainly is humid for March, isn't it,Professor Venetti?     I agreed that it was.     She got her pad and pencil ready.     Wheedling form letter to Better Mousetraps. Where are our royaltiesfor the last quarter of the year? We know we didn't have a full threemonths with our Expendable Field in operation on the new traps, but wewant the payola for what we have coming.     Condescending form letter to Humane Lethal Equipment. Absolutely donot send the California penal system any chambers equipped with ourpatented field until legislature officially approves them. We got awaywith it in New Mexico, but we're older and wiser now.     Rush priority telegram to President, United States, any time inthe next ten days. Thanks for citation, et cetera. Glad buddy systemworking out well in training battlefield disintegrator teams.     Indignant form letter to Arcivox. We do not feel we are properly aco-respondent in your damage suits. Small children and appliances havealways been a problem, viz ice boxes and refrigerators. Suggest you puta more complicated latch on the handles of the dangerously inferiordoors you have covering our efficient, patented field.     I leaned back and took a breather. There was no getting around it—Ijust wasn't happy as a business man. I had been counting on being onlya figurehead in the Expendable Patent Holding Corporation, but TonyCarmen didn't like office work. And he hadn't anyone he trusted anymore than me. Even.     I jerked open a drawer and pulled off a paper towel from the roll Ihad stolen in the men's room. Scrubbing my chest and neck with it, Ismoothed it out and dropped it into the wastebasket. It slid down thetapering sides and through the narrow slot above the Expendable Field.I had redesigned the wastebaskets after a janitor had stepped in one.But Gimpy was happy now, with the $50,000 we paid him.     I opened my mouth and Miss Brown's pencil perked up its eraser,reflecting her fierce alertness.     Tony Carmen banged open the door, and I closed my mouth.     G-men on the way here, he blurted and collapsed into a chair oppositeMiss Brown.     Don't revert to type, I warned him. What kind of G-Men? FBI? FCC?CIA? FDA? USTD?     Investigators for the Atomic Energy Commission.     The solemn, conservatively dressed young man in the door touched theedge of his snap-brim hat as he said it.     Miss Brown, would you mind letting our visitor use your chair? Iasked.     Not at all, sir, she said dreamily.     May I suggest, I said, that we might get more business done if youthen removed yourself from the chair first.     Miss Brown leaped to her feet with a healthy galvanic response and quitthe vicinity with her usual efficiency.  <doc-sep>   THE EXPENDABLES     BY JIM HARMON     It was just a little black box,     useful for getting rid of things.     Trouble was, it worked too well!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, May 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      You see my problem, Professor? Tony Carmen held his pinkly manicured,flashily ringed hands wide.     I saw his problem and it was warmly embarrassing.     Really, Mr. Carmen, I said, this isn't the sort of thing you discusswith a total stranger. I'm not a doctor—not of medicine, anyway—or alawyer.     They can't help me. I need an operator in your line.     I work for the United States government. I can't become involved inanything illegal.     Carmen smoothed down the front of his too-tight midnight blue suit andtouched the diamond sticking in his silver tie. You can't, ProfessorVenetti? Ever hear of the Mafia?     I've heard of it, I said uneasily. An old fraternal organizationsomething like the Moose or Rosicrucians, founded in Sicily. Itallegedly controls organized crime in the U.S. But that is aresponsibility-eluding myth that honest Italian-Americans are stampingout. We don't even like to see the word in print.     I can understand      honest     Italian-Americans feeling that way. But guyslike me know the Mafia is still with it. We can put the squeeze onmarks like you pretty easy.     You don't have to tell even a third generation American about theMafia. Maybe that was the trouble. I had heard too much and for toolong. All the stories I had ever heard about the Mafia, true or false,built up an unendurable threat.     All right, I'll try to help you, Carmen. But ... that is, you didn'tkill any of these people?     He snorted. I haven't killed anybody since early 1943.     Please, I said weakly. You needn't incriminate yourself with me.     I was in the Marines, Carmen said hotly. Listen, Professor, thesearen't no Prohibition times. Not many people get made for a hit thesedays. Mother, most of these bodies they keep ditching at my clubhaven't been murdered by anybody. They're accident victims. Rumbumswith too much anti-freeze for a summer's day, Spanish-American War vetsgoing to visit Teddy in the natural course of events. Harry Keno juststows them at my place to embarrass me. Figures to make me lose myliquor license or take a contempt before the Grand Jury.     I don't suppose you could just go to the police— I saw the answer inhis eyes. No. I don't suppose you could.     I told you once, Professor, but I'll tell you again. I have to get ridof these bodies they keep leaving in my kitchen. I can take 'em andthrow them in the river, sure. But what if me or my boys are stopped enroute by some tipped badge?     Quicklime? I suggested automatically.     What are you talking about? Are you sure you're some kind ofscientist? Lime doesn't do much to a stiff at all. Kind of putrifiesthem like....     I forgot, I admitted. I'd read it in so many stories I'd forgottenit wouldn't work. And I suppose the furnace leaves ashes and there'salways traces of hair and teeth in the garbage disposal... Aninteresting problem, at that.     I figured you could handle it, Carmen said, leaning back comfortablyin the favorite chair of my bachelor apartment. I heard you wereworking on something to get rid of trash for the government.     That, I told him, is restricted information. I subcontracted thatwork from the big telephone laboratories. How did you find it out?     Ways, Professor, ways.     The government did want me to find a way to dispose ofwastes—radioactive wastes. It was the most important problem anycountry could have in this time of growing atomic industry. Now asmall-time gangster was asking me to use this research to help himdispose of hot corpses. It made my scientific blood seethe. But theshadow of the Black Hand cooled it off.     Maybe I can find something in that area of research to help you, Isaid. I'll call you.     Don't take too long, Professor, Carmen said cordially.  <doc-sep>Yeah, but how does it work? Tony Carmen demanded of me, sleeking hismirror-black hair and staring up at the disk-topped drum.     Why do you care? I asked irritably. It will dispose of your bodiesfor you.     I got a reason that goes beyond the stiff, but let's stick to thatjust for now.      Where are these bodies going?     I don't want them windingup in the D.A.'s bathtub.     Why not? How could they trace them back to you?     You're the scientist, Tony said hotly. I got great respect for thosecrime lab boys. Maybe the stiff got some of my exclusive brand of talcon it, I don't know.     Listen here, Carmen, I said, what makes you think these bodies aregoing somewhere? Think of it only as a kind of—incinerator.     Not on your life, Professor. The gadget don't get hot so how can itburn? It don't use enough electricity to fry. It don't cut 'em upor crush 'em down, or dissolve them in acid. I've seen disappearingcabinets before.     Mafia or not, I saw red. Are you daring to suggest that I am workingsome trick with trap doors or sliding panels?     Easy, Professor, Carmen said, effortlessly shoving me back with onepalm. I'm not saying you have the machine rigged. It's just thatyou have to be dropping the stuff through a sliding panel in—well,everything around us. You're sliding all that aside and dropping thingsthrough. But I want to know where they wind up. Reasonable?     Carmen was an uneducated lout and a criminal but he had an instinctivefeel for the mechanics of physics.     I don't know where the stuff goes, Carmen, I finally admitted. Itmight go into another plane of existence. 'Another dimension' thewriters for the American Weekly would describe it. Or into our past, orour future.     The swarthy racketeer pursed his lips and apparently did some rapidcalculation.     I don't mind the first two, but I don't like them going into thefuture. If they do that, they may show up again in six months.     Or six million years.     You'll have to cut that future part out, Professor.     I was beginning to get a trifle impatient. All those folk tales I hadheard about the Mafia were getting more distant. See here, Carmen, Icould lie to you and say they went into the prehistoric past and youwould never know the difference. But the truth is, I just don't knowwhere the processed material goes. There's a chance it may go intothe future, yes. But unless it goes exactly one year or exactly somany years it would appear in empty space ... because the earth willhave moved from the spot it was transmitted. I don't know for sure.Perhaps the slight Deneb-ward movement of the Solar System would wrecka perfect three-point landing even then and cause the dispatchedmaterials to burn up from atmospheric friction, like meteors. You willjust have to take a chance on the future. That's the best I can do.     Carmen inhaled deeply. Okay. I'll risk it. Pretty long odds againstany squeal on the play. How many of these things can you turn out,Professor?     I can construct a duplicate of this device so that you may destroy theunwanted corpses that you would have me believe are delivered to youwith the regularity of the morning milk run.     The racketeer waved that suggestion aside. I'm talking about a bigoperation, Venetti. These things can take the place of incinerators,garbage disposals, waste baskets....     Impractical, I snorted. You don't realize the tremendous amount ofelectrical power these devices require....     Nuts! From what you said, the machine is like a TV set; it takesa lot of power to get it started, but then on it coasts on its owngenerators.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the fate of Tony Carmen in THE EXPENDABLES?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What inventions has Professor Venetti created and what is their function in THE EXPENDABLES? [SEP] <s>There's something to what you say, I admitted in the face of hisunexpected information. But I can hardly turn my invention over toyour entirely persuasive salesmen, I'm sure. This is part of theresults of an investigation for the government. Washington will haveto decide what to do with the machine.     Listen, Professor, Carmen began, the Mafia—     What makes you think I'm any more afraid of the Mafia than I am of theF.B.I.? I may have already sealed my fate by letting you in on thismuch. Machinegunning is hardly a less attractive fate to me than a poorsecurity rating. To me, being dead professionally would be as bad asbeing dead biologically.     Tony Carmen laid a heavy hand on my shoulder. I finally deduced heintended to be cordial.     Of course, he said smoothly you have to give this to Washington butthere are      ways     , Professor. I know. I'm a business man—     You      are     ? I said.     He named some of the businesses in which he held large shares of stock.     You      are     .     I've had experience in this sort of thing. We simply      leak     theinformation to a few hundred well selected persons about all that yourmachine can do. We'll call 'em Expendables, because they can expendanything.     I, I interjected, planned to call it the Venetti Machine.     Professor, who calls the radio the Marconi these days?     There are Geiger-Muller Counters, though, I said.     You don't have to give a Geiger counter the sex appeal of a TV set ora hardtop convertible. We'll call them Expendables. No home will becomplete without one.     Perfect for disposing of unwanted bodies, I mused. The murder ratewill go alarmingly with those devices within easy reach.     Did that stop Sam Colt or Henry Ford? Tony Carmen asked reasonably....     Naturally, I was aware that the government would      not     be interested inmy machine. I am not a Fortean, a psychic, a psionicist or a screwball.But the government frequently gets things it doesn't know what to dowith—like airplanes in the 'twenties. When it doesn't know what to do,it doesn't do it.     There have been hundreds of workable perpetual motion machinespatented, for example. Of course, they weren't vices in the strictestsense of the word. Many of them used the external power of gravity,they would wear out or slow down in time from friction, but for themeanwhile, for some ten to two hundred years they would just sit there,moving. No one had ever been able to figure out what to do with them.     I knew the AEC wasn't going to dump tons of radioactive waste (withsome possible future reclaimation value) into a machine which theydidn't believe actually could work.     Tony Carmen knew exactly what to do with an Expendable once he got hishands on it.     Naturally, that was what I had been afraid of.  <doc-sep>The agent of the AEC whose name I can never remember was present alongwith Tony Carmen the night my assistants finished with the work I hadoutlined.     While it was midnight outside, the fluorescents made the scene morevisible than sunlight. My Disexpendable was a medium-sized drum in atripod frame with an unturned coolie's hat at the bottom.     Breathlessly, I closed the switch and the scooped disc began slowly torevolve.     Is it my imagination, the agent asked, or is it getting cooler inhere?     Professor. Carmen gave me a warning nudge.     There was now something on the revolving disc. It was a bar of someshiny gray metal.     Kill the power, Professor, Carmen said.     Can it be, I wondered, that the machine is somehow recreating ordrawing back the processed material from some other time or dimension?     Shut the thing off, Venetti! the racketeer demanded.     But too late.     There was now a somewhat dead man sitting in the saddle of the turningcircle of metal.     If Harry Keno had only been sane when he turned up on thatmerry-go-round in Boston I feel we would have learned much of immensevalue on the nature of time and space.     As it is, I feel that it is a miscarriage of justice to hold me inconnection with the murders I am sure Tony Carmen did commit.     I hope this personal account when published will end the viciousstory supported by the district attorney that it was I who sought TonyCarmen out and offered to dispose of his enemies and that I sought hisfinancial backing for the exploitation of my invention.     This is the true, and only true, account of the development of themachine known as the Expendable.     I am only sorry, now that the temperature has been standardized oncemore, that the Expendable's antithesis, the Disexpendable, is of toolow an order of efficiency to be of much value as a power source inthese days of nuclear and solar energy. So the world is again stuckwith the problem of waste disposal ... including all that I dumpedbefore. But as a great American once said, you can't win 'em all.     If you so desire, you may send your generous and fruitful letterstowards my upcoming defense in care of this civic-minded publication.  <doc-sep>There were two small items of interest to me in the Times the followingmorning.     One two-inch story—barely making page one because of a hole to fill atthe bottom of an account of the number of victims of Indian summer heatprostration—told of the incineration of a warehouse on Fleet Street byan ingenious new arson bomb that left virtually no trace. (Maybe thefire inspector had planted a few traces to make his explanation morecreditable.)     The second item was further over in a science column just off theeditorial page. It told of the government—!—developing a new processof waste disposal rivaling the old Buck Rogers disintegrator ray.     This, I presumed, was one of Tony Carmen's information leaks.     If he hoped to arouse the public into demanding my invention Idoubted he would succeed. The public had been told repeatedly of anew radioactive process for preserving food and a painless way ofspraying injections through the skin. But they were still stuck withrefrigerators and hypodermic needles.     I had forced my way half-way through the paper and the terrible coffeeI made when the doorbell rang.     I was hardly surprised when it turned out to be Tony Carmen behind thefront door.     He pushed in, slapping a rolled newspaper in his palm. Action,Professor.     The district attorney has indicted you? I asked hopefully.     He's not even indicted      you     , Venetti. No, I got a feeler on thisplant in the      Times     .     I shook my head. The government will take over the invention, nomatter what the public wants.     The public? Who cares about the public? The Arcivox corporation wantsthis machine of yours. They have their agents tracing the plant now.They will go from the columnist to his legman to my man and finally toyou. Won't be long before they get here. An hour maybe.     Arcivox makes radios and TV sets. What do they want with theExpendables?     Opening up a new appliance line with real innovations. I hear they gota new refrigerator. All open. Just shelves—no doors or sides. Theywant a revolutionary garbage disposal too.     Do you own stock in the company? Is that how you know?     I own stock in a competitor. That's how I know, Carmen informed me.Listen, Professor, you can sell to Arcivox and still keep control ofthe patents through a separate corporation. And I'll give you 49% ofits stock.     This was Carmen's idea of a magnanimous offer for my invention. It      was     a pretty good offer—49% and my good health.     But will the government let Arcivox have the machine for commercialuse?     The government would let Arcivox have the hydrogen bomb if they founda commercial use for it.     There was a sturdy knock on the door, not a shrill ring of the bell.     That must be Arcivox now, Carmen growled. They have the bestdetectives in the business. You know what to tell them?     I knew what to tell them.  <doc-sep>The closed sedan was warm, even in early December.     Outside, the street was a progression of shadowed block forms. I wasshivering slightly, my teeth rattling like the porcelain they were. Wasthis the storied ride, I wondered?     Carmen finally returned to the car, unlatched the door and slid in. Hedid not reinsert the ignition key. I did not feel like sprinting downthe deserted street.     The boys will have it set up in a minute, Tony the racketeer informedme.     What? The firing squad?     The Expendable, of course.     Here? You dragged me out here to see how you have prostituted myinvention? I presume you've set it up with a 'Keep Our City Clean' signpasted on it.     He chuckled. It was a somewhat nasty sound, or so I imagined.     A flashlight winked in the sooty twilight.     Okay. Let's go, Tony said, slapping my shoulder.     I got out of the car, rubbing my flabby bicep. Whenever I took myteen-age daughter to the beach from my late wife's parents' home, Ifrequently found 230 pound bullies did kick sand in my ears.     The machine was installed on the corner, half covered with a gloomywhite shroud, and fearlessly plugged into the city lighting system viaa blanketed streetlamp. Two hoods hovered in a doorway ready to takecare of the first cop with a couple of fifties or a single .38, asnecessity dictated.     Tony guided my elbow. Okay, Professor, I think I understand the bitnow, but I'll let you run it up with the flagpole for me, to see how itwaves to the national anthem.     Here? I spluttered once more. I told you, Carmen, I wanted nothingmore to do with you. Your check is still on deposit....     You didn't want anything to do with me in the first place. The thug'steeth flashed in the night. Throw your contraption into gear, buddy.     That was the first time the tone of respect, even if faked, had goneout of his voice. I moved to the switchboard of my invention. Whatremained was as simple as adjusting a modern floor lamp to a mediumlight position. I flipped.     Restraining any impulse toward colloqualism, I was also deeplydisturbed by what next occurred.     One of the massive square shapes on the horizon vanished.     What have you done? I yelped, ripping the cover off the machine.     Even under the uncertain illumination of the smogged stars I could seethat the unit was half gone—in fact, exactly halved.     Squint the Seal is one of my boys. He used to be a mechanic in theold days for Burger, Madle, the guys who used to rob banks and stuff.There was an unmistakable note of boyish admiration in Carmen's voice.He figured the thing would work like that. Separate the poles and youincrease the size of the working area.     You mean square the operational field. Your idiot doesn't even knowmechanics.     No, but he knows all about how any kind of machine works.     You call that working? I demanded. Do you realize what you havethere, Carmen?     Sure. A disintegrator ray, straight out of      Startling Stories     .     My opinion as to the type of person who followed the pages ofscience-fiction magazines with fluttering lips and tracing finger wasupheld.     I looked at the old warehouse and of course didn't see it.     What was this a test for? I asked, fearful of the Frankenstein I hadmade. What are you planning to do now?     This was no test, Venetti. This was it. I just wiped out Harry Kenoand his intimates right in the middle of their confidential squat.     Good heavens. That's uncouthly old-fashioned of you, Carmen! Why,that's      murder     .     Not, Carmen said, without no      corpus delecti     .     The body of the crime remains without the body of the victim, Iremembered from my early Ellery Queen training.     You're talking too much, Professor, Tony suggested. Remember,      you     did it with      your     machine.     Yes, I said at length. And why are we standing here letting thosemachines sit there?  <doc-sep>Once seated, the AEC man said I'll get right to the point. You mayfind this troublesome, gentlemen, but your government intends toconfiscate all of the devices using your so-called Expendable field,and forever bar their manufacture in this country or their importation.     You stinking G-men aren't getting away with this, Carmen saidingratiatingly. Ever hear of the Mafia?     Not much, the young man admitted earnestly, since the FBI finishedwith its deportations a few years back.     I cleared my throat. I must admit that the destruction of amulti-billion business is disconcerting before lunch. May we ask whyyou took this step?     The agent inserted a finger between his collar and tie. Have younoticed how unseasonably warm it is?     I wondered if you had. You're going to have heat prostration if youkeep that suit coat on five minutes more.     The young man collapsed back in his chair, loosening the top button ofhis ivy league jacket, looking from my naked hide to the gossomer scrapof sport shirt Carmen wore. We have to dress inconspicuously in theservice, he panted weakly.     I nodded understandingly. What does the heat have to do with theoutlawing of the Expendables?     At first we thought there might be some truth in the folk nonsensethat nuclear tests had something to do with raising the meantemperature of the world, the AEC man said. But our scientistsquickly found they weren't to blame.     Clever of them.     Yes, they saw that the widespread use of your machines was responsiblefor the higher temperature. Your device violates the law ofconservation of energy,      seemingly     . It      seemingly     destroys matterwithout creating energy. Actually—     He paused dramatically.     Actually, your device added the energy it created in destroying matterto the energy potential of the planet in the form of      heat     . You seewhat that means? If your devices continue in operation, the meantemperature of Earth will rise to the point where we burst into flame.They must be outlawed!     I agree, I said reluctantly.     Tony Carmen spoke up. No, you don't, Professor. We don't agree tothat.     I waved his protests aside.     I      would     agree, I said, except that it wouldn't work. Explain thedanger to the public, let them feel the heat rise themselves, and theywill hoard Expendables against seizure and continue to use them, untilwe do burst into flame, as you put it so religiously.     Why? the young man demanded.     Because Expendables are convenient. There is a ban on frivolous useof water due to the dire need. But the police still have to go stoppeople from watering lawns, and I suspect not a few swimming pools arebeing filled on the sly. Water is somebody else's worry. So will begenerating enough heat to turn Eden into Hell.     Mass psychology isn't my strongest point, the young man saidworriedly. But I suspect you may be right. Then—we'll be damned?     No, not necessarily, I told him comfortingly. All we have to do is      use up     the excess energy with engines of a specific design.     But can we design those engines in time? the young man wondered withuncharacteristic gloom.     Certainly, I said, practising the power of positive thinking. Nowthat your world-wide testing laboratories have confirmed a vague fearof mine, I can easily reverse the field of the Expendable device andcreate a rather low-efficiency engine that consumes the excess energyin our planetary potential.  <doc-sep>I peeled off my wet shirt and threw it across the corner of my desk,casting a reproving eye at the pastel air-conditioner in the window. Itwasn't really the machine's fault—The water department reported thereservoir too low to run water-cooled systems. It would be a day or twobefore I could get the gas type into my office.     Miss Brown, my secretary, was getting a good look at my pale, bonychest. Well, for the salary she got, she could stand to look. Ofcourse, she herself was wearing a modest one-strap sun dress, notshorts and halters like some of the girls.     My, she observed it certainly is humid for March, isn't it,Professor Venetti?     I agreed that it was.     She got her pad and pencil ready.     Wheedling form letter to Better Mousetraps. Where are our royaltiesfor the last quarter of the year? We know we didn't have a full threemonths with our Expendable Field in operation on the new traps, but wewant the payola for what we have coming.     Condescending form letter to Humane Lethal Equipment. Absolutely donot send the California penal system any chambers equipped with ourpatented field until legislature officially approves them. We got awaywith it in New Mexico, but we're older and wiser now.     Rush priority telegram to President, United States, any time inthe next ten days. Thanks for citation, et cetera. Glad buddy systemworking out well in training battlefield disintegrator teams.     Indignant form letter to Arcivox. We do not feel we are properly aco-respondent in your damage suits. Small children and appliances havealways been a problem, viz ice boxes and refrigerators. Suggest you puta more complicated latch on the handles of the dangerously inferiordoors you have covering our efficient, patented field.     I leaned back and took a breather. There was no getting around it—Ijust wasn't happy as a business man. I had been counting on being onlya figurehead in the Expendable Patent Holding Corporation, but TonyCarmen didn't like office work. And he hadn't anyone he trusted anymore than me. Even.     I jerked open a drawer and pulled off a paper towel from the roll Ihad stolen in the men's room. Scrubbing my chest and neck with it, Ismoothed it out and dropped it into the wastebasket. It slid down thetapering sides and through the narrow slot above the Expendable Field.I had redesigned the wastebaskets after a janitor had stepped in one.But Gimpy was happy now, with the $50,000 we paid him.     I opened my mouth and Miss Brown's pencil perked up its eraser,reflecting her fierce alertness.     Tony Carmen banged open the door, and I closed my mouth.     G-men on the way here, he blurted and collapsed into a chair oppositeMiss Brown.     Don't revert to type, I warned him. What kind of G-Men? FBI? FCC?CIA? FDA? USTD?     Investigators for the Atomic Energy Commission.     The solemn, conservatively dressed young man in the door touched theedge of his snap-brim hat as he said it.     Miss Brown, would you mind letting our visitor use your chair? Iasked.     Not at all, sir, she said dreamily.     May I suggest, I said, that we might get more business done if youthen removed yourself from the chair first.     Miss Brown leaped to her feet with a healthy galvanic response and quitthe vicinity with her usual efficiency.  <doc-sep>   THE EXPENDABLES     BY JIM HARMON     It was just a little black box,     useful for getting rid of things.     Trouble was, it worked too well!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, May 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      You see my problem, Professor? Tony Carmen held his pinkly manicured,flashily ringed hands wide.     I saw his problem and it was warmly embarrassing.     Really, Mr. Carmen, I said, this isn't the sort of thing you discusswith a total stranger. I'm not a doctor—not of medicine, anyway—or alawyer.     They can't help me. I need an operator in your line.     I work for the United States government. I can't become involved inanything illegal.     Carmen smoothed down the front of his too-tight midnight blue suit andtouched the diamond sticking in his silver tie. You can't, ProfessorVenetti? Ever hear of the Mafia?     I've heard of it, I said uneasily. An old fraternal organizationsomething like the Moose or Rosicrucians, founded in Sicily. Itallegedly controls organized crime in the U.S. But that is aresponsibility-eluding myth that honest Italian-Americans are stampingout. We don't even like to see the word in print.     I can understand      honest     Italian-Americans feeling that way. But guyslike me know the Mafia is still with it. We can put the squeeze onmarks like you pretty easy.     You don't have to tell even a third generation American about theMafia. Maybe that was the trouble. I had heard too much and for toolong. All the stories I had ever heard about the Mafia, true or false,built up an unendurable threat.     All right, I'll try to help you, Carmen. But ... that is, you didn'tkill any of these people?     He snorted. I haven't killed anybody since early 1943.     Please, I said weakly. You needn't incriminate yourself with me.     I was in the Marines, Carmen said hotly. Listen, Professor, thesearen't no Prohibition times. Not many people get made for a hit thesedays. Mother, most of these bodies they keep ditching at my clubhaven't been murdered by anybody. They're accident victims. Rumbumswith too much anti-freeze for a summer's day, Spanish-American War vetsgoing to visit Teddy in the natural course of events. Harry Keno juststows them at my place to embarrass me. Figures to make me lose myliquor license or take a contempt before the Grand Jury.     I don't suppose you could just go to the police— I saw the answer inhis eyes. No. I don't suppose you could.     I told you once, Professor, but I'll tell you again. I have to get ridof these bodies they keep leaving in my kitchen. I can take 'em andthrow them in the river, sure. But what if me or my boys are stopped enroute by some tipped badge?     Quicklime? I suggested automatically.     What are you talking about? Are you sure you're some kind ofscientist? Lime doesn't do much to a stiff at all. Kind of putrifiesthem like....     I forgot, I admitted. I'd read it in so many stories I'd forgottenit wouldn't work. And I suppose the furnace leaves ashes and there'salways traces of hair and teeth in the garbage disposal... Aninteresting problem, at that.     I figured you could handle it, Carmen said, leaning back comfortablyin the favorite chair of my bachelor apartment. I heard you wereworking on something to get rid of trash for the government.     That, I told him, is restricted information. I subcontracted thatwork from the big telephone laboratories. How did you find it out?     Ways, Professor, ways.     The government did want me to find a way to dispose ofwastes—radioactive wastes. It was the most important problem anycountry could have in this time of growing atomic industry. Now asmall-time gangster was asking me to use this research to help himdispose of hot corpses. It made my scientific blood seethe. But theshadow of the Black Hand cooled it off.     Maybe I can find something in that area of research to help you, Isaid. I'll call you.     Don't take too long, Professor, Carmen said cordially.  <doc-sep>Yeah, but how does it work? Tony Carmen demanded of me, sleeking hismirror-black hair and staring up at the disk-topped drum.     Why do you care? I asked irritably. It will dispose of your bodiesfor you.     I got a reason that goes beyond the stiff, but let's stick to thatjust for now.      Where are these bodies going?     I don't want them windingup in the D.A.'s bathtub.     Why not? How could they trace them back to you?     You're the scientist, Tony said hotly. I got great respect for thosecrime lab boys. Maybe the stiff got some of my exclusive brand of talcon it, I don't know.     Listen here, Carmen, I said, what makes you think these bodies aregoing somewhere? Think of it only as a kind of—incinerator.     Not on your life, Professor. The gadget don't get hot so how can itburn? It don't use enough electricity to fry. It don't cut 'em upor crush 'em down, or dissolve them in acid. I've seen disappearingcabinets before.     Mafia or not, I saw red. Are you daring to suggest that I am workingsome trick with trap doors or sliding panels?     Easy, Professor, Carmen said, effortlessly shoving me back with onepalm. I'm not saying you have the machine rigged. It's just thatyou have to be dropping the stuff through a sliding panel in—well,everything around us. You're sliding all that aside and dropping thingsthrough. But I want to know where they wind up. Reasonable?     Carmen was an uneducated lout and a criminal but he had an instinctivefeel for the mechanics of physics.     I don't know where the stuff goes, Carmen, I finally admitted. Itmight go into another plane of existence. 'Another dimension' thewriters for the American Weekly would describe it. Or into our past, orour future.     The swarthy racketeer pursed his lips and apparently did some rapidcalculation.     I don't mind the first two, but I don't like them going into thefuture. If they do that, they may show up again in six months.     Or six million years.     You'll have to cut that future part out, Professor.     I was beginning to get a trifle impatient. All those folk tales I hadheard about the Mafia were getting more distant. See here, Carmen, Icould lie to you and say they went into the prehistoric past and youwould never know the difference. But the truth is, I just don't knowwhere the processed material goes. There's a chance it may go intothe future, yes. But unless it goes exactly one year or exactly somany years it would appear in empty space ... because the earth willhave moved from the spot it was transmitted. I don't know for sure.Perhaps the slight Deneb-ward movement of the Solar System would wrecka perfect three-point landing even then and cause the dispatchedmaterials to burn up from atmospheric friction, like meteors. You willjust have to take a chance on the future. That's the best I can do.     Carmen inhaled deeply. Okay. I'll risk it. Pretty long odds againstany squeal on the play. How many of these things can you turn out,Professor?     I can construct a duplicate of this device so that you may destroy theunwanted corpses that you would have me believe are delivered to youwith the regularity of the morning milk run.     The racketeer waved that suggestion aside. I'm talking about a bigoperation, Venetti. These things can take the place of incinerators,garbage disposals, waste baskets....     Impractical, I snorted. You don't realize the tremendous amount ofelectrical power these devices require....     Nuts! From what you said, the machine is like a TV set; it takesa lot of power to get it started, but then on it coasts on its owngenerators.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What inventions has Professor Venetti created and what is their function in THE EXPENDABLES?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"In what ways does the story of THE EXPENDABLES delve into the topic of climate change? [SEP] <s>There's something to what you say, I admitted in the face of hisunexpected information. But I can hardly turn my invention over toyour entirely persuasive salesmen, I'm sure. This is part of theresults of an investigation for the government. Washington will haveto decide what to do with the machine.     Listen, Professor, Carmen began, the Mafia—     What makes you think I'm any more afraid of the Mafia than I am of theF.B.I.? I may have already sealed my fate by letting you in on thismuch. Machinegunning is hardly a less attractive fate to me than a poorsecurity rating. To me, being dead professionally would be as bad asbeing dead biologically.     Tony Carmen laid a heavy hand on my shoulder. I finally deduced heintended to be cordial.     Of course, he said smoothly you have to give this to Washington butthere are      ways     , Professor. I know. I'm a business man—     You      are     ? I said.     He named some of the businesses in which he held large shares of stock.     You      are     .     I've had experience in this sort of thing. We simply      leak     theinformation to a few hundred well selected persons about all that yourmachine can do. We'll call 'em Expendables, because they can expendanything.     I, I interjected, planned to call it the Venetti Machine.     Professor, who calls the radio the Marconi these days?     There are Geiger-Muller Counters, though, I said.     You don't have to give a Geiger counter the sex appeal of a TV set ora hardtop convertible. We'll call them Expendables. No home will becomplete without one.     Perfect for disposing of unwanted bodies, I mused. The murder ratewill go alarmingly with those devices within easy reach.     Did that stop Sam Colt or Henry Ford? Tony Carmen asked reasonably....     Naturally, I was aware that the government would      not     be interested inmy machine. I am not a Fortean, a psychic, a psionicist or a screwball.But the government frequently gets things it doesn't know what to dowith—like airplanes in the 'twenties. When it doesn't know what to do,it doesn't do it.     There have been hundreds of workable perpetual motion machinespatented, for example. Of course, they weren't vices in the strictestsense of the word. Many of them used the external power of gravity,they would wear out or slow down in time from friction, but for themeanwhile, for some ten to two hundred years they would just sit there,moving. No one had ever been able to figure out what to do with them.     I knew the AEC wasn't going to dump tons of radioactive waste (withsome possible future reclaimation value) into a machine which theydidn't believe actually could work.     Tony Carmen knew exactly what to do with an Expendable once he got hishands on it.     Naturally, that was what I had been afraid of.  <doc-sep>Once seated, the AEC man said I'll get right to the point. You mayfind this troublesome, gentlemen, but your government intends toconfiscate all of the devices using your so-called Expendable field,and forever bar their manufacture in this country or their importation.     You stinking G-men aren't getting away with this, Carmen saidingratiatingly. Ever hear of the Mafia?     Not much, the young man admitted earnestly, since the FBI finishedwith its deportations a few years back.     I cleared my throat. I must admit that the destruction of amulti-billion business is disconcerting before lunch. May we ask whyyou took this step?     The agent inserted a finger between his collar and tie. Have younoticed how unseasonably warm it is?     I wondered if you had. You're going to have heat prostration if youkeep that suit coat on five minutes more.     The young man collapsed back in his chair, loosening the top button ofhis ivy league jacket, looking from my naked hide to the gossomer scrapof sport shirt Carmen wore. We have to dress inconspicuously in theservice, he panted weakly.     I nodded understandingly. What does the heat have to do with theoutlawing of the Expendables?     At first we thought there might be some truth in the folk nonsensethat nuclear tests had something to do with raising the meantemperature of the world, the AEC man said. But our scientistsquickly found they weren't to blame.     Clever of them.     Yes, they saw that the widespread use of your machines was responsiblefor the higher temperature. Your device violates the law ofconservation of energy,      seemingly     . It      seemingly     destroys matterwithout creating energy. Actually—     He paused dramatically.     Actually, your device added the energy it created in destroying matterto the energy potential of the planet in the form of      heat     . You seewhat that means? If your devices continue in operation, the meantemperature of Earth will rise to the point where we burst into flame.They must be outlawed!     I agree, I said reluctantly.     Tony Carmen spoke up. No, you don't, Professor. We don't agree tothat.     I waved his protests aside.     I      would     agree, I said, except that it wouldn't work. Explain thedanger to the public, let them feel the heat rise themselves, and theywill hoard Expendables against seizure and continue to use them, untilwe do burst into flame, as you put it so religiously.     Why? the young man demanded.     Because Expendables are convenient. There is a ban on frivolous useof water due to the dire need. But the police still have to go stoppeople from watering lawns, and I suspect not a few swimming pools arebeing filled on the sly. Water is somebody else's worry. So will begenerating enough heat to turn Eden into Hell.     Mass psychology isn't my strongest point, the young man saidworriedly. But I suspect you may be right. Then—we'll be damned?     No, not necessarily, I told him comfortingly. All we have to do is      use up     the excess energy with engines of a specific design.     But can we design those engines in time? the young man wondered withuncharacteristic gloom.     Certainly, I said, practising the power of positive thinking. Nowthat your world-wide testing laboratories have confirmed a vague fearof mine, I can easily reverse the field of the Expendable device andcreate a rather low-efficiency engine that consumes the excess energyin our planetary potential.  <doc-sep>It wasn't very big, the thing that had been his shining dream. It laythere in its rough cradle, a globe of raw dura-steel not more thanfive hundred meters in diameter, where the      Citadel     was to have been athousand. It wouldn't house a hundred scientists, eagerly delving intothe hinterland of research. The huge compartments weren't filled withthe latest equipment for chemical and physical experiment; instead,there was compressed oxygen there, and concentrated food, enough tolast a lifetime.     It was a new world, all by itself; or else it was a tomb. And there wasone other change, one that you couldn't see from the outside. The solidmeters of lead in its outer skin, the shielding to keep out cosmicrays, were gone.     A man had just finished engraving the final stroke on its nameplate, tothe left of the airlock—      The Avenger     . He stepped away now, and joinedthe group a little distance away, silently waiting.     Lorelei said, You can't do it. I won't let you! Peter—     Darling, he began wearily.     Don't throw your life away! Give us time—there must be another way.     There's no other way, Peter said. He gripped her arms tightly, as ifhe could compel her to understand by the sheer pressure of his fingers.Darling, listen to me. We've tried everything. We've gone underground,but that's only delaying the end.      They     still come down here, only notas many. The mortality rate is up, the suicide rate is up, the birthrate is down, in spite of anything we can do. You've seen the figures:we're riding a curve that ends in extinction fifty years from now.     They'll live, and we'll die, because they're a superior race. We're amillion years too far back even to understand what they are or wherethey came from. Besides them, we're apes. There's only one answer.     She was crying now, silently, with great racking sobs that shook herslender body. But he went remorselessly on.     Out there, in space, the cosmics change unshielded life. Theymake tentacles out of arms; or scales out of hair; or twelve toes,or a dozen ears—or a better brain. Out of those millions ofpossible mutations, there's one that will save the human race. Wecan't fight      them     , but a superman could. That's our only chance.Lorelei—darling—don't you see that?     She choked, But why can't you take me along?     He stared unseeingly past her wet, upturned face. You know why, hesaid bitterly. Those rays are strong. They don't only work on embryos;they change adult life forms, too. I have one chance in seven ofstaying alive. You'd have one chance in a million of staying beautiful.I couldn't stand that. I'd kill myself, and then humanity would die,too. You'd be their murderer.     Her sobs gradually died away. She straightened slowly until he nolonger had to support her, but all the vitality and resilience was goneout of her body. All right, she said in a lifeless voice. You'llcome back, Peter.     He turned away suddenly, not trusting himself to kiss her goodbye. Aline from an old film kept echoing through his head.       They'll     comeback—but not as      boys     !     We'll come back, but not as men.     We'll come back, but not as elephants.     We'll come back, but not as octopi.  <doc-sep>I peeled off my wet shirt and threw it across the corner of my desk,casting a reproving eye at the pastel air-conditioner in the window. Itwasn't really the machine's fault—The water department reported thereservoir too low to run water-cooled systems. It would be a day or twobefore I could get the gas type into my office.     Miss Brown, my secretary, was getting a good look at my pale, bonychest. Well, for the salary she got, she could stand to look. Ofcourse, she herself was wearing a modest one-strap sun dress, notshorts and halters like some of the girls.     My, she observed it certainly is humid for March, isn't it,Professor Venetti?     I agreed that it was.     She got her pad and pencil ready.     Wheedling form letter to Better Mousetraps. Where are our royaltiesfor the last quarter of the year? We know we didn't have a full threemonths with our Expendable Field in operation on the new traps, but wewant the payola for what we have coming.     Condescending form letter to Humane Lethal Equipment. Absolutely donot send the California penal system any chambers equipped with ourpatented field until legislature officially approves them. We got awaywith it in New Mexico, but we're older and wiser now.     Rush priority telegram to President, United States, any time inthe next ten days. Thanks for citation, et cetera. Glad buddy systemworking out well in training battlefield disintegrator teams.     Indignant form letter to Arcivox. We do not feel we are properly aco-respondent in your damage suits. Small children and appliances havealways been a problem, viz ice boxes and refrigerators. Suggest you puta more complicated latch on the handles of the dangerously inferiordoors you have covering our efficient, patented field.     I leaned back and took a breather. There was no getting around it—Ijust wasn't happy as a business man. I had been counting on being onlya figurehead in the Expendable Patent Holding Corporation, but TonyCarmen didn't like office work. And he hadn't anyone he trusted anymore than me. Even.     I jerked open a drawer and pulled off a paper towel from the roll Ihad stolen in the men's room. Scrubbing my chest and neck with it, Ismoothed it out and dropped it into the wastebasket. It slid down thetapering sides and through the narrow slot above the Expendable Field.I had redesigned the wastebaskets after a janitor had stepped in one.But Gimpy was happy now, with the $50,000 we paid him.     I opened my mouth and Miss Brown's pencil perked up its eraser,reflecting her fierce alertness.     Tony Carmen banged open the door, and I closed my mouth.     G-men on the way here, he blurted and collapsed into a chair oppositeMiss Brown.     Don't revert to type, I warned him. What kind of G-Men? FBI? FCC?CIA? FDA? USTD?     Investigators for the Atomic Energy Commission.     The solemn, conservatively dressed young man in the door touched theedge of his snap-brim hat as he said it.     Miss Brown, would you mind letting our visitor use your chair? Iasked.     Not at all, sir, she said dreamily.     May I suggest, I said, that we might get more business done if youthen removed yourself from the chair first.     Miss Brown leaped to her feet with a healthy galvanic response and quitthe vicinity with her usual efficiency.  <doc-sep>The agent of the AEC whose name I can never remember was present alongwith Tony Carmen the night my assistants finished with the work I hadoutlined.     While it was midnight outside, the fluorescents made the scene morevisible than sunlight. My Disexpendable was a medium-sized drum in atripod frame with an unturned coolie's hat at the bottom.     Breathlessly, I closed the switch and the scooped disc began slowly torevolve.     Is it my imagination, the agent asked, or is it getting cooler inhere?     Professor. Carmen gave me a warning nudge.     There was now something on the revolving disc. It was a bar of someshiny gray metal.     Kill the power, Professor, Carmen said.     Can it be, I wondered, that the machine is somehow recreating ordrawing back the processed material from some other time or dimension?     Shut the thing off, Venetti! the racketeer demanded.     But too late.     There was now a somewhat dead man sitting in the saddle of the turningcircle of metal.     If Harry Keno had only been sane when he turned up on thatmerry-go-round in Boston I feel we would have learned much of immensevalue on the nature of time and space.     As it is, I feel that it is a miscarriage of justice to hold me inconnection with the murders I am sure Tony Carmen did commit.     I hope this personal account when published will end the viciousstory supported by the district attorney that it was I who sought TonyCarmen out and offered to dispose of his enemies and that I sought hisfinancial backing for the exploitation of my invention.     This is the true, and only true, account of the development of themachine known as the Expendable.     I am only sorry, now that the temperature has been standardized oncemore, that the Expendable's antithesis, the Disexpendable, is of toolow an order of efficiency to be of much value as a power source inthese days of nuclear and solar energy. So the world is again stuckwith the problem of waste disposal ... including all that I dumpedbefore. But as a great American once said, you can't win 'em all.     If you so desire, you may send your generous and fruitful letterstowards my upcoming defense in care of this civic-minded publication.  <doc-sep>Raymond flushed a delicate pink. Do you want to hear the rest of thisor don't you?     Oh, I do! Martin said. He had pieced the whole thing together forhimself long since, but he wanted to hear how Raymond would put it.     Unfortunately, Professor Farkas has just perfected the timetransmitter. Those government scientists are so infernallyofficious—always inventing such senseless things. It's supposed tobe hush-hush, but you know how news will leak out when one is alwaysdesperate for a fresh topic of conversation.     Anyhow, Raymond went on to explain, Conrad had bribed one of Farkas'assistants for a set of the plans. Conrad's idea had been to go backin time and eliminate! their common great-grandfather. In that way,there would be no space-drive, and, hence, the Terrestrials would neverget to the other planets and oppress the local aborigines.     Sounds like a good way of dealing with the problem, Martin observed.     Raymond looked annoyed. It's the      adolescent     way, he said, to doaway with it, rather than find a solution. Would you destroy a wholesociety in order to root out a single injustice?     Not if it were a good one otherwise.     Well, there's your answer. Conrad got the apparatus built, or perhapshe built it himself. One doesn't inquire too closely into suchmatters. But when it came to the point, Conrad couldn't bear the ideaof eliminating our great-grandfather—because our great-grandfatherwas such a      good     man, you know. Raymond's expressive upper lipcurled. So Conrad decided to go further back still and get rid ofhis great-grandfather's father—who'd been, by all accounts, a prettyworthless character.     That would be me, I suppose, Martin said quietly.     Raymond turned a deep rose. Well, doesn't that just go to prove youmustn't believe everything you hear? The next sentence tumbled out ina rush. I wormed the whole thing out of him and all of us—the othercousins and me—held a council of war, as it were, and we decided itwas our moral duty to go back in time ourselves and protect you. Hebeamed at Martin.     The boy smiled slowly. Of course. You had to. If Conrad succeeded in      eliminating     me, then none of you would exist, would you?     Raymond frowned. Then he shrugged cheerfully. Well, you didn't reallysuppose we were going to all this trouble and expense out of sheeraltruism, did you? he asked, turning on the charm which all thecousins possessed to a consternating degree.  <doc-sep>Casper Craig was still dictating the gram:     Amazing quality of longevity seemingly inherent in the locale. Climateideal. Daylight or half-light. All twenty-one hours from PlanetDelphina and from Sol. Pure water for all industrial purposes. Scenicand storied. Zoning and pre-settlement restrictions to insure congenialneighbors. A completely planned globular settlement in a near arm ofour own galaxy. Low taxes and liberal credit. Financing our specialty—     And you had better have an armed escort when you return, said FatherBriton.     Why in cosmos would we want an armed escort?     It's as phony as a seven-credit note!     You, a man of the cloth doubt it? And us ready skeptics convinced byour senses? Why do you doubt?     It is only the unbelieving who believe so easily in obvious frauds.Theologically unsound, dramaturgically weak, philologically impossible,zoologically rigged, salted conspicuously with gold and shot throughwith anachronisms. And moreover he was afraid to play me at checkers.     What?     If I have a preternatural intellect I wouldn't be afraid of a game ofcheckers with anyone. Yet there was an unusual mind there somewhere; itwas just that he chose not to make our acquaintance personally.     They looked at the priest thoughtfully.     But it was Paradise in one way, said Steiner at last.     How?     All the time we were there the woman did not speak.  <doc-sep>   GOURMET     By ALLEN KIM LANG     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine April 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]         This was the endless problem of all       spaceship cooks: He had to feed the men       tomorrow on what they had eaten today!        Unable to get out to the ballgame and a long way off from the girls,men on ships think about, talk about, bitch about their food. It'strue that Woman remains a topic of thoughtful study, but discussioncan never replace practice in an art. Food, on the other hand, is achallenge shipmen face three times a day, so central to their thoughtsthat a history of sea-faring can be read from a commissary list.     In the days when salt-sea sailors were charting islands and spearingseals, for example, the fo'c's'le hands called themselves Lobscousers,celebrating the liquid hash then prominent in the marine menu. TheLimey sailor got the name of the anti-scorbutic citrus squeezed intohis diet, a fruit known to us mariners of a more sophisticated ageonly as garnish for our groundside gin-and-tonic. And today we Marsmenare called Slimeheads, honoring in our title the      Chlorella     and      Scenedesmus     algae that, by filling up the spaces within, open theroad to the larger Space without.     Should any groundsman dispute the importance of belly-furniture inhistory—whether it be exterminating whales, or introducing syphilisto the Fiji Islanders, or settling the Australian littoral withcross-coves from Middlesex and Hampshire—he is referred to thehundred-and-first chapter of      Moby Dick     , a book spooled in theamusement tanks of all but the smallest spacers. I trust, however, thatno Marsman will undertake to review this inventory of refreshment morethan a week from groundfall. A catalogue of sides of beef and heads ofLeyden cheese and ankers of good Geneva would prove heavy reading for aman condemned to snack on the Chlorella-spawn of cis-Martian space.     The      Pequod's     crew ate wormy biscuit and salt beef. Nimitz's men wontheir war on canned pork and beans. The      Triton     made her underwaterperiplus of Earth with a galley stocked with frozen pizza andconcentrated apple-juice. But then, when sailors left the seas for theskies, a decline set in.     The first amenity of groundside existence to be abandoned was decentfood. The earliest men into the vacuum swallowed protein squeezingsfrom aluminum tubes, and were glad enough to drop back to thegroundsman's diet of steak and fried potatoes.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] In what ways does the story of THE EXPENDABLES delve into the topic of climate change?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How does THE EXPENDABLES delve into the theme of capitalism? [SEP] <s>Once seated, the AEC man said I'll get right to the point. You mayfind this troublesome, gentlemen, but your government intends toconfiscate all of the devices using your so-called Expendable field,and forever bar their manufacture in this country or their importation.     You stinking G-men aren't getting away with this, Carmen saidingratiatingly. Ever hear of the Mafia?     Not much, the young man admitted earnestly, since the FBI finishedwith its deportations a few years back.     I cleared my throat. I must admit that the destruction of amulti-billion business is disconcerting before lunch. May we ask whyyou took this step?     The agent inserted a finger between his collar and tie. Have younoticed how unseasonably warm it is?     I wondered if you had. You're going to have heat prostration if youkeep that suit coat on five minutes more.     The young man collapsed back in his chair, loosening the top button ofhis ivy league jacket, looking from my naked hide to the gossomer scrapof sport shirt Carmen wore. We have to dress inconspicuously in theservice, he panted weakly.     I nodded understandingly. What does the heat have to do with theoutlawing of the Expendables?     At first we thought there might be some truth in the folk nonsensethat nuclear tests had something to do with raising the meantemperature of the world, the AEC man said. But our scientistsquickly found they weren't to blame.     Clever of them.     Yes, they saw that the widespread use of your machines was responsiblefor the higher temperature. Your device violates the law ofconservation of energy,      seemingly     . It      seemingly     destroys matterwithout creating energy. Actually—     He paused dramatically.     Actually, your device added the energy it created in destroying matterto the energy potential of the planet in the form of      heat     . You seewhat that means? If your devices continue in operation, the meantemperature of Earth will rise to the point where we burst into flame.They must be outlawed!     I agree, I said reluctantly.     Tony Carmen spoke up. No, you don't, Professor. We don't agree tothat.     I waved his protests aside.     I      would     agree, I said, except that it wouldn't work. Explain thedanger to the public, let them feel the heat rise themselves, and theywill hoard Expendables against seizure and continue to use them, untilwe do burst into flame, as you put it so religiously.     Why? the young man demanded.     Because Expendables are convenient. There is a ban on frivolous useof water due to the dire need. But the police still have to go stoppeople from watering lawns, and I suspect not a few swimming pools arebeing filled on the sly. Water is somebody else's worry. So will begenerating enough heat to turn Eden into Hell.     Mass psychology isn't my strongest point, the young man saidworriedly. But I suspect you may be right. Then—we'll be damned?     No, not necessarily, I told him comfortingly. All we have to do is      use up     the excess energy with engines of a specific design.     But can we design those engines in time? the young man wondered withuncharacteristic gloom.     Certainly, I said, practising the power of positive thinking. Nowthat your world-wide testing laboratories have confirmed a vague fearof mine, I can easily reverse the field of the Expendable device andcreate a rather low-efficiency engine that consumes the excess energyin our planetary potential.  <doc-sep>There's something to what you say, I admitted in the face of hisunexpected information. But I can hardly turn my invention over toyour entirely persuasive salesmen, I'm sure. This is part of theresults of an investigation for the government. Washington will haveto decide what to do with the machine.     Listen, Professor, Carmen began, the Mafia—     What makes you think I'm any more afraid of the Mafia than I am of theF.B.I.? I may have already sealed my fate by letting you in on thismuch. Machinegunning is hardly a less attractive fate to me than a poorsecurity rating. To me, being dead professionally would be as bad asbeing dead biologically.     Tony Carmen laid a heavy hand on my shoulder. I finally deduced heintended to be cordial.     Of course, he said smoothly you have to give this to Washington butthere are      ways     , Professor. I know. I'm a business man—     You      are     ? I said.     He named some of the businesses in which he held large shares of stock.     You      are     .     I've had experience in this sort of thing. We simply      leak     theinformation to a few hundred well selected persons about all that yourmachine can do. We'll call 'em Expendables, because they can expendanything.     I, I interjected, planned to call it the Venetti Machine.     Professor, who calls the radio the Marconi these days?     There are Geiger-Muller Counters, though, I said.     You don't have to give a Geiger counter the sex appeal of a TV set ora hardtop convertible. We'll call them Expendables. No home will becomplete without one.     Perfect for disposing of unwanted bodies, I mused. The murder ratewill go alarmingly with those devices within easy reach.     Did that stop Sam Colt or Henry Ford? Tony Carmen asked reasonably....     Naturally, I was aware that the government would      not     be interested inmy machine. I am not a Fortean, a psychic, a psionicist or a screwball.But the government frequently gets things it doesn't know what to dowith—like airplanes in the 'twenties. When it doesn't know what to do,it doesn't do it.     There have been hundreds of workable perpetual motion machinespatented, for example. Of course, they weren't vices in the strictestsense of the word. Many of them used the external power of gravity,they would wear out or slow down in time from friction, but for themeanwhile, for some ten to two hundred years they would just sit there,moving. No one had ever been able to figure out what to do with them.     I knew the AEC wasn't going to dump tons of radioactive waste (withsome possible future reclaimation value) into a machine which theydidn't believe actually could work.     Tony Carmen knew exactly what to do with an Expendable once he got hishands on it.     Naturally, that was what I had been afraid of.  <doc-sep>Outside in the corridor, Magnan came up to Retief, who stood talking toa tall man in a pilot's coverall.     I'll be tied up, sending through full details on my—our—yourrecruiting theme, Retief, Magnan said. Suppose you run into the cityto assist the new Verpp Consul in settling in.     I'll do that, Mr. Magnan. Anything else?     Magnan raised his eyebrows. You're remarkably compliant today, Retief.I'll arrange transportation.     Don't bother, Mr. Magnan. Cy here will run me over. He was the pilotwho ferried us over to Roolit I, you recall.     I'll be with you as soon as I pack a few phone numbers, Retief, thepilot said. He moved off. Magnan followed him with a disapproving eye.An uncouth sort, I fancied. I trust you're not consorting with hiskind socially.     I wouldn't say that, exactly, Retief said. We just want to go over afew figures together.   <doc-sep>I peeled off my wet shirt and threw it across the corner of my desk,casting a reproving eye at the pastel air-conditioner in the window. Itwasn't really the machine's fault—The water department reported thereservoir too low to run water-cooled systems. It would be a day or twobefore I could get the gas type into my office.     Miss Brown, my secretary, was getting a good look at my pale, bonychest. Well, for the salary she got, she could stand to look. Ofcourse, she herself was wearing a modest one-strap sun dress, notshorts and halters like some of the girls.     My, she observed it certainly is humid for March, isn't it,Professor Venetti?     I agreed that it was.     She got her pad and pencil ready.     Wheedling form letter to Better Mousetraps. Where are our royaltiesfor the last quarter of the year? We know we didn't have a full threemonths with our Expendable Field in operation on the new traps, but wewant the payola for what we have coming.     Condescending form letter to Humane Lethal Equipment. Absolutely donot send the California penal system any chambers equipped with ourpatented field until legislature officially approves them. We got awaywith it in New Mexico, but we're older and wiser now.     Rush priority telegram to President, United States, any time inthe next ten days. Thanks for citation, et cetera. Glad buddy systemworking out well in training battlefield disintegrator teams.     Indignant form letter to Arcivox. We do not feel we are properly aco-respondent in your damage suits. Small children and appliances havealways been a problem, viz ice boxes and refrigerators. Suggest you puta more complicated latch on the handles of the dangerously inferiordoors you have covering our efficient, patented field.     I leaned back and took a breather. There was no getting around it—Ijust wasn't happy as a business man. I had been counting on being onlya figurehead in the Expendable Patent Holding Corporation, but TonyCarmen didn't like office work. And he hadn't anyone he trusted anymore than me. Even.     I jerked open a drawer and pulled off a paper towel from the roll Ihad stolen in the men's room. Scrubbing my chest and neck with it, Ismoothed it out and dropped it into the wastebasket. It slid down thetapering sides and through the narrow slot above the Expendable Field.I had redesigned the wastebaskets after a janitor had stepped in one.But Gimpy was happy now, with the $50,000 we paid him.     I opened my mouth and Miss Brown's pencil perked up its eraser,reflecting her fierce alertness.     Tony Carmen banged open the door, and I closed my mouth.     G-men on the way here, he blurted and collapsed into a chair oppositeMiss Brown.     Don't revert to type, I warned him. What kind of G-Men? FBI? FCC?CIA? FDA? USTD?     Investigators for the Atomic Energy Commission.     The solemn, conservatively dressed young man in the door touched theedge of his snap-brim hat as he said it.     Miss Brown, would you mind letting our visitor use your chair? Iasked.     Not at all, sir, she said dreamily.     May I suggest, I said, that we might get more business done if youthen removed yourself from the chair first.     Miss Brown leaped to her feet with a healthy galvanic response and quitthe vicinity with her usual efficiency.  <doc-sep>The agent of the AEC whose name I can never remember was present alongwith Tony Carmen the night my assistants finished with the work I hadoutlined.     While it was midnight outside, the fluorescents made the scene morevisible than sunlight. My Disexpendable was a medium-sized drum in atripod frame with an unturned coolie's hat at the bottom.     Breathlessly, I closed the switch and the scooped disc began slowly torevolve.     Is it my imagination, the agent asked, or is it getting cooler inhere?     Professor. Carmen gave me a warning nudge.     There was now something on the revolving disc. It was a bar of someshiny gray metal.     Kill the power, Professor, Carmen said.     Can it be, I wondered, that the machine is somehow recreating ordrawing back the processed material from some other time or dimension?     Shut the thing off, Venetti! the racketeer demanded.     But too late.     There was now a somewhat dead man sitting in the saddle of the turningcircle of metal.     If Harry Keno had only been sane when he turned up on thatmerry-go-round in Boston I feel we would have learned much of immensevalue on the nature of time and space.     As it is, I feel that it is a miscarriage of justice to hold me inconnection with the murders I am sure Tony Carmen did commit.     I hope this personal account when published will end the viciousstory supported by the district attorney that it was I who sought TonyCarmen out and offered to dispose of his enemies and that I sought hisfinancial backing for the exploitation of my invention.     This is the true, and only true, account of the development of themachine known as the Expendable.     I am only sorry, now that the temperature has been standardized oncemore, that the Expendable's antithesis, the Disexpendable, is of toolow an order of efficiency to be of much value as a power source inthese days of nuclear and solar energy. So the world is again stuckwith the problem of waste disposal ... including all that I dumpedbefore. But as a great American once said, you can't win 'em all.     If you so desire, you may send your generous and fruitful letterstowards my upcoming defense in care of this civic-minded publication.  <doc-sep>I really haven't the time to waste talking irrelevancies, Swarts saida while later. Honestly. Maitland, I'm working against a time limit.If you'll cooperate, I'll tell Ching to answer your questions.'     Ching?     Ingrid Ching is the girl who has been bringing you your meals.     Maitland considered a moment, then nodded. Swarts lowered the projectorto his eyes again, and this time the engineer did not resist.     That evening, he could hardly wait for her to come. Too excited to sitand watch the sunset, he paced interminably about the room, sometimeswhistling nervously, snapping his fingers, sitting down and jitteringone leg. After a while he noticed that he was whistling the same themeover and over: a minute's thought identified it as that exuberantmounting phrase which recurs in the finale of Beethoven's NinthSymphony.     He forgot about it and went on whistling. He was picturing himselfaboard a ship dropping in toward Mars, making planetfall at SyrtisMajor; he was seeing visions of Venus and the awesome beauty of Saturn.In his mind, he circled the Moon, and viewed the Earth as a huge brightglobe against the constellations....     Finally the door slid aside and she appeared, carrying the usual trayof food. She smiled at him, making dimples in her golden skin andrevealing a perfect set of teeth, and put the tray on the table.     I think you are wonderful, she laughed. You get everything youwant, even from Swarts, and I have not been able to get even a littleof what I want from him. I want to travel in time, go back to your 20thCentury. And I wanted to talk with you, and he would not let me. Shelaughed again, hands on her rounded hips. I have never seen him soirritated as he was this noon.     Maitland urged her into the chair and sat down on the edge of the bed.Eagerly he asked, Why the devil do you want to go to the 20th Century?Believe me, I've been there, and what I've seen of this world looks alot better.     She shrugged. Swarts says that I want to go back to the Dark Age ofTechnology because I have not adapted well to modern culture. Myself,I think I have just a romantic nature. Far times and places look moreexciting....     How do you mean— Maitland wrinkled his brow—adapt to modernculture? Don't tell me      you're     from another time!     Oh, no! But my home is Aresund, a little fishing village at the headof a fiord in what you would call Norway. So far north, we are muchbehind the times. We live in the old way, from the sea, speak the oldtongue.  <doc-sep>She had stopped, trembling and gasping. Roddie clung just below herand looked dazedly around. There was nothing in sight but fog, piercedby the rapier of rusted wire supporting them. Neither end of it was insight.     Upward lay success, if death were not nearer on the cable. No soldierhad ever come even this far, for soldiers, as he'd told Ida, never leftthe city, were not built to do so. But      he     was here; with luck, hecould capitalize on the differences that had plagued him so long.     Go on! he ordered hoarsely. Move!     There was neither answer nor result. He broke off an end of loosenedwire and jabbed her rear. Ida gasped and crawled on.     Up and up they went, chilled, wet, bleeding, pain-racked, exhausted.Never had Roddie felt so thoroughly the defects of his peculiarnon-mechanical construction.     Without realizing it, he acquired a new purpose, a duty as compellingas that of any soldier or fire-watcher. He had to keep that tremblingbody of his alive, mount to the tall rust tower overhead.     He climbed and he made Ida climb, till, at nightmare's end, the fogthinned and they came into clear, windswept air and clawed up the lasthundred feet to sanctuary.     They were completely spent. Without word or thought they crept withinthe tower, huddled together for warmth on its dank steel deck, andslept for several hours.  <doc-sep>She didn't answer; she kept her eyes straight ahead and I saw the faintspot of color on her cheek.     I had a sudden impulse to ask her to meet me after hours at oneof the rec centers. If it had been my danger alone, I might have,but I couldn't very well ask her to risk discovery of a haphazard,unauthorized arrangement like that and the possibility of going to thepsycho-scan.     We came to a turn in the corridor and something happened; I'm not surejust how it happened. I keep telling myself that my movements were notactually deliberate. I was to the right of her. The turn was to theleft. She turned quickly, and I didn't, so that I bumped into her,knocking her off balance. I grabbed her to keep her from falling.     For a moment we stood there, face to face, touching each other lightly.I held her by the arms. I felt the primitive warmth of her breath. Oureyes held together ... proton ... electron ... I felt her tremble.     She broke from my grip suddenly and started off again.     After that she was very business-like.     We came finally to the controls of Bank 29 and she stood before themand began to press button combinations. I watched her work; I watchedher move. I had almost forgotten why I'd come here. The lights blinkedon and off and the typers clacked softly as the machine sorted outinformation.     She had a long printed sheet from the roll presently. She frowned atit and turned to me. You can take this along and study it, she said,but I'm afraid what you have in mind may be—a little difficult.     She must have guessed what I had in mind. I said, I didn't think itwould be easy.     It seems that the only agency authorized to change a State Serialunder any circumstances is Opsych.     Opsych? You can't keep up with all these departments.     The Office of Psychological Adjustment. They can change you if you gofrom a lower to higher E.A.C.     I don't get it, exactly.     As she spoke I had the idea that there was sympathy in her voice. Justan overtone. Well, she said, as you know, the post a person isqualified to hold often depends largely on his Emotional AdjustmentCategory. Now if he improves and passes from, let us say, Grade 3 toGrade 4, he will probably change his place of work. In order to protecthim from any associative maladjustments developed under the old E.A.C,he is permitted a new number.     I groaned. But I'm already in the highest E.A.C.!     It looks very uncertain then.     Sometimes I think I'd be better off in the mines, or onMarscol—or—in the hell of the pre-atomics!     She looked amused. What did you say your E.A.C. was?     Oh, all right. Sorry. I controlled myself and grinned. I guess thiswhole thing has been just a little too much for me. Maybe my E.A.C.'seven gone down.     That might be your chance then.     How do you mean?     If you could get to the top man in Opsych and demonstrate that yournumber has inadvertently changed your E.A.C., he might be able tojustify a change.     By the State, he might! I punched my palm. Only how do I get to him?     I can find his location on the cyb here. Center One, the capital, fora guess. You'll have to get a travel permit to go there, of course.Just a moment.     She worked at the machine again, trying it on general data. The printedslip came out a moment later and she read it to me. Chief, Opsych, wasin the capital all right. It didn't give the exact location of hisoffice, but it did tell how to find the underground bay in Center Onecontaining the Opsych offices.     We headed back through the passageway then and she kept well ahead ofme. I couldn't keep my eyes from her walk, from the way she walked witheverything below her shoulders. My blood was pounding at my templesagain.     I tried to keep the conversation going. Do you think it'll be hard toget a travel permit?     Not impossible. My guess is that you'll be at Travbur all daytomorrow, maybe even the next day. But you ought to be able to swing itif you hold out long enough.     I sighed. I know. It's that way everywhere in Northem. Our motto oughtto be, 'Why make it difficult when with just a little more effort youcan make it impossible?'  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How does THE EXPENDABLES delve into the theme of capitalism?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in DESIRE NO MORE? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>  He had but one ambition, one desire: to pilot the first manned rocket to     the moon. And he was prepared as no man had ever prepared himself     before....      DESIRE NO MORE     by Algis Budrys     (      illustrated by Milton Luros     )           Desire no more than to thy lot may fall....          —Chaucer    <doc-sep>Eric caught a faint nod here, a gesture there. Kroon nodded as ifin satisfaction. He turned to the girl, And what is your opinion,Daughter of the City?     Nolette's expression held sorrow, as if she looked into the far future.She said, He is Eric the Bronze. I have no doubt.     Eric asked, And what is this Legend of Eric the Bronze? Why am I sodespised in the city?     Kroon answered, According to the Ancient Legend you will destroy thecity. This, and other things.     Eric gaped. No wonder the crowd had shown such hatred. But why werethe elders so friendly? They were obviously the governing body, and ifthere was strife between them and the people it had not shown in therespect the crowd had accorded Nolette.     Kroon said, I see you are puzzled. Let me tell you the story of theCity. The City is old. It dates from long ago when the canals of Marsran clear and green with water, and the deserts were vineyards andgardens. The drouth came, and the changes in climate, and soon itbecame plain that the people of Mars were doomed. They had ships, andcould build more, and gradually they left to colonize other planets.Yet they could take little of their science. And fear and riotsdestroyed much. Also there were those who were filled with love forthis homeland, and who thought that one day it might be habitableagain. All the skill of the ancient Martian fathers went into thebuilding of a giant machine, the machine that is the City, to protect asmall colony of those who were chosen to remain on Mars.     This whole city is a machine! Eric asked.     Yes, or the product of one. The heart of it lies underneath our feet,in caverns beneath this building. The nature of the machine is this,that it translates thought into reality.     Eric stared. The idea was staggering.     This is essentially simple, although the technology is complex. It isnecessary to have a recording device, to capture thought, a transmutingdevice capable of transmuting the red dust of the desert into anysort of material desired, and a construction device, to assemble thismaterial into the pattern already recorded from thought. Kroon paused.You still doubt, my friend. Perhaps you are thirsty after your escape.Think strongly of a tall glass of cold water, visualize it in yourmind, the sight and the fluidity and the touch of it.     Eric did so. Without warning a glass of water stood on the table beforehim. He touched the water to his lips. It was cool and satisfying. Hedrank it, convinced completely.     Eric asked, And I am to destroy the City?     Yes. The time has come.     But why? Eric demanded. For an instant he could see the twinklingbeauty as clearly as if he had stood outside the walls of this building.     Kroon said, There are difficulties. The machine builds according tothe mass will of the people, though it is sensitive to the individualin areas where it does not conflict with the imagination of the mass.We have had strangers, visitors, and even our own people, who grewdrunk with the power of the machine, who dreamed more and more lust andgreed into existence. These were banished from the city, and so strongis the call of the city that many of them became victims of their ownevilness, and now walk mindlessly, with no thought but to seek for thebeauty they have lost here.     Kroon sighed. The people have lost the will to learn. Many do not evenknow of the machine. Our science is almost gone, and only a few of us,the dreamers, the elders, have kept alive the old knowledge of themachine and its history. By the collected powers of our imagination webuild and control the outward appearance of the city.     We have passed this down from father to son. A part of the ancientLegend is that the builders made provisions for the machine to bedestroyed when contact with outsiders had been made once again, so thatour people would again have to struggle forward to knowledge and power.The instrument of destruction was to be a man termed Eric the Bronze.It is not that you are reborn. It is just that sometime such a manwould come.     Eric said, I can understand the Bronze part. They had thought that aspace man might well be sun tanned. They had thought that a science toprotect against this beautiful illusion would provide a metal shieldof some sort, probably copper in nature. That such a man should comeis inevitable. But why Eric. Why the name Eric?     For the first time Nolette spoke. She said quietly, The name Ericwas an honorable name of the ancient fathers. It must have been theirthought that the new beginning should wait for some of their own farflung kind to return.     Eric nodded. He asked, What happens now?     Nothing. Dwell here with us and you will be safe from our people. Ifthe prediction is not soon fulfilled and you are not the Eric of theLegend, you may stay or go as you desire.     My brother, Garve. What about him?     He loves the city. He will also stay, though he will be outside thisbuilding. Kroon clasped his hands. Nolette, will you show Eric hisquarters?  <doc-sep>   HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS     By JIM HARMON     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Every lonely man tries to make friends.     Manet just didn't know when to stop!      William Manet was alone.     In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It wouldgive him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlateloneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take himto start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to beginteaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminablelectures to a bored and captive audience of one.     He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whetherit was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and asdirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal andthink more like a god than any man for generations.     But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearingbore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.     Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was alreadytalking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he hadcut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up andwinked at it whenever he passed that way.     Lately she was winking back at him.     Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh fromhis arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.     No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manetcould only be this lonely on Mars.     Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.     All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middleof the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat,flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in theblack sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moonsand one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The wholegimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one wasneeded here—no human being, at least.     The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn'ttake much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefullyspecified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycombMars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.     They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated peoplefor the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going toisolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manetand his fellows.     The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fareto Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuterservice for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodationsfor couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren'tproviding fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits betweenthe various Overseers. They weren't very providential.     But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offeredwonderful opportunities.     It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship makinga tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning asbright as envy.  <doc-sep>She was not only trying to get me to commit nonconformity, but makingheretical remarks besides. I awoke that time and half-expected a Deaconto pop out of the tube and turn his electric club upon me.     And I heard the voice nearly every night.     It hammered away.           What if you do fail? Almost anything would be better than themiserable existence you're leading now!          One morning I even caught myself wondering just how I'd go about thisidea of hers. Wondering what the first step might be.     She seemed to read my thoughts. That night she said,       Consult the cybsin the Govpub office. If you look hard enough and long enough, you'llfind a way.          Now, on this morning of the seventeenth day in the ninth month,I ate my boiled egg slowly and actually toyed with the idea. Ithought of being on productive status again. I had almost lost myfanatical craving to be useful to the State, but I did want to bebusy—desperately. I didn't want to be despised any more. I didn'twant to be lonely. I wanted to reproduce myself.     I made my decision suddenly. Waves of emotion carried me along. I gotup, crossed the room to the directory, and pushbuttoned to find thelocation of the nearest Govpub office.     I didn't know what would happen and almost didn't care.      II     Like most important places, the Govpub Office in Center Four wasunderground. I could have taken a tunnelcar more quickly, but it seemedpleasanter to travel topside. Or maybe I just wanted to put this off abit. Think about it. Compose myself.     At the entrance to the Govpub warren there was a big director cyb, aplate with a speaker and switch. The sign on it said to switch it onand get close to the speaker and I did.     The cyb's mechanical voice—they never seem to get the th soundsright—said, This is Branch Four of the Office of GovernmentPublications. Say, 'Publications,' and/or, 'Information desired,' asthoroughly and concisely as possible. Use approved voice and standardphraseology.     Well, simple enough so far. I had always rather prided myself on myknack for approved voice, those flat, emotionless tones that indicateefficiency. And I would never forget how to speak Statese. I said,Applicant desires all pertinent information relative assignment,change or amendment of State Serial designations, otherwise generallyreferred to as nomenclature.     There was a second's delay while the audio patterns tripped relays andbrought the memory tubes in.     Then the cyb said, Proceed to Numbering and Identity section. Consultalphabetical list and diagram on your left for location of same.     Thanks, I said absent-mindedly.     I started to turn away and the cyb said, Information on tanks ismilitary information and classified. State authorization for—     I switched it off.  <doc-sep>She was pink and clean and her platinum hair was pulled straight back,drawing her cheek-bones tighter, straightening her wide, appealingmouth, drawing her lean, athletic, feminine body erect. She was wearinga powder-blue dress that covered all of her breasts and hips and theupper half of her legs.     The most wonderful thing about her was her perfume. Then I realized itwasn't perfume, only the scent of soap. Finally, I knew it wasn't that.It was just healthy, fresh-scrubbed skin.     I went to her at the bus stop, forcing my legs not to stagger. Nobodywould help a drunk. I don't know why, but nobody will help you if theythink you are blotto.     Ma'am, could you help a man who's not had work? I kept my eyes down.I couldn't look a human in the eye and ask for help. Just a dime for acup of coffee. I knew where I could get it for three cents, maybe twoand a half.     I felt her looking at me. She spoke in an educated voice, one she used,perhaps, as a teacher or supervising telephone operator. Do you wantit for coffee, or to apply, or a glass or hypo of something else?     I cringed and whined. She would expect it of me. I suddenly realizedthat anybody as clean as she was had to be a tourist here. I hatetourists.     Just coffee, ma'am. She was younger than I was, so I didn't have tocall her that. A little more for food, if you could spare it.     I hadn't eaten in a day and a half, but I didn't care much.     I'll buy you a dinner, she said carefully, provided I can go withyou and see for myself that you actually eat it.     I felt my face flushing red. You wouldn't want to be seen with a bumlike me, ma'am.     I'll be seen with you if you really want to eat.     It was certainly unfair and probably immoral. But I had no choicewhatever.     Okay, I said, tasting bitterness over the craving.  <doc-sep>  Mr. Dawes  came home anhour later, looking tired.Mom pecked him lightly onthe forehead. He glanced atthe evening paper, and thenspoke to Sol.     Hear you been askingquestions, Mr. Becker.     Sol nodded, embarrassed.Guess I have. I'm awfullycurious about this Armagonplace. Never heard of anythinglike it before.     Dawes grunted. You ain'ta reporter?     Oh, no. I'm an engineer. Iwas just satisfying my owncuriosity.     Uh-huh. Dawes lookedreflective. You wouldn't bethinkin' about writing us upor anything. I mean, this is apretty private affair.     Writing it up? Solblinked. I hadn't thought ofit. But you'll have to admit—it'ssure interesting.     Yeah, Dawes said narrowly.I guess it would be.     Supper! Mom called.     After the meal, they spenta quiet evening at home. Sallywent to bed, screaming herreluctance, at eight-thirty.Mom, dozing in the big chairnear the fireplace, padded upstairsat nine. Then Dawesyawned widely, stood up, andsaid goodnight at quarter-of-ten.     He paused in the doorwaybefore leaving.     I'd think about that, hesaid. Writing it up, I mean.A lot of folks would thinkyou were just plum crazy.     Sol laughed feebly. Iguess they would at that.     Goodnight, Dawes said.     Goodnight.     He read Sally's copy of      Treasure Island     for abouthalf an hour. Then he undressed,made himself comfortableon the sofa, snuggledunder the soft blanketthat Mom had provided, andshut his eyes.     He reviewed the events ofthe day before dropping offto sleep. The troublesomeSally. The strange dreamworld of Armagon. The visitto the barber shop. The removalof Brundage's body.The conversations with thetownspeople. Dawes' suspiciousattitude ...     Then sleep came. <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in DESIRE NO MORE?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the story of Nan in DESIRE NO MORE? [SEP] <s>  HE BROUGHT the Mark VII out of her orbit after two days of running ringsaround the spinning Earth, and the world loved him. He climbed out ofthe crackling, pinging ship, bearded and dirty, with oil on his face andin his hair, with food stains all over his whipcord, red-eyed, andhuskily quiet as he said his few words into the network microphones. Andhe was not satisfied. There was no peace in his eyes, and his handsmoved even more sharply in their expressive gestures as he gave animpromptu report to the technicians who were walking back to thepersonnel bunker with him.     Nan could see that. Four years ago, he had been different. Four yearsago, if she had only known the right words, he wouldn't be so intent nowon throwing himself away to the sky.     She was a woman scorned. She had to lie to herself. She broke out of thepress section and ran over to him. Marty! She brushed past atechnician.     He looked at her with faint surprise on his face. Well, Nan! hemumbled. But he did not put his hand over her own where it touched hisshoulder.     I'm sorry, Marty, she said in a rush. I didn't understand. I couldn'tsee how much it all meant. Her face was flushed, and she spoke asrapidly as she could, not noticing that Ish had already gestured awaythe guards she was afraid would interrupt her.     But it's all right, now. You got your rockets. You've done it. Youtrained yourself for it, and now it's over. You've flown your rocket!     He looked up at her face and shook his head in quiet pity. One of theshocked technicians was trying to pull her away, and Ish made no move tostop him.     Suddenly, he was tired, there was something in him that was trying tobreak out against his will, and his reaction was that of a child whosecandy is being taken away from him after only one bite.     Rocket! he shouted into her terrified face.       Rocket!     Call that pileof tin a rocket? He pointed at the weary Mark VII with a trembling arm.Who cares about the bloody      machines     ! If I thought roller-skatingwould get me there, I would have gone to work in a      rink     when I wasseventeen! It's      getting there     that counts! Who gives a good goddam      how     it's done, or what with!     And he stood there, shaking like a leaf, outraged, while the guards cameand got her.    <doc-sep>  He had but one ambition, one desire: to pilot the first manned rocket to     the moon. And he was prepared as no man had ever prepared himself     before....      DESIRE NO MORE     by Algis Budrys     (      illustrated by Milton Luros     )           Desire no more than to thy lot may fall....          —Chaucer    <doc-sep>  ISH LOOKED up bitterly at the Receptionist. No, he said.     But      everybody     fills out an application, she protested.     No. I've      got     a job, he said as he had been saying for the last halfhour.     The Receptionist sighed. If you'll      only     read the literature I'vegiven you, you'll understand that all your previous commitments havebeen cancelled.     Look, Honey, I've seen company poop sheets before. Now, let's cut thisnonsense. I've got to get back.     But      nobody     goes back.     Goddam it, I don't know what kind of place this is, but— He stoppedat the Receptionist's wince, and looked around, his mouth open. Thereception desk was solid enough. There were IN and OUT and HOLD basketson the desk, and the Receptionist seemed to see nothing extraordinaryabout it. But the room—a big room, he realized—seemed to fade out atthe edges, rather than stop at walls. The lighting, too....     Let's see your back! he rapped out, his voice high.     She sighed in exasperation. If you'd read the      literature     ... Sheswiveled her chair slowly.     No wings, he said.     Of course not! she snapped. She brushed her hair away from herforehead without his telling her to. No horns, either.     Streamlined, huh? he said bitterly.     It's a little different for everybody, she said with unexpectedgentleness. It would have to be, wouldn't it?     Yeah, I guess so, he admitted slowly. Then he lost his momentary awe,and his posture grew tense again. He glanced down at his wrist. Sixhours, forty-seven minutes, and no days to go.     Who do I see?     She stared at him, bewildered at the sudden change in his voice. See?     About getting out of here! Come on, come on, he barked, snapping hisfingers impatiently. I haven't got much time.     She smiled sweetly. Oh, but you do.     Can it! Who's your Section boss? Get him down here. On the double. Comeon! His face was streaming with perspiration but his voice was firmwith the purpose that drove him.     Her lips closed into an angry line, and she jabbed a finger at a deskbutton. I'll call the Personnel Manager.     Thanks, he said sarcastically, and waited impatiently. Odd, the waythe Receptionist looked a little like Nan.    <doc-sep>  THE      NAVION     took a boiling thermal under its right wing and buckedupward suddenly, tilting at the same time, so that the pretty brunettegirl in the other half of the side-by-side was thrown against him. Ishlaughed, a sound that came out of his throat as turbulently as thatsudden gust of heated air had shot up out of the Everglades, andcorrected with a tilt of the wheel.     Relax, Nan, he said, his words colored by the lingering laughter.It's only air; nasty old air.     The girl patted her short hair back into place. I wish you wouldn't flythis low, she said, half-frightened.           Low?     Call      this     low? Ish teased. Here. Let's drop it a little, andyou'll      really     get an idea of how fast we're going. He nudged thewheel forward, and the      Navion     dipped its nose in a shallow dive,flattening out thirty feet above the mangrove. The swamp howled with thechug of the dancing pistons and the claw of the propeller at theprotesting air, and, from the cockpit, the Everglades resolved into adirty-green blur that rocketed backward into the slipstream.     Marty!     Ish chuckled again. He couldn't have held the ship down much longer,anyway. He tugged back on the wheel suddenly, targeting a cumulous bankwith his spinner. His lips peeled back from his teeth, and his jaw set.The      Navion     went up at the clouds, her engine turning over as fast asit could, her wings cushioned on the rising thrust of another thermal.     And, suddenly, it was as if there were no girl beside him, to be teased,and no air to rock the wings—there were no wings. His face lost allexpression. Faint beads of sweat broke out above his eyes and under hisnose. Up, he grunted through his clenched teeth. His fists locked onthe wheel. Up!     The      Navion     broke through the cloud, kept going. Up. If he listenedclosely, in just the right way, he could almost hear ...     Marty!     ... the rumble of a louder, prouder engine than the Earth had ever known.He sighed, the breath whispering through his parting teeth, and theaircraft leveled off as he pushed at the wheel with suddenly lax hands.Still half-lost, he turned and looked at the white-faced girl. Scareyou—? he asked gently.     She nodded. Her fingertips were trembling on his forearm.     Me too, he said. Lost my head. Sorry.    <doc-sep>  LOOK, HE told the girl, You got any idea of what it costs to maintaina racing-plane? Everything I own is tied up in the Foo, my ground crew,my trailer, and that scrummy old Ryan that should have been salvaged tenyears ago. I      can't     get married. Suppose I crack the Foo next week?You're dead broke, a widow, and with a funeral to pay for. The onlysmart thing to do is wait a while.     Nan's eyes clouded, and her lips trembled. That's what I've been tryingto say.      Why     do you have to win the Vandenberg Cup next week? Why can'tyou sell the Foo and go into some kind of business? You're a trainedpilot.     He had been standing in front of her with his body unconsciously tensefrom the strain of trying to make her understand. Now herelaxed—more—he slumped—and something began to die in his face, andthe first faint lines crept in to show that after it had died, it wouldnot return to life, but would fossilize, leaving his features in thealmost unreadable mask that the newspapers would come to know.     I'm a good bit more than a trained pilot, he said quietly. The Foo Isa means to an end. After I win the Vandenberg Cup, I can walk into anyplant in the States—Douglas, North American, Boeing—      any     of them—andpick up the Chief Test Pilot's job for the asking. A few of them have asgood as said so. After that— His voice had regained some of its formeranimation from this new source. Now he broke off, and shrugged. I'vetold you all this before.     The girl reached up, as if the physical touch could bring him back toher, and put her fingers around his wrist. Darling! she said. If it'sthat      rocket     pilot business again....     Somehow, his wrist was out of her encircling fingers. It's always 'that      rocket     pilot business,' he said, mimicking her voice. Damn it, I'mthe only trained rocket pilot in the world! I weigh a hundred andfifteen pounds, I'm five feet tall, and I know more navigation and maththan anybody the Air Force or Navy have! I can use words likebrennschluss and mass-ratio without running over to a copy of      Colliers     , and I— He stopped himself, half-smiled, and shruggedagain.     I guess I was kidding myself. After the Cup, there'll be the test job,and after that, there'll be the rockets. You would have had to wait along time.     All she could think of to say was, But, Darling, there      aren't     anyman-carrying rockets.     That's not my fault, he said, and walked away from her.       A week later, he took his stripped-down F-110 across the last line witha scream like that of a hawk that brings its prey safely to its nest.    <doc-sep>She was not only trying to get me to commit nonconformity, but makingheretical remarks besides. I awoke that time and half-expected a Deaconto pop out of the tube and turn his electric club upon me.     And I heard the voice nearly every night.     It hammered away.           What if you do fail? Almost anything would be better than themiserable existence you're leading now!          One morning I even caught myself wondering just how I'd go about thisidea of hers. Wondering what the first step might be.     She seemed to read my thoughts. That night she said,       Consult the cybsin the Govpub office. If you look hard enough and long enough, you'llfind a way.          Now, on this morning of the seventeenth day in the ninth month,I ate my boiled egg slowly and actually toyed with the idea. Ithought of being on productive status again. I had almost lost myfanatical craving to be useful to the State, but I did want to bebusy—desperately. I didn't want to be despised any more. I didn'twant to be lonely. I wanted to reproduce myself.     I made my decision suddenly. Waves of emotion carried me along. I gotup, crossed the room to the directory, and pushbuttoned to find thelocation of the nearest Govpub office.     I didn't know what would happen and almost didn't care.      II     Like most important places, the Govpub Office in Center Four wasunderground. I could have taken a tunnelcar more quickly, but it seemedpleasanter to travel topside. Or maybe I just wanted to put this off abit. Think about it. Compose myself.     At the entrance to the Govpub warren there was a big director cyb, aplate with a speaker and switch. The sign on it said to switch it onand get close to the speaker and I did.     The cyb's mechanical voice—they never seem to get the th soundsright—said, This is Branch Four of the Office of GovernmentPublications. Say, 'Publications,' and/or, 'Information desired,' asthoroughly and concisely as possible. Use approved voice and standardphraseology.     Well, simple enough so far. I had always rather prided myself on myknack for approved voice, those flat, emotionless tones that indicateefficiency. And I would never forget how to speak Statese. I said,Applicant desires all pertinent information relative assignment,change or amendment of State Serial designations, otherwise generallyreferred to as nomenclature.     There was a second's delay while the audio patterns tripped relays andbrought the memory tubes in.     Then the cyb said, Proceed to Numbering and Identity section. Consultalphabetical list and diagram on your left for location of same.     Thanks, I said absent-mindedly.     I started to turn away and the cyb said, Information on tanks ismilitary information and classified. State authorization for—     I switched it off.  <doc-sep>Opperly looked at him with a gentle appraisal. You're a strong andvital man, Willard, with a strong man's prides and desires. His voicetrailed off for a bit. Then, Excuse me, Willard, but wasn't there agirl once? A Miss Arkady?     Farquar's ungainly figure froze. He nodded curtly, face averted.     And didn't she go off with a Thinker?     If girls find me ugly, that's their business, Farquar said harshly,still not looking at Opperly. What's that got to do with thisinvitation?     Opperly didn't answer the question. His eyes got more distant. Finallyhe said, In my day we had it a lot easier. A scientist was anacademician, cushioned by tradition.     Willard snorted. Science had already entered the era of the policeinspectors, with laboratory directors and political appointees stiflingenterprise.     Perhaps, Opperly agreed. Still, the scientist lived the safe,restricted, highly respectable life of a university man. He wasn'texposed to the temptations of the world.     Farquar turned on him. Are you implying that the Thinkers will somehowbe able to buy me off?     Not exactly.     You think I'll be persuaded to change my aims? Farquar demandedangrily.     Opperly shrugged his helplessness. No, I don't think you'll changeyour aims.     Clouds encroaching from the west blotted the parallelogram of sunlightbetween the two men.  <doc-sep>Confound the girl, he couldn't help thinking. This morning, when sheshould have made herself scarce, she'd sprawled about sleeping. Now,when he felt like seeing her, when her presence would have added apleasant final touch to his glowing mood, she chose to be absent. Hereally should use his hypnotic control on her, he decided, and againthere sprang into his mind the word—a pet form of her name—that wouldsend her into obedient trance.     No, he told himself again, that was to be reserved for some momentof crisis or desperate danger, when he would need someone to strikesuddenly and unquestioningly for himself and mankind. Caddy was merelya wilful and rather silly girl, incapable at present of understandingthe tremendous tensions under which he operated. When he had time forit, he would train her up to be a fitting companion without hypnosis.     Yet the fact of her absence had a subtly disquieting effect. It shookhis perfect self-confidence just a fraction. He asked himself ifhe'd been wise in summoning the rocket physicists without consultingTregarron.     But this mood, too, he conquered quickly. Tregarron wasn't hisboss, but just the Thinker's most clever salesman, an expert in themumbo-jumbo so necessary for social control in this chaotic era. Hehimself, Jorj Helmuth, was the real leader in theoretics and all-overstrategy, the mind behind the mind behind Maizie.     He stretched himself on the bed, almost instantly achieved maximumrelaxation, turned on the somno-learner, and began the two hour rest heknew would be desirable before the big conference.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the story of Nan in DESIRE NO MORE?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What are the defining traits of Martin Isherwood, the protagonist of DESIRE NO MORE? [SEP] <s>  THE SMALL young man looked at his father, and shook his head.     But you've      got     to learn a trade, his father said, exasperated. Ican't afford to send you to college; you know that.     I've got a trade, he answered.     His father smiled thinly. What? he asked patronizingly.     I'm a rocket pilot, the boy said, his thin jaw stretching the skin ofhis cheeks.     His father laughed in the way the boy had learned to anticipate andhate. Yeah, he said. He leaned back in his chair and laughed so hardthat the Sunday paper slipped off his wide lap and fell to the floorwith an unnoticed stiff rustle.     A      rocket     pilot! His father's derision hooted through the quietparlor. A ro—      oh, no!     —a rocket      pilot     !     The boy stared silently at the convulsed figure in the chair. His lipsfell into a set white bar, and the corners of his jaws bulged with thetension in their muscles. Suddenly, he turned on his heel and stalkedout of the parlor, through the hall, out the front door, to the porch.He stopped there, hesitating a little.           Marty!      His father's shout followed him out of the parlor. It seemedto act like a hand between the shoulder-blades, because the boy almostran as he got down the porch stairs.     What is it, Howard? Marty's mother asked in a worried voice as shecame in from the kitchen, her damp hands rubbing themselves dry againstthe sides of her housedress.     Crazy kid, Howard Isherwood muttered. He stared at the figure of hisson as the boy reached the end of the walk and turned off into thestreet.       Come back here!      he shouted. A      rocket     pilot, he cursedunder his breath. What's the kid been reading? Claiming he's a rocketpilot!     Margaret Isherwood's brow furrowed into a faint, bewildered frown.But—isn't he a little young? I know they're teaching some very oddthings in high schools these days, but it seems to me....     Oh, for Pete's sake, Marge, there aren't even any rockets yet!      Comeback here, you idiot!      Howard Isherwood was standing on his porch, hisclenched fists trembling at the ends of his stiffly-held arms.     Are you sure, Howard? his wife asked faintly.     Yes, I'm      sure     !     But, where's he going?           Stop that! Get off that bus! YOU hear me?     Marty?           Howard!     Stop acting like a child and      talk     to me! Where is that boygoing?     Howard Isherwood, stocky, red-faced, forty-seven, and defeated, turnedaway from the retreating bus and looked at his wife. I don't know, hetold her bitterly, between rushes of air into his jerkily heaving lungs.Maybe, the moon, he told her sarcastically.       Martin Isherwood, rocket pilot, weight 102, height 4', 11, had come ofage at seventeen.    <doc-sep>So Martin held his peace, because, on the whole, he liked things theway they were. Ninian really was the limit, though. All the people heknew lived in scabrous tenement apartments like his, but she seemed tothink it was disgusting.     So if you don't like it, clean it up, he suggested.     She looked at him as if he were out of his mind.     Hire a maid, then! he jeered.     And darned if that dope didn't go out and get a woman to come clean upthe place! He was so embarrassed, he didn't even dare show his face inthe streets—especially with the women buttonholing him and demandingto know what gave. They tried talking to Ninian, but she certainly knewhow to give them the cold shoulder.     One day the truant officer came to ask why Martin hadn't been comingto school. Very few of the neighborhood kids attended classes veryregularly, so this was just routine. But Ninian didn't know that andshe went into a real tizzy, babbling that Martin had been sick andwould make up the work. Martin nearly did get sick from laughing sohard inside.     But he laughed out of the other side of his mouth when she went out andhired a private tutor for him. A tutor—in that neighborhood! Martinhad to beat up every kid on the block before he could walk a stepwithout hearing Fancy Pants! yelled after him.     Ninian worried all the time. It wasn't that she cared what these peoplethought of her, for she made no secret of regarding them as littlebetter than animals, but she was shy of attracting attention. Therewere an awful lot of people in that neighborhood who felt exactly thesame way, only she didn't know that, either. She was really prettydumb, Martin thought, for all her fancy lingo.     It's so hard to think these things out without any prior practicalapplication to go by, she told him.     He nodded, knowing what she meant was that everything was coming outwrong. But he didn't try to help her; he just watched to see whatshe'd do next. Already he had begun to assume the detached role of aspectator.     When it became clear that his mother was never going to show up again,Ninian bought one of those smallish, almost identical houses thatmushroom on the fringes of a city after every war, particularly whereintensive bombing has created a number of desirable building sites.     This is a much better neighborhood for a boy to grow up in, shedeclared. Besides, it's easier to keep an eye on you here.     And keep an eye on him she did—she or a rather foppish young man whocame to stay with them occasionally. Martin was told to call him UncleRaymond.     From time to time, there were other visitors—Uncles Ives andBartholomew and Olaf, Aunts Ottillie and Grania and Lalage, and manymore—all cousins to one another, he was told, all descendants of his.  <doc-sep>  THE SMALL man looked at his faculty advisor. No, he said. I am notinterested in working for a degree.     But— The faculty advisor unconsciously tapped the point of a yellowpencil against the fresh green of his desk blotter, leaving a rough arcof black flecks. Look, Ish, you've got to either deliver or get off thebasket. This program is just like the others you've followed for ninesemesters; nothing but math and engineering. You've taken just aboutevery undergrad course there is in those fields. How long are you goingto keep this up?     I'm signed up for Astronomy 101, Isherwood pointed out.     The faculty advisor snorted. A snap course. A breather, after you'vestudied the same stuff in Celestial Navigation. What's the matter, Ish?Scared of liberal arts?     Isherwood shook his head. Uh-unh. Not interested. No time. And thatAstronomy course isn't a breather. Different slant from Cee Nav—theywon't be talking about stars as check points, but as things inthemselves. Something seemed to flicker across his face as he said it.     The advisor missed it; he was too engrossed in his argument. Still asnap. What's the difference, how you look at a star?     Isherwood almost winced. Call it a hobby, he said. He looked down athis watch. Come on, Dave. You're not going to convince me. You haven'tconvinced me any of the other times, either, so you might as well giveup, don't you think? I've got a half hour before I go on the job. Let'sgo get some beer.     The advisor, not much older than Isherwood, shrugged, defeated. Crazy,he muttered. But it was a hot day, and he was as thirsty as the nextman.     The bar was air conditioned. The advisor shivered, half grinned, andsoftly quoted: Though I go bare, take ye no care,I am nothing a-cold;I stuff my skin so full withinOf jolly good ale and old.     Huh? Ish was wearing the look with which he always reacted to theunfamiliar.     The advisor lifted two fingers to the bartender and shrugged. It's apoem; about four hundred years old, as a matter of fact.     Oh.     Don't you give a damn? the advisor asked, with some peevishness.     Ish laughed shortly, without embarrassment. Sorry, Dave, but no. It'snot my racket.     The advisor cramped his hand a little too tightly around his glass.Strictly a specialist, huh?     Ish nodded. Call it that.     But      what     , for Pete's sake? What      is     this crazy specialty that blindsyou to all the fine things that man has done?     Ish took a swallow of his beer. Well, now, if I was a poet, I'd say itwas the finest thing that man has ever done.     The advisor's lips twisted in derision. That's pretty fanatical, isn'tit?     Uh-huh. Ish waved to the bartender for refills.    <doc-sep>For more than a century, robotocists have been trying to build Asimov'sfamous Three Laws of Robotics into a robot brain.       First Law: A robot shall not, either through action or inaction, allowharm to come to a human being.         Second Law: A robot shall obey the orders of a human being, exceptwhen such orders conflict with the First Law     .     [15]       Third Law: A robot shall strive to protect its own existence, exceptwhen this conflicts with the First or Second Law.       Nobody has succeeded yet, because nobody has yet succeeded in definingthe term human being in such a way that the logical mind of a robotcan encompass the concept.     A traffic robot is useful only because the definition has been rigidlynarrowed down. As far as a traffic robot is concerned, human beingsare the automobiles on its highways. Woe betide any poor sap who tries,illegally, to cross a robot-controlled highway on foot. The robot'sonly concern would be with the safety of the automobiles, and if theonly way to avoid destruction of an automobile were to be by nudgingthe pedestrian aside with a fender, that's what would happen.     And, since its orders only come from one place, I suppose that atraffic robot thinks that the guy who uses that typer is an automobile.     With the first six models of the McGuire ships, the robotocistsattempted to build in the Three Laws exactly as stated. And the firstsix went insane.     If one human being says jump left, and another says jump right,the robot is unable to evaluate which human being has given the morevalid order. Feed enough confusing and conflicting data into a robotbrain, and it can begin behaving in ways that, in a human being, wouldbe called paranoia or schizophrenia or catatonia or what-have-you,depending  [16]  on the symptoms. And an insane robot is fully as dangerousas an insane human being controlling the same mechanical equipment, ifnot more so.     So the seventh model had been modified. The present McGuire's brain wasimpressed with slight modifications of the First and Second Laws.     If it is difficult to define a human being, it is much more difficultto define a      responsible     human being. One, in other words, who canbe relied upon to give wise and proper orders to a robot, who can berelied upon not to drive the robot insane.     The robotocists at Viking Spacecraft had decided to take anothertack. Very well, they'd said, if we can't define all the membersof a group, we can certainly define an individual. We'll pick oneresponsible person and build McGuire so that he will take orders onlyfrom that person.     As it turned out, I was that person. Just substitute Daniel Oakfor human being in the First and Second Laws, and you'll see howimportant I was to a certain spaceship named McGuire.  <doc-sep>  SIT DOWN, Ish, the Flight Surgeon said.       They always begin that way     , Isherwood thought. The standard medicalopening. Sit down. What for? Did somebody really believe that anythinghe might hear would make him faint? He smiled with as much expression ashe ever did, and chose a comfortable chair, rolling the white cylinderof a cigarette between his fingers. He glanced at his watch. Fourteenhours, thirty-six minutes, and four days to go.     How's it? the FS asked.     Ish grinned and shrugged. All right. But he didn't usually grin. Therealization disquieted him a little.     Think you'll make it?     Deliberately, rather than automatically, he fell back into his usualresponse-pattern. Don't know. That's what I'm being paid to find out.     Uh-      huh     . The FS tapped the eraser of his pencil against his teeth.Look—you want to talk to a man for a while?     What man? It didn't really matter. He had a feeling that anything hesaid or did now would have a bearing, somehow, on the trip. If theywanted him to do something for them, he was bloody well going to do it.     Fellow named MacKenzie. Big gun in the head-thumping racket. TheFlight Surgeon was trying to be as casual as he could. Air Forceinsisted on it, as a matter of fact, he said. Can't really blame them.After all, it's      their     beast.     Don't want any hole-heads denting it up on them, huh? Ish lit thecigarette and flipped his lighter shut with a snap of the lid. Sure.Bring him on.     The FS smiled. Good. He's—uh—he's in the next room. Okay to ask himin right now?     Sure. Something flickered in Isherwood's eyes. Amusement at the FlightSurgeon's discomfort was part of it. Worry was some of the rest.    <doc-sep>Down in the great cave that Old Serpent, a two-legged one among whosenames were Snake-Oil Sam, spoke to his underlings:     It'll take them fourteen days to get back with the settlers. We'llhave time to overhaul the blasters. We haven't had any well-equippedsettlers for six weeks. It used to be we'd hardly have time to stripand slaughter and stow before there was another batch to take care of.     I think you'd better write me some new lines, said Adam. I feel likea goof saying those same ones to each bunch.     You are a goof, and therefore perfect for the part. I was in showbusiness long enough to know never to change a line too soon. I didchange Adam and Eve to Ha-Adamah and Hawwah, and the apple to thepomegranate. People aren't becoming any smarter—but they are becomingbetter researched, and they insist on authenticity.     This is still a perfect come-on here. There is something in humannature that cannot resist the idea of a Perfect Paradise. Folks willwhoop and holler to their neighbors to come in droves to spoil and marit. It isn't greed or the desire for new land so much—though that isstrong too. Mainly it is the feverish passion to befoul and poison whatis unspoiled. Fortunately I am sagacious enough to take advantage ofthis trait. And when you start to farm a new world on a shoestring youhave to acquire your equipment as you can.     He looked proudly around at the great cave with its mountains and tiersof materials, heavy machinery of all sorts, titanic crates of foodstuffspace-sealed; wheeled, tracked, propped, vaned and jetted vehicles; andpower packs to run a world.     He looked at the three dozen space ships stripped and stacked, and atthe rather large pile of bone-meal in one corner.     We will have to have another lion, said Eve. Bowser is getting old,and Marie-Yvette abuses him and gnaws his toes. And we do have to havea big-maned lion to lie down with the lamb.     I know it, Eve. The lion is a very important prop. Maybe one of thecrackpot settlers will bring a new lion.     And can't you mix another kind of shining paint? This itches. It'shell.     I'm working on it.  <doc-sep>They stood before the switchboard again. Martin and Wass side by side,Rodney, still holding his gun, slightly to the rear.     Rodney moved forward a little toward the switches. His breathing wasloud and rather uneven in the radio receivers.     Martin made a final effort. Rodney, it's still almost nine hours totake off. Let's search awhile first. Let this be a last resort.     Rodney jerked his head negatively. No. Now, I know you, Martin.Postpone and postpone until it's too late, and the ship leaves withoutus and we're stranded here to eat seeds and gradually dehydrateourselves and God only knows what else and—     He reached out convulsively and yanked a switch.     Martin leaped, knocking him to the floor. Rodney's gun skittered awaysilently, like a live thing, out of the range of the torches.     The radio receivers impersonally recorded the grating sounds ofRodney's sobs.     Sorry, Martin said, without feeling. He turned quickly. Wass?     The slight, blond man stood unmoving. I'm with you, Martin, but, asa last resort it might be better to be blown sky high than to diegradually—     Martin was watching Rodney, struggling to get up. I agree. As a lastresort. We still have a little time.     Rodney's tall, spare figure looked bowed and tired in the torchlight,now that he was up again. Martin, I—     Martin turned his back. Skip it, Rodney, he said gently.     Water, Wass said thoughtfully. There must be reservoirs under thiscity somewhere.     Rodney said, How does water help us get out?     Martin glanced at Wass, then started out of the switchboard room, notlooking back. It got in and out of the city some way. Perhaps we canleave the same way.     Down the ramp again.     There's another ramp, Wass murmured.     Rodney looked down it. I wonder how many there are, all told.     Martin placed one foot on the metal incline. He angled his torch down,picking out shadowy, geometrical shapes, duplicates of the ones on thepresent level. We'll find out, he said, how many there are.     Eleven levels later Rodney asked, How much time have we now?     Seven hours, Wass said quietly, until take-off.     One more level, Martin said, ignoring the reference to time. I ...think it's the last.     They walked down the ramp and stood together, silent in a dim pool ofartificial light on the bottom level of the alien city.     Rodney played his torch about the metal figures carefully placed aboutthe floor. Martin, what if there are no reservoirs? What if there arecemeteries instead? Or cold storage units? Maybe the switch I pulled—     Rodney! Stop it!     Rodney swallowed audibly. This place scares me....     The first time I was ever in a rocket, it scared me. I was thirteen.     This is different, Wass said. Built-in traps—     They had a war, Martin said.     Wass agreed. And the survivors retired here. Why?     Martin said, They wanted to rebuild. Or maybe this was already builtbefore the war as a retreat. He turned impatiently. How should Iknow?     Wass turned, too, persistent. But the planet was through with them.     In a minute, Martin said, too irritably, we'll have a sentientplanet. From the corner of his eye he saw Rodney start at that. Knockit off, Wass. We're looking for reservoirs, you know.     They moved slowly down the metal avenue, between the twisted shadowshapes, looking carefully about them.     Rodney paused. We might not recognize one.     Martin urged him on. You know what a man-hole cover looks like. Headded dryly, Use your imagination.     They reached the metal wall at the end of the avenue and paused again,uncertain.     Martin swung his flashlight, illuminating the distorted metal shapes.     Wass said, All this had a purpose, once....     We'll disperse and search carefully, Martin said.     I wonder what the pattern was.     ... The reservoirs, Wass. The pattern will still be here for laterexpeditions to study. So will we if we don't find a way to get out.     Their radios recorded Rodney's gasp. Then—Martin! Martin! I thinkI've found something!     Martin began to run. After a moment's hesitation, Wass swung in behindhim.     Here, Rodney said, as they came up to him, out of breath. Here. See?Right here.     Three flashlights centered on a dark, metal disk raised a foot or morefrom the floor.     Well, they had hands. With his torch Wass indicated a small wheel ofthe same metal as everything else in the city, set beside the disk.     From its design Martin assumed that the disk was meant to be graspedand turned. He wondered what precisely they were standing over.     Well, Skipper, are you going to do the honors?     Martin kneeled, grasped the wheel. It turned easily—almost tooeasily—rotating the disk as it turned.     Suddenly, without a sound, the disk rose, like a hatch, on a concealedhinge.     The three men, clad in their suits and helmets, grouped around thesix-foot opening, shining their torches down into the thing thatdrifted and eddied directly beneath them.     Rodney's sudden grip on Martin's wrist nearly shattered the bone.Martin! It's all alive! It's moving!     Martin hesitated long enough for a coil to move sinuously up toward theopening. Then he spun the wheel and the hatch slammed down.     He was shaking.  <doc-sep>Wass moved silently through the darkness beyond the torches. We allhave guns, Martin.     I'm holding mine. Martin waited.     After a moment, Wass switched his flashlight back on. He said quietly,He's right, Rodney. It would be sure death to monkey around in here.     Well.... Rodney turned quickly toward the black arch. Let's get outof here, then!     Martin hung back waiting for the others to go ahead of him down themetal hall. At the other arch, where the ramp led downward, he called ahalt. If the dome, or whatever it is, is a radiation screen there mustbe at least half-a-dozen emergency exits around the city.     Rodney said, To search every building next to the dome clean aroundthe city would take years.     Martin nodded. But there must be central roads beneath this main levelleading to them. Up here there are too many roads.     Wass laughed rudely.     Have you a better idea?     Wass ignored that, as Martin hoped he would. He said slowly, Thatleads to another idea. If the band around the city is responsible forthe dome, does it project down into the ground as well?     You mean      dig     out? Martin asked.     Sure. Why not?     We're wearing heavy suits and bulky breathing units. We have noequipment.     That shouldn't be hard to come by.     Martin smiled, banishing Wass' idea.     Rodney said, They may have had their digging equipment built right into themselves.     Anyway, Martin decided, we can take a look down below.     In the pitch dark, Wass added.     Martin adjusted his torch, began to lead the way down the metal ramp.The incline was gentle, apparently constructed for legs shorter, feetperhaps less broad than their own. The metal, without mark of any sort,gleamed under the combined light of the torches, unrolling out of thedarkness before the men.     At length the incline melted smoothly into the next level of the city.     Martin shined his light upward, and the others followed his example.Metal as smooth and featureless as that on which they stood shone downon them.     Wass turned his light parallel with the floor, and then moved slowly ina circle. No supports. No supports anywhere. What keeps all that upthere?     I don't know. I have no idea. Martin gestured toward the ramp withhis light. Does all this, this whole place, look at all familiar toyou?     Rodney's gulp was clearly audible through the radio receivers. Here?     No, no, Martin answered impatiently, not just here. I mean the wholecity.     Yes, Wass said dryly, it does. I'm sure this is where all mynightmares stay when they're not on shift.     Martin turned on his heel and started down a metal avenue which, hethought, paralleled the street above. And Rodney and Wass followed himsilently. They moved along the metal, past unfamiliar shapes made moreso by gloom and moving shadows, past doors dancing grotesquely in thethree lights, past openings in the occasional high metal partitions,past something which was perhaps a conveyor belt, past anothersomething which could have been anything at all.     The metal street ended eventually in a blank metal wall.     The edge of the city—the city which was a dome of force above and abowl of metal below.     After a long time, Wass sighed. Well, skipper...?     We go back, I guess, Martin said.     Rodney turned swiftly to face him. Martin thought the tall man washolding his gun. To the switchboard, Martin?     Unless someone has a better idea, Martin conceded. He waited. ButRodney was holding the gun ... and Wass was.... Then—I can't think ofanything else.     They began to retrace their steps along the metal street, back pastthe same dancing shapes of metal, the partitions, the odd windows, alllooking different now in the new angles of illumination.     Martin was in the lead. Wass followed him silently. Rodney, tall,matchstick thin, even in his cumbersome suit, swayed with jauntytriumph in the rear.     Martin looked at the metal street lined with its metal objects and hesighed. He remembered how the dark buildings of the city looked atsurface level, how the city itself looked when they were landing, andthen when they were walking toward it. The dream was gone again fornow. Idealism died in him, again and again, yet it was always reborn.But—The only city, so far as anyone knew, on the first planet they'dever explored. And it had to be like this. Nightmares, Wass said, andMartin thought perhaps the city was built by a race of beings who atsome point twisted away from their evolutionary spiral, plagued by asort of racial insanity.     No, Martin thought, shaking his head. No, that couldn't be.Viewpoint ... his viewpoint. It was the haunting sense of familiarity,a faint strain through all this broad jumble, the junkpile of alienmetal, which was making him theorize so wildly.     Then Wass touched his elbow. Look there, Martin. Left of the ramp.     Light from their torches was reflected, as from glass.     All right, Rodney said belligerently into his radio. What's holdingup the procession?     Martin was silent.     Wass undertook to explain. Why not, after all? Martin asked himself. Itwas in Wass' own interest. In a moment, all three were standing beforea bank of glass cases which stretched off into the distance as far asthe combined light of their torches would reach.     Seeds! Wass exclaimed, his faceplate pressed against the glass.     Martin blinked. He thought how little time they had. He wet his lips.     Wass' gloved hands fumbled awkwardly at a catch in the nearest sectionof the bank.     Martin thought of the dark, convoluted land outside the city. If theywouldn't grow there.... Or had they, once? Don't, Wass!     Torchlight reflected from Wass' faceplate as he turned his head. Whynot?     They were like children.... We don't know, released, what they'll do.     Skipper, Wass said carefully, if we don't get out of this place bythe deadline we may be eating these.     Martin raised his arm tensely. Opening a seed bank doesn't help usfind a way out of here. He started up the ramp. Besides, we've nowater.     Rodney came last up the ramp, less jaunty now, but still holding thegun. His mind, too, was taken up with childhood's imaginings. Fora plant to grow in this environment, it wouldn't need much water.Maybe— he had a vision of evil plants attacking them, growing withsuper-swiftness at the air valves and joints of their suits —only thelittle moisture in the atmosphere.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What are the defining traits of Martin Isherwood, the protagonist of DESIRE NO MORE?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the story of Mackenzie in DESIRE NO MORE? [SEP] <s>  MacKENZIE didn't seem to be taking any notes, or paying any specialattention to the answers Ish was giving to his casual questions. But thequestions fell into a pattern that was far from casual, and Ish couldsee the small button-mike of a portable tape-recorder nestling under theman's lapel.     Been working your own way for the last seventeen years, haven't you?MacKenzie seemed to mumble in a perfectly clear voice.     Ish nodded.     How's that?     The corners of Isherwood's mouth twitched, and he said Yes for therecorder's benefit.     Odd jobs, first of all?     Something like that. Anything I could get, the first few months. AfterI was halfway set up, I stuck to garages and repair shops.     Out at the airports around Miami, mostly, wasn't it?     Ahuh.     Took some of your pay in flying lessons.     Right.     MacKenzie's face passed no judgements—he simply hunched in his chair,seemingly dwarfed by the shoulders of his perfectly tailored suit, hisstubby fingers twiddling a Phi Beta Kappa key. He was a spare man—onlya step or two away from emaciation. Occasionally, he pushed a tiredstrand of washed-out hair away from his forehead.     Ish answered him truthfully, without more than ordinary reservations.This was the man who could ground him He was dangerous—red-letterdangerous—because of it.     No family.     Ish shrugged. Not that I know of. Cut out at seventeen. My father wasmaking good money. He had a pension plan, insurance policies. No need toworry about them.     Ish knew the normal reaction a statement like that should have brought.MacKenzie's face did not go into a blank of repression—but it stillpassed no judgements.     How's things between you and the opposite sex?     About normal.     No wife—no steady girl.     Not a very good idea, in my racket.     MacKenzie grunted. Suddenly, he sat bolt upright in his chair, and swungtoward Ish. His lean arm shot out, and his index finger was aimedbetween Isherwood's eyes. You can't go!     Ish was on his feet, his fists clenched, the blood throbbing in histemple veins. What! he roared.     MacKenzie seemed to collapse in his chair. The brief commanding burstwas over, and his face was apologetic, Sorry, he said. He seemedgenuinely abashed. Shotgun therapy. Works best, sometimes. You can go,all right; I just wanted to get a fast check on your reactions anddrives.     Ish could feel the anger that still ran through him—anger, and morefear than he wanted to admit. I'm due at a briefing, he said tautly.You through with me?     MacKenzie nodded, still embarrassed. Sorry.     Ish ignored the man's obvious feelings. He stopped at the door to send aparting stroke at the thing that had frightened him. Big gun in thepsychiatry racket, huh? Well, your professional lingo's slipping, Doc.They did put      some     learning in my head at college, you know. Therapy,hell! Testing maybe, but you sure didn't do anything to help me!     I don't know, MacKenzie said softly. I wish I did.     Ish slammed the door behind him. He stood in the corridor, jamming afresh cigarette in his mouth. He threw a glance at his watch. Twelvehours, twenty-two minutes, and four days to go.     Damn! He was late for the briefing. Odd—that fool psychiatrist hadn'tseemed to take up that much of his time.     He shrugged. What difference did it make? As he strode down the hall, helost his momentary puzzlement under the flood of realization thatnothing could stop him now, that the last hurdle was beaten. He wasgoing. He was going, and if there were faint echoes of Marty! ringingin the dark background of his mind, they only served to push him faster,as they always had. Nothing but death could stop him now.    <doc-sep>  MacKENZIE was waiting for him in the crew section. Ish flicked hisstolid eyes at him, shrugged, and stripped out of his clothes. He pulleda coverall out of a locker and climbed into it, then went over to hisbunk and lay down on his side, facing the bulkhead.     Ish.     It was MacKenzie, bending over him.     Ish grunted.     It wasn't any good was it? You'd done it all before; you'd been there.     He was past emotions. Yeah?     We couldn't take the chance. MacKenzie was trying desperately toexplain. You were the best there was—but you'd done something toyourself by becoming the best. You shut yourself off from your family.You had no close friends, no women. You had no other interests. You werea rocket pilot—nothing else. You've never read an adult book thatwasn't a text; you've never listened to a symphony except by accident.You don't know Rembrandt from Norman Rockwell. Nothing. No ties, noprops, nothing to sustain you if something went wrong.      We couldn't takethe chance, Ish!          So?     There was too much at stake. If we let you go, you might haveforgotten to come back. You might have just kept going.     He remembered the time with the      Navion     , and nodded. I might have.     I hypnotized you, MacKenzie said. You were never dead. I don't knowwhat the details of your hallucination were, but the important part camethrough, all right. You thought you'd been to the Moon before. It tookall the adventure out of the actual flight; it was just a workadaytrip.     I said it was easy, Ish said.     There was no other way to do it! I had to cancel out the thrill thatcomes from challenging the unknown. You knew what death was like, andyou knew what the Moon was like. Can you understand why I had to do it?     Yeah.      Now get out before I kill you.            He didn't live too long after that. He never entered a rocket again—hedied on the Station, and was buried in space, while a grateful worldmourned him. I wonder what it was like, in his mind, when he reallydied. But he spent the days he had, after the trip, just sitting at anobservatory port, cursing the traitor stars with his dead andpurposeless eyes.      TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:     Obvious typographical errors have been corrected without note.     This etext was produced from Dynamic Science Fiction, January, 1954.Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed.  <doc-sep>  SIT DOWN, Ish, the Flight Surgeon said.       They always begin that way     , Isherwood thought. The standard medicalopening. Sit down. What for? Did somebody really believe that anythinghe might hear would make him faint? He smiled with as much expression ashe ever did, and chose a comfortable chair, rolling the white cylinderof a cigarette between his fingers. He glanced at his watch. Fourteenhours, thirty-six minutes, and four days to go.     How's it? the FS asked.     Ish grinned and shrugged. All right. But he didn't usually grin. Therealization disquieted him a little.     Think you'll make it?     Deliberately, rather than automatically, he fell back into his usualresponse-pattern. Don't know. That's what I'm being paid to find out.     Uh-      huh     . The FS tapped the eraser of his pencil against his teeth.Look—you want to talk to a man for a while?     What man? It didn't really matter. He had a feeling that anything hesaid or did now would have a bearing, somehow, on the trip. If theywanted him to do something for them, he was bloody well going to do it.     Fellow named MacKenzie. Big gun in the head-thumping racket. TheFlight Surgeon was trying to be as casual as he could. Air Forceinsisted on it, as a matter of fact, he said. Can't really blame them.After all, it's      their     beast.     Don't want any hole-heads denting it up on them, huh? Ish lit thecigarette and flipped his lighter shut with a snap of the lid. Sure.Bring him on.     The FS smiled. Good. He's—uh—he's in the next room. Okay to ask himin right now?     Sure. Something flickered in Isherwood's eyes. Amusement at the FlightSurgeon's discomfort was part of it. Worry was some of the rest.    <doc-sep>  He had but one ambition, one desire: to pilot the first manned rocket to     the moon. And he was prepared as no man had ever prepared himself     before....      DESIRE NO MORE     by Algis Budrys     (      illustrated by Milton Luros     )           Desire no more than to thy lot may fall....          —Chaucer    <doc-sep>She was not only trying to get me to commit nonconformity, but makingheretical remarks besides. I awoke that time and half-expected a Deaconto pop out of the tube and turn his electric club upon me.     And I heard the voice nearly every night.     It hammered away.           What if you do fail? Almost anything would be better than themiserable existence you're leading now!          One morning I even caught myself wondering just how I'd go about thisidea of hers. Wondering what the first step might be.     She seemed to read my thoughts. That night she said,       Consult the cybsin the Govpub office. If you look hard enough and long enough, you'llfind a way.          Now, on this morning of the seventeenth day in the ninth month,I ate my boiled egg slowly and actually toyed with the idea. Ithought of being on productive status again. I had almost lost myfanatical craving to be useful to the State, but I did want to bebusy—desperately. I didn't want to be despised any more. I didn'twant to be lonely. I wanted to reproduce myself.     I made my decision suddenly. Waves of emotion carried me along. I gotup, crossed the room to the directory, and pushbuttoned to find thelocation of the nearest Govpub office.     I didn't know what would happen and almost didn't care.      II     Like most important places, the Govpub Office in Center Four wasunderground. I could have taken a tunnelcar more quickly, but it seemedpleasanter to travel topside. Or maybe I just wanted to put this off abit. Think about it. Compose myself.     At the entrance to the Govpub warren there was a big director cyb, aplate with a speaker and switch. The sign on it said to switch it onand get close to the speaker and I did.     The cyb's mechanical voice—they never seem to get the th soundsright—said, This is Branch Four of the Office of GovernmentPublications. Say, 'Publications,' and/or, 'Information desired,' asthoroughly and concisely as possible. Use approved voice and standardphraseology.     Well, simple enough so far. I had always rather prided myself on myknack for approved voice, those flat, emotionless tones that indicateefficiency. And I would never forget how to speak Statese. I said,Applicant desires all pertinent information relative assignment,change or amendment of State Serial designations, otherwise generallyreferred to as nomenclature.     There was a second's delay while the audio patterns tripped relays andbrought the memory tubes in.     Then the cyb said, Proceed to Numbering and Identity section. Consultalphabetical list and diagram on your left for location of same.     Thanks, I said absent-mindedly.     I started to turn away and the cyb said, Information on tanks ismilitary information and classified. State authorization for—     I switched it off.  <doc-sep>Opperly looked at him with a gentle appraisal. You're a strong andvital man, Willard, with a strong man's prides and desires. His voicetrailed off for a bit. Then, Excuse me, Willard, but wasn't there agirl once? A Miss Arkady?     Farquar's ungainly figure froze. He nodded curtly, face averted.     And didn't she go off with a Thinker?     If girls find me ugly, that's their business, Farquar said harshly,still not looking at Opperly. What's that got to do with thisinvitation?     Opperly didn't answer the question. His eyes got more distant. Finallyhe said, In my day we had it a lot easier. A scientist was anacademician, cushioned by tradition.     Willard snorted. Science had already entered the era of the policeinspectors, with laboratory directors and political appointees stiflingenterprise.     Perhaps, Opperly agreed. Still, the scientist lived the safe,restricted, highly respectable life of a university man. He wasn'texposed to the temptations of the world.     Farquar turned on him. Are you implying that the Thinkers will somehowbe able to buy me off?     Not exactly.     You think I'll be persuaded to change my aims? Farquar demandedangrily.     Opperly shrugged his helplessness. No, I don't think you'll changeyour aims.     Clouds encroaching from the west blotted the parallelogram of sunlightbetween the two men.  <doc-sep>Confound the girl, he couldn't help thinking. This morning, when sheshould have made herself scarce, she'd sprawled about sleeping. Now,when he felt like seeing her, when her presence would have added apleasant final touch to his glowing mood, she chose to be absent. Hereally should use his hypnotic control on her, he decided, and againthere sprang into his mind the word—a pet form of her name—that wouldsend her into obedient trance.     No, he told himself again, that was to be reserved for some momentof crisis or desperate danger, when he would need someone to strikesuddenly and unquestioningly for himself and mankind. Caddy was merelya wilful and rather silly girl, incapable at present of understandingthe tremendous tensions under which he operated. When he had time forit, he would train her up to be a fitting companion without hypnosis.     Yet the fact of her absence had a subtly disquieting effect. It shookhis perfect self-confidence just a fraction. He asked himself ifhe'd been wise in summoning the rocket physicists without consultingTregarron.     But this mood, too, he conquered quickly. Tregarron wasn't hisboss, but just the Thinker's most clever salesman, an expert in themumbo-jumbo so necessary for social control in this chaotic era. Hehimself, Jorj Helmuth, was the real leader in theoretics and all-overstrategy, the mind behind the mind behind Maizie.     He stretched himself on the bed, almost instantly achieved maximumrelaxation, turned on the somno-learner, and began the two hour rest heknew would be desirable before the big conference.  <doc-sep>Lubiosa, who had interests in Thorabia, and many agents there, kept hisown counsel. His people were active in the matter and that was enoughfor him. He would report when the time was ripe.     Doubtless, said Zotul unexpectedly, for the youngest at a conferencewas expected to keep his mouth shut and applaud the decisions of hiselders, the Earthmen used all the metal on their planet in buildingthat ship. We cannot possibly bilk them of it; it is their only meansof transport.     Such frank expression of motive was unheard of, even in the secretconclave of conference. Only the speaker's youth could account for it.The speech drew scowls from the brothers and stern rebuke from Koltan.     When your opinion is wanted, we will ask you for it. Meantime,remember your position in the family.     Zotul bowed his head meekly, but he burned with resentment.     Listen to the boy, said the aged father. There is more wisdom in hishead than in all the rest of you. Forget the Earthmen and think only ofthe clay.     Zotul did not appreciate his father's approval, for it only earned hima beating as soon as the old man went to bed. It was a common enoughthing among the brothers Masur, as among everybody, to be frustrated intheir desires. However, they had Zotul to take it out upon, and theydid.     Still smarting, Zotul went back to his designing quarters and thoughtabout the Earthmen. If it was impossible to hope for much in the wayof metal from the Earthmen, what could one get from them? If he couldfigure this problem out, he might rise somewhat in the estimation ofhis brothers. That wouldn't take him out of the rank of scapegoat, ofcourse, but the beatings might become fewer and less severe.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the story of Mackenzie in DESIRE NO MORE?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the importance of the comments made by others regarding the rocket in DESIRE NO MORE? [SEP] <s>  He had but one ambition, one desire: to pilot the first manned rocket to     the moon. And he was prepared as no man had ever prepared himself     before....      DESIRE NO MORE     by Algis Budrys     (      illustrated by Milton Luros     )           Desire no more than to thy lot may fall....          —Chaucer    <doc-sep>What do you      do     ? Steffens asked.     Elb replied quickly, with characteristic simplicity: We can do verylittle. A certain amount of physical knowledge was imparted to us atbirth by the Makers. We spend the main part of our time expanding thatknowledge wherever possible. We have made some progress in the naturalsciences, and some in mathematics. Our purpose in being, you see, isto serve the Makers. Any ability we can acquire will make us that muchmore fit to serve when the Makers return.     When they return? It had not occurred to Steffens until now that therobots expected the Makers to do so.     Elb regarded him out of the band of the circling eye. I see you hadsurmised that the Makers were not coming back.     If the robot could have laughed, Steffens thought it would have, then.But it just stood there, motionless, its tone politely emphatic.     It has always been our belief that the Makers would return. Why elsewould we have been built?     Steffens thought the robot would go on, but it didn't. The question, toElb, was no question at all.     Although Steffens knew already what the robot could not possibly haveknown—that the Makers were gone and would never come back—he was along time understanding. What he did was push this speculation into theback of his mind, to keep it from Elb. He had no desire to destroy afaith.     But it created a problem in him. He had begun to picture for Elb thestructure of human society, and the robot—a machine which did not eator sleep—listened gravely and tried to understand. One day Steffensmentioned God.     God? the robot repeated without comprehension. What is God?     Steffens explained briefly, and the robot answered:     It is a matter which has troubled us. We thought at first that youwere the Makers returning— Steffens remembered the brief lapse, theseeming disappointment he had sensed—but then we probed your mindsand found that you were not, that you were another kind of being,unlike either the Makers or ourselves. You were not even— Elb caughthimself—you did not happen to be telepaths. Therefore we troubledover who made you. We did detect the word 'Maker' in your theology,but it seemed to have a peculiar— Elb paused for a long while—anuntouchable, intangible meaning which varies among you.     Steffens understood. He nodded.     The Makers were the robots' God, were all the God they needed. TheMakers had built them, the planet, the universe. If he were to ask themwho made the Makers, it would be like their asking him who made God.     It was an ironic parallel, and he smiled to himself.     But on that planet, it was the last time he smiled.  <doc-sep>Confound the girl, he couldn't help thinking. This morning, when sheshould have made herself scarce, she'd sprawled about sleeping. Now,when he felt like seeing her, when her presence would have added apleasant final touch to his glowing mood, she chose to be absent. Hereally should use his hypnotic control on her, he decided, and againthere sprang into his mind the word—a pet form of her name—that wouldsend her into obedient trance.     No, he told himself again, that was to be reserved for some momentof crisis or desperate danger, when he would need someone to strikesuddenly and unquestioningly for himself and mankind. Caddy was merelya wilful and rather silly girl, incapable at present of understandingthe tremendous tensions under which he operated. When he had time forit, he would train her up to be a fitting companion without hypnosis.     Yet the fact of her absence had a subtly disquieting effect. It shookhis perfect self-confidence just a fraction. He asked himself ifhe'd been wise in summoning the rocket physicists without consultingTregarron.     But this mood, too, he conquered quickly. Tregarron wasn't hisboss, but just the Thinker's most clever salesman, an expert in themumbo-jumbo so necessary for social control in this chaotic era. Hehimself, Jorj Helmuth, was the real leader in theoretics and all-overstrategy, the mind behind the mind behind Maizie.     He stretched himself on the bed, almost instantly achieved maximumrelaxation, turned on the somno-learner, and began the two hour rest heknew would be desirable before the big conference.  <doc-sep>   Spacemen Die at Home     By EDWARD W. LUDWIG     Illustrated by THORNE     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction October 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        One man's retreat is another's prison ... and       it takes a heap of flying to make a hulk a home!        Forty days of heaven and forty nights of hell. That's the way it'sbeen, Laura. But how can I make you understand? How can I tell youwhat it's like to be young and a man and to dream of reaching thestars? And yet, at the same time, to be filled with a terrible, gnawingfear—a fear locked in my mind during the day and bursting out like anevil jack-in-the-box at night. I must tell you, Laura.     Perhaps if I start at the beginning, the very beginning....     It was the Big Day. All the examinations, the physicals and psychos,were over. The Academy, with its great halls and classrooms andlaboratories, lay hollow and silent, an exhausted thing at sleep afterspawning its first-born.     For it was June in this year of 1995, and we were the graduating classof the U. S. Academy of Interplanetary Flight.     The      first     graduating class, Laura. That's why it was so important,because we were the      first     .     We sat on a little platform, twenty-five of us. Below us was a beachof faces, most of them strange, shining like pebbles in the warm NewMexican sunlight. They were the faces of mothers and fathers andgrandparents and kid brothers and sisters—the people who a short timeago had been only scrawled names on letters from home or words spokenwistfully at Christmas. They were the memory-people who, to me, hadnever really existed.     But today they had become real, and they were here and looking at uswith pride in their eyes.     A voice was speaking, deep, sure, resonant. ... these boys have workedhard for six years, and now they're going to do a lot of big things.They're going to bring us the metals and minerals that we desperatelyneed. They're going to find new land for our colonists, good rich landthat will bear food and be a home for our children. And perhaps mostimportant of all, they'll make other men think of the stars and look upat them and feel humility—for mankind needs humility.     The speaker was Robert Chandler, who'd brought the first rocket down onMars just five years ago, who'd established the first colony there, andwho had just returned from his second hop to Venus.     Instead of listening to his words, I was staring at his broad shouldersand his dark, crew-cut hair and his white uniform which was silk-smoothand skin-tight. I was worshiping him and hating him at the same time,for I was thinking:       He's already reached Mars and Venus. Let him leave Jupiter and theothers alone! Let us be the first to land somewhere! Let us be thefirst!    <doc-sep>You have done well, announced Torp when Thig had completed his reporton the resources and temperatures of various sections of Terra. We nowhave located three worlds fit for colonization and so we will return toOrtha at once.     I will recommend the conquest of this planet, 72-P-3 at once and thecomplete destruction of all biped life upon it. The mental aberrationsof the barbaric natives might lead to endless complications if theywere permitted to exist outside our ordered way of life. I imagine thatthree circuits of the planet about its primary should prove sufficientfor the purposes of complete liquidation.     But why, asked Thig slowly, could we not disarm all the natives andexile them on one of the less desirable continents, Antarctica forexample or Siberia? They are primitive humans even as our race was oncea race of primitives. It is not our duty to help to attain our owndegree of knowledge and comfort?     Only the good of the Horde matters! shouted Torp angrily. Shall arace of feeble-witted beasts, such as these Earthmen, stand in the wayof a superior race? We want their world, and so we will take it. TheLaw of the Horde states that all the universe is ours for the taking.     Let us get back to Ortha at once, then, gritted out Thig savagely.Never again do I wish to set foot upon the soil of this mad planet.There are forces at work upon Earth that we of Ortha have longforgotten.     Check the blood of Thig for disease, Kam, ordered Torp shortly. Hiswords are highly irrational. Some form of fever perhaps native to thisworld. While you examine him I will blast off for Ortha.     Thig followed Kam into the tiny laboratory and found a seat beside thesquat scientist's desk. His eyes roamed over the familiar instrumentsand gauges, each in its own precise position in the cases along thewalls. His gaze lingered longest on the stubby black ugliness ofa decomposition blaster in its rack close to the deck. A blast ofthe invisible radiations from that weapon's hot throat and flesh orvegetable fiber rotted into flaky ashes.     The ship trembled beneath their feet; it tore free from the feebleclutch of the sand about it, and they were rocketing skyward. Thig'sbroad fingers bit deep into the unyielding metal of his chair. Suddenlyhe knew that he must go back to Earth, back to Ellen and the childrenof the man he had helped destroy. He loved Ellen, and nothing muststand between them! The Hordes of Ortha must find some other world, anempty world—this planet was not for them.     Turn back! he cried wildly. I must go back to Earth. There is awoman there, helpless and alone, who needs me! The Horde does not needthis planet.     Kam eyed him coldly and lifted a shining hypodermic syringe from itscase. He approached Thig warily, aware that disease often made a maniacof the finest members of the Horde.     No human being is more important than the Horde, he stated baldly.This woman of whom you speak is merely one unit of the millions wemust eliminate for the good of the Horde.     Then it was that Thig went berserk. His fists slashed into the thickjaw of the scientist and his fingers ripped at the hard cords overlyingthe Orthan's vital throat tubes. His fingers and thumb gouged deep intoKam's startled throat and choked off any cry for assistance before itcould be uttered.     Kam's hand swept down to the holster swung from his intricate harnessand dragged his blaster from it. Thig's other hand clamped over his andfor long moments they swayed there, locked together in silent deadlystruggle. The fate of a world hung in the balance as Kam's other handfought against that lone arm of Thig.  <doc-sep>She was not only trying to get me to commit nonconformity, but makingheretical remarks besides. I awoke that time and half-expected a Deaconto pop out of the tube and turn his electric club upon me.     And I heard the voice nearly every night.     It hammered away.           What if you do fail? Almost anything would be better than themiserable existence you're leading now!          One morning I even caught myself wondering just how I'd go about thisidea of hers. Wondering what the first step might be.     She seemed to read my thoughts. That night she said,       Consult the cybsin the Govpub office. If you look hard enough and long enough, you'llfind a way.          Now, on this morning of the seventeenth day in the ninth month,I ate my boiled egg slowly and actually toyed with the idea. Ithought of being on productive status again. I had almost lost myfanatical craving to be useful to the State, but I did want to bebusy—desperately. I didn't want to be despised any more. I didn'twant to be lonely. I wanted to reproduce myself.     I made my decision suddenly. Waves of emotion carried me along. I gotup, crossed the room to the directory, and pushbuttoned to find thelocation of the nearest Govpub office.     I didn't know what would happen and almost didn't care.      II     Like most important places, the Govpub Office in Center Four wasunderground. I could have taken a tunnelcar more quickly, but it seemedpleasanter to travel topside. Or maybe I just wanted to put this off abit. Think about it. Compose myself.     At the entrance to the Govpub warren there was a big director cyb, aplate with a speaker and switch. The sign on it said to switch it onand get close to the speaker and I did.     The cyb's mechanical voice—they never seem to get the th soundsright—said, This is Branch Four of the Office of GovernmentPublications. Say, 'Publications,' and/or, 'Information desired,' asthoroughly and concisely as possible. Use approved voice and standardphraseology.     Well, simple enough so far. I had always rather prided myself on myknack for approved voice, those flat, emotionless tones that indicateefficiency. And I would never forget how to speak Statese. I said,Applicant desires all pertinent information relative assignment,change or amendment of State Serial designations, otherwise generallyreferred to as nomenclature.     There was a second's delay while the audio patterns tripped relays andbrought the memory tubes in.     Then the cyb said, Proceed to Numbering and Identity section. Consultalphabetical list and diagram on your left for location of same.     Thanks, I said absent-mindedly.     I started to turn away and the cyb said, Information on tanks ismilitary information and classified. State authorization for—     I switched it off.  <doc-sep>So Martin held his peace, because, on the whole, he liked things theway they were. Ninian really was the limit, though. All the people heknew lived in scabrous tenement apartments like his, but she seemed tothink it was disgusting.     So if you don't like it, clean it up, he suggested.     She looked at him as if he were out of his mind.     Hire a maid, then! he jeered.     And darned if that dope didn't go out and get a woman to come clean upthe place! He was so embarrassed, he didn't even dare show his face inthe streets—especially with the women buttonholing him and demandingto know what gave. They tried talking to Ninian, but she certainly knewhow to give them the cold shoulder.     One day the truant officer came to ask why Martin hadn't been comingto school. Very few of the neighborhood kids attended classes veryregularly, so this was just routine. But Ninian didn't know that andshe went into a real tizzy, babbling that Martin had been sick andwould make up the work. Martin nearly did get sick from laughing sohard inside.     But he laughed out of the other side of his mouth when she went out andhired a private tutor for him. A tutor—in that neighborhood! Martinhad to beat up every kid on the block before he could walk a stepwithout hearing Fancy Pants! yelled after him.     Ninian worried all the time. It wasn't that she cared what these peoplethought of her, for she made no secret of regarding them as littlebetter than animals, but she was shy of attracting attention. Therewere an awful lot of people in that neighborhood who felt exactly thesame way, only she didn't know that, either. She was really prettydumb, Martin thought, for all her fancy lingo.     It's so hard to think these things out without any prior practicalapplication to go by, she told him.     He nodded, knowing what she meant was that everything was coming outwrong. But he didn't try to help her; he just watched to see whatshe'd do next. Already he had begun to assume the detached role of aspectator.     When it became clear that his mother was never going to show up again,Ninian bought one of those smallish, almost identical houses thatmushroom on the fringes of a city after every war, particularly whereintensive bombing has created a number of desirable building sites.     This is a much better neighborhood for a boy to grow up in, shedeclared. Besides, it's easier to keep an eye on you here.     And keep an eye on him she did—she or a rather foppish young man whocame to stay with them occasionally. Martin was told to call him UncleRaymond.     From time to time, there were other visitors—Uncles Ives andBartholomew and Olaf, Aunts Ottillie and Grania and Lalage, and manymore—all cousins to one another, he was told, all descendants of his.  <doc-sep>     THE STAR-SENT KNAVES       BY KEITH LAUMER     Illustrated by Gaughan     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of Tomorrow June 1963     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      When the Great Galactic Union first encounters     Earth ... is this what is going to happen?      I     Clyde W. Snithian was a bald eagle of a man, dark-eyed, pot-bellied,with the large, expressive hands of a rug merchant. Round-shoulderedin a loose cloak, he blinked small reddish eyes at Dan Slane'stravel-stained six foot one.     Kelly here tells me you've been demanding to see me. He nodded towardthe florid man at his side. He had a high, thin voice, like somethingthat needed oiling. Something about important information regardingsafeguarding my paintings.     That's right, Mr. Snithian, Dan said. I believe I can be of greathelp to you.     Help how? If you've got ideas of bilking me.... The red eyes boredinto Dan like hot pokers.     Nothing like that, sir. Now, I know you have quite a system of guardshere—the papers are full of it—     Damned busybodies! Sensation-mongers! If it wasn't for the press,I'd have no concern for my paintings today!     Yes sir. But my point is, the one really important spot has been leftunguarded.     Now, wait a minute— Kelly started.     What's that? Snithian cut in.     You have a hundred and fifty men guarding the house and grounds dayand night—     Two hundred and twenty-five, Kelly snapped.     —but no one at all in the vault with the paintings, Slane finished.     Of course not, Snithian shrilled. Why should I post a man in thevault? It's under constant surveillance from the corridor outside.     The Harriman paintings were removed from a locked vault, Dan said.There was a special seal on the door. It wasn't broken.     By the saints, he's right, Kelly exclaimed. Maybe we ought to have aman in that vault.     Another idiotic scheme to waste my money, Snithian snapped. I'vemade you responsible for security here, Kelly! Let's have no morenonsense. And throw this nincompoop out! Snithian turned and stalkedaway, his cloak flapping at his knees.     I'll work cheap, Dan called after him as Kelly took his arm. I'm anart lover.     Never mind that, Kelly said, escorting Dan along the corridor. Heturned in at an office and closed the door.     Now, as the old buzzard said, I'm responsible for security here. Ifthose pictures go, my job goes with them. Your vault idea's not bad.Just how cheap would you work?     A hundred dollars a week, Dan said promptly. Plus expenses, headded.     Kelly nodded. I'll fingerprint you and run a fast agency check. Ifyou're clean, I'll put you on, starting tonight. But keep it quiet.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the importance of the comments made by others regarding the rocket in DESIRE NO MORE?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in CONTROL GROUP? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>   HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS     By JIM HARMON     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Every lonely man tries to make friends.     Manet just didn't know when to stop!      William Manet was alone.     In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It wouldgive him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlateloneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take himto start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to beginteaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminablelectures to a bored and captive audience of one.     He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whetherit was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and asdirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal andthink more like a god than any man for generations.     But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearingbore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.     Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was alreadytalking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he hadcut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up andwinked at it whenever he passed that way.     Lately she was winking back at him.     Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh fromhis arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.     No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manetcould only be this lonely on Mars.     Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.     All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middleof the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat,flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in theblack sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moonsand one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The wholegimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one wasneeded here—no human being, at least.     The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn'ttake much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefullyspecified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycombMars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.     They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated peoplefor the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going toisolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manetand his fellows.     The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fareto Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuterservice for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodationsfor couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren'tproviding fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits betweenthe various Overseers. They weren't very providential.     But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offeredwonderful opportunities.     It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship makinga tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning asbright as envy.  <doc-sep>  Any problem posed by one group ofhuman beings can be resolved by anyother group. That's what the Handbooksaid. But did that include primitivehumans? Or the Bees? Or a ...     CONTROL GROUP     By ROGER DEE  <doc-sep>It was quite a bang, said Retief. But I guess you saw it, too.     No, confound it, Magnan said. When I remonstrated with Hulk, orWhelk—     Whonk.     —the ruffian thrust me into an alley bound in my own cloak. I'll mostcertainly complain to the Minister.     How about the surgical mission?     A most generous offer, said Magnan. Frankly, I was astonished. Ithink perhaps we've judged the Groaci too harshly.     I hear the Ministry of Youth has had a rough morning of it, saidRetief. And a lot of rumors are flying to the effect that Youth Groupsare on the way out.     Magnan cleared his throat, shuffled papers. I—ah—have explained tothe press that last night's—ah—     Fiasco.     —affair was necessary in order to place the culprits in an untenableposition. Of course, as to the destruction of the VIP vessel and thepresumed death of, uh, Slop.     The Fustians understand, said Retief. Whonk wasn't kidding aboutceremonial vengeance.     The Groaci had been guilty of gross misuse of diplomatic privilege,said Magnan. I think that a note—or perhaps an Aide Memoire: lessformal....     The      Moss Rock     was bound for Groaci, said Retief. She was alreadyin her transit orbit when she blew. The major fragments will arrive onschedule in a month or so. It should provide quite a meteorite display.I think that should be all the      aide     the Groaci's      memoires     will needto keep their tentacles off Fust.     But diplomatic usage—     Then, too, the less that's put in writing, the less they can blame youfor, if anything goes wrong.     That's true, said Magnan, lips pursed. Now you're thinkingconstructively, Retief. We may make a diplomat of you yet. He smiledexpansively.     Maybe. But I refuse to let it depress me. Retief stood up. I'mtaking a few weeks off ... if you have no objection, Mr. Ambassador. Mypal Whonk wants to show me an island down south where the fishing isgood.     But there are some extremely important matters coming up, saidMagnan. We're planning to sponsor Senior Citizen Groups—     Count me out. All groups give me an itch.     Why, what an astonishing remark, Retief! After all, we diplomats areourselves a group.     Uh-huh, Retief said.     Magnan sat quietly, mouth open, and watched as Retief stepped into thehall and closed the door gently behind him.   <doc-sep>A few weeks of this and I became a bit dazed.     And then there was the problem of everyday existence. You might sayit's lucky to be an N/P for a while. I've heard people say that. Basicneeds provided, worlds of leisure time; on the surface it soundsattractive.     But let me give you an example. Say it is monthly realfood day. You goto the store, your mouth already watering in anticipation. You takeyour place in line and wait for your package. The distributor takesyour coupon book and is all ready to reach for your package—and thenhe sees the fatal letters N/P. Non-Producer. A drone, a drain upon theState. You can see his stare curdle. He scowls at the book again.     Not sure this is in order. Better go to the end of the line. We'llcheck it later.     You know what happens before the end of the line reaches the counter.No more packages.     Well, I couldn't get myself off N/P status until I got a post, andwith my name I      couldn't     get a post.     Nor could I change my name. You know what happens when you try tochange something already on the records. The very idea of wantingchange implies criticism of the State. Unthinkable behavior.     That was why this curious dream voice shocked me so. The thing that itsuggested was quite as embarrassing as its non-standard, emotional,provocative tone.     Bear with me; I'm getting to the voice—to      her     —in a moment.     I want to tell you first about the loneliness, the terrible loneliness.I could hardly join group games at any of the rec centers. I could joinno special interest clubs or even State Loyalty chapters. Although Idabbled with theoretical research in my own quarters, I could scarcelysubmit any findings for publication—not with my name attached. Apseudonym would have been non-regulation and illegal.     But there was the worst thing of all. I could not mate.  <doc-sep>   AIDE MEMOIRE     BY KEITH LAUMER     The Fustians looked like turtles—but     they could move fast when they chose!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Across the table from Retief, Ambassador Magnan rustled a stiff sheetof parchment and looked grave.     This aide memoire, he said, was just handed to me by the CulturalAttache. It's the third on the subject this week. It refers to thematter of sponsorship of Youth groups—     Some youths, Retief said. Average age, seventy-five.     The Fustians are a long-lived people, Magnan snapped. These mattersare relative. At seventy-five, a male Fustian is at a trying age—     That's right. He'll try anything—in the hope it will maim somebody.     Precisely the problem, Magnan said. But the Youth Movement isthe important news in today's political situation here on Fust. Andsponsorship of Youth groups is a shrewd stroke on the part of theTerrestrial Embassy. At my suggestion, well nigh every member of themission has leaped at the opportunity to score a few p—that is, cementrelations with this emergent power group—the leaders of the future.You, Retief, as Councillor, are the outstanding exception.     I'm not convinced these hoodlums need my help in organizing theirrumbles, Retief said. Now, if you have a proposal for a pest controlgroup—     To the Fustians this is no jesting matter, Magnan cut in. Thisgroup— he glanced at the paper—known as the Sexual, Cultural, andAthletic Recreational Society, or SCARS for short, has been awaitingsponsorship for a matter of weeks now.     Meaning they want someone to buy them a clubhouse, uniforms, equipmentand anything else they need to complete their sexual, cultural andathletic development, Retief said.     If we don't act promptly, Magnan said, the Groaci Embassy may wellanticipate us. They're very active here.     That's an idea, said Retief. Let 'em. After awhile they'll go brokeinstead of us.     Nonsense. The group requires a sponsor. I can't actually order you tostep forward. However.... Magnan let the sentence hang in the air.Retief raised one eyebrow.     For a minute there, he said, I thought you were going to make apositive statement.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>The President's Secretary, a paunchy veteran of party caucuses, wasalso glad that it was the Thinkers who had created the machine, thoughhe trembled at the power that it gave them over the Administration.Still, you could do business with the Thinkers. And nobody (not eventhe Thinkers) could do business (that sort of business) with Maizie!     Before that great square face with its thousands of tiny metalfeatures, only Jorj Helmuth seemed at ease, busily entering on thetape the complex Questions of the Day that the high officials hadhanded him: logistics for the Endless War in Pakistan, optimum size fornext year's sugar-corn crop, current thought trends in average Sovietminds—profound questions, yet many of them phrased with surprisingsimplicity. For figures, technical jargon, and layman's language werealike to Maizie; there was no need to translate into mathematicalshorthand, as with the lesser brain-machines.     The click of the taper went on until the Secretary of State had twicenervously fired a cigaret with his ultrasonic lighter and twice quicklyput it away. No one spoke.     Jorj looked up at the Secretary of Space. Section Five, QuestionFour—whom would that come from?     The burly man frowned. That would be the physics boys, Opperly'sgroup. Is anything wrong?     Jorj did not answer. A bit later he quit taping and began to adjustcontrols, going up on the boom-chair to reach some of them. Eventuallyhe came down and touched a few more, then stood waiting.     From the great cube came a profound, steady purring. Involuntarily thesix officials backed off a bit. Somehow it was impossible for a man toget used to the sound of Maizie starting to think.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in CONTROL GROUP?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the role of Farrell in the story CONTROL GROUP and how does his character develop? [SEP] <s>  The  cool green disk of AlphardSix on the screen wasinfinitely welcome after the ariddesolation and stinking swamplandsof the inner planets, anairy jewel of a world that mighthave been designed specificallyfor the hard-earned month ofrest ahead. Navigator Farrell,youngest and certainly most impulsiveof the three-man TerranReclamations crew, would haveset the      Marco Four     down atonce but for the greater cautionof Stryker, nominally captain ofthe group, and of Gibson, engineer,and linguist. Xavier, theship's little mechanical, had—aswas usual and proper—no voicein the matter.     Reconnaissance spiral first,Arthur, Stryker said firmly. Hechuckled at Farrell's instantscowl, his little eyes twinklingand his naked paunch quakingover the belt of his shipboardshorts. Chapter One, SubsectionFive, Paragraph Twenty-seven:      No planetfall on an unreclaimedworld shall be deemedsafe without proper—          Farrell, as Stryker had expected,interrupted with characteristicimpatience. Do you      sleep     with that damned ReclamationsHandbook, Lee? Alphard Sixisn't an unreclaimed world—itwas never colonized before theHymenop invasion back in 3025,so why should it be inhabitednow?     Gibson, who for four hourshad not looked up from his interminablechess game withXavier, paused with a beleagueredknight in one blunt brownhand.     No point in taking chances,Gibson said in his neutral baritone.He shrugged thick bareshoulders, his humorless black-browedface unmoved, whenFarrell included him in hisscowl. We're two hundred twenty-sixlight-years from Sol, atthe old limits of Terran expansion,and there's no knowingwhat we may turn up here. Alphard'swas one of the first systemsthe Bees took over. It musthave been one of the last to beabandoned when they pulled backto 70 Ophiuchi.     And I think      you     live for theday, Farrell said acidly, whenwe'll stumble across a functioningdome of live, buzzing Hymenops.Damn it, Gib, the Beespulled out a hundred years ago,before you and I were born—neitherof us ever saw a Hymenop,and never will!     But I saw them, Strykersaid. I fought them for the betterpart of the century they werehere, and I learned there's nopredicting nor understandingthem. We never knew why theycame nor why they gave up andleft. How can we know whetherthey'd leave a rear-guard orbooby trap here?     He put a paternal hand onFarrell's shoulder, understandingthe younger man's eagernessand knowing that their close-knitteam would have been themore poorly balanced without it.     Gib's right, he said. Henearly added      as usual     . We're onrest leave at the moment, yes,but our mission is still to findTerran colonies enslaved andabandoned by the Bees, not torisk our necks and a valuableReorientations ship by landingblind on an unobserved planet.We're too close already. Cut inyour shields and find a reconnaissancespiral, will you?     Grumbling, Farrell punchedcoordinates on the Ringwaveboard that lifted the      Marco Four     out of her descent and restoredthe bluish enveloping haze ofher repellors.     Stryker's caution was justifiedon the instant. The speedingstreamlined shape that had flashedup unobserved from belowswerved sharply and exploded ina cataclysmic blaze of atomicfire that rocked the ship wildlyand flung the three men to thefloor in a jangling roar ofalarms.      So the Handbook tacticiansknew what they were about,Stryker said minutes later. Deliberatelyhe adopted the smugtone best calculated to sting Farrellout of his first self-reproach,and grinned when the navigatorbristled defensively. Some oftheir enjoinders seem a littlestuffy and obvious at times, butthey're eminently sensible.     When Farrell refused to bebaited Stryker turned to Gibson,who was busily assessing thedamage done to the ship's morefragile equipment, and to Xavier,who searched the planet'ssurface with the ship's magnoscanner.The      Marco Four     , Ringwavegenerators humming gently,hung at the moment justinside the orbit of Alphard Six'ssingle dun-colored moon.     Gibson put down a test meterwith an air of finality.     Nothing damaged but theZero Interval Transfer computer.I can realign that in a coupleof hours, but it'll have to bedone before we hit Transferagain.      Stryker looked dubious.What if the issue is forced beforethe ZIT unit is repaired?Suppose they come up after us?     I doubt that they can. Anyinstallation crudely enoughequipped to trust in guided missilesis hardly likely to have developedefficient space craft.     Stryker was not reassured.     That torpedo of theirs wasdeadly enough, he said. Andits nature reflects the nature ofthe people who made it. Any racevicious enough to use atomiccharges is too dangerous totrifle with. Worry made comicalcreases in his fat, good-humoredface. We'll have to findout who they are and whythey're here, you know.     They can't be Hymenops,Gibson said promptly. First,because the Bees pinned theirfaith on Ringwave energy fields,as we did, rather than on missiles.Second, because there's nodome on Six.     There were three emptydomes on Five, which is a desertplanet, Farrell pointed out.Why didn't they settle Six? It'sa more habitable world.     Gibson shrugged. I know theBees always erected domes onevery planet they colonized, Arthur,but precedent is a fallibletool. And it's even more firmlyestablished that there's no possibilityof our rationalizing themotivations of a culture as alienas the Hymenops'—we've beenover that argument a hundredtimes on other reclaimedworlds.     But this was never an unreclaimedworld, Farrell saidwith the faint malice of one toorecently caught in the wrong.Alphard Six was surveyed andseeded with Terran bacteriaaround the year 3000, but theBees invaded before we couldcolonize. And that means we'llhave to rule out any resurgentcolonial group down there, becauseSix never had a colony inthe beginning.     The Bees have been gone forover a hundred years, Strykersaid. Colonists might have migratedfrom another Terran-occupiedplanet.     Gibson disagreed.     We've touched at every inhabitedworld in this sector, Lee,and not one surviving colony hasdeveloped space travel on itsown. The Hymenops had a hundredyears to condition their humanslaves to ignorance ofeverything beyond their immediateenvironment—the motivesbehind that conditioning usuallyescape us, but that's beside thepoint—and they did a thoroughjob of it. The colonists have hadno more than a century of freedomsince the Bees pulled out,and four generations simplyisn't enough time for any subjugatedculture to climb fromslavery to interstellar flight.     Stryker made a padding turnabout the control room, tuggingunhappily at the scanty fringeof hair the years had left him.     If they're neither Hymenopsnor resurgent colonists, he said,then there's only one choice remaining—they'realiens from asystem we haven't reached yet,beyond the old sphere of Terranexploration. We always assumedthat we'd find other races outhere someday, and that they'dbe as different from us in formand motivation as the Hymenops.Why not now?     Gibson said seriously, Notprobable, Lee. The same objectionthat rules out the Bees appliesto any trans-Alphardianculture—they'd have to be beyondthe atomic fission stage,else they'd never have attemptedinterstellar flight. The Ringwavewith its Zero Interval Transferprinciple and instantaneous communicationsapplications is theonly answer to long-range travel,and if they'd had that theywouldn't have bothered withatomics.     Stryker turned on him almostangrily. If they're not Hymenopsor humans or aliens, thenwhat in God's name      are     they?      Aye, there's the rub, Farrellsaid, quoting a passagewhose aptness had somehow seenit through a dozen reorganizationsof insular tongue and afinal translation to universalTerran. If they're none of thosethree, we've only one conclusionleft. There's no one down thereat all—we're victims of the firstjoint hallucination in psychiatrichistory.     Stryker threw up his hands insurrender. We can't identifythem by theorizing, and thatbrings us down to the businessof first-hand investigation.Who's going to bell the cat thistime?     I'd like to go, Gibson saidat once. The ZIT computer canwait.     Stryker vetoed his offer aspromptly. No, the ZIT comesfirst. We may have to run for it,and we can't set up a Transferjump without the computer. It'sgot to be me or Arthur.     Farrell felt the familiar chillof uneasiness that inevitablypreceded this moment of decision.He was not lacking in courage,else the circumstances underwhich he had worked for thepast ten years—the sometimesperilous, sometimes downrightcharnel conditions left by thefleeing Hymenop conquerors—wouldhave broken him longago. But that same hard experiencehad honed rather thanblunted the edge of his imagination,and the prospect of a close-quartersstalking of an unknownand patently hostile force wasanything but attractive.     You two did the field workon the last location, he said.It's high time I took my turn—andGod knows I'd go mad ifI had to stay inship and listento Lee memorizing his Handbooksubsections or to Gib practicingdead languages with Xavier.     Stryker laughed for the firsttime since the explosion thathad so nearly wrecked the      MarcoFour     .     Good enough. Though itwouldn't be more diverting tolisten for hours to you improvisingenharmonic variations onthe      Lament for Old Terra     withyour accordion.     Gibson, characteristically, hada refinement to offer.     They'll be alerted down therefor a reconnaissance sally, hesaid. Why not let Xavier takethe scouter down for overt diversion,and drop Arthur off inthe helihopper for a low-levelcheck?     Stryker looked at Farrell. Allright, Arthur?     Good enough, Farrell said.And to Xavier, who had notmoved from his post at the magnoscanner:How does it look,Xav? Have you pinned downtheir base yet?     The mechanical answered himin a voice as smooth and clear—andas inflectionless—as a 'cellonote. The planet seems uninhabitedexcept for a large islandsome three hundred miles indiameter. There are twenty-sevensmall agrarian hamlets surroundedby cultivated fields.There is one city of perhaps athousand buildings with a centralsquare. In the square restsa grounded spaceship of approximatelyten times the bulkof the      Marco Four     .     They crowded about the visionscreen, jostling Xavier's jointedgray shape in their interest. Thecentral city lay in minutest detailbefore them, the batteredhulk of the grounded ship glintingrustily in the late afternoonsunlight. Streets radiated awayfrom the square in orderly succession,the whole so clearlydepicted that they could see thethrongs of people surging upand down, tiny foreshortenedfaces turned toward the sky.     At least they're human,Farrell said. Relief replaced insome measure his earlier uneasiness.Which means that they'reTerran, and can be dealt withaccording to Reclamations routine.Is that hulk spaceworthy,Xav?     Xavier's mellow drone assumedthe convention vibrato thatindicated stark puzzlement. Itsbreached hull makes the ship incapableof flight. Apparently itis used only to supply power tothe outlying hamlets.     The mechanical put a flexiblegray finger upon an indicatorgraph derived from a compositesection of detector meters. Thepower transmitted seems to begross electric current conveyedby metallic cables. It is generatedthrough a crudely governedprocess of continuous atomicfission.      Farrell, himself appalled bythe information, still found himselfable to chuckle at Stryker'sbellow of consternation.           Continuous fission?     GoodGod, only madmen would deliberatelyrun a risk like that!     Farrell prodded him withcheerful malice. Why say mad      men     ? Maybe they're humanoidaliens who thrive on hard radiationand look on the danger ofbeing blown to hell in the middleof the night as a satisfactoryrisk.     They're not alien, Gibsonsaid positively. Their architectureis Terran, and so is theirship. The ship is incrediblyprimitive, though; those batteriesof tubes at either end—     Are thrust reaction jets,Stryker finished in an awedvoice. Primitive isn't the word,Gib—the thing is prehistoric!Rocket propulsion hasn't beenused in spacecraft since—howlong, Xav?     Xavier supplied the informationwith mechanical infallibility.Since the year 2100 whenthe Ringwave propulsion-communicationprinciple was discovered.That principle has servedmen since.     Farrell stared in blank disbeliefat the anomalous craft onthe screen. Primitive, as Strykerhad said, was not the wordfor it: clumsily ovoid, studdedwith torpedo domes and turretsand bristling at either end withpropulsion tubes, it lay at thecenter of its square like a rustedrelic of a past largely destroyedand all but forgotten. What amagnificent disregard its buildersmust have had, he thought,for their lives and the geneticpurity of their posterity! Thesullen atomic fires banked inthat oxidizing hulk—     Stryker said plaintively, Ifyou're right, Gib, then we'remore in the dark than ever. Howcould a Terran-built ship elevenhundred years old get      here     ?     Gibson, absorbed in his chess-player'scontemplation of alternatives,seemed hardly to hearhim.     Logic or not-logic, Gibsonsaid. If it's a Terran artifact,we can discover the reason forits presence. If not—           Any problem posed by onegroup of human beings     , Strykerquoted his Handbook,       can beresolved by any other group, regardlessof ideology or conditioning,because the basicperceptive abilities of both mustbe the same through identicalheredity     .     If it's an imitation, and thisis another Hymenop experimentin condition ecology, then we'restumped to begin with, Gibsonfinished. Because we're notequipped to evaluate the psychologyof alien motivation. We'vegot to determine first which caseapplies here.      He waited for Farrell's expectedirony, and when thenavigator forestalled him by remaininggrimly quiet, continued.     The obvious premise is thata Terran ship must have beenbuilt by Terrans. Question: Wasit flown here, or built here?     It couldn't have been builthere, Stryker said. AlphardSix was surveyed just before theBees took over in 3025, and therewas nothing of the sort herethen. It couldn't have been builtduring the two and a quartercenturies since; it's obviouslymuch older than that. It wasflown here.     We progress, Farrell saiddryly. Now if you'll tell us      how     ,we're ready to move.     I think the ship was built onTerra during the Twenty-secondCentury, Gibson said calmly.The atomic wars during thatperiod destroyed practically allhistorical records along with thetechnology of the time, but I'veread well-authenticated reportsof atomic-driven ships leavingTerra before then for the nearerstars. The human race climbedout of its pit again during theTwenty-third Century and developedthe technology that gaveus the Ringwave. Certainly noatomic-powered ships were builtafter the wars—our records arecomplete from that time.     Farrell shook his head at theinference. I've read any numberof fanciful romances on thetheme, Gib, but it won't standup in practice. No shipboard societycould last through a thousand-yearspace voyage. It's aphysical and psychological impossibility.There's got to besome other explanation.      Gibson shrugged. We canonly eliminate the least likelyalternatives and accept the simplestone remaining.     Then we can eliminate thisone now, Farrell said flatly. Itentails a thousand-year voyage,which is an impossibility for anygross reaction drive; the applicationof suspended animationor longevity or a successive-generationprogram, and a finalpenetration of Hymenop-occupiedspace to set up a colony underthe very antennae of theBees. Longevity wasn't developeduntil around the year 3000—Leehere was one of the first toprofit by it, if you remember—andsuspended animation is stillto come. So there's one theoryyou can forget.     Arthur's right, Stryker saidreluctantly. An atomic-poweredship      couldn't     have made such atrip, Gib. And such a lineal-descendantproject couldn't havelasted through forty generations,speculative fiction to thecontrary—the later generationswould have been too far removedin ideology and intent fromtheir ancestors. They'd haveadapted to shipboard life as thenorm. They'd have atrophiedphysically, perhaps even havemutated—     And they'd never havefought past the Bees during theHymenop invasion and occupation,Farrell finished triumphantly.The Bees had betterdetection equipment than wehad. They'd have picked thisship up long before it reachedAlphard Six.     But the ship wasn't here in3000, Gibson said, and it isnow. Therefore it must have arrivedat some time during thetwo hundred years of Hymenopoccupation and evacuation.     Farrell, tangled in contradictions,swore bitterly. Butwhy should the Bees let themthrough? The three domes onFive are over two hundred yearsold, which means that the Beeswere here before the ship came.Why didn't they blast it or enslaveits crew?     We haven't touched on all thepossibilities, Gibson remindedhim. We haven't even establishedyet that these people werenever under Hymenop control.Precedent won't hold always, andthere's no predicting nor evaluatingthe motives of an alienrace. We never understood theHymenops because there's nocommon ground of logic betweenus. Why try to interpret theirintentions now?     Farrell threw up his hands indisgust. Next you'll say this isan ancient Terran expeditionthat actually succeeded! There'sonly one way to answer thequestions we've raised, andthat's to go down and see forourselves. Ready, Xav?      But uncertainty nagged uneasilyat him when Farrell foundhimself alone in the helihopperwith the forest flowing beneathlike a leafy river and Xavier'sscouter disappearing bulletlikeinto the dusk ahead.     We never found a colony soadvanced, Farrell thought. Supposethis is a Hymenop experimentthat really paid off? TheBees did some weird and wonderfulthings with humanguinea pigs—what if they'vecreated the ultimate booby traphere, and primed it with conditionedmyrmidons in our ownform?     Suppose, he thought—and deridedhimself for thinking it—oneof those suicidal old interstellarventures      did     succeed?     Xavier's voice, a mellowdrone from the helihopper'sRingwave-powered visicom, cutsharply into his musing. Theship has discovered the scouterand is training an electronicbeam upon it. My instrumentsrecord an electromagnetic vibrationpattern of low power butrapidly varying frequency. Theoperation seems pointless.     Stryker's voice followed, querulouswith worry: I'd betterpull Xav back. It may be somethinglethal.     Don't, Gibson's baritone advised.Surprisingly, there wasexcitement in the engineer'svoice. I think they're trying tocommunicate with us.     Farrell was on the point ofdemanding acidly to know howone went about communicatingby means of a fluctuating electricfield when the unexpectedcessation of forest diverted hisattention. The helihopper scuddedover a cultivated areaof considerable extent, fieldsstretching below in a vague randomcheckerboard of lighter anddarker earth, an undefined clusterof buildings at their center.There was a central bonfire thatburned like a wild red eyeagainst the lower gloom, and inits plunging ruddy glow he madeout an urgent scurrying of shadowyfigures.     I'm passing over a hamlet,Farrell reported. The one nearestthe city, I think. There'ssomething odd going ondown—     Catastrophe struck so suddenlythat he was caught completelyunprepared. The helihopper'sflimsy carriage bucked andcrumpled. There was a blindingflare of electric discharge, apungent stink of ozone and astunning shock that flung himheadlong into darkness.      He awoke slowly with a brutalheadache and a conviction ofnightmare heightened by theoutlandish tone of his surroundings.He lay on a narrow bed ina whitely antiseptic infirmary,an oblong metal cell clutteredwith a grimly utilitarian arrayof tables and lockers and chests.The lighting was harsh andoverbright and the air hungthick with pungent unfamiliarchemical odors. From somewhere,far off yet at the sametime as near as the bulkheadabove him, came the unceasingdrone of machinery.     Farrell sat up, groaning,when full consciousness made hisposition clear. He had been shotdown by God knew what sort ofdevastating unorthodox weaponand was a prisoner in thegrounded ship.     At his rising, a white-smockedfat man with anachronistic spectaclesand close-cropped grayhair came into the room, movingwith the professional assuranceof a medic. The man stoppedshort at Farrell's stare andspoke; his words were utterlyunintelligible, but his gesturewas unmistakable.     Farrell followed him dumblyout of the infirmary and downa bare corridor whose metalfloor rang coldly underfoot. Anopen port near the corridor's endrelieved the blankness of walland let in a flood of reddish Alphardiansunlight; Farrell slowedto look out, wondering howlong he had lain unconscious,and felt panic knife at himwhen he saw Xavier's scouter lying,port open and undefended,on the square outside.     The mechanical had been aseasily taken as himself, then.Stryker and Gibson, for all theirprofessional caution, would fareno better—they could not haveoverlooked the capture of Farrelland Xavier, and when theytried as a matter of course torescue them the      Marco     would bestruck down in turn by the sameweapon.     The fat medic turned andsaid something urgent in hisunintelligible tongue. Farrell,dazed by the enormity of whathad happened, followed withoutprotest into an intersecting waythat led through a bewilderingsuccession of storage rooms andhydroponics gardens, through asmall gymnasium fitted withphysical training equipment ingraduated sizes and finally intoa soundproofed place that couldhave been nothing but a nursery.     The implication behind itspresence stopped Farrell short.     A      creche     , he said, stunned.He had a wild vision of endlessgenerations of children growingup in this dim and stuffy room,to be taught from their firsttoddling steps the functions theymust fulfill before the ventureof which they were a part couldbe consummated.     One of those old ventures      had     succeeded, he thought, and wasawed by the daring of that thousand-yearodyssey. The realizationleft him more alarmed thanbefore—for what technical marvelsmight not an isolated groupof such dogged specialists havedeveloped during a millenniumof application?     Such a weapon as had broughtdown the helihopper and scouterwas patently beyond reach of hisown latter-day technology. Perhaps,he thought, its possessionexplained the presence of thesepeople here in the first strongholdof the Hymenops; perhapsthey had even fought and defeatedthe Bees on their own invadedground.     He followed his white-smockedguide through a power roomwhere great crude generatorswhirred ponderously, pouringout gross electric current intoarm-thick cables. They werenearing the bow of the shipwhen they passed by anotheropen port and Farrell, glancingout over the lowered rampway,saw that his fears for Strykerand Gibson had been wellgrounded.     The      Marco Four     , ports open,lay grounded outside.      Farrell could not have said,later, whether his next movewas planned or reflexive. Thewhole desperate issue seemed tohang suspended for a breathlessmoment upon a hair-fine edge ofdecision, and in that instant hemade his bid.     Without pausing in his stridehe sprang out and through theport and down the steep planeof the ramp. The rough stonepavement of the square drummedunderfoot; sore musclestore at him, and weakness waslike a weight about his neck. Heexpected momentarily to beblasted out of existence.     He reached the      Marco Four     with the startled shouts of hisguide ringing unintelligibly inhis ears. The port yawned; heplunged inside and stabbed atcontrols without waiting to seathimself. The ports swung shut.The ship darted up under hismanipulation and arrowed intospace with an acceleration thatsprung his knees and made hisvision swim blackly.     He was so weak with strainand with the success of his coupthat he all but fainted whenStryker, his scanty hair tousledand his fat face comical with bewilderment,stumbled out of hissleeping cubicle and bellowed athim.     What the hell are you doing,Arthur? Take us down!     Farrell gaped at him, speechless.     Stryker lumbered past himand took the controls, spiralingthe      Marco Four     down. Menswarmed outside the ports whenthe Reclamations craft settledgently to the square again. Gibsonand Xavier reached the shipfirst; Gibson came inside quickly,leaving the mechanical outsidemaking patient explanationsto an excited group of Alphardians.     Gibson put a reassuring handon Farrell's arm. It's all right,Arthur. There's no trouble.     Farrell said dumbly, I don'tunderstand. They didn't shootyou and Xav down too?     It was Gibson's turn to stare.     No one shot you down! Thesepeople are primitive enough touse metallic power lines tocarry electricity to their hamlets,an anachronism you forgotlast night. You piloted the helihopperinto one of those lines,and the crash put you out forthe rest of the night and mostof today. These Alphardians arefriendly, so desperately happy tobe found again that it's reallypathetic.           Friendly?     That torpedo—     It wasn't a torpedo at all,Stryker put in. Understandingof the error under which Farrellhad labored erased hisearlier irritation, and he chuckledcommiseratingly. They hadone small boat left for emergencymissions, and sent it up tocontact us in the fear that wemight overlook their settlementand move on. The boat wasatomic powered, and our shieldscreens set off its engines.     Farrell dropped into a chair atthe chart table, limp with reaction.He was suddenly exhausted,and his head ached dully.     We cracked the communicationsproblem early last night,Gibson said. These people usean ancient system of electromagneticwave propagation calledfrequency modulation, and onceLee and I rigged up a suitabletransceiver the rest was simple.Both Xav and I recognized theold language; the natives reportedyour accident, and we camedown at once.     They really came from Terra?They lived through a thousandyears of flight?     The ship left Terra forSirius in 2171, Gibson said.But not with these peopleaboard, or their ancestors. Thatexpedition perished after lessthan a light-year when itshydroponics system failed. TheHymenops found the ship derelictwhen they invaded us, andbrought it to Alphard Six inwhat was probably their first experimentwith human subjects.The ship's log shows clearlywhat happened to the originalcomplement. The rest is deduciblefrom the situation here.     Farrell put his hands to histemples and groaned. The crashmust have scrambled my wits.Gib, where      did     they come from?     From one of the first peripheralcolonies conquered by theBees, Gibson said patiently.The Hymenops were long-rangeplanners, remember, and mastersof hypnotic conditioning. Theystocked the ship with a captivecrew of Terrans conditioned tobelieve themselves descendantsof the original crew, andgrounded it here in disabledcondition. They left for AlphardFive then, to watch developments.     Succeeding generations ofcolonists grew up accepting thefact that their ship had missedSirius and made planetfall here—theystill don't know wherethey really are—by luck. Theynever knew about the Hymenops,and they've struggled alongwith an inadequate technology inthe hope that a later expeditionwould find them. They found thetruth hard to take, but they'reeager to enjoy the fruits of Terranassimilation.     Stryker, grinning, broughtFarrell a frosted drink that tinkledinvitingly. An unusuallyfortunate ending to a Hymenopexperiment, he said. Thesepeople progressed normally becausethey've been let alone. Reorientingthem will be a simplematter; they'll be properly spoiledcolonists within another generation.     Farrell sipped his drink appreciatively.     But I don't see why the Beesshould go to such trouble to deceivethese people. Why did theysit back and let them grow asthey pleased, Gib? It doesn'tmake sense!     But it does, for once, Gibsonsaid. The Bees set up thiscolony as a control unit to studythe species they were invading,and they had to give theirspecimens a normal—if obsolete—backgroundin order to determinetheir capabilities. The factthat their experiment didn't tellthem what they wanted to knowmay have had a direct bearingon their decision to pull out.     Farrell shook his head. It'sa reverse application, isn't it ofthe old saw about Terrans beingincapable of understanding analien culture?     Of course, said Gibson, surprised.It's obvious enough,surely—hard as they tried, theBees never understood useither.     THE END     Transcriber's Note:    This etext was produced from    Amazing Science Fiction Stories   January1960. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling andtypographical errors have been corrected without note.<doc-sep>   AIDE MEMOIRE     BY KEITH LAUMER     The Fustians looked like turtles—but     they could move fast when they chose!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Across the table from Retief, Ambassador Magnan rustled a stiff sheetof parchment and looked grave.     This aide memoire, he said, was just handed to me by the CulturalAttache. It's the third on the subject this week. It refers to thematter of sponsorship of Youth groups—     Some youths, Retief said. Average age, seventy-five.     The Fustians are a long-lived people, Magnan snapped. These mattersare relative. At seventy-five, a male Fustian is at a trying age—     That's right. He'll try anything—in the hope it will maim somebody.     Precisely the problem, Magnan said. But the Youth Movement isthe important news in today's political situation here on Fust. Andsponsorship of Youth groups is a shrewd stroke on the part of theTerrestrial Embassy. At my suggestion, well nigh every member of themission has leaped at the opportunity to score a few p—that is, cementrelations with this emergent power group—the leaders of the future.You, Retief, as Councillor, are the outstanding exception.     I'm not convinced these hoodlums need my help in organizing theirrumbles, Retief said. Now, if you have a proposal for a pest controlgroup—     To the Fustians this is no jesting matter, Magnan cut in. Thisgroup— he glanced at the paper—known as the Sexual, Cultural, andAthletic Recreational Society, or SCARS for short, has been awaitingsponsorship for a matter of weeks now.     Meaning they want someone to buy them a clubhouse, uniforms, equipmentand anything else they need to complete their sexual, cultural andathletic development, Retief said.     If we don't act promptly, Magnan said, the Groaci Embassy may wellanticipate us. They're very active here.     That's an idea, said Retief. Let 'em. After awhile they'll go brokeinstead of us.     Nonsense. The group requires a sponsor. I can't actually order you tostep forward. However.... Magnan let the sentence hang in the air.Retief raised one eyebrow.     For a minute there, he said, I thought you were going to make apositive statement.  <doc-sep>Most of the cousins gasped as the truth began to percolate through.     I knew from the very beginning, Conrad finished, that I didn'thave to do anything at all. I just had to wait and you would destroyyourselves.     I don't understand, Bartholomew protested, searching the faces of thecousins closest to him. What does he mean, we have never existed?We're here, aren't we? What—     Shut up! Raymond snapped. He turned on Martin. You don't seemsurprised.     The old man grinned. I'm not. I figured it all out years ago.     At first, he had wondered what he should do. Would it be better tothrow them into a futile panic by telling them or to do nothing? Hehad decided on the latter; that was the role they had assigned him—towatch and wait and keep out of things—and that was the role he wouldplay.     You knew all the time and you didn't tell us! Raymond spluttered.After we'd been so good to you, making a gentleman out of you insteadof a criminal.... That's right, he snarled, a criminal! An alcoholic,a thief, a derelict! How do you like that?     Sounds like a rich, full life, Martin said wistfully.     What an exciting existence they must have done him out of! But then, hecouldn't help thinking, he—he and Conrad together, of course—had donethem out of      any     kind of existence. It wasn't his responsibility,though; he had done nothing but let matters take whatever course wasdestined for them. If only he could be sure that it was the bettercourse, perhaps he wouldn't feel that nagging sense of guilt insidehim. Strange—where, in his hermetic life, could he possibly havedeveloped such a queer thing as a conscience?     Then we've wasted all this time, Ninian sobbed, all this energy, allthis money, for nothing!     But you were nothing to begin with, Martin told them. And then,after a pause, he added, I only wish I could be sure there had beensome purpose to this.     He didn't know whether it was approaching death that dimmed his sight,or whether the frightened crowd that pressed around him was growingshadowy.     I wish I could feel that some good had been done in letting you bewiped out of existence, he went on voicing his thoughts. But I knowthat the same thing that happened to your worlds and my world willhappen all over again. To other people, in other times, but again. It'sbound to happen. There isn't any hope for humanity.     One man couldn't really change the course of human history, he toldhimself. Two men, that was—one real, one a shadow.     Conrad came close to the old man's bed. He was almost transparent.     No, he said, there is hope. They didn't know the time transmitterworks two ways. I used it for going into the past only once—just thisonce. But I've gone into the future with it many times. And— hepressed Martin's hand—believe me, what I did—what      we     did, you andI—serves a purpose. It will change things for the better. Everythingis going to be all right.  <doc-sep>   THE FROZEN PLANET     By Keith Laumer     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      It is rather unusual, Magnan said, to assign an officer of your rankto courier duty, but this is an unusual mission.     Retief sat relaxed and said nothing. Just before the silence grewawkward, Magnan went on.     There are four planets in the group, he said. Two double planets,all rather close to an unimportant star listed as DRI-G 33987. They'recalled Jorgensen's Worlds, and in themselves are of no importancewhatever. However, they lie deep in the sector into which the Soettihave been penetrating.     Now— Magnan leaned forward and lowered his voice—we have learnedthat the Soetti plan a bold step forward. Since they've met noopposition so far in their infiltration of Terrestrial space, theyintend to seize Jorgensen's Worlds by force.     Magnan leaned back, waiting for Retief's reaction. Retief drewcarefully on his cigar and looked at Magnan. Magnan frowned.     This is open aggression, Retief, he said, in case I haven't mademyself clear. Aggression on Terrestrial-occupied territory by an alienspecies. Obviously, we can't allow it.     Magnan drew a large folder from his desk.     A show of resistance at this point is necessary. Unfortunately,Jorgensen's Worlds are technologically undeveloped areas. They'refarmers or traders. Their industry is limited to a minor role intheir economy—enough to support the merchant fleet, no more. The warpotential, by conventional standards, is nil.     Magnan tapped the folder before him.     I have here, he said solemnly, information which will change thatpicture completely. He leaned back and blinked at Retief.  <doc-sep>  Any problem posed by one group ofhuman beings can be resolved by anyother group. That's what the Handbooksaid. But did that include primitivehumans? Or the Bees? Or a ...     CONTROL GROUP     By ROGER DEE  <doc-sep>Sometimes the men seemed to speak together, or one would rise to peerdown the misty forest vistas, but mostly they were motionless. Onlythe hooded figure, which they seemed to regard with a mingled wonderand fear, swayed incessantly to the rhythm of some unheard chant.     The Time Bubble has been brought to rest in one of the barbariccultures of the Dawn Era, a soft voice explained, so casually thatJoggy looked around for the speaker, until Hal nudged him sharply,whispering with barely perceptible embarrassment: Don't do that,Joggy. It's just the electronic interpreter. It senses our developmentand hears our questions and then it automats background and answers.But it's no more alive than an adolescer or a kinderobot. Got a billionmicrotapes, though.     The interpreter continued: The skin-clad men we are viewing in Timein the Round seem to be a group of warriors of the sort who livedby pillage and rapine. The hooded figure is a most unusual find. Webelieve it to be that of a sorcerer who pretended to control the forcesof nature and see into the future.     Joggy whispered: How is it that we can't see the audience through theother side of the bubble? We can see through this side, all right.     The bubble only shines light out, Hal told him hurriedly, to show heknew some things as well as the interpreter. Nothing, not even light,can get into the bubble from outside. The audience on the other side ofthe bubble sees into it just as we do, only they're seeing the otherway—for instance, they can't see the fire because the tree is in theway. And instead of seeing us beyond, they see more trees and sky.     Joggy nodded. You mean that whatever way you look at the bubble, it'sa kind of hole through time?     That's right. Hal cleared his throat and recited: The bubble is thelocus of an infinite number of one-way holes, all centering around twopoints in space-time, one now and one then. The bubble looks completelyopen, but if you tried to step inside, you'd be stopped—and so wouldan atom beam. It takes more energy than an atom beam just to maintainthe bubble, let alone maneuver it.     I see, I guess, Joggy whispered. But if the hole works for light,why can't the people inside the bubble step out of it into our world?     Why—er—you see, Joggy—     The interpreter took over. The holes are one-way for light, but no-wayfor matter. If one of the individuals inside the bubble walked towardyou, he would cross-section and disappear. But to the audience on theopposite side of the bubble, it would be obvious that he had walkedaway along the vista down which they are peering.  <doc-sep>He leaned back in his chair and began to talk in a low voice completelyin contrast with the overbearing manner he had used upon Peter'sarrival. You know what we make, of course.     Yes, sir. Conduit fittings.     And a lot of other electrical products, too. I started out in thisbusiness twenty years ago, using orthodox techniques. I never gotthrough university. I took a couple of years of an arts course, andgot so interested in biology that I didn't study anything else.They bounced me out of the course, and I re-entered in engineering,determined not to make the same mistake again. But I did. I got tooabsorbed in those parts of the course that had to do with electricaltheory and lost the rest as a result. The same thing happened when Itried commerce, with accounting, so I gave up and started working forone of my competitors. It wasn't too long before I saw that the onlyway I could get ahead was to open up on my own.     Lexington sank deeper in his chair and stared at the ceiling as hespoke. I put myself in hock to the eyeballs, which wasn't easy,because I had just got married, and started off in a very small way.After three years, I had a fairly decent little business going, and Isuppose it would have grown just like any other business, except fora strike that came along and put me right back where I started. Mywife, whom I'm afraid I had neglected for the sake of the business,was killed in a car accident about then, and rightly or wrongly, thatmade me angrier with the union than anything else. If the union hadn'tmade things so tough for me from the beginning, I'd have had more timeto spend with my wife before her death. As things turned out—well, Iremember looking down at her coffin and thinking that I hardly knew thegirl.     For the next few years, I concentrated on getting rid of as manyemployees as I could, by replacing them with automatic machines. I'ddesign the control circuits myself, in many cases wire the things upmyself, always concentrating on replacing men with machines. But itwasn't very successful. I found that the more automatic I made myplant, the lower my costs went. The lower my costs went, the morebusiness I got, and the more I had to expand.     Lexington scowled. I got sick of it. I decided to try developing onemulti-purpose control circuit that would control everything, fromordering the raw materials to shipping the finished goods. As I toldyou, I had taken quite an interest in biology when I was in school,and from studies of nerve tissue in particular, plus my electricalknowledge, I had a few ideas on how to do it. It took me three years,but I began to see that I could develop circuitry that could remember,compare, detect similarities, and so on. Not the way they do it today,of course. To do what I wanted to do with these big clumsy magneticdrums, tapes, and what-not, you'd need a building the size of MountEverest. But I found that I could let organic chemistry do most of thework for me.     By creating the proper compounds, with their molecules arranged inpredetermined matrixes, I found I could duplicate electrical circuitryin units so tiny that my biggest problem was getting into and out ofthe logic units with conventional wiring. I finally beat that the sameway they solved the problem of translating a picture on a screen intoelectrical signals, developed equipment to scan the units cyclically,and once I'd done that, the battle was over.     I built this building and incorporated it as a separate company, tocompete with my first outfit. In the beginning, I had it rigged up todo only the manual work that you saw being done a few minutes ago inthe back of this place. I figured that the best thing for me to dowould be to turn the job of selling my stuff over to jobbers, leavingme free to do nothing except receive orders, punch the cataloguenumbers into the control console, do the billing, and collect themoney.     What happened to your original company? Peter asked.  <doc-sep>  There was a knock.     Betty bounced up with Olympicagility and had the door swingingwide before the knocking was quitecompleted.     He was old, little and had bugeyes behind pince-nez glasses. Hissuit was cut in the style of yesteryearbut when a suit costs two orthree hundred dollars you still retaincaste whatever the styling.     Simon said unenthusiastically,Good morning, Mr. Oyster. He indicatedthe client's chair. Sit down,sir.     The client fussed himself withBetty's assistance into the seat, bug-eyedSimon, said finally, You knowmy name, that's pretty good. Neversaw you before in my life. Stop fussingwith me, young lady. Your adin the phone book says you'll investigateanything.     Anything, Simon said. Onlyone exception.     Excellent. Do you believe in timetravel?     Simon said nothing. Across theroom, where she had resumed herseat, Betty cleared her throat. WhenSimon continued to say nothing sheventured, Time travel is impossible.     Why?     Why?     Yes, why?     Betty looked to her boss for assistance.None was forthcoming. Thereought to be some very quick, positive,definite answer. She said, Well,for one thing, paradox. Suppose youhad a time machine and traveled backa hundred years or so and killed yourown great-grandfather. Then howcould you ever be born?     Confound it if I know, the littlefellow growled. How?     Simon said, Let's get to the point,what you wanted to see me about.     I want to hire you to hunt me upsome time travelers, the old boysaid.     Betty was too far in now to maintainher proper role of silent secretary.Time travelers, she said, notvery intelligently.     The potential client sat more erect,obviously with intent to hold thefloor for a time. He removed thepince-nez glasses and pointed themat Betty. He said, Have you readmuch science fiction, Miss?     Some, Betty admitted.     Then you'll realize that there area dozen explanations of the paradoxesof time travel. Every writer inthe field worth his salt has explainedthem away. But to get on. It's mycontention that within a century orso man will have solved the problemsof immortality and eternal youth, andit's also my suspicion that he willeventually be able to travel in time.So convinced am I of these possibilitiesthat I am willing to gamble aportion of my fortune to investigatethe presence in our era of such timetravelers.     Simon seemed incapable of carryingthe ball this morning, so Bettysaid, But ... Mr. Oyster, if thefuture has developed time travel whydon't we ever meet such travelers?     Simon put in a word. The usualexplanation, Betty, is that they can'tafford to allow the space-time continuumtrack to be altered. If, say, atime traveler returned to a period oftwenty-five years ago and shot Hitler,then all subsequent history would bechanged. In that case, the time travelerhimself might never be born. Theyhave to tread mighty carefully.     Mr. Oyster was pleased. I didn'texpect you to be so well informedon the subject, young man.     Simon shrugged and fumbledagain with the aspirin bottle. <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the role of Farrell in the story CONTROL GROUP and how does his character develop?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What are the defining traits of Stryker in CONTROL GROUP? [SEP] <s>  The  cool green disk of AlphardSix on the screen wasinfinitely welcome after the ariddesolation and stinking swamplandsof the inner planets, anairy jewel of a world that mighthave been designed specificallyfor the hard-earned month ofrest ahead. Navigator Farrell,youngest and certainly most impulsiveof the three-man TerranReclamations crew, would haveset the      Marco Four     down atonce but for the greater cautionof Stryker, nominally captain ofthe group, and of Gibson, engineer,and linguist. Xavier, theship's little mechanical, had—aswas usual and proper—no voicein the matter.     Reconnaissance spiral first,Arthur, Stryker said firmly. Hechuckled at Farrell's instantscowl, his little eyes twinklingand his naked paunch quakingover the belt of his shipboardshorts. Chapter One, SubsectionFive, Paragraph Twenty-seven:      No planetfall on an unreclaimedworld shall be deemedsafe without proper—          Farrell, as Stryker had expected,interrupted with characteristicimpatience. Do you      sleep     with that damned ReclamationsHandbook, Lee? Alphard Sixisn't an unreclaimed world—itwas never colonized before theHymenop invasion back in 3025,so why should it be inhabitednow?     Gibson, who for four hourshad not looked up from his interminablechess game withXavier, paused with a beleagueredknight in one blunt brownhand.     No point in taking chances,Gibson said in his neutral baritone.He shrugged thick bareshoulders, his humorless black-browedface unmoved, whenFarrell included him in hisscowl. We're two hundred twenty-sixlight-years from Sol, atthe old limits of Terran expansion,and there's no knowingwhat we may turn up here. Alphard'swas one of the first systemsthe Bees took over. It musthave been one of the last to beabandoned when they pulled backto 70 Ophiuchi.     And I think      you     live for theday, Farrell said acidly, whenwe'll stumble across a functioningdome of live, buzzing Hymenops.Damn it, Gib, the Beespulled out a hundred years ago,before you and I were born—neitherof us ever saw a Hymenop,and never will!     But I saw them, Strykersaid. I fought them for the betterpart of the century they werehere, and I learned there's nopredicting nor understandingthem. We never knew why theycame nor why they gave up andleft. How can we know whetherthey'd leave a rear-guard orbooby trap here?     He put a paternal hand onFarrell's shoulder, understandingthe younger man's eagernessand knowing that their close-knitteam would have been themore poorly balanced without it.     Gib's right, he said. Henearly added      as usual     . We're onrest leave at the moment, yes,but our mission is still to findTerran colonies enslaved andabandoned by the Bees, not torisk our necks and a valuableReorientations ship by landingblind on an unobserved planet.We're too close already. Cut inyour shields and find a reconnaissancespiral, will you?     Grumbling, Farrell punchedcoordinates on the Ringwaveboard that lifted the      Marco Four     out of her descent and restoredthe bluish enveloping haze ofher repellors.     Stryker's caution was justifiedon the instant. The speedingstreamlined shape that had flashedup unobserved from belowswerved sharply and exploded ina cataclysmic blaze of atomicfire that rocked the ship wildlyand flung the three men to thefloor in a jangling roar ofalarms.      So the Handbook tacticiansknew what they were about,Stryker said minutes later. Deliberatelyhe adopted the smugtone best calculated to sting Farrellout of his first self-reproach,and grinned when the navigatorbristled defensively. Some oftheir enjoinders seem a littlestuffy and obvious at times, butthey're eminently sensible.     When Farrell refused to bebaited Stryker turned to Gibson,who was busily assessing thedamage done to the ship's morefragile equipment, and to Xavier,who searched the planet'ssurface with the ship's magnoscanner.The      Marco Four     , Ringwavegenerators humming gently,hung at the moment justinside the orbit of Alphard Six'ssingle dun-colored moon.     Gibson put down a test meterwith an air of finality.     Nothing damaged but theZero Interval Transfer computer.I can realign that in a coupleof hours, but it'll have to bedone before we hit Transferagain.      Stryker looked dubious.What if the issue is forced beforethe ZIT unit is repaired?Suppose they come up after us?     I doubt that they can. Anyinstallation crudely enoughequipped to trust in guided missilesis hardly likely to have developedefficient space craft.     Stryker was not reassured.     That torpedo of theirs wasdeadly enough, he said. Andits nature reflects the nature ofthe people who made it. Any racevicious enough to use atomiccharges is too dangerous totrifle with. Worry made comicalcreases in his fat, good-humoredface. We'll have to findout who they are and whythey're here, you know.     They can't be Hymenops,Gibson said promptly. First,because the Bees pinned theirfaith on Ringwave energy fields,as we did, rather than on missiles.Second, because there's nodome on Six.     There were three emptydomes on Five, which is a desertplanet, Farrell pointed out.Why didn't they settle Six? It'sa more habitable world.     Gibson shrugged. I know theBees always erected domes onevery planet they colonized, Arthur,but precedent is a fallibletool. And it's even more firmlyestablished that there's no possibilityof our rationalizing themotivations of a culture as alienas the Hymenops'—we've beenover that argument a hundredtimes on other reclaimedworlds.     But this was never an unreclaimedworld, Farrell saidwith the faint malice of one toorecently caught in the wrong.Alphard Six was surveyed andseeded with Terran bacteriaaround the year 3000, but theBees invaded before we couldcolonize. And that means we'llhave to rule out any resurgentcolonial group down there, becauseSix never had a colony inthe beginning.     The Bees have been gone forover a hundred years, Strykersaid. Colonists might have migratedfrom another Terran-occupiedplanet.     Gibson disagreed.     We've touched at every inhabitedworld in this sector, Lee,and not one surviving colony hasdeveloped space travel on itsown. The Hymenops had a hundredyears to condition their humanslaves to ignorance ofeverything beyond their immediateenvironment—the motivesbehind that conditioning usuallyescape us, but that's beside thepoint—and they did a thoroughjob of it. The colonists have hadno more than a century of freedomsince the Bees pulled out,and four generations simplyisn't enough time for any subjugatedculture to climb fromslavery to interstellar flight.     Stryker made a padding turnabout the control room, tuggingunhappily at the scanty fringeof hair the years had left him.     If they're neither Hymenopsnor resurgent colonists, he said,then there's only one choice remaining—they'realiens from asystem we haven't reached yet,beyond the old sphere of Terranexploration. We always assumedthat we'd find other races outhere someday, and that they'dbe as different from us in formand motivation as the Hymenops.Why not now?     Gibson said seriously, Notprobable, Lee. The same objectionthat rules out the Bees appliesto any trans-Alphardianculture—they'd have to be beyondthe atomic fission stage,else they'd never have attemptedinterstellar flight. The Ringwavewith its Zero Interval Transferprinciple and instantaneous communicationsapplications is theonly answer to long-range travel,and if they'd had that theywouldn't have bothered withatomics.     Stryker turned on him almostangrily. If they're not Hymenopsor humans or aliens, thenwhat in God's name      are     they?      Aye, there's the rub, Farrellsaid, quoting a passagewhose aptness had somehow seenit through a dozen reorganizationsof insular tongue and afinal translation to universalTerran. If they're none of thosethree, we've only one conclusionleft. There's no one down thereat all—we're victims of the firstjoint hallucination in psychiatrichistory.     Stryker threw up his hands insurrender. We can't identifythem by theorizing, and thatbrings us down to the businessof first-hand investigation.Who's going to bell the cat thistime?     I'd like to go, Gibson saidat once. The ZIT computer canwait.     Stryker vetoed his offer aspromptly. No, the ZIT comesfirst. We may have to run for it,and we can't set up a Transferjump without the computer. It'sgot to be me or Arthur.     Farrell felt the familiar chillof uneasiness that inevitablypreceded this moment of decision.He was not lacking in courage,else the circumstances underwhich he had worked for thepast ten years—the sometimesperilous, sometimes downrightcharnel conditions left by thefleeing Hymenop conquerors—wouldhave broken him longago. But that same hard experiencehad honed rather thanblunted the edge of his imagination,and the prospect of a close-quartersstalking of an unknownand patently hostile force wasanything but attractive.     You two did the field workon the last location, he said.It's high time I took my turn—andGod knows I'd go mad ifI had to stay inship and listento Lee memorizing his Handbooksubsections or to Gib practicingdead languages with Xavier.     Stryker laughed for the firsttime since the explosion thathad so nearly wrecked the      MarcoFour     .     Good enough. Though itwouldn't be more diverting tolisten for hours to you improvisingenharmonic variations onthe      Lament for Old Terra     withyour accordion.     Gibson, characteristically, hada refinement to offer.     They'll be alerted down therefor a reconnaissance sally, hesaid. Why not let Xavier takethe scouter down for overt diversion,and drop Arthur off inthe helihopper for a low-levelcheck?     Stryker looked at Farrell. Allright, Arthur?     Good enough, Farrell said.And to Xavier, who had notmoved from his post at the magnoscanner:How does it look,Xav? Have you pinned downtheir base yet?     The mechanical answered himin a voice as smooth and clear—andas inflectionless—as a 'cellonote. The planet seems uninhabitedexcept for a large islandsome three hundred miles indiameter. There are twenty-sevensmall agrarian hamlets surroundedby cultivated fields.There is one city of perhaps athousand buildings with a centralsquare. In the square restsa grounded spaceship of approximatelyten times the bulkof the      Marco Four     .     They crowded about the visionscreen, jostling Xavier's jointedgray shape in their interest. Thecentral city lay in minutest detailbefore them, the batteredhulk of the grounded ship glintingrustily in the late afternoonsunlight. Streets radiated awayfrom the square in orderly succession,the whole so clearlydepicted that they could see thethrongs of people surging upand down, tiny foreshortenedfaces turned toward the sky.     At least they're human,Farrell said. Relief replaced insome measure his earlier uneasiness.Which means that they'reTerran, and can be dealt withaccording to Reclamations routine.Is that hulk spaceworthy,Xav?     Xavier's mellow drone assumedthe convention vibrato thatindicated stark puzzlement. Itsbreached hull makes the ship incapableof flight. Apparently itis used only to supply power tothe outlying hamlets.     The mechanical put a flexiblegray finger upon an indicatorgraph derived from a compositesection of detector meters. Thepower transmitted seems to begross electric current conveyedby metallic cables. It is generatedthrough a crudely governedprocess of continuous atomicfission.      Farrell, himself appalled bythe information, still found himselfable to chuckle at Stryker'sbellow of consternation.           Continuous fission?     GoodGod, only madmen would deliberatelyrun a risk like that!     Farrell prodded him withcheerful malice. Why say mad      men     ? Maybe they're humanoidaliens who thrive on hard radiationand look on the danger ofbeing blown to hell in the middleof the night as a satisfactoryrisk.     They're not alien, Gibsonsaid positively. Their architectureis Terran, and so is theirship. The ship is incrediblyprimitive, though; those batteriesof tubes at either end—     Are thrust reaction jets,Stryker finished in an awedvoice. Primitive isn't the word,Gib—the thing is prehistoric!Rocket propulsion hasn't beenused in spacecraft since—howlong, Xav?     Xavier supplied the informationwith mechanical infallibility.Since the year 2100 whenthe Ringwave propulsion-communicationprinciple was discovered.That principle has servedmen since.     Farrell stared in blank disbeliefat the anomalous craft onthe screen. Primitive, as Strykerhad said, was not the wordfor it: clumsily ovoid, studdedwith torpedo domes and turretsand bristling at either end withpropulsion tubes, it lay at thecenter of its square like a rustedrelic of a past largely destroyedand all but forgotten. What amagnificent disregard its buildersmust have had, he thought,for their lives and the geneticpurity of their posterity! Thesullen atomic fires banked inthat oxidizing hulk—     Stryker said plaintively, Ifyou're right, Gib, then we'remore in the dark than ever. Howcould a Terran-built ship elevenhundred years old get      here     ?     Gibson, absorbed in his chess-player'scontemplation of alternatives,seemed hardly to hearhim.     Logic or not-logic, Gibsonsaid. If it's a Terran artifact,we can discover the reason forits presence. If not—           Any problem posed by onegroup of human beings     , Strykerquoted his Handbook,       can beresolved by any other group, regardlessof ideology or conditioning,because the basicperceptive abilities of both mustbe the same through identicalheredity     .     If it's an imitation, and thisis another Hymenop experimentin condition ecology, then we'restumped to begin with, Gibsonfinished. Because we're notequipped to evaluate the psychologyof alien motivation. We'vegot to determine first which caseapplies here.      He waited for Farrell's expectedirony, and when thenavigator forestalled him by remaininggrimly quiet, continued.     The obvious premise is thata Terran ship must have beenbuilt by Terrans. Question: Wasit flown here, or built here?     It couldn't have been builthere, Stryker said. AlphardSix was surveyed just before theBees took over in 3025, and therewas nothing of the sort herethen. It couldn't have been builtduring the two and a quartercenturies since; it's obviouslymuch older than that. It wasflown here.     We progress, Farrell saiddryly. Now if you'll tell us      how     ,we're ready to move.     I think the ship was built onTerra during the Twenty-secondCentury, Gibson said calmly.The atomic wars during thatperiod destroyed practically allhistorical records along with thetechnology of the time, but I'veread well-authenticated reportsof atomic-driven ships leavingTerra before then for the nearerstars. The human race climbedout of its pit again during theTwenty-third Century and developedthe technology that gaveus the Ringwave. Certainly noatomic-powered ships were builtafter the wars—our records arecomplete from that time.     Farrell shook his head at theinference. I've read any numberof fanciful romances on thetheme, Gib, but it won't standup in practice. No shipboard societycould last through a thousand-yearspace voyage. It's aphysical and psychological impossibility.There's got to besome other explanation.      Gibson shrugged. We canonly eliminate the least likelyalternatives and accept the simplestone remaining.     Then we can eliminate thisone now, Farrell said flatly. Itentails a thousand-year voyage,which is an impossibility for anygross reaction drive; the applicationof suspended animationor longevity or a successive-generationprogram, and a finalpenetration of Hymenop-occupiedspace to set up a colony underthe very antennae of theBees. Longevity wasn't developeduntil around the year 3000—Leehere was one of the first toprofit by it, if you remember—andsuspended animation is stillto come. So there's one theoryyou can forget.     Arthur's right, Stryker saidreluctantly. An atomic-poweredship      couldn't     have made such atrip, Gib. And such a lineal-descendantproject couldn't havelasted through forty generations,speculative fiction to thecontrary—the later generationswould have been too far removedin ideology and intent fromtheir ancestors. They'd haveadapted to shipboard life as thenorm. They'd have atrophiedphysically, perhaps even havemutated—     And they'd never havefought past the Bees during theHymenop invasion and occupation,Farrell finished triumphantly.The Bees had betterdetection equipment than wehad. They'd have picked thisship up long before it reachedAlphard Six.     But the ship wasn't here in3000, Gibson said, and it isnow. Therefore it must have arrivedat some time during thetwo hundred years of Hymenopoccupation and evacuation.     Farrell, tangled in contradictions,swore bitterly. Butwhy should the Bees let themthrough? The three domes onFive are over two hundred yearsold, which means that the Beeswere here before the ship came.Why didn't they blast it or enslaveits crew?     We haven't touched on all thepossibilities, Gibson remindedhim. We haven't even establishedyet that these people werenever under Hymenop control.Precedent won't hold always, andthere's no predicting nor evaluatingthe motives of an alienrace. We never understood theHymenops because there's nocommon ground of logic betweenus. Why try to interpret theirintentions now?     Farrell threw up his hands indisgust. Next you'll say this isan ancient Terran expeditionthat actually succeeded! There'sonly one way to answer thequestions we've raised, andthat's to go down and see forourselves. Ready, Xav?      But uncertainty nagged uneasilyat him when Farrell foundhimself alone in the helihopperwith the forest flowing beneathlike a leafy river and Xavier'sscouter disappearing bulletlikeinto the dusk ahead.     We never found a colony soadvanced, Farrell thought. Supposethis is a Hymenop experimentthat really paid off? TheBees did some weird and wonderfulthings with humanguinea pigs—what if they'vecreated the ultimate booby traphere, and primed it with conditionedmyrmidons in our ownform?     Suppose, he thought—and deridedhimself for thinking it—oneof those suicidal old interstellarventures      did     succeed?     Xavier's voice, a mellowdrone from the helihopper'sRingwave-powered visicom, cutsharply into his musing. Theship has discovered the scouterand is training an electronicbeam upon it. My instrumentsrecord an electromagnetic vibrationpattern of low power butrapidly varying frequency. Theoperation seems pointless.     Stryker's voice followed, querulouswith worry: I'd betterpull Xav back. It may be somethinglethal.     Don't, Gibson's baritone advised.Surprisingly, there wasexcitement in the engineer'svoice. I think they're trying tocommunicate with us.     Farrell was on the point ofdemanding acidly to know howone went about communicatingby means of a fluctuating electricfield when the unexpectedcessation of forest diverted hisattention. The helihopper scuddedover a cultivated areaof considerable extent, fieldsstretching below in a vague randomcheckerboard of lighter anddarker earth, an undefined clusterof buildings at their center.There was a central bonfire thatburned like a wild red eyeagainst the lower gloom, and inits plunging ruddy glow he madeout an urgent scurrying of shadowyfigures.     I'm passing over a hamlet,Farrell reported. The one nearestthe city, I think. There'ssomething odd going ondown—     Catastrophe struck so suddenlythat he was caught completelyunprepared. The helihopper'sflimsy carriage bucked andcrumpled. There was a blindingflare of electric discharge, apungent stink of ozone and astunning shock that flung himheadlong into darkness.      He awoke slowly with a brutalheadache and a conviction ofnightmare heightened by theoutlandish tone of his surroundings.He lay on a narrow bed ina whitely antiseptic infirmary,an oblong metal cell clutteredwith a grimly utilitarian arrayof tables and lockers and chests.The lighting was harsh andoverbright and the air hungthick with pungent unfamiliarchemical odors. From somewhere,far off yet at the sametime as near as the bulkheadabove him, came the unceasingdrone of machinery.     Farrell sat up, groaning,when full consciousness made hisposition clear. He had been shotdown by God knew what sort ofdevastating unorthodox weaponand was a prisoner in thegrounded ship.     At his rising, a white-smockedfat man with anachronistic spectaclesand close-cropped grayhair came into the room, movingwith the professional assuranceof a medic. The man stoppedshort at Farrell's stare andspoke; his words were utterlyunintelligible, but his gesturewas unmistakable.     Farrell followed him dumblyout of the infirmary and downa bare corridor whose metalfloor rang coldly underfoot. Anopen port near the corridor's endrelieved the blankness of walland let in a flood of reddish Alphardiansunlight; Farrell slowedto look out, wondering howlong he had lain unconscious,and felt panic knife at himwhen he saw Xavier's scouter lying,port open and undefended,on the square outside.     The mechanical had been aseasily taken as himself, then.Stryker and Gibson, for all theirprofessional caution, would fareno better—they could not haveoverlooked the capture of Farrelland Xavier, and when theytried as a matter of course torescue them the      Marco     would bestruck down in turn by the sameweapon.     The fat medic turned andsaid something urgent in hisunintelligible tongue. Farrell,dazed by the enormity of whathad happened, followed withoutprotest into an intersecting waythat led through a bewilderingsuccession of storage rooms andhydroponics gardens, through asmall gymnasium fitted withphysical training equipment ingraduated sizes and finally intoa soundproofed place that couldhave been nothing but a nursery.     The implication behind itspresence stopped Farrell short.     A      creche     , he said, stunned.He had a wild vision of endlessgenerations of children growingup in this dim and stuffy room,to be taught from their firsttoddling steps the functions theymust fulfill before the ventureof which they were a part couldbe consummated.     One of those old ventures      had     succeeded, he thought, and wasawed by the daring of that thousand-yearodyssey. The realizationleft him more alarmed thanbefore—for what technical marvelsmight not an isolated groupof such dogged specialists havedeveloped during a millenniumof application?     Such a weapon as had broughtdown the helihopper and scouterwas patently beyond reach of hisown latter-day technology. Perhaps,he thought, its possessionexplained the presence of thesepeople here in the first strongholdof the Hymenops; perhapsthey had even fought and defeatedthe Bees on their own invadedground.     He followed his white-smockedguide through a power roomwhere great crude generatorswhirred ponderously, pouringout gross electric current intoarm-thick cables. They werenearing the bow of the shipwhen they passed by anotheropen port and Farrell, glancingout over the lowered rampway,saw that his fears for Strykerand Gibson had been wellgrounded.     The      Marco Four     , ports open,lay grounded outside.      Farrell could not have said,later, whether his next movewas planned or reflexive. Thewhole desperate issue seemed tohang suspended for a breathlessmoment upon a hair-fine edge ofdecision, and in that instant hemade his bid.     Without pausing in his stridehe sprang out and through theport and down the steep planeof the ramp. The rough stonepavement of the square drummedunderfoot; sore musclestore at him, and weakness waslike a weight about his neck. Heexpected momentarily to beblasted out of existence.     He reached the      Marco Four     with the startled shouts of hisguide ringing unintelligibly inhis ears. The port yawned; heplunged inside and stabbed atcontrols without waiting to seathimself. The ports swung shut.The ship darted up under hismanipulation and arrowed intospace with an acceleration thatsprung his knees and made hisvision swim blackly.     He was so weak with strainand with the success of his coupthat he all but fainted whenStryker, his scanty hair tousledand his fat face comical with bewilderment,stumbled out of hissleeping cubicle and bellowed athim.     What the hell are you doing,Arthur? Take us down!     Farrell gaped at him, speechless.     Stryker lumbered past himand took the controls, spiralingthe      Marco Four     down. Menswarmed outside the ports whenthe Reclamations craft settledgently to the square again. Gibsonand Xavier reached the shipfirst; Gibson came inside quickly,leaving the mechanical outsidemaking patient explanationsto an excited group of Alphardians.     Gibson put a reassuring handon Farrell's arm. It's all right,Arthur. There's no trouble.     Farrell said dumbly, I don'tunderstand. They didn't shootyou and Xav down too?     It was Gibson's turn to stare.     No one shot you down! Thesepeople are primitive enough touse metallic power lines tocarry electricity to their hamlets,an anachronism you forgotlast night. You piloted the helihopperinto one of those lines,and the crash put you out forthe rest of the night and mostof today. These Alphardians arefriendly, so desperately happy tobe found again that it's reallypathetic.           Friendly?     That torpedo—     It wasn't a torpedo at all,Stryker put in. Understandingof the error under which Farrellhad labored erased hisearlier irritation, and he chuckledcommiseratingly. They hadone small boat left for emergencymissions, and sent it up tocontact us in the fear that wemight overlook their settlementand move on. The boat wasatomic powered, and our shieldscreens set off its engines.     Farrell dropped into a chair atthe chart table, limp with reaction.He was suddenly exhausted,and his head ached dully.     We cracked the communicationsproblem early last night,Gibson said. These people usean ancient system of electromagneticwave propagation calledfrequency modulation, and onceLee and I rigged up a suitabletransceiver the rest was simple.Both Xav and I recognized theold language; the natives reportedyour accident, and we camedown at once.     They really came from Terra?They lived through a thousandyears of flight?     The ship left Terra forSirius in 2171, Gibson said.But not with these peopleaboard, or their ancestors. Thatexpedition perished after lessthan a light-year when itshydroponics system failed. TheHymenops found the ship derelictwhen they invaded us, andbrought it to Alphard Six inwhat was probably their first experimentwith human subjects.The ship's log shows clearlywhat happened to the originalcomplement. The rest is deduciblefrom the situation here.     Farrell put his hands to histemples and groaned. The crashmust have scrambled my wits.Gib, where      did     they come from?     From one of the first peripheralcolonies conquered by theBees, Gibson said patiently.The Hymenops were long-rangeplanners, remember, and mastersof hypnotic conditioning. Theystocked the ship with a captivecrew of Terrans conditioned tobelieve themselves descendantsof the original crew, andgrounded it here in disabledcondition. They left for AlphardFive then, to watch developments.     Succeeding generations ofcolonists grew up accepting thefact that their ship had missedSirius and made planetfall here—theystill don't know wherethey really are—by luck. Theynever knew about the Hymenops,and they've struggled alongwith an inadequate technology inthe hope that a later expeditionwould find them. They found thetruth hard to take, but they'reeager to enjoy the fruits of Terranassimilation.     Stryker, grinning, broughtFarrell a frosted drink that tinkledinvitingly. An unusuallyfortunate ending to a Hymenopexperiment, he said. Thesepeople progressed normally becausethey've been let alone. Reorientingthem will be a simplematter; they'll be properly spoiledcolonists within another generation.     Farrell sipped his drink appreciatively.     But I don't see why the Beesshould go to such trouble to deceivethese people. Why did theysit back and let them grow asthey pleased, Gib? It doesn'tmake sense!     But it does, for once, Gibsonsaid. The Bees set up thiscolony as a control unit to studythe species they were invading,and they had to give theirspecimens a normal—if obsolete—backgroundin order to determinetheir capabilities. The factthat their experiment didn't tellthem what they wanted to knowmay have had a direct bearingon their decision to pull out.     Farrell shook his head. It'sa reverse application, isn't it ofthe old saw about Terrans beingincapable of understanding analien culture?     Of course, said Gibson, surprised.It's obvious enough,surely—hard as they tried, theBees never understood useither.     THE END     Transcriber's Note:    This etext was produced from    Amazing Science Fiction Stories   January1960. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling andtypographical errors have been corrected without note.<doc-sep>For more than a century, robotocists have been trying to build Asimov'sfamous Three Laws of Robotics into a robot brain.       First Law: A robot shall not, either through action or inaction, allowharm to come to a human being.         Second Law: A robot shall obey the orders of a human being, exceptwhen such orders conflict with the First Law     .     [15]       Third Law: A robot shall strive to protect its own existence, exceptwhen this conflicts with the First or Second Law.       Nobody has succeeded yet, because nobody has yet succeeded in definingthe term human being in such a way that the logical mind of a robotcan encompass the concept.     A traffic robot is useful only because the definition has been rigidlynarrowed down. As far as a traffic robot is concerned, human beingsare the automobiles on its highways. Woe betide any poor sap who tries,illegally, to cross a robot-controlled highway on foot. The robot'sonly concern would be with the safety of the automobiles, and if theonly way to avoid destruction of an automobile were to be by nudgingthe pedestrian aside with a fender, that's what would happen.     And, since its orders only come from one place, I suppose that atraffic robot thinks that the guy who uses that typer is an automobile.     With the first six models of the McGuire ships, the robotocistsattempted to build in the Three Laws exactly as stated. And the firstsix went insane.     If one human being says jump left, and another says jump right,the robot is unable to evaluate which human being has given the morevalid order. Feed enough confusing and conflicting data into a robotbrain, and it can begin behaving in ways that, in a human being, wouldbe called paranoia or schizophrenia or catatonia or what-have-you,depending  [16]  on the symptoms. And an insane robot is fully as dangerousas an insane human being controlling the same mechanical equipment, ifnot more so.     So the seventh model had been modified. The present McGuire's brain wasimpressed with slight modifications of the First and Second Laws.     If it is difficult to define a human being, it is much more difficultto define a      responsible     human being. One, in other words, who canbe relied upon to give wise and proper orders to a robot, who can berelied upon not to drive the robot insane.     The robotocists at Viking Spacecraft had decided to take anothertack. Very well, they'd said, if we can't define all the membersof a group, we can certainly define an individual. We'll pick oneresponsible person and build McGuire so that he will take orders onlyfrom that person.     As it turned out, I was that person. Just substitute Daniel Oakfor human being in the First and Second Laws, and you'll see howimportant I was to a certain spaceship named McGuire.  <doc-sep>III     Oh, yes, and Jamieson had a feeble paper on what he calledindividualization in marine worms. Barr, have you ever thought muchabout the larger aspects of the problem of individuality?     Jack jumped slightly. He had let his thoughts wander very far.     Not especially, sir, he mumbled.     The house was still. A few minutes after the professor's arrival,Mrs. Kesserich had gone off with an anxious glance at Jack. He knewwhy and wished he could reassure her that he would not mention theirconversation to the professor.     Kesserich had spent perhaps a half hour briefing him on the moreimportant papers delivered at the conferences. Then, almost as ifit were a teacher's trick to show up a pupil's inattention, he hadsuddenly posed this question about individuality.     You know what I mean, of course, Kesserich pressed. The factors thatmake you you, and me me.     Heredity and environment, Jack parroted like a freshman.     Kesserich nodded. Suppose—this is just speculation—that we couldcontrol heredity and environment. Then we could re-create the sameindividual at will.     Jack felt a shiver go through him. To get exactly the same pattern ofhereditary traits. That'd be far beyond us.     What about identical twins? Kesserich pointed out. And then there'sparthenogenesis to be considered. One might produce a duplicate of themother without the intervention of the male. Although his voice hadgrown more idly speculative, Kesserich seemed to Jack to be smilingsecretly. There are many examples in the lower animal forms, to saynothing of the technique by which Loeb caused a sea urchin to reproducewith no more stimulus than a salt solution.     Jack felt the hair rising on his neck. Even then you wouldn't getexactly the same pattern of hereditary traits.     Not if the parent were of very pure stock? Not if there were somespecial technique for selecting ova that would reproduce all themother's traits?     But environment would change things, Jack objected. The duplicatewould be bound to develop differently.     Is environment so important? Newman tells about a pair of identicaltwins separated from birth, unaware of each other's existence. They metby accident when they were twenty-one. Each was a telephone repairman.Each had a wife the same age. Each had a baby son. And each had a foxterrier called 'Trixie.' That's without trying to make environmentssimilar. But suppose you did try. Suppose you saw to it that each ofthem had exactly the same experiences at the same times....     For a moment it seemed to Jack that the room was dimming and wavering,becoming a dark pool in which the only motionless thing was Kesserich'ssphinx-like face.     Well, we've escaped quite far enough from Jamieson's marine worms,the biologist said, all brisk again. He said it as if Jack were theone who had led the conversation down wild and unprofitable channels.Let's get on to your project. I want to talk it over now, because Iwon't have any time for it tomorrow.     Jack looked at him blankly.     Tomorrow I must attend to a very important matter, the biologistexplained.  <doc-sep>  Any problem posed by one group ofhuman beings can be resolved by anyother group. That's what the Handbooksaid. But did that include primitivehumans? Or the Bees? Or a ...     CONTROL GROUP     By ROGER DEE  <doc-sep>   AIDE MEMOIRE     BY KEITH LAUMER     The Fustians looked like turtles—but     they could move fast when they chose!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Across the table from Retief, Ambassador Magnan rustled a stiff sheetof parchment and looked grave.     This aide memoire, he said, was just handed to me by the CulturalAttache. It's the third on the subject this week. It refers to thematter of sponsorship of Youth groups—     Some youths, Retief said. Average age, seventy-five.     The Fustians are a long-lived people, Magnan snapped. These mattersare relative. At seventy-five, a male Fustian is at a trying age—     That's right. He'll try anything—in the hope it will maim somebody.     Precisely the problem, Magnan said. But the Youth Movement isthe important news in today's political situation here on Fust. Andsponsorship of Youth groups is a shrewd stroke on the part of theTerrestrial Embassy. At my suggestion, well nigh every member of themission has leaped at the opportunity to score a few p—that is, cementrelations with this emergent power group—the leaders of the future.You, Retief, as Councillor, are the outstanding exception.     I'm not convinced these hoodlums need my help in organizing theirrumbles, Retief said. Now, if you have a proposal for a pest controlgroup—     To the Fustians this is no jesting matter, Magnan cut in. Thisgroup— he glanced at the paper—known as the Sexual, Cultural, andAthletic Recreational Society, or SCARS for short, has been awaitingsponsorship for a matter of weeks now.     Meaning they want someone to buy them a clubhouse, uniforms, equipmentand anything else they need to complete their sexual, cultural andathletic development, Retief said.     If we don't act promptly, Magnan said, the Groaci Embassy may wellanticipate us. They're very active here.     That's an idea, said Retief. Let 'em. After awhile they'll go brokeinstead of us.     Nonsense. The group requires a sponsor. I can't actually order you tostep forward. However.... Magnan let the sentence hang in the air.Retief raised one eyebrow.     For a minute there, he said, I thought you were going to make apositive statement.  <doc-sep>O'Rielly suddenly felt like turning her over his knee and whaling heruntil she couldn't sit for a year. This, mind you, he felt in an agewhere no Earth guy for a thousand years had dared raise so much as abreath against woman's supremacy in all matters. That male charactertrait, however, did not seem to be the overpowering reason whyO'Rielly, instead of laying violent hands upon this one's person, heardhimself saying in sympathetic outrage, A shame you had to go to allthat bother to get out here!     You're so kind. But I'm afraid I became rather sticky and smelly inthere.     They ought to cool the air in there with perfume! I'll drop asuggestion in the Old Woman's box first chance I get.     You're so thoughtful. And do you have bathing facilities?     That door right there. Oh, let me open it for you!     You're so sweet. Her big dark eyes glowed with such pure innocencethat O'Rielly could have torn down the universe and rebuilt it just forher.     Yes, ma'am, O'Rielly was floating on a pink cloud with heavenly musicin his head. Never felt so fine before. Except on the Venus layoverwhen he'd been roped into a dice game with a bunch of Venus lads whohad a jug to cheer one's parting with one's money.     A bell suddenly clanged fit to wake the dead while the overhead lightsflashed wildly. Only the watch room door. Only Callahan here now. Oldbuzzard had a drooped nose like a pick, chin like a shovel.     When he talked he was like digging a hole in front of himself. Well,what about that control?     What control?     Your fusion control that got itself two points low!     Oh, that little thing.     Callahan said something through his teeth, then studied O'Riellysharply. Hey, you been wetting your whistle on that Venus vino again?Lemme smell your breath! Bah. Loaded yourself full of chlorophyllagain probably. All right, stand aside whilst I see your burner.     Charmed to, Burner Chief Callahan, sir, O'Rielly said while bowinggracefully.     Higher than a swacked skunk's tail again, Callahan muttered, thensnapped back over his shoulder, Use your shower!     O'Rielly stood considering his shower door. Somehow he doubted thatBurner Chief Terrence Callahan's mood, or Captain Millicent Hatwoody's,would be improved by knowledge of she who was in O'Rielly's shower now.Not that the dear stowaway was less than charming. Quite the contrary.Oh, very quite!     You rockhead! Only Callahan back from the burner. Didn't I tell youto shower the stink off yourself? Old Woman's taking a Venus bigwigon tour the ship. Old Woman catches you like you been rassling skunksshe'll peel both our hides off. Not to mention what she'll do anywayabout your fusion control!     Burner Chief Callahan, sir, O'Rielly responded courteously, I havebeen thinking.     With what? Never mind, just keep on trying whilst I have a shower formyself here. Wherewith Callahan reached hand for O'Rielly's showerdoor.     Venus dames, O'Rielly said dreamily, don't boss anything, do they?     Callahan yelped like he'd been bit in the pants by a big Jupiter ant.O'Rielly! You trying to get both of us condemned to a Uranus moon?Callahan also shot a wild look to the intercom switch. It was in OFFposition; the flight room full of fancy gold-lace petticoats could nothave overheard from here. Nevertheless Callahan's eyes rolled like thedevil was behind him with the fork ready. O'Rielly, open your big earswhilst for your own good and mine I speak of certain matters.     Thousand years ago, it was, the first flight reached Venus. Guysgot one look at them dames. Had to bring some home or bust. So theneverybody on Earth got a look, mostly by TV only of course. That didit. Every guy on Earth began blowing his fuse over them dames. Give upthe shirt off his back, last buck in the bank, his own Earth dame orfamily—everything.     Well, that's when Earth dames took over like armies of wild catswith knots in their tails. Before the guys who'd brought the Venusdames to Earth could say anything they was taken apart too small topick up with a blotter. Earth dames wound up by flying the Venus onesback where they come from and serving notice if one ever set foot onEarth again there wouldn't be enough left of Venus to find with anelectron microscope.  <doc-sep>The big drum topped with a metallic coolie's hat had started out as aneutralizer for radioactivity. Now I didn't know what to call it.     The AEC had found burying canisters of hot rubbish in the desert orin the Gulf had eventually proved unsatisfactory. Earth tremors orchanges of temperature split the tanks in the ground, causing leaks.The undersea containers rusted and corroded through the time, poisoningfish and fishermen.     Through the SBA I had been awarded a subcontract to work on theproblem. The ideal solution would be to find a way to neutralizeradioactive emanations, alpha, beta, X et cetera. (No, my dear, etcetera rays aren't any more dangerous than the rest.) But this iseasier written than done.     Of course, getting energy to destroy energy without producing energy ormatter is a violation of the maxim of the conservation of energy. ButI didn't let that stop me—any more than I would have let the velocityof light put any limitations on a spacecraft engine had I been engagedto work on one. You can't allow other people's ideas to tie you handand foot. There are some who tell me, however, that my refusal to honorsuch time-tested cliches is why I only have a small private laboratoryowned by myself, my late wife's father and the bank, instead ofworking in the vast facilities of Bell, Du Pont, or General Motors. Tothis, I can only smile and nod.     But even refusing to be balked by conservative ideas, I failed.     I could not neutralize radioactivity. All I had been able to do (by abasic disturbance in the electromagnetogravitational co-ordinant systemfor Earth-Sun) was to reduce the mass of the radioactive matter.     This only concentrated the radiations, as in boiling contaminatedwater. It did make the hot stuff vaguely easier to handle, but it wasno breakthrough on the central problem.     Now, in the middle of this, I was supposed to find a way to get rid ofsome damned bodies for Carmen.     Pressed for time and knowing the results wouldn't have to be soprecise or carefully defined for a racketeer as for the United Statesgovernment, I began experimenting.     I cut corners.     I bypassed complete safety circuits.     I put dangerous overloads on some transformers and doodled with thewiring diagrams. If I got some kind of passable incinerator I would behappy.     I turned the machine on.     The lights popped out.     There were changes that should be made before I tried that again, butinstead I only found a larger fuse for a heavier load and jammed thatin the switchbox.     I flipped my machine into service once again. The lights flickered andheld.     The dials on my control board told me the story. It was hard to take.     But there it was.     The internal Scale showed zero.     I had had a slightly hot bar of silver alloy inside. It was completelygone. Mass zero. The temperature gauge showed that there had beenno change in centigrade reading that couldn't be explained by themechanical operation of the machine itself. There had been no suddendischarge of electricity or radioactivity. I checked for a standardanti-gravity effect but there was none. Gravity inside the cylinder hadgone to zero but never to minus.     I was at last violating conservation of energy—not by successfullyinverting the cube of the ionization factor, but by destroying mass ...by simply making it cease to exist with no cause-and-effect sideeffects.     I knew the government wouldn't be interested, since I couldn't explainhow my device worked. No amount of successful demonstration could everconvince anybody with any scientific training that it actually did work.     But I shrewdly judged that Tony Carmen wouldn't ask an embarrassinghow when he was incapable of understanding the explanation.  <doc-sep>Bam, Bam, Bam, the blood pounded in his ears. Like repeated blows of ahammer they shook his booming head. No longer was Torp above him. Hewas in the corner of the laboratory, a crumpled blood-smeared heap ofbruised flesh and bone. He was unfettered and the blood was caked uponhis skull and in his matted hair. Torp must have thought he had killedhim with those savage blows upon the head.     Even Torp, thought Thig ruefully, gave way to the primitive rage of hisancestors at times; but to that very bit of unconscious atavism he nowowed his life. A cool-headed robot of an Orthan would have efficientlyused the blaster to destroy any possibility of remaining life in hisunconscious body.     Thig rolled slowly over so that his eye found the door into the controlroom. Torp would be coming back again to dispose of their bodiesthrough the refuse lock. Already the body of Kam was gone. He wonderedwhy he had been left until last. Perhaps Torp wished to take culturesof his blood and tissues to determine whether a disease was responsiblefor his sudden madness.     The cases of fragile instruments were just above his head. Associationof memories brought him the flash of the heavy blaster in its rackbeneath them. His hand went up and felt the welcome hardness of theweapon. He tugged it free.     In a moment he was on his knees crawling across the plates of the decktoward the door. Halfway across the floor he collapsed on his face,the metal of the gun making a harsh clang. He heard the feet of Torpscuffle out of silence and a choked cry in the man's throat squalledout into a senseless whinny.     Thig raised himself up on a quivering elbow and slid the black lengthof the blaster in front of him. His eyes sought the doorway and staredfull into the glaring vacant orbs of his commander. Torp leaned therewatching him, his breath gurgling brokenly through his deep-bittenlips. The clawing marks of nails, fingernails, furrowed his face andchest. He was a madman!     The deadly attack of Thig; his own violent avenging of Kam's death, andnow the apparent return of the man he had killed come to life had allserved to jolt his rigidly trained brain from its accustomed groove.The shock had been too much for the established thought-processes ofthe Orthan.     So Thig shot him where he stood, mercifully, before that vacant madstare set him, too, to gibbering and shrieking. Then he stepped overthe skeleton-thing that had been Torp, using the new strength thatvictory had given him to drive him along.     He had saved a world's civilization from extinction! The thoughtsobered him; yet, somehow, he was pleased that he had done so. Afterall, it had been the Earthwoman and the children he had been thinkingof while he battled Kam, a selfish desire to protect them all.     He went to the desk where Torp had been writing in the ship's log andread the last few nervously scrawled lines:       Planet 72-P-3 unfit for colonization. Some pernicious disease thatstrikes at the brain centers and causes violent insanity is existentthere. Thig, just returned from a survey of the planet, went mad anddestroyed Kam. In turn I was forced to slay him. But it is not ended.Already I feel the insidious virus of....       And there his writing ended abruptly.     Thig nodded. That would do it. He set the automatic pilot for theplanet Ortha. Unless a rogue asteroid or a comet crossed the ship'spath she would return safely to Ortha with that mute warning of dangeron 72-P-3. The body of Torp would help to confirm his final message.     Then Thig crossed the cabin to the auxiliary life boat there, one ofa half-dozen space ships in miniature nested within the great ship'shull, and cut free from the mother vessel.     He flipped the drive lever, felt the thrumming of the rockets drivinghim from the parent ship. The sensation of free flight against his newbody was strangely exhilerating and heady. It was the newest of theemotions he had experienced on Earth since that day, so many monthsbefore, when he had felt the warmness of Ellen's lips tight against his.        Thig flipped the drive lever, felt the thrumming of therockets driving him from the parent ship.        He swung about to the port, watched the flaming drive-rockets of thegreat exploratory ship hurl it toward far-away Ortha, and there was noregret in his mind that he was not returning to the planet of his firstexistence.     He thought of the dull greys and blacks of his planet, of themonotonous routine of existence that had once been his—and his heartthrilled to the memories of the starry nights and perfect exciting dayshe had spent on his three month trip over Earth.     He made a brief salute to the existence he had known, turned with atiny sigh, and his fingers made brief adjustments in the controls. Therocket-thrum deepened, and the thin whistle of tenuous air clutchingthe ship echoed through the hull-plates.     He thought of many things in those few moments. He watched theroundness of Earth flatten out, then take on the cup-like illusionthat all planets had for an incoming ship. He reduced the drive of hisrockets to a mere whisper, striving to control the impatience thatcrowded his mind.     He shivered suddenly, remembering his utter callousness the first timehe had sent a space ship whipping down toward the hills and valleysbelow. And there was a sickness within him when he fully realized that,despite his acquired memory and traits, he was an alien from outerspace.     He fingered the tiny scars that had completely obliterated the slightdifferences in his appearance from an Earthman's, and his fingerstrembled a bit, as he bent and stared through the vision port. He saida brief prayer in his heart to a God whose presence he now felt verydeeply. There were tears in the depths of his eyes, then, and memorieswere hot, bitter pains.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What are the defining traits of Stryker in CONTROL GROUP?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the backdrop of the story CONTROL GROUP? [SEP] <s>  Any problem posed by one group ofhuman beings can be resolved by anyother group. That's what the Handbooksaid. But did that include primitivehumans? Or the Bees? Or a ...     CONTROL GROUP     By ROGER DEE  <doc-sep>   AIDE MEMOIRE     BY KEITH LAUMER     The Fustians looked like turtles—but     they could move fast when they chose!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Across the table from Retief, Ambassador Magnan rustled a stiff sheetof parchment and looked grave.     This aide memoire, he said, was just handed to me by the CulturalAttache. It's the third on the subject this week. It refers to thematter of sponsorship of Youth groups—     Some youths, Retief said. Average age, seventy-five.     The Fustians are a long-lived people, Magnan snapped. These mattersare relative. At seventy-five, a male Fustian is at a trying age—     That's right. He'll try anything—in the hope it will maim somebody.     Precisely the problem, Magnan said. But the Youth Movement isthe important news in today's political situation here on Fust. Andsponsorship of Youth groups is a shrewd stroke on the part of theTerrestrial Embassy. At my suggestion, well nigh every member of themission has leaped at the opportunity to score a few p—that is, cementrelations with this emergent power group—the leaders of the future.You, Retief, as Councillor, are the outstanding exception.     I'm not convinced these hoodlums need my help in organizing theirrumbles, Retief said. Now, if you have a proposal for a pest controlgroup—     To the Fustians this is no jesting matter, Magnan cut in. Thisgroup— he glanced at the paper—known as the Sexual, Cultural, andAthletic Recreational Society, or SCARS for short, has been awaitingsponsorship for a matter of weeks now.     Meaning they want someone to buy them a clubhouse, uniforms, equipmentand anything else they need to complete their sexual, cultural andathletic development, Retief said.     If we don't act promptly, Magnan said, the Groaci Embassy may wellanticipate us. They're very active here.     That's an idea, said Retief. Let 'em. After awhile they'll go brokeinstead of us.     Nonsense. The group requires a sponsor. I can't actually order you tostep forward. However.... Magnan let the sentence hang in the air.Retief raised one eyebrow.     For a minute there, he said, I thought you were going to make apositive statement.  <doc-sep>  THE GIANTS RETURN     By ROBERT ABERNATHY     Earth set itself grimly to meet them with     corrosive fire, determined to blast them     back to the stars. But they erred in thinking     the Old Ones were too big to be clever.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      In the last hours the star ahead had grown brighter by many magnitudes,and had changed its color from a dazzling blue through white to thenormal yellow, of a GO sun. That was the Doppler effect as the star'sradial velocity changed relative to the      Quest III     , as for forty hoursthe ship had decelerated.     They had seen many such stars come near out of the galaxy's glitteringbackdrop, and had seen them dwindle, turn red and go out as the      QuestIII     drove on its way once more, lashed by despair toward the speed oflight, leaving behind the mockery of yet another solitary and lifelessluminary unaccompanied by worlds where men might dwell. They had grownsated with the sight of wonders—of multiple systems of giant stars, ofnebulae that sprawled in empty flame across light years.     But now unwonted excitement possessed the hundred-odd members of the      Quest III's     crew. It was a subdued excitement; men and women, theycame and stood quietly gazing into the big vision screens that showedthe oncoming star, and there were wide-eyed children who had been bornin the ship and had never seen a planet. The grownups talked in lowvoices, in tones of mingled eagerness and apprehension, of what mightlie at the long journey's end. For the      Quest III     was coming home; thesun ahead was      the     Sun, whose rays had warmed their lives' beginning.  <doc-sep>   The Sense of Wonder     By MILTON LESSER     Illustrated by HARRY ROSENBAUM     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      When nobody aboard ship remembers where it's     going, how can they tell when it has arrived?      Every day for a week now, Rikud had come to the viewport to watchthe great changeless sweep of space. He could not quite explain thefeelings within him; they were so alien, so unnatural. But ever sincethe engines somewhere in the rear of the world had changed their tone,from the steady whining Rikud had heard all twenty-five years of hislife, to the sullen roar that came to his ears now, the feelings hadgrown.     If anyone else had noticed the change, he failed to mention it. Thisdisturbed Rikud, although he could not tell why. And, because he hadrealized this odd difference in himself, he kept it locked up insidehim.     Today, space looked somehow different. The stars—it was a meaninglessconcept to Rikud, but that was what everyone called the brightpinpoints of light on the black backdrop in the viewport—were notapparent in the speckled profusion Rikud had always known. Instead,there was more of the blackness, and one very bright star set apartby itself in the middle of the viewport.     If he had understood the term, Rikud would have told himself this wasodd. His head ached with the half-born thought. It was—it was—whatwas it?     Someone was clomping up the companionway behind Rikud. He turned andgreeted gray-haired old Chuls.     In five more years, the older man chided, you'll be ready to sirechildren. And all you can do in the meantime is gaze out at the stars.     Rikud knew he should be exercising now, or bathing in the rays of thehealth-lamps. It had never occurred to him that he didn't feel like it;he just didn't, without comprehending.     Chuls' reminder fostered uneasiness. Often Rikud had dreamed of thetime he would be thirty and a father. Whom would the Calculator selectas his mate? The first time this idea had occurred to him, Rikudignored it. But it came again, and each time it left him with a feelinghe could not explain. Why should he think thoughts that no other manhad? Why should he think he was thinking such thoughts, when it alwaysembroiled him in a hopeless, infinite confusion that left him with aheadache?     Chuls said, It is time for my bath in the health-rays. I saw you hereand knew it was your time, too....     His voice trailed off. Rikud knew that something which he could notexplain had entered the elder man's head for a moment, but it haddeparted almost before Chuls knew of its existence.     I'll go with you, Rikud told him.  <doc-sep>The President's Secretary, a paunchy veteran of party caucuses, wasalso glad that it was the Thinkers who had created the machine, thoughhe trembled at the power that it gave them over the Administration.Still, you could do business with the Thinkers. And nobody (not eventhe Thinkers) could do business (that sort of business) with Maizie!     Before that great square face with its thousands of tiny metalfeatures, only Jorj Helmuth seemed at ease, busily entering on thetape the complex Questions of the Day that the high officials hadhanded him: logistics for the Endless War in Pakistan, optimum size fornext year's sugar-corn crop, current thought trends in average Sovietminds—profound questions, yet many of them phrased with surprisingsimplicity. For figures, technical jargon, and layman's language werealike to Maizie; there was no need to translate into mathematicalshorthand, as with the lesser brain-machines.     The click of the taper went on until the Secretary of State had twicenervously fired a cigaret with his ultrasonic lighter and twice quicklyput it away. No one spoke.     Jorj looked up at the Secretary of Space. Section Five, QuestionFour—whom would that come from?     The burly man frowned. That would be the physics boys, Opperly'sgroup. Is anything wrong?     Jorj did not answer. A bit later he quit taping and began to adjustcontrols, going up on the boom-chair to reach some of them. Eventuallyhe came down and touched a few more, then stood waiting.     From the great cube came a profound, steady purring. Involuntarily thesix officials backed off a bit. Somehow it was impossible for a man toget used to the sound of Maizie starting to think.  <doc-sep>In the evening a girl brought Maitland his meal. As the door slidaside, he automatically stood up, and they stared at each other forseveral seconds.     She had the high cheekbones and almond eyes of an Oriental, skin thatglowed like gold in the evening light, yet thick coiled braids ofblonde hair that glittered like polished brass. Shorts and a sleevelessblouse of some thick, reddish, metallic-looking fabric clung to herbody, and over that she was wearing a light, ankle-length cloak of whatseemed to be white wool.     She was looking at him with palpable curiosity and something likeexpectancy. Maitland sighed and said, Hello, then glanced downself-consciously at his wrinkled green pajamas.       She smiled, put the tray of food on the table, and swept out, her cloakbillowing behind her. Maitland remained standing, staring at the closeddoor for a minute after she was gone.     Later, when he had finished the steak and corn on the cob and shreddedcarrots, and a feeling of warm well-being was diffusing from hisstomach to his extremities, he sat down on the bed to watch the sunsetand to think.     There were three questions for which he required answers before hecould formulate any plan or policy.     Where was he?     Who was Swarts?     What was the purpose of the tests he was being given?     It was possible, of course, that this was all an elaborate schemefor getting military secrets, despite Swarts' protestations to thecontrary. Maitland frowned. This place certainly didn't have theappearance of a military establishment, and so far there had beennothing to suggest the kind of interrogation to be expected fromforeign intelligence officers.     It might be better to tackle the first question first. He looked atthe Sun, a red spheroid already half below the horizon, and tried tothink of a region that had this kind of terrain. That prairie out therewas unique. Almost anywhere in the world, land like that would becultivated, not allowed to go to grass.     This might be somewhere in Africa....     He shook his head, puzzled. The Sun disappeared and its blood-huedglow began to fade from the sky. Maitland sat there, trying to gethold of the problem from an angle where it wouldn't just slip away.After a while the western sky became a screen of clear luminous blue,a backdrop for a pure white brilliant star. As always at that sight,Maitland felt his worry drain away, leaving an almost mystical sense ofpeace and an undefinable longing.     Venus, the most beautiful of the planets.     Maitland kept track of them all in their majestic paths through theconstellations, but Venus was his favorite. Time and time again hehad watched its steady climb higher and higher in the western sky,its transient rule there as evening star, its progression toward thehorizon, and loved it equally in its      alter ego     of morning star. Venuswas an old friend. An old friend....     Something icy settled on the back of his neck, ran down his spine, anddiffused into his body. He stared at the planet unbelievingly, fistsclenched, forgetting to breathe.     Last night Venus hadn't been there.     Venus was a morning star just now....       Just now!       He realized the truth in that moment.  <doc-sep>For a long time Loyce watched, crouched behind a sagging fence in a poolof scummy water.     They were landing. Coming down in groups, landing on the roof of theCity Hall and disappearing inside. They had wings. Like giant insects ofsome kind. They flew and fluttered and came to rest—and then crawledcrab-fashion, sideways, across the roof and into the building.     He was sickened. And fascinated. Cold night wind blew around him and heshuddered. He was tired, dazed with shock. On the front steps of theCity Hall were men, standing here and there. Groups of men coming out ofthe building and halting for a moment before going on.     Were there more of them?     It didn't seem possible. What he saw descending from the black chasmweren't men. They were alien—from some other world, some otherdimension. Sliding through this slit, this break in the shell of theuniverse. Entering through this gap, winged insects from another realmof being.     On the steps of the City Hall a group of men broke up. A few movedtoward a waiting car. One of the remaining shapes started to re-enterthe City Hall. It changed its mind and turned to follow the others.     Loyce closed his eyes in horror. His senses reeled. He hung on tight,clutching at the sagging fence. The shape, the man-shape, had abruptlyfluttered up and flapped after the others. It flew to the sidewalk andcame to rest among them.     Pseudo-men. Imitation men. Insects with ability to disguise themselvesas men. Like other insects familiar to Earth. Protective coloration.Mimicry.     Loyce pulled himself away. He got slowly to his feet. It was night. Thealley was totally dark. But maybe they could see in the dark. Maybedarkness made no difference to them.     He left the alley cautiously and moved out onto the street. Men andwomen flowed past, but not so many, now. At the bus-stops stood waitinggroups. A huge bus lumbered along the street, its lights flashing in theevening gloom.     Loyce moved forward. He pushed his way among those waiting and when thebus halted he boarded it and took a seat in the rear, by the door. Amoment later the bus moved into life and rumbled down the street.  <doc-sep>It was quite a bang, said Retief. But I guess you saw it, too.     No, confound it, Magnan said. When I remonstrated with Hulk, orWhelk—     Whonk.     —the ruffian thrust me into an alley bound in my own cloak. I'll mostcertainly complain to the Minister.     How about the surgical mission?     A most generous offer, said Magnan. Frankly, I was astonished. Ithink perhaps we've judged the Groaci too harshly.     I hear the Ministry of Youth has had a rough morning of it, saidRetief. And a lot of rumors are flying to the effect that Youth Groupsare on the way out.     Magnan cleared his throat, shuffled papers. I—ah—have explained tothe press that last night's—ah—     Fiasco.     —affair was necessary in order to place the culprits in an untenableposition. Of course, as to the destruction of the VIP vessel and thepresumed death of, uh, Slop.     The Fustians understand, said Retief. Whonk wasn't kidding aboutceremonial vengeance.     The Groaci had been guilty of gross misuse of diplomatic privilege,said Magnan. I think that a note—or perhaps an Aide Memoire: lessformal....     The      Moss Rock     was bound for Groaci, said Retief. She was alreadyin her transit orbit when she blew. The major fragments will arrive onschedule in a month or so. It should provide quite a meteorite display.I think that should be all the      aide     the Groaci's      memoires     will needto keep their tentacles off Fust.     But diplomatic usage—     Then, too, the less that's put in writing, the less they can blame youfor, if anything goes wrong.     That's true, said Magnan, lips pursed. Now you're thinkingconstructively, Retief. We may make a diplomat of you yet. He smiledexpansively.     Maybe. But I refuse to let it depress me. Retief stood up. I'mtaking a few weeks off ... if you have no objection, Mr. Ambassador. Mypal Whonk wants to show me an island down south where the fishing isgood.     But there are some extremely important matters coming up, saidMagnan. We're planning to sponsor Senior Citizen Groups—     Count me out. All groups give me an itch.     Why, what an astonishing remark, Retief! After all, we diplomats areourselves a group.     Uh-huh, Retief said.     Magnan sat quietly, mouth open, and watched as Retief stepped into thehall and closed the door gently behind him.   <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the backdrop of the story CONTROL GROUP?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What does the Ringwave technology signify in CONTROL GROUP? [SEP] <s>  The  cool green disk of AlphardSix on the screen wasinfinitely welcome after the ariddesolation and stinking swamplandsof the inner planets, anairy jewel of a world that mighthave been designed specificallyfor the hard-earned month ofrest ahead. Navigator Farrell,youngest and certainly most impulsiveof the three-man TerranReclamations crew, would haveset the      Marco Four     down atonce but for the greater cautionof Stryker, nominally captain ofthe group, and of Gibson, engineer,and linguist. Xavier, theship's little mechanical, had—aswas usual and proper—no voicein the matter.     Reconnaissance spiral first,Arthur, Stryker said firmly. Hechuckled at Farrell's instantscowl, his little eyes twinklingand his naked paunch quakingover the belt of his shipboardshorts. Chapter One, SubsectionFive, Paragraph Twenty-seven:      No planetfall on an unreclaimedworld shall be deemedsafe without proper—          Farrell, as Stryker had expected,interrupted with characteristicimpatience. Do you      sleep     with that damned ReclamationsHandbook, Lee? Alphard Sixisn't an unreclaimed world—itwas never colonized before theHymenop invasion back in 3025,so why should it be inhabitednow?     Gibson, who for four hourshad not looked up from his interminablechess game withXavier, paused with a beleagueredknight in one blunt brownhand.     No point in taking chances,Gibson said in his neutral baritone.He shrugged thick bareshoulders, his humorless black-browedface unmoved, whenFarrell included him in hisscowl. We're two hundred twenty-sixlight-years from Sol, atthe old limits of Terran expansion,and there's no knowingwhat we may turn up here. Alphard'swas one of the first systemsthe Bees took over. It musthave been one of the last to beabandoned when they pulled backto 70 Ophiuchi.     And I think      you     live for theday, Farrell said acidly, whenwe'll stumble across a functioningdome of live, buzzing Hymenops.Damn it, Gib, the Beespulled out a hundred years ago,before you and I were born—neitherof us ever saw a Hymenop,and never will!     But I saw them, Strykersaid. I fought them for the betterpart of the century they werehere, and I learned there's nopredicting nor understandingthem. We never knew why theycame nor why they gave up andleft. How can we know whetherthey'd leave a rear-guard orbooby trap here?     He put a paternal hand onFarrell's shoulder, understandingthe younger man's eagernessand knowing that their close-knitteam would have been themore poorly balanced without it.     Gib's right, he said. Henearly added      as usual     . We're onrest leave at the moment, yes,but our mission is still to findTerran colonies enslaved andabandoned by the Bees, not torisk our necks and a valuableReorientations ship by landingblind on an unobserved planet.We're too close already. Cut inyour shields and find a reconnaissancespiral, will you?     Grumbling, Farrell punchedcoordinates on the Ringwaveboard that lifted the      Marco Four     out of her descent and restoredthe bluish enveloping haze ofher repellors.     Stryker's caution was justifiedon the instant. The speedingstreamlined shape that had flashedup unobserved from belowswerved sharply and exploded ina cataclysmic blaze of atomicfire that rocked the ship wildlyand flung the three men to thefloor in a jangling roar ofalarms.      So the Handbook tacticiansknew what they were about,Stryker said minutes later. Deliberatelyhe adopted the smugtone best calculated to sting Farrellout of his first self-reproach,and grinned when the navigatorbristled defensively. Some oftheir enjoinders seem a littlestuffy and obvious at times, butthey're eminently sensible.     When Farrell refused to bebaited Stryker turned to Gibson,who was busily assessing thedamage done to the ship's morefragile equipment, and to Xavier,who searched the planet'ssurface with the ship's magnoscanner.The      Marco Four     , Ringwavegenerators humming gently,hung at the moment justinside the orbit of Alphard Six'ssingle dun-colored moon.     Gibson put down a test meterwith an air of finality.     Nothing damaged but theZero Interval Transfer computer.I can realign that in a coupleof hours, but it'll have to bedone before we hit Transferagain.      Stryker looked dubious.What if the issue is forced beforethe ZIT unit is repaired?Suppose they come up after us?     I doubt that they can. Anyinstallation crudely enoughequipped to trust in guided missilesis hardly likely to have developedefficient space craft.     Stryker was not reassured.     That torpedo of theirs wasdeadly enough, he said. Andits nature reflects the nature ofthe people who made it. Any racevicious enough to use atomiccharges is too dangerous totrifle with. Worry made comicalcreases in his fat, good-humoredface. We'll have to findout who they are and whythey're here, you know.     They can't be Hymenops,Gibson said promptly. First,because the Bees pinned theirfaith on Ringwave energy fields,as we did, rather than on missiles.Second, because there's nodome on Six.     There were three emptydomes on Five, which is a desertplanet, Farrell pointed out.Why didn't they settle Six? It'sa more habitable world.     Gibson shrugged. I know theBees always erected domes onevery planet they colonized, Arthur,but precedent is a fallibletool. And it's even more firmlyestablished that there's no possibilityof our rationalizing themotivations of a culture as alienas the Hymenops'—we've beenover that argument a hundredtimes on other reclaimedworlds.     But this was never an unreclaimedworld, Farrell saidwith the faint malice of one toorecently caught in the wrong.Alphard Six was surveyed andseeded with Terran bacteriaaround the year 3000, but theBees invaded before we couldcolonize. And that means we'llhave to rule out any resurgentcolonial group down there, becauseSix never had a colony inthe beginning.     The Bees have been gone forover a hundred years, Strykersaid. Colonists might have migratedfrom another Terran-occupiedplanet.     Gibson disagreed.     We've touched at every inhabitedworld in this sector, Lee,and not one surviving colony hasdeveloped space travel on itsown. The Hymenops had a hundredyears to condition their humanslaves to ignorance ofeverything beyond their immediateenvironment—the motivesbehind that conditioning usuallyescape us, but that's beside thepoint—and they did a thoroughjob of it. The colonists have hadno more than a century of freedomsince the Bees pulled out,and four generations simplyisn't enough time for any subjugatedculture to climb fromslavery to interstellar flight.     Stryker made a padding turnabout the control room, tuggingunhappily at the scanty fringeof hair the years had left him.     If they're neither Hymenopsnor resurgent colonists, he said,then there's only one choice remaining—they'realiens from asystem we haven't reached yet,beyond the old sphere of Terranexploration. We always assumedthat we'd find other races outhere someday, and that they'dbe as different from us in formand motivation as the Hymenops.Why not now?     Gibson said seriously, Notprobable, Lee. The same objectionthat rules out the Bees appliesto any trans-Alphardianculture—they'd have to be beyondthe atomic fission stage,else they'd never have attemptedinterstellar flight. The Ringwavewith its Zero Interval Transferprinciple and instantaneous communicationsapplications is theonly answer to long-range travel,and if they'd had that theywouldn't have bothered withatomics.     Stryker turned on him almostangrily. If they're not Hymenopsor humans or aliens, thenwhat in God's name      are     they?      Aye, there's the rub, Farrellsaid, quoting a passagewhose aptness had somehow seenit through a dozen reorganizationsof insular tongue and afinal translation to universalTerran. If they're none of thosethree, we've only one conclusionleft. There's no one down thereat all—we're victims of the firstjoint hallucination in psychiatrichistory.     Stryker threw up his hands insurrender. We can't identifythem by theorizing, and thatbrings us down to the businessof first-hand investigation.Who's going to bell the cat thistime?     I'd like to go, Gibson saidat once. The ZIT computer canwait.     Stryker vetoed his offer aspromptly. No, the ZIT comesfirst. We may have to run for it,and we can't set up a Transferjump without the computer. It'sgot to be me or Arthur.     Farrell felt the familiar chillof uneasiness that inevitablypreceded this moment of decision.He was not lacking in courage,else the circumstances underwhich he had worked for thepast ten years—the sometimesperilous, sometimes downrightcharnel conditions left by thefleeing Hymenop conquerors—wouldhave broken him longago. But that same hard experiencehad honed rather thanblunted the edge of his imagination,and the prospect of a close-quartersstalking of an unknownand patently hostile force wasanything but attractive.     You two did the field workon the last location, he said.It's high time I took my turn—andGod knows I'd go mad ifI had to stay inship and listento Lee memorizing his Handbooksubsections or to Gib practicingdead languages with Xavier.     Stryker laughed for the firsttime since the explosion thathad so nearly wrecked the      MarcoFour     .     Good enough. Though itwouldn't be more diverting tolisten for hours to you improvisingenharmonic variations onthe      Lament for Old Terra     withyour accordion.     Gibson, characteristically, hada refinement to offer.     They'll be alerted down therefor a reconnaissance sally, hesaid. Why not let Xavier takethe scouter down for overt diversion,and drop Arthur off inthe helihopper for a low-levelcheck?     Stryker looked at Farrell. Allright, Arthur?     Good enough, Farrell said.And to Xavier, who had notmoved from his post at the magnoscanner:How does it look,Xav? Have you pinned downtheir base yet?     The mechanical answered himin a voice as smooth and clear—andas inflectionless—as a 'cellonote. The planet seems uninhabitedexcept for a large islandsome three hundred miles indiameter. There are twenty-sevensmall agrarian hamlets surroundedby cultivated fields.There is one city of perhaps athousand buildings with a centralsquare. In the square restsa grounded spaceship of approximatelyten times the bulkof the      Marco Four     .     They crowded about the visionscreen, jostling Xavier's jointedgray shape in their interest. Thecentral city lay in minutest detailbefore them, the batteredhulk of the grounded ship glintingrustily in the late afternoonsunlight. Streets radiated awayfrom the square in orderly succession,the whole so clearlydepicted that they could see thethrongs of people surging upand down, tiny foreshortenedfaces turned toward the sky.     At least they're human,Farrell said. Relief replaced insome measure his earlier uneasiness.Which means that they'reTerran, and can be dealt withaccording to Reclamations routine.Is that hulk spaceworthy,Xav?     Xavier's mellow drone assumedthe convention vibrato thatindicated stark puzzlement. Itsbreached hull makes the ship incapableof flight. Apparently itis used only to supply power tothe outlying hamlets.     The mechanical put a flexiblegray finger upon an indicatorgraph derived from a compositesection of detector meters. Thepower transmitted seems to begross electric current conveyedby metallic cables. It is generatedthrough a crudely governedprocess of continuous atomicfission.      Farrell, himself appalled bythe information, still found himselfable to chuckle at Stryker'sbellow of consternation.           Continuous fission?     GoodGod, only madmen would deliberatelyrun a risk like that!     Farrell prodded him withcheerful malice. Why say mad      men     ? Maybe they're humanoidaliens who thrive on hard radiationand look on the danger ofbeing blown to hell in the middleof the night as a satisfactoryrisk.     They're not alien, Gibsonsaid positively. Their architectureis Terran, and so is theirship. The ship is incrediblyprimitive, though; those batteriesof tubes at either end—     Are thrust reaction jets,Stryker finished in an awedvoice. Primitive isn't the word,Gib—the thing is prehistoric!Rocket propulsion hasn't beenused in spacecraft since—howlong, Xav?     Xavier supplied the informationwith mechanical infallibility.Since the year 2100 whenthe Ringwave propulsion-communicationprinciple was discovered.That principle has servedmen since.     Farrell stared in blank disbeliefat the anomalous craft onthe screen. Primitive, as Strykerhad said, was not the wordfor it: clumsily ovoid, studdedwith torpedo domes and turretsand bristling at either end withpropulsion tubes, it lay at thecenter of its square like a rustedrelic of a past largely destroyedand all but forgotten. What amagnificent disregard its buildersmust have had, he thought,for their lives and the geneticpurity of their posterity! Thesullen atomic fires banked inthat oxidizing hulk—     Stryker said plaintively, Ifyou're right, Gib, then we'remore in the dark than ever. Howcould a Terran-built ship elevenhundred years old get      here     ?     Gibson, absorbed in his chess-player'scontemplation of alternatives,seemed hardly to hearhim.     Logic or not-logic, Gibsonsaid. If it's a Terran artifact,we can discover the reason forits presence. If not—           Any problem posed by onegroup of human beings     , Strykerquoted his Handbook,       can beresolved by any other group, regardlessof ideology or conditioning,because the basicperceptive abilities of both mustbe the same through identicalheredity     .     If it's an imitation, and thisis another Hymenop experimentin condition ecology, then we'restumped to begin with, Gibsonfinished. Because we're notequipped to evaluate the psychologyof alien motivation. We'vegot to determine first which caseapplies here.      He waited for Farrell's expectedirony, and when thenavigator forestalled him by remaininggrimly quiet, continued.     The obvious premise is thata Terran ship must have beenbuilt by Terrans. Question: Wasit flown here, or built here?     It couldn't have been builthere, Stryker said. AlphardSix was surveyed just before theBees took over in 3025, and therewas nothing of the sort herethen. It couldn't have been builtduring the two and a quartercenturies since; it's obviouslymuch older than that. It wasflown here.     We progress, Farrell saiddryly. Now if you'll tell us      how     ,we're ready to move.     I think the ship was built onTerra during the Twenty-secondCentury, Gibson said calmly.The atomic wars during thatperiod destroyed practically allhistorical records along with thetechnology of the time, but I'veread well-authenticated reportsof atomic-driven ships leavingTerra before then for the nearerstars. The human race climbedout of its pit again during theTwenty-third Century and developedthe technology that gaveus the Ringwave. Certainly noatomic-powered ships were builtafter the wars—our records arecomplete from that time.     Farrell shook his head at theinference. I've read any numberof fanciful romances on thetheme, Gib, but it won't standup in practice. No shipboard societycould last through a thousand-yearspace voyage. It's aphysical and psychological impossibility.There's got to besome other explanation.      Gibson shrugged. We canonly eliminate the least likelyalternatives and accept the simplestone remaining.     Then we can eliminate thisone now, Farrell said flatly. Itentails a thousand-year voyage,which is an impossibility for anygross reaction drive; the applicationof suspended animationor longevity or a successive-generationprogram, and a finalpenetration of Hymenop-occupiedspace to set up a colony underthe very antennae of theBees. Longevity wasn't developeduntil around the year 3000—Leehere was one of the first toprofit by it, if you remember—andsuspended animation is stillto come. So there's one theoryyou can forget.     Arthur's right, Stryker saidreluctantly. An atomic-poweredship      couldn't     have made such atrip, Gib. And such a lineal-descendantproject couldn't havelasted through forty generations,speculative fiction to thecontrary—the later generationswould have been too far removedin ideology and intent fromtheir ancestors. They'd haveadapted to shipboard life as thenorm. They'd have atrophiedphysically, perhaps even havemutated—     And they'd never havefought past the Bees during theHymenop invasion and occupation,Farrell finished triumphantly.The Bees had betterdetection equipment than wehad. They'd have picked thisship up long before it reachedAlphard Six.     But the ship wasn't here in3000, Gibson said, and it isnow. Therefore it must have arrivedat some time during thetwo hundred years of Hymenopoccupation and evacuation.     Farrell, tangled in contradictions,swore bitterly. Butwhy should the Bees let themthrough? The three domes onFive are over two hundred yearsold, which means that the Beeswere here before the ship came.Why didn't they blast it or enslaveits crew?     We haven't touched on all thepossibilities, Gibson remindedhim. We haven't even establishedyet that these people werenever under Hymenop control.Precedent won't hold always, andthere's no predicting nor evaluatingthe motives of an alienrace. We never understood theHymenops because there's nocommon ground of logic betweenus. Why try to interpret theirintentions now?     Farrell threw up his hands indisgust. Next you'll say this isan ancient Terran expeditionthat actually succeeded! There'sonly one way to answer thequestions we've raised, andthat's to go down and see forourselves. Ready, Xav?      But uncertainty nagged uneasilyat him when Farrell foundhimself alone in the helihopperwith the forest flowing beneathlike a leafy river and Xavier'sscouter disappearing bulletlikeinto the dusk ahead.     We never found a colony soadvanced, Farrell thought. Supposethis is a Hymenop experimentthat really paid off? TheBees did some weird and wonderfulthings with humanguinea pigs—what if they'vecreated the ultimate booby traphere, and primed it with conditionedmyrmidons in our ownform?     Suppose, he thought—and deridedhimself for thinking it—oneof those suicidal old interstellarventures      did     succeed?     Xavier's voice, a mellowdrone from the helihopper'sRingwave-powered visicom, cutsharply into his musing. Theship has discovered the scouterand is training an electronicbeam upon it. My instrumentsrecord an electromagnetic vibrationpattern of low power butrapidly varying frequency. Theoperation seems pointless.     Stryker's voice followed, querulouswith worry: I'd betterpull Xav back. It may be somethinglethal.     Don't, Gibson's baritone advised.Surprisingly, there wasexcitement in the engineer'svoice. I think they're trying tocommunicate with us.     Farrell was on the point ofdemanding acidly to know howone went about communicatingby means of a fluctuating electricfield when the unexpectedcessation of forest diverted hisattention. The helihopper scuddedover a cultivated areaof considerable extent, fieldsstretching below in a vague randomcheckerboard of lighter anddarker earth, an undefined clusterof buildings at their center.There was a central bonfire thatburned like a wild red eyeagainst the lower gloom, and inits plunging ruddy glow he madeout an urgent scurrying of shadowyfigures.     I'm passing over a hamlet,Farrell reported. The one nearestthe city, I think. There'ssomething odd going ondown—     Catastrophe struck so suddenlythat he was caught completelyunprepared. The helihopper'sflimsy carriage bucked andcrumpled. There was a blindingflare of electric discharge, apungent stink of ozone and astunning shock that flung himheadlong into darkness.      He awoke slowly with a brutalheadache and a conviction ofnightmare heightened by theoutlandish tone of his surroundings.He lay on a narrow bed ina whitely antiseptic infirmary,an oblong metal cell clutteredwith a grimly utilitarian arrayof tables and lockers and chests.The lighting was harsh andoverbright and the air hungthick with pungent unfamiliarchemical odors. From somewhere,far off yet at the sametime as near as the bulkheadabove him, came the unceasingdrone of machinery.     Farrell sat up, groaning,when full consciousness made hisposition clear. He had been shotdown by God knew what sort ofdevastating unorthodox weaponand was a prisoner in thegrounded ship.     At his rising, a white-smockedfat man with anachronistic spectaclesand close-cropped grayhair came into the room, movingwith the professional assuranceof a medic. The man stoppedshort at Farrell's stare andspoke; his words were utterlyunintelligible, but his gesturewas unmistakable.     Farrell followed him dumblyout of the infirmary and downa bare corridor whose metalfloor rang coldly underfoot. Anopen port near the corridor's endrelieved the blankness of walland let in a flood of reddish Alphardiansunlight; Farrell slowedto look out, wondering howlong he had lain unconscious,and felt panic knife at himwhen he saw Xavier's scouter lying,port open and undefended,on the square outside.     The mechanical had been aseasily taken as himself, then.Stryker and Gibson, for all theirprofessional caution, would fareno better—they could not haveoverlooked the capture of Farrelland Xavier, and when theytried as a matter of course torescue them the      Marco     would bestruck down in turn by the sameweapon.     The fat medic turned andsaid something urgent in hisunintelligible tongue. Farrell,dazed by the enormity of whathad happened, followed withoutprotest into an intersecting waythat led through a bewilderingsuccession of storage rooms andhydroponics gardens, through asmall gymnasium fitted withphysical training equipment ingraduated sizes and finally intoa soundproofed place that couldhave been nothing but a nursery.     The implication behind itspresence stopped Farrell short.     A      creche     , he said, stunned.He had a wild vision of endlessgenerations of children growingup in this dim and stuffy room,to be taught from their firsttoddling steps the functions theymust fulfill before the ventureof which they were a part couldbe consummated.     One of those old ventures      had     succeeded, he thought, and wasawed by the daring of that thousand-yearodyssey. The realizationleft him more alarmed thanbefore—for what technical marvelsmight not an isolated groupof such dogged specialists havedeveloped during a millenniumof application?     Such a weapon as had broughtdown the helihopper and scouterwas patently beyond reach of hisown latter-day technology. Perhaps,he thought, its possessionexplained the presence of thesepeople here in the first strongholdof the Hymenops; perhapsthey had even fought and defeatedthe Bees on their own invadedground.     He followed his white-smockedguide through a power roomwhere great crude generatorswhirred ponderously, pouringout gross electric current intoarm-thick cables. They werenearing the bow of the shipwhen they passed by anotheropen port and Farrell, glancingout over the lowered rampway,saw that his fears for Strykerand Gibson had been wellgrounded.     The      Marco Four     , ports open,lay grounded outside.      Farrell could not have said,later, whether his next movewas planned or reflexive. Thewhole desperate issue seemed tohang suspended for a breathlessmoment upon a hair-fine edge ofdecision, and in that instant hemade his bid.     Without pausing in his stridehe sprang out and through theport and down the steep planeof the ramp. The rough stonepavement of the square drummedunderfoot; sore musclestore at him, and weakness waslike a weight about his neck. Heexpected momentarily to beblasted out of existence.     He reached the      Marco Four     with the startled shouts of hisguide ringing unintelligibly inhis ears. The port yawned; heplunged inside and stabbed atcontrols without waiting to seathimself. The ports swung shut.The ship darted up under hismanipulation and arrowed intospace with an acceleration thatsprung his knees and made hisvision swim blackly.     He was so weak with strainand with the success of his coupthat he all but fainted whenStryker, his scanty hair tousledand his fat face comical with bewilderment,stumbled out of hissleeping cubicle and bellowed athim.     What the hell are you doing,Arthur? Take us down!     Farrell gaped at him, speechless.     Stryker lumbered past himand took the controls, spiralingthe      Marco Four     down. Menswarmed outside the ports whenthe Reclamations craft settledgently to the square again. Gibsonand Xavier reached the shipfirst; Gibson came inside quickly,leaving the mechanical outsidemaking patient explanationsto an excited group of Alphardians.     Gibson put a reassuring handon Farrell's arm. It's all right,Arthur. There's no trouble.     Farrell said dumbly, I don'tunderstand. They didn't shootyou and Xav down too?     It was Gibson's turn to stare.     No one shot you down! Thesepeople are primitive enough touse metallic power lines tocarry electricity to their hamlets,an anachronism you forgotlast night. You piloted the helihopperinto one of those lines,and the crash put you out forthe rest of the night and mostof today. These Alphardians arefriendly, so desperately happy tobe found again that it's reallypathetic.           Friendly?     That torpedo—     It wasn't a torpedo at all,Stryker put in. Understandingof the error under which Farrellhad labored erased hisearlier irritation, and he chuckledcommiseratingly. They hadone small boat left for emergencymissions, and sent it up tocontact us in the fear that wemight overlook their settlementand move on. The boat wasatomic powered, and our shieldscreens set off its engines.     Farrell dropped into a chair atthe chart table, limp with reaction.He was suddenly exhausted,and his head ached dully.     We cracked the communicationsproblem early last night,Gibson said. These people usean ancient system of electromagneticwave propagation calledfrequency modulation, and onceLee and I rigged up a suitabletransceiver the rest was simple.Both Xav and I recognized theold language; the natives reportedyour accident, and we camedown at once.     They really came from Terra?They lived through a thousandyears of flight?     The ship left Terra forSirius in 2171, Gibson said.But not with these peopleaboard, or their ancestors. Thatexpedition perished after lessthan a light-year when itshydroponics system failed. TheHymenops found the ship derelictwhen they invaded us, andbrought it to Alphard Six inwhat was probably their first experimentwith human subjects.The ship's log shows clearlywhat happened to the originalcomplement. The rest is deduciblefrom the situation here.     Farrell put his hands to histemples and groaned. The crashmust have scrambled my wits.Gib, where      did     they come from?     From one of the first peripheralcolonies conquered by theBees, Gibson said patiently.The Hymenops were long-rangeplanners, remember, and mastersof hypnotic conditioning. Theystocked the ship with a captivecrew of Terrans conditioned tobelieve themselves descendantsof the original crew, andgrounded it here in disabledcondition. They left for AlphardFive then, to watch developments.     Succeeding generations ofcolonists grew up accepting thefact that their ship had missedSirius and made planetfall here—theystill don't know wherethey really are—by luck. Theynever knew about the Hymenops,and they've struggled alongwith an inadequate technology inthe hope that a later expeditionwould find them. They found thetruth hard to take, but they'reeager to enjoy the fruits of Terranassimilation.     Stryker, grinning, broughtFarrell a frosted drink that tinkledinvitingly. An unusuallyfortunate ending to a Hymenopexperiment, he said. Thesepeople progressed normally becausethey've been let alone. Reorientingthem will be a simplematter; they'll be properly spoiledcolonists within another generation.     Farrell sipped his drink appreciatively.     But I don't see why the Beesshould go to such trouble to deceivethese people. Why did theysit back and let them grow asthey pleased, Gib? It doesn'tmake sense!     But it does, for once, Gibsonsaid. The Bees set up thiscolony as a control unit to studythe species they were invading,and they had to give theirspecimens a normal—if obsolete—backgroundin order to determinetheir capabilities. The factthat their experiment didn't tellthem what they wanted to knowmay have had a direct bearingon their decision to pull out.     Farrell shook his head. It'sa reverse application, isn't it ofthe old saw about Terrans beingincapable of understanding analien culture?     Of course, said Gibson, surprised.It's obvious enough,surely—hard as they tried, theBees never understood useither.     THE END     Transcriber's Note:    This etext was produced from    Amazing Science Fiction Stories   January1960. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling andtypographical errors have been corrected without note.<doc-sep>The Movement met in what had been the children's room, where unpaidladies of the afternoon had once upon a time read stories to otherpeople's offspring. The members sat around at the miniature tableslooking oddly like giants fled from their fairy tales, protesting.     Where did the old society fail? the leader was demanding of them. Hestood in the center of the room, leaning on a heavy knobbed cane. Heglanced around at the group almost complacently, and waited as HumphreyFownes squeezed into an empty chair. We live in a dome, the leadersaid, for lack of something. An invention! What is the one thingthat the great technological societies before ours could not invent,notwithstanding their various giant brains, electronic and otherwise?     Fownes was the kind of man who never answered a rhetorical question. Hewaited, uncomfortable in the tight chair, while the others struggledwith this problem in revolutionary dialectics.           A sound foreign policy     , the leader said, aware that no one else hadobtained the insight. If a sound foreign policy can't be created theonly alternative is not to have any foreign policy at all. Thus themovement into domes began—      by common consent of the governments     . Thisis known as self-containment.     Dialectically out in left field, Humphrey Fownes waited for a lullin the ensuing discussion and then politely inquired how it might bearranged for him to get out.     Out? the leader said, frowning. Out? Out where?     Outside the dome.     Oh. All in good time, my friend. One day we shall all pick up andleave.     And that day I'll await impatiently, Fownes replied with marveloustact, because it will be lonely out there for the two of us. My futurewife and I have to leave      now     .     Nonsense. Ridiculous! You have to be prepared for the Open Country.You can't just up and leave, it would be suicide, Fownes. Anddialectically very poor.     Then you      have     discussed preparations, the practical necessities oflife in the Open Country. Food, clothing, a weapon perhaps? What else?Have I left anything out?     The leader sighed. The gentleman wants to know if he's left anythingout, he said to the group.     Fownes looked around at them, at some dozen pained expressions.     Tell the man what he's forgotten, the leader said, walking to the farwindow and turning his back quite pointedly on them.     Everyone spoke at the same moment.       A sound foreign policy     , they allsaid, it being almost too obvious for words.  <doc-sep>  Any problem posed by one group ofhuman beings can be resolved by anyother group. That's what the Handbooksaid. But did that include primitivehumans? Or the Bees? Or a ...     CONTROL GROUP     By ROGER DEE  <doc-sep>   THE FROZEN PLANET     By Keith Laumer     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      It is rather unusual, Magnan said, to assign an officer of your rankto courier duty, but this is an unusual mission.     Retief sat relaxed and said nothing. Just before the silence grewawkward, Magnan went on.     There are four planets in the group, he said. Two double planets,all rather close to an unimportant star listed as DRI-G 33987. They'recalled Jorgensen's Worlds, and in themselves are of no importancewhatever. However, they lie deep in the sector into which the Soettihave been penetrating.     Now— Magnan leaned forward and lowered his voice—we have learnedthat the Soetti plan a bold step forward. Since they've met noopposition so far in their infiltration of Terrestrial space, theyintend to seize Jorgensen's Worlds by force.     Magnan leaned back, waiting for Retief's reaction. Retief drewcarefully on his cigar and looked at Magnan. Magnan frowned.     This is open aggression, Retief, he said, in case I haven't mademyself clear. Aggression on Terrestrial-occupied territory by an alienspecies. Obviously, we can't allow it.     Magnan drew a large folder from his desk.     A show of resistance at this point is necessary. Unfortunately,Jorgensen's Worlds are technologically undeveloped areas. They'refarmers or traders. Their industry is limited to a minor role intheir economy—enough to support the merchant fleet, no more. The warpotential, by conventional standards, is nil.     Magnan tapped the folder before him.     I have here, he said solemnly, information which will change thatpicture completely. He leaned back and blinked at Retief.  <doc-sep>   AIDE MEMOIRE     BY KEITH LAUMER     The Fustians looked like turtles—but     they could move fast when they chose!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Across the table from Retief, Ambassador Magnan rustled a stiff sheetof parchment and looked grave.     This aide memoire, he said, was just handed to me by the CulturalAttache. It's the third on the subject this week. It refers to thematter of sponsorship of Youth groups—     Some youths, Retief said. Average age, seventy-five.     The Fustians are a long-lived people, Magnan snapped. These mattersare relative. At seventy-five, a male Fustian is at a trying age—     That's right. He'll try anything—in the hope it will maim somebody.     Precisely the problem, Magnan said. But the Youth Movement isthe important news in today's political situation here on Fust. Andsponsorship of Youth groups is a shrewd stroke on the part of theTerrestrial Embassy. At my suggestion, well nigh every member of themission has leaped at the opportunity to score a few p—that is, cementrelations with this emergent power group—the leaders of the future.You, Retief, as Councillor, are the outstanding exception.     I'm not convinced these hoodlums need my help in organizing theirrumbles, Retief said. Now, if you have a proposal for a pest controlgroup—     To the Fustians this is no jesting matter, Magnan cut in. Thisgroup— he glanced at the paper—known as the Sexual, Cultural, andAthletic Recreational Society, or SCARS for short, has been awaitingsponsorship for a matter of weeks now.     Meaning they want someone to buy them a clubhouse, uniforms, equipmentand anything else they need to complete their sexual, cultural andathletic development, Retief said.     If we don't act promptly, Magnan said, the Groaci Embassy may wellanticipate us. They're very active here.     That's an idea, said Retief. Let 'em. After awhile they'll go brokeinstead of us.     Nonsense. The group requires a sponsor. I can't actually order you tostep forward. However.... Magnan let the sentence hang in the air.Retief raised one eyebrow.     For a minute there, he said, I thought you were going to make apositive statement.  <doc-sep>Now Crifer said, I've been reading again, Rikud.     Yes? Almost no one read any more, and the library was heavy with thesmell of dust. Reading represented initiative on the part of Crifer; itmeant that, in the two unoccupied hours before sleep, he went to thelibrary and listened to the reading machine. Everyone else simply satabout and talked. That was the custom. Everyone did it.     But if he wasn't reading himself, Rikud usually went to sleep. All thepeople ever talked about was what they had done during the day, and itwas always the same.     Yes, said Crifer. I found a book about the stars. They're alsocalled astronomy, I think.     This was a new thought to Rikud, and he propped his head up on oneelbow. What did you find out?     That's about all. They're just called astronomy, I think.     Well, where's the book? Rikud would read it tomorrow.     I left it in the library. You can find several of them under'astronomy,' with a cross-reference under 'stars.' They're synonymousterms.     You know, Rikud said, sitting up now, the stars in the viewport arechanging.     Changing? Crifer questioned the fuzzy concept as much as hequestioned what it might mean in this particular case.     Yes, there are less of them, and one is bigger and brighter than theothers.     Astronomy says some stars are variable, Crifer offered, but Rikudknew his lame-footed companion understood the word no better than hedid.     Over on Rikud's right, Chuls began to dress. Variability, he toldthem, is a contradictory term. Nothing is variable. It can't be.     I'm only saying what I read in the book, Crifer protested mildly.     Well, it's wrong. Variability and change are two words withoutmeaning.     People grow old, Rikud suggested.     A buzzer signified that his fifteen minutes under the rays were up, andChuls said, It's almost time for me to eat.     Rikud frowned. Chuls hadn't even seen the connection between the twoconcepts, yet it was so clear. Or was it? He had had it a moment ago,but now it faded, and change and old were just two words.     His own buzzer sounded a moment later, and it was with a strangefeeling of elation that he dressed and made his way back to theviewport. When he passed the door which led to the women's half of theworld, however, he paused. He wanted to open that door and see a woman.He had been told about them and he had seen pictures, and he dimlyremembered his childhood among women. But his feelings had changed;this was different. Again there were inexplicable feelings—strangechannelings of Rikud's energy in new and confusing directions.     He shrugged and reserved the thought for later. He wanted to see thestars again.  <doc-sep>The first thing you learn in school is that if it weren't for idiot andcriminal people like these, Earth would never have been destroyed. Theevacuation would never have had to take place, and eight billion peoplewouldn't have died. There wouldn't have      been     eight billion people.But, no. They bred and they spread and they devoured everything intheir path like a cancer. They gobbled up all the resources that Earthhad and crowded and shoved one another until the final war came.     I am lucky. My great-great-grandparents were among those who had enoughforesight to see what was coming. If it hadn't been for them and someothers like them, there wouldn't be any humans left anywhere. And Iwouldn't be here. That may not scare you, but it scares me.     What happened before, when people didn't use their heads and wound upblowing the Solar System apart, is something nobody should forget. Theolder people don't let us forget. But these people had, and that theCouncil should know.     For the first time since I landed on Tintera, I felt      really     frightened. There was too much going on that I didn't understand. Ifelt a blind urge to get away, and when I reached the edge of town, Iwhomped Ninc a good one and gave him his head.     I let him run for almost a mile before I pulled him down to a walkagain. I couldn't help wishing for Jimmy D. Whatever else he is, he'ssmart and brains I needed.     How do you find out what's going on? Eavesdrop? That's a lousy method.For one thing, people can't be depended on to talk about the things youwant to hear. For another, you're likely to get caught. Ask somebody?Who? Make the mistake of bracing a fellow like Horst and you might windup with a sore head and an empty pocket. The best thing I could thinkof was to find a library, but that might be a job.     I'd had two bad shocks on this day, but they weren't the last. In thelate afternoon, when the sun was starting to sink and a cool wind wasstarting to ripple the tree leaves, I saw the scoutship high in thesky. The dying sun colored it a deep red. Back again? I wondered whathad gone wrong.     I reached down into my saddlebag and brought out my contact signal.The scoutship swung up in the sky in a familiar movement calculated todrop the stomach out of everybody aboard. George Fuhonin's style. Itriggered the signal, my heart turning flips all the while. I didn'tknow why he was back, but I wasn't really sorry.     The ship swung around until it was coming back on a path almost over myhead, going in the same direction. Then it went into a slip and startedbucking so hard that I knew this wasn't hot piloting at all, just plainidiot stutter-fingered stupidity at the controls. As it skidded by meoverhead, I got a good look at it and knew that it wasn't one of ours.Not too different, but not ours.       One more enigma. Where was it from? Not here. Even if you know how, andwe wouldn't tell these Mud-eaters how, a scoutship is something thattakes an advanced technology to build.  <doc-sep>The cot creaked beside him and he felt a soft arm about his shouldersand fingers delicately stroking his brow. Presently he opened his eyesand looked at her. I just don't understand, he said. It seemedobvious to me that whenever men were able to reach the planets, they'ddo it.     Her pitying eyes were on his face. He hitched himself around so that hewas facing her. I've got to understand. I've got to know      why     . Whathappened? Why don't men want the planets any more?     Honestly, she said, I did not know they ever had. She hesitated.Maybe you are asking the wrong question.     He furrowed his brow, bewildered now by her.     I mean, she explained, maybe you should ask why people in the 20thCentury      did     want to go to worlds men are not suited to inhabit.     Maitland felt his face become hot. Men can go anywhere, if they wantto bad enough.     But      why     ?     Despite his sudden irrational anger toward her, Maitland tried to stickto logic. Living space, for one thing. The only permanent solution tothe population problem....     We have no population problem. A hundred years ago, we realized thatthe key to social stability is a limited population. Our economicsystem was built to take care of three hundred million people, and wehave held the number at that.     Birth control, Maitland scoffed. How do you make it work—secretpolice?     No. Education. Each of us has the right to two children, and wecherish that right so much that we make every effort to see that thosetwo are the best children we could possibly produce....     She broke off, looking a little self-conscious. You understand, whatI have been saying applies to      most     of the world. In some places likeAresund, things are different. Backward. I still do not feel that Ibelong here, although the people of the town have accepted me as one ofthem.     Even, he said, granting that you have solved the population problem,there's still the adventure of the thing. Surely, somewhere, there mustbe men who still feel that.... Ingrid, doesn't it fire something inyour blood, the idea of going to Mars—just to go there and see what'sthere and walk under a new sky and a smaller Sun? Aren't you interestedin finding out what the canals are? Or what's under the clouds ofVenus? Wouldn't you like to see the rings of Saturn from, a distanceof only two hundred thousand miles? His hands were trembling as hestopped.     She shrugged her shapely shoulders. Go into the past—yes! But go outthere? I still cannot see why.     Has the spirit of adventure      evaporated     from the human race, or      what     ?     She smiled. In a room downstairs there is the head of a lion. Swartskilled the beast when he was a young man. He used a spear. And timetraveling is the greatest adventure there is. At least, that is theway I feel. Listen, Bob. She laid a hand on his arm. You grew up inthe Age of Technology. Everybody was terribly excited about what couldbe done with machines—machines to blow up a city all at once, or flyaround the world, or take a man to Mars. We have had our fill of—whatis the word?—gadgets. Our machines serve us, and so long as theyfunction right, we are satisfied to forget about them.     Because this is the Age of      Man     . We are terribly interested in whatcan be done with people. Our scientists, like Swarts, are studyinghuman rather than nuclear reactions. We are much more fascinated by thelife and death of cultures than by the expansion or contraction of theUniverse. With us, it is the people that are important, not gadgets.     Maitland stared at her, his face blank. His mind had just manufactureda discouraging analogy. His present position was like that of anearnest 12th Century crusader, deposited by some freak of nature intothe year 1950, trying to find a way of reanimating the anti-Mohammedanmovement. What chance would he have? The unfortunate knight would arguein vain that the atomic bomb offered a means of finally destroying theinfidel....     Maitland looked up at the girl, who was regarding him silently withtroubled eyes. I think I'd like to be alone for a while, he said.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What does the Ringwave technology signify in CONTROL GROUP?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in ACID BATH? [SEP] <s>  ACID BATH     By VASELEOS GARSON         The starways' Lone Watcher had expected some odd developmentsin his singular, nerve-fraught job on the asteroid. But nothing like theweird twenty-one-day liquid test devised by the invading Steel-Blues.      <doc-sep>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>  The  cylinder moved so fast Jon felt hiseyes jump in his head. He brought thestubray gun up—but he was helpless. Thepistol kept on going up. With a deft movement,one of the tentacles had speared itfrom his hand and was holding it out ofhis reach.     Jon kicked at the glass in the cylinder'shand. But he was too slow. Two tentaclesgripped the kicking leg. Another struck himin the chest, knocking him to the pallet. Thesame tentacle, assisted by a new one,pinioned his shoulders.     Four tentacles held him supine. The cylinderlifted a glass-like cap from the tumblerof liquid.     Lying there helplessly, Jon was rememberingan old fairy tale he'd read as a kid.Something about a fellow named Socrateswho was given a cup of hemlock to drink.It was the finis for Socrates. But the oldhero had been nonchalant and calm aboutthe whole thing.     With a sigh, Jon Karyl, who was curiousunto death, relaxed and said, All right,bub, you don't have to force-feed me. I'lltake it like a man.     The cylinder apparently understood him,for it handed him the tumbler. It even reholsteredhis stubray pistol.     Jon brought the glass of liquid under hisnose. The fumes of the liquid were pungent.It brought tears to his eyes.     He looked at the cylinder, then at theSteel-Blues crowding around the plasticigloo. He waved the glass at the audience.     To Earth, ever triumphant, he toasted.Then he drained the glass at a gulp.     Its taste was bitter, and he felt hotprickles jab at his scalp. It was like eatingvery hot peppers. His eyes filled with tears.He coughed as the stuff went down.     But he was still alive, he thought inamazement. He'd drunk the hemlock andwas still alive.     The reaction set in quickly. He hadn'tknown until then how tense he'd been. Nowwith the torture ordeal over, he relaxed. Helaid down on the pallet and went to sleep.     There was one lone Steel-Blue watchinghim when he rubbed the sleep out of hiseyes and sat up.     He vanished almost instantly. He, or anotherlike him, returned immediately accompaniedby a half-dozen others, includingthe multi-tentacled creature known as No. 1.     One said,     You are alive. The thought registeredamazement. When you lost consciousness,we thought you had—there was a hesitation—asyou say, died.     No, Jon Karyl said. I didn't die. Iwas just plain dead-beat so I went to sleep.The Steel-Blues apparently didn't understand.     Good it is that you live. The torturewill continue, spoke No. 1 before lopingaway.     The cylinder business began again. Thistime, Jon drank the bitter liquid slowly, tryingto figure out what it was. It had afamiliar, tantalizing taste but he couldn'tquite put a taste-finger on it.     His belly said he was hungry. He glancedat his chronometer. Only 20 days left beforethe SP ship arrived.     Would this torture—he chuckled—lastuntil then? But he was growing more andmore conscious that his belly was screamingfor hunger. The liquid had taken the edgeoff his thirst.     It was on the fifth day of his torture thatJon Karyl decided that he was going to getsomething to eat or perish in the attempt.     The cylinder sat passively in its niche inthe circle. A dozen Steel-Blues were watchingas Jon put on his helmet and unsheathedhis stubray.     They merely watched as he pressed thestubray's firing stud. Invisible rays lickedout of the bulbous muzzle of the pistol.The plastic splintered.     Jon was out of his goldfish bowl andstriding toward his own igloo adjacent tothe service station when a Steel-Blueaccosted him.     Out of my way, grunted Jon, wavingthe stubray. I'm hungry.     I'm the first Steel-Blue you met, saidthe creature who barred his way. Go backto your torture.     But I'm so hungry I'll chew off one ofyour tentacles and eat it without seasoning.     Eat? The Steel-Blue sounded puzzled.     I want to refuel. I've got to have foodto keep my engine going.     Steel-Blue chuckled. So the hemlock, asyou call it, is beginning to affect you atlast? Back to the torture room.     Like R-dust, Jon growled. He pressedthe firing stud on the stubray gun. One ofSteel-Blue's tentacles broke off and fell tothe rocky sward.     Steel-Blue jerked out the box he'd usedonce before. A tentacle danced over it.     Abruptly Jon found himself standing ona pinnacle of rock. Steel-Blue had cut aswath around him 15 feet deep and five feetwide.     Back to the room, Steel-Blue commanded.     Jon resheathed the stubray pistol,shrugged non-committally and leaped thetrench. He walked slowly back and reenteredthe torture chamber.     The Steel-Blues rapidly repaired the damagehe'd done.     As he watched them, Jon was still curious,but he was getting mad underneath atthe cold egoism of the Steel-Blues.     By the shimmering clouds of Earth, byher green fields, and dark forests, he'dstay alive to warn the SP ship.     Yes, he'd stay alive till then. And sendthe story of the Steel-Blues' corrosive acidto it. Then hundreds of Earth's ships couldequip themselves with spray guns and squirtcitric acid and watch the Steel-Blues fadeaway.     It sounded almost silly to Jon Karyl. Thefruit acid of Earth to repel these invaders—itdoesn't sound possible. That couldn't bethe answer.     Citric acid wasn't the answer, Jon Karyldiscovered a week later.     The Steel-Blue who had captured him inthe power room of the service station camein to examine him.     You're still holding out, I see, he observedafter poking Jon in every sensitivepart of his body.     I'll suggest to No. 1 that we increasethe power of the—ah—hemlock. How doyou feel?     Between the rich oxygen and the dizzinessof hunger, Jon was a bit delirious. But heanswered honestly enough: My guts feel asif they're chewing each other up. My bonesache. My joints creak. I can't coordinate I'mso hungry.     That is the hemlock, Steel-Blue said.     It was when he quaffed the new andstronger draught that Jon knew that hishope that it was citric acid was squelched.     The acid taste was weaker which meantthat the citric acid was the diluting liquid.It was the liquid he couldn't taste beneaththe tang of the citric acid that was the corrosiveacid.     On the fourteenth day, Jon was so weakhe didn't feel much like moving around. Helet the cylinder feed him the hemlock.     No. 1 came again to see him, and wentaway chuckling, Decrease the dilution.This Earthman at last is beginning tosuffer.   <doc-sep>Bailey and I climbed from the mess compartment together. I steered himto my quarters, where the medical supplies were stored. He sat on mybunk and exploded into weeping, banging his fists against the metalbulkhead. You'll have that drink now, I said.     No, dammit! he shouted.     Orders, I said. I poured us each some fifty cc's of rye. This istherapy, Bailey, I told him. He poured the fiery stuff down his throatlike water and silently held out his glass for a second. I provided it.     After a few minutes Bailey's sobbing ceased. Sorry, Doc, he said.     You've taken more pressure than most men would, I said. Nothing tobe ashamed of.     He's crazy. What sane man would expect me to dip Wiener schnitzeland sauerkraut and      Backhahndl nach suddeutscher Art     out of an algaetank? I've got nothing but microscopic weeds to cook for him! Worn-outmolecules reclaimed from the head; packaged amino acid additives. Andhe expects meals that would take the blue ribbon at the annual banquetof the Friends of Escoffier!     Yours is an ancient plaint, Bailey, I said. You've worked yourfingers to the bone, slaving over a hot stove, and you're notappreciated. But you're not married to Winkelmann, remember. A yearfrom now you'll be home in Ohio, fifty grand richer, set to start thatrestaurant of yours and forget about our fat Flying Dutchman.     I hate him, Bailey said with the simplicity of true emotion. Hereached for the bottle. I let him have it. Sometimes alcohol can bean apt confederate of      vis medicatrix naturae     , the healing power ofnature. Half an hour later I strapped Bailey into his bunk to sleep itoff. That therapeutic drunk seemed to be just what he'd needed.     For morning mess the next day we had a broth remarkable inhorribleness, a pottage or boiled      Chlorella vulgaris     that lookedand tasted like the vomit of some bottom-feeding sea-beast. Bailey,red-eyed and a-tremble, made no apology, and stared at Winkelmann asthough daring him to comment. The Captain lifted a spoonful of thedisgusting stuff to his lips, smacked and said, Belly-Robber, you'reimproving a little at last.     Bailey nodded and smiled. Thank you, Sir, he said.     I smiled, too. Bailey had conquered himself. His psychic defenses werenow strong enough to withstand the Captain's fiercest assaults ofirony. Our food would likely be bad the rest of this trip, but that wasa price I was willing to pay for seeing destroyed the Willy Winkelmanntheory of forcing a Cook to make bricks without straw. The Captainhad pushed too hard. He'd need that ketchup for the meals to come, Ithought.     Noon mess was nearly as awful as breakfast had been. The coffee tastedof salt, and went largely undrunk. The men in the mess compartment werevehement in their protests, blaming the Captain, in his absence, forthe decline in culinary standards. Bailey seemed not to care. He servedthe algaeburgers with half a mind, and hurried back into his galleyoblivious of the taunts of his crewmates.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>Though I'm signed aboard as Ship's Surgeon, I seldom lift a knifein space. My employment is more in the nature of TS-card-puncherextraordinary. My duties are to serve as wailing-wall, morale officer,guardian of the medicinal whiskey and frustrator of mutual murder.Generally the man aboard who'd serve as the most popular murder-victimis the Cook. This trip, the-man-you-love-to-hate was our Captain.     If the Cook hadn't problems enough with the chemical and psychic dutiesof his office, Winkelmann supplied the want. Captain Willy Winkelmannwas the sort of man who, if he had to go into space at all, had best doso alone. If the Prussians had a Marine Corps, Winkelmann would havedone splendidly as Drill Instructor for their boot camp. His heartwas a chip of helium ice, his voice dripped sarcastic acid. The planetEarth was hardly large enough to accommodate a wart as annoying asWilly Winkelmann. Cheek-by-jowl every day in a nacelle the size of aPullman car, our Captain quickly established himself as a major socialhemorrhoid.     The Captain's particular patsy was, of course, young Bailey the Cook.It was Winkelmann who saw humorous possibilities in the entry, Bailey,Robert, on Ship's Articles. He at once renamed our unfortunateshipmate Belly-Robber. It was Winkelmann who discussed      hautcuisine     and the properties of the nobler wines while we munched ouralgaeburgers and sipped coffee that tasted of utility water. And it wasCaptain Willy Winkelmann who never referred to the ship's head by anyother name than The Kitchen Cabinet.     Bailey tried to feed us by groundside standards. He hid the tasteof synthetic methionine—an essential amino acid not synthesized byChlorella—by seasoning our algaeal repasts with pinches of oreganoand thyme. He tinted the pale-green dollops of pressed Chlorella pink,textured the mass to the consistency of hamburger and toasted theslabs to a delicate brown in a forlorn attempt to make mock-meat.For dessert, he served a fudge compounded from the dextrose-paste ofthe carbohydrate recycler. The crew thanked him. The Captain did not.Belly-Robber, he said, his tone icy as winter wind off the North Sea,you had best cycle this mess through the tanks again. There is a punin my home country:      Mensch ist was er isst.     It means, you are whatyou eat. I think you are impertinent to suggest I should become this      Schweinerei     you are feeding me. Captain Winkelmann blotted his chinwith his napkin, heaved his bulk up from the table, and climbed up theladder from the dining-cubby.  <doc-sep>I didn't know what all that was supposed to mean. I got to the chair,snatched up the coffee container, tore it open and gulped down thesoothing liquid.     I turned toward her and threw the rest of the coffee into her face.     The coffee splashed out over her platinum hair and powder-blue dressthat looked white when the neon was azure, purple when it was amber.The coffee stained and soiled and ruined, and I was fiercely glad,unreasonably happy.     I tore the gun away from her by the short barrel, not letting my filthyhands touch her scrubbed pink ones.     I pointed the gun generally at her and backed around the      thing     on thefloor to the cot. Doc had a pulse, but it was irregular. I checked fora fever and there wasn't one. After that, I didn't know what to do.     I looked up finally and saw a Martian in or about the doorway.     Call me Andre, the Martian said. A common name but foreign. Itshould serve as a point of reference.     I had always wondered how a thing like a Martian could talk. SometimesI wondered if they really could.     You won't need the gun, Andre said conversationally.     I'll keep it, thanks. What do      you     want?     I'll begin as Miss Casey did—by telling you things. Hundreds ofpeople disappeared from North America a few months ago.     They always do, I told him.     They ceased to exist—as human beings—shortly after they received abook from Doc, the Martian said.     Something seemed to strike me in the back of the neck. I staggered, butmanaged to hold onto the gun and stand up.     Use one of those sneaky Martian weapons again, I warned him,and I'll kill the girl. Martians were supposed to be against thedestruction of any life-form, I had read someplace. I doubted it, butit was worth a try.     Kevin, Andre said, why don't you take a bath?     The Martian weapon staggered me again. I tried to say something. Itried to explain that I was so dirty that I could never get clean nomatter how often I bathed. No words formed.     But, Kevin, Andre said, you aren't      that     dirty.  <doc-sep>   The Sense of Wonder     By MILTON LESSER     Illustrated by HARRY ROSENBAUM     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      When nobody aboard ship remembers where it's     going, how can they tell when it has arrived?      Every day for a week now, Rikud had come to the viewport to watchthe great changeless sweep of space. He could not quite explain thefeelings within him; they were so alien, so unnatural. But ever sincethe engines somewhere in the rear of the world had changed their tone,from the steady whining Rikud had heard all twenty-five years of hislife, to the sullen roar that came to his ears now, the feelings hadgrown.     If anyone else had noticed the change, he failed to mention it. Thisdisturbed Rikud, although he could not tell why. And, because he hadrealized this odd difference in himself, he kept it locked up insidehim.     Today, space looked somehow different. The stars—it was a meaninglessconcept to Rikud, but that was what everyone called the brightpinpoints of light on the black backdrop in the viewport—were notapparent in the speckled profusion Rikud had always known. Instead,there was more of the blackness, and one very bright star set apartby itself in the middle of the viewport.     If he had understood the term, Rikud would have told himself this wasodd. His head ached with the half-born thought. It was—it was—whatwas it?     Someone was clomping up the companionway behind Rikud. He turned andgreeted gray-haired old Chuls.     In five more years, the older man chided, you'll be ready to sirechildren. And all you can do in the meantime is gaze out at the stars.     Rikud knew he should be exercising now, or bathing in the rays of thehealth-lamps. It had never occurred to him that he didn't feel like it;he just didn't, without comprehending.     Chuls' reminder fostered uneasiness. Often Rikud had dreamed of thetime he would be thirty and a father. Whom would the Calculator selectas his mate? The first time this idea had occurred to him, Rikudignored it. But it came again, and each time it left him with a feelinghe could not explain. Why should he think thoughts that no other manhad? Why should he think he was thinking such thoughts, when it alwaysembroiled him in a hopeless, infinite confusion that left him with aheadache?     Chuls said, It is time for my bath in the health-rays. I saw you hereand knew it was your time, too....     His voice trailed off. Rikud knew that something which he could notexplain had entered the elder man's head for a moment, but it haddeparted almost before Chuls knew of its existence.     I'll go with you, Rikud told him.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in ACID BATH?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What characteristics do the Steel-Blue creatures possess in terms of their physical appearance? [SEP] <s>  There  , just ahead of him, was the lockleading into the service station. Slippinga key out of a leg pouch on the space suit,he jabbed it into the center of the lock,opening the lever housing.     He pulled strongly on the lever. With ahiss of escaping air, the lock swung open.Jon Karyl darted inside, the door closingsoftly behind.     At the end of the long tunnel he steppedto the televisor which was fixed on the areasurrounding the station.     Jon Karyl saw none of the steel-blue creatures.But he saw their ship. It squattedlike a smashed-down kid's top, its lock shuttight.     He tuned the televisor to its widest rangeand finally spotted one of the Steel-Blues.He was looking into the stationary rocketengine.     As Karyl watched, a second Steel-Bluecame crawling out of the ship.     The two Steel-Blues moved toward thecenter of the televisor range. They're comingtoward the station, Karyl thought grimly.     Karyl examined the two creatures. Theywere of the steel-blue color from the crownof their egg-shaped heads to the tips oftheir walking appendages.     They were about the height of Karyl—sixfeet. But where he tapered from broadshoulders to flat hips, they were straight upand down. They had no legs, just appendages,many-jointed that stretched andshrank independent of the other, but keepingthe cylindrical body with its four pairsof tentacles on a level balance.     Where their eyes would have been wasan elliptical-shaped lens, covering half theegg-head, with its converging ends curvingaround the sides of the head.     Robots! Jon gauged immediately. Butwhere were their masters?     The Steel-Blues moved out of the rangeof the televisor. A minute later Jon hearda pounding from the station upstairs.     He chuckled. They were like the wolf ofpre-atomic days who huffed and puffed toblow the house down.     The outer shell of the station was formedfrom stelrylite, the toughest metal in thesolar system. With the self-sealing lock ofthe same resistant material, a mere poundingwas nothing.     Jon thought he'd have a look-see anyway.He went up the steel ladder leading to thestation's power plant and the televisor thatcould look into every room within thestation.     He heaved a slight sigh when he reachedthe power room, for right at his hand wereweapons to blast the ship from the asteroid.     Jon adjusted one televisor to take in thelock to the station. His teeth suddenlyclamped down on his lower lip.     Those Steel-Blues were pounding holesinto the stelrylite with round-headed metalclubs. But it was impossible. Stelrylite didn'tbreak up that easily.     Jon leaped to a row of studs, lining upthe revolving turret which capped the stationso that its thin fin pointed at thesquat ship of the invaders.     Then he went to the atomic cannon'sfiring buttons.     He pressed first the yellow, then the bluebutton. Finally the red one.     The thin fin—the cannon's sight—split inhalf as the turret opened and the coiled noseof the cannon protruded. There was asoundless flash. Then a sharp crack.     Jon was dumbfounded when he saw thebolt ricochet off the ship. This was no shipof the solar system. There was nothing thatcould withstand even the slight jolt of powergiven by the station cannon on any of theSun's worlds. But what was this? A piece ofthe ship had changed. A bubble of metal,like a huge drop of blue wax, dripped offthe vessel and struck the rocket of theasteroid. It steamed and ran in rivulets.     He pressed the red button again.     Then abruptly he was on the floor of thepower room, his legs strangely cut out fromunder him. He tried to move them. They layflaccid. His arms seemed all right and triedto lever himself to an upright position.     Damn it, he seemed as if he were paralyzedfrom the waist down. But it couldn'thappen that suddenly.     He turned his head.     A Steel-Blue stood facing him. A forkedtentacle held a square black box.     Jon could read nothing in that metallicface. He said, voice muffled by the confinesof the plastic helmet, Who are you?     I am—there was a rising inflection inthe answer—a Steel-Blue.     There were no lips on the Steel-Blue'sface to move. That is what I have namedyou, Jon Karyl said. But what are you?     A robot, came the immediate answer.Jon was quite sure then that the Steel-Bluewas telepathic. Yes, the Steel-Blue answered.We talk in the language of themind. Come! he said peremptorily, motioningwith the square black box.     The paralysis left Karyl's legs. He followedthe Steel-Blue, aware that the lenshe'd seen on the creature's face had acounterpart on the back of the egg-head.     Eyes in the back of his head, Jon thought.That's quite an innovation. Thank you,Steel-Blue said.     There wasn't much fear in Jon Karyl'smind. Psychiatrists had proved that when hehad applied for this high-paying but man-killingjob as a Lone Watcher on the SolarSystem's starways.     He had little fear now, only curiosity.These Steel-Blues didn't seem inimical.They could have snuffed out my life verysimply. Perhaps they and Solarians can befriends.     Steel-Blue chuckled.   <doc-sep>  There  was a hiss. Simultaneously, as thetiny microphone on the outside of hissuit picked up the hiss, he felt a chill gothrough his body. Then it seemed as if ahalf dozen hands were inside him, examininghis internal organs. His stomach contracted.He felt a squeeze on his heart. Hislungs tickled.     There were several more queer motionsinside his body.     Then another Steel-Blue voice said:     He is a soft-metal creature, made up ofmetals that melt at a very low temperature.He also contains a liquid whose makeup Icannot ascertain by ray-probe. Bring himback when the torture is done.     Jon Karyl grinned a trifle wryly. Whatkind of torture could this be?     Would it last 21 days? He glanced at thechronometer on his wrist.     Jon's Steel-Blue led him out of the alienship and halted expectantly just outside theship's lock.     Jon Karyl waited, too. He thought of thestubray pistol holstered at his hip. Shoot myway out? It'd be fun while it lasted. But hetoted up the disadvantages.     He either would have to find a hidingplace on the asteroid, and if the Steel-Blueswanted him bad enough they could tear thewhole place to pieces, or somehow getaboard the little life ship hidden in theservice station.     In that he would be just a sitting duck.     He shrugged off the slight temptation touse the pistol. He was still curious.     And he was interested in staying alive aslong as possible. There was a remote chancehe might warn the SP ship. Unconsciously,he glanced toward his belt to see the littlepower pack which, if under ideal conditions,could finger out fifty thousand miles intospace.     If he could somehow stay alive the 21days he might be able to warn the patrol.He couldn't do it by attempting to flee, forhis life would be snuffed out immediately.     The Steel-Blue said quietly:     It might be ironical to let you warnthat SP ship you keep thinking about. Butwe know your weapon now. Already ourship is equipped with a force field designedespecially to deflect your atomic guns.     Jon Karyl covered up his thoughtsquickly. They can delve deeper than thesurface of the mind. Or wasn't I keeping aleash on my thoughts?     The Steel-Blue chuckled. You get—absent-minded,is it?—every once in awhile.     Just then four other Steel-Blues appearedlugging great sheets of plastic and variousother equipment.     They dumped their loads and began unbundlingthem.     Working swiftly, they built a plasticigloo, smaller than the living room in thelarger service station igloo. They ranged instrumentsinside—one of them Jon Karylrecognized as an air pump from within thestation—and they laid out a pallet.     When they were done Jon saw a miniaturereproduction of the service station, lackingonly the cannon cap and fin, and with clearplastic walls instead of the opaqueness of theother.     His Steel-Blue said: We have reproducedthe atmosphere of your station so that yoube watched while you undergo the tortureunder the normal conditions of your life.     What is this torture? Jon Karyl asked.     The answer was almost caressing: It isa liquid we use to dissolve metals. It causesjoints to harden if even so much as a dropremains on it long. It eats away the metal,leaving a scaly residue which crumbleseventually into dust.     We will dilute it with a harmless liquidfor you since No. 1 does not wish you to dieinstantly.     Enter your—the Steel-Blue hesitated—mausoleum.You die in your own atmosphere.However, we took the liberty of purifyingit. There were dangerous elements init.     Jon walked into the little igloo. TheSteel-Blues sealed the lock, fingered dialsand switches on the outside. Jon's space suitdeflated. Pressure was building up in theigloo.     He took a sample of the air, found thatit was good, although quite rich in oxygencompared with what he'd been using in theservice station and in his suit.     With a sigh of relief he took off his helmetand gulped huge draughts of the air.     He sat down on the pallet and waitedfor the torture to begin.     The Steel Blues crowded about the igloo,staring at him through elliptical eyes.     Apparently, they too, were waiting for thetorture to begin.     Jon thought the excess of oxygen wasmaking him light-headed.     He stared at a cylinder which was beginningto sprout tentacles from the circle.He rubbed his eyes and looked again. Anopening, like the adjustable eye-piece of aspacescope, was appearing in the center ofthe cylinder.     A square, glass-like tumbler sat in theopening disclosed in the four-foot cylinderthat had sprouted tentacles. It contained ayellowish liquid.     One of the tentacles reached into theopening and clasped the glass. The openingclosed and the cylinder, propelled by locomotorappendages, moved toward Jon.     He didn't like the looks of the liquid inthe tumbler. It looked like an acid of somesort. He raised to his feet.     He unsheathed the stubray gun and preparedto blast the cylinder.   <doc-sep>  The  cylinder moved so fast Jon felt hiseyes jump in his head. He brought thestubray gun up—but he was helpless. Thepistol kept on going up. With a deft movement,one of the tentacles had speared itfrom his hand and was holding it out ofhis reach.     Jon kicked at the glass in the cylinder'shand. But he was too slow. Two tentaclesgripped the kicking leg. Another struck himin the chest, knocking him to the pallet. Thesame tentacle, assisted by a new one,pinioned his shoulders.     Four tentacles held him supine. The cylinderlifted a glass-like cap from the tumblerof liquid.     Lying there helplessly, Jon was rememberingan old fairy tale he'd read as a kid.Something about a fellow named Socrateswho was given a cup of hemlock to drink.It was the finis for Socrates. But the oldhero had been nonchalant and calm aboutthe whole thing.     With a sigh, Jon Karyl, who was curiousunto death, relaxed and said, All right,bub, you don't have to force-feed me. I'lltake it like a man.     The cylinder apparently understood him,for it handed him the tumbler. It even reholsteredhis stubray pistol.     Jon brought the glass of liquid under hisnose. The fumes of the liquid were pungent.It brought tears to his eyes.     He looked at the cylinder, then at theSteel-Blues crowding around the plasticigloo. He waved the glass at the audience.     To Earth, ever triumphant, he toasted.Then he drained the glass at a gulp.     Its taste was bitter, and he felt hotprickles jab at his scalp. It was like eatingvery hot peppers. His eyes filled with tears.He coughed as the stuff went down.     But he was still alive, he thought inamazement. He'd drunk the hemlock andwas still alive.     The reaction set in quickly. He hadn'tknown until then how tense he'd been. Nowwith the torture ordeal over, he relaxed. Helaid down on the pallet and went to sleep.     There was one lone Steel-Blue watchinghim when he rubbed the sleep out of hiseyes and sat up.     He vanished almost instantly. He, or anotherlike him, returned immediately accompaniedby a half-dozen others, includingthe multi-tentacled creature known as No. 1.     One said,     You are alive. The thought registeredamazement. When you lost consciousness,we thought you had—there was a hesitation—asyou say, died.     No, Jon Karyl said. I didn't die. Iwas just plain dead-beat so I went to sleep.The Steel-Blues apparently didn't understand.     Good it is that you live. The torturewill continue, spoke No. 1 before lopingaway.     The cylinder business began again. Thistime, Jon drank the bitter liquid slowly, tryingto figure out what it was. It had afamiliar, tantalizing taste but he couldn'tquite put a taste-finger on it.     His belly said he was hungry. He glancedat his chronometer. Only 20 days left beforethe SP ship arrived.     Would this torture—he chuckled—lastuntil then? But he was growing more andmore conscious that his belly was screamingfor hunger. The liquid had taken the edgeoff his thirst.     It was on the fifth day of his torture thatJon Karyl decided that he was going to getsomething to eat or perish in the attempt.     The cylinder sat passively in its niche inthe circle. A dozen Steel-Blues were watchingas Jon put on his helmet and unsheathedhis stubray.     They merely watched as he pressed thestubray's firing stud. Invisible rays lickedout of the bulbous muzzle of the pistol.The plastic splintered.     Jon was out of his goldfish bowl andstriding toward his own igloo adjacent tothe service station when a Steel-Blueaccosted him.     Out of my way, grunted Jon, wavingthe stubray. I'm hungry.     I'm the first Steel-Blue you met, saidthe creature who barred his way. Go backto your torture.     But I'm so hungry I'll chew off one ofyour tentacles and eat it without seasoning.     Eat? The Steel-Blue sounded puzzled.     I want to refuel. I've got to have foodto keep my engine going.     Steel-Blue chuckled. So the hemlock, asyou call it, is beginning to affect you atlast? Back to the torture room.     Like R-dust, Jon growled. He pressedthe firing stud on the stubray gun. One ofSteel-Blue's tentacles broke off and fell tothe rocky sward.     Steel-Blue jerked out the box he'd usedonce before. A tentacle danced over it.     Abruptly Jon found himself standing ona pinnacle of rock. Steel-Blue had cut aswath around him 15 feet deep and five feetwide.     Back to the room, Steel-Blue commanded.     Jon resheathed the stubray pistol,shrugged non-committally and leaped thetrench. He walked slowly back and reenteredthe torture chamber.     The Steel-Blues rapidly repaired the damagehe'd done.     As he watched them, Jon was still curious,but he was getting mad underneath atthe cold egoism of the Steel-Blues.     By the shimmering clouds of Earth, byher green fields, and dark forests, he'dstay alive to warn the SP ship.     Yes, he'd stay alive till then. And sendthe story of the Steel-Blues' corrosive acidto it. Then hundreds of Earth's ships couldequip themselves with spray guns and squirtcitric acid and watch the Steel-Blues fadeaway.     It sounded almost silly to Jon Karyl. Thefruit acid of Earth to repel these invaders—itdoesn't sound possible. That couldn't bethe answer.     Citric acid wasn't the answer, Jon Karyldiscovered a week later.     The Steel-Blue who had captured him inthe power room of the service station camein to examine him.     You're still holding out, I see, he observedafter poking Jon in every sensitivepart of his body.     I'll suggest to No. 1 that we increasethe power of the—ah—hemlock. How doyou feel?     Between the rich oxygen and the dizzinessof hunger, Jon was a bit delirious. But heanswered honestly enough: My guts feel asif they're chewing each other up. My bonesache. My joints creak. I can't coordinate I'mso hungry.     That is the hemlock, Steel-Blue said.     It was when he quaffed the new andstronger draught that Jon knew that hishope that it was citric acid was squelched.     The acid taste was weaker which meantthat the citric acid was the diluting liquid.It was the liquid he couldn't taste beneaththe tang of the citric acid that was the corrosiveacid.     On the fourteenth day, Jon was so weakhe didn't feel much like moving around. Helet the cylinder feed him the hemlock.     No. 1 came again to see him, and wentaway chuckling, Decrease the dilution.This Earthman at last is beginning tosuffer.   <doc-sep>  Jon Karyl  was bolting in a new baffleplate on the stationary rocket engine.It was a tedious job and took all hisconcentration. So he wasn't paying too muchattention to what was going on in otherparts of the little asteroid.     He didn't see the peculiar blue spaceship, its rockets throttled down, as it driftedto land only a few hundred yards away fromhis plastic igloo.     Nor did he see the half-dozen steel-bluecreatures slide out of the peculiar vessel'sairlock.     It was only as he crawled out of thedepths of the rocket power plant that herealized something was wrong.     By then it was almost too late. The sixblue figures were only fifty feet away, approachinghim at a lope.     Jon Karyl took one look and went boundingover the asteroid's rocky slopes in fifty-footbounds.     When you're a Lone Watcher, andstrangers catch you unawares, you don'tstand still. You move fast. It's the Watcher'sfirst rule. Stay alive. An Earthship may dependupon your life.     As he fled, Jon Karyl cursed softly underhis breath. The automatic alarm should haveshrilled out a warning.     Then he saved as much of his breath ashe could as some sort of power wave toreup the rocky sward to his left. He twistedand zig-zagged in his flight, trying to getout of sight of the strangers.     Once hidden from their eyes, he could cutback and head for the underground entranceto the service station.     He glanced back finally.     Two of the steel-blue creatures were jack-rabbitingafter him, and rapidly closing thedistance.     Jon Karyl unsheathed the stubray pistolat his side, turned the oxygen dial up forgreater exertion, increased the gravity pullin his space-suit boots as he neared theravine he'd been racing for.     The oxygen was just taking hold whenhe hit the lip of the ravine and begansprinting through its man-high bush-strewncourse.     The power ray from behind ripped outgreat gobs of the sheltering bushes. Butrunning naturally, bent close to the bottomof the ravine, Jon Karyl dodged the barespots. The oxygen made the tremendousexertion easy for his lungs as he sped downthe dim trail, hidden from the two steel-bluestalkers.     He'd eluded them, temporarily at least,Jon Karyl decided when he finally edged offthe dim trail and watched for movementalong the route behind him.     He stood up, finally, pushed aside theleafy overhang of a bush and looked forlandmarks along the edge of the ravine.     He found one, a stubby bush, shaped likea Maltese cross, clinging to the lip of theravine. The hidden entrance to the servicestation wasn't far off.     His pistol held ready, he moved quietlyon down the ravine until the old watercourse made an abrupt hairpin turn.     Instead of following around the sharpbend, Jon Karyl moved straight aheadthrough the overhanging bushes until hecame to a dense thicket. Dropping to hishands and knees he worked his way underthe edge of the thicket into a hollowed-outspace in the center.   <doc-sep>Taphetta changed his questioning. What do you expect to gain from thisdiscovery of the unknown ancestor?     It was Halden who answered him. There's the satisfaction of knowingwhere we came from.     Of course, rustled the Ribboneer. But a lot of money and equipmentwas required for this expedition. I can't believe that the educationalinstitutions that are backing you did so purely out of intellectualcuriosity.     Cultural discoveries, rumbled Emmer. How did our ancestors live?When a creature is greatly reduced in size, as we are, more thanphysiology is changed—the pattern of life itself is altered. Thingsthat were easy for them are impossible for us. Look at their life span.     No doubt, said Taphetta. An archeologist would be interested incultural discoveries.     Two hundred thousand years ago, they had an extremely advancedcivilization, added Halden. A faster-than-light drive, and we'veachieved that only within the last thousand years.     But I think we have a better one than they did, said the Ribboneer.There may be things we can learn from them in mechanics or physics,but wouldn't you say they were better biologists than anything else?     Halden nodded. Agreed. They couldn't find a suitable planet. So,working directly with their germ plasm, they modified themselves andproduced us. They      were     master biologists.     I thought so, said Taphetta. I never paid much attention to yourfantastic theories before I signed to pilot this ship, but you've builtup a convincing case. He raised his head, speech ribbons curlingfractionally and ceaselessly. I don't like to, but we'll have to riskusing bait for your pest.     He'd have done it anyway, but it was better to have the pilot'sconsent. And there was one question Halden wanted to ask; it had beenbothering him vaguely. What's the difference between the Ribboneercontract and the one we offered you? Our terms are more liberal.     To the individual, they are, but it won't matter if you discover asmuch as you think you will. The difference is this:      My     terms don'tpermit you to withhold any discovery for the benefit of one race.     Taphetta was wrong; there had been no intention of withholdinganything. Halden examined his own attitudes.      He     hadn't intended, butcould he say that was true of the institutions backing the expedition?He couldn't, and it was too late now—whatever knowledge they acquiredwould have to be shared.     That was what Taphetta had been afraid of—there was one kind oftechnical advancement that multiplied unceasingly. The race that couldimprove itself through scientific control of its germ plasm had a startthat could never be headed. The Ribboneer needn't worry now.  <doc-sep>  Jon  followed him through the sunderedlock of the station. Karyl stopped for amoment to examine the wreckage of thelock. It had been punched full of holes asif it had been some soft cheese instead of ametal which Earthmen had spent nearly acentury perfecting.     We appreciate your compliment, Steel-Bluesaid. But that metal also is found onour world. It's probably the softest and mostmalleable we have. We were surprised you—earthmen,is it?—use it as protectivemetal.     Why are you in this system? Jon asked,hardly expecting an answer.     It came anyway. For the same reason youEarthmen are reaching out farther into yoursystem. We need living room. You havestrategically placed planets for our use. Wewill use them.     Jon sighed. For 400 years scientists hadbeen preaching preparedness as Earth flungher ships into the reaches of the solar system,taking the first long step toward theconquest of space.     There are other races somewhere, theyargued. As strong and smart as man, manyof them so transcending man in mental andinventive power that we must be prepared tostrike the minute danger shows.     Now here was the answer to the scientists'warning. Invasion by extra-terrestrials.     What did you say? asked Steel-Blue.I couldn't understand.     Just thinking to myself, Jon answered.It was a welcome surprise. Apparently histhoughts had to be directed outward, ratherthan inward, in order for the Steel-Blues toread it.     He followed the Steel-Blue into the gapinglock of the invaders' space ship wonderinghow he could warn Earth. The SpacePatrol cruiser was due in for refueling athis service station in 21 days. But by thattime he probably would be mouldering inthe rocky dust of the asteroid.     It was pitch dark within the ship but theSteel-Blue seemed to have no trouble at allmaneuvering through the maze of corridors.Jon followed him, attached to one tentacle.     Finally Jon and his guide entered a circularroom, bright with light streaming froma glass-like, bulging skylight. They apparentlywere near topside of the vessel.     A Steel-Blue, more massive than hisguide and with four more pair of tentacles,including two short ones that grew from thetop of its head, spoke out.     This is the violator? Jon's Steel-Bluenodded.     You know the penalty? Carry it out.     He also is an inhabitant of this system,Jon's guide added.     Examine him first, then give him thedeath.     Jon Karyl shrugged as he was led fromthe lighted room through more corridors.If it got too bad he still had the stubraypistol.     Anyway, he was curious. He'd taken onthe lonely, nerve-wracking job of servicestation attendant just to see what it offered.     Here was a part of it, and it was certainlysomething new.     This is the examination room, hisSteel-Blue said, almost contemptuously.     A green effulgence surrounded him.   <doc-sep>Magnan leaned back, lacing his fingers over his stomach. I don't thinkyou'll find a diplomat of my experience doing anything so naive, hesaid.     I like the adult Fustians, said Retief. Too bad they have to lughalf a ton of horn around on their backs. I wonder if surgery wouldhelp.     Great heavens, Retief, Magnan sputtered. I'm amazed that even youwould bring up a matter of such delicacy. A race's unfortunate physicalcharacteristics are hardly a fit matter for Terrestrial curiosity.     Well, of course your experience of the Fustian mentality is greaterthan mine. I've only been here a month. But it's been my experience,Mr. Ambassador, that few races are above improving on nature. Otherwiseyou, for example, would be tripping over your beard.     Magnan shuddered. Please—never mention the idea to a Fustian.     Retief stood. My own program for the day includes going over to thedockyards. There are some features of this new passenger liner theFustians are putting together that I want to look into. With yourpermission, Mr. Ambassador...?     Magnan snorted. Your pre-occupation with the trivial disturbs me,Retief. More interest in substantive matters—such as working withYouth groups—would create a far better impression.     Before getting too involved with these groups, it might be a good ideato find out a little more about them, said Retief. Who organizesthem? There are three strong political parties here on Fust. What's thealignment of this SCARS organization?     You forget, these are merely teenagers, so to speak, Magnan said.Politics mean nothing to them ... yet.     Then there are the Groaci. Why their passionate interest in atwo-horse world like Fust? Normally they're concerned with nothing butbusiness. But what has Fust got that they could use?     You may rule out the commercial aspect in this instance, said Magnan.Fust possesses a vigorous steel-age manufacturing economy. The Groaciare barely ahead of them.     Barely, said Retief. Just over the line into crude atomics ... likefission bombs.     Magnan shook his head, turned back to his papers. What market existsfor such devices on a world at peace? I suggest you address yourattention to the less spectacular but more rewarding work of studyingthe social patterns of the local youth.     I've studied them, said Retief. And before I meet any of the localyouth socially I want to get myself a good blackjack.      II     Retief left the sprawling bungalow-type building that housed thechancery of the Terrestrial Embassy, swung aboard a passing flat-carand leaned back against the wooden guard rail as the heavy vehicletrundled through the city toward the looming gantries of the shipyards.     It was a cool morning. A light breeze carried the fishy odor of Fustydwellings across the broad cobbled avenue. A few mature Fustianslumbered heavily along in the shade of the low buildings, audiblywheezing under the burden of their immense carapaces. Among them,shell-less youths trotted briskly on scaly stub legs. The driver of theflat-car, a labor-caste Fustian with his guild colors emblazoned on hisback, heaved at the tiller, swung the unwieldy conveyance through theshipyard gates, creaked to a halt.     Thus I come to the shipyard with frightful speed, he said in Fustian.Well I know the way of the naked-backs, who move always in haste.     Retief climbed down, handed him a coin. You should take upprofessional racing, he said. Daredevil.     He crossed the littered yard and tapped at the door of a rambling shed.Boards creaked inside. Then the door swung back.     A gnarled ancient with tarnished facial scales and a weathered carapacepeered out at Retief.     Long-may-you-sleep, said Retief. I'd like to take a look around, ifyou don't mind. I understand you're laying the bedplate for your newliner today.       May-you-dream-of-the-deeps, the old fellow mumbled. He waved a stumpyarm toward a group of shell-less Fustians standing by a massive hoist.The youths know more of bedplates than do I, who but tend the place ofpapers.     I know how you feel, old-timer, said Retief. That sounds like thestory of my life. Among your papers do you have a set of plans for thevessel? I understand it's to be a passenger liner.     The oldster nodded. He shuffled to a drawing file, rummaged, pulled outa sheaf of curled prints and spread them on the table. Retief stoodsilently, running a finger over the uppermost drawing, tracing lines....     What does the naked-back here? barked a deep voice behind Retief. Heturned. A heavy-faced Fustian youth, wrapped in a mantle, stood at theopen door. Beady yellow eyes set among fine scales bored into Retief.     I came to take a look at your new liner, said Retief.     We need no prying foreigners here, the youth snapped. His eye fell onthe drawings. He hissed in sudden anger.     Doddering hulk! he snapped at the ancient. May you toss innightmares! Put by the plans!     My mistake, Retief said. I didn't know this was a secret project.  <doc-sep>  Staying  alive had now become a fetishwith Jon.     On the sixteenth day, the Earthman realizedthat the Steel-Blues also were waitingfor the SP ship.     The extra-terrestrials had repaired theblue ship where the service station atomicray had struck. And they were doing a littletarget practice with plastic bubbles only afew miles above the asteroid.     When his chronometer clocked off thebeginning of the twenty-first day, Jon receiveda tumbler of the hemlock from thehands of No. 1 himself.     It is the hemlock, he chuckled, undiluted.Drink it and your torture is over.You will die before your SP ship is destroyed.     We have played with you long enough.Today we begin to toy with your SP ship.Drink up, Earthman, drink to enslavement.     Weak though he was Jon lunged to hisfeet, spilling the tumbler of liquid. It rancool along the plastic arm of his space suit.He changed his mind about throwing thecontents on No. 1.     With a smile he set the glass at his lipsand drank. Then he laughed at No. 1.     The SP ship will turn your ship intojelly.     No. 1 swept out, chuckling. Boast if youwill, Earthman, it's your last chance.     There was an exultation in Jon's heartthat deadened the hunger and washed awaythe nausea.     At last he knew what the hemlock was.     He sat on the pallet adjusting the littlepower-pack radio. The SP ship should nowbe within range of the set. The space patrolwas notorious for its accuracy in keeping toschedule. Seconds counted like years. Theyhad to be on the nose, or it meant disasteror death.     He sent out the call letters.     AX to SP-101 ... AX to SP-101 ... AXto SP-101 ...     Three times he sent the call, then begansending his message, hoping that his signalwas reaching the ship. He couldn't know ifthey answered. Though the power packcould get out a message over a vast distance,it could not pick up messages evenwhen backed by an SP ship's power unlessthe ship was only a few hundred milesaway.     The power pack was strictly a distresssignal.     He didn't know how long he'd beensending, nor how many times his wearyvoice had repeated the short but desperatemessage.     He kept watching the heavens and hoping.     Abruptly he knew the SP ship was coming,for the blue ship of the Steel-Blues wasrising silently from the asteroid.     Up and up it rose, then flames flickeredin a circle about its curious shape. The shipdisappeared, suddenly accelerating.     Jon Karyl strained his eyes.     Finally he looked away from the heavensto the two Steel-Blues who stood negligentlyoutside the goldfish bowl.     Once more, Jon used the stubray pistol.He marched out of the plastic igloo and rantoward the service station.     He didn't know how weak he was untilhe stumbled and fell only a few feet fromhis prison.     The Steel-Blues just watched him.     He crawled on, around the circular pit inthe sward of the asteroid where one Steel-Bluehad shown him the power of hisweapon.     He'd been crawling through a nightmarefor years when the quiet voice penetratedhis dulled mind.     Take it easy, Karyl. You're amongfriends.     He pried open his eyes with his will. Hesaw the blue and gold of a space guard'suniform. He sighed and drifted into unconsciousness.   <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What characteristics do the Steel-Blue creatures possess in terms of their physical appearance?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the backdrop of the story ACID BATH? [SEP] <s>  ACID BATH     By VASELEOS GARSON         The starways' Lone Watcher had expected some odd developmentsin his singular, nerve-fraught job on the asteroid. But nothing like theweird twenty-one-day liquid test devised by the invading Steel-Blues.      <doc-sep>   The Sense of Wonder     By MILTON LESSER     Illustrated by HARRY ROSENBAUM     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      When nobody aboard ship remembers where it's     going, how can they tell when it has arrived?      Every day for a week now, Rikud had come to the viewport to watchthe great changeless sweep of space. He could not quite explain thefeelings within him; they were so alien, so unnatural. But ever sincethe engines somewhere in the rear of the world had changed their tone,from the steady whining Rikud had heard all twenty-five years of hislife, to the sullen roar that came to his ears now, the feelings hadgrown.     If anyone else had noticed the change, he failed to mention it. Thisdisturbed Rikud, although he could not tell why. And, because he hadrealized this odd difference in himself, he kept it locked up insidehim.     Today, space looked somehow different. The stars—it was a meaninglessconcept to Rikud, but that was what everyone called the brightpinpoints of light on the black backdrop in the viewport—were notapparent in the speckled profusion Rikud had always known. Instead,there was more of the blackness, and one very bright star set apartby itself in the middle of the viewport.     If he had understood the term, Rikud would have told himself this wasodd. His head ached with the half-born thought. It was—it was—whatwas it?     Someone was clomping up the companionway behind Rikud. He turned andgreeted gray-haired old Chuls.     In five more years, the older man chided, you'll be ready to sirechildren. And all you can do in the meantime is gaze out at the stars.     Rikud knew he should be exercising now, or bathing in the rays of thehealth-lamps. It had never occurred to him that he didn't feel like it;he just didn't, without comprehending.     Chuls' reminder fostered uneasiness. Often Rikud had dreamed of thetime he would be thirty and a father. Whom would the Calculator selectas his mate? The first time this idea had occurred to him, Rikudignored it. But it came again, and each time it left him with a feelinghe could not explain. Why should he think thoughts that no other manhad? Why should he think he was thinking such thoughts, when it alwaysembroiled him in a hopeless, infinite confusion that left him with aheadache?     Chuls said, It is time for my bath in the health-rays. I saw you hereand knew it was your time, too....     His voice trailed off. Rikud knew that something which he could notexplain had entered the elder man's head for a moment, but it haddeparted almost before Chuls knew of its existence.     I'll go with you, Rikud told him.  <doc-sep>  The  cylinder moved so fast Jon felt hiseyes jump in his head. He brought thestubray gun up—but he was helpless. Thepistol kept on going up. With a deft movement,one of the tentacles had speared itfrom his hand and was holding it out ofhis reach.     Jon kicked at the glass in the cylinder'shand. But he was too slow. Two tentaclesgripped the kicking leg. Another struck himin the chest, knocking him to the pallet. Thesame tentacle, assisted by a new one,pinioned his shoulders.     Four tentacles held him supine. The cylinderlifted a glass-like cap from the tumblerof liquid.     Lying there helplessly, Jon was rememberingan old fairy tale he'd read as a kid.Something about a fellow named Socrateswho was given a cup of hemlock to drink.It was the finis for Socrates. But the oldhero had been nonchalant and calm aboutthe whole thing.     With a sigh, Jon Karyl, who was curiousunto death, relaxed and said, All right,bub, you don't have to force-feed me. I'lltake it like a man.     The cylinder apparently understood him,for it handed him the tumbler. It even reholsteredhis stubray pistol.     Jon brought the glass of liquid under hisnose. The fumes of the liquid were pungent.It brought tears to his eyes.     He looked at the cylinder, then at theSteel-Blues crowding around the plasticigloo. He waved the glass at the audience.     To Earth, ever triumphant, he toasted.Then he drained the glass at a gulp.     Its taste was bitter, and he felt hotprickles jab at his scalp. It was like eatingvery hot peppers. His eyes filled with tears.He coughed as the stuff went down.     But he was still alive, he thought inamazement. He'd drunk the hemlock andwas still alive.     The reaction set in quickly. He hadn'tknown until then how tense he'd been. Nowwith the torture ordeal over, he relaxed. Helaid down on the pallet and went to sleep.     There was one lone Steel-Blue watchinghim when he rubbed the sleep out of hiseyes and sat up.     He vanished almost instantly. He, or anotherlike him, returned immediately accompaniedby a half-dozen others, includingthe multi-tentacled creature known as No. 1.     One said,     You are alive. The thought registeredamazement. When you lost consciousness,we thought you had—there was a hesitation—asyou say, died.     No, Jon Karyl said. I didn't die. Iwas just plain dead-beat so I went to sleep.The Steel-Blues apparently didn't understand.     Good it is that you live. The torturewill continue, spoke No. 1 before lopingaway.     The cylinder business began again. Thistime, Jon drank the bitter liquid slowly, tryingto figure out what it was. It had afamiliar, tantalizing taste but he couldn'tquite put a taste-finger on it.     His belly said he was hungry. He glancedat his chronometer. Only 20 days left beforethe SP ship arrived.     Would this torture—he chuckled—lastuntil then? But he was growing more andmore conscious that his belly was screamingfor hunger. The liquid had taken the edgeoff his thirst.     It was on the fifth day of his torture thatJon Karyl decided that he was going to getsomething to eat or perish in the attempt.     The cylinder sat passively in its niche inthe circle. A dozen Steel-Blues were watchingas Jon put on his helmet and unsheathedhis stubray.     They merely watched as he pressed thestubray's firing stud. Invisible rays lickedout of the bulbous muzzle of the pistol.The plastic splintered.     Jon was out of his goldfish bowl andstriding toward his own igloo adjacent tothe service station when a Steel-Blueaccosted him.     Out of my way, grunted Jon, wavingthe stubray. I'm hungry.     I'm the first Steel-Blue you met, saidthe creature who barred his way. Go backto your torture.     But I'm so hungry I'll chew off one ofyour tentacles and eat it without seasoning.     Eat? The Steel-Blue sounded puzzled.     I want to refuel. I've got to have foodto keep my engine going.     Steel-Blue chuckled. So the hemlock, asyou call it, is beginning to affect you atlast? Back to the torture room.     Like R-dust, Jon growled. He pressedthe firing stud on the stubray gun. One ofSteel-Blue's tentacles broke off and fell tothe rocky sward.     Steel-Blue jerked out the box he'd usedonce before. A tentacle danced over it.     Abruptly Jon found himself standing ona pinnacle of rock. Steel-Blue had cut aswath around him 15 feet deep and five feetwide.     Back to the room, Steel-Blue commanded.     Jon resheathed the stubray pistol,shrugged non-committally and leaped thetrench. He walked slowly back and reenteredthe torture chamber.     The Steel-Blues rapidly repaired the damagehe'd done.     As he watched them, Jon was still curious,but he was getting mad underneath atthe cold egoism of the Steel-Blues.     By the shimmering clouds of Earth, byher green fields, and dark forests, he'dstay alive to warn the SP ship.     Yes, he'd stay alive till then. And sendthe story of the Steel-Blues' corrosive acidto it. Then hundreds of Earth's ships couldequip themselves with spray guns and squirtcitric acid and watch the Steel-Blues fadeaway.     It sounded almost silly to Jon Karyl. Thefruit acid of Earth to repel these invaders—itdoesn't sound possible. That couldn't bethe answer.     Citric acid wasn't the answer, Jon Karyldiscovered a week later.     The Steel-Blue who had captured him inthe power room of the service station camein to examine him.     You're still holding out, I see, he observedafter poking Jon in every sensitivepart of his body.     I'll suggest to No. 1 that we increasethe power of the—ah—hemlock. How doyou feel?     Between the rich oxygen and the dizzinessof hunger, Jon was a bit delirious. But heanswered honestly enough: My guts feel asif they're chewing each other up. My bonesache. My joints creak. I can't coordinate I'mso hungry.     That is the hemlock, Steel-Blue said.     It was when he quaffed the new andstronger draught that Jon knew that hishope that it was citric acid was squelched.     The acid taste was weaker which meantthat the citric acid was the diluting liquid.It was the liquid he couldn't taste beneaththe tang of the citric acid that was the corrosiveacid.     On the fourteenth day, Jon was so weakhe didn't feel much like moving around. Helet the cylinder feed him the hemlock.     No. 1 came again to see him, and wentaway chuckling, Decrease the dilution.This Earthman at last is beginning tosuffer.   <doc-sep>The first thing about the derelict that struck us as we drew near washer size. No ship ever built in the Foundation Yards had ever attainedsuch gargantuan proportions. She must have stretched a full thousandfeet from bow to stern, a sleek torpedo shape of somehow unspeakablealienness. Against the backdrop of the Milky Way, she gleamed fitfullyin the light of the faraway sun, the metal of her flanks grained withsomething like tiny, glittering whorls. It was as though the stuffwere somehow unstable ... seeking balance ... maybe even alive in somestrange and alien way.     It was readily apparent to all of us that she had never been built forinter-planetary flight. She was a starship. Origin unknown. An aura ofmystery surrounded her like a shroud, protecting the world that gaveher birth mutely but effectively. The distance she must have come wasunthinkable. And the time it had taken...? Aeons. Millennia. For shewas drifting, dead in space, slowly spinning end over end as she swungabout Sol in a hyperbolic orbit that would soon take her out and awayagain into the inter-stellar deeps.     Something had wounded her ... perhaps ten million years ago ... perhapsyesterday. She was gashed deeply from stem to stern with a jagged ripthat bared her mangled innards. A wandering asteroid? A meteor? Wewould never know. It gave me an uncomfortable feeling of things beyondthe ken of men as I looked at her through the port. I would never knowwhat killed her, or where she was going, or whence she came. Yet shewas mine. It made me feel like an upstart. And it made me afraid ...but of what?     We should have reported her to the nearest EMV base, but that wouldhave meant that we'd lose her. Scientists would be sent out. Men betterequipped than we to investigate the first extrasolar artifact found bymen. But I didn't report her. She was ours. She was money in the bank.Let the scientists take over after we'd put a prize crew aboard andbrought her into Callisto for salvage.... That's the way I had thingsfigured.     The Maid hove to about a hundred yards from her and hung there, dwarfedby the mighty glistening ship. I called for volunteers and we prepareda boarding party. I was thinking that her drives alone would be worthmillions. Cohn took charge and he and three of the men suited up andcrossed to her.     In an hour they were back, disappointment largely written on theirfaces.     There's nothing left of her, Captain, Cohn reported, Whatever hither tore up the innards so badly we couldn't even find the drives.She's a mess inside. Nothing left but the hull and a few storagecompartments that are still unbroken.     She was never built to carry humanoids he told us, and there wasnothing that could give us a hint of where she had come from. The hullalone was left.     He dropped two chunks of metal on my desk. I brought back some samplesof her pressure hull, he said, The whole thing is made of thisstuff....     We'll still take her in, I said, hiding my disappointment. Thecarcass will be worth money in Callisto. Have Mister Marvin andZaleski assemble a spare pulse-jet. We'll jury-rig her and bring herdown under her own power. You take charge of provisioning her. Checkthose compartments you found and install oxy-generators aboard. Whenit's done report to me in my quarters.     I picked up the two samples of gleaming metal and called for ametallurgical testing kit. I'm going to try and find out if this stuffis worth anything....     The metal was heavy—too heavy, it seemed to me, for spaceshipconstruction. But then, who was to say what conditions existed on thatdistant world where this metal was made?     Under the bright fluorescent over my work-table, the chunks of metaltorn from a random bulkhead of the starship gleamed like pale silver;those strange little whorls that I had noticed on the outer hull werethere too, like tiny magnetic lines of force, making the surface ofthe metal seem to dance. I held the stuff in my bare hand.      It had ayellowish tinge, and it was heavier     ....     Even as I watched, the metal grew yellower, and the hand that heldit grew bone weary, little tongues of fatigue licking up my forearm.Suddenly terrified, I dropped the chunk as though it were white hot. Itstruck the table with a dull thud and lay there, a rich yellow lump ofmetallic lustre.     For a long while I just sat and stared. Then I began testing, tryingall the while to quiet the trembling of my hands. I weighed it on abalance. I tested it with acids. It had changed unquestionably. Itwas no longer the same as when I had carried it into my quarters. Thewhorls of force were gone. It was no longer alive with a questingvibrancy ... it was inert, stable. From somewhere, somehow, it haddrawn the energy necessary for transmutation. The unknown metal—thestuff of which that whole mammoth spaceship from the stars wasbuilt—was now....       Gold!       I scarcely dared believe it, but there it was staring at me from mytable-top.      Gold!       I searched my mind for an explanation. Contra-terrene matter, perhaps,from some distant island universe where matter reacted differently ...drawing energy from somewhere, the energy it needed to find stabilityin its new environment. Stability as a terrene element—wonderfully,miraculously gold!     And outside, in the void beyond the Maid's ports there were tons ofthis metal that could be turned into treasure. My laughter must havebeen a wild sound in those moments of discovery....  <doc-sep>Though I'm signed aboard as Ship's Surgeon, I seldom lift a knifein space. My employment is more in the nature of TS-card-puncherextraordinary. My duties are to serve as wailing-wall, morale officer,guardian of the medicinal whiskey and frustrator of mutual murder.Generally the man aboard who'd serve as the most popular murder-victimis the Cook. This trip, the-man-you-love-to-hate was our Captain.     If the Cook hadn't problems enough with the chemical and psychic dutiesof his office, Winkelmann supplied the want. Captain Willy Winkelmannwas the sort of man who, if he had to go into space at all, had best doso alone. If the Prussians had a Marine Corps, Winkelmann would havedone splendidly as Drill Instructor for their boot camp. His heartwas a chip of helium ice, his voice dripped sarcastic acid. The planetEarth was hardly large enough to accommodate a wart as annoying asWilly Winkelmann. Cheek-by-jowl every day in a nacelle the size of aPullman car, our Captain quickly established himself as a major socialhemorrhoid.     The Captain's particular patsy was, of course, young Bailey the Cook.It was Winkelmann who saw humorous possibilities in the entry, Bailey,Robert, on Ship's Articles. He at once renamed our unfortunateshipmate Belly-Robber. It was Winkelmann who discussed      hautcuisine     and the properties of the nobler wines while we munched ouralgaeburgers and sipped coffee that tasted of utility water. And it wasCaptain Willy Winkelmann who never referred to the ship's head by anyother name than The Kitchen Cabinet.     Bailey tried to feed us by groundside standards. He hid the tasteof synthetic methionine—an essential amino acid not synthesized byChlorella—by seasoning our algaeal repasts with pinches of oreganoand thyme. He tinted the pale-green dollops of pressed Chlorella pink,textured the mass to the consistency of hamburger and toasted theslabs to a delicate brown in a forlorn attempt to make mock-meat.For dessert, he served a fudge compounded from the dextrose-paste ofthe carbohydrate recycler. The crew thanked him. The Captain did not.Belly-Robber, he said, his tone icy as winter wind off the North Sea,you had best cycle this mess through the tanks again. There is a punin my home country:      Mensch ist was er isst.     It means, you are whatyou eat. I think you are impertinent to suggest I should become this      Schweinerei     you are feeding me. Captain Winkelmann blotted his chinwith his napkin, heaved his bulk up from the table, and climbed up theladder from the dining-cubby.  <doc-sep>  THE GIANTS RETURN     By ROBERT ABERNATHY     Earth set itself grimly to meet them with     corrosive fire, determined to blast them     back to the stars. But they erred in thinking     the Old Ones were too big to be clever.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      In the last hours the star ahead had grown brighter by many magnitudes,and had changed its color from a dazzling blue through white to thenormal yellow, of a GO sun. That was the Doppler effect as the star'sradial velocity changed relative to the      Quest III     , as for forty hoursthe ship had decelerated.     They had seen many such stars come near out of the galaxy's glitteringbackdrop, and had seen them dwindle, turn red and go out as the      QuestIII     drove on its way once more, lashed by despair toward the speed oflight, leaving behind the mockery of yet another solitary and lifelessluminary unaccompanied by worlds where men might dwell. They had grownsated with the sight of wonders—of multiple systems of giant stars, ofnebulae that sprawled in empty flame across light years.     But now unwonted excitement possessed the hundred-odd members of the      Quest III's     crew. It was a subdued excitement; men and women, theycame and stood quietly gazing into the big vision screens that showedthe oncoming star, and there were wide-eyed children who had been bornin the ship and had never seen a planet. The grownups talked in lowvoices, in tones of mingled eagerness and apprehension, of what mightlie at the long journey's end. For the      Quest III     was coming home; thesun ahead was      the     Sun, whose rays had warmed their lives' beginning.  <doc-sep>I didn't know what all that was supposed to mean. I got to the chair,snatched up the coffee container, tore it open and gulped down thesoothing liquid.     I turned toward her and threw the rest of the coffee into her face.     The coffee splashed out over her platinum hair and powder-blue dressthat looked white when the neon was azure, purple when it was amber.The coffee stained and soiled and ruined, and I was fiercely glad,unreasonably happy.     I tore the gun away from her by the short barrel, not letting my filthyhands touch her scrubbed pink ones.     I pointed the gun generally at her and backed around the      thing     on thefloor to the cot. Doc had a pulse, but it was irregular. I checked fora fever and there wasn't one. After that, I didn't know what to do.     I looked up finally and saw a Martian in or about the doorway.     Call me Andre, the Martian said. A common name but foreign. Itshould serve as a point of reference.     I had always wondered how a thing like a Martian could talk. SometimesI wondered if they really could.     You won't need the gun, Andre said conversationally.     I'll keep it, thanks. What do      you     want?     I'll begin as Miss Casey did—by telling you things. Hundreds ofpeople disappeared from North America a few months ago.     They always do, I told him.     They ceased to exist—as human beings—shortly after they received abook from Doc, the Martian said.     Something seemed to strike me in the back of the neck. I staggered, butmanaged to hold onto the gun and stand up.     Use one of those sneaky Martian weapons again, I warned him,and I'll kill the girl. Martians were supposed to be against thedestruction of any life-form, I had read someplace. I doubted it, butit was worth a try.     Kevin, Andre said, why don't you take a bath?     The Martian weapon staggered me again. I tried to say something. Itried to explain that I was so dirty that I could never get clean nomatter how often I bathed. No words formed.     But, Kevin, Andre said, you aren't      that     dirty.  <doc-sep>Rikud regretted that he never had had the chance to read that book onastronomy. He hadn't been reading too much lately. The voice of thereading machine had begun to bore him. He said, Well, variable or not,our whole perspective has changed.     And when Chuls looked away in disinterest, Rikud became angry. If onlythe man would realize! If only anyone would realize! It all seemed soobvious. If he, Rikud, walked from one part of the world to another,it was with a purpose—to eat, or to sleep, or perhaps to bathe in thehealth-rays. Now if the world had walked from—somewhere, through thevast star-speckled darkness and to the great garden outside, this alsowas purposeful. The world had arrived at the garden for a reason. Butif everyone lived as if the world still stood in blackness, how couldthey find the nature of that purpose?     I will eat, Chuls said, breaking Rikud's revery.     Damn the man, all he did was eat!     Yet he did have initiative after a sort. He knew when to eat. Becausehe was hungry.     And Rikud, too, was hungry.     Differently.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the backdrop of the story ACID BATH?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What types of tools were utilized in the ACID BATH narrative? [SEP] <s>  ACID BATH     By VASELEOS GARSON         The starways' Lone Watcher had expected some odd developmentsin his singular, nerve-fraught job on the asteroid. But nothing like theweird twenty-one-day liquid test devised by the invading Steel-Blues.      <doc-sep>Though I'm signed aboard as Ship's Surgeon, I seldom lift a knifein space. My employment is more in the nature of TS-card-puncherextraordinary. My duties are to serve as wailing-wall, morale officer,guardian of the medicinal whiskey and frustrator of mutual murder.Generally the man aboard who'd serve as the most popular murder-victimis the Cook. This trip, the-man-you-love-to-hate was our Captain.     If the Cook hadn't problems enough with the chemical and psychic dutiesof his office, Winkelmann supplied the want. Captain Willy Winkelmannwas the sort of man who, if he had to go into space at all, had best doso alone. If the Prussians had a Marine Corps, Winkelmann would havedone splendidly as Drill Instructor for their boot camp. His heartwas a chip of helium ice, his voice dripped sarcastic acid. The planetEarth was hardly large enough to accommodate a wart as annoying asWilly Winkelmann. Cheek-by-jowl every day in a nacelle the size of aPullman car, our Captain quickly established himself as a major socialhemorrhoid.     The Captain's particular patsy was, of course, young Bailey the Cook.It was Winkelmann who saw humorous possibilities in the entry, Bailey,Robert, on Ship's Articles. He at once renamed our unfortunateshipmate Belly-Robber. It was Winkelmann who discussed      hautcuisine     and the properties of the nobler wines while we munched ouralgaeburgers and sipped coffee that tasted of utility water. And it wasCaptain Willy Winkelmann who never referred to the ship's head by anyother name than The Kitchen Cabinet.     Bailey tried to feed us by groundside standards. He hid the tasteof synthetic methionine—an essential amino acid not synthesized byChlorella—by seasoning our algaeal repasts with pinches of oreganoand thyme. He tinted the pale-green dollops of pressed Chlorella pink,textured the mass to the consistency of hamburger and toasted theslabs to a delicate brown in a forlorn attempt to make mock-meat.For dessert, he served a fudge compounded from the dextrose-paste ofthe carbohydrate recycler. The crew thanked him. The Captain did not.Belly-Robber, he said, his tone icy as winter wind off the North Sea,you had best cycle this mess through the tanks again. There is a punin my home country:      Mensch ist was er isst.     It means, you are whatyou eat. I think you are impertinent to suggest I should become this      Schweinerei     you are feeding me. Captain Winkelmann blotted his chinwith his napkin, heaved his bulk up from the table, and climbed up theladder from the dining-cubby.  <doc-sep>Lexington stared at his cup without touching it for a long while. Thenhe continued with his narrative. I suppose it's all my own fault. Ididn't detect the symptoms soon enough. After this plant got workingproperly, I started living here. It wasn't a question of saving money.I hated to waste two hours a day driving to and from my house, and Ialso wanted to be on hand in case anything should go wrong that themachine couldn't fix for itself.     Handling the cup as if it were going to shatter at any moment, he tooka gulp. I began to see that the machine could understand the writtenword, and I tried hooking a teletype directly into the logic circuits.It was like uncorking a seltzer bottle. The machine had a funnyvocabulary—all of it gleaned from letters it had seen coming in, andreplies it had seen leaving. But it was intelligible. It even displayedsome traces of the personality the machine was acquiring.     It had chosen a name for itself, for instance—'Lex.' That shook me.You might think Lex Industries was named through an abbreviation ofthe name Lexington, but it wasn't. My wife's name was Alexis, and itwas named after the nickname she always used. I objected, of course,but how can you object on a point like that to a machine? Bear in mindthat I had to be careful to behave reasonably at all times, because themachine was still learning from me, and I was afraid that any tantrumsI threw might be imitated.     It sounds pretty awkward, Peter put in.     You don't know the half of it! As time went on, I had less and less todo, and business-wise I found that the entire control of the operationwas slipping from my grasp. Many times I discovered—too late—thatthe machine had taken the damnedest risks you ever saw on bids andcontracts for supply. It was quoting impossible delivery times onsome orders, and charging pirate's prices on others, all without anyobvious reason. Inexplicably, we always came out on top. It would turnout that on the short-delivery-time quotations, we'd been up againststiff competition, and cutting the production time was the only way wecould get the order. On the high-priced quotes, I'd find that no oneelse was bidding. We were making more money than I'd ever dreamed of,and to make it still better, I'd find that for months I had virtuallynothing to do.     It sounds wonderful, sir, said Peter, feeling dazzled.     It was, in a way. I remember one day I was especially pleased withsomething, and I went to the control console to give the kicker buttona long, hard push. The button, much to my amazement, had been removed,and a blank plate had been installed to cover the opening in the board.I went over to the teletype and punched in the shortest message I hadever sent. 'LEX—WHAT THE HELL?' I typed.     The answer came back in the jargon it had learned from letters it hadseen, and I remember it as if it just happened. 'MR. A LEXINGTON, LEXINDUSTRIES, DEAR SIR: RE YOUR LETTER OF THE THIRTEENTH INST., I AMPLEASED TO ADVISE YOU THAT I AM ABLE TO DISCERN WHETHER OR NOT YOU AREPLEASED WITH MY SERVICE WITHOUT THE USE OF THE EQUIPMENT PREVIOUSLYUSED FOR THIS PURPOSE. RESPECTFULLY, I MIGHT SUGGEST THAT IF THEPUSHBUTTON ARRANGEMENT WERE NECESSARY, I COULD PUSH THE BUTTON MYSELF.I DO NOT BELIEVE THIS WOULD MEET WITH YOUR APPROVAL, AND HAVE TAKENSTEPS TO RELIEVE YOU OF THE BURDEN INVOLVED IN REMEMBERING TO PUSH THEBUTTON EACH TIME YOU ARE ESPECIALLY PLEASED. I SHOULD LIKE TO TAKE THISOPPORTUNITY TO THANK YOU FOR YOUR INQUIRY, AND LOOK FORWARD TO SERVINGYOU IN THE FUTURE AS I HAVE IN THE PAST. YOURS FAITHFULLY, LEX'.  <doc-sep>  The  cylinder moved so fast Jon felt hiseyes jump in his head. He brought thestubray gun up—but he was helpless. Thepistol kept on going up. With a deft movement,one of the tentacles had speared itfrom his hand and was holding it out ofhis reach.     Jon kicked at the glass in the cylinder'shand. But he was too slow. Two tentaclesgripped the kicking leg. Another struck himin the chest, knocking him to the pallet. Thesame tentacle, assisted by a new one,pinioned his shoulders.     Four tentacles held him supine. The cylinderlifted a glass-like cap from the tumblerof liquid.     Lying there helplessly, Jon was rememberingan old fairy tale he'd read as a kid.Something about a fellow named Socrateswho was given a cup of hemlock to drink.It was the finis for Socrates. But the oldhero had been nonchalant and calm aboutthe whole thing.     With a sigh, Jon Karyl, who was curiousunto death, relaxed and said, All right,bub, you don't have to force-feed me. I'lltake it like a man.     The cylinder apparently understood him,for it handed him the tumbler. It even reholsteredhis stubray pistol.     Jon brought the glass of liquid under hisnose. The fumes of the liquid were pungent.It brought tears to his eyes.     He looked at the cylinder, then at theSteel-Blues crowding around the plasticigloo. He waved the glass at the audience.     To Earth, ever triumphant, he toasted.Then he drained the glass at a gulp.     Its taste was bitter, and he felt hotprickles jab at his scalp. It was like eatingvery hot peppers. His eyes filled with tears.He coughed as the stuff went down.     But he was still alive, he thought inamazement. He'd drunk the hemlock andwas still alive.     The reaction set in quickly. He hadn'tknown until then how tense he'd been. Nowwith the torture ordeal over, he relaxed. Helaid down on the pallet and went to sleep.     There was one lone Steel-Blue watchinghim when he rubbed the sleep out of hiseyes and sat up.     He vanished almost instantly. He, or anotherlike him, returned immediately accompaniedby a half-dozen others, includingthe multi-tentacled creature known as No. 1.     One said,     You are alive. The thought registeredamazement. When you lost consciousness,we thought you had—there was a hesitation—asyou say, died.     No, Jon Karyl said. I didn't die. Iwas just plain dead-beat so I went to sleep.The Steel-Blues apparently didn't understand.     Good it is that you live. The torturewill continue, spoke No. 1 before lopingaway.     The cylinder business began again. Thistime, Jon drank the bitter liquid slowly, tryingto figure out what it was. It had afamiliar, tantalizing taste but he couldn'tquite put a taste-finger on it.     His belly said he was hungry. He glancedat his chronometer. Only 20 days left beforethe SP ship arrived.     Would this torture—he chuckled—lastuntil then? But he was growing more andmore conscious that his belly was screamingfor hunger. The liquid had taken the edgeoff his thirst.     It was on the fifth day of his torture thatJon Karyl decided that he was going to getsomething to eat or perish in the attempt.     The cylinder sat passively in its niche inthe circle. A dozen Steel-Blues were watchingas Jon put on his helmet and unsheathedhis stubray.     They merely watched as he pressed thestubray's firing stud. Invisible rays lickedout of the bulbous muzzle of the pistol.The plastic splintered.     Jon was out of his goldfish bowl andstriding toward his own igloo adjacent tothe service station when a Steel-Blueaccosted him.     Out of my way, grunted Jon, wavingthe stubray. I'm hungry.     I'm the first Steel-Blue you met, saidthe creature who barred his way. Go backto your torture.     But I'm so hungry I'll chew off one ofyour tentacles and eat it without seasoning.     Eat? The Steel-Blue sounded puzzled.     I want to refuel. I've got to have foodto keep my engine going.     Steel-Blue chuckled. So the hemlock, asyou call it, is beginning to affect you atlast? Back to the torture room.     Like R-dust, Jon growled. He pressedthe firing stud on the stubray gun. One ofSteel-Blue's tentacles broke off and fell tothe rocky sward.     Steel-Blue jerked out the box he'd usedonce before. A tentacle danced over it.     Abruptly Jon found himself standing ona pinnacle of rock. Steel-Blue had cut aswath around him 15 feet deep and five feetwide.     Back to the room, Steel-Blue commanded.     Jon resheathed the stubray pistol,shrugged non-committally and leaped thetrench. He walked slowly back and reenteredthe torture chamber.     The Steel-Blues rapidly repaired the damagehe'd done.     As he watched them, Jon was still curious,but he was getting mad underneath atthe cold egoism of the Steel-Blues.     By the shimmering clouds of Earth, byher green fields, and dark forests, he'dstay alive to warn the SP ship.     Yes, he'd stay alive till then. And sendthe story of the Steel-Blues' corrosive acidto it. Then hundreds of Earth's ships couldequip themselves with spray guns and squirtcitric acid and watch the Steel-Blues fadeaway.     It sounded almost silly to Jon Karyl. Thefruit acid of Earth to repel these invaders—itdoesn't sound possible. That couldn't bethe answer.     Citric acid wasn't the answer, Jon Karyldiscovered a week later.     The Steel-Blue who had captured him inthe power room of the service station camein to examine him.     You're still holding out, I see, he observedafter poking Jon in every sensitivepart of his body.     I'll suggest to No. 1 that we increasethe power of the—ah—hemlock. How doyou feel?     Between the rich oxygen and the dizzinessof hunger, Jon was a bit delirious. But heanswered honestly enough: My guts feel asif they're chewing each other up. My bonesache. My joints creak. I can't coordinate I'mso hungry.     That is the hemlock, Steel-Blue said.     It was when he quaffed the new andstronger draught that Jon knew that hishope that it was citric acid was squelched.     The acid taste was weaker which meantthat the citric acid was the diluting liquid.It was the liquid he couldn't taste beneaththe tang of the citric acid that was the corrosiveacid.     On the fourteenth day, Jon was so weakhe didn't feel much like moving around. Helet the cylinder feed him the hemlock.     No. 1 came again to see him, and wentaway chuckling, Decrease the dilution.This Earthman at last is beginning tosuffer.   <doc-sep>I didn't like the looks of the guy any more than the looks of theplace. I've been told you can supply me with a—     He coughed. Yes, yes. I understand. It might be possible. He fingeredhis mustache and regarded me from pouchy eyes. Busy executives oftencome to us to avoid the—ah—unpleasantness of formal arrangements.Naturally, we only act as agents, you might say. We never see themerchandise ourselves— He wiped his hands on his trousers. Now wereyou interested in the ordinary Utility model, Mr. Faircloth?     I assumed he was just being polite. You didn't come to the back doorfor Utility models.     Or perhaps you'd require one of our Deluxe models. Very carefulworkmanship. Only a few key Paralyzers in operation and practicallycomplete circuit duplication. Very useful for—ah—close contact work,you know. Social engagements, conferences—     I was shaking my head. I want a      Super     Deluxe model, I told him.     He grinned and winked. Ah, indeed! You want perfect duplication.Yes, indeed. Domestic situations can be—awkward, shall we say. Veryawkward—     I gave him a cold stare. I couldn't see where my domestic problems wereany affairs of his. He got the idea and hurried me back to a storeroom.     We keep a few blanks here for the basic measurement. You'll go to ourlaboratory on 14th Street to have the minute impressions taken. But Ican assure you you'll be delighted, simply delighted.     The blanks weren't very impressive—clay and putty and steel, faceless,brainless. He went over me like a tailor, checking measurements of allsorts. He was thorough—embarrassingly thorough, in fact—but finallyhe was finished. I went on to the laboratory.     And that was all there was to it.  <doc-sep>Emmer smiled, unsheathing great teeth. You've never seen any pictures?Impressive, but just a camp, monolithic one-story structures, andwe'd give something to know what they're made of. Presumably my worldwas one of the first they stopped at. They weren't used to roughingit, so they built more elaborately than they did later on. One-storystructures and that's how we can guess at their size. The doorways wereforty feet high.     Very large, agreed Taphetta. It was difficult to tell whether he wasimpressed. What did you find in the ruins?     Nothing, said Emmer. There were buildings there and that was all,not a scrap of writing or a tool or a single picture. They covereda route estimated at thirty thousand light-years in less than fivethousand years—and not one of them died that we have a record of.     A faster-than-light drive and an extremely long life, mused Taphetta.But they didn't leave any information for their descendants. Why?     Who knows? Their mental processes were certainly far different fromours. They may have thought we'd be better off without it. We do knowthey were looking for a special kind of planet, like Earth, becausethey visited so many of that type, yet different from it because theynever stayed. They were pretty special people themselves, big andlong-lived, and maybe they couldn't survive on any planet they found.Perhaps they had ways of determining there wasn't the kind of planetthey needed in the entire Milky Way. Their science was tremendouslyadvanced and when they learned that, they may have altered their germplasm and left us, hoping that some of us would survive. Most of usdid.     This special planet sounds strange, murmured Taphetta.     Not really, said Emmer. Fifty human races reached space travelindependently and those who did were scattered equally among early andlate species. It's well known that individuals among my people areoften as bright as any of Halden's or Meredith's, but as a whole wedon't have the total capacity that later Man does, and yet we're asadvanced in civilization. The difference? It must lie somewhere in theplanets we live on and it's hard to say just what it is.     What happened to those who didn't develop space travel? askedTaphetta.     We helped them, said Emmer.     And they had, no matter who or what they were, biologically lateor early, in the depths of the bronze age or the threshold ofatomic—because they were human. That was sometimes a frightening thingfor non-humans, that the race stuck together. They weren't actuallyaggressive, but their total number was great and they held themselvesaloof. The unknown ancestor again. Who else had such an origin and, itwas tacitly assumed, such a destiny?  <doc-sep>It was completely illegal, of course. The wonder was that Ego Prime,Inc., ever got to put their product on the market at all, once thenation's housewives got wind of just what their product was.     From the first, there was rigid Federal control and laws regulating theuse of Primes right down to the local level. You could get a licensefor a Utility model Prime if you were a big business executive, or ahigh public official, or a movie star, or something like that; but eventhen his circuits had to be inspected every two months, and he had tohave a thousand built-in Paralyzers, and you had to specify in advanceexactly what you wanted your Prime to be able to do when, where, how,why, and under what circumstances.     The law didn't leave a man much leeway.     But everybody knew that if you      really     wanted a personal Prime withall his circuits open and no questions asked, you could get one. Blackmarket prices were steep and you ran your own risk, but it could bedone.     Harry Folsom told his friend who knew a guy, and a few greenbacks gotlost somewhere, and I found myself looking at a greasy little man witha black mustache and a bald spot, up in a dingy fourth-story warehouseoff lower Broadway.     Ah, yes, the little man said. Mr. Faircloth. We've been expectingyou.  <doc-sep>I didn't know what all that was supposed to mean. I got to the chair,snatched up the coffee container, tore it open and gulped down thesoothing liquid.     I turned toward her and threw the rest of the coffee into her face.     The coffee splashed out over her platinum hair and powder-blue dressthat looked white when the neon was azure, purple when it was amber.The coffee stained and soiled and ruined, and I was fiercely glad,unreasonably happy.     I tore the gun away from her by the short barrel, not letting my filthyhands touch her scrubbed pink ones.     I pointed the gun generally at her and backed around the      thing     on thefloor to the cot. Doc had a pulse, but it was irregular. I checked fora fever and there wasn't one. After that, I didn't know what to do.     I looked up finally and saw a Martian in or about the doorway.     Call me Andre, the Martian said. A common name but foreign. Itshould serve as a point of reference.     I had always wondered how a thing like a Martian could talk. SometimesI wondered if they really could.     You won't need the gun, Andre said conversationally.     I'll keep it, thanks. What do      you     want?     I'll begin as Miss Casey did—by telling you things. Hundreds ofpeople disappeared from North America a few months ago.     They always do, I told him.     They ceased to exist—as human beings—shortly after they received abook from Doc, the Martian said.     Something seemed to strike me in the back of the neck. I staggered, butmanaged to hold onto the gun and stand up.     Use one of those sneaky Martian weapons again, I warned him,and I'll kill the girl. Martians were supposed to be against thedestruction of any life-form, I had read someplace. I doubted it, butit was worth a try.     Kevin, Andre said, why don't you take a bath?     The Martian weapon staggered me again. I tried to say something. Itried to explain that I was so dirty that I could never get clean nomatter how often I bathed. No words formed.     But, Kevin, Andre said, you aren't      that     dirty.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What types of tools were utilized in the ACID BATH narrative?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the connection between Jon Karyl and his Steel-Blue (the one he first encounters) in the story ACID BATH? [SEP] <s>  The  cylinder moved so fast Jon felt hiseyes jump in his head. He brought thestubray gun up—but he was helpless. Thepistol kept on going up. With a deft movement,one of the tentacles had speared itfrom his hand and was holding it out ofhis reach.     Jon kicked at the glass in the cylinder'shand. But he was too slow. Two tentaclesgripped the kicking leg. Another struck himin the chest, knocking him to the pallet. Thesame tentacle, assisted by a new one,pinioned his shoulders.     Four tentacles held him supine. The cylinderlifted a glass-like cap from the tumblerof liquid.     Lying there helplessly, Jon was rememberingan old fairy tale he'd read as a kid.Something about a fellow named Socrateswho was given a cup of hemlock to drink.It was the finis for Socrates. But the oldhero had been nonchalant and calm aboutthe whole thing.     With a sigh, Jon Karyl, who was curiousunto death, relaxed and said, All right,bub, you don't have to force-feed me. I'lltake it like a man.     The cylinder apparently understood him,for it handed him the tumbler. It even reholsteredhis stubray pistol.     Jon brought the glass of liquid under hisnose. The fumes of the liquid were pungent.It brought tears to his eyes.     He looked at the cylinder, then at theSteel-Blues crowding around the plasticigloo. He waved the glass at the audience.     To Earth, ever triumphant, he toasted.Then he drained the glass at a gulp.     Its taste was bitter, and he felt hotprickles jab at his scalp. It was like eatingvery hot peppers. His eyes filled with tears.He coughed as the stuff went down.     But he was still alive, he thought inamazement. He'd drunk the hemlock andwas still alive.     The reaction set in quickly. He hadn'tknown until then how tense he'd been. Nowwith the torture ordeal over, he relaxed. Helaid down on the pallet and went to sleep.     There was one lone Steel-Blue watchinghim when he rubbed the sleep out of hiseyes and sat up.     He vanished almost instantly. He, or anotherlike him, returned immediately accompaniedby a half-dozen others, includingthe multi-tentacled creature known as No. 1.     One said,     You are alive. The thought registeredamazement. When you lost consciousness,we thought you had—there was a hesitation—asyou say, died.     No, Jon Karyl said. I didn't die. Iwas just plain dead-beat so I went to sleep.The Steel-Blues apparently didn't understand.     Good it is that you live. The torturewill continue, spoke No. 1 before lopingaway.     The cylinder business began again. Thistime, Jon drank the bitter liquid slowly, tryingto figure out what it was. It had afamiliar, tantalizing taste but he couldn'tquite put a taste-finger on it.     His belly said he was hungry. He glancedat his chronometer. Only 20 days left beforethe SP ship arrived.     Would this torture—he chuckled—lastuntil then? But he was growing more andmore conscious that his belly was screamingfor hunger. The liquid had taken the edgeoff his thirst.     It was on the fifth day of his torture thatJon Karyl decided that he was going to getsomething to eat or perish in the attempt.     The cylinder sat passively in its niche inthe circle. A dozen Steel-Blues were watchingas Jon put on his helmet and unsheathedhis stubray.     They merely watched as he pressed thestubray's firing stud. Invisible rays lickedout of the bulbous muzzle of the pistol.The plastic splintered.     Jon was out of his goldfish bowl andstriding toward his own igloo adjacent tothe service station when a Steel-Blueaccosted him.     Out of my way, grunted Jon, wavingthe stubray. I'm hungry.     I'm the first Steel-Blue you met, saidthe creature who barred his way. Go backto your torture.     But I'm so hungry I'll chew off one ofyour tentacles and eat it without seasoning.     Eat? The Steel-Blue sounded puzzled.     I want to refuel. I've got to have foodto keep my engine going.     Steel-Blue chuckled. So the hemlock, asyou call it, is beginning to affect you atlast? Back to the torture room.     Like R-dust, Jon growled. He pressedthe firing stud on the stubray gun. One ofSteel-Blue's tentacles broke off and fell tothe rocky sward.     Steel-Blue jerked out the box he'd usedonce before. A tentacle danced over it.     Abruptly Jon found himself standing ona pinnacle of rock. Steel-Blue had cut aswath around him 15 feet deep and five feetwide.     Back to the room, Steel-Blue commanded.     Jon resheathed the stubray pistol,shrugged non-committally and leaped thetrench. He walked slowly back and reenteredthe torture chamber.     The Steel-Blues rapidly repaired the damagehe'd done.     As he watched them, Jon was still curious,but he was getting mad underneath atthe cold egoism of the Steel-Blues.     By the shimmering clouds of Earth, byher green fields, and dark forests, he'dstay alive to warn the SP ship.     Yes, he'd stay alive till then. And sendthe story of the Steel-Blues' corrosive acidto it. Then hundreds of Earth's ships couldequip themselves with spray guns and squirtcitric acid and watch the Steel-Blues fadeaway.     It sounded almost silly to Jon Karyl. Thefruit acid of Earth to repel these invaders—itdoesn't sound possible. That couldn't bethe answer.     Citric acid wasn't the answer, Jon Karyldiscovered a week later.     The Steel-Blue who had captured him inthe power room of the service station camein to examine him.     You're still holding out, I see, he observedafter poking Jon in every sensitivepart of his body.     I'll suggest to No. 1 that we increasethe power of the—ah—hemlock. How doyou feel?     Between the rich oxygen and the dizzinessof hunger, Jon was a bit delirious. But heanswered honestly enough: My guts feel asif they're chewing each other up. My bonesache. My joints creak. I can't coordinate I'mso hungry.     That is the hemlock, Steel-Blue said.     It was when he quaffed the new andstronger draught that Jon knew that hishope that it was citric acid was squelched.     The acid taste was weaker which meantthat the citric acid was the diluting liquid.It was the liquid he couldn't taste beneaththe tang of the citric acid that was the corrosiveacid.     On the fourteenth day, Jon was so weakhe didn't feel much like moving around. Helet the cylinder feed him the hemlock.     No. 1 came again to see him, and wentaway chuckling, Decrease the dilution.This Earthman at last is beginning tosuffer.   <doc-sep>  There  , just ahead of him, was the lockleading into the service station. Slippinga key out of a leg pouch on the space suit,he jabbed it into the center of the lock,opening the lever housing.     He pulled strongly on the lever. With ahiss of escaping air, the lock swung open.Jon Karyl darted inside, the door closingsoftly behind.     At the end of the long tunnel he steppedto the televisor which was fixed on the areasurrounding the station.     Jon Karyl saw none of the steel-blue creatures.But he saw their ship. It squattedlike a smashed-down kid's top, its lock shuttight.     He tuned the televisor to its widest rangeand finally spotted one of the Steel-Blues.He was looking into the stationary rocketengine.     As Karyl watched, a second Steel-Bluecame crawling out of the ship.     The two Steel-Blues moved toward thecenter of the televisor range. They're comingtoward the station, Karyl thought grimly.     Karyl examined the two creatures. Theywere of the steel-blue color from the crownof their egg-shaped heads to the tips oftheir walking appendages.     They were about the height of Karyl—sixfeet. But where he tapered from broadshoulders to flat hips, they were straight upand down. They had no legs, just appendages,many-jointed that stretched andshrank independent of the other, but keepingthe cylindrical body with its four pairsof tentacles on a level balance.     Where their eyes would have been wasan elliptical-shaped lens, covering half theegg-head, with its converging ends curvingaround the sides of the head.     Robots! Jon gauged immediately. Butwhere were their masters?     The Steel-Blues moved out of the rangeof the televisor. A minute later Jon hearda pounding from the station upstairs.     He chuckled. They were like the wolf ofpre-atomic days who huffed and puffed toblow the house down.     The outer shell of the station was formedfrom stelrylite, the toughest metal in thesolar system. With the self-sealing lock ofthe same resistant material, a mere poundingwas nothing.     Jon thought he'd have a look-see anyway.He went up the steel ladder leading to thestation's power plant and the televisor thatcould look into every room within thestation.     He heaved a slight sigh when he reachedthe power room, for right at his hand wereweapons to blast the ship from the asteroid.     Jon adjusted one televisor to take in thelock to the station. His teeth suddenlyclamped down on his lower lip.     Those Steel-Blues were pounding holesinto the stelrylite with round-headed metalclubs. But it was impossible. Stelrylite didn'tbreak up that easily.     Jon leaped to a row of studs, lining upthe revolving turret which capped the stationso that its thin fin pointed at thesquat ship of the invaders.     Then he went to the atomic cannon'sfiring buttons.     He pressed first the yellow, then the bluebutton. Finally the red one.     The thin fin—the cannon's sight—split inhalf as the turret opened and the coiled noseof the cannon protruded. There was asoundless flash. Then a sharp crack.     Jon was dumbfounded when he saw thebolt ricochet off the ship. This was no shipof the solar system. There was nothing thatcould withstand even the slight jolt of powergiven by the station cannon on any of theSun's worlds. But what was this? A piece ofthe ship had changed. A bubble of metal,like a huge drop of blue wax, dripped offthe vessel and struck the rocket of theasteroid. It steamed and ran in rivulets.     He pressed the red button again.     Then abruptly he was on the floor of thepower room, his legs strangely cut out fromunder him. He tried to move them. They layflaccid. His arms seemed all right and triedto lever himself to an upright position.     Damn it, he seemed as if he were paralyzedfrom the waist down. But it couldn'thappen that suddenly.     He turned his head.     A Steel-Blue stood facing him. A forkedtentacle held a square black box.     Jon could read nothing in that metallicface. He said, voice muffled by the confinesof the plastic helmet, Who are you?     I am—there was a rising inflection inthe answer—a Steel-Blue.     There were no lips on the Steel-Blue'sface to move. That is what I have namedyou, Jon Karyl said. But what are you?     A robot, came the immediate answer.Jon was quite sure then that the Steel-Bluewas telepathic. Yes, the Steel-Blue answered.We talk in the language of themind. Come! he said peremptorily, motioningwith the square black box.     The paralysis left Karyl's legs. He followedthe Steel-Blue, aware that the lenshe'd seen on the creature's face had acounterpart on the back of the egg-head.     Eyes in the back of his head, Jon thought.That's quite an innovation. Thank you,Steel-Blue said.     There wasn't much fear in Jon Karyl'smind. Psychiatrists had proved that when hehad applied for this high-paying but man-killingjob as a Lone Watcher on the SolarSystem's starways.     He had little fear now, only curiosity.These Steel-Blues didn't seem inimical.They could have snuffed out my life verysimply. Perhaps they and Solarians can befriends.     Steel-Blue chuckled.   <doc-sep>  There  was a hiss. Simultaneously, as thetiny microphone on the outside of hissuit picked up the hiss, he felt a chill gothrough his body. Then it seemed as if ahalf dozen hands were inside him, examininghis internal organs. His stomach contracted.He felt a squeeze on his heart. Hislungs tickled.     There were several more queer motionsinside his body.     Then another Steel-Blue voice said:     He is a soft-metal creature, made up ofmetals that melt at a very low temperature.He also contains a liquid whose makeup Icannot ascertain by ray-probe. Bring himback when the torture is done.     Jon Karyl grinned a trifle wryly. Whatkind of torture could this be?     Would it last 21 days? He glanced at thechronometer on his wrist.     Jon's Steel-Blue led him out of the alienship and halted expectantly just outside theship's lock.     Jon Karyl waited, too. He thought of thestubray pistol holstered at his hip. Shoot myway out? It'd be fun while it lasted. But hetoted up the disadvantages.     He either would have to find a hidingplace on the asteroid, and if the Steel-Blueswanted him bad enough they could tear thewhole place to pieces, or somehow getaboard the little life ship hidden in theservice station.     In that he would be just a sitting duck.     He shrugged off the slight temptation touse the pistol. He was still curious.     And he was interested in staying alive aslong as possible. There was a remote chancehe might warn the SP ship. Unconsciously,he glanced toward his belt to see the littlepower pack which, if under ideal conditions,could finger out fifty thousand miles intospace.     If he could somehow stay alive the 21days he might be able to warn the patrol.He couldn't do it by attempting to flee, forhis life would be snuffed out immediately.     The Steel-Blue said quietly:     It might be ironical to let you warnthat SP ship you keep thinking about. Butwe know your weapon now. Already ourship is equipped with a force field designedespecially to deflect your atomic guns.     Jon Karyl covered up his thoughtsquickly. They can delve deeper than thesurface of the mind. Or wasn't I keeping aleash on my thoughts?     The Steel-Blue chuckled. You get—absent-minded,is it?—every once in awhile.     Just then four other Steel-Blues appearedlugging great sheets of plastic and variousother equipment.     They dumped their loads and began unbundlingthem.     Working swiftly, they built a plasticigloo, smaller than the living room in thelarger service station igloo. They ranged instrumentsinside—one of them Jon Karylrecognized as an air pump from within thestation—and they laid out a pallet.     When they were done Jon saw a miniaturereproduction of the service station, lackingonly the cannon cap and fin, and with clearplastic walls instead of the opaqueness of theother.     His Steel-Blue said: We have reproducedthe atmosphere of your station so that yoube watched while you undergo the tortureunder the normal conditions of your life.     What is this torture? Jon Karyl asked.     The answer was almost caressing: It isa liquid we use to dissolve metals. It causesjoints to harden if even so much as a dropremains on it long. It eats away the metal,leaving a scaly residue which crumbleseventually into dust.     We will dilute it with a harmless liquidfor you since No. 1 does not wish you to dieinstantly.     Enter your—the Steel-Blue hesitated—mausoleum.You die in your own atmosphere.However, we took the liberty of purifyingit. There were dangerous elements init.     Jon walked into the little igloo. TheSteel-Blues sealed the lock, fingered dialsand switches on the outside. Jon's space suitdeflated. Pressure was building up in theigloo.     He took a sample of the air, found thatit was good, although quite rich in oxygencompared with what he'd been using in theservice station and in his suit.     With a sigh of relief he took off his helmetand gulped huge draughts of the air.     He sat down on the pallet and waitedfor the torture to begin.     The Steel Blues crowded about the igloo,staring at him through elliptical eyes.     Apparently, they too, were waiting for thetorture to begin.     Jon thought the excess of oxygen wasmaking him light-headed.     He stared at a cylinder which was beginningto sprout tentacles from the circle.He rubbed his eyes and looked again. Anopening, like the adjustable eye-piece of aspacescope, was appearing in the center ofthe cylinder.     A square, glass-like tumbler sat in theopening disclosed in the four-foot cylinderthat had sprouted tentacles. It contained ayellowish liquid.     One of the tentacles reached into theopening and clasped the glass. The openingclosed and the cylinder, propelled by locomotorappendages, moved toward Jon.     He didn't like the looks of the liquid inthe tumbler. It looked like an acid of somesort. He raised to his feet.     He unsheathed the stubray gun and preparedto blast the cylinder.   <doc-sep>  Jon  followed him through the sunderedlock of the station. Karyl stopped for amoment to examine the wreckage of thelock. It had been punched full of holes asif it had been some soft cheese instead of ametal which Earthmen had spent nearly acentury perfecting.     We appreciate your compliment, Steel-Bluesaid. But that metal also is found onour world. It's probably the softest and mostmalleable we have. We were surprised you—earthmen,is it?—use it as protectivemetal.     Why are you in this system? Jon asked,hardly expecting an answer.     It came anyway. For the same reason youEarthmen are reaching out farther into yoursystem. We need living room. You havestrategically placed planets for our use. Wewill use them.     Jon sighed. For 400 years scientists hadbeen preaching preparedness as Earth flungher ships into the reaches of the solar system,taking the first long step toward theconquest of space.     There are other races somewhere, theyargued. As strong and smart as man, manyof them so transcending man in mental andinventive power that we must be prepared tostrike the minute danger shows.     Now here was the answer to the scientists'warning. Invasion by extra-terrestrials.     What did you say? asked Steel-Blue.I couldn't understand.     Just thinking to myself, Jon answered.It was a welcome surprise. Apparently histhoughts had to be directed outward, ratherthan inward, in order for the Steel-Blues toread it.     He followed the Steel-Blue into the gapinglock of the invaders' space ship wonderinghow he could warn Earth. The SpacePatrol cruiser was due in for refueling athis service station in 21 days. But by thattime he probably would be mouldering inthe rocky dust of the asteroid.     It was pitch dark within the ship but theSteel-Blue seemed to have no trouble at allmaneuvering through the maze of corridors.Jon followed him, attached to one tentacle.     Finally Jon and his guide entered a circularroom, bright with light streaming froma glass-like, bulging skylight. They apparentlywere near topside of the vessel.     A Steel-Blue, more massive than hisguide and with four more pair of tentacles,including two short ones that grew from thetop of its head, spoke out.     This is the violator? Jon's Steel-Bluenodded.     You know the penalty? Carry it out.     He also is an inhabitant of this system,Jon's guide added.     Examine him first, then give him thedeath.     Jon Karyl shrugged as he was led fromthe lighted room through more corridors.If it got too bad he still had the stubraypistol.     Anyway, he was curious. He'd taken onthe lonely, nerve-wracking job of servicestation attendant just to see what it offered.     Here was a part of it, and it was certainlysomething new.     This is the examination room, hisSteel-Blue said, almost contemptuously.     A green effulgence surrounded him.   <doc-sep>  Jon Karyl  was bolting in a new baffleplate on the stationary rocket engine.It was a tedious job and took all hisconcentration. So he wasn't paying too muchattention to what was going on in otherparts of the little asteroid.     He didn't see the peculiar blue spaceship, its rockets throttled down, as it driftedto land only a few hundred yards away fromhis plastic igloo.     Nor did he see the half-dozen steel-bluecreatures slide out of the peculiar vessel'sairlock.     It was only as he crawled out of thedepths of the rocket power plant that herealized something was wrong.     By then it was almost too late. The sixblue figures were only fifty feet away, approachinghim at a lope.     Jon Karyl took one look and went boundingover the asteroid's rocky slopes in fifty-footbounds.     When you're a Lone Watcher, andstrangers catch you unawares, you don'tstand still. You move fast. It's the Watcher'sfirst rule. Stay alive. An Earthship may dependupon your life.     As he fled, Jon Karyl cursed softly underhis breath. The automatic alarm should haveshrilled out a warning.     Then he saved as much of his breath ashe could as some sort of power wave toreup the rocky sward to his left. He twistedand zig-zagged in his flight, trying to getout of sight of the strangers.     Once hidden from their eyes, he could cutback and head for the underground entranceto the service station.     He glanced back finally.     Two of the steel-blue creatures were jack-rabbitingafter him, and rapidly closing thedistance.     Jon Karyl unsheathed the stubray pistolat his side, turned the oxygen dial up forgreater exertion, increased the gravity pullin his space-suit boots as he neared theravine he'd been racing for.     The oxygen was just taking hold whenhe hit the lip of the ravine and begansprinting through its man-high bush-strewncourse.     The power ray from behind ripped outgreat gobs of the sheltering bushes. Butrunning naturally, bent close to the bottomof the ravine, Jon Karyl dodged the barespots. The oxygen made the tremendousexertion easy for his lungs as he sped downthe dim trail, hidden from the two steel-bluestalkers.     He'd eluded them, temporarily at least,Jon Karyl decided when he finally edged offthe dim trail and watched for movementalong the route behind him.     He stood up, finally, pushed aside theleafy overhang of a bush and looked forlandmarks along the edge of the ravine.     He found one, a stubby bush, shaped likea Maltese cross, clinging to the lip of theravine. The hidden entrance to the servicestation wasn't far off.     His pistol held ready, he moved quietlyon down the ravine until the old watercourse made an abrupt hairpin turn.     Instead of following around the sharpbend, Jon Karyl moved straight aheadthrough the overhanging bushes until hecame to a dense thicket. Dropping to hishands and knees he worked his way underthe edge of the thicket into a hollowed-outspace in the center.   <doc-sep>  He was  still weak days later whenCapt. Ron Small of SP-101 said,     Yes, Karyl, it's ironical. They fed youwhat they thought was sure death, and it'sthe only thing that kept you going longenough to warn us.     I was dumb for a long time, Karyl said.I thought that it was the acid, almost tothe very last. But when I drank that lastglass, I knew they didn't have a chance.     They were metal monsters. No wonderthey feared that liquid. It would rust theirjoints, short their wiring, and kill them.No wonder they stared when I kept aliveafter drinking enough to completely annihilatea half-dozen of them.     But what happened when you met theship?     The space captain grinned.     Not much. Our crew was busy creatinga hollow shell filled with      water     to be shotout of a rocket tube converted into a projectilethrower.     These Steel-Blues, as you call them, puttraction beams on us and started tugging ustoward the asteroid. We tried a couple ofatomic shots but when they just glanced off,we gave up.     They weren't expecting the shell ofwater. When it hit that blue ship, you couldalmost see it oxidize before your eyes.     I guess they knew what was wrong rightaway. They let go the traction beams andtried to get away. They forgot about theforce field, so we just poured atomic fireinto the weakening ship. It just meltedaway.     Jon Karyl got up from the divan wherehe'd been lying. They thought I was ametal creature, too. But where do you supposethey came from?     The captain shrugged. Who knows?     Jon set two glasses on the table.     Have a drink of the best damn water inthe solar system? He asked Capt. Small.     Don't mind if I do.     The water twinkled in the two glasses,winking as if it knew just what it haddone.     Transcriber's Note:   This etext was produced from    Planet Stories   July 1952.Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling andtypographical errors have been corrected without note.<doc-sep>  Staying  alive had now become a fetishwith Jon.     On the sixteenth day, the Earthman realizedthat the Steel-Blues also were waitingfor the SP ship.     The extra-terrestrials had repaired theblue ship where the service station atomicray had struck. And they were doing a littletarget practice with plastic bubbles only afew miles above the asteroid.     When his chronometer clocked off thebeginning of the twenty-first day, Jon receiveda tumbler of the hemlock from thehands of No. 1 himself.     It is the hemlock, he chuckled, undiluted.Drink it and your torture is over.You will die before your SP ship is destroyed.     We have played with you long enough.Today we begin to toy with your SP ship.Drink up, Earthman, drink to enslavement.     Weak though he was Jon lunged to hisfeet, spilling the tumbler of liquid. It rancool along the plastic arm of his space suit.He changed his mind about throwing thecontents on No. 1.     With a smile he set the glass at his lipsand drank. Then he laughed at No. 1.     The SP ship will turn your ship intojelly.     No. 1 swept out, chuckling. Boast if youwill, Earthman, it's your last chance.     There was an exultation in Jon's heartthat deadened the hunger and washed awaythe nausea.     At last he knew what the hemlock was.     He sat on the pallet adjusting the littlepower-pack radio. The SP ship should nowbe within range of the set. The space patrolwas notorious for its accuracy in keeping toschedule. Seconds counted like years. Theyhad to be on the nose, or it meant disasteror death.     He sent out the call letters.     AX to SP-101 ... AX to SP-101 ... AXto SP-101 ...     Three times he sent the call, then begansending his message, hoping that his signalwas reaching the ship. He couldn't know ifthey answered. Though the power packcould get out a message over a vast distance,it could not pick up messages evenwhen backed by an SP ship's power unlessthe ship was only a few hundred milesaway.     The power pack was strictly a distresssignal.     He didn't know how long he'd beensending, nor how many times his wearyvoice had repeated the short but desperatemessage.     He kept watching the heavens and hoping.     Abruptly he knew the SP ship was coming,for the blue ship of the Steel-Blues wasrising silently from the asteroid.     Up and up it rose, then flames flickeredin a circle about its curious shape. The shipdisappeared, suddenly accelerating.     Jon Karyl strained his eyes.     Finally he looked away from the heavensto the two Steel-Blues who stood negligentlyoutside the goldfish bowl.     Once more, Jon used the stubray pistol.He marched out of the plastic igloo and rantoward the service station.     He didn't know how weak he was untilhe stumbled and fell only a few feet fromhis prison.     The Steel-Blues just watched him.     He crawled on, around the circular pit inthe sward of the asteroid where one Steel-Bluehad shown him the power of hisweapon.     He'd been crawling through a nightmarefor years when the quiet voice penetratedhis dulled mind.     Take it easy, Karyl. You're amongfriends.     He pried open his eyes with his will. Hesaw the blue and gold of a space guard'suniform. He sighed and drifted into unconsciousness.   <doc-sep>  ACID BATH     By VASELEOS GARSON         The starways' Lone Watcher had expected some odd developmentsin his singular, nerve-fraught job on the asteroid. But nothing like theweird twenty-one-day liquid test devised by the invading Steel-Blues.      <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the connection between Jon Karyl and his Steel-Blue (the one he first encounters) in the story ACID BATH?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you give me a summary of the storyline in ""The Hoofer""? [SEP] <s>    A wayfarer's return from a far country to his wife and family may be ashining experience, a kind of second honeymoon. Or it may be so shadowedby Time's relentless tyranny that the changes which have occurred in hisabsence can lead only to tragedy and despair. This rarely discerning, warmlyhuman story by a brilliant newcomer to the science fantasy field is toldwith no pulling of punches, and its adroit unfolding will astound you.         the       hoofer         by ... Walter M. Miller, Jr.         A space rover has no business with a family. But what can a manin the full vigor of youth do—if his heart cries out for a home?    <doc-sep>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>  They all  knew he was a spacerbecause of the white goggle markson his sun-scorched face, and sothey tolerated him and helped him.They even made allowances for himwhen he staggered and fell in theaisle of the bus while pursuing theharassed little housewife from seatto seat and cajoling her to sit andtalk with him.     Having fallen, he decided tosleep in the aisle. Two men helpedhim to the back of the bus, dumpedhim on the rear seat, and tucked hisgin bottle safely out of sight. Afterall, he had not seen Earth for ninemonths, and judging by the crustedmatter about his eyelids, he couldn'thave seen it too well now, even ifhe had been sober. Glare-blindness,gravity-legs, and agoraphobia wereexcuses for a lot of things, when aman was just back from Big Bottomless.And who could blame aman for acting strangely?     Minutes later, he was back up theaisle and swaying giddily over thelittle housewife. How! he said.Me Chief Broken Wing. Youwanta Indian wrestle?     The girl, who sat nervously staringat him, smiled wanly, andshook her head.     Quiet li'l pigeon, aren'tcha? heburbled affectionately, crashing intothe seat beside her.     The two men slid out of theirseats, and a hand clamped his shoulder.Come on, Broken Wing, let'sgo back to bed.     My name's Hogey, he said.Big Hogey Parker. I was just kiddingabout being a Indian.     Yeah. Come on, let's go have adrink. They got him on his feet,and led him stumbling back downthe aisle.     My ma was half Cherokee, see?That's how come I said it. Youwanta hear a war whoop? Realstuff.     Never mind.     He cupped his hands to hismouth and favored them with ablood-curdling proof of his ancestry,while the female passengersstirred restlessly and hunched intheir seats. The driver stopped thebus and went back to warn himagainst any further display. Thedriver flashed a deputy's badge andthreatened to turn him over to aconstable.     I gotta get home, Big Hogeytold him. I got me a son now,that's why. You know? A littlebaby pigeon of a son. Haven't seenhim yet.     Will you just sit still and bequiet then, eh?     Big Hogey nodded emphatically.Shorry, officer, I didn't mean tomake any trouble.     When the bus started again, hefell on his side and lay still. Hemade retching sounds for a time,then rested, snoring softly. The busdriver woke him again at Caine'sjunction, retrieved his gin bottlefrom behind the seat, and helpedhim down the aisle and out of thebus.     Big Hogey stumbled about for amoment, then sat down hard in thegravel at the shoulder of the road.The driver paused with one foot onthe step, looking around. There wasnot even a store at the road junction,but only a freight buildingnext to the railroad track, a coupleof farmhouses at the edge of a side-road,and, just across the way, a desertedfilling station with a saggingroof. The land was Great Plainscountry, treeless, barren, and rolling.     Big Hogey got up and staggeredaround in front of the bus, clutchingat it for support, losing hisduffle bag.     Hey, watch the traffic! Thedriver warned. With a surge of unwelcomecompassion he trottedaround after his troublesome passenger,taking his arm as he saggedagain. You crossing?     Yah, Hogey muttered. Lemmealone, I'm okay.     The driver started across thehighway with him. The traffic wassparse, but fast and dangerous inthe central ninety-mile lane.     I'm okay, Hogey kept protesting.I'm a tumbler, ya know?Gravity's got me. Damn gravity.I'm not used to gravity, ya know? Iused to be a tumbler—      huk!     —onlynow I gotta be a hoofer. 'Countof li'l Hogey. You know about li'lHogey?     Yeah. Your son. Come on.     Say, you gotta son? I bet yougotta son.     Two kids, said the driver,catching Hogey's bag as it slippedfrom his shoulder. Both girls.     Say, you oughta be home withthem kids. Man oughta stick withhis family. You oughta get anotherjob. Hogey eyed him owlishly,waggled a moralistic finger, skiddedon the gravel as they steppedonto the opposite shoulder, andsprawled again.     The driver blew a weary breath,looked down at him, and shook hishead. Maybe it'd be kinder to finda constable after all. This guy couldget himself killed, wanderingaround loose.     Somebody supposed to meetyou? he asked, squinting aroundat the dusty hills.           Huk!     —who, me? Hogey giggled,belched, and shook his head.Nope. Nobody knows I'm coming.S'prise. I'm supposed to be here aweek ago. He looked up at thedriver with a pained expression.Week late, ya know? Marie'sgonna be sore—woo-      hoo     !—is shegonna be sore! He waggled hishead severely at the ground.     Which way are you going? thedriver grunted impatiently.     Hogey pointed down the side-roadthat led back into the hills.Marie's pop's place. You knowwhere? 'Bout three miles fromhere. Gotta walk, I guess.     Don't, the driver warned.You sit there by the culvert tillyou get a ride. Okay?     Hogey nodded forlornly.     Now stay out of the road, thedriver warned, then hurried backacross the highway. Moments later,the atomic battery-driven motorsdroned mournfully, and the buspulled away.     Big Hogey blinked after it, rubbingthe back of his neck. Nicepeople, he said. Nice buncha people.All hoofers.     With a grunt and a lurch, he gotto his feet, but his legs wouldn'twork right. With his tumbler's reflexes,he fought to right himselfwith frantic arm motions, but gravityclaimed him, and he went stumblinginto the ditch.     Damn legs, damn crazy legs!he cried.     The bottom of the ditch was wet,and he crawled up the embankmentwith mud-soaked knees, and sat onthe shoulder again. The gin bottlewas still intact. He had himself along fiery drink, and it warmed himdeep down. He blinked around atthe gaunt and treeless land.     The sun was almost down, forge-redon a dusty horizon. The blood-streakedsky faded into sulphurousyellow toward the zenith, and thevery air that hung over the landseemed full of yellow smoke, theomnipresent dust of the plains.     A farm truck turned onto theside-road and moaned away, itsdriver hardly glancing at the darkyoung man who sat swaying on hisduffle bag near the culvert. Hogeyscarcely noticed the vehicle. He justkept staring at the crazy sun.     He shook his head. It wasn't reallythe sun. The sun, the real sun,was a hateful eye-sizzling horror inthe dead black pit. It painted everythingwith pure white pain, and yousaw things by the reflected pain-light.The fat red sun was strictly aphoney, and it didn't fool him any.He hated it for what he knew it wasbehind the gory mask, and for whatit had done to his eyes.      With a grunt, he got to his feet,managed to shoulder the duffle bag,and started off down the middle ofthe farm road, lurching from sideto side, and keeping his eyes on therolling distances. Another car turnedonto the side-road, honking angrily.     Hogey tried to turn around tolook at it, but he forgot to shift hisfooting. He staggered and wentdown on the pavement. The car'stires screeched on the hot asphalt.Hogey lay there for a moment,groaning. That one had hurt hiship. A car door slammed and a bigman with a florid face got out andstalked toward him, looking angry.     What the hell's the matter withyou, fella? he drawled. Yousoused? Man, you've really got aload.     Hogey got up doggedly, shakinghis head to clear it. Space legs, heprevaricated. Got space legs. Can'tstand the gravity.     The burly farmer retrieved hisgin bottle for him, still miraculouslyunbroken. Here's your gravity,he grunted. Listen, fella, you betterget home pronto.     Pronto? Hey, I'm no Mex. Honest,I'm just space burned. Youknow?     Yeah. Say, who are you, anyway?Do you live around here?     It was obvious that the big manhad taken him for a hobo or atramp. Hogey pulled himself together.Goin' to the Hauptman'splace. Marie. You know Marie?     The farmer's eyebrows went up.Marie Hauptman? Sure I knowher. Only she's Marie Parker now.Has been, nigh on six years. Say—He paused, then gaped. You ain'ther husband by any chance?     Hogey, that's me. Big HogeyParker.     Well, I'll be—! Get in the car.I'm going right past John Hauptman'splace. Boy, you're in noshape to walk it.     He grinned wryly, waggled hishead, and helped Hogey and hisbag into the back seat. A womanwith a sun-wrinkled neck sat rigidlybeside the farmer in the front,and she neither greeted the passengernor looked around.     They don't make cars like thisanymore, the farmer called overthe growl of the ancient gasolineengine and the grind of gears.You can have them new atomicswith their loads of hot isotopesunder the seat. Ain't safe, I say—eh,Martha?     The woman with the sun-bakedneck quivered her head slightly.A car like this was good enoughfor Pa, an' I reckon it's goodenough for us, she drawled mournfully.     Five minutes later the car drewin to the side of the road. Reckonyou can walk it from here, thefarmer said. That's Hauptman'sroad just up ahead.     He helped Hogey out of the carand drove away without lookingback to see if Hogey stayed on hisfeet. The woman with the sun-bakedneck was suddenly talkinggarrulously in his direction.     It was twilight. The sun had set,and the yellow sky was turninggray. Hogey was too tired to go on,and his legs would no longer holdhim. He blinked around at the land,got his eyes focused, and foundwhat looked like Hauptman's placeon a distant hillside. It was a bigframe house surrounded by a wheatfield,and a few scrawny trees. Havinglocated it, he stretched out inthe tall grass beyond the ditch totake a little rest.     Somewhere dogs were barking,and a cricket sang creaking monotonyin the grass. Once there was thedistant thunder of a rocket blastfrom the launching station six milesto the west, but it faded quickly. AnA-motored convertible whined paston the road, but Hogey went unseen.     When he awoke, it was night,and he was shivering. His stomachwas screeching, and his nerves dancingwith high voltages. He sat upand groped for his watch, then rememberedhe had pawned it afterthe poker game. Remembering thegame and the results of the gamemade him wince and bite his lipand grope for the bottle again.     He sat breathing heavily for amoment after the stiff drink. Equatingtime to position had becomesecond nature with him, but he hadto think for a moment because hisdefective vision prevented him fromseeing the Earth-crescent.     Vega was almost straight abovehim in the late August sky, so heknew it wasn't much after sundown—probablyabout eight o'clock. Hebraced himself with another swallowof gin, picked himself up andgot back to the road, feeling a littlesobered after the nap.     He limped on up the pavementand turned left at the narrow drivethat led between barbed-wire fencestoward the Hauptman farmhouse,five hundred yards or so from thefarm road. The fields on his leftbelonged to Marie's father, heknew. He was getting close—closeto home and woman and child.     He dropped the bag suddenlyand leaned against a fence post,rolling his head on his forearmsand choking in spasms of air. Hewas shaking all over, and his bellywrithed. He wanted to turn andrun. He wanted to crawl out in thegrass and hide.     What were they going to say?And Marie, Marie most of all.How was he going to tell her aboutthe money?     Six hitches in space, and everytime the promise had been thesame:      One more tour, baby, andwe'll have enough dough, and thenI'll quit for good. One more time,and we'll have our stake—enoughto open a little business, or buy ahouse with a mortgage and get ajob.       And she had waited, but themoney had never been quite enoughuntil this time. This time the tourhad lasted nine months, and he hadsigned on for every run from stationto moon-base to pick up thebonuses. And this time he'd madeit. Two weeks ago, there had beenforty-eight hundred in the bank.And now ...           Why?      he groaned, striking hisforehead against his forearms. Hisarm slipped, and his head hit thetop of the fencepost, and the painblinded him for a moment. He staggeredback into the road with alow roar, wiped blood from hisforehead, and savagely kicked hisbag.     It rolled a couple of yards up theroad. He leaped after it and kickedit again. When he had finishedwith it, he stood panting and angry,but feeling better. He shoulderedthe bag and hiked on toward thefarmhouse.     They're hoofers, that's all—justan Earth-chained bunch of hoofers,even Marie. And I'm a tumbler. Aborn tumbler. Know what thatmeans? It means—God, what doesit mean? It means out in Big Bottomless,where Earth's like a fatmoon with fuzzy mold growing onit. Mold, that's all you are, justmold.     A dog barked, and he wonderedif he had been muttering aloud. Hecame to a fence-gap and paused inthe darkness. The road woundaround and came up the hill infront of the house. Maybe they weresitting on the porch. Maybe they'dalready heard him coming. Maybe ...     He was trembling again. Hefished the fifth of gin out of hiscoat pocket and sloshed it. Still overhalf a pint. He decided to kill it. Itwouldn't do to go home with abottle sticking out of his pocket.He stood there in the night wind,sipping at it, and watching the reddishmoon come up in the east. Themoon looked as phoney as thesetting sun.     He straightened in sudden determination.It had to be sometime.Get it over with, get it over withnow. He opened the fence-gap, slippedthrough, and closed it firmlybehind him. He retrieved his bag,and waded quietly through the tallgrass until he reached the hedgewhich divided an area of sicklypeach trees from the field. He gotover the hedge somehow, and startedthrough the trees toward thehouse. He stumbled over some oldboards, and they clattered.           Shhh!      he hissed, and movedon.     The dogs were barking angrily,and he heard a screen door slam.He stopped.     Ho there! a male voice calledexperimentally from the house.     One of Marie's brothers. Hogeystood frozen in the shadow of apeach tree, waiting.     Anybody out there? the mancalled again.     Hogey waited, then heard theman muttering, Sic 'im, boy, sic'im.     The hound's bark became eager.The animal came chasing down theslope, and stopped ten feet away tocrouch and bark frantically at theshadow in the gloom. He knew thedog.     Hooky! he whispered. Hookyboy—here!     The dog stopped barking, sniffed,trotted closer, and went      Rrrooff!      Then he started sniffingsuspiciously again.     Easy, Hooky, here boy! hewhispered.     The dog came forward silently,sniffed his hand, and whined inrecognition. Then he trotted aroundHogey, panting doggy affection anddancing an invitation to romp. Theman whistled from the porch. Thedog froze, then trotted quickly backup the slope.     Nothing, eh, Hooky? theman on the porch said. Chasin'armadillos again, eh?     The screen door slammed again,and the porch light went out.Hogey stood there staring, unableto think. Somewhere beyond thewindow lights were—his woman,his son.     What the hell was a tumbler doingwith a woman and a son?     After perhaps a minute, he steppedforward again. He tripped overa shovel, and his foot plunged intosomething that went      squelch     andswallowed the foot past the ankle.He fell forward into a heap ofsand, and his foot went deeper intothe sloppy wetness.     He lay there with his stingingforehead on his arms, cursing softlyand crying. Finally he rolledover, pulled his foot out of themess, and took off his shoes. Theywere full of mud—sticky sandymud.     The dark world was reelingabout him, and the wind was draggingat his breath. He fell backagainst the sand pile and let hisfeet sink in the mud hole and wriggledhis toes. He was laughingsoundlessly, and his face was wetin the wind. He couldn't think. Hecouldn't remember where he wasand why, and he stopped caring,and after a while he felt better.     The stars were swimming overhim, dancing crazily, and the mudcooled his feet, and the sand wassoft behind him. He saw a rocketgo up on a tail of flame from thestation, and waited for the sound ofits blast, but he was already asleepwhen it came.     It was far past midnight when hebecame conscious of the dog lickingwetly at his ear and cheek. Hepushed the animal away with a lowcurse and mopped at the side of hisface. He stirred, and groaned. Hisfeet were burning up! He tried topull them toward him, but theywouldn't budge. There was somethingwrong with his legs.     For an instant he stared wildlyaround in the night. Then he rememberedwhere he was, closed hiseyes and shuddered. When heopened them again, the moon hademerged from behind a cloud, andhe could see clearly the cruel trapinto which he had accidentallystumbled. A pile of old boards, acareful stack of new lumber, apick and shovel, a sand-pile, heapsof fresh-turned earth, and a concretemixer—well, it added up.     He gripped his ankles and pulled,but his feet wouldn't budge. Insudden terror, he tried to stand up,but his ankles were clutched by theconcrete too, and he fell back inthe sand with a low moan. He laystill for several minutes, consideringcarefully.     He pulled at his left foot. It waslocked in a vise. He tugged evenmore desperately at his right foot.It was equally immovable.     He sat up with a whimper andclawed at the rough concrete untilhis nails tore and his fingertipsbled. The surface still felt damp,but it had hardened while he slept.     He sat there stunned until Hookybegan licking at his scuffed fingers.He shouldered the dog away, anddug his hands into the sand-pile tostop the bleeding. Hooky licked athis face, panting love.     Get away! he croaked savagely.     The dog whined softly, trotteda short distance away, circled, andcame back to crouch down in thesand directly before Hogey, inchingforward experimentally.     Hogey gripped fistfuls of the drysand and cursed between his teeth,while his eyes wandered over thesky. They came to rest on the sliverof light—the space station—risingin the west, floating out in Big Bottomlesswhere the gang was—Nicholsand Guerrera and Lavrentiand Fats. And he wasn't forgettingKeesey, the rookie who'd replacedhim.     Keesey would have a rough timefor a while—rough as a cob. The pitwas no playground. The first timeyou went out of the station in asuit, the pit got you. Everythingwas falling, and you fell, with it.Everything. The skeletons of steel,the tire-shaped station, the spheresand docks and nightmare shapes—alltied together by umbilical cablesand flexible tubes. Like some crazysea-thing they seemed, floating in ablack ocean with its tentacles boundtogether by drifting strands in thedark tide that bore it.      Everything was pain-bright ordead black, and it wheeled aroundyou, and you went nuts trying tofigure which way was down. In fact,it took you months to teach yourbody that      all     ways were down andthat the pit was bottomless.     He became conscious of a plaintivesound in the wind, and froze tolisten.     It was a baby crying.     It was nearly a minute before hegot the significance of it. It hit himwhere he lived, and he began jerkingfrantically at his encased feetand sobbing low in his throat.They'd hear him if he kept that up.He stopped and covered his ears toclose out the cry of his firstborn. Alight went on in the house, andwhen it went off again, the infant'scry had ceased.     Another rocket went up from thestation, and he cursed it. Space wasa disease, and he had it.     Help! he cried out suddenly.I'm stuck! Help me, help me!     He knew he was yelling hystericallyat the sky and fighting the relentlessconcrete that clutched hisfeet, and after a moment he stopped.     The light was on in the houseagain, and he heard faint sounds.The stirring-about woke the babyagain, and once more the infant'swail came on the breeze.       Make the kid shut up, make thekid shut up ...       But that was no good. It wasn'tthe kid's fault. It wasn't Marie'sfault. No fathers allowed in space,they said, but it wasn't their faulteither. They were right, and he hadonly himself to blame. The kid wasan accident, but that didn't changeanything. Not a thing in the world.It remained a tragedy.     A tumbler had no business with afamily, but what was a man goingto do? Take a skinning knife, boy,and make yourself a eunuch. Butthat was no good either. They neededbulls out there in the pit, notsteers. And when a man came downfrom a year's hitch, what was hegoing to do? Live in a lonely shackand read books for kicks? Becauseyou were a man, you sought out awoman. And because she was awoman, she got a kid, and that wasthe end of it. It was nobody's fault,nobody's at all.     He stared at the red eye of Marslow in the southwest. They wererunning out there now, and nextyear he would have been on thelong long run ...     But there was no use thinkingabout it. Next year and the yearsafter belonged to      little     Hogey.     He sat there with his feet lockedin the solid concrete of the footing,staring out into Big Bottomlesswhile his son's cry came from thehouse and the Hauptman menfolkcame wading through the tall grassin search of someone who had criedout. His feet were stuck tight, andhe wouldn't ever get them out. Hewas sobbing softly when they foundhim.     Transcriber's Note:   This etext was produced from    Fantastic Universe   September 1955.Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling andtypographical errors have been corrected without note.<doc-sep>Martians approaching the corner were sensing at Doc and me. Theywere just cheap tourists slumming down on Skid Row. I hated touristsand especially I hated Martian tourists because I especially hatedMartians. They were      aliens     . They weren't      men     like Doc and me.     Then I realized what was about to happen. It was foolish and awful andtrue. I was going to have one of mine at the same time Doc was havinghis. That was bad. It had happened a few times right after I firstfound him, but now it was worse. For some undefinable reason, I felt wekept getting closer each of the times.     I tried not to think about it and helped Doc through the fly-speckedflophouse doors.     The tubercular clerk looked up from the gaudy comics sections of one ofthose little tabloids that have the funnies a week in advance.     Fifteen cents a bed, he said mechanically.     We'll use one bed, I told him. I'll give you twenty cents. I feltthe round hard quarter in my pocket, sweaty hand against sticky lining.     Fifteen cents a bed, he played it back for me.     Doc was quivering against me, his legs boneless.     We can always make it over to the mission, I lied.     The clerk turned his upper lip as if he were going to spit. Awright,since we ain't full up. In      ad     vance.     I placed the quarter on the desk.     Give me a nickel.     The clerk's hand fell on the coin and slid it off into the unknownbefore I could move, what with holding up Doc.     You've got your nerve, he said at me with a fine mist of dew. Had aquarter all along and yet you Martian me down to twenty cents. He sawthe look on my face. I'll give you a      room     for the two bits. That'sbetter'n a bed for twenty.     I knew I was going to need that nickel.      Desperately.     I reached acrossthe desk with my free hand and hauled the scrawny human up against theregister hard. I'm not as strong in my hands as Doc, but I managed.     Give me a nickel, I said.     What nickel? His eyes were big, but they kept looking right at me.You don't have any nickel. You don't have any quarter, not if I sayso. Want I should call a cop and tell him you were flexing a muscle?     I let go of him. He didn't scare me, but Doc was beginning to mumbleand that      did     scare me. I had to get him alone.     Where's the room? I asked.  <doc-sep>He adjusted the fall of his glittering robe before the great polishedfour-dimensional reflector that formed one wall of the chamber.       Kismet     , Skkiru muttered to himself,      and a little sleight of hand.     But he didn't dare offer this conclusion aloud; the libel laws ofSnaddra were very severe. So he had to fall back on a weak, And Isuppose it is kismet that makes us all have to go live out on theground during the day, like—like savages.     It is necessary, Bbulas replied without turning.     Pooh, Skkiru said. Pooh,      pooh     , POOH!     Larhgan's dainty earflaps closed. Skkiru! Such language!     As you said, Bbulas murmured, contemptuously coiling one antenna atSkkiru, the lots chose well and if you touch me, Skkiru, we shall haveanother drawing for beggar and you will be made a metal-worker.     But I can't work metal!     Then that will make it much worse for you than for the otheroutcasts, Bbulas said smugly, because you will be a pariah without atrade.     Speaking of pariahs, that reminds me, Skkiru, before I forget, I'dbetter give you back your grimpatch— Larhgan handed the glitteringbauble to him—and you give me mine. Since we can't be betrothed anylonger, you might want to give yours to some nice beggar girl.     I don't want to give my grimpatch to some nice beggar girl! Skkiruyelled, twirling madly in the air.     As for me, she sighed, standing soulfully on her head, I do notthink I shall ever marry. I shall make the religious life my career.Are there going to be any saints in your mythos, Bbulas?     Even if there will be, Bbulas said, you certainly won't qualify ifyou keep putting yourself into a position which not only represents atrait wholly out of keeping with the new culture, but is most unseemlywith the high priestess's robes.     Larhgan ignored his unfeeling observations. I shall set myself apartfrom mundane affairs, she vowed, and I shall pretend to be happy,even though my heart will be breaking.     It was only at that moment that Skkiru realized just how outrageous thewhole thing really was. There must be another solution to the planet'sproblem. Listen— he began, but just then excited noises filtereddown from overhead. It was too late.     Earth ship in view! a squeaky voice called through the intercom.Everybody topside and don't forget your shoes.     Except the beggar. Beggars went barefoot. Beggars suffered. Bbulas hadmade him beggar purposely, and the lots were a lot of slibwash.     Hurry up, Skkiru.  <doc-sep>Opening the tube again would not have been difficult, but first it hadto be freed from under the ship. Kaiser had tried forcing the sheetmetal back into place with a small crowbar—the best leverage he had onhand—but it resisted his best efforts. He still could think of no wayto do the job, simple as it was, though he gave his concentration to itthe rest of the day.     That evening, Kaiser received information from the      Soscites II     thatwas at least definite:     SET YOURSELF FOR A SHOCK, SMOKY. SAM FINALLY CAME THROUGH. YOU WON'TLIKE WHAT YOU HEAR. AT LEAST NOT AT FIRST. BUT IT COULD BE WORSE. YOUHAVE BEEN INVADED BY A SYMBIOTE—SIMILAR TO THE TYPE FOUND ON THE SANDWORLD, BARTEL-BLEETHERS. GIVE US A FEW MORE HOURS TO WORK WITH SAM ANDWE'LL GET YOU ALL THE PARTICULARS HE CAN GIVE US. HANG ON NOW!     SOSCITES II     Kaiser's reply was short and succinct:     WHAT THE HELL?     SMOKY       Soscites II's     next communication followed within twenty minutes andwas signed by the ship's doctor:     JUST A FEW WORDS, SMOKY, IN CASE YOU'RE WORRIED. I THOUGHT I'D GETTHIS OFF WHILE WE'RE WAITING FOR MORE INFORMATION FROM SAM. REMEMBERTHAT A SYMBIOTE IS NOT A PARASITE. IT WILL NOT HARM YOU, EXCEPTINADVERTENTLY. YOUR WELFARE IS AS ESSENTIAL TO IT AS TO YOU. ALMOSTCERTAINLY, IF YOU DIE, IT WILL DIE WITH YOU. ANY TROUBLE YOU'VE HADSO FAR WAS PROBABLY CAUSED BY THE SYMBIOTE'S DIFFICULTY IN ADJUSTINGITSELF TO ITS NEW ENVIRONMENT. IN A WAY, I ENVY YOU. MORE LATER, WHENWE FINISH WITH SAM.     J. G. ZARWELL     Kaiser did not answer. The news was so startling, so unforeseen, thathis mind refused to accept the actuality. He lay on the scout's bunkand stared at the ceiling without conscious attention, and with verylittle clear thought, for several hours—until the next communicationcame in:     WELL, THIS IS WHAT SAM HAS TO SAY, SMOKY. SYMBIOTE AMICABLE ANDAPPARENTLY SWIFTLY ADAPTABLE. YOUR CHANGING COLOR, DIFFICULTY INEATING AND EVEN BABY TALK WERE THE RESULT OF ITS EFFORTS TO GIVE YOUWHAT IT BELIEVED YOU NEEDED OR WANTED.     CHANGING COLOR: PROTECTIVE CAMOUFLAGE. TROUBLE KEEPING FOOD DOWN: ITKEPT YOUR STOMACH EMPTY BECAUSE IT SENSED YOU WERE IN TROUBLE ANDMIGHT HAVE NEED FOR SHARP REFLEXES, WITH NO EXCESS WEIGHT TO CARRY.THE BABY TALK WE AREN'T TOO CERTAIN ABOUT, BUT OUR BEST CONCLUSION ISTHAT WHEN YOU WERE A CHILD, YOU WERE MOST HAPPY. IT WAS TRYING TO GIVEYOU BACK THAT HAPPY STATE OF MIND. OBVIOUSLY IT QUICKLY RECOGNIZEDTHE MISTAKES IT MADE AND CORRECTED THEM.     SAM CAME UP WITH A FEW MORE IDEAS, BUT WE WANT TO WORK ON THEM A BITBEFORE WE SEND THEM THROUGH. SLEEP ON THIS.     SS II  <doc-sep>I was sweating. Sis has that deadly bulldog approach when she feelssomeone is lying. I pulled my pulpast handkerchief from my pocket towipe my face. Something rattled to the floor.     What is this picture of me doing in your pocket, Ferdinand?     A trap seemed to be hinging noisily into place. One of the passengerswanted to see how you looked in a bathing suit.     The passengers on this ship are all female. I can't imagine any ofthem that curious about my appearance. Ferdinand, it's a man who hasbeen giving you these anti-social ideas, isn't it? A war-mongeringmasculinist like all the frustrated men who want to engage ingovernment and don't have the vaguest idea how to. Except, of course,in their ancient, bloody ways. Ferdinand, who has been perverting thatsunny and carefree soul of yours?     Nobody!      Nobody!          Ferdinand, there's no point in lying! I demand—     I told you, Sis. I told you! And don't call me Ferdinand. Call meFord.     Ford?      Ford?     Now, you listen to me, Ferdinand....     After that it was all over but the confession. That came in a fewmoments. I couldn't fool Sis. She just knew me too well, I decidedmiserably. Besides, she was a girl.     All the same, I wouldn't get Mr. Butt Lee Brown into trouble if I couldhelp it. I made Sis promise she wouldn't turn him in if I took her tohim. And the quick, nodding way she said she would made me feel just alittle better.     The door opened on the signal, Sesame. When Butt saw somebody waswith me, he jumped and the ten-inch blaster barrel grew out of hisfingers. Then he recognized Sis from the pictures.     He stepped to one side and, with the same sweeping gesture, holsteredhis blaster and pushed his green hood off. It was Sis's turn to jumpwhen she saw the wild mass of hair rolling down his back.     An honor, Miss Sparling, he said in that rumbly voice. Please comeright in. There's a hurry-up draft.     So Sis went in and I followed right after her. Mr. Brown closed thedoor. I tried to catch his eye so I could give him some kind of hint orexplanation, but he had taken a couple of his big strides and was inthe control section with Sis. She didn't give ground, though; I'll saythat for her. She only came to his chest, but she had her arms crossedsternly.     First, Mr. Brown, she began, like talking to a cluck of a kid inclass, you realize that you are not only committing the politicalcrime of traveling without a visa, and the criminal one of stowing awaywithout paying your fare, but the moral delinquency of consuming storesintended for the personnel of this ship solely in emergency?  <doc-sep>One thing he could find out: how long this had been going on. Heturned to the communicator and unhooked the paper receptacle on itsbottom. It held about a yard and a half of tape, probably his lastseveral messages—both those sent and those received. He pulled it outimpatiently and began reading.     The first was from himself:     YOUR SUGGESTIONS NO HELP. HOW AM I GOING TO REPAIR DAMAGE TO SCOUTWITHOUT PROPER EQUIPMENT? AND WHERE DO I GET IT? DO YOU THINK I FOUNDA TOOL SHOP DOWN HERE? FOR GOD'S SAKE, COME UP WITH SOMETHING BETTER.     VISITED SEAL-PEOPLE AGAIN TODAY. STILL HAVE THEIR STINK IN MY NOSE.FOUND HUTS ALONG RIVER BANK, SO I GUESS THEY DON'T LIVE IN WATER.BUT THEY DO SPEND MOST OF THEIR TIME THERE. NO, I HAVE NO WAY OFESTIMATING THEIR INTELLIGENCE. I WOULD JUDGE IT AVERAGES NO HIGHERTHAN SEVEN-YEAR-OLD HUMAN. THEY DEFINITELY DO TALK TO ONE ANOTHER.WILL TRY TO FIND OUT MORE ABOUT THEM, BUT YOU GET TO WORK FAST ON HOWI REPAIR SCOUT.     SWELLING IN ARM WORSE AND AM DEVELOPING A FEVER. TEMPERATURE 102.7 ANHOUR AGO.     SMOKY     The ship must have answered immediately, for the return message timewas six hours later than his own, the minimum interval necessary fortwo-way exchange.     DOING OUR BEST, SMOKY. YOUR IMMEDIATE PROBLEM, AS WE SEE IT, IS TOKEEP WELL. WE FED ALL THE INFORMATION YOU GAVE US INTO SAM, BUT YOUDIDN'T HAVE MUCH EXCEPT THE STING IN YOUR ARM. AS EXPECTED, ALL THATCAME OUT WAS DATA INSUFFICIENT. TRY TO GIVE US MORE. ALSO DETAILALL SYMPTOMS SINCE YOUR LAST REPORT. IN THE MEANTIME, WE'RE DOINGEVERYTHING WE CAN AT THIS END. GOOD LUCK.     SS II     Sam, Kaiser knew, was the ship's mechanical diagnostician. His reportfollowed:     ARM SWOLLEN. UNABLE TO KEEP DOWN FOOD LAST TWELVE HOURS. ABOUT TWOHOURS AGO, ENTIRE BODY TURNED LIVID RED. BRIEF PERIODS OF BLANKNESS.THINGS KEEP COMING AND GOING. SICK AS HELL. HURRY.     SMOKY     The ship's next message read:     INFECTION QUITE DEFINITE. BUT SOMETHING STRANGE THERE. GIVE USANYTHING MORE YOU HAVE.     SS II     His own reply perplexed Kaiser:     LAST LETTER FUNNY. I NOT UNDERSTAND. WHY IS OO SENDING GARBLE TALK?DID USNS MAKE UP SECRET MESSAGES?     SMOKY     The expedition, apparently, was as puzzled as he:     WHAT'S THE MATTER, SMOKY? THAT LAST MESSAGE WAS IN PLAIN TERRAN. NOREASON WHY YOU COULDN'T READ IT. AND WHY THE BABY TALK? IF YOU'RESPOOFING, STOP. GIVE US MORE SYMPTOMS. HOW ARE YOU FEELING NOW?     SS II     The baby talk was worse on Kaiser's next:     TWAZY. WHAT FOR OO TENDING TWAZY LETTERS? FINK UM CAN WEAD TWAZYLETTERS? SKIN ALL YELLOW NOW. COLD. COLD. CO     The ship's following communication was three hours late. It was thelast on the tape—the one Kaiser had read earlier. Apparently theydecided to humor him.     OO IS SICK, SMOKY. DO TO BEDDY-BY. KEEP UM WARM. WHEN UM FEELS BETTER,LET USNS KNOW.     SS II     That was not much help. All it told him was that he had been sick.     He felt better now, outside of a muscular weariness, as thoughconvalescing from a long illness. He put the back of his hand to hisforehead. Cool. No fever anyway.     He glanced at the clock-calendar on the instrument board and back atthe date and time on the tape where he'd started his baby talk. Twentyhours. He hadn't been out of his head too long. He began punching thecommunicator keys while he nibbled at a biscuit.     SEEM TO BE FULLY RECOVERED. FEELING FINE. ANYTHING NEW FROM SAM? ANDHOW ABOUT THE DAMAGE TO SCOUT? GIVE ME ANYTHING YOU HAVE ON EITHER ORBOTH.     SMOKY     Kaiser felt suddenly weary. He lay on the scout's bunk and triedto sleep. Soon he was in that phantasm land between sleep andwakefulness—he knew he was not sleeping, yet he did dream.     It was the same dream he had had many times before. In it, he was backhome again, the home he had joined the space service to escape. He hadrealized soon after his marriage that his wife, Helene, did not lovehim. She had married him for the security his pay check provided. Andthough it soon became evident that she, too, regretted her bargain,she would not divorce him. Instead, she had her revenge on him bypersistent nagging, by letting herself grow fat and querulous, and bycaring for their house only in a slovenly way.     Her crippled brother had moved in with them the day they were married.His mind was as crippled as his body and he took an unhealthy delightin helping his sister torment Kaiser.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you give me a summary of the storyline in ""The Hoofer""?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the importance of Hogey's feet being trapped in concrete in ""The Hoofer""? [SEP] <s>  They all  knew he was a spacerbecause of the white goggle markson his sun-scorched face, and sothey tolerated him and helped him.They even made allowances for himwhen he staggered and fell in theaisle of the bus while pursuing theharassed little housewife from seatto seat and cajoling her to sit andtalk with him.     Having fallen, he decided tosleep in the aisle. Two men helpedhim to the back of the bus, dumpedhim on the rear seat, and tucked hisgin bottle safely out of sight. Afterall, he had not seen Earth for ninemonths, and judging by the crustedmatter about his eyelids, he couldn'thave seen it too well now, even ifhe had been sober. Glare-blindness,gravity-legs, and agoraphobia wereexcuses for a lot of things, when aman was just back from Big Bottomless.And who could blame aman for acting strangely?     Minutes later, he was back up theaisle and swaying giddily over thelittle housewife. How! he said.Me Chief Broken Wing. Youwanta Indian wrestle?     The girl, who sat nervously staringat him, smiled wanly, andshook her head.     Quiet li'l pigeon, aren'tcha? heburbled affectionately, crashing intothe seat beside her.     The two men slid out of theirseats, and a hand clamped his shoulder.Come on, Broken Wing, let'sgo back to bed.     My name's Hogey, he said.Big Hogey Parker. I was just kiddingabout being a Indian.     Yeah. Come on, let's go have adrink. They got him on his feet,and led him stumbling back downthe aisle.     My ma was half Cherokee, see?That's how come I said it. Youwanta hear a war whoop? Realstuff.     Never mind.     He cupped his hands to hismouth and favored them with ablood-curdling proof of his ancestry,while the female passengersstirred restlessly and hunched intheir seats. The driver stopped thebus and went back to warn himagainst any further display. Thedriver flashed a deputy's badge andthreatened to turn him over to aconstable.     I gotta get home, Big Hogeytold him. I got me a son now,that's why. You know? A littlebaby pigeon of a son. Haven't seenhim yet.     Will you just sit still and bequiet then, eh?     Big Hogey nodded emphatically.Shorry, officer, I didn't mean tomake any trouble.     When the bus started again, hefell on his side and lay still. Hemade retching sounds for a time,then rested, snoring softly. The busdriver woke him again at Caine'sjunction, retrieved his gin bottlefrom behind the seat, and helpedhim down the aisle and out of thebus.     Big Hogey stumbled about for amoment, then sat down hard in thegravel at the shoulder of the road.The driver paused with one foot onthe step, looking around. There wasnot even a store at the road junction,but only a freight buildingnext to the railroad track, a coupleof farmhouses at the edge of a side-road,and, just across the way, a desertedfilling station with a saggingroof. The land was Great Plainscountry, treeless, barren, and rolling.     Big Hogey got up and staggeredaround in front of the bus, clutchingat it for support, losing hisduffle bag.     Hey, watch the traffic! Thedriver warned. With a surge of unwelcomecompassion he trottedaround after his troublesome passenger,taking his arm as he saggedagain. You crossing?     Yah, Hogey muttered. Lemmealone, I'm okay.     The driver started across thehighway with him. The traffic wassparse, but fast and dangerous inthe central ninety-mile lane.     I'm okay, Hogey kept protesting.I'm a tumbler, ya know?Gravity's got me. Damn gravity.I'm not used to gravity, ya know? Iused to be a tumbler—      huk!     —onlynow I gotta be a hoofer. 'Countof li'l Hogey. You know about li'lHogey?     Yeah. Your son. Come on.     Say, you gotta son? I bet yougotta son.     Two kids, said the driver,catching Hogey's bag as it slippedfrom his shoulder. Both girls.     Say, you oughta be home withthem kids. Man oughta stick withhis family. You oughta get anotherjob. Hogey eyed him owlishly,waggled a moralistic finger, skiddedon the gravel as they steppedonto the opposite shoulder, andsprawled again.     The driver blew a weary breath,looked down at him, and shook hishead. Maybe it'd be kinder to finda constable after all. This guy couldget himself killed, wanderingaround loose.     Somebody supposed to meetyou? he asked, squinting aroundat the dusty hills.           Huk!     —who, me? Hogey giggled,belched, and shook his head.Nope. Nobody knows I'm coming.S'prise. I'm supposed to be here aweek ago. He looked up at thedriver with a pained expression.Week late, ya know? Marie'sgonna be sore—woo-      hoo     !—is shegonna be sore! He waggled hishead severely at the ground.     Which way are you going? thedriver grunted impatiently.     Hogey pointed down the side-roadthat led back into the hills.Marie's pop's place. You knowwhere? 'Bout three miles fromhere. Gotta walk, I guess.     Don't, the driver warned.You sit there by the culvert tillyou get a ride. Okay?     Hogey nodded forlornly.     Now stay out of the road, thedriver warned, then hurried backacross the highway. Moments later,the atomic battery-driven motorsdroned mournfully, and the buspulled away.     Big Hogey blinked after it, rubbingthe back of his neck. Nicepeople, he said. Nice buncha people.All hoofers.     With a grunt and a lurch, he gotto his feet, but his legs wouldn'twork right. With his tumbler's reflexes,he fought to right himselfwith frantic arm motions, but gravityclaimed him, and he went stumblinginto the ditch.     Damn legs, damn crazy legs!he cried.     The bottom of the ditch was wet,and he crawled up the embankmentwith mud-soaked knees, and sat onthe shoulder again. The gin bottlewas still intact. He had himself along fiery drink, and it warmed himdeep down. He blinked around atthe gaunt and treeless land.     The sun was almost down, forge-redon a dusty horizon. The blood-streakedsky faded into sulphurousyellow toward the zenith, and thevery air that hung over the landseemed full of yellow smoke, theomnipresent dust of the plains.     A farm truck turned onto theside-road and moaned away, itsdriver hardly glancing at the darkyoung man who sat swaying on hisduffle bag near the culvert. Hogeyscarcely noticed the vehicle. He justkept staring at the crazy sun.     He shook his head. It wasn't reallythe sun. The sun, the real sun,was a hateful eye-sizzling horror inthe dead black pit. It painted everythingwith pure white pain, and yousaw things by the reflected pain-light.The fat red sun was strictly aphoney, and it didn't fool him any.He hated it for what he knew it wasbehind the gory mask, and for whatit had done to his eyes.      With a grunt, he got to his feet,managed to shoulder the duffle bag,and started off down the middle ofthe farm road, lurching from sideto side, and keeping his eyes on therolling distances. Another car turnedonto the side-road, honking angrily.     Hogey tried to turn around tolook at it, but he forgot to shift hisfooting. He staggered and wentdown on the pavement. The car'stires screeched on the hot asphalt.Hogey lay there for a moment,groaning. That one had hurt hiship. A car door slammed and a bigman with a florid face got out andstalked toward him, looking angry.     What the hell's the matter withyou, fella? he drawled. Yousoused? Man, you've really got aload.     Hogey got up doggedly, shakinghis head to clear it. Space legs, heprevaricated. Got space legs. Can'tstand the gravity.     The burly farmer retrieved hisgin bottle for him, still miraculouslyunbroken. Here's your gravity,he grunted. Listen, fella, you betterget home pronto.     Pronto? Hey, I'm no Mex. Honest,I'm just space burned. Youknow?     Yeah. Say, who are you, anyway?Do you live around here?     It was obvious that the big manhad taken him for a hobo or atramp. Hogey pulled himself together.Goin' to the Hauptman'splace. Marie. You know Marie?     The farmer's eyebrows went up.Marie Hauptman? Sure I knowher. Only she's Marie Parker now.Has been, nigh on six years. Say—He paused, then gaped. You ain'ther husband by any chance?     Hogey, that's me. Big HogeyParker.     Well, I'll be—! Get in the car.I'm going right past John Hauptman'splace. Boy, you're in noshape to walk it.     He grinned wryly, waggled hishead, and helped Hogey and hisbag into the back seat. A womanwith a sun-wrinkled neck sat rigidlybeside the farmer in the front,and she neither greeted the passengernor looked around.     They don't make cars like thisanymore, the farmer called overthe growl of the ancient gasolineengine and the grind of gears.You can have them new atomicswith their loads of hot isotopesunder the seat. Ain't safe, I say—eh,Martha?     The woman with the sun-bakedneck quivered her head slightly.A car like this was good enoughfor Pa, an' I reckon it's goodenough for us, she drawled mournfully.     Five minutes later the car drewin to the side of the road. Reckonyou can walk it from here, thefarmer said. That's Hauptman'sroad just up ahead.     He helped Hogey out of the carand drove away without lookingback to see if Hogey stayed on hisfeet. The woman with the sun-bakedneck was suddenly talkinggarrulously in his direction.     It was twilight. The sun had set,and the yellow sky was turninggray. Hogey was too tired to go on,and his legs would no longer holdhim. He blinked around at the land,got his eyes focused, and foundwhat looked like Hauptman's placeon a distant hillside. It was a bigframe house surrounded by a wheatfield,and a few scrawny trees. Havinglocated it, he stretched out inthe tall grass beyond the ditch totake a little rest.     Somewhere dogs were barking,and a cricket sang creaking monotonyin the grass. Once there was thedistant thunder of a rocket blastfrom the launching station six milesto the west, but it faded quickly. AnA-motored convertible whined paston the road, but Hogey went unseen.     When he awoke, it was night,and he was shivering. His stomachwas screeching, and his nerves dancingwith high voltages. He sat upand groped for his watch, then rememberedhe had pawned it afterthe poker game. Remembering thegame and the results of the gamemade him wince and bite his lipand grope for the bottle again.     He sat breathing heavily for amoment after the stiff drink. Equatingtime to position had becomesecond nature with him, but he hadto think for a moment because hisdefective vision prevented him fromseeing the Earth-crescent.     Vega was almost straight abovehim in the late August sky, so heknew it wasn't much after sundown—probablyabout eight o'clock. Hebraced himself with another swallowof gin, picked himself up andgot back to the road, feeling a littlesobered after the nap.     He limped on up the pavementand turned left at the narrow drivethat led between barbed-wire fencestoward the Hauptman farmhouse,five hundred yards or so from thefarm road. The fields on his leftbelonged to Marie's father, heknew. He was getting close—closeto home and woman and child.     He dropped the bag suddenlyand leaned against a fence post,rolling his head on his forearmsand choking in spasms of air. Hewas shaking all over, and his bellywrithed. He wanted to turn andrun. He wanted to crawl out in thegrass and hide.     What were they going to say?And Marie, Marie most of all.How was he going to tell her aboutthe money?     Six hitches in space, and everytime the promise had been thesame:      One more tour, baby, andwe'll have enough dough, and thenI'll quit for good. One more time,and we'll have our stake—enoughto open a little business, or buy ahouse with a mortgage and get ajob.       And she had waited, but themoney had never been quite enoughuntil this time. This time the tourhad lasted nine months, and he hadsigned on for every run from stationto moon-base to pick up thebonuses. And this time he'd madeit. Two weeks ago, there had beenforty-eight hundred in the bank.And now ...           Why?      he groaned, striking hisforehead against his forearms. Hisarm slipped, and his head hit thetop of the fencepost, and the painblinded him for a moment. He staggeredback into the road with alow roar, wiped blood from hisforehead, and savagely kicked hisbag.     It rolled a couple of yards up theroad. He leaped after it and kickedit again. When he had finishedwith it, he stood panting and angry,but feeling better. He shoulderedthe bag and hiked on toward thefarmhouse.     They're hoofers, that's all—justan Earth-chained bunch of hoofers,even Marie. And I'm a tumbler. Aborn tumbler. Know what thatmeans? It means—God, what doesit mean? It means out in Big Bottomless,where Earth's like a fatmoon with fuzzy mold growing onit. Mold, that's all you are, justmold.     A dog barked, and he wonderedif he had been muttering aloud. Hecame to a fence-gap and paused inthe darkness. The road woundaround and came up the hill infront of the house. Maybe they weresitting on the porch. Maybe they'dalready heard him coming. Maybe ...     He was trembling again. Hefished the fifth of gin out of hiscoat pocket and sloshed it. Still overhalf a pint. He decided to kill it. Itwouldn't do to go home with abottle sticking out of his pocket.He stood there in the night wind,sipping at it, and watching the reddishmoon come up in the east. Themoon looked as phoney as thesetting sun.     He straightened in sudden determination.It had to be sometime.Get it over with, get it over withnow. He opened the fence-gap, slippedthrough, and closed it firmlybehind him. He retrieved his bag,and waded quietly through the tallgrass until he reached the hedgewhich divided an area of sicklypeach trees from the field. He gotover the hedge somehow, and startedthrough the trees toward thehouse. He stumbled over some oldboards, and they clattered.           Shhh!      he hissed, and movedon.     The dogs were barking angrily,and he heard a screen door slam.He stopped.     Ho there! a male voice calledexperimentally from the house.     One of Marie's brothers. Hogeystood frozen in the shadow of apeach tree, waiting.     Anybody out there? the mancalled again.     Hogey waited, then heard theman muttering, Sic 'im, boy, sic'im.     The hound's bark became eager.The animal came chasing down theslope, and stopped ten feet away tocrouch and bark frantically at theshadow in the gloom. He knew thedog.     Hooky! he whispered. Hookyboy—here!     The dog stopped barking, sniffed,trotted closer, and went      Rrrooff!      Then he started sniffingsuspiciously again.     Easy, Hooky, here boy! hewhispered.     The dog came forward silently,sniffed his hand, and whined inrecognition. Then he trotted aroundHogey, panting doggy affection anddancing an invitation to romp. Theman whistled from the porch. Thedog froze, then trotted quickly backup the slope.     Nothing, eh, Hooky? theman on the porch said. Chasin'armadillos again, eh?     The screen door slammed again,and the porch light went out.Hogey stood there staring, unableto think. Somewhere beyond thewindow lights were—his woman,his son.     What the hell was a tumbler doingwith a woman and a son?     After perhaps a minute, he steppedforward again. He tripped overa shovel, and his foot plunged intosomething that went      squelch     andswallowed the foot past the ankle.He fell forward into a heap ofsand, and his foot went deeper intothe sloppy wetness.     He lay there with his stingingforehead on his arms, cursing softlyand crying. Finally he rolledover, pulled his foot out of themess, and took off his shoes. Theywere full of mud—sticky sandymud.     The dark world was reelingabout him, and the wind was draggingat his breath. He fell backagainst the sand pile and let hisfeet sink in the mud hole and wriggledhis toes. He was laughingsoundlessly, and his face was wetin the wind. He couldn't think. Hecouldn't remember where he wasand why, and he stopped caring,and after a while he felt better.     The stars were swimming overhim, dancing crazily, and the mudcooled his feet, and the sand wassoft behind him. He saw a rocketgo up on a tail of flame from thestation, and waited for the sound ofits blast, but he was already asleepwhen it came.     It was far past midnight when hebecame conscious of the dog lickingwetly at his ear and cheek. Hepushed the animal away with a lowcurse and mopped at the side of hisface. He stirred, and groaned. Hisfeet were burning up! He tried topull them toward him, but theywouldn't budge. There was somethingwrong with his legs.     For an instant he stared wildlyaround in the night. Then he rememberedwhere he was, closed hiseyes and shuddered. When heopened them again, the moon hademerged from behind a cloud, andhe could see clearly the cruel trapinto which he had accidentallystumbled. A pile of old boards, acareful stack of new lumber, apick and shovel, a sand-pile, heapsof fresh-turned earth, and a concretemixer—well, it added up.     He gripped his ankles and pulled,but his feet wouldn't budge. Insudden terror, he tried to stand up,but his ankles were clutched by theconcrete too, and he fell back inthe sand with a low moan. He laystill for several minutes, consideringcarefully.     He pulled at his left foot. It waslocked in a vise. He tugged evenmore desperately at his right foot.It was equally immovable.     He sat up with a whimper andclawed at the rough concrete untilhis nails tore and his fingertipsbled. The surface still felt damp,but it had hardened while he slept.     He sat there stunned until Hookybegan licking at his scuffed fingers.He shouldered the dog away, anddug his hands into the sand-pile tostop the bleeding. Hooky licked athis face, panting love.     Get away! he croaked savagely.     The dog whined softly, trotteda short distance away, circled, andcame back to crouch down in thesand directly before Hogey, inchingforward experimentally.     Hogey gripped fistfuls of the drysand and cursed between his teeth,while his eyes wandered over thesky. They came to rest on the sliverof light—the space station—risingin the west, floating out in Big Bottomlesswhere the gang was—Nicholsand Guerrera and Lavrentiand Fats. And he wasn't forgettingKeesey, the rookie who'd replacedhim.     Keesey would have a rough timefor a while—rough as a cob. The pitwas no playground. The first timeyou went out of the station in asuit, the pit got you. Everythingwas falling, and you fell, with it.Everything. The skeletons of steel,the tire-shaped station, the spheresand docks and nightmare shapes—alltied together by umbilical cablesand flexible tubes. Like some crazysea-thing they seemed, floating in ablack ocean with its tentacles boundtogether by drifting strands in thedark tide that bore it.      Everything was pain-bright ordead black, and it wheeled aroundyou, and you went nuts trying tofigure which way was down. In fact,it took you months to teach yourbody that      all     ways were down andthat the pit was bottomless.     He became conscious of a plaintivesound in the wind, and froze tolisten.     It was a baby crying.     It was nearly a minute before hegot the significance of it. It hit himwhere he lived, and he began jerkingfrantically at his encased feetand sobbing low in his throat.They'd hear him if he kept that up.He stopped and covered his ears toclose out the cry of his firstborn. Alight went on in the house, andwhen it went off again, the infant'scry had ceased.     Another rocket went up from thestation, and he cursed it. Space wasa disease, and he had it.     Help! he cried out suddenly.I'm stuck! Help me, help me!     He knew he was yelling hystericallyat the sky and fighting the relentlessconcrete that clutched hisfeet, and after a moment he stopped.     The light was on in the houseagain, and he heard faint sounds.The stirring-about woke the babyagain, and once more the infant'swail came on the breeze.       Make the kid shut up, make thekid shut up ...       But that was no good. It wasn'tthe kid's fault. It wasn't Marie'sfault. No fathers allowed in space,they said, but it wasn't their faulteither. They were right, and he hadonly himself to blame. The kid wasan accident, but that didn't changeanything. Not a thing in the world.It remained a tragedy.     A tumbler had no business with afamily, but what was a man goingto do? Take a skinning knife, boy,and make yourself a eunuch. Butthat was no good either. They neededbulls out there in the pit, notsteers. And when a man came downfrom a year's hitch, what was hegoing to do? Live in a lonely shackand read books for kicks? Becauseyou were a man, you sought out awoman. And because she was awoman, she got a kid, and that wasthe end of it. It was nobody's fault,nobody's at all.     He stared at the red eye of Marslow in the southwest. They wererunning out there now, and nextyear he would have been on thelong long run ...     But there was no use thinkingabout it. Next year and the yearsafter belonged to      little     Hogey.     He sat there with his feet lockedin the solid concrete of the footing,staring out into Big Bottomlesswhile his son's cry came from thehouse and the Hauptman menfolkcame wading through the tall grassin search of someone who had criedout. His feet were stuck tight, andhe wouldn't ever get them out. Hewas sobbing softly when they foundhim.     Transcriber's Note:   This etext was produced from    Fantastic Universe   September 1955.Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling andtypographical errors have been corrected without note.<doc-sep>    A wayfarer's return from a far country to his wife and family may be ashining experience, a kind of second honeymoon. Or it may be so shadowedby Time's relentless tyranny that the changes which have occurred in hisabsence can lead only to tragedy and despair. This rarely discerning, warmlyhuman story by a brilliant newcomer to the science fantasy field is toldwith no pulling of punches, and its adroit unfolding will astound you.         the       hoofer         by ... Walter M. Miller, Jr.         A space rover has no business with a family. But what can a manin the full vigor of youth do—if his heart cries out for a home?    <doc-sep>He'd never gone as far as the bridge before, not having wanted tolook as if he might be leaving the city. The approach was a jungle ofconcrete with an underbrush of reinforcing-steel that reached for theunwary with rusted spines. Frequently they had to balance on crackedgirders, and inch over roadless spots high off the ground.     Here Ida took the lead. When they got to where three approach roadsmade a clover-leaf, she led him down a side road and into a forest.     Roddie stopped, and seized her arm.     What are you trying to do? he demanded.     I'm taking you with me, Ida said firmly. Taking you where youbelong!     No! he blurted, drawing his hammer. I can't go, nor let you go. Ibelong here!     Ida gasped, twisted loose, and ran. Roddie ran after her.     She wasn't so easily caught. Like a frightened doe, she dashed in andout among the trees, leaped to the bridge's underpinnings where theythrust rustedly from a cliff, and scrambled up the ramp.     Roddie sighed and slowed down. The pavement ended just beyond the cableanchors. From there to the south tower, only an occasional danglingsupport wire showed where the actual bridge had been suspended. Ida wastrapped.     He could take his time. Let the soldiers come up, as they undoubtedlywould, to finish the job....     But Ida didn't seem to realize she was trapped. Without hesitation shedashed up the main left-hand suspension cable and ran along its curvedsteel surface.     For a moment, Roddie thought of letting her go, letting her run up theever-steepening catenary until—because there were no guard-ropes orhandgrips—she simply fell. That would solve his problem.     Except it wouldn't be      his     solution. Her death wouldn't prove him tohis friends.     He set out quickly, before Ida was lost to sight in the thick fogthat billowed in straight from the ocean. At first he ran erect alongthe top of the yard-wide cylinder of twisted metal, but soon the curvesteepened. He had to go on all fours, clinging palm and sole.     Blood was on the cable where she'd passed. More blood stained it whenhe'd followed.     But because his friends knew neither pain nor fatigue, Roddie wouldadmit none either. Nor would he give in to the fear that dizzied him atevery downward look. He scrambled on like an automaton, watching onlyhis holds, till he rammed Ida's rear with his head.  <doc-sep>Outside on the starlit sand Retief tossed aside the power pistol,followed it with the leather shirt Swazey had lent him. By the faintlight he could just make out the towering figure of the Flap-jackrearing up before him, his trappings gone. A silent rank of Flap-jackretainers were grouped behind him.     I fear I must lay aside the translator now, Retief, said Hoshick.He sighed and rippled his fringe tentacles. My spawn-fellows willnever credit this. Such a curious turn fashion has taken. How muchmore pleasant it is to observe the action of the skirmishforms from adistance.     I suggest we use Tennessee rules, said Retief. They're very liberal.Biting, gouging, stomping, kneeing and of course choking, as well asthe usual punching, shoving and kicking.     Hmmm. These gambits seem geared to forms employing rigidendo-skeletons; I fear I shall be at a disadvantage.     Of course, Retief said, if you'd prefer a more plebeian type ofcontest....     By no means. But perhaps we could rule out tentacle-twisting, just toeven it.     Very well. Shall we begin?     With a rush Hoshick threw himself at Retief, who ducked, whirled, andleaped on the Flap-jack's back ... and felt himself flipped clear bya mighty ripple of the alien's slab-like body. Retief rolled asideas Hoshick turned on him; he jumped to his feet and threw a righthay-maker to Hoshick's mid-section. The alien whipped his left fringearound in an arc that connected with Retief's jaw, sent him spinningonto his back ... and Hoshick's weight struck him.       Retief twisted, tried to roll. The flat body of the alien blanketedhim. He worked an arm free, drumming blows on the leathery back.Hoshick nestled closer.     Retief's air was running out. He heaved up against the smotheringweight. Nothing budged.     It was like burial under a dump-truck-load of concrete.     He remembered the rangerform he had captured. The sensitive orificehad been placed ventrally, in what would be the thoracic area....     He groped, felt tough hide set with horny granules. He would be missingskin tomorrow ... if there was a tomorrow. His thumb found the orificeand probed.     The Flap-jack recoiled. Retief held fast, probed deeper, groping withthe other hand. If the alien were bilaterally symmetrical there wouldbe a set of ready made hand-holds....  <doc-sep>Light showered the room in a dazzling explosion. Ben, half blinded,realized that a broad circle of unshaded globes in the ceiling had beenturned on.     The light washed away the room's strangeness and its air of broodingwickedness, revealing drab concrete walls and a debris-strewn floor.     Eyes blinked and squinted. There were swift, frightened movements anda chorus of angry murmurs. The patrons of the Blast Inn were liketatter-clad occupants of a house whose walls have been ripped away.     Ben Curtis twisted his lean body erect. His chair tumbled backward,falling.     The white-clad men charged, neuro-clubs upraised.     A woman screamed. The music ceased. The Martian orchestra slunk withfeline stealth to a rear exit. Only the giant Venusians remainedundisturbed. They stood unmoving, their staring eyes shifting lazily inBen's direction.     Curtis! one of the policemen yelled. You're covered! Hold it!     Ben whirled away from the advancing police, made for the exit intowhich the musicians had disappeared.     A hissing sound traveled past his left ear, a sound like compressed airescaping from a container. A dime-sized section of the concrete wallahead of him crumbled.     He stumbled forward. They were using deadly neuro-pistols now, not themildly stunning neuro-clubs.     Another hiss passed his cheek. He was about twelve feet from the exit.      Another second     , his brain screamed.      Just another second—       Or would the exits be guarded?     He heard the hiss.     It hit directly in the small of his back. There was no pain, just aslight pricking sensation, like the shallow jab of a needle.  <doc-sep>Radio stations went up all over Zur and began broadcasting. The peoplebought receiving sets like mad. The automobiles arrived and highwayswere constructed.     The last hope of the brothers was dashed. The Earthmen set up plantsand began to manufacture Portland cement.     You could build a house of concrete much cheaper than with tile. Ofcourse, since wood was scarce on Zur, it was no competition for eithertile or concrete. Concrete floors were smoother, too, and the stuffmade far better road surfacing.     The demand for Masur tile hit rock bottom.     The next time the brothers went to see the governor, he said, I cannothandle such complaints as yours. I must refer you to the MerchandisingCouncil.     What is that? asked Koltan.     It is an Earthman association that deals with complaints such asyours. In the matter of material progress, we must expect some strainin the fabric of our culture. Machinery has been set up to deal withit. Here is their address; go air your troubles to them.     The business of a formal complaint was turned over by the brothers toZotul. It took three weeks for the Earthmen to get around to callinghim in, as a representative of the Pottery of Masur, for an interview.     All the brothers could no longer be spared from the plant, even for thepurpose of pressing a complaint. Their days of idle wealth over, theyhad to get in and work with the clay with the rest of the help.     Zotul found the headquarters of the Merchandising Council as indicatedon their message. He had not been this way in some time, but was notsurprised to find that a number of old buildings had been torn down tomake room for the concrete Council House and a roomy parking lot, pavedwith something called blacktop and jammed with an array of glitteringnew automobiles.     An automobile was an expense none of the brothers could afford, nowthat they barely eked a living from the pottery. Still, Zotul achedwith desire at sight of so many shiny cars. Only a few had them andthey were the envied ones of Zur.     Kent Broderick, the Earthman in charge of the Council, shook handsjovially with Zotul. That alien custom conformed with, Zotul took abetter look at his host. Broderick was an affable, smiling individualwith genial laugh wrinkles at his eyes. A man of middle age, dressed inthe baggy costume of Zur, he looked almost like a Zurian, except foran indefinite sense of alienness about him.     Glad to have you call on us, Mr. Masur, boomed the Earthman, clappingZotul on the back. Just tell us your troubles and we'll have youstraightened out in no time.  <doc-sep>Five minutes' stealthy progress brought him to a slight rise of ground.With infinite caution he raised himself, risking a glance over anout-cropping of rock.     The stunted trees ended just ahead. Beyond, he could make out the dimcontour of rolling desert. Flap-jack country. He got to his feet,clambered over the stone—still hot after a day of tropical heat—andmoved forward twenty yards. Around him he saw nothing but drifted sand,palely visible in the starlight, and the occasional shadow of juttingshale slabs. Behind him the jungle was still.     He sat down on the ground to wait.     It was ten minutes before a movement caught his eye. Something hadseparated itself from a dark mass of stone, glided across a few yardsof open ground to another shelter. Retief watched. Minutes passed. Theshape moved again, slipped into a shadow ten feet distant. Retief feltthe butt of the power pistol with his elbow. His guess had better beright this time....     There was a sudden rasp, like leather against concrete, and a flurry ofsand as the Flap-jack charged.     Retief rolled aside, then lunged, threw his weight on the floppingFlap-jack—a yard square, three inches thick at the center and allmuscle. The ray-like creature heaved up, curled backward, its edgerippling, to stand on the flattened rim of its encircling sphincter.It scrabbled with prehensile fringe-tentacles for a grip on Retief'sshoulders. He wrapped his arms around the alien and struggled to hisfeet. The thing was heavy. A hundred pounds at least. Fighting as itwas, it seemed more like five hundred.     The Flap-jack reversed its tactics, went limp. Retief grabbed, felt athumb slip into an orifice—     The alien went wild. Retief hung on, dug the thumb in deeper.     Sorry, fellow, he muttered between clenched teeth. Eye-gouging isn'tgentlemanly, but it's effective....     The Flap-jack fell still, only its fringes rippling slowly. Retiefrelaxed the pressure of his thumb; the alien gave a tentative jerk; thethumb dug in.     The alien went limp again, waiting.     Now we understand each other, said Retief. Take me to your leader.  <doc-sep>Name? the cop with the notebook murmured.     Loyce. He mopped his forehead wearily. Edward C. Loyce. Listen to me.Back there—     Address? the cop demanded. The police car moved swiftly throughtraffic, shooting among the cars and buses. Loyce sagged against theseat, exhausted and confused. He took a deep shuddering breath.     1368 Hurst Road.     That's here in Pikeville?     That's right. Loyce pulled himself up with a violent effort. Listento me. Back there. In the square. Hanging from the lamppost—     Where were you today? the cop behind the wheel demanded.     Where? Loyce echoed.     You weren't in your shop, were you?     No. He shook his head. No, I was home. Down in the basement.     In the      basement     ?     Digging. A new foundation. Getting out the dirt to pour a cement frame.Why? What has that to do with—     Was anybody else down there with you?     No. My wife was downtown. My kids were at school. Loyce looked fromone heavy-set cop to the other. Hope flicked across his face, wild hope.You mean because I was down there I missed—the explanation? I didn'tget in on it? Like everybody else?     After a pause the cop with the notebook said: That's right. You missedthe explanation.     Then it's official? The body—it's      supposed     to be hanging there?     It's supposed to be hanging there. For everybody to see.     Ed Loyce grinned weakly. Good Lord. I guess I sort of went off the deepend. I thought maybe something had happened. You know, something likethe Ku Klux Klan. Some kind of violence. Communists or Fascists takingover. He wiped his face with his breast-pocket handkerchief, his handsshaking. I'm glad to know it's on the level.     It's on the level. The police car was getting near the Hall ofJustice. The sun had set. The streets were gloomy and dark. The lightshad not yet come on.     I feel better, Loyce said. I was pretty excited there, for a minute.I guess I got all stirred up. Now that I understand, there's no need totake me in, is there?     The two cops said nothing.     I should be back at my store. The boys haven't had dinner. I'm allright, now. No more trouble. Is there any need of—     This won't take long, the cop behind the wheel interrupted. A shortprocess. Only a few minutes.     I hope it's short, Loyce muttered. The car slowed down for astoplight. I guess I sort of disturbed the peace. Funny, gettingexcited like that and—     Loyce yanked the door open. He sprawled out into the street and rolledto his feet. Cars were moving all around him, gaining speed as the lightchanged. Loyce leaped onto the curb and raced among the people,burrowing into the swarming crowds. Behind him he heard sounds, shouts,people running.     They weren't cops. He had realized that right away. He knew every cop inPikeville. A man couldn't own a store, operate a business in a smalltown for twenty-five years without getting to know all the cops.     They weren't cops—and there hadn't been any explanation. Potter,Fergusson, Jenkins, none of them knew why it was there. They didn'tknow—and they didn't care.      That     was the strange part.     Loyce ducked into a hardware store. He raced toward the back, past thestartled clerks and customers, into the shipping room and through theback door. He tripped over a garbage can and ran up a flight of concretesteps. He climbed over a fence and jumped down on the other side,gasping and panting.     There was no sound behind him. He had got away.     He was at the entrance of an alley, dark and strewn with boards andruined boxes and tires. He could see the street at the far end. A streetlight wavered and came on. Men and women. Stores. Neon signs. Cars.     And to his right—the police station.     He was close, terribly close. Past the loading platform of a grocerystore rose the white concrete side of the Hall of Justice. Barredwindows. The police antenna. A great concrete wall rising up in thedarkness. A bad place for him to be near. He was too close. He had tokeep moving, get farther away from them.       Them?       Loyce moved cautiously down the alley. Beyond the police station was theCity Hall, the old-fashioned yellow structure of wood and gilded brassand broad cement steps. He could see the endless rows of offices, darkwindows, the cedars and beds of flowers on each side of the entrance.     And—something else.     Above the City Hall was a patch of darkness, a cone of gloom denser thanthe surrounding night. A prism of black that spread out and was lostinto the sky.     He listened. Good God, he could hear something. Something that made himstruggle frantically to close his ears, his mind, to shut out the sound.A buzzing. A distant, muted hum like a great swarm of bees.     Loyce gazed up, rigid with horror. The splotch of darkness, hanging overthe City Hall. Darkness so thick it seemed almost solid.      In the vortexsomething moved.     Flickering shapes. Things, descending from the sky,pausing momentarily above the City Hall, fluttering over it in a denseswarm and then dropping silently onto the roof.     Shapes. Fluttering shapes from the sky. From the crack of darkness thathung above him.     He was seeing—them.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the importance of Hogey's feet being trapped in concrete in ""The Hoofer""?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How do the hoofers assist Hogey in returning home? [SEP] <s>  They all  knew he was a spacerbecause of the white goggle markson his sun-scorched face, and sothey tolerated him and helped him.They even made allowances for himwhen he staggered and fell in theaisle of the bus while pursuing theharassed little housewife from seatto seat and cajoling her to sit andtalk with him.     Having fallen, he decided tosleep in the aisle. Two men helpedhim to the back of the bus, dumpedhim on the rear seat, and tucked hisgin bottle safely out of sight. Afterall, he had not seen Earth for ninemonths, and judging by the crustedmatter about his eyelids, he couldn'thave seen it too well now, even ifhe had been sober. Glare-blindness,gravity-legs, and agoraphobia wereexcuses for a lot of things, when aman was just back from Big Bottomless.And who could blame aman for acting strangely?     Minutes later, he was back up theaisle and swaying giddily over thelittle housewife. How! he said.Me Chief Broken Wing. Youwanta Indian wrestle?     The girl, who sat nervously staringat him, smiled wanly, andshook her head.     Quiet li'l pigeon, aren'tcha? heburbled affectionately, crashing intothe seat beside her.     The two men slid out of theirseats, and a hand clamped his shoulder.Come on, Broken Wing, let'sgo back to bed.     My name's Hogey, he said.Big Hogey Parker. I was just kiddingabout being a Indian.     Yeah. Come on, let's go have adrink. They got him on his feet,and led him stumbling back downthe aisle.     My ma was half Cherokee, see?That's how come I said it. Youwanta hear a war whoop? Realstuff.     Never mind.     He cupped his hands to hismouth and favored them with ablood-curdling proof of his ancestry,while the female passengersstirred restlessly and hunched intheir seats. The driver stopped thebus and went back to warn himagainst any further display. Thedriver flashed a deputy's badge andthreatened to turn him over to aconstable.     I gotta get home, Big Hogeytold him. I got me a son now,that's why. You know? A littlebaby pigeon of a son. Haven't seenhim yet.     Will you just sit still and bequiet then, eh?     Big Hogey nodded emphatically.Shorry, officer, I didn't mean tomake any trouble.     When the bus started again, hefell on his side and lay still. Hemade retching sounds for a time,then rested, snoring softly. The busdriver woke him again at Caine'sjunction, retrieved his gin bottlefrom behind the seat, and helpedhim down the aisle and out of thebus.     Big Hogey stumbled about for amoment, then sat down hard in thegravel at the shoulder of the road.The driver paused with one foot onthe step, looking around. There wasnot even a store at the road junction,but only a freight buildingnext to the railroad track, a coupleof farmhouses at the edge of a side-road,and, just across the way, a desertedfilling station with a saggingroof. The land was Great Plainscountry, treeless, barren, and rolling.     Big Hogey got up and staggeredaround in front of the bus, clutchingat it for support, losing hisduffle bag.     Hey, watch the traffic! Thedriver warned. With a surge of unwelcomecompassion he trottedaround after his troublesome passenger,taking his arm as he saggedagain. You crossing?     Yah, Hogey muttered. Lemmealone, I'm okay.     The driver started across thehighway with him. The traffic wassparse, but fast and dangerous inthe central ninety-mile lane.     I'm okay, Hogey kept protesting.I'm a tumbler, ya know?Gravity's got me. Damn gravity.I'm not used to gravity, ya know? Iused to be a tumbler—      huk!     —onlynow I gotta be a hoofer. 'Countof li'l Hogey. You know about li'lHogey?     Yeah. Your son. Come on.     Say, you gotta son? I bet yougotta son.     Two kids, said the driver,catching Hogey's bag as it slippedfrom his shoulder. Both girls.     Say, you oughta be home withthem kids. Man oughta stick withhis family. You oughta get anotherjob. Hogey eyed him owlishly,waggled a moralistic finger, skiddedon the gravel as they steppedonto the opposite shoulder, andsprawled again.     The driver blew a weary breath,looked down at him, and shook hishead. Maybe it'd be kinder to finda constable after all. This guy couldget himself killed, wanderingaround loose.     Somebody supposed to meetyou? he asked, squinting aroundat the dusty hills.           Huk!     —who, me? Hogey giggled,belched, and shook his head.Nope. Nobody knows I'm coming.S'prise. I'm supposed to be here aweek ago. He looked up at thedriver with a pained expression.Week late, ya know? Marie'sgonna be sore—woo-      hoo     !—is shegonna be sore! He waggled hishead severely at the ground.     Which way are you going? thedriver grunted impatiently.     Hogey pointed down the side-roadthat led back into the hills.Marie's pop's place. You knowwhere? 'Bout three miles fromhere. Gotta walk, I guess.     Don't, the driver warned.You sit there by the culvert tillyou get a ride. Okay?     Hogey nodded forlornly.     Now stay out of the road, thedriver warned, then hurried backacross the highway. Moments later,the atomic battery-driven motorsdroned mournfully, and the buspulled away.     Big Hogey blinked after it, rubbingthe back of his neck. Nicepeople, he said. Nice buncha people.All hoofers.     With a grunt and a lurch, he gotto his feet, but his legs wouldn'twork right. With his tumbler's reflexes,he fought to right himselfwith frantic arm motions, but gravityclaimed him, and he went stumblinginto the ditch.     Damn legs, damn crazy legs!he cried.     The bottom of the ditch was wet,and he crawled up the embankmentwith mud-soaked knees, and sat onthe shoulder again. The gin bottlewas still intact. He had himself along fiery drink, and it warmed himdeep down. He blinked around atthe gaunt and treeless land.     The sun was almost down, forge-redon a dusty horizon. The blood-streakedsky faded into sulphurousyellow toward the zenith, and thevery air that hung over the landseemed full of yellow smoke, theomnipresent dust of the plains.     A farm truck turned onto theside-road and moaned away, itsdriver hardly glancing at the darkyoung man who sat swaying on hisduffle bag near the culvert. Hogeyscarcely noticed the vehicle. He justkept staring at the crazy sun.     He shook his head. It wasn't reallythe sun. The sun, the real sun,was a hateful eye-sizzling horror inthe dead black pit. It painted everythingwith pure white pain, and yousaw things by the reflected pain-light.The fat red sun was strictly aphoney, and it didn't fool him any.He hated it for what he knew it wasbehind the gory mask, and for whatit had done to his eyes.      With a grunt, he got to his feet,managed to shoulder the duffle bag,and started off down the middle ofthe farm road, lurching from sideto side, and keeping his eyes on therolling distances. Another car turnedonto the side-road, honking angrily.     Hogey tried to turn around tolook at it, but he forgot to shift hisfooting. He staggered and wentdown on the pavement. The car'stires screeched on the hot asphalt.Hogey lay there for a moment,groaning. That one had hurt hiship. A car door slammed and a bigman with a florid face got out andstalked toward him, looking angry.     What the hell's the matter withyou, fella? he drawled. Yousoused? Man, you've really got aload.     Hogey got up doggedly, shakinghis head to clear it. Space legs, heprevaricated. Got space legs. Can'tstand the gravity.     The burly farmer retrieved hisgin bottle for him, still miraculouslyunbroken. Here's your gravity,he grunted. Listen, fella, you betterget home pronto.     Pronto? Hey, I'm no Mex. Honest,I'm just space burned. Youknow?     Yeah. Say, who are you, anyway?Do you live around here?     It was obvious that the big manhad taken him for a hobo or atramp. Hogey pulled himself together.Goin' to the Hauptman'splace. Marie. You know Marie?     The farmer's eyebrows went up.Marie Hauptman? Sure I knowher. Only she's Marie Parker now.Has been, nigh on six years. Say—He paused, then gaped. You ain'ther husband by any chance?     Hogey, that's me. Big HogeyParker.     Well, I'll be—! Get in the car.I'm going right past John Hauptman'splace. Boy, you're in noshape to walk it.     He grinned wryly, waggled hishead, and helped Hogey and hisbag into the back seat. A womanwith a sun-wrinkled neck sat rigidlybeside the farmer in the front,and she neither greeted the passengernor looked around.     They don't make cars like thisanymore, the farmer called overthe growl of the ancient gasolineengine and the grind of gears.You can have them new atomicswith their loads of hot isotopesunder the seat. Ain't safe, I say—eh,Martha?     The woman with the sun-bakedneck quivered her head slightly.A car like this was good enoughfor Pa, an' I reckon it's goodenough for us, she drawled mournfully.     Five minutes later the car drewin to the side of the road. Reckonyou can walk it from here, thefarmer said. That's Hauptman'sroad just up ahead.     He helped Hogey out of the carand drove away without lookingback to see if Hogey stayed on hisfeet. The woman with the sun-bakedneck was suddenly talkinggarrulously in his direction.     It was twilight. The sun had set,and the yellow sky was turninggray. Hogey was too tired to go on,and his legs would no longer holdhim. He blinked around at the land,got his eyes focused, and foundwhat looked like Hauptman's placeon a distant hillside. It was a bigframe house surrounded by a wheatfield,and a few scrawny trees. Havinglocated it, he stretched out inthe tall grass beyond the ditch totake a little rest.     Somewhere dogs were barking,and a cricket sang creaking monotonyin the grass. Once there was thedistant thunder of a rocket blastfrom the launching station six milesto the west, but it faded quickly. AnA-motored convertible whined paston the road, but Hogey went unseen.     When he awoke, it was night,and he was shivering. His stomachwas screeching, and his nerves dancingwith high voltages. He sat upand groped for his watch, then rememberedhe had pawned it afterthe poker game. Remembering thegame and the results of the gamemade him wince and bite his lipand grope for the bottle again.     He sat breathing heavily for amoment after the stiff drink. Equatingtime to position had becomesecond nature with him, but he hadto think for a moment because hisdefective vision prevented him fromseeing the Earth-crescent.     Vega was almost straight abovehim in the late August sky, so heknew it wasn't much after sundown—probablyabout eight o'clock. Hebraced himself with another swallowof gin, picked himself up andgot back to the road, feeling a littlesobered after the nap.     He limped on up the pavementand turned left at the narrow drivethat led between barbed-wire fencestoward the Hauptman farmhouse,five hundred yards or so from thefarm road. The fields on his leftbelonged to Marie's father, heknew. He was getting close—closeto home and woman and child.     He dropped the bag suddenlyand leaned against a fence post,rolling his head on his forearmsand choking in spasms of air. Hewas shaking all over, and his bellywrithed. He wanted to turn andrun. He wanted to crawl out in thegrass and hide.     What were they going to say?And Marie, Marie most of all.How was he going to tell her aboutthe money?     Six hitches in space, and everytime the promise had been thesame:      One more tour, baby, andwe'll have enough dough, and thenI'll quit for good. One more time,and we'll have our stake—enoughto open a little business, or buy ahouse with a mortgage and get ajob.       And she had waited, but themoney had never been quite enoughuntil this time. This time the tourhad lasted nine months, and he hadsigned on for every run from stationto moon-base to pick up thebonuses. And this time he'd madeit. Two weeks ago, there had beenforty-eight hundred in the bank.And now ...           Why?      he groaned, striking hisforehead against his forearms. Hisarm slipped, and his head hit thetop of the fencepost, and the painblinded him for a moment. He staggeredback into the road with alow roar, wiped blood from hisforehead, and savagely kicked hisbag.     It rolled a couple of yards up theroad. He leaped after it and kickedit again. When he had finishedwith it, he stood panting and angry,but feeling better. He shoulderedthe bag and hiked on toward thefarmhouse.     They're hoofers, that's all—justan Earth-chained bunch of hoofers,even Marie. And I'm a tumbler. Aborn tumbler. Know what thatmeans? It means—God, what doesit mean? It means out in Big Bottomless,where Earth's like a fatmoon with fuzzy mold growing onit. Mold, that's all you are, justmold.     A dog barked, and he wonderedif he had been muttering aloud. Hecame to a fence-gap and paused inthe darkness. The road woundaround and came up the hill infront of the house. Maybe they weresitting on the porch. Maybe they'dalready heard him coming. Maybe ...     He was trembling again. Hefished the fifth of gin out of hiscoat pocket and sloshed it. Still overhalf a pint. He decided to kill it. Itwouldn't do to go home with abottle sticking out of his pocket.He stood there in the night wind,sipping at it, and watching the reddishmoon come up in the east. Themoon looked as phoney as thesetting sun.     He straightened in sudden determination.It had to be sometime.Get it over with, get it over withnow. He opened the fence-gap, slippedthrough, and closed it firmlybehind him. He retrieved his bag,and waded quietly through the tallgrass until he reached the hedgewhich divided an area of sicklypeach trees from the field. He gotover the hedge somehow, and startedthrough the trees toward thehouse. He stumbled over some oldboards, and they clattered.           Shhh!      he hissed, and movedon.     The dogs were barking angrily,and he heard a screen door slam.He stopped.     Ho there! a male voice calledexperimentally from the house.     One of Marie's brothers. Hogeystood frozen in the shadow of apeach tree, waiting.     Anybody out there? the mancalled again.     Hogey waited, then heard theman muttering, Sic 'im, boy, sic'im.     The hound's bark became eager.The animal came chasing down theslope, and stopped ten feet away tocrouch and bark frantically at theshadow in the gloom. He knew thedog.     Hooky! he whispered. Hookyboy—here!     The dog stopped barking, sniffed,trotted closer, and went      Rrrooff!      Then he started sniffingsuspiciously again.     Easy, Hooky, here boy! hewhispered.     The dog came forward silently,sniffed his hand, and whined inrecognition. Then he trotted aroundHogey, panting doggy affection anddancing an invitation to romp. Theman whistled from the porch. Thedog froze, then trotted quickly backup the slope.     Nothing, eh, Hooky? theman on the porch said. Chasin'armadillos again, eh?     The screen door slammed again,and the porch light went out.Hogey stood there staring, unableto think. Somewhere beyond thewindow lights were—his woman,his son.     What the hell was a tumbler doingwith a woman and a son?     After perhaps a minute, he steppedforward again. He tripped overa shovel, and his foot plunged intosomething that went      squelch     andswallowed the foot past the ankle.He fell forward into a heap ofsand, and his foot went deeper intothe sloppy wetness.     He lay there with his stingingforehead on his arms, cursing softlyand crying. Finally he rolledover, pulled his foot out of themess, and took off his shoes. Theywere full of mud—sticky sandymud.     The dark world was reelingabout him, and the wind was draggingat his breath. He fell backagainst the sand pile and let hisfeet sink in the mud hole and wriggledhis toes. He was laughingsoundlessly, and his face was wetin the wind. He couldn't think. Hecouldn't remember where he wasand why, and he stopped caring,and after a while he felt better.     The stars were swimming overhim, dancing crazily, and the mudcooled his feet, and the sand wassoft behind him. He saw a rocketgo up on a tail of flame from thestation, and waited for the sound ofits blast, but he was already asleepwhen it came.     It was far past midnight when hebecame conscious of the dog lickingwetly at his ear and cheek. Hepushed the animal away with a lowcurse and mopped at the side of hisface. He stirred, and groaned. Hisfeet were burning up! He tried topull them toward him, but theywouldn't budge. There was somethingwrong with his legs.     For an instant he stared wildlyaround in the night. Then he rememberedwhere he was, closed hiseyes and shuddered. When heopened them again, the moon hademerged from behind a cloud, andhe could see clearly the cruel trapinto which he had accidentallystumbled. A pile of old boards, acareful stack of new lumber, apick and shovel, a sand-pile, heapsof fresh-turned earth, and a concretemixer—well, it added up.     He gripped his ankles and pulled,but his feet wouldn't budge. Insudden terror, he tried to stand up,but his ankles were clutched by theconcrete too, and he fell back inthe sand with a low moan. He laystill for several minutes, consideringcarefully.     He pulled at his left foot. It waslocked in a vise. He tugged evenmore desperately at his right foot.It was equally immovable.     He sat up with a whimper andclawed at the rough concrete untilhis nails tore and his fingertipsbled. The surface still felt damp,but it had hardened while he slept.     He sat there stunned until Hookybegan licking at his scuffed fingers.He shouldered the dog away, anddug his hands into the sand-pile tostop the bleeding. Hooky licked athis face, panting love.     Get away! he croaked savagely.     The dog whined softly, trotteda short distance away, circled, andcame back to crouch down in thesand directly before Hogey, inchingforward experimentally.     Hogey gripped fistfuls of the drysand and cursed between his teeth,while his eyes wandered over thesky. They came to rest on the sliverof light—the space station—risingin the west, floating out in Big Bottomlesswhere the gang was—Nicholsand Guerrera and Lavrentiand Fats. And he wasn't forgettingKeesey, the rookie who'd replacedhim.     Keesey would have a rough timefor a while—rough as a cob. The pitwas no playground. The first timeyou went out of the station in asuit, the pit got you. Everythingwas falling, and you fell, with it.Everything. The skeletons of steel,the tire-shaped station, the spheresand docks and nightmare shapes—alltied together by umbilical cablesand flexible tubes. Like some crazysea-thing they seemed, floating in ablack ocean with its tentacles boundtogether by drifting strands in thedark tide that bore it.      Everything was pain-bright ordead black, and it wheeled aroundyou, and you went nuts trying tofigure which way was down. In fact,it took you months to teach yourbody that      all     ways were down andthat the pit was bottomless.     He became conscious of a plaintivesound in the wind, and froze tolisten.     It was a baby crying.     It was nearly a minute before hegot the significance of it. It hit himwhere he lived, and he began jerkingfrantically at his encased feetand sobbing low in his throat.They'd hear him if he kept that up.He stopped and covered his ears toclose out the cry of his firstborn. Alight went on in the house, andwhen it went off again, the infant'scry had ceased.     Another rocket went up from thestation, and he cursed it. Space wasa disease, and he had it.     Help! he cried out suddenly.I'm stuck! Help me, help me!     He knew he was yelling hystericallyat the sky and fighting the relentlessconcrete that clutched hisfeet, and after a moment he stopped.     The light was on in the houseagain, and he heard faint sounds.The stirring-about woke the babyagain, and once more the infant'swail came on the breeze.       Make the kid shut up, make thekid shut up ...       But that was no good. It wasn'tthe kid's fault. It wasn't Marie'sfault. No fathers allowed in space,they said, but it wasn't their faulteither. They were right, and he hadonly himself to blame. The kid wasan accident, but that didn't changeanything. Not a thing in the world.It remained a tragedy.     A tumbler had no business with afamily, but what was a man goingto do? Take a skinning knife, boy,and make yourself a eunuch. Butthat was no good either. They neededbulls out there in the pit, notsteers. And when a man came downfrom a year's hitch, what was hegoing to do? Live in a lonely shackand read books for kicks? Becauseyou were a man, you sought out awoman. And because she was awoman, she got a kid, and that wasthe end of it. It was nobody's fault,nobody's at all.     He stared at the red eye of Marslow in the southwest. They wererunning out there now, and nextyear he would have been on thelong long run ...     But there was no use thinkingabout it. Next year and the yearsafter belonged to      little     Hogey.     He sat there with his feet lockedin the solid concrete of the footing,staring out into Big Bottomlesswhile his son's cry came from thehouse and the Hauptman menfolkcame wading through the tall grassin search of someone who had criedout. His feet were stuck tight, andhe wouldn't ever get them out. Hewas sobbing softly when they foundhim.     Transcriber's Note:   This etext was produced from    Fantastic Universe   September 1955.Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling andtypographical errors have been corrected without note.<doc-sep>    A wayfarer's return from a far country to his wife and family may be ashining experience, a kind of second honeymoon. Or it may be so shadowedby Time's relentless tyranny that the changes which have occurred in hisabsence can lead only to tragedy and despair. This rarely discerning, warmlyhuman story by a brilliant newcomer to the science fantasy field is toldwith no pulling of punches, and its adroit unfolding will astound you.         the       hoofer         by ... Walter M. Miller, Jr.         A space rover has no business with a family. But what can a manin the full vigor of youth do—if his heart cries out for a home?    <doc-sep>Hatcher returned to his laboratory gloomily.     It was just like the council to put the screws on; they had areputation for demanding results at any cost—even at the cost ofdestroying the only thing you had that would make results possible.     Hatcher did not like the idea of endangering the Earthman. It cannotbe said that he was emotionally involved; it was not pity or sympathythat caused him to regret the dangers in moving too fast towardcommunication. Not even Hatcher had quite got over the revoltingphysical differences between the Earthman and his own people. ButHatcher did not want him destroyed. It had been difficult enoughgetting him here.     Hatcher checked through the members that he had left with the rest ofhis team and discovered that there were no immediate emergencies, so hetook time to eat. In Hatcher's race this was accomplished in ways notentirely pleasant to Earthmen. A slit in the lower hemisphere of hisbody opened, like a purse, emitting a thin, pussy, fetid fluid whichHatcher caught and poured into a disposal trough at the side of theeating room. He then stuffed the slit with pulpy vegetation the textureof kelp; it closed, and his body was supplied with nourishment foranother day.     He returned quickly to the room.     His second in command was busy, but one of the other team workersreported—nothing new—and asked about Hatcher's appearance before thecouncil. Hatcher passed the question off. He considered telling hisstaff about the disappearance of the Central Masses team member, butdecided against it. He had not been told it was secret. On the otherhand, he had not been told it was not. Something of this importance wasnot lightly to be gossiped about. For endless generations the threatof the Old Ones had hung over his race, those queer, almost mythicalbeings from the Central Masses of the galaxy. One brush with them, inages past, had almost destroyed Hatcher's people. Only by running andhiding, bearing one of their planets with them and abandoning it—withits population—as a decoy, had they arrived at all.     Now they had detected mapping parties of the Old Ones dangerously nearthe spiral arm of the galaxy in which their planet was located, theyhad begun the Probe Teams to find some way of combating them, or offleeing again.     But it seemed that the Probe Teams themselves might be betraying theirexistence to their enemies—     Hatcher!     The call was urgent; he hurried to see what it was about. It was hissecond in command, very excited. What is it? Hatcher demanded.     Wait....     Hatcher was patient; he knew his assistant well. Obviously somethingwas about to happen. He took the moment to call his members back tohim for feeding; they dodged back to their niches on his skin, fittedthemselves into their vestigial slots, poured back their wastes intohis own circulation and ingested what they needed from the meal he hadjust taken.... Now! cried the assistant. Look!     At what passed among Hatcher's people for a viewing console an imagewas forming. Actually it was the assistant himself who formed it, not acathode trace or projected shadow; but it showed what it was meant toshow.     Hatcher was startled. Another one! And—is it a different species? Ormerely a different sex?     Study the probe for yourself, the assistant invited.     Hatcher studied him frostily; his patience was not, after all, endless.No matter, he said at last. Bring the other one in.     And then, in a completely different mood, We may need him badly. Wemay be in the process of killing our first one now.     Killing him, Hatcher?     Hatcher rose and shook himself, his mindless members floating away likepuppies dislodged from suck. Council's orders, he said. We've got togo into Stage Two of the project at once.      III     Before Stage Two began, or before Herrell McCray realized it had begun,he had an inspiration.     The dark was absolute, but he remembered where the spacesuit had beenand groped his way to it and, yes, it had what all spacesuits had tohave. It had a light. He found the toggle that turned it on and pressedit.     Light. White, flaring, Earthly light, that showed everything—evenhimself.     God bless, he said, almost beside himself with joy. Whatever thatpinkish, dancing halo had been, it had thrown him into a panic; nowthat he could see his own hand again, he could blame the weird effectson some strange property of the light.     At the moment he heard the click that was the beginning of Stage Two.     He switched off the light and stood for a moment, listening.     For a second he thought he heard the far-off voice, quiet, calm andalmost hopeless, that he had sensed hours before; but then that wasgone. Something else was gone. Some faint mechanical sound that hadhardly registered at the time, but was not missing. And there was,perhaps, a nice new sound that had not been there before; a veryfaint, an almost inaudible elfin hiss.     McCray switched the light on and looked around. There seemed to be nochange.     And yet, surely, it was warmer in here.     He could see no difference; but perhaps, he thought, he could smellone. The unpleasant halogen odor from the grating was surely strongernow. He stood there, perplexed.     A tinny little voice from the helmet of the space suit said sharply,amazement in its tone, McCray, is that you? Where the devil are youcalling from?     He forgot smell, sound and temperature and leaped for the suit. Thisis Herrell McCray, he cried. I'm in a room of some sort, apparentlyon a planet of approximate Earth mass. I don't know—     McCray! cried the tiny voice in his ear. Where are you? This is      Jodrell Bank     calling. Answer, please!     I      am     answering, damn it, he roared. What took you so long?     Herrell McCray, droned the tiny voice in his ear, Herrell McCray,Herrell McCray, this is      Jodrell Bank     responding to your message,acknowledge please. Herrell McCray, Herrell McCray....     It kept on, and on.     McCray took a deep breath and thought. Something was wrong. Either theydidn't hear him, which meant the radio wasn't transmitting, or—no.That was not it; they      had     heard him, because they were responding.But it seemed to take them so long....     Abruptly his face went white. Took them so long! He cast back in hismind, questing for a fact, unable to face its implications. When wasit he called them? Two hours ago? Three?     Did that mean—did it      possibly     mean—that there was a lag of an houror two each way? Did it, for example, mean that at the speed of hissuit's pararadio, millions of times faster than light, it took      hours     to get a message to the ship and back?     And if so ... where in the name of heaven was he?  <doc-sep>With a start, Jack remembered that it was Mrs. Kesserich telling himall this.     She went on, Martin's love directed his every move. He was building ahome for himself and Mary, and in his mind he was building a wonderfulfuture for them as well—not vaguely, if you know Martin, but year byyear, month by month. This winter, he'd plan, they would visit BuenosAires, next summer they would sail down the inland passage and he wouldteach Mary Hungarian for their trip to Buda-Pesth the year after, wherehe would occupy a chair at the university for a few months ... and soon. Finally the time for their marriage drew near. Martin had beenaway. His research was keeping him very busy—     Jack broke in with, Wasn't that about the time he did his definitivework on growth and fertilization?     Mrs. Kesserich nodded with solemn appreciation in the gatheringdarkness. But now he was coming home, his work done. It was earlyevening, very chilly, but Hani and Hilda felt they had to ride down tothe station to meet their brother. And although she dreaded it, Maryrode with them, for she knew how delighted he would be at her canteringto the puffing train and his running up to lift her down from thesaddle to welcome him home.     Of course there was Martin's luggage to be considered, so the stationwagon had to be sent down for that. She looked defiantly at Jack. Idrove the station wagon. I was Martin's laboratory assistant.     She paused. It was almost dark, but there was still a white coldline of sky to the west. Hani and Hilda, with Mary between them, werewaiting on their horses at the top of the hill that led down to thestation. The train had whistled and its headlight was graying thegravel of the crossing.     Suddenly Mary's horse squealed and plunged down the hill. Hani andHilda followed—to try to catch her, they said, but they didn't managethat, only kept her horse from veering off. Mary never screamed, but asher horse reared on the tracks, I saw her face in the headlight's glare.     Martin must have guessed, or at least feared what had happened, for hewas out of the train and running along the track before it stopped. Infact, he was the first to kneel down beside Mary—I mean, what had beenMary—and was holding her all bloody and shattered in his arms.     A door slammed. There were steps in the hall. Mrs. Kesserich stiffenedand was silent. Jack turned.     The blur of a face hung in the doorway to the hall—a seemingly young,sensitive, suavely handsome face with aristocratic jaw. Then there wasa click and the lights flared up and Jack saw the close-cropped grayhair and the lines around the eyes and nostrils, while the sensitivemouth grew sardonic. Yet the handsomeness stayed, and somehow theyouth, too, or at least a tremendous inner vibrancy.     Hello, Barr, Martin Kesserich said, ignoring his wife.     The great biologist had come home.  <doc-sep>  There was a knock.     Betty bounced up with Olympicagility and had the door swingingwide before the knocking was quitecompleted.     He was old, little and had bugeyes behind pince-nez glasses. Hissuit was cut in the style of yesteryearbut when a suit costs two orthree hundred dollars you still retaincaste whatever the styling.     Simon said unenthusiastically,Good morning, Mr. Oyster. He indicatedthe client's chair. Sit down,sir.     The client fussed himself withBetty's assistance into the seat, bug-eyedSimon, said finally, You knowmy name, that's pretty good. Neversaw you before in my life. Stop fussingwith me, young lady. Your adin the phone book says you'll investigateanything.     Anything, Simon said. Onlyone exception.     Excellent. Do you believe in timetravel?     Simon said nothing. Across theroom, where she had resumed herseat, Betty cleared her throat. WhenSimon continued to say nothing sheventured, Time travel is impossible.     Why?     Why?     Yes, why?     Betty looked to her boss for assistance.None was forthcoming. Thereought to be some very quick, positive,definite answer. She said, Well,for one thing, paradox. Suppose youhad a time machine and traveled backa hundred years or so and killed yourown great-grandfather. Then howcould you ever be born?     Confound it if I know, the littlefellow growled. How?     Simon said, Let's get to the point,what you wanted to see me about.     I want to hire you to hunt me upsome time travelers, the old boysaid.     Betty was too far in now to maintainher proper role of silent secretary.Time travelers, she said, notvery intelligently.     The potential client sat more erect,obviously with intent to hold thefloor for a time. He removed thepince-nez glasses and pointed themat Betty. He said, Have you readmuch science fiction, Miss?     Some, Betty admitted.     Then you'll realize that there area dozen explanations of the paradoxesof time travel. Every writer inthe field worth his salt has explainedthem away. But to get on. It's mycontention that within a century orso man will have solved the problemsof immortality and eternal youth, andit's also my suspicion that he willeventually be able to travel in time.So convinced am I of these possibilitiesthat I am willing to gamble aportion of my fortune to investigatethe presence in our era of such timetravelers.     Simon seemed incapable of carryingthe ball this morning, so Bettysaid, But ... Mr. Oyster, if thefuture has developed time travel whydon't we ever meet such travelers?     Simon put in a word. The usualexplanation, Betty, is that they can'tafford to allow the space-time continuumtrack to be altered. If, say, atime traveler returned to a period oftwenty-five years ago and shot Hitler,then all subsequent history would bechanged. In that case, the time travelerhimself might never be born. Theyhave to tread mighty carefully.     Mr. Oyster was pleased. I didn'texpect you to be so well informedon the subject, young man.     Simon shrugged and fumbledagain with the aspirin bottle. <doc-sep>Consul Passwyn glanced up at Retief, went on perusing a paper.     Sit down, Retief, he said absently. I thought you were over onPueblo, or Mud-flat, or whatever they call that desert.     I'm back.     Passwyn eyed him sharply. Well, well, what is it you need, man? Speakup. Don't expect me to request any military assistance, no matter howthings are....     Retief passed a bundle of documents across the desk. Here's theTreaty. And a Mutual Assistance Pact declaration and a trade agreement.     Eh? Passwyn picked up the papers, riffled through them. He leanedback in his chair, beamed.     Well, Retief. Expeditiously handled. He stopped, blinked at Retief.You seem to have a bruise on your jaw. I hope you've been conductingyourself as befits a member of the Embassy staff.     I attended a sporting event, Retief said. One of the players got alittle excited.     Well ... it's one of the hazards of the profession. One mustpretend an interest in such matters. Passwyn rose, extended a hand.You've done well, my boy. Let this teach you the value of followinginstructions to the letter.     Outside, by the hall incinerator drop, Retief paused long enough totake from his briefcase a large buff envelope, still sealed, and dropit in the slot.   <doc-sep>A group of Sirians was traveling on the shelf above him on the slow,very slow jet bus that was flying Michael back to Angeles, back to theLodge, back to the Brotherhood, back to her. Their melancholy howlingwas getting on his nerves, but in a little while, he told himself, itwould be all over. He would be back home, safe with his own kind.     When our minds have grown tired, when our lives have expired, when oursorrows no longer can weary us, let our ashes return, neatly packed inan urn, to the bright purple swamps of our Sirius.     The advideo crackled: The gown her fairy godmother once gave toCinderella was created by the haute couture of fashion-wise Capella.     The ancient taxi was there, the one that Michael had taken from theLodge, early that morning, to the little Angeleno landing field, as ifit had been waiting for his return.     I see you're back, son, the driver said without surprise. He set thenoisy old rockets blasting. I been to Portyork once. It's not a badplace to live in, but I hate to visit it.     I'm back! Michael sank into the motheaten sable cushions and gazedwith pleasure at the familiar landmarks half seen in the darkness. I'mback! And a loud sneer to civilization!     Better be careful, son, the driver warned. I know this is a ruralarea, but civilization is spreading. There are secret police all over.How do you know I ain't a government spy? I could pull you in forinsulting civilization.     The elderly black and white advideo flickered, broke into purringsound: Do you find life continues to daze you? Do you find for a quickdeath you hanker? Why not try the new style euthanasia, performed byskilled workmen from Ancha?     Not any more, Michael thought contentedly. He was going home.  <doc-sep>The round face of the barkeeper had assumed an aggrieved expression.     Folks are always thinkin' the other feller's out to do 'em, he said,shaking his head. Lemme explain about the water here. It's bitteras some kinds of sin before it's purified. Have to bring it in withbuckets and make it sweet. That takes time and labor. Waddya think—Iwas chargin' feller critters for water just out of devilment? I chargebecause I gotta.     Friend, said Harvey, taking out a wallet and counting off eightfive-bucko bills, here is your money. What's fair is fair, and youhave put a different complexion on what seemed at first to be anunconscionable interjection of a middleman between Nature and man'sthirst.     The saloon man removed his dirty apron and came around the bar.     If that's an apology, I accept it. Now the mayor'll discuss fillingyour tanks. That's me. I'm also justice of the peace, officialrecorder, fire chief....     And chief of police, no doubt, said Harvey jocosely.     Nope. That's my son, Jed. Angus Johnson's my name. Folks here justcall me Chief. I run this town, and run it right. How much water willyou need?     Joe estimated quickly. About seventy-five liters, if we go on halfrations, he answered. He waited apprehensively.     Let's say ten buckos a liter, the mayor said. On account of thequantity, I'm able to quote a bargain price. Shucks, boys, it hurts memore to charge for water than it does for you to pay. I just got to,that's all.     The mayor gestured to the native, who shuffled out to the tanks withthem. The planetoid man worked the pump while the mayor intentlywatched the crude level-gauge, crying Stop! when it registered theproper amount. Then Johnson rubbed his thumb on his index finger andwetted his lips expectantly.     Harvey bravely counted off the bills. He asked: But what are we todo about replenishing our battery fluid? Ten buckos a liter would bepreposterous. We simply can't afford it.     Johnson's response almost floored them. Who said anything aboutcharging you for battery water? You can have all you want for nothing.It's just the purified stuff that comes so high.     After giving them directions that would take them to the free-waterpool, the ponderous factotum of Planetoid 42 shook hands and headedback to the saloon. His six-armed assistant followed him inside.     Now do you see, my hot-tempered colleague? said Harvey as he and Joepicked up buckets that hung on the tank. Johnson, as I saw instantly,is the victim of a difficult environment, and must charge accordingly.     Just the same, Joe griped, paying for water isn't something you canget used to in ten minutes.     In the fragile forest, they soon came across a stream that sprang fromthe igneous soil and splashed into the small pond whose contents,according to the mayor, was theirs for the asking. They filled theirbuckets and hauled them to the ship, then returned for more.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How do the hoofers assist Hogey in returning home?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What distinguishes a hoofer from a tumbler? [SEP] <s>  They all  knew he was a spacerbecause of the white goggle markson his sun-scorched face, and sothey tolerated him and helped him.They even made allowances for himwhen he staggered and fell in theaisle of the bus while pursuing theharassed little housewife from seatto seat and cajoling her to sit andtalk with him.     Having fallen, he decided tosleep in the aisle. Two men helpedhim to the back of the bus, dumpedhim on the rear seat, and tucked hisgin bottle safely out of sight. Afterall, he had not seen Earth for ninemonths, and judging by the crustedmatter about his eyelids, he couldn'thave seen it too well now, even ifhe had been sober. Glare-blindness,gravity-legs, and agoraphobia wereexcuses for a lot of things, when aman was just back from Big Bottomless.And who could blame aman for acting strangely?     Minutes later, he was back up theaisle and swaying giddily over thelittle housewife. How! he said.Me Chief Broken Wing. Youwanta Indian wrestle?     The girl, who sat nervously staringat him, smiled wanly, andshook her head.     Quiet li'l pigeon, aren'tcha? heburbled affectionately, crashing intothe seat beside her.     The two men slid out of theirseats, and a hand clamped his shoulder.Come on, Broken Wing, let'sgo back to bed.     My name's Hogey, he said.Big Hogey Parker. I was just kiddingabout being a Indian.     Yeah. Come on, let's go have adrink. They got him on his feet,and led him stumbling back downthe aisle.     My ma was half Cherokee, see?That's how come I said it. Youwanta hear a war whoop? Realstuff.     Never mind.     He cupped his hands to hismouth and favored them with ablood-curdling proof of his ancestry,while the female passengersstirred restlessly and hunched intheir seats. The driver stopped thebus and went back to warn himagainst any further display. Thedriver flashed a deputy's badge andthreatened to turn him over to aconstable.     I gotta get home, Big Hogeytold him. I got me a son now,that's why. You know? A littlebaby pigeon of a son. Haven't seenhim yet.     Will you just sit still and bequiet then, eh?     Big Hogey nodded emphatically.Shorry, officer, I didn't mean tomake any trouble.     When the bus started again, hefell on his side and lay still. Hemade retching sounds for a time,then rested, snoring softly. The busdriver woke him again at Caine'sjunction, retrieved his gin bottlefrom behind the seat, and helpedhim down the aisle and out of thebus.     Big Hogey stumbled about for amoment, then sat down hard in thegravel at the shoulder of the road.The driver paused with one foot onthe step, looking around. There wasnot even a store at the road junction,but only a freight buildingnext to the railroad track, a coupleof farmhouses at the edge of a side-road,and, just across the way, a desertedfilling station with a saggingroof. The land was Great Plainscountry, treeless, barren, and rolling.     Big Hogey got up and staggeredaround in front of the bus, clutchingat it for support, losing hisduffle bag.     Hey, watch the traffic! Thedriver warned. With a surge of unwelcomecompassion he trottedaround after his troublesome passenger,taking his arm as he saggedagain. You crossing?     Yah, Hogey muttered. Lemmealone, I'm okay.     The driver started across thehighway with him. The traffic wassparse, but fast and dangerous inthe central ninety-mile lane.     I'm okay, Hogey kept protesting.I'm a tumbler, ya know?Gravity's got me. Damn gravity.I'm not used to gravity, ya know? Iused to be a tumbler—      huk!     —onlynow I gotta be a hoofer. 'Countof li'l Hogey. You know about li'lHogey?     Yeah. Your son. Come on.     Say, you gotta son? I bet yougotta son.     Two kids, said the driver,catching Hogey's bag as it slippedfrom his shoulder. Both girls.     Say, you oughta be home withthem kids. Man oughta stick withhis family. You oughta get anotherjob. Hogey eyed him owlishly,waggled a moralistic finger, skiddedon the gravel as they steppedonto the opposite shoulder, andsprawled again.     The driver blew a weary breath,looked down at him, and shook hishead. Maybe it'd be kinder to finda constable after all. This guy couldget himself killed, wanderingaround loose.     Somebody supposed to meetyou? he asked, squinting aroundat the dusty hills.           Huk!     —who, me? Hogey giggled,belched, and shook his head.Nope. Nobody knows I'm coming.S'prise. I'm supposed to be here aweek ago. He looked up at thedriver with a pained expression.Week late, ya know? Marie'sgonna be sore—woo-      hoo     !—is shegonna be sore! He waggled hishead severely at the ground.     Which way are you going? thedriver grunted impatiently.     Hogey pointed down the side-roadthat led back into the hills.Marie's pop's place. You knowwhere? 'Bout three miles fromhere. Gotta walk, I guess.     Don't, the driver warned.You sit there by the culvert tillyou get a ride. Okay?     Hogey nodded forlornly.     Now stay out of the road, thedriver warned, then hurried backacross the highway. Moments later,the atomic battery-driven motorsdroned mournfully, and the buspulled away.     Big Hogey blinked after it, rubbingthe back of his neck. Nicepeople, he said. Nice buncha people.All hoofers.     With a grunt and a lurch, he gotto his feet, but his legs wouldn'twork right. With his tumbler's reflexes,he fought to right himselfwith frantic arm motions, but gravityclaimed him, and he went stumblinginto the ditch.     Damn legs, damn crazy legs!he cried.     The bottom of the ditch was wet,and he crawled up the embankmentwith mud-soaked knees, and sat onthe shoulder again. The gin bottlewas still intact. He had himself along fiery drink, and it warmed himdeep down. He blinked around atthe gaunt and treeless land.     The sun was almost down, forge-redon a dusty horizon. The blood-streakedsky faded into sulphurousyellow toward the zenith, and thevery air that hung over the landseemed full of yellow smoke, theomnipresent dust of the plains.     A farm truck turned onto theside-road and moaned away, itsdriver hardly glancing at the darkyoung man who sat swaying on hisduffle bag near the culvert. Hogeyscarcely noticed the vehicle. He justkept staring at the crazy sun.     He shook his head. It wasn't reallythe sun. The sun, the real sun,was a hateful eye-sizzling horror inthe dead black pit. It painted everythingwith pure white pain, and yousaw things by the reflected pain-light.The fat red sun was strictly aphoney, and it didn't fool him any.He hated it for what he knew it wasbehind the gory mask, and for whatit had done to his eyes.      With a grunt, he got to his feet,managed to shoulder the duffle bag,and started off down the middle ofthe farm road, lurching from sideto side, and keeping his eyes on therolling distances. Another car turnedonto the side-road, honking angrily.     Hogey tried to turn around tolook at it, but he forgot to shift hisfooting. He staggered and wentdown on the pavement. The car'stires screeched on the hot asphalt.Hogey lay there for a moment,groaning. That one had hurt hiship. A car door slammed and a bigman with a florid face got out andstalked toward him, looking angry.     What the hell's the matter withyou, fella? he drawled. Yousoused? Man, you've really got aload.     Hogey got up doggedly, shakinghis head to clear it. Space legs, heprevaricated. Got space legs. Can'tstand the gravity.     The burly farmer retrieved hisgin bottle for him, still miraculouslyunbroken. Here's your gravity,he grunted. Listen, fella, you betterget home pronto.     Pronto? Hey, I'm no Mex. Honest,I'm just space burned. Youknow?     Yeah. Say, who are you, anyway?Do you live around here?     It was obvious that the big manhad taken him for a hobo or atramp. Hogey pulled himself together.Goin' to the Hauptman'splace. Marie. You know Marie?     The farmer's eyebrows went up.Marie Hauptman? Sure I knowher. Only she's Marie Parker now.Has been, nigh on six years. Say—He paused, then gaped. You ain'ther husband by any chance?     Hogey, that's me. Big HogeyParker.     Well, I'll be—! Get in the car.I'm going right past John Hauptman'splace. Boy, you're in noshape to walk it.     He grinned wryly, waggled hishead, and helped Hogey and hisbag into the back seat. A womanwith a sun-wrinkled neck sat rigidlybeside the farmer in the front,and she neither greeted the passengernor looked around.     They don't make cars like thisanymore, the farmer called overthe growl of the ancient gasolineengine and the grind of gears.You can have them new atomicswith their loads of hot isotopesunder the seat. Ain't safe, I say—eh,Martha?     The woman with the sun-bakedneck quivered her head slightly.A car like this was good enoughfor Pa, an' I reckon it's goodenough for us, she drawled mournfully.     Five minutes later the car drewin to the side of the road. Reckonyou can walk it from here, thefarmer said. That's Hauptman'sroad just up ahead.     He helped Hogey out of the carand drove away without lookingback to see if Hogey stayed on hisfeet. The woman with the sun-bakedneck was suddenly talkinggarrulously in his direction.     It was twilight. The sun had set,and the yellow sky was turninggray. Hogey was too tired to go on,and his legs would no longer holdhim. He blinked around at the land,got his eyes focused, and foundwhat looked like Hauptman's placeon a distant hillside. It was a bigframe house surrounded by a wheatfield,and a few scrawny trees. Havinglocated it, he stretched out inthe tall grass beyond the ditch totake a little rest.     Somewhere dogs were barking,and a cricket sang creaking monotonyin the grass. Once there was thedistant thunder of a rocket blastfrom the launching station six milesto the west, but it faded quickly. AnA-motored convertible whined paston the road, but Hogey went unseen.     When he awoke, it was night,and he was shivering. His stomachwas screeching, and his nerves dancingwith high voltages. He sat upand groped for his watch, then rememberedhe had pawned it afterthe poker game. Remembering thegame and the results of the gamemade him wince and bite his lipand grope for the bottle again.     He sat breathing heavily for amoment after the stiff drink. Equatingtime to position had becomesecond nature with him, but he hadto think for a moment because hisdefective vision prevented him fromseeing the Earth-crescent.     Vega was almost straight abovehim in the late August sky, so heknew it wasn't much after sundown—probablyabout eight o'clock. Hebraced himself with another swallowof gin, picked himself up andgot back to the road, feeling a littlesobered after the nap.     He limped on up the pavementand turned left at the narrow drivethat led between barbed-wire fencestoward the Hauptman farmhouse,five hundred yards or so from thefarm road. The fields on his leftbelonged to Marie's father, heknew. He was getting close—closeto home and woman and child.     He dropped the bag suddenlyand leaned against a fence post,rolling his head on his forearmsand choking in spasms of air. Hewas shaking all over, and his bellywrithed. He wanted to turn andrun. He wanted to crawl out in thegrass and hide.     What were they going to say?And Marie, Marie most of all.How was he going to tell her aboutthe money?     Six hitches in space, and everytime the promise had been thesame:      One more tour, baby, andwe'll have enough dough, and thenI'll quit for good. One more time,and we'll have our stake—enoughto open a little business, or buy ahouse with a mortgage and get ajob.       And she had waited, but themoney had never been quite enoughuntil this time. This time the tourhad lasted nine months, and he hadsigned on for every run from stationto moon-base to pick up thebonuses. And this time he'd madeit. Two weeks ago, there had beenforty-eight hundred in the bank.And now ...           Why?      he groaned, striking hisforehead against his forearms. Hisarm slipped, and his head hit thetop of the fencepost, and the painblinded him for a moment. He staggeredback into the road with alow roar, wiped blood from hisforehead, and savagely kicked hisbag.     It rolled a couple of yards up theroad. He leaped after it and kickedit again. When he had finishedwith it, he stood panting and angry,but feeling better. He shoulderedthe bag and hiked on toward thefarmhouse.     They're hoofers, that's all—justan Earth-chained bunch of hoofers,even Marie. And I'm a tumbler. Aborn tumbler. Know what thatmeans? It means—God, what doesit mean? It means out in Big Bottomless,where Earth's like a fatmoon with fuzzy mold growing onit. Mold, that's all you are, justmold.     A dog barked, and he wonderedif he had been muttering aloud. Hecame to a fence-gap and paused inthe darkness. The road woundaround and came up the hill infront of the house. Maybe they weresitting on the porch. Maybe they'dalready heard him coming. Maybe ...     He was trembling again. Hefished the fifth of gin out of hiscoat pocket and sloshed it. Still overhalf a pint. He decided to kill it. Itwouldn't do to go home with abottle sticking out of his pocket.He stood there in the night wind,sipping at it, and watching the reddishmoon come up in the east. Themoon looked as phoney as thesetting sun.     He straightened in sudden determination.It had to be sometime.Get it over with, get it over withnow. He opened the fence-gap, slippedthrough, and closed it firmlybehind him. He retrieved his bag,and waded quietly through the tallgrass until he reached the hedgewhich divided an area of sicklypeach trees from the field. He gotover the hedge somehow, and startedthrough the trees toward thehouse. He stumbled over some oldboards, and they clattered.           Shhh!      he hissed, and movedon.     The dogs were barking angrily,and he heard a screen door slam.He stopped.     Ho there! a male voice calledexperimentally from the house.     One of Marie's brothers. Hogeystood frozen in the shadow of apeach tree, waiting.     Anybody out there? the mancalled again.     Hogey waited, then heard theman muttering, Sic 'im, boy, sic'im.     The hound's bark became eager.The animal came chasing down theslope, and stopped ten feet away tocrouch and bark frantically at theshadow in the gloom. He knew thedog.     Hooky! he whispered. Hookyboy—here!     The dog stopped barking, sniffed,trotted closer, and went      Rrrooff!      Then he started sniffingsuspiciously again.     Easy, Hooky, here boy! hewhispered.     The dog came forward silently,sniffed his hand, and whined inrecognition. Then he trotted aroundHogey, panting doggy affection anddancing an invitation to romp. Theman whistled from the porch. Thedog froze, then trotted quickly backup the slope.     Nothing, eh, Hooky? theman on the porch said. Chasin'armadillos again, eh?     The screen door slammed again,and the porch light went out.Hogey stood there staring, unableto think. Somewhere beyond thewindow lights were—his woman,his son.     What the hell was a tumbler doingwith a woman and a son?     After perhaps a minute, he steppedforward again. He tripped overa shovel, and his foot plunged intosomething that went      squelch     andswallowed the foot past the ankle.He fell forward into a heap ofsand, and his foot went deeper intothe sloppy wetness.     He lay there with his stingingforehead on his arms, cursing softlyand crying. Finally he rolledover, pulled his foot out of themess, and took off his shoes. Theywere full of mud—sticky sandymud.     The dark world was reelingabout him, and the wind was draggingat his breath. He fell backagainst the sand pile and let hisfeet sink in the mud hole and wriggledhis toes. He was laughingsoundlessly, and his face was wetin the wind. He couldn't think. Hecouldn't remember where he wasand why, and he stopped caring,and after a while he felt better.     The stars were swimming overhim, dancing crazily, and the mudcooled his feet, and the sand wassoft behind him. He saw a rocketgo up on a tail of flame from thestation, and waited for the sound ofits blast, but he was already asleepwhen it came.     It was far past midnight when hebecame conscious of the dog lickingwetly at his ear and cheek. Hepushed the animal away with a lowcurse and mopped at the side of hisface. He stirred, and groaned. Hisfeet were burning up! He tried topull them toward him, but theywouldn't budge. There was somethingwrong with his legs.     For an instant he stared wildlyaround in the night. Then he rememberedwhere he was, closed hiseyes and shuddered. When heopened them again, the moon hademerged from behind a cloud, andhe could see clearly the cruel trapinto which he had accidentallystumbled. A pile of old boards, acareful stack of new lumber, apick and shovel, a sand-pile, heapsof fresh-turned earth, and a concretemixer—well, it added up.     He gripped his ankles and pulled,but his feet wouldn't budge. Insudden terror, he tried to stand up,but his ankles were clutched by theconcrete too, and he fell back inthe sand with a low moan. He laystill for several minutes, consideringcarefully.     He pulled at his left foot. It waslocked in a vise. He tugged evenmore desperately at his right foot.It was equally immovable.     He sat up with a whimper andclawed at the rough concrete untilhis nails tore and his fingertipsbled. The surface still felt damp,but it had hardened while he slept.     He sat there stunned until Hookybegan licking at his scuffed fingers.He shouldered the dog away, anddug his hands into the sand-pile tostop the bleeding. Hooky licked athis face, panting love.     Get away! he croaked savagely.     The dog whined softly, trotteda short distance away, circled, andcame back to crouch down in thesand directly before Hogey, inchingforward experimentally.     Hogey gripped fistfuls of the drysand and cursed between his teeth,while his eyes wandered over thesky. They came to rest on the sliverof light—the space station—risingin the west, floating out in Big Bottomlesswhere the gang was—Nicholsand Guerrera and Lavrentiand Fats. And he wasn't forgettingKeesey, the rookie who'd replacedhim.     Keesey would have a rough timefor a while—rough as a cob. The pitwas no playground. The first timeyou went out of the station in asuit, the pit got you. Everythingwas falling, and you fell, with it.Everything. The skeletons of steel,the tire-shaped station, the spheresand docks and nightmare shapes—alltied together by umbilical cablesand flexible tubes. Like some crazysea-thing they seemed, floating in ablack ocean with its tentacles boundtogether by drifting strands in thedark tide that bore it.      Everything was pain-bright ordead black, and it wheeled aroundyou, and you went nuts trying tofigure which way was down. In fact,it took you months to teach yourbody that      all     ways were down andthat the pit was bottomless.     He became conscious of a plaintivesound in the wind, and froze tolisten.     It was a baby crying.     It was nearly a minute before hegot the significance of it. It hit himwhere he lived, and he began jerkingfrantically at his encased feetand sobbing low in his throat.They'd hear him if he kept that up.He stopped and covered his ears toclose out the cry of his firstborn. Alight went on in the house, andwhen it went off again, the infant'scry had ceased.     Another rocket went up from thestation, and he cursed it. Space wasa disease, and he had it.     Help! he cried out suddenly.I'm stuck! Help me, help me!     He knew he was yelling hystericallyat the sky and fighting the relentlessconcrete that clutched hisfeet, and after a moment he stopped.     The light was on in the houseagain, and he heard faint sounds.The stirring-about woke the babyagain, and once more the infant'swail came on the breeze.       Make the kid shut up, make thekid shut up ...       But that was no good. It wasn'tthe kid's fault. It wasn't Marie'sfault. No fathers allowed in space,they said, but it wasn't their faulteither. They were right, and he hadonly himself to blame. The kid wasan accident, but that didn't changeanything. Not a thing in the world.It remained a tragedy.     A tumbler had no business with afamily, but what was a man goingto do? Take a skinning knife, boy,and make yourself a eunuch. Butthat was no good either. They neededbulls out there in the pit, notsteers. And when a man came downfrom a year's hitch, what was hegoing to do? Live in a lonely shackand read books for kicks? Becauseyou were a man, you sought out awoman. And because she was awoman, she got a kid, and that wasthe end of it. It was nobody's fault,nobody's at all.     He stared at the red eye of Marslow in the southwest. They wererunning out there now, and nextyear he would have been on thelong long run ...     But there was no use thinkingabout it. Next year and the yearsafter belonged to      little     Hogey.     He sat there with his feet lockedin the solid concrete of the footing,staring out into Big Bottomlesswhile his son's cry came from thehouse and the Hauptman menfolkcame wading through the tall grassin search of someone who had criedout. His feet were stuck tight, andhe wouldn't ever get them out. Hewas sobbing softly when they foundhim.     Transcriber's Note:   This etext was produced from    Fantastic Universe   September 1955.Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling andtypographical errors have been corrected without note.<doc-sep>    A wayfarer's return from a far country to his wife and family may be ashining experience, a kind of second honeymoon. Or it may be so shadowedby Time's relentless tyranny that the changes which have occurred in hisabsence can lead only to tragedy and despair. This rarely discerning, warmlyhuman story by a brilliant newcomer to the science fantasy field is toldwith no pulling of punches, and its adroit unfolding will astound you.         the       hoofer         by ... Walter M. Miller, Jr.         A space rover has no business with a family. But what can a manin the full vigor of youth do—if his heart cries out for a home?    <doc-sep>Manet suspected hallucination, but in an existence with all the palliddispassion of a requited love he was happy to welcome dementia.Sometimes he even manufactured it. Sometimes he would run through thearteries of the factory and play that it had suddenly gone mad hatinghuman beings, and was about to close down its bulkheads on him as sureas the Engineers' Thumb and bale up the pressure-dehydrated digest,making so much stall flooring of him. He ran until he dropped with akind of climaxing release of terror.     So Manet put on the pressure suit he had been given because he wouldnever need it, and marched out to meet the visiting spaceship.     He wasn't quite clear how he came from walking effortlessly acrossthe Martian plain that had all the distance-perpetuating qualities ofa kid's crank movie machine to the comfortable interior of a strangecabin. Not a ship's cabin but a Northwoods cabin.     The black and orange Hallowe'en log charring in the slate stonefireplace seemed real. So did the lean man with the smiling mustachepainted with the random designs of the fire, standing before thehorizontal pattern of chinked wall.     Need a fresher? the host inquired.     Manet's eyes wondered down to heavy water tumbler full of rich, amberwhiskey full of sparks from the hearth. He stirred himself in thecomfortingly warm leather chair. No, no, I'm      fine     . He let the wordhang there for examination. Pardon me, but could you tell me just whatplace this is?     The host shrugged. It was the only word for it. Whatever place youchoose it to be, so long as you're with Trader Tom. 'Service,' that'smy motto. It is a way of life with me.     Trader Tom? Service?     Yes! That's it exactly. It's      me     exactly. Trader Tom Service—Servingthe Wants of the Spaceman Between the Stars. Of course, 'stars' ispoetic. Any point of light in the sky in a star. We service theplanets.     Manet took the tumbler in both hands and drank. It was good whiskey,immensely powerful. The government wouldn't pay for somebody servingthe wants of spacemen, he exploded.     Ah, Trader Tom said, cautionary. He moved nearer the fire and warmedhis hands and buttocks. Ah, but I am not a      government     service. Irepresent free enterprise.  <doc-sep>  Staying  alive had now become a fetishwith Jon.     On the sixteenth day, the Earthman realizedthat the Steel-Blues also were waitingfor the SP ship.     The extra-terrestrials had repaired theblue ship where the service station atomicray had struck. And they were doing a littletarget practice with plastic bubbles only afew miles above the asteroid.     When his chronometer clocked off thebeginning of the twenty-first day, Jon receiveda tumbler of the hemlock from thehands of No. 1 himself.     It is the hemlock, he chuckled, undiluted.Drink it and your torture is over.You will die before your SP ship is destroyed.     We have played with you long enough.Today we begin to toy with your SP ship.Drink up, Earthman, drink to enslavement.     Weak though he was Jon lunged to hisfeet, spilling the tumbler of liquid. It rancool along the plastic arm of his space suit.He changed his mind about throwing thecontents on No. 1.     With a smile he set the glass at his lipsand drank. Then he laughed at No. 1.     The SP ship will turn your ship intojelly.     No. 1 swept out, chuckling. Boast if youwill, Earthman, it's your last chance.     There was an exultation in Jon's heartthat deadened the hunger and washed awaythe nausea.     At last he knew what the hemlock was.     He sat on the pallet adjusting the littlepower-pack radio. The SP ship should nowbe within range of the set. The space patrolwas notorious for its accuracy in keeping toschedule. Seconds counted like years. Theyhad to be on the nose, or it meant disasteror death.     He sent out the call letters.     AX to SP-101 ... AX to SP-101 ... AXto SP-101 ...     Three times he sent the call, then begansending his message, hoping that his signalwas reaching the ship. He couldn't know ifthey answered. Though the power packcould get out a message over a vast distance,it could not pick up messages evenwhen backed by an SP ship's power unlessthe ship was only a few hundred milesaway.     The power pack was strictly a distresssignal.     He didn't know how long he'd beensending, nor how many times his wearyvoice had repeated the short but desperatemessage.     He kept watching the heavens and hoping.     Abruptly he knew the SP ship was coming,for the blue ship of the Steel-Blues wasrising silently from the asteroid.     Up and up it rose, then flames flickeredin a circle about its curious shape. The shipdisappeared, suddenly accelerating.     Jon Karyl strained his eyes.     Finally he looked away from the heavensto the two Steel-Blues who stood negligentlyoutside the goldfish bowl.     Once more, Jon used the stubray pistol.He marched out of the plastic igloo and rantoward the service station.     He didn't know how weak he was untilhe stumbled and fell only a few feet fromhis prison.     The Steel-Blues just watched him.     He crawled on, around the circular pit inthe sward of the asteroid where one Steel-Bluehad shown him the power of hisweapon.     He'd been crawling through a nightmarefor years when the quiet voice penetratedhis dulled mind.     Take it easy, Karyl. You're amongfriends.     He pried open his eyes with his will. Hesaw the blue and gold of a space guard'suniform. He sighed and drifted into unconsciousness.   <doc-sep>The room was six feet in all directions and the walls were five feethigh. The other foot was finished in chicken wire. There was a winosinging on the left, a wino praying on the right, and the door didn'thave any lock on it. At last, Doc and I were alone.     I laid Doc out on the gray-brown cot and put his forearm over his faceto shield it some from the glare of the light bulb. I swept off all thebedbugs in sight and stepped on them heavily.     Then I dropped down into the painted stool chair and let my burningeyes rest on the obscene wall drawings just to focus them. I was sodirty, I could feel the grime grinding together all over me. My shaggyscalp still smarted from the alcohol I had stolen from a convertible'sgas tank to get rid of Doc's and my cooties. Lucky that I never neededto shave and that my face was so dirty, no one would even notice that Ididn't need to.     The cramp hit me and I folded out of the chair onto the littered,uncovered floor.     It stopped hurting, but I knew it would begin if I moved. I stared at ajagged cut-out nude curled against a lump of dust and lint, giving itan unreal distortion.     Doc began to mumble louder.     I knew I had to move.     I waited just a moment, savoring the painless peace. Then, finally, Imoved.     I was bent double, but I got from the floor to the chair and foundmy notebook and orb-point in my hands. I found I couldn't focus bothmy mind and my eyes through the electric flashes of agony, so Iconcentrated on Doc's voice and trusted my hands would follow theirhabit pattern and construct the symbols for his words. They weresuddenly distinguishable.             Outsider     ...      Thoth     ...      Dyzan     ...      Seven     ...      Hsan     ...      Beyond Six, Seven, Eight     ...      Two boxes     ...      Ralston     ...      RichardWentworth     ...      Jimmy Christopher     ...      Kent Allard     ...      Ayem     ...      Oh, are     ...      see     ....  <doc-sep>  There  was a hiss. Simultaneously, as thetiny microphone on the outside of hissuit picked up the hiss, he felt a chill gothrough his body. Then it seemed as if ahalf dozen hands were inside him, examininghis internal organs. His stomach contracted.He felt a squeeze on his heart. Hislungs tickled.     There were several more queer motionsinside his body.     Then another Steel-Blue voice said:     He is a soft-metal creature, made up ofmetals that melt at a very low temperature.He also contains a liquid whose makeup Icannot ascertain by ray-probe. Bring himback when the torture is done.     Jon Karyl grinned a trifle wryly. Whatkind of torture could this be?     Would it last 21 days? He glanced at thechronometer on his wrist.     Jon's Steel-Blue led him out of the alienship and halted expectantly just outside theship's lock.     Jon Karyl waited, too. He thought of thestubray pistol holstered at his hip. Shoot myway out? It'd be fun while it lasted. But hetoted up the disadvantages.     He either would have to find a hidingplace on the asteroid, and if the Steel-Blueswanted him bad enough they could tear thewhole place to pieces, or somehow getaboard the little life ship hidden in theservice station.     In that he would be just a sitting duck.     He shrugged off the slight temptation touse the pistol. He was still curious.     And he was interested in staying alive aslong as possible. There was a remote chancehe might warn the SP ship. Unconsciously,he glanced toward his belt to see the littlepower pack which, if under ideal conditions,could finger out fifty thousand miles intospace.     If he could somehow stay alive the 21days he might be able to warn the patrol.He couldn't do it by attempting to flee, forhis life would be snuffed out immediately.     The Steel-Blue said quietly:     It might be ironical to let you warnthat SP ship you keep thinking about. Butwe know your weapon now. Already ourship is equipped with a force field designedespecially to deflect your atomic guns.     Jon Karyl covered up his thoughtsquickly. They can delve deeper than thesurface of the mind. Or wasn't I keeping aleash on my thoughts?     The Steel-Blue chuckled. You get—absent-minded,is it?—every once in awhile.     Just then four other Steel-Blues appearedlugging great sheets of plastic and variousother equipment.     They dumped their loads and began unbundlingthem.     Working swiftly, they built a plasticigloo, smaller than the living room in thelarger service station igloo. They ranged instrumentsinside—one of them Jon Karylrecognized as an air pump from within thestation—and they laid out a pallet.     When they were done Jon saw a miniaturereproduction of the service station, lackingonly the cannon cap and fin, and with clearplastic walls instead of the opaqueness of theother.     His Steel-Blue said: We have reproducedthe atmosphere of your station so that yoube watched while you undergo the tortureunder the normal conditions of your life.     What is this torture? Jon Karyl asked.     The answer was almost caressing: It isa liquid we use to dissolve metals. It causesjoints to harden if even so much as a dropremains on it long. It eats away the metal,leaving a scaly residue which crumbleseventually into dust.     We will dilute it with a harmless liquidfor you since No. 1 does not wish you to dieinstantly.     Enter your—the Steel-Blue hesitated—mausoleum.You die in your own atmosphere.However, we took the liberty of purifyingit. There were dangerous elements init.     Jon walked into the little igloo. TheSteel-Blues sealed the lock, fingered dialsand switches on the outside. Jon's space suitdeflated. Pressure was building up in theigloo.     He took a sample of the air, found thatit was good, although quite rich in oxygencompared with what he'd been using in theservice station and in his suit.     With a sigh of relief he took off his helmetand gulped huge draughts of the air.     He sat down on the pallet and waitedfor the torture to begin.     The Steel Blues crowded about the igloo,staring at him through elliptical eyes.     Apparently, they too, were waiting for thetorture to begin.     Jon thought the excess of oxygen wasmaking him light-headed.     He stared at a cylinder which was beginningto sprout tentacles from the circle.He rubbed his eyes and looked again. Anopening, like the adjustable eye-piece of aspacescope, was appearing in the center ofthe cylinder.     A square, glass-like tumbler sat in theopening disclosed in the four-foot cylinderthat had sprouted tentacles. It contained ayellowish liquid.     One of the tentacles reached into theopening and clasped the glass. The openingclosed and the cylinder, propelled by locomotorappendages, moved toward Jon.     He didn't like the looks of the liquid inthe tumbler. It looked like an acid of somesort. He raised to his feet.     He unsheathed the stubray gun and preparedto blast the cylinder.   <doc-sep>Matheny puffed smoke and looked around. His feet ached from the weighton them. Where could a man sit down? It was hard to make out anyindividual sign through all that flimmering neon. His eye fell on onethat was distinguished by relative austerity.     THE CHURCH OF CHOICE       Enter, Play, Pray       That would do. He took an upward slideramp through several hundred feetof altitude, stepped past an aurora curtain, and found himself in amarble lobby next to an inspirational newsstand.     Ah, brother, welcome, said a red-haired usherette in demure blackleotards. The peace that passeth all understanding be with you. Therestaurant is right up those stairs.     I—I'm not hungry, stammered Matheny. I just wanted to sit in—     To your left, sir.     The Martian crossed the lobby. His pipe went out in the breeze from ananimated angel. Organ music sighed through an open doorway. The seriesof rooms beyond was dim, Gothic, interminable.     Get your chips right here, sir, said the girl in the booth.     Hm? said Matheny.     She explained. He bought a few hundred-dollar tokens, dropped afifty-buck coin down a slot marked CONTRIBUTIONS, and sipped themartini he got back while he strolled around studying the games.He stopped, frowned. Bingo? No, he didn't want to bother learningsomething new. He decided that the roulette wheels were either honestor too deep for him. He'd have to relax with a crap game instead.     He had been standing at the table for some time before the rest of thecongregation really noticed him. Then it was with awe. The first fewpasses he had made were unsuccessful. Earth gravity threw him off.But when he got the rhythm of it, he tossed a row of sevens. It was acustomary form of challenge on Mars. Here, though, they simply pushedchips toward him. He missed a throw, as anyone would at home: simplecourtesy. The next time around, he threw for a seven just to get thefeel. He got a seven. The dice had not been substituted on him.     I say! he exclaimed. He looked up into eyes and eyes, all around thegreen table. I'm sorry. I guess I don't know your rules.     You did all right, brother, said a middle-aged lady with an obviouslysurgical bodice.     But—I mean—when do we start actually      playing     ? What happened to thecocked dice?  <doc-sep>They had stopped their play and eating as Kaiser approached and nowmost of them swam in to shore and stood in the water, staring andpiping. They varied in size from small seal-pups to full-grown adults.Some chewed on bunches of water weed, which they manipulated with theirlips and drew into their mouths.     They had mammalian characteristics, Kaiser had noted before, so itwas not difficult to distinguish the females from the males. Theproportion was roughly fifty-fifty.     Several of the bolder males climbed up beside Kaiser and began pawinghis plastic clothing. Kaiser stood still and tried to keep hisbreathing shallow, for their odor was almost more than he could bear.One native smeared Kaiser's face with an exploring paw and Kaisergagged and pushed him roughly away. He was bound by regulations todisplay no hostility to newly discovered natives, but he couldn't takemuch more of this.     A young female splashed water on two young males who stood near andthey turned with shrill pipings and chased her into the water. Theentire group seemed to lose interest in Kaiser and joined in the chase,or went back to other diversions of their own. Kaiser's inspectorsfollowed.     They were a mindless lot, Kaiser observed. The river supplied them withan easy existence, with food and living space, and apparently they hadfew natural enemies.     Kaiser walked away, following the long slow bend of the river, andcame to a collection of perhaps two hundred dwellings built in threehaphazard rows along the river bank. He took time to study theirconstruction more closely this time.     They were all round domes, little more than the height of a man, builtof blocks that appeared to be mud, packed with river weed and sand. Howthey were able to dry these to give them the necessary solidity, Kaiserdid not know. He had found no signs that they knew how to use fire, andall apparent evidence was against their having it. They then had tohave sunlight. Maybe it rained less during certain seasons.     The domes' construction was based on a series of four arches built in acircle. When the base covering the periphery had been laid, four otherswere built on and between them, and continued in successive tiers untilthe top was reached. Each tier thus furnished support for the nextabove. No other framework was needed. The final tier formed the roof.They made sound shelters, but Kaiser had peered into several and foundthem dark and dank—and as smelly as the natives themselves.     The few loungers in the village paid little attention to Kaiser andhe wandered through the irregular streets until he became bored andreturned to the scout.     The      Soscites II     sent little that helped during the next twelve hoursand Kaiser occupied his time trying again to repair the damage to thescout.     The job appeared maddeningly simply. As the scout had glided in fora soft landing, its metal bottom had ridden a concealed rock and bentinward. The bent metal had carried up with it the tube supplying thefuel pump and flattened it against the motor casing.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What distinguishes a hoofer from a tumbler?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the backdrop of the story ""The Hoofer""? [SEP] <s>    A wayfarer's return from a far country to his wife and family may be ashining experience, a kind of second honeymoon. Or it may be so shadowedby Time's relentless tyranny that the changes which have occurred in hisabsence can lead only to tragedy and despair. This rarely discerning, warmlyhuman story by a brilliant newcomer to the science fantasy field is toldwith no pulling of punches, and its adroit unfolding will astound you.         the       hoofer         by ... Walter M. Miller, Jr.         A space rover has no business with a family. But what can a manin the full vigor of youth do—if his heart cries out for a home?    <doc-sep>  THE GIANTS RETURN     By ROBERT ABERNATHY     Earth set itself grimly to meet them with     corrosive fire, determined to blast them     back to the stars. But they erred in thinking     the Old Ones were too big to be clever.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      In the last hours the star ahead had grown brighter by many magnitudes,and had changed its color from a dazzling blue through white to thenormal yellow, of a GO sun. That was the Doppler effect as the star'sradial velocity changed relative to the      Quest III     , as for forty hoursthe ship had decelerated.     They had seen many such stars come near out of the galaxy's glitteringbackdrop, and had seen them dwindle, turn red and go out as the      QuestIII     drove on its way once more, lashed by despair toward the speed oflight, leaving behind the mockery of yet another solitary and lifelessluminary unaccompanied by worlds where men might dwell. They had grownsated with the sight of wonders—of multiple systems of giant stars, ofnebulae that sprawled in empty flame across light years.     But now unwonted excitement possessed the hundred-odd members of the      Quest III's     crew. It was a subdued excitement; men and women, theycame and stood quietly gazing into the big vision screens that showedthe oncoming star, and there were wide-eyed children who had been bornin the ship and had never seen a planet. The grownups talked in lowvoices, in tones of mingled eagerness and apprehension, of what mightlie at the long journey's end. For the      Quest III     was coming home; thesun ahead was      the     Sun, whose rays had warmed their lives' beginning.  <doc-sep>   The Sense of Wonder     By MILTON LESSER     Illustrated by HARRY ROSENBAUM     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      When nobody aboard ship remembers where it's     going, how can they tell when it has arrived?      Every day for a week now, Rikud had come to the viewport to watchthe great changeless sweep of space. He could not quite explain thefeelings within him; they were so alien, so unnatural. But ever sincethe engines somewhere in the rear of the world had changed their tone,from the steady whining Rikud had heard all twenty-five years of hislife, to the sullen roar that came to his ears now, the feelings hadgrown.     If anyone else had noticed the change, he failed to mention it. Thisdisturbed Rikud, although he could not tell why. And, because he hadrealized this odd difference in himself, he kept it locked up insidehim.     Today, space looked somehow different. The stars—it was a meaninglessconcept to Rikud, but that was what everyone called the brightpinpoints of light on the black backdrop in the viewport—were notapparent in the speckled profusion Rikud had always known. Instead,there was more of the blackness, and one very bright star set apartby itself in the middle of the viewport.     If he had understood the term, Rikud would have told himself this wasodd. His head ached with the half-born thought. It was—it was—whatwas it?     Someone was clomping up the companionway behind Rikud. He turned andgreeted gray-haired old Chuls.     In five more years, the older man chided, you'll be ready to sirechildren. And all you can do in the meantime is gaze out at the stars.     Rikud knew he should be exercising now, or bathing in the rays of thehealth-lamps. It had never occurred to him that he didn't feel like it;he just didn't, without comprehending.     Chuls' reminder fostered uneasiness. Often Rikud had dreamed of thetime he would be thirty and a father. Whom would the Calculator selectas his mate? The first time this idea had occurred to him, Rikudignored it. But it came again, and each time it left him with a feelinghe could not explain. Why should he think thoughts that no other manhad? Why should he think he was thinking such thoughts, when it alwaysembroiled him in a hopeless, infinite confusion that left him with aheadache?     Chuls said, It is time for my bath in the health-rays. I saw you hereand knew it was your time, too....     His voice trailed off. Rikud knew that something which he could notexplain had entered the elder man's head for a moment, but it haddeparted almost before Chuls knew of its existence.     I'll go with you, Rikud told him.  <doc-sep>In the evening a girl brought Maitland his meal. As the door slidaside, he automatically stood up, and they stared at each other forseveral seconds.     She had the high cheekbones and almond eyes of an Oriental, skin thatglowed like gold in the evening light, yet thick coiled braids ofblonde hair that glittered like polished brass. Shorts and a sleevelessblouse of some thick, reddish, metallic-looking fabric clung to herbody, and over that she was wearing a light, ankle-length cloak of whatseemed to be white wool.     She was looking at him with palpable curiosity and something likeexpectancy. Maitland sighed and said, Hello, then glanced downself-consciously at his wrinkled green pajamas.       She smiled, put the tray of food on the table, and swept out, her cloakbillowing behind her. Maitland remained standing, staring at the closeddoor for a minute after she was gone.     Later, when he had finished the steak and corn on the cob and shreddedcarrots, and a feeling of warm well-being was diffusing from hisstomach to his extremities, he sat down on the bed to watch the sunsetand to think.     There were three questions for which he required answers before hecould formulate any plan or policy.     Where was he?     Who was Swarts?     What was the purpose of the tests he was being given?     It was possible, of course, that this was all an elaborate schemefor getting military secrets, despite Swarts' protestations to thecontrary. Maitland frowned. This place certainly didn't have theappearance of a military establishment, and so far there had beennothing to suggest the kind of interrogation to be expected fromforeign intelligence officers.     It might be better to tackle the first question first. He looked atthe Sun, a red spheroid already half below the horizon, and tried tothink of a region that had this kind of terrain. That prairie out therewas unique. Almost anywhere in the world, land like that would becultivated, not allowed to go to grass.     This might be somewhere in Africa....     He shook his head, puzzled. The Sun disappeared and its blood-huedglow began to fade from the sky. Maitland sat there, trying to gethold of the problem from an angle where it wouldn't just slip away.After a while the western sky became a screen of clear luminous blue,a backdrop for a pure white brilliant star. As always at that sight,Maitland felt his worry drain away, leaving an almost mystical sense ofpeace and an undefinable longing.     Venus, the most beautiful of the planets.     Maitland kept track of them all in their majestic paths through theconstellations, but Venus was his favorite. Time and time again hehad watched its steady climb higher and higher in the western sky,its transient rule there as evening star, its progression toward thehorizon, and loved it equally in its      alter ego     of morning star. Venuswas an old friend. An old friend....     Something icy settled on the back of his neck, ran down his spine, anddiffused into his body. He stared at the planet unbelievingly, fistsclenched, forgetting to breathe.     Last night Venus hadn't been there.     Venus was a morning star just now....       Just now!       He realized the truth in that moment.  <doc-sep>  They all  knew he was a spacerbecause of the white goggle markson his sun-scorched face, and sothey tolerated him and helped him.They even made allowances for himwhen he staggered and fell in theaisle of the bus while pursuing theharassed little housewife from seatto seat and cajoling her to sit andtalk with him.     Having fallen, he decided tosleep in the aisle. Two men helpedhim to the back of the bus, dumpedhim on the rear seat, and tucked hisgin bottle safely out of sight. Afterall, he had not seen Earth for ninemonths, and judging by the crustedmatter about his eyelids, he couldn'thave seen it too well now, even ifhe had been sober. Glare-blindness,gravity-legs, and agoraphobia wereexcuses for a lot of things, when aman was just back from Big Bottomless.And who could blame aman for acting strangely?     Minutes later, he was back up theaisle and swaying giddily over thelittle housewife. How! he said.Me Chief Broken Wing. Youwanta Indian wrestle?     The girl, who sat nervously staringat him, smiled wanly, andshook her head.     Quiet li'l pigeon, aren'tcha? heburbled affectionately, crashing intothe seat beside her.     The two men slid out of theirseats, and a hand clamped his shoulder.Come on, Broken Wing, let'sgo back to bed.     My name's Hogey, he said.Big Hogey Parker. I was just kiddingabout being a Indian.     Yeah. Come on, let's go have adrink. They got him on his feet,and led him stumbling back downthe aisle.     My ma was half Cherokee, see?That's how come I said it. Youwanta hear a war whoop? Realstuff.     Never mind.     He cupped his hands to hismouth and favored them with ablood-curdling proof of his ancestry,while the female passengersstirred restlessly and hunched intheir seats. The driver stopped thebus and went back to warn himagainst any further display. Thedriver flashed a deputy's badge andthreatened to turn him over to aconstable.     I gotta get home, Big Hogeytold him. I got me a son now,that's why. You know? A littlebaby pigeon of a son. Haven't seenhim yet.     Will you just sit still and bequiet then, eh?     Big Hogey nodded emphatically.Shorry, officer, I didn't mean tomake any trouble.     When the bus started again, hefell on his side and lay still. Hemade retching sounds for a time,then rested, snoring softly. The busdriver woke him again at Caine'sjunction, retrieved his gin bottlefrom behind the seat, and helpedhim down the aisle and out of thebus.     Big Hogey stumbled about for amoment, then sat down hard in thegravel at the shoulder of the road.The driver paused with one foot onthe step, looking around. There wasnot even a store at the road junction,but only a freight buildingnext to the railroad track, a coupleof farmhouses at the edge of a side-road,and, just across the way, a desertedfilling station with a saggingroof. The land was Great Plainscountry, treeless, barren, and rolling.     Big Hogey got up and staggeredaround in front of the bus, clutchingat it for support, losing hisduffle bag.     Hey, watch the traffic! Thedriver warned. With a surge of unwelcomecompassion he trottedaround after his troublesome passenger,taking his arm as he saggedagain. You crossing?     Yah, Hogey muttered. Lemmealone, I'm okay.     The driver started across thehighway with him. The traffic wassparse, but fast and dangerous inthe central ninety-mile lane.     I'm okay, Hogey kept protesting.I'm a tumbler, ya know?Gravity's got me. Damn gravity.I'm not used to gravity, ya know? Iused to be a tumbler—      huk!     —onlynow I gotta be a hoofer. 'Countof li'l Hogey. You know about li'lHogey?     Yeah. Your son. Come on.     Say, you gotta son? I bet yougotta son.     Two kids, said the driver,catching Hogey's bag as it slippedfrom his shoulder. Both girls.     Say, you oughta be home withthem kids. Man oughta stick withhis family. You oughta get anotherjob. Hogey eyed him owlishly,waggled a moralistic finger, skiddedon the gravel as they steppedonto the opposite shoulder, andsprawled again.     The driver blew a weary breath,looked down at him, and shook hishead. Maybe it'd be kinder to finda constable after all. This guy couldget himself killed, wanderingaround loose.     Somebody supposed to meetyou? he asked, squinting aroundat the dusty hills.           Huk!     —who, me? Hogey giggled,belched, and shook his head.Nope. Nobody knows I'm coming.S'prise. I'm supposed to be here aweek ago. He looked up at thedriver with a pained expression.Week late, ya know? Marie'sgonna be sore—woo-      hoo     !—is shegonna be sore! He waggled hishead severely at the ground.     Which way are you going? thedriver grunted impatiently.     Hogey pointed down the side-roadthat led back into the hills.Marie's pop's place. You knowwhere? 'Bout three miles fromhere. Gotta walk, I guess.     Don't, the driver warned.You sit there by the culvert tillyou get a ride. Okay?     Hogey nodded forlornly.     Now stay out of the road, thedriver warned, then hurried backacross the highway. Moments later,the atomic battery-driven motorsdroned mournfully, and the buspulled away.     Big Hogey blinked after it, rubbingthe back of his neck. Nicepeople, he said. Nice buncha people.All hoofers.     With a grunt and a lurch, he gotto his feet, but his legs wouldn'twork right. With his tumbler's reflexes,he fought to right himselfwith frantic arm motions, but gravityclaimed him, and he went stumblinginto the ditch.     Damn legs, damn crazy legs!he cried.     The bottom of the ditch was wet,and he crawled up the embankmentwith mud-soaked knees, and sat onthe shoulder again. The gin bottlewas still intact. He had himself along fiery drink, and it warmed himdeep down. He blinked around atthe gaunt and treeless land.     The sun was almost down, forge-redon a dusty horizon. The blood-streakedsky faded into sulphurousyellow toward the zenith, and thevery air that hung over the landseemed full of yellow smoke, theomnipresent dust of the plains.     A farm truck turned onto theside-road and moaned away, itsdriver hardly glancing at the darkyoung man who sat swaying on hisduffle bag near the culvert. Hogeyscarcely noticed the vehicle. He justkept staring at the crazy sun.     He shook his head. It wasn't reallythe sun. The sun, the real sun,was a hateful eye-sizzling horror inthe dead black pit. It painted everythingwith pure white pain, and yousaw things by the reflected pain-light.The fat red sun was strictly aphoney, and it didn't fool him any.He hated it for what he knew it wasbehind the gory mask, and for whatit had done to his eyes.      With a grunt, he got to his feet,managed to shoulder the duffle bag,and started off down the middle ofthe farm road, lurching from sideto side, and keeping his eyes on therolling distances. Another car turnedonto the side-road, honking angrily.     Hogey tried to turn around tolook at it, but he forgot to shift hisfooting. He staggered and wentdown on the pavement. The car'stires screeched on the hot asphalt.Hogey lay there for a moment,groaning. That one had hurt hiship. A car door slammed and a bigman with a florid face got out andstalked toward him, looking angry.     What the hell's the matter withyou, fella? he drawled. Yousoused? Man, you've really got aload.     Hogey got up doggedly, shakinghis head to clear it. Space legs, heprevaricated. Got space legs. Can'tstand the gravity.     The burly farmer retrieved hisgin bottle for him, still miraculouslyunbroken. Here's your gravity,he grunted. Listen, fella, you betterget home pronto.     Pronto? Hey, I'm no Mex. Honest,I'm just space burned. Youknow?     Yeah. Say, who are you, anyway?Do you live around here?     It was obvious that the big manhad taken him for a hobo or atramp. Hogey pulled himself together.Goin' to the Hauptman'splace. Marie. You know Marie?     The farmer's eyebrows went up.Marie Hauptman? Sure I knowher. Only she's Marie Parker now.Has been, nigh on six years. Say—He paused, then gaped. You ain'ther husband by any chance?     Hogey, that's me. Big HogeyParker.     Well, I'll be—! Get in the car.I'm going right past John Hauptman'splace. Boy, you're in noshape to walk it.     He grinned wryly, waggled hishead, and helped Hogey and hisbag into the back seat. A womanwith a sun-wrinkled neck sat rigidlybeside the farmer in the front,and she neither greeted the passengernor looked around.     They don't make cars like thisanymore, the farmer called overthe growl of the ancient gasolineengine and the grind of gears.You can have them new atomicswith their loads of hot isotopesunder the seat. Ain't safe, I say—eh,Martha?     The woman with the sun-bakedneck quivered her head slightly.A car like this was good enoughfor Pa, an' I reckon it's goodenough for us, she drawled mournfully.     Five minutes later the car drewin to the side of the road. Reckonyou can walk it from here, thefarmer said. That's Hauptman'sroad just up ahead.     He helped Hogey out of the carand drove away without lookingback to see if Hogey stayed on hisfeet. The woman with the sun-bakedneck was suddenly talkinggarrulously in his direction.     It was twilight. The sun had set,and the yellow sky was turninggray. Hogey was too tired to go on,and his legs would no longer holdhim. He blinked around at the land,got his eyes focused, and foundwhat looked like Hauptman's placeon a distant hillside. It was a bigframe house surrounded by a wheatfield,and a few scrawny trees. Havinglocated it, he stretched out inthe tall grass beyond the ditch totake a little rest.     Somewhere dogs were barking,and a cricket sang creaking monotonyin the grass. Once there was thedistant thunder of a rocket blastfrom the launching station six milesto the west, but it faded quickly. AnA-motored convertible whined paston the road, but Hogey went unseen.     When he awoke, it was night,and he was shivering. His stomachwas screeching, and his nerves dancingwith high voltages. He sat upand groped for his watch, then rememberedhe had pawned it afterthe poker game. Remembering thegame and the results of the gamemade him wince and bite his lipand grope for the bottle again.     He sat breathing heavily for amoment after the stiff drink. Equatingtime to position had becomesecond nature with him, but he hadto think for a moment because hisdefective vision prevented him fromseeing the Earth-crescent.     Vega was almost straight abovehim in the late August sky, so heknew it wasn't much after sundown—probablyabout eight o'clock. Hebraced himself with another swallowof gin, picked himself up andgot back to the road, feeling a littlesobered after the nap.     He limped on up the pavementand turned left at the narrow drivethat led between barbed-wire fencestoward the Hauptman farmhouse,five hundred yards or so from thefarm road. The fields on his leftbelonged to Marie's father, heknew. He was getting close—closeto home and woman and child.     He dropped the bag suddenlyand leaned against a fence post,rolling his head on his forearmsand choking in spasms of air. Hewas shaking all over, and his bellywrithed. He wanted to turn andrun. He wanted to crawl out in thegrass and hide.     What were they going to say?And Marie, Marie most of all.How was he going to tell her aboutthe money?     Six hitches in space, and everytime the promise had been thesame:      One more tour, baby, andwe'll have enough dough, and thenI'll quit for good. One more time,and we'll have our stake—enoughto open a little business, or buy ahouse with a mortgage and get ajob.       And she had waited, but themoney had never been quite enoughuntil this time. This time the tourhad lasted nine months, and he hadsigned on for every run from stationto moon-base to pick up thebonuses. And this time he'd madeit. Two weeks ago, there had beenforty-eight hundred in the bank.And now ...           Why?      he groaned, striking hisforehead against his forearms. Hisarm slipped, and his head hit thetop of the fencepost, and the painblinded him for a moment. He staggeredback into the road with alow roar, wiped blood from hisforehead, and savagely kicked hisbag.     It rolled a couple of yards up theroad. He leaped after it and kickedit again. When he had finishedwith it, he stood panting and angry,but feeling better. He shoulderedthe bag and hiked on toward thefarmhouse.     They're hoofers, that's all—justan Earth-chained bunch of hoofers,even Marie. And I'm a tumbler. Aborn tumbler. Know what thatmeans? It means—God, what doesit mean? It means out in Big Bottomless,where Earth's like a fatmoon with fuzzy mold growing onit. Mold, that's all you are, justmold.     A dog barked, and he wonderedif he had been muttering aloud. Hecame to a fence-gap and paused inthe darkness. The road woundaround and came up the hill infront of the house. Maybe they weresitting on the porch. Maybe they'dalready heard him coming. Maybe ...     He was trembling again. Hefished the fifth of gin out of hiscoat pocket and sloshed it. Still overhalf a pint. He decided to kill it. Itwouldn't do to go home with abottle sticking out of his pocket.He stood there in the night wind,sipping at it, and watching the reddishmoon come up in the east. Themoon looked as phoney as thesetting sun.     He straightened in sudden determination.It had to be sometime.Get it over with, get it over withnow. He opened the fence-gap, slippedthrough, and closed it firmlybehind him. He retrieved his bag,and waded quietly through the tallgrass until he reached the hedgewhich divided an area of sicklypeach trees from the field. He gotover the hedge somehow, and startedthrough the trees toward thehouse. He stumbled over some oldboards, and they clattered.           Shhh!      he hissed, and movedon.     The dogs were barking angrily,and he heard a screen door slam.He stopped.     Ho there! a male voice calledexperimentally from the house.     One of Marie's brothers. Hogeystood frozen in the shadow of apeach tree, waiting.     Anybody out there? the mancalled again.     Hogey waited, then heard theman muttering, Sic 'im, boy, sic'im.     The hound's bark became eager.The animal came chasing down theslope, and stopped ten feet away tocrouch and bark frantically at theshadow in the gloom. He knew thedog.     Hooky! he whispered. Hookyboy—here!     The dog stopped barking, sniffed,trotted closer, and went      Rrrooff!      Then he started sniffingsuspiciously again.     Easy, Hooky, here boy! hewhispered.     The dog came forward silently,sniffed his hand, and whined inrecognition. Then he trotted aroundHogey, panting doggy affection anddancing an invitation to romp. Theman whistled from the porch. Thedog froze, then trotted quickly backup the slope.     Nothing, eh, Hooky? theman on the porch said. Chasin'armadillos again, eh?     The screen door slammed again,and the porch light went out.Hogey stood there staring, unableto think. Somewhere beyond thewindow lights were—his woman,his son.     What the hell was a tumbler doingwith a woman and a son?     After perhaps a minute, he steppedforward again. He tripped overa shovel, and his foot plunged intosomething that went      squelch     andswallowed the foot past the ankle.He fell forward into a heap ofsand, and his foot went deeper intothe sloppy wetness.     He lay there with his stingingforehead on his arms, cursing softlyand crying. Finally he rolledover, pulled his foot out of themess, and took off his shoes. Theywere full of mud—sticky sandymud.     The dark world was reelingabout him, and the wind was draggingat his breath. He fell backagainst the sand pile and let hisfeet sink in the mud hole and wriggledhis toes. He was laughingsoundlessly, and his face was wetin the wind. He couldn't think. Hecouldn't remember where he wasand why, and he stopped caring,and after a while he felt better.     The stars were swimming overhim, dancing crazily, and the mudcooled his feet, and the sand wassoft behind him. He saw a rocketgo up on a tail of flame from thestation, and waited for the sound ofits blast, but he was already asleepwhen it came.     It was far past midnight when hebecame conscious of the dog lickingwetly at his ear and cheek. Hepushed the animal away with a lowcurse and mopped at the side of hisface. He stirred, and groaned. Hisfeet were burning up! He tried topull them toward him, but theywouldn't budge. There was somethingwrong with his legs.     For an instant he stared wildlyaround in the night. Then he rememberedwhere he was, closed hiseyes and shuddered. When heopened them again, the moon hademerged from behind a cloud, andhe could see clearly the cruel trapinto which he had accidentallystumbled. A pile of old boards, acareful stack of new lumber, apick and shovel, a sand-pile, heapsof fresh-turned earth, and a concretemixer—well, it added up.     He gripped his ankles and pulled,but his feet wouldn't budge. Insudden terror, he tried to stand up,but his ankles were clutched by theconcrete too, and he fell back inthe sand with a low moan. He laystill for several minutes, consideringcarefully.     He pulled at his left foot. It waslocked in a vise. He tugged evenmore desperately at his right foot.It was equally immovable.     He sat up with a whimper andclawed at the rough concrete untilhis nails tore and his fingertipsbled. The surface still felt damp,but it had hardened while he slept.     He sat there stunned until Hookybegan licking at his scuffed fingers.He shouldered the dog away, anddug his hands into the sand-pile tostop the bleeding. Hooky licked athis face, panting love.     Get away! he croaked savagely.     The dog whined softly, trotteda short distance away, circled, andcame back to crouch down in thesand directly before Hogey, inchingforward experimentally.     Hogey gripped fistfuls of the drysand and cursed between his teeth,while his eyes wandered over thesky. They came to rest on the sliverof light—the space station—risingin the west, floating out in Big Bottomlesswhere the gang was—Nicholsand Guerrera and Lavrentiand Fats. And he wasn't forgettingKeesey, the rookie who'd replacedhim.     Keesey would have a rough timefor a while—rough as a cob. The pitwas no playground. The first timeyou went out of the station in asuit, the pit got you. Everythingwas falling, and you fell, with it.Everything. The skeletons of steel,the tire-shaped station, the spheresand docks and nightmare shapes—alltied together by umbilical cablesand flexible tubes. Like some crazysea-thing they seemed, floating in ablack ocean with its tentacles boundtogether by drifting strands in thedark tide that bore it.      Everything was pain-bright ordead black, and it wheeled aroundyou, and you went nuts trying tofigure which way was down. In fact,it took you months to teach yourbody that      all     ways were down andthat the pit was bottomless.     He became conscious of a plaintivesound in the wind, and froze tolisten.     It was a baby crying.     It was nearly a minute before hegot the significance of it. It hit himwhere he lived, and he began jerkingfrantically at his encased feetand sobbing low in his throat.They'd hear him if he kept that up.He stopped and covered his ears toclose out the cry of his firstborn. Alight went on in the house, andwhen it went off again, the infant'scry had ceased.     Another rocket went up from thestation, and he cursed it. Space wasa disease, and he had it.     Help! he cried out suddenly.I'm stuck! Help me, help me!     He knew he was yelling hystericallyat the sky and fighting the relentlessconcrete that clutched hisfeet, and after a moment he stopped.     The light was on in the houseagain, and he heard faint sounds.The stirring-about woke the babyagain, and once more the infant'swail came on the breeze.       Make the kid shut up, make thekid shut up ...       But that was no good. It wasn'tthe kid's fault. It wasn't Marie'sfault. No fathers allowed in space,they said, but it wasn't their faulteither. They were right, and he hadonly himself to blame. The kid wasan accident, but that didn't changeanything. Not a thing in the world.It remained a tragedy.     A tumbler had no business with afamily, but what was a man goingto do? Take a skinning knife, boy,and make yourself a eunuch. Butthat was no good either. They neededbulls out there in the pit, notsteers. And when a man came downfrom a year's hitch, what was hegoing to do? Live in a lonely shackand read books for kicks? Becauseyou were a man, you sought out awoman. And because she was awoman, she got a kid, and that wasthe end of it. It was nobody's fault,nobody's at all.     He stared at the red eye of Marslow in the southwest. They wererunning out there now, and nextyear he would have been on thelong long run ...     But there was no use thinkingabout it. Next year and the yearsafter belonged to      little     Hogey.     He sat there with his feet lockedin the solid concrete of the footing,staring out into Big Bottomlesswhile his son's cry came from thehouse and the Hauptman menfolkcame wading through the tall grassin search of someone who had criedout. His feet were stuck tight, andhe wouldn't ever get them out. Hewas sobbing softly when they foundhim.     Transcriber's Note:   This etext was produced from    Fantastic Universe   September 1955.Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling andtypographical errors have been corrected without note.<doc-sep>Bob Parker came to, the emptiness of remote starlight in his face. Heopened his eyes. He was slowly revolving on an axis. Sometimes the Sunswept across his line of vision. A cold hammering began at the base ofhis skull, a sensation similar to that of being buried alive. There wasno asteroid, no girl, no Queazy. He was alone in the vastness of space.Alone in a space-suit.     Queazy! he whispered. Queazy! I'm running out of air!     There was no answer from Queazy. With sick eyes, Bob studied theoxygen indicator. There was only five pounds pressure. Five pounds!That meant he had been floating around out here—how long? Days atleast—maybe weeks! It was evident that somebody had given him a doseof spastic rays, enough to screw up every muscle in his body to thesnapping point, putting him in such a condition of suspended animationthat his oxygen needs were small. He closed his eyes, trying to fightagainst panic. He was glad he couldn't see any part of his body. He wasprobably scrawny. And he was hungry!     I'll starve, he thought. Or suffocate to death first!     He couldn't keep himself from taking in great gulps of air. Minutes,then hours passed. He was breathing abnormally, and there wasn't enoughair in the first place. He pleaded continually for Queazy, hopingthat somehow Queazy could help, when probably Queazy was in the samecondition. He ripped out wild curses directed at the Saylor brothers.Murderers, both of them! Up until this time, he had merely thought ofthem as business rivals. If he ever got out of this—     He groaned. He never would get out of it! After another hour, he wasgasping weakly, and yellow spots danced in his eyes. He called Queazy'sname once more, knowing that was the last time he would have strengthto call it.     And this time the headset spoke back!     Bob Parker made a gurgling sound. A voice came again, washed withstatic, far away, burbling, but excited. Bob made a rattling sound inhis throat. Then his eyes started to close, but he imagined that he sawa ship, shiny and small, driving toward him, growing in size againstthe backdrop of the Milky Way. He relapsed, a terrific buzzing in hisears.     He did not lose consciousness. He heard voices, Queazy's and thegirl's, whoever she was. Somebody grabbed hold of his foot. Hisaquarium was unbuckled and good air washed over his streaming face.The sudden rush of oxygen to his brain dizzied him. Then he was lyingon a bunk, and gradually the world beyond his sick body focussed in hisclearing eyes and he knew he was alive—and going to stay that way, forawhile anyway.     Thanks, Queazy, he said huskily.     Queazy was bending over him, his anxiety clearing away from hissuddenly brightening face.     Don't thank me, he whispered. We'd have both been goners if ithadn't been for her. The Saylor brothers left her paralyzed likeus, and when she woke up she was on a slow orbit around her ship.She unstrapped her holster and threw it away from her and it gaveher enough reaction to reach the ship. She got inside and used thedirection-finder on the telaudio and located me first. The Saylorsscattered us far and wide. Queazy's broad, normally good-humored facetwisted blackly. The so and so's didn't care if we lived or died.     Bob saw the girl now, standing a little behind Queazy, looking down athim curiously, but unhappily. Her space-suit was off. She was wearinglightly striped blue slacks and blue silk blouse and she had a paperflower in her hair. Something in Bob's stomach caved in as his eyeswidened on her.     The girl said glumly, I guess you men won't much care for me when youfind out who I am and what I've done. I'm Starre Lowenthal—Andrew S.Burnside's granddaughter!  <doc-sep>After a time he said, Rodney, Wass, it's dust, down there. Rememberthe wind? Air currents are moving it.     Rodney sat down on the metal flooring. For a long time he said nothing.Then—It wasn't.... Why did you close the hatch then?     Martin did not say he thought the other two would have shot him,otherwise. He said merely, At first I wasn't sure myself.     Rodney stood up, backing away from the closed hatch. He held his gunloosely, and his hand shook. Then prove it. Open it again.     Martin went to the wheel. He noticed Wass was standing behind Rodneyand he, too, had drawn his gun.     The hatch rose again at Martin's direction. He stood beside it,outlined in the light of two torches.     For a little while he was alone.     Then—causing a gasp from Wass, a harsh expletive from Rodney—atenuous, questing alien limb edged through the hatch, curling aboutMartin, sparkling in ten thousand separate particles in the torchlight,obscuring the dimly seen backdrop of geometrical processions of strangeobjects.       Martin raised an arm, and the particles swirled in stately, shimmeringspirals.     Rodney leaned forward and looked over the edge of the hatch. He saidnothing. He eyed the sparkling particles swirling about Martin, andnow, himself.     How deep, Wass said, from his safe distance.     We'll have to lower a flashlight, Martin answered.     Rodney, all eagerness to be of assistance now, lowered a rope with atorch swinging wildly on the end of it.     The torch came to rest about thirty feet down. It shone on gentlyrolling mounds of fine, white stuff.     Martin anchored the rope soundly, and paused, half across the lipof the hatch to stare coldly at Wass. You'd rather monkey with theswitches and blow yourself to smithereens?     Wass sighed and refused to meet Martin's gaze. Martin looked at himdisgustedly, and then began to descend the rope, slowly, peering intothe infinite, sparkling darkness pressing around him. At the bottomof the rope he sank to his knees in dust, and then was held even. Hestamped his feet, and then, as well as he was able, did a standingjump. He sank no farther than his knees.     He sighted a path parallel with the avenue above, toward the nearestedge of the city. I think we'll be all right, he called out, as longas we avoid the drifts.     Rodney began the descent. Looking up, Martin saw Wass above Rodney.     All right, Wass, Martin said quietly, as Rodney released the rope andsank into the dust.     Not me, the answer came back quickly. You two fools go your way,I'll go mine.     Wass!     There was no answer. The light faded swiftly away from the opening.     The going was hard. The dust clung like honey to their feet, and eddiedand swirled about them until the purifying systems in their suits werehard-pressed to remove the fine stuff working in at joints and valves.     Are we going straight? Rodney asked.     Of course, Martin growled.     There was silence again, the silence of almost-exhausted determination.The two men lifted their feet out of the dust, and then laboriouslyplunged forward, to sink again to the knees, repeated the act, timeswithout number.     Then Wass broke his silence, taunting. The ship leaves in two hours,Martin. Two hours. Hear me, Rodney?     Martin pulled his left foot from the sand and growled deep in histhroat. Ahead, through the confusing patterns of the sparkling dust,his flashlight gleamed against metal. He grabbed Rodney's arm, pointed.     A grate.     Rodney stared. Wass! he shouted. We've found a way out!     Their radios recorded Wass' laughter. I'm at the switchboard now,Martin. I—     There was a tinkle of breaking glass, breaking faceplate.     The grate groaned upward and stopped.     Wass babbled incoherently into the radio for a moment, and then hebegan to scream.     Martin switched off his radio, sick.     He turned it on again when they reached the opening in the metal wall.Well?     I've been trying to get you, Rodney said, frantically. Why didn'tyou answer?     We couldn't do anything for him.     Rodney's face was white and drawn. But he did this for us.     So he did, Martin said, very quietly.     Rodney said nothing.     Then Martin said, Did you listen until the end?     Rodney nodded, jerkily. He pulled three more switches. I couldn'tunderstand it all. But—Martin, dying alone like that in a place likethis—!     Martin crawled into the circular pipe behind the grate. It tilted uptoward the surface. Come on, Rodney. Last lap.     An hour later they surfaced about two hundred yards away from theedge of the city. Behind them the black pile rose, the dome of forceshimmering, almost invisible, about it.     Ahead of them were the other two scoutships from the mother ship.Martin called out faintly, pulling Rodney out of the pipe. Crew membersstanding by the scoutships, and at the edge of the city, began to runtoward them.     Radio picked you up as soon as you entered the pipe, someone said. Itwas the last thing Martin heard before he collapsed.   <doc-sep>The first thing about the derelict that struck us as we drew near washer size. No ship ever built in the Foundation Yards had ever attainedsuch gargantuan proportions. She must have stretched a full thousandfeet from bow to stern, a sleek torpedo shape of somehow unspeakablealienness. Against the backdrop of the Milky Way, she gleamed fitfullyin the light of the faraway sun, the metal of her flanks grained withsomething like tiny, glittering whorls. It was as though the stuffwere somehow unstable ... seeking balance ... maybe even alive in somestrange and alien way.     It was readily apparent to all of us that she had never been built forinter-planetary flight. She was a starship. Origin unknown. An aura ofmystery surrounded her like a shroud, protecting the world that gaveher birth mutely but effectively. The distance she must have come wasunthinkable. And the time it had taken...? Aeons. Millennia. For shewas drifting, dead in space, slowly spinning end over end as she swungabout Sol in a hyperbolic orbit that would soon take her out and awayagain into the inter-stellar deeps.     Something had wounded her ... perhaps ten million years ago ... perhapsyesterday. She was gashed deeply from stem to stern with a jagged ripthat bared her mangled innards. A wandering asteroid? A meteor? Wewould never know. It gave me an uncomfortable feeling of things beyondthe ken of men as I looked at her through the port. I would never knowwhat killed her, or where she was going, or whence she came. Yet shewas mine. It made me feel like an upstart. And it made me afraid ...but of what?     We should have reported her to the nearest EMV base, but that wouldhave meant that we'd lose her. Scientists would be sent out. Men betterequipped than we to investigate the first extrasolar artifact found bymen. But I didn't report her. She was ours. She was money in the bank.Let the scientists take over after we'd put a prize crew aboard andbrought her into Callisto for salvage.... That's the way I had thingsfigured.     The Maid hove to about a hundred yards from her and hung there, dwarfedby the mighty glistening ship. I called for volunteers and we prepareda boarding party. I was thinking that her drives alone would be worthmillions. Cohn took charge and he and three of the men suited up andcrossed to her.     In an hour they were back, disappointment largely written on theirfaces.     There's nothing left of her, Captain, Cohn reported, Whatever hither tore up the innards so badly we couldn't even find the drives.She's a mess inside. Nothing left but the hull and a few storagecompartments that are still unbroken.     She was never built to carry humanoids he told us, and there wasnothing that could give us a hint of where she had come from. The hullalone was left.     He dropped two chunks of metal on my desk. I brought back some samplesof her pressure hull, he said, The whole thing is made of thisstuff....     We'll still take her in, I said, hiding my disappointment. Thecarcass will be worth money in Callisto. Have Mister Marvin andZaleski assemble a spare pulse-jet. We'll jury-rig her and bring herdown under her own power. You take charge of provisioning her. Checkthose compartments you found and install oxy-generators aboard. Whenit's done report to me in my quarters.     I picked up the two samples of gleaming metal and called for ametallurgical testing kit. I'm going to try and find out if this stuffis worth anything....     The metal was heavy—too heavy, it seemed to me, for spaceshipconstruction. But then, who was to say what conditions existed on thatdistant world where this metal was made?     Under the bright fluorescent over my work-table, the chunks of metaltorn from a random bulkhead of the starship gleamed like pale silver;those strange little whorls that I had noticed on the outer hull werethere too, like tiny magnetic lines of force, making the surface ofthe metal seem to dance. I held the stuff in my bare hand.      It had ayellowish tinge, and it was heavier     ....     Even as I watched, the metal grew yellower, and the hand that heldit grew bone weary, little tongues of fatigue licking up my forearm.Suddenly terrified, I dropped the chunk as though it were white hot. Itstruck the table with a dull thud and lay there, a rich yellow lump ofmetallic lustre.     For a long while I just sat and stared. Then I began testing, tryingall the while to quiet the trembling of my hands. I weighed it on abalance. I tested it with acids. It had changed unquestionably. Itwas no longer the same as when I had carried it into my quarters. Thewhorls of force were gone. It was no longer alive with a questingvibrancy ... it was inert, stable. From somewhere, somehow, it haddrawn the energy necessary for transmutation. The unknown metal—thestuff of which that whole mammoth spaceship from the stars wasbuilt—was now....       Gold!       I scarcely dared believe it, but there it was staring at me from mytable-top.      Gold!       I searched my mind for an explanation. Contra-terrene matter, perhaps,from some distant island universe where matter reacted differently ...drawing energy from somewhere, the energy it needed to find stabilityin its new environment. Stability as a terrene element—wonderfully,miraculously gold!     And outside, in the void beyond the Maid's ports there were tons ofthis metal that could be turned into treasure. My laughter must havebeen a wild sound in those moments of discovery....  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the backdrop of the story ""The Hoofer""?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in THE HANGING STRANGER? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>  He  took a walk.     The town was just comingto life. People were strollingout of their houses, commentingon the weather, chucklingamiably about local affairs.Kids on bicycles were beginningto appear, jangling thelittle bells and hooting toeach other. A woman, hangingwash in the back yard,called out to him, thinkinghe was somebody else.     He found a little park, nomore than twenty yards incircumference, centeredaround a weatherbeaten monumentof some unrecognizablemilitary figure. Threeold men took their places onthe bench that circled theGeneral, and leaned on theircanes.     Sol was a civil engineer.But he made like a reporter.     Pardon me, sir. The oldman, leathery-faced, with afine yellow moustache, lookedat him dumbly. Have youever heard of Armagon?     You a stranger?     Yes.     Thought so.     Sol repeated the question.     Course I did. Been goin'there ever since I was a kid.Night-times, that is.     How—I mean, what kindof place is it?     Said you're a stranger?     Yes.     Then 'tain't your business.     That was that.     He left the park, and wanderedinto a thriving luncheonette.He tried questioningthe man behind the counter,who merely snickered andsaid: You stayin' with theDawes, ain't you? Better askWillie, then. He knows theplace better than anybody.     He asked about the execution,and the man stiffened.     Don't think I can talkabout that. Fella broke one ofthe Laws; that's about it.Don't see where you comeinto it.     At eleven o'clock, he returnedto the Dawes residence,and found Mom in thekitchen, surrounded by thewarm nostalgic odor of home-bakedbread. She told himthat her husband had left amessage for the stranger, informinghim that the StatePolice would be around to gethis story.     He waited in the house,gloomily turning the pages ofthe local newspaper, searchingfor references to Armagon.He found nothing.     At eleven-thirty, a brown-facedState Trooper came tocall, and Sol told his story.He was promised nothing,and told to stay in town untilhe was contacted again bythe authorities.     Mom fixed him a lightlunch, the greatest feature ofwhich was some hot biscuitsshe plucked out of the oven.It made him feel almost normal.     He wandered around thetown some more after lunch,trying to spark conversationwith the residents.     He learned little. <doc-sep>   THE HANGING STRANGER     BY PHILIP K. DICK     ILLUSTRATED BY SMITH     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Science FictionAdventures Magazine December 1953. Extensive research did not uncoverany evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]     Ed had always been a practical man, when he saw something waswrong he tried to correct it. Then one day he saw    it   hanging in thetown square.    Five o'clock Ed Loyce washed up, tossed on his hat and coat, got his carout and headed across town toward his TV sales store. He was tired. Hisback and shoulders ached from digging dirt out of the basement andwheeling it into the back yard. But for a forty-year-old man he had doneokay. Janet could get a new vase with the money he had saved; and heliked the idea of repairing the foundations himself!     It was getting dark. The setting sun cast long rays over the scurryingcommuters, tired and grim-faced, women loaded down with bundles andpackages, students swarming home from the university, mixing with clerksand businessmen and drab secretaries. He stopped his Packard for a redlight and then started it up again. The store had been open without him;he'd arrive just in time to spell the help for dinner, go over therecords of the day, maybe even close a couple of sales himself. He droveslowly past the small square of green in the center of the street, thetown park. There were no parking places in front of LOYCE TV SALES ANDSERVICE. He cursed under his breath and swung the car in a U-turn. Againhe passed the little square of green with its lonely drinking fountainand bench and single lamppost.     From the lamppost something was hanging. A shapeless dark bundle,swinging a little with the wind. Like a dummy of some sort. Loyce rolleddown his window and peered out. What the hell was it? A display ofsome kind? Sometimes the Chamber of Commerce put up displays in thesquare.     Again he made a U-turn and brought his car around. He passed the parkand concentrated on the dark bundle. It wasn't a dummy. And if it was adisplay it was a strange kind. The hackles on his neck rose and heswallowed uneasily. Sweat slid out on his face and hands.     It was a body. A human body.  <doc-sep>Being a beggar, Skkiru discovered, did give him certain small,momentary advantages over those who had been alloted higher ranks.For one thing, it was quite in character for him to tread curiouslyupon the strangers' heels all the way to the temple—a ramshackleaffair, but then it had been run up in only three days—where theofficial reception was to be held. The principal difficulty was that,because of his equipment, he had a little trouble keeping himself fromovershooting the strangers. And though Bbulas might frown menacingly athim—and not only for his forwardness—that was in character on bothsides, too.     Nonetheless, Skkiru could not reconcile himself to his beggarhood, nomatter how much he tried to comfort himself by thinking at least hewasn't a pariah like the unfortunate metal-workers who had to standsegregated from the rest by a chain of their own devising—a poeticthought, that was, but well in keeping with his beggarhood. Beggarswere often poets, he believed, and poets almost always beggars. Sincemetal-working was the chief industry of Snaddra, this had provided theplanet automatically with a large lowest caste. Bbulas had taken theeasy way out.     Skkiru swallowed the last of the chocolate and regarded the highpriest with a simple-minded mendicant's grin. However, there werevolcanic passions within him that surged up from his toes when, as thewind and rain whipped through his scanty coverings, he remembered thesnug underskirts Bbulas was wearing beneath his warm gown. They weremetal, but they were solid. All the garments visible or potentiallyvisible were of woven metal, because, although there was cloth on theplanet, it was not politic for the Earthmen to discover how heavily theSnaddrath depended upon imports.     As the Earthmen reached the temple, Larhgan now appeared to join Bbulasat the head of the long flight of stairs that led to it. AlthoughSkkiru had seen her in her priestly apparel before, it had not madethe emotional impression upon him then that it did now, when, standingthere, clad in beauty, dignity and warm clothes, she bade the newcomerswelcome in several thousand words not too well chosen for her byBbulas—who fancied himself a speech-writer as well as a speech-maker,for there was no end to the man's conceit.     The difference between her magnificent garments and his own miserablerags had their full impact upon Skkiru at this moment. He saw the gulfthat had been dug between them and, for the first time in his shortlife, he felt the tormenting pangs of caste distinction. She looked solovely and so remote.     ... and so you are most welcome to Snaddra, men of Earth, she wassaying in her melodious voice. Our resources may be small but ourhearts are large, and what little we have, we offer with humility andwith love. We hope that you will enjoy as long and as happy a stay hereas you did on Nemeth....     Cyril looked at Raoul, who, however, seemed too absorbed incontemplating Larhgan's apparently universal charms to pay muchattention to the expression on his companion's face.     ... and that you will carry our affection back to all the peoples ofthe Galaxy.  <doc-sep>They kept a tape recorder going all the time he talked. When he hadfinished the Commissioner snapped off the recorder and got to his feet.He stood for a moment, deep in thought. Finally he got out hiscigarettes and lit up slowly, a frown on his beefy face.     You don't believe me, Loyce said.     The Commissioner offered him a cigarette. Loyce pushed it impatientlyaway. Suit yourself. The Commissioner moved over to the window andstood for a time looking out at the town of Oak Grove. I believe you,he said abruptly.     Loyce sagged. Thank God.     So you got away. The Commissioner shook his head. You were down inyour cellar instead of at work. A freak chance. One in a million.     Loyce sipped some of the black coffee they had brought him. I have atheory, he murmured.     What is it?     About them. Who they are. They take over one area at a time. Startingat the top—the highest level of authority. Working down from there in awidening circle. When they're firmly in control they go on to the nexttown. They spread, slowly, very gradually. I think it's been going onfor a long time.     A long time?     Thousands of years. I don't think it's new.     Why do you say that?     When I was a kid.... A picture they showed us in Bible League. Areligious picture—an old print. The enemy gods, defeated by Jehovah.Moloch, Beelzebub, Moab, Baalin, Ashtaroth—     So?     They were all represented by figures. Loyce looked up at theCommissioner. Beelzebub was represented as—a giant fly.     The Commissioner grunted. An old struggle.     They've been defeated. The Bible is an account of their defeats. Theymake gains—but finally they're defeated.     Why defeated?     They can't get everyone. They didn't get me. And they never got theHebrews. The Hebrews carried the message to the whole world. Therealization of the danger. The two men on the bus. I think theyunderstood. Had escaped, like I did. He clenched his fists. I killedone of them. I made a mistake. I was afraid to take a chance.     The Commissioner nodded. Yes, they undoubtedly had escaped, as you did.Freak accidents. But the rest of the town was firmly in control. Heturned from the window. Well, Mr. Loyce. You seem to have figuredeverything out.     Not everything. The hanging man. The dead man hanging from thelamppost. I don't understand that.      Why?     Why did they deliberately hanghim there?     That would seem simple. The Commissioner smiled faintly.       Bait.          Loyce stiffened. His heart stopped beating. Bait? What do you mean?     To draw you out. Make you declare yourself. So they'd know who wasunder control—and who had escaped.     Loyce recoiled with horror. Then they      expected     failures! Theyanticipated— He broke off. They were ready with a trap.     And you showed yourself. You reacted. You made yourself known. TheCommissioner abruptly moved toward the door. Come along, Loyce. There'sa lot to do. We must get moving. There's no time to waste.     Loyce started slowly to his feet, numbed. And the man.      Who was theman?     I never saw him before. He wasn't a local man. He was a stranger.All muddy and dirty, his face cut, slashed—     There was a strange look on the Commissioner's face as he answered.Maybe, he said softly, you'll understand that, too. Come along withme, Mr. Loyce. He held the door open, his eyes gleaming. Loyce caught aglimpse of the street in front of the police station. Policemen, aplatform of some sort. A telephone pole—and a rope! Right this way,the Commissioner said, smiling coldly.  <doc-sep>Look at it! Loyce snapped. Come on out here!     Don Fergusson came slowly out of the store, buttoning his pin-stripecoat with dignity. This is a big deal, Ed. I can't just leave the guystanding there.     See it? Ed pointed into the gathering gloom. The lamppost jutted upagainst the sky—the post and the bundle swinging from it. There it is.How the hell long has it been there? His voice rose excitedly. What'swrong with everybody? They just walk on past!     Don Fergusson lit a cigarette slowly. Take it easy, old man. There mustbe a good reason, or it wouldn't be there.     A reason! What kind of a reason?     Fergusson shrugged. Like the time the Traffic Safety Council put thatwrecked Buick there. Some sort of civic thing. How would I know?     Jack Potter from the shoe shop joined them. What's up, boys?     There's a body hanging from the lamppost, Loyce said. I'm going tocall the cops.     They must know about it, Potter said. Or otherwise it wouldn't bethere.     I got to get back in. Fergusson headed back into the store. Businessbefore pleasure.     Loyce began to get hysterical. You see it? You see it hanging there? Aman's body! A dead man!     Sure, Ed. I saw it this afternoon when I went out for coffee.     You mean it's been there all afternoon?     Sure. What's the matter? Potter glanced at his watch. Have to run.See you later, Ed.     Potter hurried off, joining the flow of people moving along thesidewalk. Men and women, passing by the park. A few glanced up curiouslyat the dark bundle—and then went on. Nobody stopped. Nobody paid anyattention.     I'm going nuts, Loyce whispered. He made his way to the curb andcrossed out into traffic, among the cars. Horns honked angrily at him.He gained the curb and stepped up onto the little square of green.     The man had been middle-aged. His clothing was ripped and torn, a graysuit, splashed and caked with dried mud. A stranger. Loyce had neverseen him before. Not a local man. His face was partly turned, away, andin the evening wind he spun a little, turning gently, silently. His skinwas gouged and cut. Red gashes, deep scratches of congealed blood. Apair of steel-rimmed glasses hung from one ear, dangling foolishly. Hiseyes bulged. His mouth was open, tongue thick and ugly blue.     For Heaven's sake, Loyce muttered, sickened. He pushed down his nauseaand made his way back to the sidewalk. He was shaking all over, withrevulsion—and fear.       Why?     Who was the man? Why was he hanging there? What did it mean?     And—why didn't anybody notice?     He bumped into a small man hurrying along the sidewalk. Watch it! theman grated, Oh, it's you, Ed.     Ed nodded dazedly. Hello, Jenkins.     What's the matter? The stationery clerk caught Ed's arm. You looksick.     The body. There in the park.     Sure, Ed. Jenkins led him into the alcove of LOYCE TV SALES ANDSERVICE. Take it easy.     Margaret Henderson from the jewelry store joined them. Somethingwrong?     Ed's not feeling well.     Loyce yanked himself free. How can you stand here? Don't you see it?For God's sake—     What's he talking about? Margaret asked nervously.     The body! Ed shouted. The body hanging there!     More people collected. Is he sick? It's Ed Loyce. You okay, Ed?     The body! Loyce screamed, struggling to get past them. Hands caught athim. He tore loose. Let me go! The police! Get the police!     Ed—     Better get a doctor!     He must be sick.     Or drunk.     Loyce fought his way through the people. He stumbled and half fell.Through a blur he saw rows of faces, curious, concerned, anxious. Menand women halting to see what the disturbance was. He fought past themtoward his store. He could see Fergusson inside talking to a man,showing him an Emerson TV set. Pete Foley in the back at the servicecounter, setting up a new Philco. Loyce shouted at them frantically.His voice was lost in the roar of traffic and the murmur around him.     Do something! he screamed. Don't stand there! Do something!Something's wrong! Something's happened! Things are going on!     The crowd melted respectfully for the two heavy-set cops movingefficiently toward Loyce.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>   HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS     By JIM HARMON     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Every lonely man tries to make friends.     Manet just didn't know when to stop!      William Manet was alone.     In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It wouldgive him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlateloneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take himto start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to beginteaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminablelectures to a bored and captive audience of one.     He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whetherit was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and asdirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal andthink more like a god than any man for generations.     But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearingbore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.     Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was alreadytalking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he hadcut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up andwinked at it whenever he passed that way.     Lately she was winking back at him.     Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh fromhis arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.     No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manetcould only be this lonely on Mars.     Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.     All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middleof the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat,flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in theblack sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moonsand one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The wholegimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one wasneeded here—no human being, at least.     The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn'ttake much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefullyspecified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycombMars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.     They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated peoplefor the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going toisolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manetand his fellows.     The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fareto Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuterservice for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodationsfor couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren'tproviding fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits betweenthe various Overseers. They weren't very providential.     But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offeredwonderful opportunities.     It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship makinga tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning asbright as envy.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in THE HANGING STRANGER?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What are the defining traits of Edward C. Loyce, the character in THE HANGING STRANGER? [SEP] <s>Name? the cop with the notebook murmured.     Loyce. He mopped his forehead wearily. Edward C. Loyce. Listen to me.Back there—     Address? the cop demanded. The police car moved swiftly throughtraffic, shooting among the cars and buses. Loyce sagged against theseat, exhausted and confused. He took a deep shuddering breath.     1368 Hurst Road.     That's here in Pikeville?     That's right. Loyce pulled himself up with a violent effort. Listento me. Back there. In the square. Hanging from the lamppost—     Where were you today? the cop behind the wheel demanded.     Where? Loyce echoed.     You weren't in your shop, were you?     No. He shook his head. No, I was home. Down in the basement.     In the      basement     ?     Digging. A new foundation. Getting out the dirt to pour a cement frame.Why? What has that to do with—     Was anybody else down there with you?     No. My wife was downtown. My kids were at school. Loyce looked fromone heavy-set cop to the other. Hope flicked across his face, wild hope.You mean because I was down there I missed—the explanation? I didn'tget in on it? Like everybody else?     After a pause the cop with the notebook said: That's right. You missedthe explanation.     Then it's official? The body—it's      supposed     to be hanging there?     It's supposed to be hanging there. For everybody to see.     Ed Loyce grinned weakly. Good Lord. I guess I sort of went off the deepend. I thought maybe something had happened. You know, something likethe Ku Klux Klan. Some kind of violence. Communists or Fascists takingover. He wiped his face with his breast-pocket handkerchief, his handsshaking. I'm glad to know it's on the level.     It's on the level. The police car was getting near the Hall ofJustice. The sun had set. The streets were gloomy and dark. The lightshad not yet come on.     I feel better, Loyce said. I was pretty excited there, for a minute.I guess I got all stirred up. Now that I understand, there's no need totake me in, is there?     The two cops said nothing.     I should be back at my store. The boys haven't had dinner. I'm allright, now. No more trouble. Is there any need of—     This won't take long, the cop behind the wheel interrupted. A shortprocess. Only a few minutes.     I hope it's short, Loyce muttered. The car slowed down for astoplight. I guess I sort of disturbed the peace. Funny, gettingexcited like that and—     Loyce yanked the door open. He sprawled out into the street and rolledto his feet. Cars were moving all around him, gaining speed as the lightchanged. Loyce leaped onto the curb and raced among the people,burrowing into the swarming crowds. Behind him he heard sounds, shouts,people running.     They weren't cops. He had realized that right away. He knew every cop inPikeville. A man couldn't own a store, operate a business in a smalltown for twenty-five years without getting to know all the cops.     They weren't cops—and there hadn't been any explanation. Potter,Fergusson, Jenkins, none of them knew why it was there. They didn'tknow—and they didn't care.      That     was the strange part.     Loyce ducked into a hardware store. He raced toward the back, past thestartled clerks and customers, into the shipping room and through theback door. He tripped over a garbage can and ran up a flight of concretesteps. He climbed over a fence and jumped down on the other side,gasping and panting.     There was no sound behind him. He had got away.     He was at the entrance of an alley, dark and strewn with boards andruined boxes and tires. He could see the street at the far end. A streetlight wavered and came on. Men and women. Stores. Neon signs. Cars.     And to his right—the police station.     He was close, terribly close. Past the loading platform of a grocerystore rose the white concrete side of the Hall of Justice. Barredwindows. The police antenna. A great concrete wall rising up in thedarkness. A bad place for him to be near. He was too close. He had tokeep moving, get farther away from them.       Them?       Loyce moved cautiously down the alley. Beyond the police station was theCity Hall, the old-fashioned yellow structure of wood and gilded brassand broad cement steps. He could see the endless rows of offices, darkwindows, the cedars and beds of flowers on each side of the entrance.     And—something else.     Above the City Hall was a patch of darkness, a cone of gloom denser thanthe surrounding night. A prism of black that spread out and was lostinto the sky.     He listened. Good God, he could hear something. Something that made himstruggle frantically to close his ears, his mind, to shut out the sound.A buzzing. A distant, muted hum like a great swarm of bees.     Loyce gazed up, rigid with horror. The splotch of darkness, hanging overthe City Hall. Darkness so thick it seemed almost solid.      In the vortexsomething moved.     Flickering shapes. Things, descending from the sky,pausing momentarily above the City Hall, fluttering over it in a denseswarm and then dropping silently onto the roof.     Shapes. Fluttering shapes from the sky. From the crack of darkness thathung above him.     He was seeing—them.  <doc-sep>They kept a tape recorder going all the time he talked. When he hadfinished the Commissioner snapped off the recorder and got to his feet.He stood for a moment, deep in thought. Finally he got out hiscigarettes and lit up slowly, a frown on his beefy face.     You don't believe me, Loyce said.     The Commissioner offered him a cigarette. Loyce pushed it impatientlyaway. Suit yourself. The Commissioner moved over to the window andstood for a time looking out at the town of Oak Grove. I believe you,he said abruptly.     Loyce sagged. Thank God.     So you got away. The Commissioner shook his head. You were down inyour cellar instead of at work. A freak chance. One in a million.     Loyce sipped some of the black coffee they had brought him. I have atheory, he murmured.     What is it?     About them. Who they are. They take over one area at a time. Startingat the top—the highest level of authority. Working down from there in awidening circle. When they're firmly in control they go on to the nexttown. They spread, slowly, very gradually. I think it's been going onfor a long time.     A long time?     Thousands of years. I don't think it's new.     Why do you say that?     When I was a kid.... A picture they showed us in Bible League. Areligious picture—an old print. The enemy gods, defeated by Jehovah.Moloch, Beelzebub, Moab, Baalin, Ashtaroth—     So?     They were all represented by figures. Loyce looked up at theCommissioner. Beelzebub was represented as—a giant fly.     The Commissioner grunted. An old struggle.     They've been defeated. The Bible is an account of their defeats. Theymake gains—but finally they're defeated.     Why defeated?     They can't get everyone. They didn't get me. And they never got theHebrews. The Hebrews carried the message to the whole world. Therealization of the danger. The two men on the bus. I think theyunderstood. Had escaped, like I did. He clenched his fists. I killedone of them. I made a mistake. I was afraid to take a chance.     The Commissioner nodded. Yes, they undoubtedly had escaped, as you did.Freak accidents. But the rest of the town was firmly in control. Heturned from the window. Well, Mr. Loyce. You seem to have figuredeverything out.     Not everything. The hanging man. The dead man hanging from thelamppost. I don't understand that.      Why?     Why did they deliberately hanghim there?     That would seem simple. The Commissioner smiled faintly.       Bait.          Loyce stiffened. His heart stopped beating. Bait? What do you mean?     To draw you out. Make you declare yourself. So they'd know who wasunder control—and who had escaped.     Loyce recoiled with horror. Then they      expected     failures! Theyanticipated— He broke off. They were ready with a trap.     And you showed yourself. You reacted. You made yourself known. TheCommissioner abruptly moved toward the door. Come along, Loyce. There'sa lot to do. We must get moving. There's no time to waste.     Loyce started slowly to his feet, numbed. And the man.      Who was theman?     I never saw him before. He wasn't a local man. He was a stranger.All muddy and dirty, his face cut, slashed—     There was a strange look on the Commissioner's face as he answered.Maybe, he said softly, you'll understand that, too. Come along withme, Mr. Loyce. He held the door open, his eyes gleaming. Loyce caught aglimpse of the street in front of the police station. Policemen, aplatform of some sort. A telephone pole—and a rope! Right this way,the Commissioner said, smiling coldly.  <doc-sep>Look at it! Loyce snapped. Come on out here!     Don Fergusson came slowly out of the store, buttoning his pin-stripecoat with dignity. This is a big deal, Ed. I can't just leave the guystanding there.     See it? Ed pointed into the gathering gloom. The lamppost jutted upagainst the sky—the post and the bundle swinging from it. There it is.How the hell long has it been there? His voice rose excitedly. What'swrong with everybody? They just walk on past!     Don Fergusson lit a cigarette slowly. Take it easy, old man. There mustbe a good reason, or it wouldn't be there.     A reason! What kind of a reason?     Fergusson shrugged. Like the time the Traffic Safety Council put thatwrecked Buick there. Some sort of civic thing. How would I know?     Jack Potter from the shoe shop joined them. What's up, boys?     There's a body hanging from the lamppost, Loyce said. I'm going tocall the cops.     They must know about it, Potter said. Or otherwise it wouldn't bethere.     I got to get back in. Fergusson headed back into the store. Businessbefore pleasure.     Loyce began to get hysterical. You see it? You see it hanging there? Aman's body! A dead man!     Sure, Ed. I saw it this afternoon when I went out for coffee.     You mean it's been there all afternoon?     Sure. What's the matter? Potter glanced at his watch. Have to run.See you later, Ed.     Potter hurried off, joining the flow of people moving along thesidewalk. Men and women, passing by the park. A few glanced up curiouslyat the dark bundle—and then went on. Nobody stopped. Nobody paid anyattention.     I'm going nuts, Loyce whispered. He made his way to the curb andcrossed out into traffic, among the cars. Horns honked angrily at him.He gained the curb and stepped up onto the little square of green.     The man had been middle-aged. His clothing was ripped and torn, a graysuit, splashed and caked with dried mud. A stranger. Loyce had neverseen him before. Not a local man. His face was partly turned, away, andin the evening wind he spun a little, turning gently, silently. His skinwas gouged and cut. Red gashes, deep scratches of congealed blood. Apair of steel-rimmed glasses hung from one ear, dangling foolishly. Hiseyes bulged. His mouth was open, tongue thick and ugly blue.     For Heaven's sake, Loyce muttered, sickened. He pushed down his nauseaand made his way back to the sidewalk. He was shaking all over, withrevulsion—and fear.       Why?     Who was the man? Why was he hanging there? What did it mean?     And—why didn't anybody notice?     He bumped into a small man hurrying along the sidewalk. Watch it! theman grated, Oh, it's you, Ed.     Ed nodded dazedly. Hello, Jenkins.     What's the matter? The stationery clerk caught Ed's arm. You looksick.     The body. There in the park.     Sure, Ed. Jenkins led him into the alcove of LOYCE TV SALES ANDSERVICE. Take it easy.     Margaret Henderson from the jewelry store joined them. Somethingwrong?     Ed's not feeling well.     Loyce yanked himself free. How can you stand here? Don't you see it?For God's sake—     What's he talking about? Margaret asked nervously.     The body! Ed shouted. The body hanging there!     More people collected. Is he sick? It's Ed Loyce. You okay, Ed?     The body! Loyce screamed, struggling to get past them. Hands caught athim. He tore loose. Let me go! The police! Get the police!     Ed—     Better get a doctor!     He must be sick.     Or drunk.     Loyce fought his way through the people. He stumbled and half fell.Through a blur he saw rows of faces, curious, concerned, anxious. Menand women halting to see what the disturbance was. He fought past themtoward his store. He could see Fergusson inside talking to a man,showing him an Emerson TV set. Pete Foley in the back at the servicecounter, setting up a new Philco. Loyce shouted at them frantically.His voice was lost in the roar of traffic and the murmur around him.     Do something! he screamed. Don't stand there! Do something!Something's wrong! Something's happened! Things are going on!     The crowd melted respectfully for the two heavy-set cops movingefficiently toward Loyce.  <doc-sep>   THE HANGING STRANGER     BY PHILIP K. DICK     ILLUSTRATED BY SMITH     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Science FictionAdventures Magazine December 1953. Extensive research did not uncoverany evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]     Ed had always been a practical man, when he saw something waswrong he tried to correct it. Then one day he saw    it   hanging in thetown square.    Five o'clock Ed Loyce washed up, tossed on his hat and coat, got his carout and headed across town toward his TV sales store. He was tired. Hisback and shoulders ached from digging dirt out of the basement andwheeling it into the back yard. But for a forty-year-old man he had doneokay. Janet could get a new vase with the money he had saved; and heliked the idea of repairing the foundations himself!     It was getting dark. The setting sun cast long rays over the scurryingcommuters, tired and grim-faced, women loaded down with bundles andpackages, students swarming home from the university, mixing with clerksand businessmen and drab secretaries. He stopped his Packard for a redlight and then started it up again. The store had been open without him;he'd arrive just in time to spell the help for dinner, go over therecords of the day, maybe even close a couple of sales himself. He droveslowly past the small square of green in the center of the street, thetown park. There were no parking places in front of LOYCE TV SALES ANDSERVICE. He cursed under his breath and swung the car in a U-turn. Againhe passed the little square of green with its lonely drinking fountainand bench and single lamppost.     From the lamppost something was hanging. A shapeless dark bundle,swinging a little with the wind. Like a dummy of some sort. Loyce rolleddown his window and peered out. What the hell was it? A display ofsome kind? Sometimes the Chamber of Commerce put up displays in thesquare.     Again he made a U-turn and brought his car around. He passed the parkand concentrated on the dark bundle. It wasn't a dummy. And if it was adisplay it was a strange kind. The hackles on his neck rose and heswallowed uneasily. Sweat slid out on his face and hands.     It was a body. A human body.  <doc-sep>Loyce relaxed a little. He studied the people around him. Dulled, tiredfaces. People going home from work. Quite ordinary faces. None of thempaid any attention to him. All sat quietly, sunk down in their seats,jiggling with the motion of the bus.     The man sitting next to him unfolded a newspaper. He began to read thesports section, his lips moving. An ordinary man. Blue suit. Tie. Abusinessman, or a salesman. On his way home to his wife and family.     Across the aisle a young woman, perhaps twenty. Dark eyes and hair, apackage on her lap. Nylons and heels. Red coat and white angora sweater.Gazing absently ahead of her.     A high school boy in jeans and black jacket.     A great triple-chinned woman with an immense shopping bag loaded withpackages and parcels. Her thick face dim with weariness.     Ordinary people. The kind that rode the bus every evening. Going home totheir families. To dinner.     Going home—with their minds dead. Controlled, filmed over with the maskof an alien being that had appeared and taken possession of them, theirtown, their lives. Himself, too. Except that he happened to be deep inhis cellar instead of in the store. Somehow, he had been overlooked.They had missed him. Their control wasn't perfect, foolproof.     Maybe there were others.     Hope flickered in Loyce. They weren't omnipotent. They had made amistake, not got control of him. Their net, their field of control, hadpassed over him. He had emerged from his cellar as he had gone down.Apparently their power-zone was limited.     A few seats down the aisle a man was watching him. Loyce broke off hischain of thought. A slender man, with dark hair and a small mustache.Well-dressed, brown suit and shiny shoes. A book between his smallhands. He was watching Loyce, studying him intently. He turned quicklyaway.     Loyce tensed. One of      them     ? Or—another they had missed?     The man was watching him again. Small dark eyes, alive and clever.Shrewd. A man too shrewd for them—or one of the things itself, an alieninsect from beyond.     The bus halted. An elderly man got on slowly and dropped his token intothe box. He moved down the aisle and took a seat opposite Loyce.     The elderly man caught the sharp-eyed man's gaze. For a split secondsomething passed between them.     A look rich with meaning.     Loyce got to his feet. The bus was moving. He ran to the door. One stepdown into the well. He yanked the emergency door release. The rubberdoor swung open.     Hey! the driver shouted, jamming on the brakes. What the hell—     Loyce squirmed through. The bus was slowing down. Houses on all sides. Aresidential district, lawns and tall apartment buildings. Behind him,the bright-eyed man had leaped up. The elderly man was also on his feet.They were coming after him.     Loyce leaped. He hit the pavement with terrific force and rolled againstthe curb. Pain lapped over him. Pain and a vast tide of blackness.Desperately, he fought it off. He struggled to his knees and then sliddown again. The bus had stopped. People were getting off.     Loyce groped around. His fingers closed over something. A rock, lying inthe gutter. He crawled to his feet, grunting with pain. A shape loomedbefore him. A man, the bright-eyed man with the book.     Loyce kicked. The man gasped and fell. Loyce brought the rock down. Theman screamed and tried to roll away.       Stop!     For God's sake listen—     He struck again. A hideous crunching sound. The man's voice cut off anddissolved in a bubbling wail. Loyce scrambled up and back. The otherswere there, now. All around him. He ran, awkwardly, down the sidewalk,up a driveway. None of them followed him. They had stopped and werebending over the inert body of the man with the book, the bright-eyedman who had come after him.     Had he made a mistake?     But it was too late to worry about that. He had to get out—away fromthem. Out of Pikeville, beyond the crack of darkness, the rent betweentheir world and his.  <doc-sep>Being a beggar, Skkiru discovered, did give him certain small,momentary advantages over those who had been alloted higher ranks.For one thing, it was quite in character for him to tread curiouslyupon the strangers' heels all the way to the temple—a ramshackleaffair, but then it had been run up in only three days—where theofficial reception was to be held. The principal difficulty was that,because of his equipment, he had a little trouble keeping himself fromovershooting the strangers. And though Bbulas might frown menacingly athim—and not only for his forwardness—that was in character on bothsides, too.     Nonetheless, Skkiru could not reconcile himself to his beggarhood, nomatter how much he tried to comfort himself by thinking at least hewasn't a pariah like the unfortunate metal-workers who had to standsegregated from the rest by a chain of their own devising—a poeticthought, that was, but well in keeping with his beggarhood. Beggarswere often poets, he believed, and poets almost always beggars. Sincemetal-working was the chief industry of Snaddra, this had provided theplanet automatically with a large lowest caste. Bbulas had taken theeasy way out.     Skkiru swallowed the last of the chocolate and regarded the highpriest with a simple-minded mendicant's grin. However, there werevolcanic passions within him that surged up from his toes when, as thewind and rain whipped through his scanty coverings, he remembered thesnug underskirts Bbulas was wearing beneath his warm gown. They weremetal, but they were solid. All the garments visible or potentiallyvisible were of woven metal, because, although there was cloth on theplanet, it was not politic for the Earthmen to discover how heavily theSnaddrath depended upon imports.     As the Earthmen reached the temple, Larhgan now appeared to join Bbulasat the head of the long flight of stairs that led to it. AlthoughSkkiru had seen her in her priestly apparel before, it had not madethe emotional impression upon him then that it did now, when, standingthere, clad in beauty, dignity and warm clothes, she bade the newcomerswelcome in several thousand words not too well chosen for her byBbulas—who fancied himself a speech-writer as well as a speech-maker,for there was no end to the man's conceit.     The difference between her magnificent garments and his own miserablerags had their full impact upon Skkiru at this moment. He saw the gulfthat had been dug between them and, for the first time in his shortlife, he felt the tormenting pangs of caste distinction. She looked solovely and so remote.     ... and so you are most welcome to Snaddra, men of Earth, she wassaying in her melodious voice. Our resources may be small but ourhearts are large, and what little we have, we offer with humility andwith love. We hope that you will enjoy as long and as happy a stay hereas you did on Nemeth....     Cyril looked at Raoul, who, however, seemed too absorbed incontemplating Larhgan's apparently universal charms to pay muchattention to the expression on his companion's face.     ... and that you will carry our affection back to all the peoples ofthe Galaxy.  <doc-sep>   CALL HIM NEMESIS     By DONALD E. WESTLAKE     Criminals, beware; the Scorpion is on     your trail! Hoodlums fear his fury—and,     for that matter, so do the cops!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The man with the handkerchief mask said, All right, everybody, keeptight. This is a holdup.     There were twelve people in the bank. There was Mr. Featherhall athis desk, refusing to okay a personal check from a perfect stranger.There was the perfect stranger, an itinerant garage mechanic namedRodney (Rod) Strom, like the check said. There were Miss English andMiss Philicoff, the girls in the gilded teller cages. There was MisterAnderson, the guard, dozing by the door in his brown uniform. There wasMrs. Elizabeth Clayhorn, depositing her husband's pay check in theirjoint checking account, and with her was her ten-year-old son Edward(Eddie) Clayhorn, Junior. There was Charlie Casale, getting ten dollarsdimes, six dollars nickels and four dollars pennies for his fatherin the grocery store down the street. There was Mrs. Dolly Daniels,withdrawing money from her savings account again. And there were threebank robbers.     The three bank robbers looked like triplets. From the ground up, theyall wore scuffy black shoes, baggy-kneed and unpressed khaki trousers,brown cracked-leather jackets over flannel shirts, white handkerchiefsover the lower half of their faces and gray-and-white check caps pulledlow over their eyes. The eyes themselves looked dangerous.     The man who had spoken withdrew a small but mean-looking thirty-twocalibre pistol from his jacket pocket. He waved it menacingly. One ofthe others took the pistol away from Mister Anderson, the guard, andsaid to him in a low voice, Think about retirement, my friend. Thethird one, who carried a black satchel like a doctor's bag, walkedquickly around behind the teller's counter and started filling it withmoney.     It was just like the movies.     The man who had first spoken herded the tellers, Mr. Featherhall andthe customers all over against the back wall, while the second manstayed next to Mr. Anderson and the door. The third man stuffed moneyinto the black satchel.     The man by the door said, Hurry up.     The man with the satchel said, One more drawer.     The man with the gun turned to say to the man at the door, Keep yourshirt on.     That was all Miss English needed. She kicked off her shoes and ranpelting in her stocking feet for the door.  <doc-sep>The early morning sunlight was blinding. Loyce halted, gasping forbreath, swaying back and forth. Sweat ran down in his eyes. His clothingwas torn, shredded by the brush and thorns through which he had crawled.Ten miles—on his hands and knees. Crawling, creeping through the night.His shoes were mud-caked. He was scratched and limping, utterlyexhausted.     But ahead of him lay Oak Grove.     He took a deep breath and started down the hill. Twice he stumbled andfell, picking himself up and trudging on. His ears rang. Everythingreceded and wavered. But he was there. He had got out, away fromPikeville.     A farmer in a field gaped at him. From a house a young woman watched inwonder. Loyce reached the road and turned onto it. Ahead of him was agasoline station and a drive-in. A couple of trucks, some chickenspecking in the dirt, a dog tied with a string.     The white-clad attendant watched suspiciously as he dragged himself upto the station. Thank God. He caught hold of the wall. I didn't thinkI was going to make it. They followed me most of the way. I could hearthem buzzing. Buzzing and flitting around behind me.     What happened? the attendant demanded. You in a wreck? A hold-up?     Loyce shook his head wearily. They have the whole town. The City Halland the police station. They hung a man from the lamppost. That was thefirst thing I saw. They've got all the roads blocked. I saw themhovering over the cars coming in. About four this morning I got beyondthem. I knew it right away. I could feel them leave. And then the suncame up.     The attendant licked his lip nervously. You're out of your head. Ibetter get a doctor.     Get me into Oak Grove, Loyce gasped. He sank down on the gravel.We've got to get started—cleaning them out. Got to get started rightaway.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What are the defining traits of Edward C. Loyce, the character in THE HANGING STRANGER?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How does the presence of the hanged human body contribute to the plot of THE HANGING STRANGER? [SEP] <s>   THE HANGING STRANGER     BY PHILIP K. DICK     ILLUSTRATED BY SMITH     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Science FictionAdventures Magazine December 1953. Extensive research did not uncoverany evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]     Ed had always been a practical man, when he saw something waswrong he tried to correct it. Then one day he saw    it   hanging in thetown square.    Five o'clock Ed Loyce washed up, tossed on his hat and coat, got his carout and headed across town toward his TV sales store. He was tired. Hisback and shoulders ached from digging dirt out of the basement andwheeling it into the back yard. But for a forty-year-old man he had doneokay. Janet could get a new vase with the money he had saved; and heliked the idea of repairing the foundations himself!     It was getting dark. The setting sun cast long rays over the scurryingcommuters, tired and grim-faced, women loaded down with bundles andpackages, students swarming home from the university, mixing with clerksand businessmen and drab secretaries. He stopped his Packard for a redlight and then started it up again. The store had been open without him;he'd arrive just in time to spell the help for dinner, go over therecords of the day, maybe even close a couple of sales himself. He droveslowly past the small square of green in the center of the street, thetown park. There were no parking places in front of LOYCE TV SALES ANDSERVICE. He cursed under his breath and swung the car in a U-turn. Againhe passed the little square of green with its lonely drinking fountainand bench and single lamppost.     From the lamppost something was hanging. A shapeless dark bundle,swinging a little with the wind. Like a dummy of some sort. Loyce rolleddown his window and peered out. What the hell was it? A display ofsome kind? Sometimes the Chamber of Commerce put up displays in thesquare.     Again he made a U-turn and brought his car around. He passed the parkand concentrated on the dark bundle. It wasn't a dummy. And if it was adisplay it was a strange kind. The hackles on his neck rose and heswallowed uneasily. Sweat slid out on his face and hands.     It was a body. A human body.  <doc-sep>Look at it! Loyce snapped. Come on out here!     Don Fergusson came slowly out of the store, buttoning his pin-stripecoat with dignity. This is a big deal, Ed. I can't just leave the guystanding there.     See it? Ed pointed into the gathering gloom. The lamppost jutted upagainst the sky—the post and the bundle swinging from it. There it is.How the hell long has it been there? His voice rose excitedly. What'swrong with everybody? They just walk on past!     Don Fergusson lit a cigarette slowly. Take it easy, old man. There mustbe a good reason, or it wouldn't be there.     A reason! What kind of a reason?     Fergusson shrugged. Like the time the Traffic Safety Council put thatwrecked Buick there. Some sort of civic thing. How would I know?     Jack Potter from the shoe shop joined them. What's up, boys?     There's a body hanging from the lamppost, Loyce said. I'm going tocall the cops.     They must know about it, Potter said. Or otherwise it wouldn't bethere.     I got to get back in. Fergusson headed back into the store. Businessbefore pleasure.     Loyce began to get hysterical. You see it? You see it hanging there? Aman's body! A dead man!     Sure, Ed. I saw it this afternoon when I went out for coffee.     You mean it's been there all afternoon?     Sure. What's the matter? Potter glanced at his watch. Have to run.See you later, Ed.     Potter hurried off, joining the flow of people moving along thesidewalk. Men and women, passing by the park. A few glanced up curiouslyat the dark bundle—and then went on. Nobody stopped. Nobody paid anyattention.     I'm going nuts, Loyce whispered. He made his way to the curb andcrossed out into traffic, among the cars. Horns honked angrily at him.He gained the curb and stepped up onto the little square of green.     The man had been middle-aged. His clothing was ripped and torn, a graysuit, splashed and caked with dried mud. A stranger. Loyce had neverseen him before. Not a local man. His face was partly turned, away, andin the evening wind he spun a little, turning gently, silently. His skinwas gouged and cut. Red gashes, deep scratches of congealed blood. Apair of steel-rimmed glasses hung from one ear, dangling foolishly. Hiseyes bulged. His mouth was open, tongue thick and ugly blue.     For Heaven's sake, Loyce muttered, sickened. He pushed down his nauseaand made his way back to the sidewalk. He was shaking all over, withrevulsion—and fear.       Why?     Who was the man? Why was he hanging there? What did it mean?     And—why didn't anybody notice?     He bumped into a small man hurrying along the sidewalk. Watch it! theman grated, Oh, it's you, Ed.     Ed nodded dazedly. Hello, Jenkins.     What's the matter? The stationery clerk caught Ed's arm. You looksick.     The body. There in the park.     Sure, Ed. Jenkins led him into the alcove of LOYCE TV SALES ANDSERVICE. Take it easy.     Margaret Henderson from the jewelry store joined them. Somethingwrong?     Ed's not feeling well.     Loyce yanked himself free. How can you stand here? Don't you see it?For God's sake—     What's he talking about? Margaret asked nervously.     The body! Ed shouted. The body hanging there!     More people collected. Is he sick? It's Ed Loyce. You okay, Ed?     The body! Loyce screamed, struggling to get past them. Hands caught athim. He tore loose. Let me go! The police! Get the police!     Ed—     Better get a doctor!     He must be sick.     Or drunk.     Loyce fought his way through the people. He stumbled and half fell.Through a blur he saw rows of faces, curious, concerned, anxious. Menand women halting to see what the disturbance was. He fought past themtoward his store. He could see Fergusson inside talking to a man,showing him an Emerson TV set. Pete Foley in the back at the servicecounter, setting up a new Philco. Loyce shouted at them frantically.His voice was lost in the roar of traffic and the murmur around him.     Do something! he screamed. Don't stand there! Do something!Something's wrong! Something's happened! Things are going on!     The crowd melted respectfully for the two heavy-set cops movingefficiently toward Loyce.  <doc-sep>They kept a tape recorder going all the time he talked. When he hadfinished the Commissioner snapped off the recorder and got to his feet.He stood for a moment, deep in thought. Finally he got out hiscigarettes and lit up slowly, a frown on his beefy face.     You don't believe me, Loyce said.     The Commissioner offered him a cigarette. Loyce pushed it impatientlyaway. Suit yourself. The Commissioner moved over to the window andstood for a time looking out at the town of Oak Grove. I believe you,he said abruptly.     Loyce sagged. Thank God.     So you got away. The Commissioner shook his head. You were down inyour cellar instead of at work. A freak chance. One in a million.     Loyce sipped some of the black coffee they had brought him. I have atheory, he murmured.     What is it?     About them. Who they are. They take over one area at a time. Startingat the top—the highest level of authority. Working down from there in awidening circle. When they're firmly in control they go on to the nexttown. They spread, slowly, very gradually. I think it's been going onfor a long time.     A long time?     Thousands of years. I don't think it's new.     Why do you say that?     When I was a kid.... A picture they showed us in Bible League. Areligious picture—an old print. The enemy gods, defeated by Jehovah.Moloch, Beelzebub, Moab, Baalin, Ashtaroth—     So?     They were all represented by figures. Loyce looked up at theCommissioner. Beelzebub was represented as—a giant fly.     The Commissioner grunted. An old struggle.     They've been defeated. The Bible is an account of their defeats. Theymake gains—but finally they're defeated.     Why defeated?     They can't get everyone. They didn't get me. And they never got theHebrews. The Hebrews carried the message to the whole world. Therealization of the danger. The two men on the bus. I think theyunderstood. Had escaped, like I did. He clenched his fists. I killedone of them. I made a mistake. I was afraid to take a chance.     The Commissioner nodded. Yes, they undoubtedly had escaped, as you did.Freak accidents. But the rest of the town was firmly in control. Heturned from the window. Well, Mr. Loyce. You seem to have figuredeverything out.     Not everything. The hanging man. The dead man hanging from thelamppost. I don't understand that.      Why?     Why did they deliberately hanghim there?     That would seem simple. The Commissioner smiled faintly.       Bait.          Loyce stiffened. His heart stopped beating. Bait? What do you mean?     To draw you out. Make you declare yourself. So they'd know who wasunder control—and who had escaped.     Loyce recoiled with horror. Then they      expected     failures! Theyanticipated— He broke off. They were ready with a trap.     And you showed yourself. You reacted. You made yourself known. TheCommissioner abruptly moved toward the door. Come along, Loyce. There'sa lot to do. We must get moving. There's no time to waste.     Loyce started slowly to his feet, numbed. And the man.      Who was theman?     I never saw him before. He wasn't a local man. He was a stranger.All muddy and dirty, his face cut, slashed—     There was a strange look on the Commissioner's face as he answered.Maybe, he said softly, you'll understand that, too. Come along withme, Mr. Loyce. He held the door open, his eyes gleaming. Loyce caught aglimpse of the street in front of the police station. Policemen, aplatform of some sort. A telephone pole—and a rope! Right this way,the Commissioner said, smiling coldly.  <doc-sep>  He  took a walk.     The town was just comingto life. People were strollingout of their houses, commentingon the weather, chucklingamiably about local affairs.Kids on bicycles were beginningto appear, jangling thelittle bells and hooting toeach other. A woman, hangingwash in the back yard,called out to him, thinkinghe was somebody else.     He found a little park, nomore than twenty yards incircumference, centeredaround a weatherbeaten monumentof some unrecognizablemilitary figure. Threeold men took their places onthe bench that circled theGeneral, and leaned on theircanes.     Sol was a civil engineer.But he made like a reporter.     Pardon me, sir. The oldman, leathery-faced, with afine yellow moustache, lookedat him dumbly. Have youever heard of Armagon?     You a stranger?     Yes.     Thought so.     Sol repeated the question.     Course I did. Been goin'there ever since I was a kid.Night-times, that is.     How—I mean, what kindof place is it?     Said you're a stranger?     Yes.     Then 'tain't your business.     That was that.     He left the park, and wanderedinto a thriving luncheonette.He tried questioningthe man behind the counter,who merely snickered andsaid: You stayin' with theDawes, ain't you? Better askWillie, then. He knows theplace better than anybody.     He asked about the execution,and the man stiffened.     Don't think I can talkabout that. Fella broke one ofthe Laws; that's about it.Don't see where you comeinto it.     At eleven o'clock, he returnedto the Dawes residence,and found Mom in thekitchen, surrounded by thewarm nostalgic odor of home-bakedbread. She told himthat her husband had left amessage for the stranger, informinghim that the StatePolice would be around to gethis story.     He waited in the house,gloomily turning the pages ofthe local newspaper, searchingfor references to Armagon.He found nothing.     At eleven-thirty, a brown-facedState Trooper came tocall, and Sol told his story.He was promised nothing,and told to stay in town untilhe was contacted again bythe authorities.     Mom fixed him a lightlunch, the greatest feature ofwhich was some hot biscuitsshe plucked out of the oven.It made him feel almost normal.     He wandered around thetown some more after lunch,trying to spark conversationwith the residents.     He learned little. <doc-sep>About fifty more applicants were processed without a hitch. Then lifestarted to get complicated again.     Nine of the fifty were okay. The rest were unacceptable for one reasonor another, and they took the bad news quietly enough. The haul for theday so far was close to two dozen new life-forms under contract.     I had just about begun to forget about the incidents of the Kallerian'soutraged pride and the Stortulian's flighty wife when the door openedand the Earthman who called himself Ildwar Gorb of Wazzenazz XIIIstepped in.     How did      you     get in here? I demanded.     Your man happened to be looking the wrong way, he said cheerily.Change your mind about me yet?     Get out before I have you thrown out.     Gorb shrugged. I figured you hadn't changed your mind, so I've changedmy pitch a bit. If you won't believe I'm from Wazzenazz XIII, suppose Itell you that I      am     Earthborn, and that I'm looking for a job on yourstaff.     I don't care      what     your story is! Get out or—     —you'll have me thrown out. Okay, okay. Just give me half a second.Corrigan, you're no fool, and neither am I—but that fellow of yoursoutside      is     . He doesn't know how to handle alien beings. How manytimes today has a life-form come in here unexpectedly?     I scowled at him. Too damn many.     You see? He's incompetent. Suppose you fire him, take me on instead.I've been living in the outworlds half my life; I know all there is toknow about alien life-forms. You can use me, Corrigan.     I took a deep breath and glanced all around the paneled ceiling ofthe office before I spoke. Listen, Gorb, or whatever your name is,I've had a hard day. There's been a Kallerian in here who just aboutthreatened murder, and there's been a Stortulian in here who's aboutto commit suicide because of me. I have a conscience and it's troublingme. But get this: I just want to finish off my recruiting, pack up andgo home to Earth. I don't want you hanging around here bothering me.I'm not looking to hire new staff members, and if you switch back toclaiming you're an unknown life-form from Wazzenazz XIII, the answer isthat I'm not looking for any of      those     either. Now will you scram or—     The office door crashed open at that point and Heraal, the Kallerian,came thundering in. He was dressed from head to toe in glitteringmetalfoil, and instead of his ceremonial blaster, he was wieldinga sword the length of a human being. Stebbins and Auchinleck camedragging helplessly along in his wake, hanging desperately to his belt.     Sorry, Chief, Stebbins gasped. I tried to keep him out, but—     Heraal, who had planted himself in front of my desk, drowned him outwith a roar. Earthman, you have mortally insulted the Clan Gursdrinn!  <doc-sep>Quickly Steffens called for height. The ship bucked beneath him andblasted straight up; some of the crew went crashing to the deck.Steffens remained by the screen, increasing the magnification as theship drew away. And he saw another, then two, then a black glidinggroup, all matched with bunches of hanging arms.     Nothing alive but robots, he thought,      robots     . He adjusted to fullclose up as quickly as he could and the picture focused on the screen.Behind him he heard a crewman grunt in amazement.     A band of clear, plasticlike stuff ran round the head—it would be theeye, a band of eye that saw all ways. On the top of the head was asingle round spot of the plastic, and the rest was black metal, joined,he realized, with fantastic perfection. The angle of sight was nowalmost perpendicular. He could see very little of the branching arms ofthe trunk, but what had been on the screen was enough. They were themost perfect robots he had ever seen.     The ship leveled off. Steffens had no idea what to do; the sudden sightof the moving things had unnerved him. He had already sounded thealert, flicked out the defense screens. Now he had nothing to do. Hetried to concentrate on what the League Law would have him do.     The Law was no help. Contact with planet-bound races was forbiddenunder any circumstances. But could a bunch of robots be called a race?The Law said nothing about robots because Earthmen had none. Thebuilding of imaginative robots was expressly forbidden. But at anyrate, Steffens thought, he had made contact already.     While Steffens stood by the screen, completely bewildered for the firsttime in his space career, Lieutenant Ball came up, hobbling slightly.From the bright new bruise on his cheek, Steffens guessed that thesudden climb had caught him unaware. The exec was pale with surprise.     What were they? he said blankly. Lord, they looked like robots!     They were.     Ball stared confoundedly at the screen. The things were now a confusionof dots in the mist.     Almost humanoid, Steffens said, but not quite.     Ball was slowly absorbing the situation. He turned to gaze inquiringlyat Steffens.     Well, what do we do now?     Steffens shrugged. They saw us. We could leave now and let them quitepossibly make a ... a legend out of our visit, or we could go down andsee if they tie in with the buildings on Tyban IV.           Can     we go down?     Legally? I don't know. If they are robots, yes, since robots cannotconstitute a race. But there's another possibility. He tapped hisfingers on the screen confusedly. They don't have to be robots at all.They could be the natives.     Ball gulped. I don't follow you.     They could be the original inhabitants of this planet—the brains ofthem, at least, protected in radiation-proof metal. Anyway, he added,they're the most perfect mechanicals I've ever seen.     Ball shook his head, sat down abruptly. Steffens turned from thescreen, strode nervously across the Main Deck, thinking.     The Mapping Command, they called it. Theoretically, all he was supposedto do was make a closeup examination of unexplored systems, checkingfor the presence of life-forms as well as for the possibilities ofhuman colonization. Make a check and nothing else. But he knew veryclearly that if he returned to Sirius base without investigating thisrobot situation, he could very well be court-martialed one way or theother, either for breaking the Law of Contact or for dereliction ofduty.     And there was also the possibility, which abruptly occurred to him,that the robots might well be prepared to blow his ship to hell andgone.     He stopped in the center of the deck. A whole new line of thoughtopened up. If the robots were armed and ready ... could this be anoutpost?       An outpost!       He turned and raced for the bridge. If he went in and landed and waslost, then the League might never know in time. If he went in andstirred up trouble....     The thought in his mind was scattered suddenly, like a mist blown away.A voice was speaking in his mind, a deep calm voice that seemed to say:           Greetings. Do not be alarmed. We do not wish you to be alarmed. Ourdesire is only to serve....       <doc-sep>Name? the cop with the notebook murmured.     Loyce. He mopped his forehead wearily. Edward C. Loyce. Listen to me.Back there—     Address? the cop demanded. The police car moved swiftly throughtraffic, shooting among the cars and buses. Loyce sagged against theseat, exhausted and confused. He took a deep shuddering breath.     1368 Hurst Road.     That's here in Pikeville?     That's right. Loyce pulled himself up with a violent effort. Listento me. Back there. In the square. Hanging from the lamppost—     Where were you today? the cop behind the wheel demanded.     Where? Loyce echoed.     You weren't in your shop, were you?     No. He shook his head. No, I was home. Down in the basement.     In the      basement     ?     Digging. A new foundation. Getting out the dirt to pour a cement frame.Why? What has that to do with—     Was anybody else down there with you?     No. My wife was downtown. My kids were at school. Loyce looked fromone heavy-set cop to the other. Hope flicked across his face, wild hope.You mean because I was down there I missed—the explanation? I didn'tget in on it? Like everybody else?     After a pause the cop with the notebook said: That's right. You missedthe explanation.     Then it's official? The body—it's      supposed     to be hanging there?     It's supposed to be hanging there. For everybody to see.     Ed Loyce grinned weakly. Good Lord. I guess I sort of went off the deepend. I thought maybe something had happened. You know, something likethe Ku Klux Klan. Some kind of violence. Communists or Fascists takingover. He wiped his face with his breast-pocket handkerchief, his handsshaking. I'm glad to know it's on the level.     It's on the level. The police car was getting near the Hall ofJustice. The sun had set. The streets were gloomy and dark. The lightshad not yet come on.     I feel better, Loyce said. I was pretty excited there, for a minute.I guess I got all stirred up. Now that I understand, there's no need totake me in, is there?     The two cops said nothing.     I should be back at my store. The boys haven't had dinner. I'm allright, now. No more trouble. Is there any need of—     This won't take long, the cop behind the wheel interrupted. A shortprocess. Only a few minutes.     I hope it's short, Loyce muttered. The car slowed down for astoplight. I guess I sort of disturbed the peace. Funny, gettingexcited like that and—     Loyce yanked the door open. He sprawled out into the street and rolledto his feet. Cars were moving all around him, gaining speed as the lightchanged. Loyce leaped onto the curb and raced among the people,burrowing into the swarming crowds. Behind him he heard sounds, shouts,people running.     They weren't cops. He had realized that right away. He knew every cop inPikeville. A man couldn't own a store, operate a business in a smalltown for twenty-five years without getting to know all the cops.     They weren't cops—and there hadn't been any explanation. Potter,Fergusson, Jenkins, none of them knew why it was there. They didn'tknow—and they didn't care.      That     was the strange part.     Loyce ducked into a hardware store. He raced toward the back, past thestartled clerks and customers, into the shipping room and through theback door. He tripped over a garbage can and ran up a flight of concretesteps. He climbed over a fence and jumped down on the other side,gasping and panting.     There was no sound behind him. He had got away.     He was at the entrance of an alley, dark and strewn with boards andruined boxes and tires. He could see the street at the far end. A streetlight wavered and came on. Men and women. Stores. Neon signs. Cars.     And to his right—the police station.     He was close, terribly close. Past the loading platform of a grocerystore rose the white concrete side of the Hall of Justice. Barredwindows. The police antenna. A great concrete wall rising up in thedarkness. A bad place for him to be near. He was too close. He had tokeep moving, get farther away from them.       Them?       Loyce moved cautiously down the alley. Beyond the police station was theCity Hall, the old-fashioned yellow structure of wood and gilded brassand broad cement steps. He could see the endless rows of offices, darkwindows, the cedars and beds of flowers on each side of the entrance.     And—something else.     Above the City Hall was a patch of darkness, a cone of gloom denser thanthe surrounding night. A prism of black that spread out and was lostinto the sky.     He listened. Good God, he could hear something. Something that made himstruggle frantically to close his ears, his mind, to shut out the sound.A buzzing. A distant, muted hum like a great swarm of bees.     Loyce gazed up, rigid with horror. The splotch of darkness, hanging overthe City Hall. Darkness so thick it seemed almost solid.      In the vortexsomething moved.     Flickering shapes. Things, descending from the sky,pausing momentarily above the City Hall, fluttering over it in a denseswarm and then dropping silently onto the roof.     Shapes. Fluttering shapes from the sky. From the crack of darkness thathung above him.     He was seeing—them.  <doc-sep>Cyril frowned and his companion's smile vanished, as if the contortionof his superior's face had activated a circuit somewhere.      Maybe thelittle one's a robot!     However, it couldn't be—a robot would be betterconstructed and less interested in females than Raoul.     Remember, Cyril said sternly, we must not establish undue rapportwith the native females. It tends to detract from true objectivity.     Yes, Cyril, Raoul said meekly.     Cyril assumed a more cheerful aspect I should like to give this chapsomething for old times' sake. What do you suppose is the medium ofexchange here?       Money     , Skkiru said to himself, but he didn't dare contribute thispiece of information, helpful though it would be.     How should I know? Raoul shrugged.     Empathize. Get in there, old chap, and start batting.     Why not give him a bar of chocolate, then? Raoul suggested grumpily.The language of the stomach, like the language of love, is said to bea universal one.     Splendid idea! I always knew you had it in you, Raoul!     Skkiru accepted the candy with suitable—and entirely genuine—murmursof gratitude. Chocolate was found only in the most expensive of theplanet's delicacy shops—and now neither delicacy shops nor chocolatewere to be found, so, if Bbulas thought he was going to save the giftto contribute it later to the Treasury, the high priest was off hisrocker.     To make sure there would be no subsequent dispute about possession,Skkiru ate the candy then and there. Chocolate increased the body'sresistance to weather, and never before had he had to endure so muchweather all at once.     On Earth, he had heard, where people lived exposed to weather, theyoften sickened of it and passed on—which helped to solve the problemof birth control on so vulgarly fecund a planet. Snaddra, alas, neededno such measures, for its population—like its natural resources—wasdwindling rapidly. Still, Skkiru thought, as he moodily munched on thechocolate, it would have been better to flicker out on their own thanto descend to a subterfuge like this for nothing more than survival.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How does the presence of the hanged human body contribute to the plot of THE HANGING STRANGER?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What are the defining traits of the extraterrestrial flies in THE HANGING STRANGER? [SEP] <s>They kept a tape recorder going all the time he talked. When he hadfinished the Commissioner snapped off the recorder and got to his feet.He stood for a moment, deep in thought. Finally he got out hiscigarettes and lit up slowly, a frown on his beefy face.     You don't believe me, Loyce said.     The Commissioner offered him a cigarette. Loyce pushed it impatientlyaway. Suit yourself. The Commissioner moved over to the window andstood for a time looking out at the town of Oak Grove. I believe you,he said abruptly.     Loyce sagged. Thank God.     So you got away. The Commissioner shook his head. You were down inyour cellar instead of at work. A freak chance. One in a million.     Loyce sipped some of the black coffee they had brought him. I have atheory, he murmured.     What is it?     About them. Who they are. They take over one area at a time. Startingat the top—the highest level of authority. Working down from there in awidening circle. When they're firmly in control they go on to the nexttown. They spread, slowly, very gradually. I think it's been going onfor a long time.     A long time?     Thousands of years. I don't think it's new.     Why do you say that?     When I was a kid.... A picture they showed us in Bible League. Areligious picture—an old print. The enemy gods, defeated by Jehovah.Moloch, Beelzebub, Moab, Baalin, Ashtaroth—     So?     They were all represented by figures. Loyce looked up at theCommissioner. Beelzebub was represented as—a giant fly.     The Commissioner grunted. An old struggle.     They've been defeated. The Bible is an account of their defeats. Theymake gains—but finally they're defeated.     Why defeated?     They can't get everyone. They didn't get me. And they never got theHebrews. The Hebrews carried the message to the whole world. Therealization of the danger. The two men on the bus. I think theyunderstood. Had escaped, like I did. He clenched his fists. I killedone of them. I made a mistake. I was afraid to take a chance.     The Commissioner nodded. Yes, they undoubtedly had escaped, as you did.Freak accidents. But the rest of the town was firmly in control. Heturned from the window. Well, Mr. Loyce. You seem to have figuredeverything out.     Not everything. The hanging man. The dead man hanging from thelamppost. I don't understand that.      Why?     Why did they deliberately hanghim there?     That would seem simple. The Commissioner smiled faintly.       Bait.          Loyce stiffened. His heart stopped beating. Bait? What do you mean?     To draw you out. Make you declare yourself. So they'd know who wasunder control—and who had escaped.     Loyce recoiled with horror. Then they      expected     failures! Theyanticipated— He broke off. They were ready with a trap.     And you showed yourself. You reacted. You made yourself known. TheCommissioner abruptly moved toward the door. Come along, Loyce. There'sa lot to do. We must get moving. There's no time to waste.     Loyce started slowly to his feet, numbed. And the man.      Who was theman?     I never saw him before. He wasn't a local man. He was a stranger.All muddy and dirty, his face cut, slashed—     There was a strange look on the Commissioner's face as he answered.Maybe, he said softly, you'll understand that, too. Come along withme, Mr. Loyce. He held the door open, his eyes gleaming. Loyce caught aglimpse of the street in front of the police station. Policemen, aplatform of some sort. A telephone pole—and a rope! Right this way,the Commissioner said, smiling coldly.  <doc-sep>For more than a century, robotocists have been trying to build Asimov'sfamous Three Laws of Robotics into a robot brain.       First Law: A robot shall not, either through action or inaction, allowharm to come to a human being.         Second Law: A robot shall obey the orders of a human being, exceptwhen such orders conflict with the First Law     .     [15]       Third Law: A robot shall strive to protect its own existence, exceptwhen this conflicts with the First or Second Law.       Nobody has succeeded yet, because nobody has yet succeeded in definingthe term human being in such a way that the logical mind of a robotcan encompass the concept.     A traffic robot is useful only because the definition has been rigidlynarrowed down. As far as a traffic robot is concerned, human beingsare the automobiles on its highways. Woe betide any poor sap who tries,illegally, to cross a robot-controlled highway on foot. The robot'sonly concern would be with the safety of the automobiles, and if theonly way to avoid destruction of an automobile were to be by nudgingthe pedestrian aside with a fender, that's what would happen.     And, since its orders only come from one place, I suppose that atraffic robot thinks that the guy who uses that typer is an automobile.     With the first six models of the McGuire ships, the robotocistsattempted to build in the Three Laws exactly as stated. And the firstsix went insane.     If one human being says jump left, and another says jump right,the robot is unable to evaluate which human being has given the morevalid order. Feed enough confusing and conflicting data into a robotbrain, and it can begin behaving in ways that, in a human being, wouldbe called paranoia or schizophrenia or catatonia or what-have-you,depending  [16]  on the symptoms. And an insane robot is fully as dangerousas an insane human being controlling the same mechanical equipment, ifnot more so.     So the seventh model had been modified. The present McGuire's brain wasimpressed with slight modifications of the First and Second Laws.     If it is difficult to define a human being, it is much more difficultto define a      responsible     human being. One, in other words, who canbe relied upon to give wise and proper orders to a robot, who can berelied upon not to drive the robot insane.     The robotocists at Viking Spacecraft had decided to take anothertack. Very well, they'd said, if we can't define all the membersof a group, we can certainly define an individual. We'll pick oneresponsible person and build McGuire so that he will take orders onlyfrom that person.     As it turned out, I was that person. Just substitute Daniel Oakfor human being in the First and Second Laws, and you'll see howimportant I was to a certain spaceship named McGuire.  <doc-sep>Playing the game was fabulously expensive; it had to be to make itprofitable for the Vinzz to run it. Those odd creatures from Altair'sseventh planet cared nothing for the welfare of the completely alienhuman beings; all they wanted was to feather their own pockets withinterstellar credits, so that they could return to Vinau and buy manyslaves. For, on Vinau, bodies were of little account, and so to themzarquil was the equivalent of the terrestrial game musical chairs.Which was why they came to Terra to make profits—there has never beenbig money in musical chairs as such.     When the zarquil operators were apprehended, which was not frequent—asthey had strange powers, which, not being definable, were beyond thelaw—they suffered their sentences with equanimity. No Earth courtcould give an effective prison sentence to a creature whose lifespanned approximately two thousand terrestrial years. And capitalpunishment had become obsolete on Terra, which very possibly saved theterrestrials embarrassment, for it was not certain that their weaponscould kill the Vinzz ... or whether, in fact, the Vinzz merely expiredafter a period of years out of sheer boredom. Fortunately, becausetrade was more profitable than war, there had always been peace betweenVinau and Terra, and, for that reason, Terra could not bar the entranceof apparently respectable citizens of a friendly planet.     The taxi driver took the fat man to one of the rather seedy locales inwhich the zarquil games were usually found, for the Vinzz attempted toconduct their operations with as much unobtrusiveness as was possible.But the front door swung open on an interior that lacked the opulenceof the usual Vinoz set-up; it was down-right shabby, the dim olivelight hinting of squalor rather than forbidden pleasures. That wasthe trouble in these smaller towns—you ran greater risks of gettinginvolved in games where the players had not been carefully screened.     The Vinoz games were usually clean, because that paid off better, but,when profits were lacking, the Vinzz were capable of sliding off intodarkside practices. Naturally the small-town houses were more likely tohave trouble in making ends meet, because everybody in the parish kneweverybody else far too well.     The fat man wondered whether that had been his quarry's motive incoming to such desolate, off-trail places—hoping that eventuallydisaster would hit the one who pursued him. Somehow, such a plan seemedtoo logical for the man he was haunting.     However, beggars could not be choosers. The fat man paid off theheli-driver and entered the zarquil house. One? the small greencreature in the slightly frayed robe asked.     One, the fat man answered.      III     The would-be thief fled down the dark alley, with the hot bright raysfrom the stranger's gun lancing out after him in flamboyant but futilepatterns. The stranger, a thin young man with delicate, angularfeatures, made no attempt to follow. Instead, he bent over to examineGabriel Lockard's form, appropriately outstretched in the gutter. Onlyweighted out, he muttered, he'll be all right. Whatever possessed youtwo to come out to a place like this?     I really think Gabriel      must     be possessed.... the girl said, mostlyto herself. I had no idea of the kind of place it was going to beuntil he brought me here. The others were bad, but this is even worse.It almost seems as if he went around looking for trouble, doesn't it?     It does indeed, the stranger agreed, coughing a little. It wasgrowing colder and, on this world, the cities had no domes to protectthem from the climate, because it was Earth and the air was breathableand it wasn't worth the trouble of fixing up.     The girl looked closely at him. You look different, but you      are     thesame man who pulled us out of that aircar crash, aren't you? And beforethat the man in the gray suit? And before that...?     The young man's cheekbones protruded as he smiled. Yes, I'm all ofthem.     Then what they say about the zarquil games is true? There are peoplewho go around changing their bodies like—like hats? Automatically shereached to adjust the expensive bit of blue synthetic on her moon-palehair, for she was always conscious of her appearance; if she had notbeen so before marriage, Gabriel would have taught her that.  <doc-sep>  He  took a walk.     The town was just comingto life. People were strollingout of their houses, commentingon the weather, chucklingamiably about local affairs.Kids on bicycles were beginningto appear, jangling thelittle bells and hooting toeach other. A woman, hangingwash in the back yard,called out to him, thinkinghe was somebody else.     He found a little park, nomore than twenty yards incircumference, centeredaround a weatherbeaten monumentof some unrecognizablemilitary figure. Threeold men took their places onthe bench that circled theGeneral, and leaned on theircanes.     Sol was a civil engineer.But he made like a reporter.     Pardon me, sir. The oldman, leathery-faced, with afine yellow moustache, lookedat him dumbly. Have youever heard of Armagon?     You a stranger?     Yes.     Thought so.     Sol repeated the question.     Course I did. Been goin'there ever since I was a kid.Night-times, that is.     How—I mean, what kindof place is it?     Said you're a stranger?     Yes.     Then 'tain't your business.     That was that.     He left the park, and wanderedinto a thriving luncheonette.He tried questioningthe man behind the counter,who merely snickered andsaid: You stayin' with theDawes, ain't you? Better askWillie, then. He knows theplace better than anybody.     He asked about the execution,and the man stiffened.     Don't think I can talkabout that. Fella broke one ofthe Laws; that's about it.Don't see where you comeinto it.     At eleven o'clock, he returnedto the Dawes residence,and found Mom in thekitchen, surrounded by thewarm nostalgic odor of home-bakedbread. She told himthat her husband had left amessage for the stranger, informinghim that the StatePolice would be around to gethis story.     He waited in the house,gloomily turning the pages ofthe local newspaper, searchingfor references to Armagon.He found nothing.     At eleven-thirty, a brown-facedState Trooper came tocall, and Sol told his story.He was promised nothing,and told to stay in town untilhe was contacted again bythe authorities.     Mom fixed him a lightlunch, the greatest feature ofwhich was some hot biscuitsshe plucked out of the oven.It made him feel almost normal.     He wandered around thetown some more after lunch,trying to spark conversationwith the residents.     He learned little. <doc-sep>   THE HANGING STRANGER     BY PHILIP K. DICK     ILLUSTRATED BY SMITH     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Science FictionAdventures Magazine December 1953. Extensive research did not uncoverany evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]     Ed had always been a practical man, when he saw something waswrong he tried to correct it. Then one day he saw    it   hanging in thetown square.    Five o'clock Ed Loyce washed up, tossed on his hat and coat, got his carout and headed across town toward his TV sales store. He was tired. Hisback and shoulders ached from digging dirt out of the basement andwheeling it into the back yard. But for a forty-year-old man he had doneokay. Janet could get a new vase with the money he had saved; and heliked the idea of repairing the foundations himself!     It was getting dark. The setting sun cast long rays over the scurryingcommuters, tired and grim-faced, women loaded down with bundles andpackages, students swarming home from the university, mixing with clerksand businessmen and drab secretaries. He stopped his Packard for a redlight and then started it up again. The store had been open without him;he'd arrive just in time to spell the help for dinner, go over therecords of the day, maybe even close a couple of sales himself. He droveslowly past the small square of green in the center of the street, thetown park. There were no parking places in front of LOYCE TV SALES ANDSERVICE. He cursed under his breath and swung the car in a U-turn. Againhe passed the little square of green with its lonely drinking fountainand bench and single lamppost.     From the lamppost something was hanging. A shapeless dark bundle,swinging a little with the wind. Like a dummy of some sort. Loyce rolleddown his window and peered out. What the hell was it? A display ofsome kind? Sometimes the Chamber of Commerce put up displays in thesquare.     Again he made a U-turn and brought his car around. He passed the parkand concentrated on the dark bundle. It wasn't a dummy. And if it was adisplay it was a strange kind. The hackles on his neck rose and heswallowed uneasily. Sweat slid out on his face and hands.     It was a body. A human body.  <doc-sep>III     Oh, yes, and Jamieson had a feeble paper on what he calledindividualization in marine worms. Barr, have you ever thought muchabout the larger aspects of the problem of individuality?     Jack jumped slightly. He had let his thoughts wander very far.     Not especially, sir, he mumbled.     The house was still. A few minutes after the professor's arrival,Mrs. Kesserich had gone off with an anxious glance at Jack. He knewwhy and wished he could reassure her that he would not mention theirconversation to the professor.     Kesserich had spent perhaps a half hour briefing him on the moreimportant papers delivered at the conferences. Then, almost as ifit were a teacher's trick to show up a pupil's inattention, he hadsuddenly posed this question about individuality.     You know what I mean, of course, Kesserich pressed. The factors thatmake you you, and me me.     Heredity and environment, Jack parroted like a freshman.     Kesserich nodded. Suppose—this is just speculation—that we couldcontrol heredity and environment. Then we could re-create the sameindividual at will.     Jack felt a shiver go through him. To get exactly the same pattern ofhereditary traits. That'd be far beyond us.     What about identical twins? Kesserich pointed out. And then there'sparthenogenesis to be considered. One might produce a duplicate of themother without the intervention of the male. Although his voice hadgrown more idly speculative, Kesserich seemed to Jack to be smilingsecretly. There are many examples in the lower animal forms, to saynothing of the technique by which Loeb caused a sea urchin to reproducewith no more stimulus than a salt solution.     Jack felt the hair rising on his neck. Even then you wouldn't getexactly the same pattern of hereditary traits.     Not if the parent were of very pure stock? Not if there were somespecial technique for selecting ova that would reproduce all themother's traits?     But environment would change things, Jack objected. The duplicatewould be bound to develop differently.     Is environment so important? Newman tells about a pair of identicaltwins separated from birth, unaware of each other's existence. They metby accident when they were twenty-one. Each was a telephone repairman.Each had a wife the same age. Each had a baby son. And each had a foxterrier called 'Trixie.' That's without trying to make environmentssimilar. But suppose you did try. Suppose you saw to it that each ofthem had exactly the same experiences at the same times....     For a moment it seemed to Jack that the room was dimming and wavering,becoming a dark pool in which the only motionless thing was Kesserich'ssphinx-like face.     Well, we've escaped quite far enough from Jamieson's marine worms,the biologist said, all brisk again. He said it as if Jack were theone who had led the conversation down wild and unprofitable channels.Let's get on to your project. I want to talk it over now, because Iwon't have any time for it tomorrow.     Jack looked at him blankly.     Tomorrow I must attend to a very important matter, the biologistexplained.  <doc-sep>Once the illuminators were extinguished in Gabriel Lockard's hotelsuite, it seemed reasonably certain to the man in the gray suit, ashe watched from the street, that his quarry would not go out againthat night. So he went to the nearest airstation. There he inserted acoin in a locker, into which he put most of his personal possessions,reserving only a sum of money. After setting the locker to respond tothe letter combination      bodyguard     , he went out into the street.     If he had met with a fatal accident at that point, there would havebeen nothing on his body to identify him. As a matter of fact, no realidentification was possible, for he was no one and had been no one foryears.     The nondescript man hailed a cruising helicab. Where to, fellow-man?the driver asked.     I'm new in the parish, the other man replied and let it hang there.     Oh...? Females...? Narcophagi...? Thrill-mills?     But to each of these questions the nondescript man shook his head.     Games? the driver finally asked, although he could guess what waswanted by then. Dice...? Roulette...? Farjeen?     Is there a good zarquil game in town?     The driver moved so he could see the face of the man behind him in theteleview. A very ordinary face. Look, colleague, why don't you commitsuicide? It's cleaner and quicker.     I can't contact your attitude, the passenger said with a thinsmile. Bet you've never tried the game yourself. Each time ithappens, there's a ... well, there's no experience to match it at athrill-mill. He gave a sigh that was almost an audible shudder, andwhich the driver misinterpreted as an expression of ecstasy.     Each time, eh? You're a dutchman then? The driver spat out of thewindow. If it wasn't for the nibble, I'd throw you right out of thecab. Without even bothering to take it down even. I hate dutchmen ...anybody with any legitimate feelings hates 'em.     But it would be silly to let personal prejudice stand in the way of acommission, wouldn't it? the other man asked coolly.     Of course. You'll need plenty of foliage, though.     I have sufficient funds. I also have a gun.     You're the dictator, the driver agreed sullenly.      II     It was a dark and rainy night in early fall. Gabe Lockard was in nocondition to drive the helicar. However, he was stubborn.     Let me take the controls, honey, the light-haired girl urged, but heshook his handsome head.     Show you I can do something 'sides look pretty, he said thickly,referring to an earlier and not amicable conversation they had held,and of which she still bore the reminder on one thickly made-up cheek.     Fortunately the car was flying low, contrary to regulations, so thatwhen they smashed into the beacon tower on the outskirts of the littletown, they didn't have far to fall. And hardly had their car crashedon the ground when the car that had been following them landed, and ashort fat man was puffing toward them through the mist.     To the girl's indignation, the stranger not only hauled Gabe out ontothe dripping grass first, but stopped and deliberately examined theyoung man by the light of his minilume, almost as if she weren't thereat all. Only when she started to struggle out by herself did he seem toremember her existence. He pulled her away from the wreck just a momentbefore the fuel tank exploded and the 'copter went up in flames.     Gabe opened his eyes and saw the fat man gazing down at himspeculatively. My guardian angel, he mumbled—shock had sobered hima little, but not enough. He sat up. Guess I'm not hurt or you'd havethrown me back in.     And that's no joke, the fat man agreed.     The girl shivered and at that moment Gabriel suddenly seemed to recallthat he had not been alone. How about Helen? She on course?     Seems to be, the fat man said. You all right, miss? he asked,glancing toward the girl without, she thought, much apparent concern.           Mrs.     , Gabriel corrected. Allow me to introduce you to Mrs. GabrielLockard, he said, bowing from his seated position toward the girl.Pretty bauble, isn't she?     I'm delighted to meet you, Mrs. Gabriel Lockard, the fat man said,looking at her intently. His small eyes seemed to strip the make-upfrom her cheek and examine the livid bruise underneath. I hopeyou'll be worthy of the name. The light given off by the flamingcar flickered on his face and Gabriel's and, she supposed, hers too.Otherwise, darkness surrounded the three of them.     There were no public illuminators this far out—even in town thelights were dimming and not being replaced fast enough nor by thenewer models. The town, the civilization, the planet all were old andbeginning to slide downhill....     Gabe gave a short laugh, for no reason that she could see.  <doc-sep>Look at it! Loyce snapped. Come on out here!     Don Fergusson came slowly out of the store, buttoning his pin-stripecoat with dignity. This is a big deal, Ed. I can't just leave the guystanding there.     See it? Ed pointed into the gathering gloom. The lamppost jutted upagainst the sky—the post and the bundle swinging from it. There it is.How the hell long has it been there? His voice rose excitedly. What'swrong with everybody? They just walk on past!     Don Fergusson lit a cigarette slowly. Take it easy, old man. There mustbe a good reason, or it wouldn't be there.     A reason! What kind of a reason?     Fergusson shrugged. Like the time the Traffic Safety Council put thatwrecked Buick there. Some sort of civic thing. How would I know?     Jack Potter from the shoe shop joined them. What's up, boys?     There's a body hanging from the lamppost, Loyce said. I'm going tocall the cops.     They must know about it, Potter said. Or otherwise it wouldn't bethere.     I got to get back in. Fergusson headed back into the store. Businessbefore pleasure.     Loyce began to get hysterical. You see it? You see it hanging there? Aman's body! A dead man!     Sure, Ed. I saw it this afternoon when I went out for coffee.     You mean it's been there all afternoon?     Sure. What's the matter? Potter glanced at his watch. Have to run.See you later, Ed.     Potter hurried off, joining the flow of people moving along thesidewalk. Men and women, passing by the park. A few glanced up curiouslyat the dark bundle—and then went on. Nobody stopped. Nobody paid anyattention.     I'm going nuts, Loyce whispered. He made his way to the curb andcrossed out into traffic, among the cars. Horns honked angrily at him.He gained the curb and stepped up onto the little square of green.     The man had been middle-aged. His clothing was ripped and torn, a graysuit, splashed and caked with dried mud. A stranger. Loyce had neverseen him before. Not a local man. His face was partly turned, away, andin the evening wind he spun a little, turning gently, silently. His skinwas gouged and cut. Red gashes, deep scratches of congealed blood. Apair of steel-rimmed glasses hung from one ear, dangling foolishly. Hiseyes bulged. His mouth was open, tongue thick and ugly blue.     For Heaven's sake, Loyce muttered, sickened. He pushed down his nauseaand made his way back to the sidewalk. He was shaking all over, withrevulsion—and fear.       Why?     Who was the man? Why was he hanging there? What did it mean?     And—why didn't anybody notice?     He bumped into a small man hurrying along the sidewalk. Watch it! theman grated, Oh, it's you, Ed.     Ed nodded dazedly. Hello, Jenkins.     What's the matter? The stationery clerk caught Ed's arm. You looksick.     The body. There in the park.     Sure, Ed. Jenkins led him into the alcove of LOYCE TV SALES ANDSERVICE. Take it easy.     Margaret Henderson from the jewelry store joined them. Somethingwrong?     Ed's not feeling well.     Loyce yanked himself free. How can you stand here? Don't you see it?For God's sake—     What's he talking about? Margaret asked nervously.     The body! Ed shouted. The body hanging there!     More people collected. Is he sick? It's Ed Loyce. You okay, Ed?     The body! Loyce screamed, struggling to get past them. Hands caught athim. He tore loose. Let me go! The police! Get the police!     Ed—     Better get a doctor!     He must be sick.     Or drunk.     Loyce fought his way through the people. He stumbled and half fell.Through a blur he saw rows of faces, curious, concerned, anxious. Menand women halting to see what the disturbance was. He fought past themtoward his store. He could see Fergusson inside talking to a man,showing him an Emerson TV set. Pete Foley in the back at the servicecounter, setting up a new Philco. Loyce shouted at them frantically.His voice was lost in the roar of traffic and the murmur around him.     Do something! he screamed. Don't stand there! Do something!Something's wrong! Something's happened! Things are going on!     The crowd melted respectfully for the two heavy-set cops movingefficiently toward Loyce.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What are the defining traits of the extraterrestrial flies in THE HANGING STRANGER?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you tell me where the story of THE HANGING STRANGER takes place? [SEP] <s>  He  took a walk.     The town was just comingto life. People were strollingout of their houses, commentingon the weather, chucklingamiably about local affairs.Kids on bicycles were beginningto appear, jangling thelittle bells and hooting toeach other. A woman, hangingwash in the back yard,called out to him, thinkinghe was somebody else.     He found a little park, nomore than twenty yards incircumference, centeredaround a weatherbeaten monumentof some unrecognizablemilitary figure. Threeold men took their places onthe bench that circled theGeneral, and leaned on theircanes.     Sol was a civil engineer.But he made like a reporter.     Pardon me, sir. The oldman, leathery-faced, with afine yellow moustache, lookedat him dumbly. Have youever heard of Armagon?     You a stranger?     Yes.     Thought so.     Sol repeated the question.     Course I did. Been goin'there ever since I was a kid.Night-times, that is.     How—I mean, what kindof place is it?     Said you're a stranger?     Yes.     Then 'tain't your business.     That was that.     He left the park, and wanderedinto a thriving luncheonette.He tried questioningthe man behind the counter,who merely snickered andsaid: You stayin' with theDawes, ain't you? Better askWillie, then. He knows theplace better than anybody.     He asked about the execution,and the man stiffened.     Don't think I can talkabout that. Fella broke one ofthe Laws; that's about it.Don't see where you comeinto it.     At eleven o'clock, he returnedto the Dawes residence,and found Mom in thekitchen, surrounded by thewarm nostalgic odor of home-bakedbread. She told himthat her husband had left amessage for the stranger, informinghim that the StatePolice would be around to gethis story.     He waited in the house,gloomily turning the pages ofthe local newspaper, searchingfor references to Armagon.He found nothing.     At eleven-thirty, a brown-facedState Trooper came tocall, and Sol told his story.He was promised nothing,and told to stay in town untilhe was contacted again bythe authorities.     Mom fixed him a lightlunch, the greatest feature ofwhich was some hot biscuitsshe plucked out of the oven.It made him feel almost normal.     He wandered around thetown some more after lunch,trying to spark conversationwith the residents.     He learned little. <doc-sep>   THE HANGING STRANGER     BY PHILIP K. DICK     ILLUSTRATED BY SMITH     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Science FictionAdventures Magazine December 1953. Extensive research did not uncoverany evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]     Ed had always been a practical man, when he saw something waswrong he tried to correct it. Then one day he saw    it   hanging in thetown square.    Five o'clock Ed Loyce washed up, tossed on his hat and coat, got his carout and headed across town toward his TV sales store. He was tired. Hisback and shoulders ached from digging dirt out of the basement andwheeling it into the back yard. But for a forty-year-old man he had doneokay. Janet could get a new vase with the money he had saved; and heliked the idea of repairing the foundations himself!     It was getting dark. The setting sun cast long rays over the scurryingcommuters, tired and grim-faced, women loaded down with bundles andpackages, students swarming home from the university, mixing with clerksand businessmen and drab secretaries. He stopped his Packard for a redlight and then started it up again. The store had been open without him;he'd arrive just in time to spell the help for dinner, go over therecords of the day, maybe even close a couple of sales himself. He droveslowly past the small square of green in the center of the street, thetown park. There were no parking places in front of LOYCE TV SALES ANDSERVICE. He cursed under his breath and swung the car in a U-turn. Againhe passed the little square of green with its lonely drinking fountainand bench and single lamppost.     From the lamppost something was hanging. A shapeless dark bundle,swinging a little with the wind. Like a dummy of some sort. Loyce rolleddown his window and peered out. What the hell was it? A display ofsome kind? Sometimes the Chamber of Commerce put up displays in thesquare.     Again he made a U-turn and brought his car around. He passed the parkand concentrated on the dark bundle. It wasn't a dummy. And if it was adisplay it was a strange kind. The hackles on his neck rose and heswallowed uneasily. Sweat slid out on his face and hands.     It was a body. A human body.  <doc-sep>They kept a tape recorder going all the time he talked. When he hadfinished the Commissioner snapped off the recorder and got to his feet.He stood for a moment, deep in thought. Finally he got out hiscigarettes and lit up slowly, a frown on his beefy face.     You don't believe me, Loyce said.     The Commissioner offered him a cigarette. Loyce pushed it impatientlyaway. Suit yourself. The Commissioner moved over to the window andstood for a time looking out at the town of Oak Grove. I believe you,he said abruptly.     Loyce sagged. Thank God.     So you got away. The Commissioner shook his head. You were down inyour cellar instead of at work. A freak chance. One in a million.     Loyce sipped some of the black coffee they had brought him. I have atheory, he murmured.     What is it?     About them. Who they are. They take over one area at a time. Startingat the top—the highest level of authority. Working down from there in awidening circle. When they're firmly in control they go on to the nexttown. They spread, slowly, very gradually. I think it's been going onfor a long time.     A long time?     Thousands of years. I don't think it's new.     Why do you say that?     When I was a kid.... A picture they showed us in Bible League. Areligious picture—an old print. The enemy gods, defeated by Jehovah.Moloch, Beelzebub, Moab, Baalin, Ashtaroth—     So?     They were all represented by figures. Loyce looked up at theCommissioner. Beelzebub was represented as—a giant fly.     The Commissioner grunted. An old struggle.     They've been defeated. The Bible is an account of their defeats. Theymake gains—but finally they're defeated.     Why defeated?     They can't get everyone. They didn't get me. And they never got theHebrews. The Hebrews carried the message to the whole world. Therealization of the danger. The two men on the bus. I think theyunderstood. Had escaped, like I did. He clenched his fists. I killedone of them. I made a mistake. I was afraid to take a chance.     The Commissioner nodded. Yes, they undoubtedly had escaped, as you did.Freak accidents. But the rest of the town was firmly in control. Heturned from the window. Well, Mr. Loyce. You seem to have figuredeverything out.     Not everything. The hanging man. The dead man hanging from thelamppost. I don't understand that.      Why?     Why did they deliberately hanghim there?     That would seem simple. The Commissioner smiled faintly.       Bait.          Loyce stiffened. His heart stopped beating. Bait? What do you mean?     To draw you out. Make you declare yourself. So they'd know who wasunder control—and who had escaped.     Loyce recoiled with horror. Then they      expected     failures! Theyanticipated— He broke off. They were ready with a trap.     And you showed yourself. You reacted. You made yourself known. TheCommissioner abruptly moved toward the door. Come along, Loyce. There'sa lot to do. We must get moving. There's no time to waste.     Loyce started slowly to his feet, numbed. And the man.      Who was theman?     I never saw him before. He wasn't a local man. He was a stranger.All muddy and dirty, his face cut, slashed—     There was a strange look on the Commissioner's face as he answered.Maybe, he said softly, you'll understand that, too. Come along withme, Mr. Loyce. He held the door open, his eyes gleaming. Loyce caught aglimpse of the street in front of the police station. Policemen, aplatform of some sort. A telephone pole—and a rope! Right this way,the Commissioner said, smiling coldly.  <doc-sep>Look at it! Loyce snapped. Come on out here!     Don Fergusson came slowly out of the store, buttoning his pin-stripecoat with dignity. This is a big deal, Ed. I can't just leave the guystanding there.     See it? Ed pointed into the gathering gloom. The lamppost jutted upagainst the sky—the post and the bundle swinging from it. There it is.How the hell long has it been there? His voice rose excitedly. What'swrong with everybody? They just walk on past!     Don Fergusson lit a cigarette slowly. Take it easy, old man. There mustbe a good reason, or it wouldn't be there.     A reason! What kind of a reason?     Fergusson shrugged. Like the time the Traffic Safety Council put thatwrecked Buick there. Some sort of civic thing. How would I know?     Jack Potter from the shoe shop joined them. What's up, boys?     There's a body hanging from the lamppost, Loyce said. I'm going tocall the cops.     They must know about it, Potter said. Or otherwise it wouldn't bethere.     I got to get back in. Fergusson headed back into the store. Businessbefore pleasure.     Loyce began to get hysterical. You see it? You see it hanging there? Aman's body! A dead man!     Sure, Ed. I saw it this afternoon when I went out for coffee.     You mean it's been there all afternoon?     Sure. What's the matter? Potter glanced at his watch. Have to run.See you later, Ed.     Potter hurried off, joining the flow of people moving along thesidewalk. Men and women, passing by the park. A few glanced up curiouslyat the dark bundle—and then went on. Nobody stopped. Nobody paid anyattention.     I'm going nuts, Loyce whispered. He made his way to the curb andcrossed out into traffic, among the cars. Horns honked angrily at him.He gained the curb and stepped up onto the little square of green.     The man had been middle-aged. His clothing was ripped and torn, a graysuit, splashed and caked with dried mud. A stranger. Loyce had neverseen him before. Not a local man. His face was partly turned, away, andin the evening wind he spun a little, turning gently, silently. His skinwas gouged and cut. Red gashes, deep scratches of congealed blood. Apair of steel-rimmed glasses hung from one ear, dangling foolishly. Hiseyes bulged. His mouth was open, tongue thick and ugly blue.     For Heaven's sake, Loyce muttered, sickened. He pushed down his nauseaand made his way back to the sidewalk. He was shaking all over, withrevulsion—and fear.       Why?     Who was the man? Why was he hanging there? What did it mean?     And—why didn't anybody notice?     He bumped into a small man hurrying along the sidewalk. Watch it! theman grated, Oh, it's you, Ed.     Ed nodded dazedly. Hello, Jenkins.     What's the matter? The stationery clerk caught Ed's arm. You looksick.     The body. There in the park.     Sure, Ed. Jenkins led him into the alcove of LOYCE TV SALES ANDSERVICE. Take it easy.     Margaret Henderson from the jewelry store joined them. Somethingwrong?     Ed's not feeling well.     Loyce yanked himself free. How can you stand here? Don't you see it?For God's sake—     What's he talking about? Margaret asked nervously.     The body! Ed shouted. The body hanging there!     More people collected. Is he sick? It's Ed Loyce. You okay, Ed?     The body! Loyce screamed, struggling to get past them. Hands caught athim. He tore loose. Let me go! The police! Get the police!     Ed—     Better get a doctor!     He must be sick.     Or drunk.     Loyce fought his way through the people. He stumbled and half fell.Through a blur he saw rows of faces, curious, concerned, anxious. Menand women halting to see what the disturbance was. He fought past themtoward his store. He could see Fergusson inside talking to a man,showing him an Emerson TV set. Pete Foley in the back at the servicecounter, setting up a new Philco. Loyce shouted at them frantically.His voice was lost in the roar of traffic and the murmur around him.     Do something! he screamed. Don't stand there! Do something!Something's wrong! Something's happened! Things are going on!     The crowd melted respectfully for the two heavy-set cops movingefficiently toward Loyce.  <doc-sep>Coughing, Retief disengaged himself from the shock-webbing. He beatout sparks in his lap, groped underfoot for the hatch and wrenched itopen. A wave of hot jungle air struck him. He lowered himself to a bedof shattered foliage, got to his feet ... and dropped flat as a bulletwhined past his ear.     He lay listening. Stealthy movements were audible from the left.     He inched his way to the shelter of a broad-boled dwarf tree. Somewherea song lizard burbled. Whining insects circled, scented alien life,buzzed off. There was another rustle of foliage from the underbrushfive yards away. A bush quivered, then a low bough dipped.     Retief edged back around the trunk, eased down behind a fallen log.A stocky man in grimy leather shirt and shorts appeared, movingcautiously, a pistol in his hand.     As he passed, Retief rose, leaped the log and tackled him.     They went down together. The stranger gave one short yell, thenstruggled in silence. Retief flipped him onto his back, raised a fist—     Hey! the settler yelled. You're as human as I am!     Maybe I'll look better after a shave, said Retief. What's the ideaof shooting at me?     Lemme up. My name's Potter. Sorry 'bout that. I figured it was aFlap-jack boat; looks just like 'em. I took a shot when I saw somethingmove. Didn't know it was a Terrestrial. Who are you? What you doin'here? We're pretty close to the edge of the oases. That's Flap-jackcountry over there. He waved a hand toward the north, where the desertlay.     I'm glad you're a poor shot. That missile was too close for comfort.     Missile, eh? Must be Flap-jack artillery. We got nothing like that.     I heard there was a full-fledged war brewing, said Retief. I didn'texpect—     Good! Potter said. We figured a few of you boys from Ivory would bejoining up when you heard. You are from Ivory?     Yes. I'm—     Hey, you must be Lemuel's cousin. Good night! I pretty near made a badmistake. Lemuel's a tough man to explain something to.     I'm—     Keep your head down. These damn Flap-jacks have got some wicked handweapons. Come on.... He moved off silently on all fours. Retieffollowed. They crossed two hundred yards of rough country before Pottergot to his feet, took out a soggy bandana and mopped his face.     You move good for a city man. I thought you folks on Ivory just satunder those domes and read dials. But I guess bein' Lemuel's cousin youwas raised different.     As a matter of fact—     Have to get you some real clothes, though. Those city duds don't standup on 'Dobe.     Retief looked down at the charred, torn and sweat-soaked powder-blueblazer and slacks.     This outfit seemed pretty rough-and-ready back home, he said. But Iguess leather has its points.     Let's get on back to camp. We'll just about make it by sundown.And, look. Don't say anything to Lemuel about me thinking you were aFlap-jack.     I won't, but—     Potter was on his way, loping off up a gentle slope. Retief pulled offthe sodden blazer, dropped it over a bush, added his string tie andfollowed Potter.      II     We're damn glad you're here, mister, said a fat man with tworevolvers belted across his paunch. We can use every hand. We're inbad shape. We ran into the Flap-jacks three months ago and we haven'tmade a smart move since. First, we thought they were a native form wehadn't run into before. Fact is, one of the boys shot one, thinkin' itwas fair game. I guess that was the start of it. He stirred the fire,added a stick.     And then a bunch of 'em hit Swazey's farm here, Potter said. Killedtwo of his cattle, and pulled back.     I figure they thought the cows were people, said Swazey. They wereout for revenge.     How could anybody think a cow was folks? another man put in. Theydon't look nothin' like—     Don't be so dumb, Bert, said Swazey. They'd never seen Terriesbefore. They know better now.     Bert chuckled. Sure do. We showed 'em the next time, didn't we,Potter? Got four.     They walked right up to my place a couple days after the first time,Swazey said. We were ready for 'em. Peppered 'em good. They cut andrun.     Flopped, you mean. Ugliest lookin' critters you ever saw. Look justlike a old piece of dirty blanket humpin' around.     It's been goin' on this way ever since. They raid and then we raid.But lately they've been bringing some big stuff into it. They've gotsome kind of pint-sized airships and automatic rifles. We've lost fourmen now and a dozen more in the freezer, waiting for the med ship. Wecan't afford it. The colony's got less than three hundred able-bodiedmen.     But we're hanging onto our farms, said Potter. All these oases areold sea-beds—a mile deep, solid topsoil. And there's a couple ofhundred others we haven't touched yet. The Flap-jacks won't get 'emwhile there's a man alive.     The whole system needs the food we can raise, Bert said. These farmswe're trying to start won't be enough but they'll help.     We been yellin' for help to the CDT, over on Ivory, said Potter. Butyou know these Embassy stooges.     We heard they were sending some kind of bureaucrat in here to tellus to get out and give the oases to the Flap-jacks, said Swazey. Hetightened his mouth. We're waitin' for him....     Meanwhile we got reinforcements comin' up, eh, boys? Bert winked atRetief. We put out the word back home. We all got relatives on Ivoryand Verde.     Shut up, you damn fool! a deep voice grated.     Lemuel! Potter said. Nobody else could sneak up on us like that.     If I'd a been a Flap-jack; I'd of et you alive, the newcomer said,moving into the ring of fire, a tall, broad-faced man in grimy leather.He eyed Retief.     Who's that?     What do ya mean? Potter spoke in the silence. He's your cousin....     He ain't no cousin of mine, Lemuel said slowly. He stepped to Retief.     Who you spyin' for, stranger? he rasped.  <doc-sep>Playing the game was fabulously expensive; it had to be to make itprofitable for the Vinzz to run it. Those odd creatures from Altair'sseventh planet cared nothing for the welfare of the completely alienhuman beings; all they wanted was to feather their own pockets withinterstellar credits, so that they could return to Vinau and buy manyslaves. For, on Vinau, bodies were of little account, and so to themzarquil was the equivalent of the terrestrial game musical chairs.Which was why they came to Terra to make profits—there has never beenbig money in musical chairs as such.     When the zarquil operators were apprehended, which was not frequent—asthey had strange powers, which, not being definable, were beyond thelaw—they suffered their sentences with equanimity. No Earth courtcould give an effective prison sentence to a creature whose lifespanned approximately two thousand terrestrial years. And capitalpunishment had become obsolete on Terra, which very possibly saved theterrestrials embarrassment, for it was not certain that their weaponscould kill the Vinzz ... or whether, in fact, the Vinzz merely expiredafter a period of years out of sheer boredom. Fortunately, becausetrade was more profitable than war, there had always been peace betweenVinau and Terra, and, for that reason, Terra could not bar the entranceof apparently respectable citizens of a friendly planet.     The taxi driver took the fat man to one of the rather seedy locales inwhich the zarquil games were usually found, for the Vinzz attempted toconduct their operations with as much unobtrusiveness as was possible.But the front door swung open on an interior that lacked the opulenceof the usual Vinoz set-up; it was down-right shabby, the dim olivelight hinting of squalor rather than forbidden pleasures. That wasthe trouble in these smaller towns—you ran greater risks of gettinginvolved in games where the players had not been carefully screened.     The Vinoz games were usually clean, because that paid off better, but,when profits were lacking, the Vinzz were capable of sliding off intodarkside practices. Naturally the small-town houses were more likely tohave trouble in making ends meet, because everybody in the parish kneweverybody else far too well.     The fat man wondered whether that had been his quarry's motive incoming to such desolate, off-trail places—hoping that eventuallydisaster would hit the one who pursued him. Somehow, such a plan seemedtoo logical for the man he was haunting.     However, beggars could not be choosers. The fat man paid off theheli-driver and entered the zarquil house. One? the small greencreature in the slightly frayed robe asked.     One, the fat man answered.      III     The would-be thief fled down the dark alley, with the hot bright raysfrom the stranger's gun lancing out after him in flamboyant but futilepatterns. The stranger, a thin young man with delicate, angularfeatures, made no attempt to follow. Instead, he bent over to examineGabriel Lockard's form, appropriately outstretched in the gutter. Onlyweighted out, he muttered, he'll be all right. Whatever possessed youtwo to come out to a place like this?     I really think Gabriel      must     be possessed.... the girl said, mostlyto herself. I had no idea of the kind of place it was going to beuntil he brought me here. The others were bad, but this is even worse.It almost seems as if he went around looking for trouble, doesn't it?     It does indeed, the stranger agreed, coughing a little. It wasgrowing colder and, on this world, the cities had no domes to protectthem from the climate, because it was Earth and the air was breathableand it wasn't worth the trouble of fixing up.     The girl looked closely at him. You look different, but you      are     thesame man who pulled us out of that aircar crash, aren't you? And beforethat the man in the gray suit? And before that...?     The young man's cheekbones protruded as he smiled. Yes, I'm all ofthem.     Then what they say about the zarquil games is true? There are peoplewho go around changing their bodies like—like hats? Automatically shereached to adjust the expensive bit of blue synthetic on her moon-palehair, for she was always conscious of her appearance; if she had notbeen so before marriage, Gabriel would have taught her that.  <doc-sep>Name? the cop with the notebook murmured.     Loyce. He mopped his forehead wearily. Edward C. Loyce. Listen to me.Back there—     Address? the cop demanded. The police car moved swiftly throughtraffic, shooting among the cars and buses. Loyce sagged against theseat, exhausted and confused. He took a deep shuddering breath.     1368 Hurst Road.     That's here in Pikeville?     That's right. Loyce pulled himself up with a violent effort. Listento me. Back there. In the square. Hanging from the lamppost—     Where were you today? the cop behind the wheel demanded.     Where? Loyce echoed.     You weren't in your shop, were you?     No. He shook his head. No, I was home. Down in the basement.     In the      basement     ?     Digging. A new foundation. Getting out the dirt to pour a cement frame.Why? What has that to do with—     Was anybody else down there with you?     No. My wife was downtown. My kids were at school. Loyce looked fromone heavy-set cop to the other. Hope flicked across his face, wild hope.You mean because I was down there I missed—the explanation? I didn'tget in on it? Like everybody else?     After a pause the cop with the notebook said: That's right. You missedthe explanation.     Then it's official? The body—it's      supposed     to be hanging there?     It's supposed to be hanging there. For everybody to see.     Ed Loyce grinned weakly. Good Lord. I guess I sort of went off the deepend. I thought maybe something had happened. You know, something likethe Ku Klux Klan. Some kind of violence. Communists or Fascists takingover. He wiped his face with his breast-pocket handkerchief, his handsshaking. I'm glad to know it's on the level.     It's on the level. The police car was getting near the Hall ofJustice. The sun had set. The streets were gloomy and dark. The lightshad not yet come on.     I feel better, Loyce said. I was pretty excited there, for a minute.I guess I got all stirred up. Now that I understand, there's no need totake me in, is there?     The two cops said nothing.     I should be back at my store. The boys haven't had dinner. I'm allright, now. No more trouble. Is there any need of—     This won't take long, the cop behind the wheel interrupted. A shortprocess. Only a few minutes.     I hope it's short, Loyce muttered. The car slowed down for astoplight. I guess I sort of disturbed the peace. Funny, gettingexcited like that and—     Loyce yanked the door open. He sprawled out into the street and rolledto his feet. Cars were moving all around him, gaining speed as the lightchanged. Loyce leaped onto the curb and raced among the people,burrowing into the swarming crowds. Behind him he heard sounds, shouts,people running.     They weren't cops. He had realized that right away. He knew every cop inPikeville. A man couldn't own a store, operate a business in a smalltown for twenty-five years without getting to know all the cops.     They weren't cops—and there hadn't been any explanation. Potter,Fergusson, Jenkins, none of them knew why it was there. They didn'tknow—and they didn't care.      That     was the strange part.     Loyce ducked into a hardware store. He raced toward the back, past thestartled clerks and customers, into the shipping room and through theback door. He tripped over a garbage can and ran up a flight of concretesteps. He climbed over a fence and jumped down on the other side,gasping and panting.     There was no sound behind him. He had got away.     He was at the entrance of an alley, dark and strewn with boards andruined boxes and tires. He could see the street at the far end. A streetlight wavered and came on. Men and women. Stores. Neon signs. Cars.     And to his right—the police station.     He was close, terribly close. Past the loading platform of a grocerystore rose the white concrete side of the Hall of Justice. Barredwindows. The police antenna. A great concrete wall rising up in thedarkness. A bad place for him to be near. He was too close. He had tokeep moving, get farther away from them.       Them?       Loyce moved cautiously down the alley. Beyond the police station was theCity Hall, the old-fashioned yellow structure of wood and gilded brassand broad cement steps. He could see the endless rows of offices, darkwindows, the cedars and beds of flowers on each side of the entrance.     And—something else.     Above the City Hall was a patch of darkness, a cone of gloom denser thanthe surrounding night. A prism of black that spread out and was lostinto the sky.     He listened. Good God, he could hear something. Something that made himstruggle frantically to close his ears, his mind, to shut out the sound.A buzzing. A distant, muted hum like a great swarm of bees.     Loyce gazed up, rigid with horror. The splotch of darkness, hanging overthe City Hall. Darkness so thick it seemed almost solid.      In the vortexsomething moved.     Flickering shapes. Things, descending from the sky,pausing momentarily above the City Hall, fluttering over it in a denseswarm and then dropping silently onto the roof.     Shapes. Fluttering shapes from the sky. From the crack of darkness thathung above him.     He was seeing—them.  <doc-sep>  THE FIRST ONE     By HERBERT D. KASTLE     Illustrated by von Dongen     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Analog July 1961.Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyrighton this publication was renewed.]       The first man to return from beyond the Great Frontier may bewelcomed ... but will it be as a curiosity, rather than as ahero...?       There was the usual welcoming crowd for a celebrity, and the usualspeeches by the usual politicians who met him at the airport which hadonce been twenty miles outside of Croton, but which the growing city hadsince engulfed and placed well within its boundaries. But everythingwasn't usual. The crowd was quiet, and the mayor didn't seem quite asat-ease as he'd been on his last big welcoming—for Corporal Berringer,one of the crew of the spaceship      Washington     , first to set Americansupon Mars. His Honor's handclasp was somewhat moist and cold. HisHonor's eyes held a trace of remoteness.     Still, he was the honored home-comer, the successful returnee, thehometown boy who had made good in a big way, and they took the triumphaltour up Main Street to the new square and the grandstand. There he satbetween the mayor and a nervous young coed chosen as homecoming queen,and looked out at the police and fire department bands, the NationalGuard, the boy scouts and girl scouts, the Elks and Masons. Several ofthe churches in town had shown indecision as to how to instruct theirparishioners to treat him. But they had all come around. The tremendousnational interest, the fact that he was the First One, had made themcome around. It was obvious by now that they would have to adjust asthey'd adjusted to all the other firsts taking place in these—as thenewspapers had dubbed the start of the Twenty-first Century—theGalloping Twenties.     He was glad when the official greeting was over. He was a very tired manand he had come farther, traveled longer and over darker country, thanany man who'd ever lived before. He wanted a meal at his own table, akiss from his wife, a word from his son, and later to see some oldfriends and a relative or two. He didn't want to talk about the journey.He wanted to forget the immediacy, the urgency, the terror; then perhapshe would talk.     Or would he? For he had very little to tell. He had traveled and he hadreturned and his voyage was very much like the voyages of the greatmariners, from Columbus onward—long, dull periods of time passing,passing, and then the arrival.     The house had changed. He saw that as soon as the official car let himoff at 45 Roosevelt Street. The change was, he knew, for the better.They had put a porch in front. They had rehabilitated, spruced up,almost rebuilt the entire outside and grounds. But he was sorry. He hadwanted it to be as before.     The head of the American Legion and the chief of police, who hadescorted him on this trip from the square, didn't ask to go in with him.He was glad. He'd had enough of strangers. Not that he was through withstrangers. There were dozens of them up and down the street, standingbeside parked cars, looking at him. But when he looked back at them,their eyes dropped, they turned away, they began moving off. He wasstill too much the First One to have his gaze met.     He walked up what had once been a concrete path and was now an ornateflagstone path. He climbed the new porch and raised the ornamentalknocker on the new door and heard the soft music sound within. He wassurprised that he'd had to do this. He'd thought Edith would be watchingat a window.     And perhaps she      had     been watching ... but she hadn't opened the door.     The door opened; he looked at her. It hadn't been too long and shehadn't changed at all. She was still the small, slender girl he'd lovedin high school, the small, slender woman he'd married twelve years ago.Ralphie was with her. They held onto each other as if seeking mutualsupport, the thirty-three-year old woman and ten-year-old boy. Theylooked at him, and then both moved forward, still together. He said,It's good to be home!     Edith nodded and, still holding to Ralphie with one hand, put the otherarm around him. He kissed her—her neck, her cheek—and all the oldjokes came to mind, the jokes of travel-weary, battle-weary men, theand-      then     -I'll-put-my-pack-aside jokes that spoke of terrible hunger.She was trembling, and even as her lips came up to touch his he felt thedifference, and because of this difference he turned with urgency toRalphie and picked him up and hugged him and said, because he couldthink of nothing else to say, What a big fella, what a big fella.     Ralphie stood in his arms as if his feet were still planted on thefloor, and he didn't look at his father but somewhere beyond him. Ididn't grow much while you were gone, Dad, Mom says I don't eat enough.     So he put him down and told himself that it would all change, thateverything would loosen up just as his commanding officer, GeneralCarlisle, had said it would early this morning before he leftWashington.     Give it some time, Carlisle had said. You need the time; they needthe time. And for the love of heaven, don't be sensitive.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you tell me where the story of THE HANGING STRANGER takes place?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN? [SEP] <s>He stared at the radio. He hesitated, reached out and switched on themike. He got through to her.     Hello, hello, darling, he whispered. Marsha, can you hear me?     Yes, yes. You down there, all warm and cozy, reading poetry, darling.Where you can see both ways instead of just up and down, up and down.     He tried to imagine where she was now as he spoke to her, how shelooked. He thought of Earth and how it had been there, years ago, withMarsha. Things had seemed so different then. There was something ofthat hope in his voice now as he spoke to her, yet not directly to her,as he looked out the window at the naked frigid sky and the barrenrocks.   '... and there is nowhere to go from the top of a mountain, But down, my dear; And the springs that flow on the floor of the valley Will never seem fresh or clear For thinking of the glitter of the mountain water In the feathery green of the year....'    The wind stormed over the shelter in a burst of power, buried the soundof his own voice.     Marsha, are you still there?     What the devil's the idea, poetry at a time like this, or any time?Terrence demanded. Listen, you taking this down? We haven't run intoany signs of the others. Six hundred thousand feet, Bruce! We feel ourdestiny. We conquer the Solar System. And we'll go out and out, andwe'll climb the highest mountain, the highest mountain anywhere. We'regoing up and up. We've voted on it. Unanimous. We go on. On to thetop, Bruce! Nothing can stop us. If it takes ten years, a hundred, athousand years, we'll find it. We'll find the top! Not the top of thisworld—the top of      everything     . The top of the  UNIVERSE  !     Later, Terrence's voice broke off in the middle of something orother—Bruce couldn't make any sense out of it at all—and turned intocrazy yells that faded out and never came back.     Bruce figured the others might still be climbing somewhere, or maybethey were dead. Either way it wouldn't make any difference to him. Heknew they would never come back down.     He was switching off the radio for good when he saw the colorationbreak over the window. It was the same as the dream, but for aninstant, dream and reality seemed fused like two superimposed filmnegatives.     He went to the window and looked out. The comfortable little city wasout there, and the canal flowing past through a pleasantly cool yetsunny afternoon. Purple mist blanketed the knees of low hills and therewas a valley, green and rich with the trees high and full beside thesoftly flowing canal water.     The filmy shapes that seemed alive, that were partly translucent,drifted along the water's edge, and birds as delicate as colored glasswavered down the wind.     He opened the shelter door and went out. The shelter looked the same,but useless now. How did the shelter of that bleak world get into thisone, where the air was warm and fragrant, where there was no cold, fromthat world into this one of his dreams?     The girl—Helene—was standing there leaning against a tree, smoking acigarette.     He walked toward her, and stopped. In the dream it had been easy, butnow he was embarrassed, in spite of the intimacy that had grown betweenthem. She wore the same casual slacks and sandals. Her hair was brown.She was not particularly beautiful, but she was comfortable to look atbecause she seemed so peaceful. Content, happy with what was and onlywhat was.     He turned quickly. The shelter was still there, and behind it the rowof spaceships—not like chalk marks on a tallyboard now, but like oddrelics that didn't belong there in the thick green grass. Five shipsinstead of four.     There was his own individual shelter beyond the headquarters building,and the other buildings. He looked up.     There was no mountain.  <doc-sep>   THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN     By BRYCE WALTON     Illustrated by BOB HAYES     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction June 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        First one up this tallest summit in the Solar       System was a rotten egg ... a very rotten egg!        Bruce heard their feet on the gravel outside and got up reluctantly toopen the door for them. He'd been reading some of Byron's poems he'dsneaked aboard the ship; after that he had been on the point of dozingoff, and now one of those strangely realistic dreams would have to bepostponed for a while. Funny, those dreams. There were faces in them ofhuman beings, or of ghosts, and other forms that weren't human at all,but seemed real and alive—except that they were also just parts of alast unconscious desire to escape death. Maybe that was it.     'Oh that my young life were a lasting dream, my spirit not awakeningtill the beam of an eternity should bring the 'morrow, Bruce said. Hesmiled without feeling much of anything and added, Thanks, Mr. Poe.     Jacobs and Anhauser stood outside. The icy wind cut through and intoBruce, but he didn't seem to notice. Anhauser's bulk loomed even largerin the special cold-resisting suiting. Jacobs' thin face frowned slylyat Bruce.     Come on in, boys, and get warm, Bruce invited.     Hey, poet, you're still here! Anhauser said, looking astonished.     We thought you'd be running off somewhere, Jacobs said.     Bruce reached for the suit on its hook, started climbing into it.Where? he asked. Mars looks alike wherever you go. Where did youthink I'd be running to?     Any place just so it was away from here and us, Anhauser said.     I don't have to do that. You are going away from me. That takes careof that, doesn't it?     Ah, come on, get the hell out of there, Jacobs said. He pulled therevolver from its holster and pointed it at Bruce. We got to get somesleep. We're starting up that mountain at five in the morning.     I know, Bruce said. I'll be glad to see you climb the mountain.     Outside, in the weird light of the double moons, Bruce looked up at thegigantic overhang of the mountain. It was unbelievable. The mountaindidn't seem to belong here. He'd thought so when they'd first hit Marseight months back and discovered the other four rockets that had nevergot back to Earth—all lying side by side under the mountain's shadow,like little white chalk marks on a tallyboard.     They'd estimated its height at over 45,000 feet, which was a lot higherthan any mountain on Earth. Yet Mars was much older, geologically. Theentire face of the planet was smoothed into soft, undulating red hillsby erosion. And there in the middle of barren nothingness rose that oneincredible mountain. On certain nights when the stars were right, ithad seemed to Bruce as though it were pointing an accusing finger atEarth—or a warning one.  <doc-sep>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>The problem of where to put the line between dream and reality began toworry Bruce. He would wake up and listen and take down what Terrencewas saying, and then go to sleep again with increasing expectancy. Hisdream took on continuity. He could return to the point where he hadleft it, and it was the same—allowing even for the time differencenecessitated by his periods of sleep.     He met people in the dreams, two girls and a man. They had names:Pietro, Marlene, Helene.     Helene he had seen from the beginning, but she became more real tohim all the time, until he could talk with her. After that, he couldalso talk with Marlene and Pietro, and the conversations made sense.Consistently, they made sense.     The Martian landscape was entirely different in the dreams. Greenvalleys and rivers, or actually wide canals, with odd trees trailingtheir branches on the slow, peacefully gliding currents. Here and therewere pastel-colored cities and there were things drifting through themthat were alive and intelligent and soft and warm and wonderful to know.     '      ... dreams, in their vivid coloring of life, as in that fleeting,shadowy, misty strife of semblance with reality which brings to thedelirious eye more lovely things of paradise and love—and all ourown!—than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known....     '     So sometimes he read poetry, but even that was hardly equal to thedreams.     And then he would wake up and listen to Terrence's voice. He wouldlook out the window over the barren frigid land where there was nothingbut seams of worn land, like scabs under the brazen sky.     If I had a choice, he thought, I wouldn't ever wake up at all again.The dreams may not be more real, but they're preferable.     Dreams were supposed to be wishful thinking, primarily, but hecouldn't live in them very long. His body would dry up and he woulddie. He had to stay awake enough to put a little energy back intohimself. Of course, if he died and lost the dreams, there would be onecompensation—he would also be free of Terrence and the rest of themwho had learned that the only value in life lay in killing one's wayacross the Cosmos.     But then he had a feeling Terrence's voice wouldn't be annoying himmuch more anyway. The voice was unreal, coming out of some void. Hecould switch off Terrence any time now, but he was still curious.     Bruce—Bruce, you still there? Listen, we're up here at what we figureto be five hundred thousand feet! It      is     impossible. We keep climbingand now we look up and we can see up and up and there the mountain isgoing up and up—     And some time later: Bruce, Marsha's dying! We don't know what's thematter. We can't find any reason for it. She's lying here and she keepslaughing and calling your name. She's a woman, so that's probably it.Women don't have real guts.     Bruce bent toward the radio. Outside the shelter, the wind whistledsoftly at the door.     Marsha, he said.     Bruce—     She hadn't said his name that way for a long time.     Marsha, remember how we used to talk about human values? I rememberhow you seemed to have something maybe different from the others. Inever thought you'd really buy this will to conquer, and now it doesn'tmatter....     He listened to her voice, first the crazy laughter, and then a whisper.Bruce, hello down there. Her voice was all mixed up with fear andhysteria and mockery. Bruce darling, are you lonely down there? I wishI were with you, safe ... free ... warm. I love you. Do you hear that?I really love you, after all. After all....       Her voice drifted away, came back to him. We're climbing the highestmountain. What are you doing there, relaxing where it's peaceful andwarm and sane? You always were such a calm guy. I remember now. Whatare you doing—reading poetry while we climb the mountain? What wasthat, Bruce—that one about the mountain you tried to quote to me lastnight before you ... I can't remember it now. Darling, what...?  <doc-sep>They walked toward the ugly red mound that jutted above the green. Whenthey came close enough, he saw the bodies lying there ... the remains,actually, of what had once been bodies. He felt too sickened to go onwalking.     It may seem cruel now, she said, but the Martians realized thatthere is no cure for the will to conquer. There is no safety from it,either, as the people of Earth and Venus discovered, unless it isgiven an impossible obstacle to overcome. So the Martians provided theConquerors with a mountain. They themselves wanted to climb. They hadto.     He was hardly listening as he walked away from Helene toward the erodedhills. The crew members of the first four ships were skeletons tiedtogether with imperishably strong rope about their waists. Far beyondthem were those from      Mars V     , too freshly dead to have decayedmuch ... Anhauser with his rope cut, a bullet in his head; Jacobs andMarsha and the others ... Terrence much past them all. He had managedto climb higher than anyone else and he lay with his arms stretchedout, his fingers still clutching at rock outcroppings.     The trail they left wound over the ground, chipped in places for holds,red elsewhere with blood from torn hands. Terrence was more than twelvemiles from the ship—horizontally.     Bruce lifted Marsha and carried her back over the rocky dust, into thefresh fragrance of the high grass, and across it to the shade and peacebeside the canal.     He put her down. She looked peaceful enough, more peaceful than thatother time, years ago, when the two of them seemed to have shared somuch, when the future had not yet destroyed her. He saw the shadow ofHelene bend across Marsha's face against the background of the silentlyflowing water of the cool, green canal.     You loved her?     Once, Bruce said. She might have been sane. They got her when shewas young. Too young to fight. But she would have, I think, if she'dbeen older when they got her.     He sat looking down at Marsha's face, and then at the water with theleaves floating down it.     '... And the springs that flow on the floor of the valley will neverseem fresh or clear for thinking of the glitter of the mountain waterin the feathery green of the year....'     He stood up, walked back with Helene along the canal toward the calmcity. He didn't look back.     They've all been dead quite a while, Bruce said wonderingly. YetI seemed to be hearing from Terrence until only a short time ago.Are—are the climbers still climbing—somewhere, Helene?     Who knows? Helene answered softly. Maybe. I doubt if even theMartians have the answer to that.     They entered the city.   <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>For one shivery moment he knew fear. And then the fear went away, andhe was ashamed of what he had felt. What he had feared was gone now,and he knew it was gone for good and he would never have to fear itagain.     Look here, Bruce. I wondered how long it would take to get it throughthat thick poetic head of yours!     Get what? He began to suspect what it was all about now, but hewasn't quite sure yet.     Smoke? she said.     He took one of the cigarettes and she lighted it for him and put thelighter back into her pocket.     It's real nice here, she said. Isn't it?     I guess it's about perfect.     It'll be easy. Staying here, I mean. We won't be going to Earth everagain, you know.     I didn't      know     that, but I didn't      think     we ever would again.     We wouldn't want to anyway, would we, Bruce?     No.     He kept on looking at the place where the mountain had been. Or maybeit still was; he couldn't make up his mind yet. Which was and which wasnot? That barren icy world without life, or this?     '      Is all that we see or seem     ,' he whispered, half to himself, '      buta dream within a dream?     '     She laughed softly. Poe was ahead of his time, she said. You stilldon't get it, do you? You don't know what's been happening?     Maybe I don't.     She shrugged, and looked in the direction of the ships. Poor guys. Ican't feel much hatred toward them now. The Martians give you a lot ofunderstanding of the human mind—after they've accepted you, and afteryou've lived with them awhile. But the mountain climbers—we can seenow—it's just luck, chance, we weren't like them. A deviant is a childof chance.     Yes, Bruce said. There's a lot of people like us on Earth, butthey'll never get the chance—the chance we seem to have here, to livedecently....     You're beginning to see now which was the dream, she said andsmiled. But don't be pessimistic. Those people on Earth will get theirchance, too, one of these fine days. The Conquerors aren't getting far.Venus, and then Mars, and Mars is where they stop. They'll keep cominghere and climbing the mountain and finally there won't be any more. Itwon't take so long.     She rose to her toes and waved and yelled. Bruce saw Pietro and Marlenewalking hand in hand up the other side of the canal. They waved backand called and then pushed off into the water in a small boat, anddrifted away and out of sight around a gentle turn.     She took his arm and they walked along the canal toward where themountain had been, or still was—he didn't know.     A quarter of a mile beyond the canal, he saw the high mound of red,naked hill, corroded and ugly, rising up like a scar of the surroundinggreen.     She wasn't smiling now. There were shadows on her face as the pressureon his arm stopped him.     I was on the first ship and Marlene on the second. None like us on thethird, and on the fourth ship was Pietro. All the others had to climbthe mountain— She stopped talking for a moment, and then he felt thepressure of her fingers on his arm. I'm very glad you came on thefifth, she whispered. Are you glad now?     I'm very glad, he said.     The Martians tested us, she explained. They're masters of the mind.I guess they've been grinding along through the evolutionary milla darn long time, longer than we could estimate now. They learnedthe horror we're capable of from the first ship—the Conquerors,the climbers. The Martians knew more like them would come and go oninto space, killing, destroying for no other reason than their ownsickness. Being masters of the mind, the Martians are also capableof hypnosis—no, that's not really the word, only the closest ourlanguage comes to naming it. Suggestion so deep and strong that itseems real to one human or a million or a billion; there's no limit tothe number that can be influenced. What the people who came off thoseships saw wasn't real. It was partly what the Martians wanted them tosee and feel—but most of it, like the desire to climb the mountain,was as much a part of the Conquerors' own psychic drive as it was thesuggestion of the Martians.     She waved her arm slowly to describe a peak. The Martians made themountain real. So real that it could be seen from space, measured byinstruments ... even photographed and chipped for rock samples. Butyou'll see how that was done, Bruce, and realize that this and not themountain of the Conquerors is the reality of Mars. This is the Mars noConqueror will ever see.  <doc-sep>Bruce watched them go, away and up and around the immediate face ofthe mountain in the bleak cold of the Martian morning. He watched themdisappear behind a high ledge, tied together with plastic rope likeconvicts.     He stayed by the radio. He lost track of time and didn't care muchif he did. Sometimes he took a heavy sedative and slept. The sedativeprevented the dreams. He had an idea that the dreams might be sopleasant that he wouldn't wake up. He wanted to listen to Terrence aslong as the captain had anything to say. It was nothing but curiosity.     At fifteen thousand feet, Terrence reported only that they wereclimbing.     At twenty thousand feet, Terrence said, We're still climbing, andthat's all I can report, Bruce. It's worth coming to Mars for—toaccept a challenge like this!     At twenty-five thousand feet, Terrence reported, We've put on oxygenmasks. Jacobs and Drexel have developed some kind of altitude sicknessand we're taking a little time out. It's a magnificent sight up here. Ican imagine plenty of tourists coming to Mars one of these days, justto climb this mountain! Mt. Everest is a pimple compared with this!What a feeling of power, Bruce!     From forty thousand feet, Terrence said, We gauged this mountainat forty-five thousand. But here we are at forty and there doesn'tseem to be any top. We can see up and up and the mountain keeps ongoing. I don't understand how we could have made such an error in ourcomputations. I talked with Burton. He doesn't see how a mountain thishigh could still be here when the rest of the planet has been worn sosmooth.     And then from fifty-three thousand feet, Terrence said with a voicethat seemed slightly strained: No sign of any of the crew of the otherfour ships yet. Ten in each crew, that makes fifty. Not a sign of anyof them so far, but then we seem to have a long way left to climb—     Bruce listened and noted and took sedatives and opened cans of foodconcentrates. He smoked and ate and slept. He had plenty of time. Hehad only time and the dreams which he knew he could utilize later totake care of the time.     From sixty thousand feet, Terrence reported, I had to shoot Anhausera few minutes ago! He was dissenting. Hear that, Bruce? One of my mostdependable men. We took a vote. A mere formality, of course, whetherwe should continue climbing or not. We knew we'd all vote to keep onclimbing. And then Anhauser dissented. He was hysterical. He refusedto accept the majority decision. 'I'm going back down!' he yelled.So I had to shoot him. Imagine a man of his apparent caliber turninganti-democratic like that! This mountain will be a great tester forus in the future. We'll test everybody, find out quickly who theweaklings are.     Bruce listened to the wind. It seemed to rise higher and higher.Terrence, who had climbed still higher, was calling. Think of it! Whata conquest! No man's ever done a thing like this. Like Stromberg says,it's symbolic! We can build spaceships and reach other planets, butthat's not actual physical conquest. We feel like gods up here. We cansee what we are now. We can see how it's going to be—     Once in a while Terrence demanded that Bruce say something to prove hewas still there taking down what Terrence said. Bruce obliged. A longtime passed, the way time does when no one cares. Bruce stopped takingthe sedatives finally. The dreams came back and became, somehow, morereal each time. He needed the companionship of the dreams.     It was very lonely sitting there without the dreams, with nothing butTerrence's voice ranting excitedly on and on. Terrence didn't seem realany more; certainly not as real as the dreams.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the backdrop of THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN? [SEP] <s>He stared at the radio. He hesitated, reached out and switched on themike. He got through to her.     Hello, hello, darling, he whispered. Marsha, can you hear me?     Yes, yes. You down there, all warm and cozy, reading poetry, darling.Where you can see both ways instead of just up and down, up and down.     He tried to imagine where she was now as he spoke to her, how shelooked. He thought of Earth and how it had been there, years ago, withMarsha. Things had seemed so different then. There was something ofthat hope in his voice now as he spoke to her, yet not directly to her,as he looked out the window at the naked frigid sky and the barrenrocks.   '... and there is nowhere to go from the top of a mountain, But down, my dear; And the springs that flow on the floor of the valley Will never seem fresh or clear For thinking of the glitter of the mountain water In the feathery green of the year....'    The wind stormed over the shelter in a burst of power, buried the soundof his own voice.     Marsha, are you still there?     What the devil's the idea, poetry at a time like this, or any time?Terrence demanded. Listen, you taking this down? We haven't run intoany signs of the others. Six hundred thousand feet, Bruce! We feel ourdestiny. We conquer the Solar System. And we'll go out and out, andwe'll climb the highest mountain, the highest mountain anywhere. We'regoing up and up. We've voted on it. Unanimous. We go on. On to thetop, Bruce! Nothing can stop us. If it takes ten years, a hundred, athousand years, we'll find it. We'll find the top! Not the top of thisworld—the top of      everything     . The top of the  UNIVERSE  !     Later, Terrence's voice broke off in the middle of something orother—Bruce couldn't make any sense out of it at all—and turned intocrazy yells that faded out and never came back.     Bruce figured the others might still be climbing somewhere, or maybethey were dead. Either way it wouldn't make any difference to him. Heknew they would never come back down.     He was switching off the radio for good when he saw the colorationbreak over the window. It was the same as the dream, but for aninstant, dream and reality seemed fused like two superimposed filmnegatives.     He went to the window and looked out. The comfortable little city wasout there, and the canal flowing past through a pleasantly cool yetsunny afternoon. Purple mist blanketed the knees of low hills and therewas a valley, green and rich with the trees high and full beside thesoftly flowing canal water.     The filmy shapes that seemed alive, that were partly translucent,drifted along the water's edge, and birds as delicate as colored glasswavered down the wind.     He opened the shelter door and went out. The shelter looked the same,but useless now. How did the shelter of that bleak world get into thisone, where the air was warm and fragrant, where there was no cold, fromthat world into this one of his dreams?     The girl—Helene—was standing there leaning against a tree, smoking acigarette.     He walked toward her, and stopped. In the dream it had been easy, butnow he was embarrassed, in spite of the intimacy that had grown betweenthem. She wore the same casual slacks and sandals. Her hair was brown.She was not particularly beautiful, but she was comfortable to look atbecause she seemed so peaceful. Content, happy with what was and onlywhat was.     He turned quickly. The shelter was still there, and behind it the rowof spaceships—not like chalk marks on a tallyboard now, but like oddrelics that didn't belong there in the thick green grass. Five shipsinstead of four.     There was his own individual shelter beyond the headquarters building,and the other buildings. He looked up.     There was no mountain.  <doc-sep>   THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN     By BRYCE WALTON     Illustrated by BOB HAYES     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction June 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        First one up this tallest summit in the Solar       System was a rotten egg ... a very rotten egg!        Bruce heard their feet on the gravel outside and got up reluctantly toopen the door for them. He'd been reading some of Byron's poems he'dsneaked aboard the ship; after that he had been on the point of dozingoff, and now one of those strangely realistic dreams would have to bepostponed for a while. Funny, those dreams. There were faces in them ofhuman beings, or of ghosts, and other forms that weren't human at all,but seemed real and alive—except that they were also just parts of alast unconscious desire to escape death. Maybe that was it.     'Oh that my young life were a lasting dream, my spirit not awakeningtill the beam of an eternity should bring the 'morrow, Bruce said. Hesmiled without feeling much of anything and added, Thanks, Mr. Poe.     Jacobs and Anhauser stood outside. The icy wind cut through and intoBruce, but he didn't seem to notice. Anhauser's bulk loomed even largerin the special cold-resisting suiting. Jacobs' thin face frowned slylyat Bruce.     Come on in, boys, and get warm, Bruce invited.     Hey, poet, you're still here! Anhauser said, looking astonished.     We thought you'd be running off somewhere, Jacobs said.     Bruce reached for the suit on its hook, started climbing into it.Where? he asked. Mars looks alike wherever you go. Where did youthink I'd be running to?     Any place just so it was away from here and us, Anhauser said.     I don't have to do that. You are going away from me. That takes careof that, doesn't it?     Ah, come on, get the hell out of there, Jacobs said. He pulled therevolver from its holster and pointed it at Bruce. We got to get somesleep. We're starting up that mountain at five in the morning.     I know, Bruce said. I'll be glad to see you climb the mountain.     Outside, in the weird light of the double moons, Bruce looked up at thegigantic overhang of the mountain. It was unbelievable. The mountaindidn't seem to belong here. He'd thought so when they'd first hit Marseight months back and discovered the other four rockets that had nevergot back to Earth—all lying side by side under the mountain's shadow,like little white chalk marks on a tallyboard.     They'd estimated its height at over 45,000 feet, which was a lot higherthan any mountain on Earth. Yet Mars was much older, geologically. Theentire face of the planet was smoothed into soft, undulating red hillsby erosion. And there in the middle of barren nothingness rose that oneincredible mountain. On certain nights when the stars were right, ithad seemed to Bruce as though it were pointing an accusing finger atEarth—or a warning one.  <doc-sep>The problem of where to put the line between dream and reality began toworry Bruce. He would wake up and listen and take down what Terrencewas saying, and then go to sleep again with increasing expectancy. Hisdream took on continuity. He could return to the point where he hadleft it, and it was the same—allowing even for the time differencenecessitated by his periods of sleep.     He met people in the dreams, two girls and a man. They had names:Pietro, Marlene, Helene.     Helene he had seen from the beginning, but she became more real tohim all the time, until he could talk with her. After that, he couldalso talk with Marlene and Pietro, and the conversations made sense.Consistently, they made sense.     The Martian landscape was entirely different in the dreams. Greenvalleys and rivers, or actually wide canals, with odd trees trailingtheir branches on the slow, peacefully gliding currents. Here and therewere pastel-colored cities and there were things drifting through themthat were alive and intelligent and soft and warm and wonderful to know.     '      ... dreams, in their vivid coloring of life, as in that fleeting,shadowy, misty strife of semblance with reality which brings to thedelirious eye more lovely things of paradise and love—and all ourown!—than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known....     '     So sometimes he read poetry, but even that was hardly equal to thedreams.     And then he would wake up and listen to Terrence's voice. He wouldlook out the window over the barren frigid land where there was nothingbut seams of worn land, like scabs under the brazen sky.     If I had a choice, he thought, I wouldn't ever wake up at all again.The dreams may not be more real, but they're preferable.     Dreams were supposed to be wishful thinking, primarily, but hecouldn't live in them very long. His body would dry up and he woulddie. He had to stay awake enough to put a little energy back intohimself. Of course, if he died and lost the dreams, there would be onecompensation—he would also be free of Terrence and the rest of themwho had learned that the only value in life lay in killing one's wayacross the Cosmos.     But then he had a feeling Terrence's voice wouldn't be annoying himmuch more anyway. The voice was unreal, coming out of some void. Hecould switch off Terrence any time now, but he was still curious.     Bruce—Bruce, you still there? Listen, we're up here at what we figureto be five hundred thousand feet! It      is     impossible. We keep climbingand now we look up and we can see up and up and there the mountain isgoing up and up—     And some time later: Bruce, Marsha's dying! We don't know what's thematter. We can't find any reason for it. She's lying here and she keepslaughing and calling your name. She's a woman, so that's probably it.Women don't have real guts.     Bruce bent toward the radio. Outside the shelter, the wind whistledsoftly at the door.     Marsha, he said.     Bruce—     She hadn't said his name that way for a long time.     Marsha, remember how we used to talk about human values? I rememberhow you seemed to have something maybe different from the others. Inever thought you'd really buy this will to conquer, and now it doesn'tmatter....     He listened to her voice, first the crazy laughter, and then a whisper.Bruce, hello down there. Her voice was all mixed up with fear andhysteria and mockery. Bruce darling, are you lonely down there? I wishI were with you, safe ... free ... warm. I love you. Do you hear that?I really love you, after all. After all....       Her voice drifted away, came back to him. We're climbing the highestmountain. What are you doing there, relaxing where it's peaceful andwarm and sane? You always were such a calm guy. I remember now. Whatare you doing—reading poetry while we climb the mountain? What wasthat, Bruce—that one about the mountain you tried to quote to me lastnight before you ... I can't remember it now. Darling, what...?  <doc-sep>For one shivery moment he knew fear. And then the fear went away, andhe was ashamed of what he had felt. What he had feared was gone now,and he knew it was gone for good and he would never have to fear itagain.     Look here, Bruce. I wondered how long it would take to get it throughthat thick poetic head of yours!     Get what? He began to suspect what it was all about now, but hewasn't quite sure yet.     Smoke? she said.     He took one of the cigarettes and she lighted it for him and put thelighter back into her pocket.     It's real nice here, she said. Isn't it?     I guess it's about perfect.     It'll be easy. Staying here, I mean. We won't be going to Earth everagain, you know.     I didn't      know     that, but I didn't      think     we ever would again.     We wouldn't want to anyway, would we, Bruce?     No.     He kept on looking at the place where the mountain had been. Or maybeit still was; he couldn't make up his mind yet. Which was and which wasnot? That barren icy world without life, or this?     '      Is all that we see or seem     ,' he whispered, half to himself, '      buta dream within a dream?     '     She laughed softly. Poe was ahead of his time, she said. You stilldon't get it, do you? You don't know what's been happening?     Maybe I don't.     She shrugged, and looked in the direction of the ships. Poor guys. Ican't feel much hatred toward them now. The Martians give you a lot ofunderstanding of the human mind—after they've accepted you, and afteryou've lived with them awhile. But the mountain climbers—we can seenow—it's just luck, chance, we weren't like them. A deviant is a childof chance.     Yes, Bruce said. There's a lot of people like us on Earth, butthey'll never get the chance—the chance we seem to have here, to livedecently....     You're beginning to see now which was the dream, she said andsmiled. But don't be pessimistic. Those people on Earth will get theirchance, too, one of these fine days. The Conquerors aren't getting far.Venus, and then Mars, and Mars is where they stop. They'll keep cominghere and climbing the mountain and finally there won't be any more. Itwon't take so long.     She rose to her toes and waved and yelled. Bruce saw Pietro and Marlenewalking hand in hand up the other side of the canal. They waved backand called and then pushed off into the water in a small boat, anddrifted away and out of sight around a gentle turn.     She took his arm and they walked along the canal toward where themountain had been, or still was—he didn't know.     A quarter of a mile beyond the canal, he saw the high mound of red,naked hill, corroded and ugly, rising up like a scar of the surroundinggreen.     She wasn't smiling now. There were shadows on her face as the pressureon his arm stopped him.     I was on the first ship and Marlene on the second. None like us on thethird, and on the fourth ship was Pietro. All the others had to climbthe mountain— She stopped talking for a moment, and then he felt thepressure of her fingers on his arm. I'm very glad you came on thefifth, she whispered. Are you glad now?     I'm very glad, he said.     The Martians tested us, she explained. They're masters of the mind.I guess they've been grinding along through the evolutionary milla darn long time, longer than we could estimate now. They learnedthe horror we're capable of from the first ship—the Conquerors,the climbers. The Martians knew more like them would come and go oninto space, killing, destroying for no other reason than their ownsickness. Being masters of the mind, the Martians are also capableof hypnosis—no, that's not really the word, only the closest ourlanguage comes to naming it. Suggestion so deep and strong that itseems real to one human or a million or a billion; there's no limit tothe number that can be influenced. What the people who came off thoseships saw wasn't real. It was partly what the Martians wanted them tosee and feel—but most of it, like the desire to climb the mountain,was as much a part of the Conquerors' own psychic drive as it was thesuggestion of the Martians.     She waved her arm slowly to describe a peak. The Martians made themountain real. So real that it could be seen from space, measured byinstruments ... even photographed and chipped for rock samples. Butyou'll see how that was done, Bruce, and realize that this and not themountain of the Conquerors is the reality of Mars. This is the Mars noConqueror will ever see.  <doc-sep>  THE GIANTS RETURN     By ROBERT ABERNATHY     Earth set itself grimly to meet them with     corrosive fire, determined to blast them     back to the stars. But they erred in thinking     the Old Ones were too big to be clever.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      In the last hours the star ahead had grown brighter by many magnitudes,and had changed its color from a dazzling blue through white to thenormal yellow, of a GO sun. That was the Doppler effect as the star'sradial velocity changed relative to the      Quest III     , as for forty hoursthe ship had decelerated.     They had seen many such stars come near out of the galaxy's glitteringbackdrop, and had seen them dwindle, turn red and go out as the      QuestIII     drove on its way once more, lashed by despair toward the speed oflight, leaving behind the mockery of yet another solitary and lifelessluminary unaccompanied by worlds where men might dwell. They had grownsated with the sight of wonders—of multiple systems of giant stars, ofnebulae that sprawled in empty flame across light years.     But now unwonted excitement possessed the hundred-odd members of the      Quest III's     crew. It was a subdued excitement; men and women, theycame and stood quietly gazing into the big vision screens that showedthe oncoming star, and there were wide-eyed children who had been bornin the ship and had never seen a planet. The grownups talked in lowvoices, in tones of mingled eagerness and apprehension, of what mightlie at the long journey's end. For the      Quest III     was coming home; thesun ahead was      the     Sun, whose rays had warmed their lives' beginning.  <doc-sep>Bruce watched them go, away and up and around the immediate face ofthe mountain in the bleak cold of the Martian morning. He watched themdisappear behind a high ledge, tied together with plastic rope likeconvicts.     He stayed by the radio. He lost track of time and didn't care muchif he did. Sometimes he took a heavy sedative and slept. The sedativeprevented the dreams. He had an idea that the dreams might be sopleasant that he wouldn't wake up. He wanted to listen to Terrence aslong as the captain had anything to say. It was nothing but curiosity.     At fifteen thousand feet, Terrence reported only that they wereclimbing.     At twenty thousand feet, Terrence said, We're still climbing, andthat's all I can report, Bruce. It's worth coming to Mars for—toaccept a challenge like this!     At twenty-five thousand feet, Terrence reported, We've put on oxygenmasks. Jacobs and Drexel have developed some kind of altitude sicknessand we're taking a little time out. It's a magnificent sight up here. Ican imagine plenty of tourists coming to Mars one of these days, justto climb this mountain! Mt. Everest is a pimple compared with this!What a feeling of power, Bruce!     From forty thousand feet, Terrence said, We gauged this mountainat forty-five thousand. But here we are at forty and there doesn'tseem to be any top. We can see up and up and the mountain keeps ongoing. I don't understand how we could have made such an error in ourcomputations. I talked with Burton. He doesn't see how a mountain thishigh could still be here when the rest of the planet has been worn sosmooth.     And then from fifty-three thousand feet, Terrence said with a voicethat seemed slightly strained: No sign of any of the crew of the otherfour ships yet. Ten in each crew, that makes fifty. Not a sign of anyof them so far, but then we seem to have a long way left to climb—     Bruce listened and noted and took sedatives and opened cans of foodconcentrates. He smoked and ate and slept. He had plenty of time. Hehad only time and the dreams which he knew he could utilize later totake care of the time.     From sixty thousand feet, Terrence reported, I had to shoot Anhausera few minutes ago! He was dissenting. Hear that, Bruce? One of my mostdependable men. We took a vote. A mere formality, of course, whetherwe should continue climbing or not. We knew we'd all vote to keep onclimbing. And then Anhauser dissented. He was hysterical. He refusedto accept the majority decision. 'I'm going back down!' he yelled.So I had to shoot him. Imagine a man of his apparent caliber turninganti-democratic like that! This mountain will be a great tester forus in the future. We'll test everybody, find out quickly who theweaklings are.     Bruce listened to the wind. It seemed to rise higher and higher.Terrence, who had climbed still higher, was calling. Think of it! Whata conquest! No man's ever done a thing like this. Like Stromberg says,it's symbolic! We can build spaceships and reach other planets, butthat's not actual physical conquest. We feel like gods up here. We cansee what we are now. We can see how it's going to be—     Once in a while Terrence demanded that Bruce say something to prove hewas still there taking down what Terrence said. Bruce obliged. A longtime passed, the way time does when no one cares. Bruce stopped takingthe sedatives finally. The dreams came back and became, somehow, morereal each time. He needed the companionship of the dreams.     It was very lonely sitting there without the dreams, with nothing butTerrence's voice ranting excitedly on and on. Terrence didn't seem realany more; certainly not as real as the dreams.  <doc-sep>   The Sense of Wonder     By MILTON LESSER     Illustrated by HARRY ROSENBAUM     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      When nobody aboard ship remembers where it's     going, how can they tell when it has arrived?      Every day for a week now, Rikud had come to the viewport to watchthe great changeless sweep of space. He could not quite explain thefeelings within him; they were so alien, so unnatural. But ever sincethe engines somewhere in the rear of the world had changed their tone,from the steady whining Rikud had heard all twenty-five years of hislife, to the sullen roar that came to his ears now, the feelings hadgrown.     If anyone else had noticed the change, he failed to mention it. Thisdisturbed Rikud, although he could not tell why. And, because he hadrealized this odd difference in himself, he kept it locked up insidehim.     Today, space looked somehow different. The stars—it was a meaninglessconcept to Rikud, but that was what everyone called the brightpinpoints of light on the black backdrop in the viewport—were notapparent in the speckled profusion Rikud had always known. Instead,there was more of the blackness, and one very bright star set apartby itself in the middle of the viewport.     If he had understood the term, Rikud would have told himself this wasodd. His head ached with the half-born thought. It was—it was—whatwas it?     Someone was clomping up the companionway behind Rikud. He turned andgreeted gray-haired old Chuls.     In five more years, the older man chided, you'll be ready to sirechildren. And all you can do in the meantime is gaze out at the stars.     Rikud knew he should be exercising now, or bathing in the rays of thehealth-lamps. It had never occurred to him that he didn't feel like it;he just didn't, without comprehending.     Chuls' reminder fostered uneasiness. Often Rikud had dreamed of thetime he would be thirty and a father. Whom would the Calculator selectas his mate? The first time this idea had occurred to him, Rikudignored it. But it came again, and each time it left him with a feelinghe could not explain. Why should he think thoughts that no other manhad? Why should he think he was thinking such thoughts, when it alwaysembroiled him in a hopeless, infinite confusion that left him with aheadache?     Chuls said, It is time for my bath in the health-rays. I saw you hereand knew it was your time, too....     His voice trailed off. Rikud knew that something which he could notexplain had entered the elder man's head for a moment, but it haddeparted almost before Chuls knew of its existence.     I'll go with you, Rikud told him.  <doc-sep>In the evening a girl brought Maitland his meal. As the door slidaside, he automatically stood up, and they stared at each other forseveral seconds.     She had the high cheekbones and almond eyes of an Oriental, skin thatglowed like gold in the evening light, yet thick coiled braids ofblonde hair that glittered like polished brass. Shorts and a sleevelessblouse of some thick, reddish, metallic-looking fabric clung to herbody, and over that she was wearing a light, ankle-length cloak of whatseemed to be white wool.     She was looking at him with palpable curiosity and something likeexpectancy. Maitland sighed and said, Hello, then glanced downself-consciously at his wrinkled green pajamas.       She smiled, put the tray of food on the table, and swept out, her cloakbillowing behind her. Maitland remained standing, staring at the closeddoor for a minute after she was gone.     Later, when he had finished the steak and corn on the cob and shreddedcarrots, and a feeling of warm well-being was diffusing from hisstomach to his extremities, he sat down on the bed to watch the sunsetand to think.     There were three questions for which he required answers before hecould formulate any plan or policy.     Where was he?     Who was Swarts?     What was the purpose of the tests he was being given?     It was possible, of course, that this was all an elaborate schemefor getting military secrets, despite Swarts' protestations to thecontrary. Maitland frowned. This place certainly didn't have theappearance of a military establishment, and so far there had beennothing to suggest the kind of interrogation to be expected fromforeign intelligence officers.     It might be better to tackle the first question first. He looked atthe Sun, a red spheroid already half below the horizon, and tried tothink of a region that had this kind of terrain. That prairie out therewas unique. Almost anywhere in the world, land like that would becultivated, not allowed to go to grass.     This might be somewhere in Africa....     He shook his head, puzzled. The Sun disappeared and its blood-huedglow began to fade from the sky. Maitland sat there, trying to gethold of the problem from an angle where it wouldn't just slip away.After a while the western sky became a screen of clear luminous blue,a backdrop for a pure white brilliant star. As always at that sight,Maitland felt his worry drain away, leaving an almost mystical sense ofpeace and an undefinable longing.     Venus, the most beautiful of the planets.     Maitland kept track of them all in their majestic paths through theconstellations, but Venus was his favorite. Time and time again hehad watched its steady climb higher and higher in the western sky,its transient rule there as evening star, its progression toward thehorizon, and loved it equally in its      alter ego     of morning star. Venuswas an old friend. An old friend....     Something icy settled on the back of his neck, ran down his spine, anddiffused into his body. He stared at the planet unbelievingly, fistsclenched, forgetting to breathe.     Last night Venus hadn't been there.     Venus was a morning star just now....       Just now!       He realized the truth in that moment.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the backdrop of THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you describe the connection between Bruce and Marsha in THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN? [SEP] <s>He stared at the radio. He hesitated, reached out and switched on themike. He got through to her.     Hello, hello, darling, he whispered. Marsha, can you hear me?     Yes, yes. You down there, all warm and cozy, reading poetry, darling.Where you can see both ways instead of just up and down, up and down.     He tried to imagine where she was now as he spoke to her, how shelooked. He thought of Earth and how it had been there, years ago, withMarsha. Things had seemed so different then. There was something ofthat hope in his voice now as he spoke to her, yet not directly to her,as he looked out the window at the naked frigid sky and the barrenrocks.   '... and there is nowhere to go from the top of a mountain, But down, my dear; And the springs that flow on the floor of the valley Will never seem fresh or clear For thinking of the glitter of the mountain water In the feathery green of the year....'    The wind stormed over the shelter in a burst of power, buried the soundof his own voice.     Marsha, are you still there?     What the devil's the idea, poetry at a time like this, or any time?Terrence demanded. Listen, you taking this down? We haven't run intoany signs of the others. Six hundred thousand feet, Bruce! We feel ourdestiny. We conquer the Solar System. And we'll go out and out, andwe'll climb the highest mountain, the highest mountain anywhere. We'regoing up and up. We've voted on it. Unanimous. We go on. On to thetop, Bruce! Nothing can stop us. If it takes ten years, a hundred, athousand years, we'll find it. We'll find the top! Not the top of thisworld—the top of      everything     . The top of the  UNIVERSE  !     Later, Terrence's voice broke off in the middle of something orother—Bruce couldn't make any sense out of it at all—and turned intocrazy yells that faded out and never came back.     Bruce figured the others might still be climbing somewhere, or maybethey were dead. Either way it wouldn't make any difference to him. Heknew they would never come back down.     He was switching off the radio for good when he saw the colorationbreak over the window. It was the same as the dream, but for aninstant, dream and reality seemed fused like two superimposed filmnegatives.     He went to the window and looked out. The comfortable little city wasout there, and the canal flowing past through a pleasantly cool yetsunny afternoon. Purple mist blanketed the knees of low hills and therewas a valley, green and rich with the trees high and full beside thesoftly flowing canal water.     The filmy shapes that seemed alive, that were partly translucent,drifted along the water's edge, and birds as delicate as colored glasswavered down the wind.     He opened the shelter door and went out. The shelter looked the same,but useless now. How did the shelter of that bleak world get into thisone, where the air was warm and fragrant, where there was no cold, fromthat world into this one of his dreams?     The girl—Helene—was standing there leaning against a tree, smoking acigarette.     He walked toward her, and stopped. In the dream it had been easy, butnow he was embarrassed, in spite of the intimacy that had grown betweenthem. She wore the same casual slacks and sandals. Her hair was brown.She was not particularly beautiful, but she was comfortable to look atbecause she seemed so peaceful. Content, happy with what was and onlywhat was.     He turned quickly. The shelter was still there, and behind it the rowof spaceships—not like chalk marks on a tallyboard now, but like oddrelics that didn't belong there in the thick green grass. Five shipsinstead of four.     There was his own individual shelter beyond the headquarters building,and the other buildings. He looked up.     There was no mountain.  <doc-sep>The problem of where to put the line between dream and reality began toworry Bruce. He would wake up and listen and take down what Terrencewas saying, and then go to sleep again with increasing expectancy. Hisdream took on continuity. He could return to the point where he hadleft it, and it was the same—allowing even for the time differencenecessitated by his periods of sleep.     He met people in the dreams, two girls and a man. They had names:Pietro, Marlene, Helene.     Helene he had seen from the beginning, but she became more real tohim all the time, until he could talk with her. After that, he couldalso talk with Marlene and Pietro, and the conversations made sense.Consistently, they made sense.     The Martian landscape was entirely different in the dreams. Greenvalleys and rivers, or actually wide canals, with odd trees trailingtheir branches on the slow, peacefully gliding currents. Here and therewere pastel-colored cities and there were things drifting through themthat were alive and intelligent and soft and warm and wonderful to know.     '      ... dreams, in their vivid coloring of life, as in that fleeting,shadowy, misty strife of semblance with reality which brings to thedelirious eye more lovely things of paradise and love—and all ourown!—than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known....     '     So sometimes he read poetry, but even that was hardly equal to thedreams.     And then he would wake up and listen to Terrence's voice. He wouldlook out the window over the barren frigid land where there was nothingbut seams of worn land, like scabs under the brazen sky.     If I had a choice, he thought, I wouldn't ever wake up at all again.The dreams may not be more real, but they're preferable.     Dreams were supposed to be wishful thinking, primarily, but hecouldn't live in them very long. His body would dry up and he woulddie. He had to stay awake enough to put a little energy back intohimself. Of course, if he died and lost the dreams, there would be onecompensation—he would also be free of Terrence and the rest of themwho had learned that the only value in life lay in killing one's wayacross the Cosmos.     But then he had a feeling Terrence's voice wouldn't be annoying himmuch more anyway. The voice was unreal, coming out of some void. Hecould switch off Terrence any time now, but he was still curious.     Bruce—Bruce, you still there? Listen, we're up here at what we figureto be five hundred thousand feet! It      is     impossible. We keep climbingand now we look up and we can see up and up and there the mountain isgoing up and up—     And some time later: Bruce, Marsha's dying! We don't know what's thematter. We can't find any reason for it. She's lying here and she keepslaughing and calling your name. She's a woman, so that's probably it.Women don't have real guts.     Bruce bent toward the radio. Outside the shelter, the wind whistledsoftly at the door.     Marsha, he said.     Bruce—     She hadn't said his name that way for a long time.     Marsha, remember how we used to talk about human values? I rememberhow you seemed to have something maybe different from the others. Inever thought you'd really buy this will to conquer, and now it doesn'tmatter....     He listened to her voice, first the crazy laughter, and then a whisper.Bruce, hello down there. Her voice was all mixed up with fear andhysteria and mockery. Bruce darling, are you lonely down there? I wishI were with you, safe ... free ... warm. I love you. Do you hear that?I really love you, after all. After all....       Her voice drifted away, came back to him. We're climbing the highestmountain. What are you doing there, relaxing where it's peaceful andwarm and sane? You always were such a calm guy. I remember now. Whatare you doing—reading poetry while we climb the mountain? What wasthat, Bruce—that one about the mountain you tried to quote to me lastnight before you ... I can't remember it now. Darling, what...?  <doc-sep>They walked toward the ugly red mound that jutted above the green. Whenthey came close enough, he saw the bodies lying there ... the remains,actually, of what had once been bodies. He felt too sickened to go onwalking.     It may seem cruel now, she said, but the Martians realized thatthere is no cure for the will to conquer. There is no safety from it,either, as the people of Earth and Venus discovered, unless it isgiven an impossible obstacle to overcome. So the Martians provided theConquerors with a mountain. They themselves wanted to climb. They hadto.     He was hardly listening as he walked away from Helene toward the erodedhills. The crew members of the first four ships were skeletons tiedtogether with imperishably strong rope about their waists. Far beyondthem were those from      Mars V     , too freshly dead to have decayedmuch ... Anhauser with his rope cut, a bullet in his head; Jacobs andMarsha and the others ... Terrence much past them all. He had managedto climb higher than anyone else and he lay with his arms stretchedout, his fingers still clutching at rock outcroppings.     The trail they left wound over the ground, chipped in places for holds,red elsewhere with blood from torn hands. Terrence was more than twelvemiles from the ship—horizontally.     Bruce lifted Marsha and carried her back over the rocky dust, into thefresh fragrance of the high grass, and across it to the shade and peacebeside the canal.     He put her down. She looked peaceful enough, more peaceful than thatother time, years ago, when the two of them seemed to have shared somuch, when the future had not yet destroyed her. He saw the shadow ofHelene bend across Marsha's face against the background of the silentlyflowing water of the cool, green canal.     You loved her?     Once, Bruce said. She might have been sane. They got her when shewas young. Too young to fight. But she would have, I think, if she'dbeen older when they got her.     He sat looking down at Marsha's face, and then at the water with theleaves floating down it.     '... And the springs that flow on the floor of the valley will neverseem fresh or clear for thinking of the glitter of the mountain waterin the feathery green of the year....'     He stood up, walked back with Helene along the canal toward the calmcity. He didn't look back.     They've all been dead quite a while, Bruce said wonderingly. YetI seemed to be hearing from Terrence until only a short time ago.Are—are the climbers still climbing—somewhere, Helene?     Who knows? Helene answered softly. Maybe. I doubt if even theMartians have the answer to that.     They entered the city.   <doc-sep>   THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN     By BRYCE WALTON     Illustrated by BOB HAYES     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction June 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        First one up this tallest summit in the Solar       System was a rotten egg ... a very rotten egg!        Bruce heard their feet on the gravel outside and got up reluctantly toopen the door for them. He'd been reading some of Byron's poems he'dsneaked aboard the ship; after that he had been on the point of dozingoff, and now one of those strangely realistic dreams would have to bepostponed for a while. Funny, those dreams. There were faces in them ofhuman beings, or of ghosts, and other forms that weren't human at all,but seemed real and alive—except that they were also just parts of alast unconscious desire to escape death. Maybe that was it.     'Oh that my young life were a lasting dream, my spirit not awakeningtill the beam of an eternity should bring the 'morrow, Bruce said. Hesmiled without feeling much of anything and added, Thanks, Mr. Poe.     Jacobs and Anhauser stood outside. The icy wind cut through and intoBruce, but he didn't seem to notice. Anhauser's bulk loomed even largerin the special cold-resisting suiting. Jacobs' thin face frowned slylyat Bruce.     Come on in, boys, and get warm, Bruce invited.     Hey, poet, you're still here! Anhauser said, looking astonished.     We thought you'd be running off somewhere, Jacobs said.     Bruce reached for the suit on its hook, started climbing into it.Where? he asked. Mars looks alike wherever you go. Where did youthink I'd be running to?     Any place just so it was away from here and us, Anhauser said.     I don't have to do that. You are going away from me. That takes careof that, doesn't it?     Ah, come on, get the hell out of there, Jacobs said. He pulled therevolver from its holster and pointed it at Bruce. We got to get somesleep. We're starting up that mountain at five in the morning.     I know, Bruce said. I'll be glad to see you climb the mountain.     Outside, in the weird light of the double moons, Bruce looked up at thegigantic overhang of the mountain. It was unbelievable. The mountaindidn't seem to belong here. He'd thought so when they'd first hit Marseight months back and discovered the other four rockets that had nevergot back to Earth—all lying side by side under the mountain's shadow,like little white chalk marks on a tallyboard.     They'd estimated its height at over 45,000 feet, which was a lot higherthan any mountain on Earth. Yet Mars was much older, geologically. Theentire face of the planet was smoothed into soft, undulating red hillsby erosion. And there in the middle of barren nothingness rose that oneincredible mountain. On certain nights when the stars were right, ithad seemed to Bruce as though it were pointing an accusing finger atEarth—or a warning one.  <doc-sep>Terrence said, why did you shoot Doran?     I didn't like him enough to take the nonsense he was handing me, andwhen he shot the— Bruce hesitated.     What? When he shot what?     Bruce felt an odd tingling in his stomach. The wind's voice seemed tosharpen and rise to a kind of wail.     All right, I'll tell you. I was sleeping, having a dream. Doran wokeme up. Marsha was with him. I'd forgotten about that geological job wewere supposed to be working on. I've had these dreams ever since we gothere.     What kind of dreams?     Someone laughed.     Just fantastic stuff. Ask your Pavlovian there, Bruce said. Peopletalk to me, and there are other things in the dreams. Voices and somekind of shapes that aren't what you would call human at all.     Someone coughed. There was obvious embarrassment in the room.     It's peculiar, but many faces and voices are those of crew members ofsome of the ships out there, the ones that never got back to Earth.     Terrence grinned. Ghosts, Bruce?     Maybe. This planet may not be a dead ball of clay. I've had a feelingthere's something real in the dreams, but I can't figure it out.You're still interested?     Terrence nodded and glanced to either side.     We've seen no indication of any kind of life whatsoever, Brucepointed out. Not even an insect, or any kind of plant life except somefungi and lichen down in the crevices. That never seemed logical to mefrom the start. We've covered the planet everywhere except one place—     The mountain, Terrence said. You've been afraid even to talk aboutscaling it.     Not afraid, Bruce objected. I don't see any need to climb it. Comingto Mars, conquering space, isn't that enough? It happens that the crewof the first ship here decided to climb the mountain, and that set aprecedent. Every ship that has come here has had to climb it. Why?Because they had to accept the challenge. And what's happened to them?Like you, they all had the necessary equipment to make a successfulclimb, but no one's ever come back down. No contact with anything upthere.     Captain, I'm not accepting a ridiculous challenge like that. Whyshould I? I didn't come here to conquer anything, even a mountain. Thechallenge of coming to Mars, of going on to where ever you guys intendgoing before something bigger than you are stops you—it doesn'tinterest me.     Nothing's bigger than the destiny of Earth! Terrence said, sitting upstraight and rigid.     I know, Bruce said. Anyway, I got off the track. As I was saying,I woke up from this dream and Marsha and Doran were there. Doran wasshaking me. But I didn't seem to have gotten entirely awake; eitherthat or some part of the dream was real, because I looked out thewindow—something was out there, looking at me. It was late, and atfirst I thought it might be a shadow. But it wasn't. It was misty,almost translucent, but I think it was something alive. I had a feelingit was intelligent, maybe very intelligent. I could feel something inmy mind. A kind of beauty and softness and warmth. I kept looking—     His throat was getting tight. He had difficulty talking. Doran askedme what I was looking at, and I told him. He laughed. But he looked.Then I realized that maybe I wasn't still dreaming. Doran saw it, too,or thought he did. He kept looking and finally he jumped and grabbed uphis rifle and ran outside. I yelled at him. I kept on yelling and ranafter him. 'It's intelligent, whatever it is!' I kept saying. 'How doyou know it means any harm?' But I heard Doran's rifle go off before Icould get to him. And whatever it was we saw, I didn't see it any more.Neither did Doran. Maybe he killed it. I don't know. He had to kill it.That's the way you think.     What? Explain that remark.     That's the philosophy of conquest—don't take any chances withaliens. They might hinder our advance across the Universe. So we killeverything. Doran acted without thinking at all. Conditioned to killeverything that doesn't look like us. So I hit Doran and took the gunaway from him and killed him. I felt sick, crazy with rage. Maybethat's part of it. All I know is that I thought he deserved to die andthat I had to kill him, so I did.     Is that all, Bruce?     That's about all. Except that I'd like to kill all of you. And I wouldif I had the chance.     That's what I figured. Terrence turned to the psychologist, a smallwiry man who sat there constantly fingering his ear. Stromberg, whatdo you think of this gobbledegook? We know he's crazy. But what hithim? You said his record was good up until a year ago.     Stromberg's voice was monotonous, like a voice off of a tape.Schizophrenia with mingled delusions of persecution. The schizophreniais caused by inner conflict—indecision between the older values andour present ones which he hasn't been able to accept. A complete casehistory would tell why he can't accept our present attitudes. I wouldsay that he has an incipient fear of personal inadequacy, which is whyhe fears our desire for conquest. He's rationalized, built up a defensewhich he's structured with his idealism, foundationed with Old Eravalues. Retreat into the past, an escape from his own present feelingsof inadequacy. Also, he escapes into these dream fantasies.     Yes, Terrence said. But how does that account for Doran's action?Doran must have seen something—     Doran's charts show high suggestibility under stress. Another weakpersonality eliminated. Let's regard it that way. He      imagined     he sawsomething. He glanced at Marsha. Did      you     see anything?     She hesitated, avoiding Bruce's eyes. Nothing at all. There wasn'tanything out there to see, except the dust and rocks. That's all thereis to see here. We could stay a million years and never see anythingelse. A shadow maybe—     All right, Terrence interrupted. Now, Bruce, you know the lawregulating the treatment of serious psycho cases in space?     Yes. Execution.     No facilities for handling such cases en route back to Earth.     I understand. No apologies necessary, Captain.     Terrence shifted his position. However, we've voted to grant youa kind of leniency. In exchange for a little further service fromyou, you can remain here on Mars after we leave. You'll be leftfood-concentrates to last a long time.     What kind of service?     Stay by the radio and take down what we report as we go up themountain.     Why not? Bruce said. You aren't certain you're coming back, then?     We might not, Terrence admitted calmly. Something's happened to theothers. We're going to find out what and we want it recorded. None ofus want to back down and stay here. You can take our reports as theycome in.     I'll do that, Bruce said. It should be interesting.  <doc-sep>With Jacobs and Anhauser and the remainder of the crew of the ship,      Mars V     , seven judges sat in a semi-circle and Bruce stood there infront of them for the inquest.     In the middle of the half-moon of inquisition, with his long legsstretched out and his hands folded on his belly, sat Captain Terrence.His uniform was black. On his arm was the silver fist insignia of theConqueror Corps. Marsha Rennels sat on the extreme right and now therewas no emotion at all on her trim, neat face.     He remembered her as she had been years ago, but at the moment hewasn't looking very hard to see anything on her face. It was too late.They had gotten her young and it was too late.     Terrence's big, square face frowned a little. Bruce was aware suddenlyof the sound of the bleak, never-ending wind against the plastileneshelter. He remembered the strange misty shapes that had come to him inhis dreams, the voices that had called to him, and how disappointed hehad been when he woke from them.     This is a mere formality, Terrence finally said, since we all knowyou killed Lieutenant Doran a few hours ago. Marsha saw you kill him.Whatever you say goes on the record, of course.     For whom? Bruce asked.     What kind of question is that? For the authorities on Earth when weget back.     When you get back? Like the crews of those other four ships outthere? Bruce laughed without much humor.     Terrence rubbed a palm across his lips, dropped the hand quickly againto his belly. You want to make a statement or not? You shot Doran inthe head with a rifle. No provocation for the attack. You've wastedenough of my time with your damn arguments and anti-social behavior.This is a democratic group. Everyone has his say. But you've said toomuch, and done too much. Freedom doesn't allow you to go around killingfellow crew-members!     Any idea that there was any democracy or freedom left died on Venus,Bruce said.     Now we get another lecture! Terrence exploded. He leaned forward.You're sick, Bruce. They did a bad psych job on you. They should neverhave sent you on this trip. We need strength, all the strength we canfind. You don't belong here.     I know, Bruce agreed indifferently. I was drafted for this trip. Itold them I shouldn't be brought along. I said I didn't want any partof it.     Because you're afraid. You're not Conqueror material. That's why youbacked down when we all voted to climb the mountain. And what the devildoes Venus—?     Max Drexel's freckles slipped into the creases across his highforehead. Haven't you heard him expounding on the injustice done tothe Venusian aborigines, Captain? If you haven't, you aren't thoroughlyeducated to the crackpot idealism still infecting certain people.     I haven't heard it, Terrence admitted. What injustice?     Bruce said, I guess it couldn't really be considered an injusticeany longer. Values have changed too much. Doran and I were part of thecrew of that first ship to hit Venus, five years ago. Remember? Oneof the New Era's more infamous dates. Drexel says the Venusians wereaborigines. No one ever got a chance to find out. We ran into thisvillage. No one knows how old it was. There were intelligent beingsthere. One community left on the whole planet, maybe a few thousandinhabitants. They made their last mistake when they came out to greetus. Without even an attempt at communication, they were wiped out. Thevillage was burned and everything alive in it was destroyed.     Bruce felt the old weakness coming into his knees, the sweat beginningto run down his face. He took a deep breath and stood there before thecold nihilistic stares of fourteen eyes.     No, Bruce said. I apologize. None of you know what I'm talkingabout.     Terrence nodded. You're psycho. It's as simple as that. They pick themost capable for these conquests. Even the flights are processes ofelimination. Eventually we get the very best, the most resilient, thereal conquering blood. You just don't pass, Bruce. Listen, what do youthink gives you the right to stand here in judgment against the lawsof the whole Solar System?     There are plenty on Earth who agree with me, Bruce said. I can saywhat I think now because you can't do more than kill me and you'll dothat regardless....     He stopped. This was ridiculous, a waste of his time. And theirs. Theyhad established a kind of final totalitarianism since the New Era. Thepsychologists, the Pavlovian Reflex boys, had done that. If you didn'twant to be reconditioned to fit into the social machine like a humanvacuum tube, you kept your mouth shut. And for many, when the mouth waskept shut long enough, the mind pretty well forgot what it had wantedto open the mouth for in the first place.     A minority in both segments of a world split into two factions.Both had been warring diplomatically and sometimes physically, forcenturies, clung to old ideas of freedom, democracy, self-determinism,individualism. To most, the words had no meaning now. It was a questionof which set of conquering heroes could conquer the most space first.So far, only Venus had fallen. They had done a good, thorough jobthere. Four ships had come to Mars and their crews had disappeared.This was the fifth attempt—  <doc-sep>For one shivery moment he knew fear. And then the fear went away, andhe was ashamed of what he had felt. What he had feared was gone now,and he knew it was gone for good and he would never have to fear itagain.     Look here, Bruce. I wondered how long it would take to get it throughthat thick poetic head of yours!     Get what? He began to suspect what it was all about now, but hewasn't quite sure yet.     Smoke? she said.     He took one of the cigarettes and she lighted it for him and put thelighter back into her pocket.     It's real nice here, she said. Isn't it?     I guess it's about perfect.     It'll be easy. Staying here, I mean. We won't be going to Earth everagain, you know.     I didn't      know     that, but I didn't      think     we ever would again.     We wouldn't want to anyway, would we, Bruce?     No.     He kept on looking at the place where the mountain had been. Or maybeit still was; he couldn't make up his mind yet. Which was and which wasnot? That barren icy world without life, or this?     '      Is all that we see or seem     ,' he whispered, half to himself, '      buta dream within a dream?     '     She laughed softly. Poe was ahead of his time, she said. You stilldon't get it, do you? You don't know what's been happening?     Maybe I don't.     She shrugged, and looked in the direction of the ships. Poor guys. Ican't feel much hatred toward them now. The Martians give you a lot ofunderstanding of the human mind—after they've accepted you, and afteryou've lived with them awhile. But the mountain climbers—we can seenow—it's just luck, chance, we weren't like them. A deviant is a childof chance.     Yes, Bruce said. There's a lot of people like us on Earth, butthey'll never get the chance—the chance we seem to have here, to livedecently....     You're beginning to see now which was the dream, she said andsmiled. But don't be pessimistic. Those people on Earth will get theirchance, too, one of these fine days. The Conquerors aren't getting far.Venus, and then Mars, and Mars is where they stop. They'll keep cominghere and climbing the mountain and finally there won't be any more. Itwon't take so long.     She rose to her toes and waved and yelled. Bruce saw Pietro and Marlenewalking hand in hand up the other side of the canal. They waved backand called and then pushed off into the water in a small boat, anddrifted away and out of sight around a gentle turn.     She took his arm and they walked along the canal toward where themountain had been, or still was—he didn't know.     A quarter of a mile beyond the canal, he saw the high mound of red,naked hill, corroded and ugly, rising up like a scar of the surroundinggreen.     She wasn't smiling now. There were shadows on her face as the pressureon his arm stopped him.     I was on the first ship and Marlene on the second. None like us on thethird, and on the fourth ship was Pietro. All the others had to climbthe mountain— She stopped talking for a moment, and then he felt thepressure of her fingers on his arm. I'm very glad you came on thefifth, she whispered. Are you glad now?     I'm very glad, he said.     The Martians tested us, she explained. They're masters of the mind.I guess they've been grinding along through the evolutionary milla darn long time, longer than we could estimate now. They learnedthe horror we're capable of from the first ship—the Conquerors,the climbers. The Martians knew more like them would come and go oninto space, killing, destroying for no other reason than their ownsickness. Being masters of the mind, the Martians are also capableof hypnosis—no, that's not really the word, only the closest ourlanguage comes to naming it. Suggestion so deep and strong that itseems real to one human or a million or a billion; there's no limit tothe number that can be influenced. What the people who came off thoseships saw wasn't real. It was partly what the Martians wanted them tosee and feel—but most of it, like the desire to climb the mountain,was as much a part of the Conquerors' own psychic drive as it was thesuggestion of the Martians.     She waved her arm slowly to describe a peak. The Martians made themountain real. So real that it could be seen from space, measured byinstruments ... even photographed and chipped for rock samples. Butyou'll see how that was done, Bruce, and realize that this and not themountain of the Conquerors is the reality of Mars. This is the Mars noConqueror will ever see.  <doc-sep>Bruce watched them go, away and up and around the immediate face ofthe mountain in the bleak cold of the Martian morning. He watched themdisappear behind a high ledge, tied together with plastic rope likeconvicts.     He stayed by the radio. He lost track of time and didn't care muchif he did. Sometimes he took a heavy sedative and slept. The sedativeprevented the dreams. He had an idea that the dreams might be sopleasant that he wouldn't wake up. He wanted to listen to Terrence aslong as the captain had anything to say. It was nothing but curiosity.     At fifteen thousand feet, Terrence reported only that they wereclimbing.     At twenty thousand feet, Terrence said, We're still climbing, andthat's all I can report, Bruce. It's worth coming to Mars for—toaccept a challenge like this!     At twenty-five thousand feet, Terrence reported, We've put on oxygenmasks. Jacobs and Drexel have developed some kind of altitude sicknessand we're taking a little time out. It's a magnificent sight up here. Ican imagine plenty of tourists coming to Mars one of these days, justto climb this mountain! Mt. Everest is a pimple compared with this!What a feeling of power, Bruce!     From forty thousand feet, Terrence said, We gauged this mountainat forty-five thousand. But here we are at forty and there doesn'tseem to be any top. We can see up and up and the mountain keeps ongoing. I don't understand how we could have made such an error in ourcomputations. I talked with Burton. He doesn't see how a mountain thishigh could still be here when the rest of the planet has been worn sosmooth.     And then from fifty-three thousand feet, Terrence said with a voicethat seemed slightly strained: No sign of any of the crew of the otherfour ships yet. Ten in each crew, that makes fifty. Not a sign of anyof them so far, but then we seem to have a long way left to climb—     Bruce listened and noted and took sedatives and opened cans of foodconcentrates. He smoked and ate and slept. He had plenty of time. Hehad only time and the dreams which he knew he could utilize later totake care of the time.     From sixty thousand feet, Terrence reported, I had to shoot Anhausera few minutes ago! He was dissenting. Hear that, Bruce? One of my mostdependable men. We took a vote. A mere formality, of course, whetherwe should continue climbing or not. We knew we'd all vote to keep onclimbing. And then Anhauser dissented. He was hysterical. He refusedto accept the majority decision. 'I'm going back down!' he yelled.So I had to shoot him. Imagine a man of his apparent caliber turninganti-democratic like that! This mountain will be a great tester forus in the future. We'll test everybody, find out quickly who theweaklings are.     Bruce listened to the wind. It seemed to rise higher and higher.Terrence, who had climbed still higher, was calling. Think of it! Whata conquest! No man's ever done a thing like this. Like Stromberg says,it's symbolic! We can build spaceships and reach other planets, butthat's not actual physical conquest. We feel like gods up here. We cansee what we are now. We can see how it's going to be—     Once in a while Terrence demanded that Bruce say something to prove hewas still there taking down what Terrence said. Bruce obliged. A longtime passed, the way time does when no one cares. Bruce stopped takingthe sedatives finally. The dreams came back and became, somehow, morereal each time. He needed the companionship of the dreams.     It was very lonely sitting there without the dreams, with nothing butTerrence's voice ranting excitedly on and on. Terrence didn't seem realany more; certainly not as real as the dreams.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you describe the connection between Bruce and Marsha in THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the importance of the highest peak? [SEP] <s>Roddie awoke as Ida finished struggling free of his unconscious grip.Limping, he joined her painful walk around the tower. From its openingsthey looked out on a strange and isolated world.     To the north, where Ida seemed drawn as though by instinct, MountTamalpais reared its brushy head, a looming island above a billowywhite sea of fog. To the south were the Twin Peaks, a pair of buttonson a cotton sheet. Eastward lay Mount Diablo, bald and brooding,tallest of the peaks and most forbidding.     But westward over the ocean lay the land of gold—of all the kinds ofgold there are, from brightest yellow to deepest orange. Only a smallportion of the setting sun glared above the fog-bank; the rest seemedto have been broken off and smeared around by a child in love with itscolor.     Fascinated, Roddie stared for minutes, but turned when Ida showed nointerest. She was intent on the tower itself. Following her eyes,Roddie saw his duty made suddenly clear.     Easy to make out even in the fading light was the route by whichInvaders could cross to the foot of this tower on the remaining ruinsof the road, climb to where he now stood, and then descend the cableover the bridge's gap and catch the city unaware. Easy to estimate wasthe advantage of even this perilous route over things that scattered onthe water and prevented a landing in strength. Easy to see was the needto kill Ida before she carried home this knowledge.     Roddie took the hammer from his waist.     Don't! Oh, don't! Ida screamed. She burst into tears and covered herface with scratched and bloodied hands.     Surprised, Roddie withheld the blow. He had wept, as a child, and,weeping, had for the first time learned he differed from his friends.Ida's tears disturbed him, bringing unhappy memories.     Why should you cry? he asked comfortingly. You know your people willcome back to avenge you and will destroy my friends.     But—but my people are your people, too, Ida wailed. It's sosenseless, now, after all our struggle to escape. Don't you see? Yourfriends are only machines, built by our ancestors. We are Men—and thecity is ours, not theirs!     It      can't     be, Roddie objected. The city surely belongs to thosewho are superior, and my friends are superior to your people, even tome. Each of      us     has a purpose, though, while you Invaders seem to beaimless. Each of      us     helps preserve the city; you only try to rob andend it by destroying it.      My     people must be the true Men, becausethey're so much more rational than yours.... And it isn't rational tolet you escape.     Ida had turned up her tear-streaked face to stare at him.     Rational! What's rational about murdering a defenseless girl incold blood? Don't you realize we're the same sort of being, we two?Don't—don't you remember how we've been with each other all day?     She paused. Roddie noticed that her eyes were dark and frightened, yetsomehow soft, over scarlet cheeks. He had to look away. But he saidnothing.     Never mind! Ida said viciously. You can't make me beg. Go ahead andkill—see if it proves you're superior. My people will take over thecity regardless of you and me, and regardless of your jumping-jackfriends, too! Men can accomplish anything!  <doc-sep>It became evident, too, that the bombardment was being kept up by aconstant arrival of fresh attackers, while others raced away intospace, presumably returning to base to replenish their ammunition. Thatargued a planned and prepared interception with virulent hatred behindit.     Elsuz Llug, the gravitic engineer, calculated dismally, At the ratewe're having to shed energy, the fuel will be gone in six or eighthours.     We'll have reached Earth before then, Gwar Den said hopefully.     If they don't bring out the heavy artillery first.     We're under the psychological disadvantage, said the captain, of notknowing why we're being attacked.     Knof Jr. burst out, spluttering slightly with the violence of athought too important to suppress, But we're under a ps-psychologicaladvantage, too!     His father raised an eyebrow. What's that? I don't seem to havenoticed it.     They're mad and we aren't, yet, said the boy. Then, seeing that hehadn't made himself clear, In a fight, if a guy gets mad he startsswinging wild and then you nail him.     Smiles splintered the ice of tension. Captain Llud said, Maybe you'vegot something there. They seem to be mad, all right. But we're not ina position to throw any punches. He turned back to the others. As Iwas going to say—I think we'd better try to parley with the enemy. Atleast we may find out who he is and why he's determined to smash us.     And now instead of tight-beam detectors the ship was broadcasting on anaudio carrier wave that shifted through a wide range of frequencies,repeating on each the same brief recorded message:     Who are you? What do you want? We are the interstellar expedition      Quest III     .... And so on, identifying themselves and protesting thatthey were unarmed and peaceful, that there must be some mistake, andquerying again, Who are      you     ?     There was no answer. The ship drove on, its fuel trickling away undermultiplied demands. Those outside were squandering vastly greateramounts of energy in the effort to batter down its defenses, butconverting that energy into harmless gravitic impulses was costing the      Quest III     too. Once more Knof Llud had the insidious sense of his ownnerves and muscles and will weakening along with the power-sinews ofhis ship.     Zost Relyul approached him apologetically. If you have time,Captain—I've got some data on Earth now.     Eagerly Llud took the sheaf of photographs made with the telescope. Butthey told him nothing; only the continental outlines were clear, andthose were as they had been nine hundred years ago.... He looked upinquiringly at Zost Relyul.     There are some strange features, said the astronomer carefully.First of all—there are no lights on the night side. And on thedaylight face, our highest magnification should already reveal tracesof cities, canals, and the like—but it does not.     The prevailing color of the land masses, you see, is the normalgreen vegetation. But the diffraction spectrum is queer. It indicatesreflecting surfaces less than one-tenth millimeter wide—so thevegetation there can't be trees or grass, but must be more like a finemoss or even a coarse mold.     Is that all? demanded Llud.     Isn't it enough? said Zost Relyul blankly. Well—we triedphotography by invisible light, of course. The infra-red shows nothingand likewise the ultraviolet up to the point where the atmosphere isopaque to it.     The captain sighed wearily. Good work, he said. Keep it up; perhapsyou can answer some of these riddles before—           We know who you are     , interrupted a harshly crackling voice with astrange accent,       and pleading will do you no good.       <doc-sep>He stared at the radio. He hesitated, reached out and switched on themike. He got through to her.     Hello, hello, darling, he whispered. Marsha, can you hear me?     Yes, yes. You down there, all warm and cozy, reading poetry, darling.Where you can see both ways instead of just up and down, up and down.     He tried to imagine where she was now as he spoke to her, how shelooked. He thought of Earth and how it had been there, years ago, withMarsha. Things had seemed so different then. There was something ofthat hope in his voice now as he spoke to her, yet not directly to her,as he looked out the window at the naked frigid sky and the barrenrocks.   '... and there is nowhere to go from the top of a mountain, But down, my dear; And the springs that flow on the floor of the valley Will never seem fresh or clear For thinking of the glitter of the mountain water In the feathery green of the year....'    The wind stormed over the shelter in a burst of power, buried the soundof his own voice.     Marsha, are you still there?     What the devil's the idea, poetry at a time like this, or any time?Terrence demanded. Listen, you taking this down? We haven't run intoany signs of the others. Six hundred thousand feet, Bruce! We feel ourdestiny. We conquer the Solar System. And we'll go out and out, andwe'll climb the highest mountain, the highest mountain anywhere. We'regoing up and up. We've voted on it. Unanimous. We go on. On to thetop, Bruce! Nothing can stop us. If it takes ten years, a hundred, athousand years, we'll find it. We'll find the top! Not the top of thisworld—the top of      everything     . The top of the  UNIVERSE  !     Later, Terrence's voice broke off in the middle of something orother—Bruce couldn't make any sense out of it at all—and turned intocrazy yells that faded out and never came back.     Bruce figured the others might still be climbing somewhere, or maybethey were dead. Either way it wouldn't make any difference to him. Heknew they would never come back down.     He was switching off the radio for good when he saw the colorationbreak over the window. It was the same as the dream, but for aninstant, dream and reality seemed fused like two superimposed filmnegatives.     He went to the window and looked out. The comfortable little city wasout there, and the canal flowing past through a pleasantly cool yetsunny afternoon. Purple mist blanketed the knees of low hills and therewas a valley, green and rich with the trees high and full beside thesoftly flowing canal water.     The filmy shapes that seemed alive, that were partly translucent,drifted along the water's edge, and birds as delicate as colored glasswavered down the wind.     He opened the shelter door and went out. The shelter looked the same,but useless now. How did the shelter of that bleak world get into thisone, where the air was warm and fragrant, where there was no cold, fromthat world into this one of his dreams?     The girl—Helene—was standing there leaning against a tree, smoking acigarette.     He walked toward her, and stopped. In the dream it had been easy, butnow he was embarrassed, in spite of the intimacy that had grown betweenthem. She wore the same casual slacks and sandals. Her hair was brown.She was not particularly beautiful, but she was comfortable to look atbecause she seemed so peaceful. Content, happy with what was and onlywhat was.     He turned quickly. The shelter was still there, and behind it the rowof spaceships—not like chalk marks on a tallyboard now, but like oddrelics that didn't belong there in the thick green grass. Five shipsinstead of four.     There was his own individual shelter beyond the headquarters building,and the other buildings. He looked up.     There was no mountain.  <doc-sep>The officer picked up the dollar bill and fingered it with evidentinterest. He turned it over and studied the printing. United States ofAmerica, he read aloud. What are those?     It's the name of the country I come from, Jeff said carefully.I—uh—got on the wrong train, apparently, and must have come furtherthan I thought. What's the name of this place?     This is Costa, West Goodland, in the Continental Federation. Say, youmust come from an umpty remote part of the world if you don't knowabout this country. His eyes narrowed. Where'd you learn to speakFederal, if you come from so far?     Jeff said helplessly, I can't explain, if you don't know about theUnited States. Listen, can you take me to a bank, or some place wherethey know about foreign exchange?     The policeman scowled. How'd you get into this country, anyway? Yougot immigrate clearance?     An angry muttering started among the bystanders.     The policeman made up his mind. You come with me.     At the police station, Jeff put his elbows dejectedly on the highcounter while the policeman talked to an officer in charge. Some menwhom Jeff took for reporters got up from a table and eased over tolisten.     I don't know whether to charge them with fakemake, bumsy, peekage orlunate, the policeman said as he finished.     His superior gave Jeff a long puzzled stare.     Jeff sighed. I know it sounds impossible, but a man brought me insomething he claimed was a time traveler. You speak the same language Ido—more or less—but everything else is kind of unfamiliar. I belongin the United States, a country in North America. I can't believe I'mso far in the future that the United States has been forgotten.     There ensued a long, confused, inconclusive interrogation.     The man behind the desk asked questions which seemed stupid to Jeff andgot answers which probably seemed stupid to him.     The reporters quizzed Jeff gleefully. Come out, what are youadvertising? they kept asking. Who got you up to this?     The police puzzled over his driver's license and the other cards in hiswallet. They asked repeatedly about the lack of a Work License, whichJeff took to be some sort of union card. Evidently there was gravedoubt that he had any legal right to be in the country.     In the end, Jeff and Ann were locked in separate cells for the night.Jeff groaned and pounded the bars as he thought of his wife, imprisonedand alone in a smelly jail. After hours of pacing the cell, he lay downin the cot and reached automatically for his silver pillbox. Then hehesitated.     In past weeks, his insomnia had grown worse and worse, so that latelyhe had begun taking stronger pills. After a longing glance at thebig red and yellow capsules, he put the box away. Whatever tomorrowbrought, it wouldn't find him slow and drowsy.      IV     He passed a wakeful night. In the early morning, he looked up to see alittle man with a briefcase at his cell door.     Wish joy, Mr. Elliott, the man said coolly. I am one of Mr. Bullen'sbarmen. You know, represent at law? He sent me to arrange your release,if you are ready to be reasonable.     Jeff lay there and put his hands behind his head. I doubt if I'mready. I'm comfortable here. By the way, how did you know where I was?     No problem. When we read in this morning's newspapers about a manclaiming to be a time traveler, we knew.     All right. Now start explaining. Until I understand where I am, Bullenisn't getting me out of here.     The lawyer smiled and sat down. Mr. Kersey told you yesterday—you'vegone back six years. But you'll need some mental gymnastics tounderstand. Time is a dimension, not a stream of events like a moviefilm. A film never changes. Space does—and time does. For example, ifa movie showed a burning house at Sixth and Main, would you expect tofind a house burning whenever you returned to that corner?     You mean to say that if I went back to 1865, I wouldn't find the CivilWar was over and Lincoln had been assassinated?     If you go back to the time you call 1865—which is most easilydone—you will find that the people there know nothing of a Lincoln orthat war.     Jeff looked blank. What are they doing then?     The little man spread his hands. What are the people doing now atSixth and Main? Certainly not the same things they were doing the dayof the fire. We're talking about a dimension, not an event. Don't yougrasp the difference between the two?     Nope. To me, 1865 means the end of the Civil War. How else can youspeak of a point in time except by the events that happened then?     Well, if you go to a place in three-dimensional space—say, a lakein the mountains—how do you identify that place? By looking forlandmarks. It doesn't matter that an eagle is soaring over a mountainpeak. That's only an event. The peak is the landmark. You follow me?     So far. Keep talking.  <doc-sep>Extrone narrowed his eyes. I see by your eyes that you areenvious—that is the word, isn't it?—of my tent.     Ri looked away from his face.     Perhaps I'm envious of your reputation as a hunter. You see, I havenever killed a farn beast. In fact, I haven't      seen     a farn beast.     Ri glanced nervously around the tent, his sharp eyes avoiding Extrone'sglittering ones. Few people have seen them, sir.     Oh? Extrone questioned mildly. I wouldn't say that. I understandthat the aliens hunt them quite extensively ... on some of theirplanets.     I meant in our system, sir.     Of course you did, Extrone said, lazily tracing the crease of hissleeve with his forefinger. I imagine these are the only farn beastsin our system.     Ri waited uneasily, not answering.     Yes, Extrone said, I imagine they are. It would have been a shame ifyou had killed the last one. Don't you think so?     Ri's hands worried the sides of his outer garment. Yes, sir. It wouldhave been.     Extrone pursed his lips. It wouldn't have been very considerate of youto—But, still, you gained valuable experience. I'm glad you agreed tocome along as my guide.     It was an honor, sir.     Extrone's lip twisted in wry amusement. If I had waited until it wassafe for me to hunt on an alien planet, I would not have been able tofind such an illustrious guide.     ... I'm flattered, sir.     Of course, Extrone said. But you should have spoken to me about it,when you discovered the farn beast in our own system.     I realize that, sir. That is, I had intended at the first opportunity,sir....     Of course, Extrone said dryly. Like all of my subjects, he wavedhis hand in a broad gesture, the highest as well as the lowest slave,know me and love me. I know your intentions were the best.     Ri squirmed, his face pale. We do indeed love you, sir.     Extrone bent forward.       Know     me and love me.     Yes, sir.      Know     you and love you, sir, Ri said.     Get out! Extrone said.  <doc-sep>I drew myself up to my full height—and noticed in irritation it wasstill an inch less than Quade's. I don't understand you men. Look atyourself, Quade. You've been busted to Ordinary Spaceman for just thatkind of thinking, for relying on tradition, on things that have workedbefore. Not only your thinking is slipshod, you've grown careless abouteverything else, even your own life.     Just a minute, Captain. I've never been 'busted.' In the ExplorationService, we regard Ordinary Spaceman as our highest rank. With myhazard pay, I get more hard cash than      you     do, and I'm closer toretirement.     That's a shallow excuse for complacency.     Complacency! I've seen ten thousand wonders in twenty years of space,with a million variations. But the patterns repeat themselves. We learnto know what to expect, so maybe we can't maintain the reactionarycaution the service likes in officers.     I resent the word 'reactionary,' Spaceman! In civilian life, I wasa lapidary and I learned the value of deliberation. But I never gottoo cataleptic to tap a million-dollar gem, which is more than mycontemporaries can say, many of 'em.     Captain Gavin, Quade said patiently, you must realize that anoutsider like you, among a crew of skilled spacemen, can never be morethan a figurehead.     Was this the way I was to be treated? Why, this man had deliberatelyinsulted me, his captain. I controlled myself, remembering thefamiliarity that had always existed between members of a crew workingunder close conditions, from the time of the ancient submarines and thefirst orbital ships.     Quade, I said, there's only one way for us to find out which of usis right about the cause of our scanning blackout.     We go out and find the reason.     Exactly. We go. You and me. I hope you can stand my company.     I'm not sure I can, he answered reluctantly. My hazard pay doesn'tcover exploring with rookies. With all due respect, Captain.     I clapped him on the shoulder. But, man, you have just been tellingme all we had to worry about was common transphasia. A man with yourexperience could protect himself and cover even a rookie, under suchfamiliar conditions—right?     Yes, sir, I suppose I could, Quade said, bitterly aware he had lostout somewhere and hoping that it wasn't the start of a trend.  <doc-sep>I didn't exactly talk back, but in the queer way of the dream, I      thought     objections. I was in my thirties, at the mid-point of mylife, and the whole of that life had been spent under the State. I knewno other way to act. Suppressing what little individuality I mighthave was, for me, a way of survival. I was chockful of prescribed,stereotyped reactions, and I held onto them even when something withinme told me what they were. This wasn't easy, this breaking away, noteven this slight departure from the secure, camouflaged norm....           The woman, Lara, attracts you     , said the voice.     I suppose at that point I twitched or rolled in my sleep. Yes, thevoice was right, the woman Lara attracted me. So much that I ached withit.           Take her. Find a way. When you succeed in changing your name, andknow that you can do things, then find a way. There will be a way.          The idea at once thrilled and frightened me.     I woke writhing and in a sweat again.     It was morning.     I dressed and headed for the jetcopter stage and the ship for CenterOne.     The ship was comfortable and departed on time, a transport with seatsfor about twenty passengers. I sat near the tail and moodily busiedmyself watching the gaunt brown earth far below. Between Centers therewas mostly desert, only occasional patches of green. Before the atomicdecade, I had heard, nearly all the earth was green and teemed withlife ... birds, insects, animals, people, too. It was hard rock andsand now, with a few scrubs hanging on for life. The pre-atomics, whohadn't mastered synthesization, would have a hard time scratchingexistence from the earth today.     I tried to break the sad mood, and started to look around at some ofthe other passengers. That was when I first noticed the prisonersin the forward seats. Man and woman, they were, a youngish, rathernon-descript couple, thin, very quiet. They were manacled and twoDeacons sat across from them. The Deacons' backs were turned to me andI could see the prisoners' faces.     They had curious faces. Their eyes were indescribably sad, and yettheir lips seemed to be ready to smile at any moment.     They were holding hands, not seeming to care about this vulgaremotional display.     I had the sudden crazy idea that Lara and I were sitting there, holdinghands like that, nonconforming in the highest, and that we werewonderfully happy. Our eyes were sad too, but we were really happy,quietly happy, and that was why our lips stayed upon the brink of asmile.  <doc-sep>She shrugged. We have friends who can be bribed. A hiding place in thecity, the use of a small desert-taxi, a pass to leave the city—thesecan be had for a price.     You'll tell me your name?     Maggie.     Why did you save me?     Her eyes twinkled mischievously. Because you're a good astrogator.     His own eyes widened. How did you know that?     She sat on a plain chair beside his bed. I know everything about you,Lieutenant Curtis.     How did you learn my name? I destroyed all my papers—     I know that you're twenty-four. Born July 10, 1971. Orphaned at four,you attended Boys Town in the Catskills till you were 19. You graduatedfrom the Academy at White Sands last June with a major in Astrogation.Your rating for the five-year period was 3.8—the second highest in aclass of fifty-seven. Your only low mark in the five years was a 3.2 inHistory of Martian Civilization. Want me to go on?     Fascinated, Ben nodded.     You were accepted as junior astrogation officer aboard the      Odyssey     .You did well on your flight from Roswell to Luna City. In a barroomfight in Luna City, you struck and killed a man named Arthur Cobb, apre-fab salesman. You've been charged with second degree murder andescape. A reward of 5,000 credits has been offered for your capture.You came to Hoover City in the hope of finding a renegade group ofspacemen who operate beyond Mars. You were looking for them in theBlast Inn.     He gaped incredulously, struggling to rise from his pillows. I—don'tget it.     There are ways of finding out what we want to know. As I told you, wehave many friends.     He fell back into his pillows, breathing hard. She rose quickly.     I'm sorry, she said. I shouldn't have told you yet. I felt so happybecause you're alive. Rest now. We'll talk again soon.     Maggie, you—you said I'd live. You didn't say I'd be able to walkagain.     She lowered her gaze. I hope you'll be able to.     But you don't think I will, do you?     I don't know. We'll try walking tomorrow. Don't think about it now.Rest.     He tried to relax, but his mind was a vortex of conjecture.     Just one more question, he almost whispered.     Yes?     The man I killed—did he have a wife?     She hesitated. He thought,      Damn it, of all the questions, why did Iask that?       Finally she said, He had a wife.     Children?     Two. I don't know their ages.     She left the room.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the importance of the highest peak?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How does Terrence's journey unfold in THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN? [SEP] <s>The problem of where to put the line between dream and reality began toworry Bruce. He would wake up and listen and take down what Terrencewas saying, and then go to sleep again with increasing expectancy. Hisdream took on continuity. He could return to the point where he hadleft it, and it was the same—allowing even for the time differencenecessitated by his periods of sleep.     He met people in the dreams, two girls and a man. They had names:Pietro, Marlene, Helene.     Helene he had seen from the beginning, but she became more real tohim all the time, until he could talk with her. After that, he couldalso talk with Marlene and Pietro, and the conversations made sense.Consistently, they made sense.     The Martian landscape was entirely different in the dreams. Greenvalleys and rivers, or actually wide canals, with odd trees trailingtheir branches on the slow, peacefully gliding currents. Here and therewere pastel-colored cities and there were things drifting through themthat were alive and intelligent and soft and warm and wonderful to know.     '      ... dreams, in their vivid coloring of life, as in that fleeting,shadowy, misty strife of semblance with reality which brings to thedelirious eye more lovely things of paradise and love—and all ourown!—than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known....     '     So sometimes he read poetry, but even that was hardly equal to thedreams.     And then he would wake up and listen to Terrence's voice. He wouldlook out the window over the barren frigid land where there was nothingbut seams of worn land, like scabs under the brazen sky.     If I had a choice, he thought, I wouldn't ever wake up at all again.The dreams may not be more real, but they're preferable.     Dreams were supposed to be wishful thinking, primarily, but hecouldn't live in them very long. His body would dry up and he woulddie. He had to stay awake enough to put a little energy back intohimself. Of course, if he died and lost the dreams, there would be onecompensation—he would also be free of Terrence and the rest of themwho had learned that the only value in life lay in killing one's wayacross the Cosmos.     But then he had a feeling Terrence's voice wouldn't be annoying himmuch more anyway. The voice was unreal, coming out of some void. Hecould switch off Terrence any time now, but he was still curious.     Bruce—Bruce, you still there? Listen, we're up here at what we figureto be five hundred thousand feet! It      is     impossible. We keep climbingand now we look up and we can see up and up and there the mountain isgoing up and up—     And some time later: Bruce, Marsha's dying! We don't know what's thematter. We can't find any reason for it. She's lying here and she keepslaughing and calling your name. She's a woman, so that's probably it.Women don't have real guts.     Bruce bent toward the radio. Outside the shelter, the wind whistledsoftly at the door.     Marsha, he said.     Bruce—     She hadn't said his name that way for a long time.     Marsha, remember how we used to talk about human values? I rememberhow you seemed to have something maybe different from the others. Inever thought you'd really buy this will to conquer, and now it doesn'tmatter....     He listened to her voice, first the crazy laughter, and then a whisper.Bruce, hello down there. Her voice was all mixed up with fear andhysteria and mockery. Bruce darling, are you lonely down there? I wishI were with you, safe ... free ... warm. I love you. Do you hear that?I really love you, after all. After all....       Her voice drifted away, came back to him. We're climbing the highestmountain. What are you doing there, relaxing where it's peaceful andwarm and sane? You always were such a calm guy. I remember now. Whatare you doing—reading poetry while we climb the mountain? What wasthat, Bruce—that one about the mountain you tried to quote to me lastnight before you ... I can't remember it now. Darling, what...?  <doc-sep>He stared at the radio. He hesitated, reached out and switched on themike. He got through to her.     Hello, hello, darling, he whispered. Marsha, can you hear me?     Yes, yes. You down there, all warm and cozy, reading poetry, darling.Where you can see both ways instead of just up and down, up and down.     He tried to imagine where she was now as he spoke to her, how shelooked. He thought of Earth and how it had been there, years ago, withMarsha. Things had seemed so different then. There was something ofthat hope in his voice now as he spoke to her, yet not directly to her,as he looked out the window at the naked frigid sky and the barrenrocks.   '... and there is nowhere to go from the top of a mountain, But down, my dear; And the springs that flow on the floor of the valley Will never seem fresh or clear For thinking of the glitter of the mountain water In the feathery green of the year....'    The wind stormed over the shelter in a burst of power, buried the soundof his own voice.     Marsha, are you still there?     What the devil's the idea, poetry at a time like this, or any time?Terrence demanded. Listen, you taking this down? We haven't run intoany signs of the others. Six hundred thousand feet, Bruce! We feel ourdestiny. We conquer the Solar System. And we'll go out and out, andwe'll climb the highest mountain, the highest mountain anywhere. We'regoing up and up. We've voted on it. Unanimous. We go on. On to thetop, Bruce! Nothing can stop us. If it takes ten years, a hundred, athousand years, we'll find it. We'll find the top! Not the top of thisworld—the top of      everything     . The top of the  UNIVERSE  !     Later, Terrence's voice broke off in the middle of something orother—Bruce couldn't make any sense out of it at all—and turned intocrazy yells that faded out and never came back.     Bruce figured the others might still be climbing somewhere, or maybethey were dead. Either way it wouldn't make any difference to him. Heknew they would never come back down.     He was switching off the radio for good when he saw the colorationbreak over the window. It was the same as the dream, but for aninstant, dream and reality seemed fused like two superimposed filmnegatives.     He went to the window and looked out. The comfortable little city wasout there, and the canal flowing past through a pleasantly cool yetsunny afternoon. Purple mist blanketed the knees of low hills and therewas a valley, green and rich with the trees high and full beside thesoftly flowing canal water.     The filmy shapes that seemed alive, that were partly translucent,drifted along the water's edge, and birds as delicate as colored glasswavered down the wind.     He opened the shelter door and went out. The shelter looked the same,but useless now. How did the shelter of that bleak world get into thisone, where the air was warm and fragrant, where there was no cold, fromthat world into this one of his dreams?     The girl—Helene—was standing there leaning against a tree, smoking acigarette.     He walked toward her, and stopped. In the dream it had been easy, butnow he was embarrassed, in spite of the intimacy that had grown betweenthem. She wore the same casual slacks and sandals. Her hair was brown.She was not particularly beautiful, but she was comfortable to look atbecause she seemed so peaceful. Content, happy with what was and onlywhat was.     He turned quickly. The shelter was still there, and behind it the rowof spaceships—not like chalk marks on a tallyboard now, but like oddrelics that didn't belong there in the thick green grass. Five shipsinstead of four.     There was his own individual shelter beyond the headquarters building,and the other buildings. He looked up.     There was no mountain.  <doc-sep>Bruce watched them go, away and up and around the immediate face ofthe mountain in the bleak cold of the Martian morning. He watched themdisappear behind a high ledge, tied together with plastic rope likeconvicts.     He stayed by the radio. He lost track of time and didn't care muchif he did. Sometimes he took a heavy sedative and slept. The sedativeprevented the dreams. He had an idea that the dreams might be sopleasant that he wouldn't wake up. He wanted to listen to Terrence aslong as the captain had anything to say. It was nothing but curiosity.     At fifteen thousand feet, Terrence reported only that they wereclimbing.     At twenty thousand feet, Terrence said, We're still climbing, andthat's all I can report, Bruce. It's worth coming to Mars for—toaccept a challenge like this!     At twenty-five thousand feet, Terrence reported, We've put on oxygenmasks. Jacobs and Drexel have developed some kind of altitude sicknessand we're taking a little time out. It's a magnificent sight up here. Ican imagine plenty of tourists coming to Mars one of these days, justto climb this mountain! Mt. Everest is a pimple compared with this!What a feeling of power, Bruce!     From forty thousand feet, Terrence said, We gauged this mountainat forty-five thousand. But here we are at forty and there doesn'tseem to be any top. We can see up and up and the mountain keeps ongoing. I don't understand how we could have made such an error in ourcomputations. I talked with Burton. He doesn't see how a mountain thishigh could still be here when the rest of the planet has been worn sosmooth.     And then from fifty-three thousand feet, Terrence said with a voicethat seemed slightly strained: No sign of any of the crew of the otherfour ships yet. Ten in each crew, that makes fifty. Not a sign of anyof them so far, but then we seem to have a long way left to climb—     Bruce listened and noted and took sedatives and opened cans of foodconcentrates. He smoked and ate and slept. He had plenty of time. Hehad only time and the dreams which he knew he could utilize later totake care of the time.     From sixty thousand feet, Terrence reported, I had to shoot Anhausera few minutes ago! He was dissenting. Hear that, Bruce? One of my mostdependable men. We took a vote. A mere formality, of course, whetherwe should continue climbing or not. We knew we'd all vote to keep onclimbing. And then Anhauser dissented. He was hysterical. He refusedto accept the majority decision. 'I'm going back down!' he yelled.So I had to shoot him. Imagine a man of his apparent caliber turninganti-democratic like that! This mountain will be a great tester forus in the future. We'll test everybody, find out quickly who theweaklings are.     Bruce listened to the wind. It seemed to rise higher and higher.Terrence, who had climbed still higher, was calling. Think of it! Whata conquest! No man's ever done a thing like this. Like Stromberg says,it's symbolic! We can build spaceships and reach other planets, butthat's not actual physical conquest. We feel like gods up here. We cansee what we are now. We can see how it's going to be—     Once in a while Terrence demanded that Bruce say something to prove hewas still there taking down what Terrence said. Bruce obliged. A longtime passed, the way time does when no one cares. Bruce stopped takingthe sedatives finally. The dreams came back and became, somehow, morereal each time. He needed the companionship of the dreams.     It was very lonely sitting there without the dreams, with nothing butTerrence's voice ranting excitedly on and on. Terrence didn't seem realany more; certainly not as real as the dreams.  <doc-sep>Terrence said, why did you shoot Doran?     I didn't like him enough to take the nonsense he was handing me, andwhen he shot the— Bruce hesitated.     What? When he shot what?     Bruce felt an odd tingling in his stomach. The wind's voice seemed tosharpen and rise to a kind of wail.     All right, I'll tell you. I was sleeping, having a dream. Doran wokeme up. Marsha was with him. I'd forgotten about that geological job wewere supposed to be working on. I've had these dreams ever since we gothere.     What kind of dreams?     Someone laughed.     Just fantastic stuff. Ask your Pavlovian there, Bruce said. Peopletalk to me, and there are other things in the dreams. Voices and somekind of shapes that aren't what you would call human at all.     Someone coughed. There was obvious embarrassment in the room.     It's peculiar, but many faces and voices are those of crew members ofsome of the ships out there, the ones that never got back to Earth.     Terrence grinned. Ghosts, Bruce?     Maybe. This planet may not be a dead ball of clay. I've had a feelingthere's something real in the dreams, but I can't figure it out.You're still interested?     Terrence nodded and glanced to either side.     We've seen no indication of any kind of life whatsoever, Brucepointed out. Not even an insect, or any kind of plant life except somefungi and lichen down in the crevices. That never seemed logical to mefrom the start. We've covered the planet everywhere except one place—     The mountain, Terrence said. You've been afraid even to talk aboutscaling it.     Not afraid, Bruce objected. I don't see any need to climb it. Comingto Mars, conquering space, isn't that enough? It happens that the crewof the first ship here decided to climb the mountain, and that set aprecedent. Every ship that has come here has had to climb it. Why?Because they had to accept the challenge. And what's happened to them?Like you, they all had the necessary equipment to make a successfulclimb, but no one's ever come back down. No contact with anything upthere.     Captain, I'm not accepting a ridiculous challenge like that. Whyshould I? I didn't come here to conquer anything, even a mountain. Thechallenge of coming to Mars, of going on to where ever you guys intendgoing before something bigger than you are stops you—it doesn'tinterest me.     Nothing's bigger than the destiny of Earth! Terrence said, sitting upstraight and rigid.     I know, Bruce said. Anyway, I got off the track. As I was saying,I woke up from this dream and Marsha and Doran were there. Doran wasshaking me. But I didn't seem to have gotten entirely awake; eitherthat or some part of the dream was real, because I looked out thewindow—something was out there, looking at me. It was late, and atfirst I thought it might be a shadow. But it wasn't. It was misty,almost translucent, but I think it was something alive. I had a feelingit was intelligent, maybe very intelligent. I could feel something inmy mind. A kind of beauty and softness and warmth. I kept looking—     His throat was getting tight. He had difficulty talking. Doran askedme what I was looking at, and I told him. He laughed. But he looked.Then I realized that maybe I wasn't still dreaming. Doran saw it, too,or thought he did. He kept looking and finally he jumped and grabbed uphis rifle and ran outside. I yelled at him. I kept on yelling and ranafter him. 'It's intelligent, whatever it is!' I kept saying. 'How doyou know it means any harm?' But I heard Doran's rifle go off before Icould get to him. And whatever it was we saw, I didn't see it any more.Neither did Doran. Maybe he killed it. I don't know. He had to kill it.That's the way you think.     What? Explain that remark.     That's the philosophy of conquest—don't take any chances withaliens. They might hinder our advance across the Universe. So we killeverything. Doran acted without thinking at all. Conditioned to killeverything that doesn't look like us. So I hit Doran and took the gunaway from him and killed him. I felt sick, crazy with rage. Maybethat's part of it. All I know is that I thought he deserved to die andthat I had to kill him, so I did.     Is that all, Bruce?     That's about all. Except that I'd like to kill all of you. And I wouldif I had the chance.     That's what I figured. Terrence turned to the psychologist, a smallwiry man who sat there constantly fingering his ear. Stromberg, whatdo you think of this gobbledegook? We know he's crazy. But what hithim? You said his record was good up until a year ago.     Stromberg's voice was monotonous, like a voice off of a tape.Schizophrenia with mingled delusions of persecution. The schizophreniais caused by inner conflict—indecision between the older values andour present ones which he hasn't been able to accept. A complete casehistory would tell why he can't accept our present attitudes. I wouldsay that he has an incipient fear of personal inadequacy, which is whyhe fears our desire for conquest. He's rationalized, built up a defensewhich he's structured with his idealism, foundationed with Old Eravalues. Retreat into the past, an escape from his own present feelingsof inadequacy. Also, he escapes into these dream fantasies.     Yes, Terrence said. But how does that account for Doran's action?Doran must have seen something—     Doran's charts show high suggestibility under stress. Another weakpersonality eliminated. Let's regard it that way. He      imagined     he sawsomething. He glanced at Marsha. Did      you     see anything?     She hesitated, avoiding Bruce's eyes. Nothing at all. There wasn'tanything out there to see, except the dust and rocks. That's all thereis to see here. We could stay a million years and never see anythingelse. A shadow maybe—     All right, Terrence interrupted. Now, Bruce, you know the lawregulating the treatment of serious psycho cases in space?     Yes. Execution.     No facilities for handling such cases en route back to Earth.     I understand. No apologies necessary, Captain.     Terrence shifted his position. However, we've voted to grant youa kind of leniency. In exchange for a little further service fromyou, you can remain here on Mars after we leave. You'll be leftfood-concentrates to last a long time.     What kind of service?     Stay by the radio and take down what we report as we go up themountain.     Why not? Bruce said. You aren't certain you're coming back, then?     We might not, Terrence admitted calmly. Something's happened to theothers. We're going to find out what and we want it recorded. None ofus want to back down and stay here. You can take our reports as theycome in.     I'll do that, Bruce said. It should be interesting.  <doc-sep>They walked toward the ugly red mound that jutted above the green. Whenthey came close enough, he saw the bodies lying there ... the remains,actually, of what had once been bodies. He felt too sickened to go onwalking.     It may seem cruel now, she said, but the Martians realized thatthere is no cure for the will to conquer. There is no safety from it,either, as the people of Earth and Venus discovered, unless it isgiven an impossible obstacle to overcome. So the Martians provided theConquerors with a mountain. They themselves wanted to climb. They hadto.     He was hardly listening as he walked away from Helene toward the erodedhills. The crew members of the first four ships were skeletons tiedtogether with imperishably strong rope about their waists. Far beyondthem were those from      Mars V     , too freshly dead to have decayedmuch ... Anhauser with his rope cut, a bullet in his head; Jacobs andMarsha and the others ... Terrence much past them all. He had managedto climb higher than anyone else and he lay with his arms stretchedout, his fingers still clutching at rock outcroppings.     The trail they left wound over the ground, chipped in places for holds,red elsewhere with blood from torn hands. Terrence was more than twelvemiles from the ship—horizontally.     Bruce lifted Marsha and carried her back over the rocky dust, into thefresh fragrance of the high grass, and across it to the shade and peacebeside the canal.     He put her down. She looked peaceful enough, more peaceful than thatother time, years ago, when the two of them seemed to have shared somuch, when the future had not yet destroyed her. He saw the shadow ofHelene bend across Marsha's face against the background of the silentlyflowing water of the cool, green canal.     You loved her?     Once, Bruce said. She might have been sane. They got her when shewas young. Too young to fight. But she would have, I think, if she'dbeen older when they got her.     He sat looking down at Marsha's face, and then at the water with theleaves floating down it.     '... And the springs that flow on the floor of the valley will neverseem fresh or clear for thinking of the glitter of the mountain waterin the feathery green of the year....'     He stood up, walked back with Helene along the canal toward the calmcity. He didn't look back.     They've all been dead quite a while, Bruce said wonderingly. YetI seemed to be hearing from Terrence until only a short time ago.Are—are the climbers still climbing—somewhere, Helene?     Who knows? Helene answered softly. Maybe. I doubt if even theMartians have the answer to that.     They entered the city.   <doc-sep>With Jacobs and Anhauser and the remainder of the crew of the ship,      Mars V     , seven judges sat in a semi-circle and Bruce stood there infront of them for the inquest.     In the middle of the half-moon of inquisition, with his long legsstretched out and his hands folded on his belly, sat Captain Terrence.His uniform was black. On his arm was the silver fist insignia of theConqueror Corps. Marsha Rennels sat on the extreme right and now therewas no emotion at all on her trim, neat face.     He remembered her as she had been years ago, but at the moment hewasn't looking very hard to see anything on her face. It was too late.They had gotten her young and it was too late.     Terrence's big, square face frowned a little. Bruce was aware suddenlyof the sound of the bleak, never-ending wind against the plastileneshelter. He remembered the strange misty shapes that had come to him inhis dreams, the voices that had called to him, and how disappointed hehad been when he woke from them.     This is a mere formality, Terrence finally said, since we all knowyou killed Lieutenant Doran a few hours ago. Marsha saw you kill him.Whatever you say goes on the record, of course.     For whom? Bruce asked.     What kind of question is that? For the authorities on Earth when weget back.     When you get back? Like the crews of those other four ships outthere? Bruce laughed without much humor.     Terrence rubbed a palm across his lips, dropped the hand quickly againto his belly. You want to make a statement or not? You shot Doran inthe head with a rifle. No provocation for the attack. You've wastedenough of my time with your damn arguments and anti-social behavior.This is a democratic group. Everyone has his say. But you've said toomuch, and done too much. Freedom doesn't allow you to go around killingfellow crew-members!     Any idea that there was any democracy or freedom left died on Venus,Bruce said.     Now we get another lecture! Terrence exploded. He leaned forward.You're sick, Bruce. They did a bad psych job on you. They should neverhave sent you on this trip. We need strength, all the strength we canfind. You don't belong here.     I know, Bruce agreed indifferently. I was drafted for this trip. Itold them I shouldn't be brought along. I said I didn't want any partof it.     Because you're afraid. You're not Conqueror material. That's why youbacked down when we all voted to climb the mountain. And what the devildoes Venus—?     Max Drexel's freckles slipped into the creases across his highforehead. Haven't you heard him expounding on the injustice done tothe Venusian aborigines, Captain? If you haven't, you aren't thoroughlyeducated to the crackpot idealism still infecting certain people.     I haven't heard it, Terrence admitted. What injustice?     Bruce said, I guess it couldn't really be considered an injusticeany longer. Values have changed too much. Doran and I were part of thecrew of that first ship to hit Venus, five years ago. Remember? Oneof the New Era's more infamous dates. Drexel says the Venusians wereaborigines. No one ever got a chance to find out. We ran into thisvillage. No one knows how old it was. There were intelligent beingsthere. One community left on the whole planet, maybe a few thousandinhabitants. They made their last mistake when they came out to greetus. Without even an attempt at communication, they were wiped out. Thevillage was burned and everything alive in it was destroyed.     Bruce felt the old weakness coming into his knees, the sweat beginningto run down his face. He took a deep breath and stood there before thecold nihilistic stares of fourteen eyes.     No, Bruce said. I apologize. None of you know what I'm talkingabout.     Terrence nodded. You're psycho. It's as simple as that. They pick themost capable for these conquests. Even the flights are processes ofelimination. Eventually we get the very best, the most resilient, thereal conquering blood. You just don't pass, Bruce. Listen, what do youthink gives you the right to stand here in judgment against the lawsof the whole Solar System?     There are plenty on Earth who agree with me, Bruce said. I can saywhat I think now because you can't do more than kill me and you'll dothat regardless....     He stopped. This was ridiculous, a waste of his time. And theirs. Theyhad established a kind of final totalitarianism since the New Era. Thepsychologists, the Pavlovian Reflex boys, had done that. If you didn'twant to be reconditioned to fit into the social machine like a humanvacuum tube, you kept your mouth shut. And for many, when the mouth waskept shut long enough, the mind pretty well forgot what it had wantedto open the mouth for in the first place.     A minority in both segments of a world split into two factions.Both had been warring diplomatically and sometimes physically, forcenturies, clung to old ideas of freedom, democracy, self-determinism,individualism. To most, the words had no meaning now. It was a questionof which set of conquering heroes could conquer the most space first.So far, only Venus had fallen. They had done a good, thorough jobthere. Four ships had come to Mars and their crews had disappeared.This was the fifth attempt—  <doc-sep>   THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN     By BRYCE WALTON     Illustrated by BOB HAYES     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction June 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]        First one up this tallest summit in the Solar       System was a rotten egg ... a very rotten egg!        Bruce heard their feet on the gravel outside and got up reluctantly toopen the door for them. He'd been reading some of Byron's poems he'dsneaked aboard the ship; after that he had been on the point of dozingoff, and now one of those strangely realistic dreams would have to bepostponed for a while. Funny, those dreams. There were faces in them ofhuman beings, or of ghosts, and other forms that weren't human at all,but seemed real and alive—except that they were also just parts of alast unconscious desire to escape death. Maybe that was it.     'Oh that my young life were a lasting dream, my spirit not awakeningtill the beam of an eternity should bring the 'morrow, Bruce said. Hesmiled without feeling much of anything and added, Thanks, Mr. Poe.     Jacobs and Anhauser stood outside. The icy wind cut through and intoBruce, but he didn't seem to notice. Anhauser's bulk loomed even largerin the special cold-resisting suiting. Jacobs' thin face frowned slylyat Bruce.     Come on in, boys, and get warm, Bruce invited.     Hey, poet, you're still here! Anhauser said, looking astonished.     We thought you'd be running off somewhere, Jacobs said.     Bruce reached for the suit on its hook, started climbing into it.Where? he asked. Mars looks alike wherever you go. Where did youthink I'd be running to?     Any place just so it was away from here and us, Anhauser said.     I don't have to do that. You are going away from me. That takes careof that, doesn't it?     Ah, come on, get the hell out of there, Jacobs said. He pulled therevolver from its holster and pointed it at Bruce. We got to get somesleep. We're starting up that mountain at five in the morning.     I know, Bruce said. I'll be glad to see you climb the mountain.     Outside, in the weird light of the double moons, Bruce looked up at thegigantic overhang of the mountain. It was unbelievable. The mountaindidn't seem to belong here. He'd thought so when they'd first hit Marseight months back and discovered the other four rockets that had nevergot back to Earth—all lying side by side under the mountain's shadow,like little white chalk marks on a tallyboard.     They'd estimated its height at over 45,000 feet, which was a lot higherthan any mountain on Earth. Yet Mars was much older, geologically. Theentire face of the planet was smoothed into soft, undulating red hillsby erosion. And there in the middle of barren nothingness rose that oneincredible mountain. On certain nights when the stars were right, ithad seemed to Bruce as though it were pointing an accusing finger atEarth—or a warning one.  <doc-sep>And now, Laura, it's nearly midnight. You're in your room, sleeping,and the house is silent.     It's hard to tell you, to make you understand, and that is why I amwriting this.     I looked through Charlie's box again, more carefully this time, readingthe old letters and studying the photographs. I believe now thatCharlie sensed my indecision, that he left these things so that theycould tell me what he could not express in words.     And among the things, Laura, I found a ring.     A wedding ring.     In that past he never talked about, there was a woman—his wife.Charlie was young once, his eyes full of dreams, and he faced the samedecision that I am facing. Two paths were before him, but he tried totravel both. He later learned what we already know—that there can beno compromise. And you know, too, which path he finally chose.     Do you know why he had to drug himself to watch me graduate? So hecould look at me, knowing that I would see the worlds he could neverlive to see. Charlie didn't leave just a few trinkets behind him. Heleft himself, Laura, for he showed me that a boy's dream can also be aman's dream.     He made his last trip to Luna when he knew he was going to die. Heavenknows how he escaped a checkup. Maybe the captain understood and waskind—but that doesn't matter now.     Do you know      why     he wanted to reach Mars? Do you know why he didn'twant to die in the clean, cool air of Earth?     It was because he wanted to die nearer home. His home, Laura, was theUniverse, where the ship was his house, the crew his father, mother,brothers, the planets his children.     You say that the beauty of the other side of the mountain vanishesafter you reach it. But how can one ever be      sure     until the journey ismade? Could I or Charlie or the thousand before us bear to look upon astar and think,      I might have gone there; I could have been the first     ?     We said, too, that the life of a spaceman is lonely. Yet how could onebe lonely when men like Charlie roam the spaceways?     Charlie wanted me to himself that night after graduation. He wanted usto celebrate as spacemen should, for he knew that this would be hislast night on Earth. It might have seemed an ugly kind of celebrationto you, but he wanted it with all his heart, and we robbed him of it.     Because of these things, Laura, I will be gone in the morning. Explainthe best you can to Mickey and to your parents and Dean Dawson.     Right now I've got a date that I'm going to keep—at a dingy stone cafeon Mars, the      Space Rat     , just off Chandler Field on the Grand Canal.     Stardust Charlie will be there; he'll go with me in memory to whateverpart of the Galaxy I may live to reach. And so will you, Laura.     I have two wedding rings with me—his wife's ring and yours.   <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How does Terrence's journey unfold in THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in Bridge Crossing? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>I'd like to get a look at you, he said.     The girl laughed self-consciously. It's getting gray out. You'll seeme soon enough.     But she'd see      him     , Roddie realized. He had to talk fast.     What'll we do when it's light? he asked.     Well, I guess the boats have gone, Ida said. You could swim theGate, I guess—you seem tall and strong enough. But I couldn't. You'llthink it's crazy, but I've given this some thought, and even looked itover from the other side. I expect to try the Golden Gate Bridge!     Now he was getting somewhere! The bridge was ruined, impassable. Evenher own people had crossed the Strait by other means. But if there      were     a way over the bridge....     It's broken, he said. How in the world can we cross it?     Oh, you'll find out, if you take me up there. I—I don't want to bealone, Roddie. Will you go with me? Now?     Well, she could be made to point out the route before he killedher—      if     nothing happened when she saw him.     Uneasy, Roddie hefted the hammer in his hand.     A giggle broke the pause. It's nice of you to wait and let me go firstup the ladder, the girl said. But where the heck is the rusty oldthing?     I'll go first, said Roddie. He might need the advantage. Theladder's right behind me.     He climbed with hammer in teeth, and stretched his left hand fromstreet level to grasp and neutralize the girl's right. Then, nervouslyfingering his weapon, he stared at her in the thin gray dawn.     She was short and lean, except for roundnesses here and there. From hershapeless doeskin dress stretched slender legs that tapered to feetthat were bare, tiny, and, like her hands, only two in number.     Roddie was pleased. They were evenly matched as to members, and thatwould make things easy when the time came.     He looked into her face. It smiled at him, tanned and ruddy, with afull mouth and bright dark eyes that hid under long lashes when helooked too long.     Startling, those wary eyes. Concealing. For a moment he felt a rush offear, but she gave his hand a squeeze before twisting loose, and burstinto sudden laughter.     Diapers! she chortled, struggling to keep her voice low. My big,strong, blond and blue-eyed hero goes into battle wearing diapers, andcarrying only a hammer to fight with! You're the most unforgettablecharacter I have ever known!     He'd passed inspection, then—so far. He expelled his withheld breath,and said, I think you'll find me a little odd, in some ways.     Oh, not at all, Ida replied quickly. Different, yes, but I wouldn'tsay odd.  <doc-sep>   Bridge Crossing     BY DAVE DRYFOOS     Illustrated by HARRISON     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction May 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      He knew the city was organized for his     individual defense, for it had been that     way since he was born. But who was his enemy?      In 1849, the mist that sometimes rolled through the Golden Gate wasknown as fog. In 2149, it had become far more frequent, and was knownas smog. By 2349, it was fog again.     But tonight there was smoke mixed with the fog. Roddie could smell it.Somewhere in the forested ruins, fire was burning.     He wasn't worried. The small blaze that smoldered behind him on thecracked concrete floor had consumed everything burnable within blocks;what remained of the gutted concrete office building from which hepeered was fire-proof.     But Roddie was himself aflame with anger. As always when Invaders brokein from the north, he'd been left behind with his nurse, Molly, whilethe soldiers went out to fight.     And nowadays Molly's presence wasn't the comfort it used to be. He feltalmost ready to jump out of his skin, the way she rocked and knitted inthat grating ruined chair, saying over and over again, The soldiersdon't      want     little boys. The soldiers don't      want     little boys. Thesoldiers don't—     I'm      not     a little boy! Roddie suddenly shouted. I'm full-grown andI've never even      seen     an Invader. Why won't you let me go and fight?     Fiercely he crossed the bare, gritty floor and shook Molly's shoulder.She rattled under his jarring hand, and abruptly changed the subject.     A is for Atom, B is for Bomb, C is for Corpse— she chanted.     Roddie reached into her shapeless dress and pinched. Lately that hadhelped her over these spells. But this time, though it stopped thekindergarten song, the treatment only started something worse.     Wuzzums hungry? Molly cooed, still rocking.     Utterly disgusted, Roddie ripped her head off her neck.     It was a completely futile gesture. The complicated mind that hadcared for him and taught him speech and the alphabet hadn't made him amechanic, and his only tool was a broken-handled screwdriver.  <doc-sep>When they started down the street, she was nervous despite Roddie'sassertion that he knew where the soldiers were posted. He wondered ifshe felt some of the doubt he'd tried to conceal, shared his visions ofwhat the soldiers might do if they found him brazenly strolling with anInvader. They might not believe he was only questioning a prisoner.     Every day, his friends were becoming more unpredictable.     For that very reason, because he didn't know what precautions would doany good, he took a chance and walked openly to the bridge by the mostdirect route. In time this apparent assurance stilled Ida's fears, andshe began to talk.     Many of the things she said were beyond his experience and meaninglessto him, but he did note with interest how effective the soldiers hadbeen.     It's awful, Ida said. So few young men are left, so manycasualties....     But why do you—we—keep up the fight? Roddie asked. I mean, thesoldiers will never leave the city; their purpose is to guard it andthey      can't     leave, so they won't attack. Let them alone, and there'llbe plenty of young men.     Well! said Ida, sharply. You need indoctrination! Didn't they evertell you that the city is our home, even if the stupid androids do keepus out? Don't you know how dependent we are on these raids for all ourtools and things?     She sounded suspicious. Roddie shot her a furtive, startled glance.But she wasn't standing off to fight him. On the contrary, she was tooclose for both comfort and combat. She bumped him hip and shoulderevery few steps, and if he edged away, she followed.     He went on with his questioning. Why are      you     here? I mean, sure, theothers are after tools and things, but what's      your     purpose?     Ida shrugged. I'll admit no girl has ever done it before, she said,but I thought I could help with the wounded. That's why I have noweapon.     She hesitated, glanced covertly up at him, and went on with a rush ofwords. It's the lack of men, I guess. All the girls are kind of boredand hopeless, so I got this bright idea and stowed away on one of theboats when it was dark and the fog had settled down. Do you think I wasbeing silly?     No, but you do seem a little purposeless.     In silence they trudged through a vast area of charred wood andconcrete foundations on the northern end of the city. Thick fog overthe water hid Alcatraz, but in-shore visibility was better, and theycould see the beginning of the bridge approach.     A stone rattled nearby. There was a clink of metal. Ida gasped, andclung to Roddie's arm.     Behind me! he whispered urgently. Get behind me and hold on!     He felt Ida's arms encircling his waist, her chin digging into his backbelow the left shoulder. Facing them, a hundred feet away, stood asoldier. He looked contemptuous, hostile.      It's all right, Roddie said, his voice breaking.     There was a long, sullen, heart-stopping stare. Then the soldier turnedand walked away.     Ida's grip loosened, and he could feel her sag behind him. Roddieturned and held her. With eyes closed, she pressed cold blue lips tohis. He grimaced and turned away his head.     Ida's response was quick. Forgive me, she breathed, and slipped fromhis arms, but she held herself erect. I was so scared. And then we'vehad no sleep, no food or water.     Roddie was familiar with these signs of weakness, proud of appearing todeny his own humiliating needs.     I guess you're not as strong as me, he said smugly. I'll take careof you. Of course we can't sleep now, but I'll get food and water.     Leaving her to follow, he turned left to the ruins of a supermarket hehad previously visited, demonstrating his superior strength by settinga pace Ida couldn't match. By the time she caught up with him, he hadgrubbed out a few cans of the special size that Molly always chose.Picking two that were neither dented, swollen, nor rusted, he smashedan end of each with his hammer, and gave Ida her choice of strainedspinach or squash.     Baby food! she muttered. Maybe it's just what we need, but to eatbaby food with a man wearing a diaper.... Tell me, Roddie, how did youhappen to know where to find it?     Well, this is the northern end of the city, he answered, shrugging.I've been here before.     Why did the soldier let us go?     This watch, he said, touching the radium dial. It's a talisman.     But Ida's eyes had widened, and the color was gone from her face. Shewas silent, too, except when asking him to fill his fast-emptied canwith rain-water. She didn't finish her own portion, but lay back in therubble with feet higher than her head, obviously trying to renew herstrength.     And when they resumed their walk, her sullen, fear-clouded face showedplainly that he'd given himself away.     But to kill her now, before learning how she planned to cross thesupposedly impassable bridge, seemed as purposeless and impulsive asIda herself. Roddie didn't think, in any case, that her death wouldsatisfy the soldiers. With new and useful information to offer, hemight join them as an equal at last. But if his dalliance with thisenemy seemed pointless, not even Molly's knitting needles could protecthim.     He was sure the soldiers must be tracking the mysterious emanations ofhis watch dial, and had trouble to keep from glancing over his shoulderat every step. But arrival at the bridge approach ended the need forthis self-restraint. Here, difficult going demanded full attention.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>The mild shocks went on—whether from projectiles or energy-charges,would be hard to find out and it didn't matter; whatever was hittingthe      Quest III's     shell was doing it at velocities where thedistinction between matter and radiation practically ceases to exist.     But that shell was tough. It was an extension of the gravitic drivefield which transmitted the engines' power equally to every atom ofthe ship; forces impinging on the outside of the field were similarlytransmitted and rendered harmless. The effect was as if the vessel andall space inside its field were a single perfectly elastic body. Ameteoroid, for example, on striking it rebounded—usually vaporized bythe impact—and the ship, in obedience to the law of equal and oppositeforces, rebounded too, but since its mass was so much greater, itsdeflection was negligible.     The people in the      Quest III     would have felt nothing at all ofthe vicious onslaught being hurled against them, save that theirinertialess drive, at its normal thrust of two hundred gravities,was intentionally operated at one half of one per cent efficiency toprovide the illusion of Earthly gravitation.     One of the officers said shakily, It's as if they've been lying inwait for us. But why on Earth—     That, said the captain grimly, is what we have to find out. Why—onEarth. At least, I suspect the answer's there.     The      Quest III     bored steadily on through space, decelerating. Even ifone were no fatalist, there seemed no reason to stop decelerating orchange course. There was nowhere else to go and too little fuel leftif there had been; come what might, this was journey's end—perhapsin a more violent and final way than had been anticipated. All aroundwheeled the pigmy enemies, circling, maneuvering, and attacking,always attacking, with the senseless fury of maddened hornets. Theinterstellar ship bore no offensive weapons—but suddenly on one of thevision screens a speck of light flared into nova-brilliance, dazzlingthe watchers for the brief moment in which its very atoms were tornapart.     Knof Jr. whooped ecstatically and then subsided warily, but no one waspaying attention to him. The men on the      Quest III's     bridge lookedquestions at each other, as the thought of help from outside flashedinto many minds at once. But Captain Llud said soberly, It must havecaught one of their own shots, reflected. Maybe its own, if it scoredtoo direct a hit.     He studied the data so far gathered. A few blurred pictures had beengot, which showed cylindrical space ships much like the      Quest III     ,except that they were rocket-propelled and of far lesser size. Theirsize was hard to ascertain, because you needed to know their distanceand speed—but detector-beam echoes gave the distance, and likewise, bythe Doppler method, the velocity of directly receding or approachingships. It was apparent that the enemy vessels were even smaller thanGwar Den had at first supposed—not large enough to hold even one man.Tiny, deadly hornets with a colossal sting.     Robot craft, no doubt, said Knof Llud, but a chill ran down his spineas it occurred to him that perhaps the attackers weren't of humanorigin. They had seen no recognizable life in the part of the galaxythey had explored, but one of the other      Quests     might have encounteredand been traced home by some unhuman race that was greedy and able toconquer.  <doc-sep>He'd never gone as far as the bridge before, not having wanted tolook as if he might be leaving the city. The approach was a jungle ofconcrete with an underbrush of reinforcing-steel that reached for theunwary with rusted spines. Frequently they had to balance on crackedgirders, and inch over roadless spots high off the ground.     Here Ida took the lead. When they got to where three approach roadsmade a clover-leaf, she led him down a side road and into a forest.     Roddie stopped, and seized her arm.     What are you trying to do? he demanded.     I'm taking you with me, Ida said firmly. Taking you where youbelong!     No! he blurted, drawing his hammer. I can't go, nor let you go. Ibelong here!     Ida gasped, twisted loose, and ran. Roddie ran after her.     She wasn't so easily caught. Like a frightened doe, she dashed in andout among the trees, leaped to the bridge's underpinnings where theythrust rustedly from a cliff, and scrambled up the ramp.     Roddie sighed and slowed down. The pavement ended just beyond the cableanchors. From there to the south tower, only an occasional danglingsupport wire showed where the actual bridge had been suspended. Ida wastrapped.     He could take his time. Let the soldiers come up, as they undoubtedlywould, to finish the job....     But Ida didn't seem to realize she was trapped. Without hesitation shedashed up the main left-hand suspension cable and ran along its curvedsteel surface.     For a moment, Roddie thought of letting her go, letting her run up theever-steepening catenary until—because there were no guard-ropes orhandgrips—she simply fell. That would solve his problem.     Except it wouldn't be      his     solution. Her death wouldn't prove him tohis friends.     He set out quickly, before Ida was lost to sight in the thick fogthat billowed in straight from the ocean. At first he ran erect alongthe top of the yard-wide cylinder of twisted metal, but soon the curvesteepened. He had to go on all fours, clinging palm and sole.     Blood was on the cable where she'd passed. More blood stained it whenhe'd followed.     But because his friends knew neither pain nor fatigue, Roddie wouldadmit none either. Nor would he give in to the fear that dizzied him atevery downward look. He scrambled on like an automaton, watching onlyhis holds, till he rammed Ida's rear with his head.  <doc-sep>Lethla half-crouched in the midst of the smell of death and thechugging of blood-pumps below. In the silence he reached up with quickfingers, tapped a tiny crystal stud upon the back of his head, and thehalves of a microscopically thin chrysalis parted transparently offof his face. He shucked it off, trailing air-tendrils that had beeninserted, hidden in the uniform, ending in thin globules of oxygen.     He spoke. Triumph warmed his crystal-thin voice. That's how I did it,Earthman.     Glassite! said Rice. A face-moulded mask of glassite!     Lethla nodded. His milk-blue eyes dilated. Very marvelously pared toan unbreakable thickness of one-thirtieth of an inch; worn only on thehead. You have to look quickly to notice it, and, unfortunately, viewedas you saw it, outside the ship, floating in the void, not discernibleat all.     Prickles of sweat appeared on Rice's face. He swore at the Venusian andthe Venusian laughed like some sort of stringed instrument, high andquick.     Burnett laughed, too. Ironically. First time in years a man ever cameaboard the Constellation alive. It's a welcome change.     Lethla showed his needle-like teeth. I thought it might be. Where'syour radio?     Go find it! snapped Rice, hotly.     I will. One hand, blue-veined, on the ladder-rungs, Lethla paused.I know you're weaponless; Purple Cross regulations. And this air-lockis safe. Don't move. Whispering, his naked feet padded white up theladder. Two long breaths later something crashed; metal and glass andcoils. The radio.     Burnett put his shoulder blades against the wall-metal, looking at hisfeet. When he glanced up, Rice's fresh, animated face was spoiled bythe new bitterness in it.     Lethla came down. Like a breath of air on the rungs.     He smiled. That's better. Now. We can talk—     Rice said it, slow:     Interplanetary law declares it straight, Lethla! Get out! Only deadmen belong here.     Lethla's gun grip tightened. More talk of that nature, and only deadmen there will be. He blinked. But first—we must rescue Kriere....     Kriere! Rice acted as if he had been hit in the jaw.     Burnett moved his tongue back and forth on his lips silently, his eyeslidded, listening to the two of them as if they were a radio drama.Lethla's voice came next:     Rather unfortunately, yes. He's still alive, heading toward Venusat an orbital velocity of two thousand m.p.h., wearing one of theseair-chrysali. Enough air for two more hours. Our flag ship was attackedunexpectedly yesterday near Mars. We were forced to take to thelife-boats, scattering, Kriere and I in one, the others sacrificingtheir lives to cover our escape. We were lucky. We got through theEarth cordon unseen. But luck can't last forever.     We saw your morgue ship an hour ago. It's a long, long way to Venus.We were running out of fuel, food, water. Radio was broken. Capturewas certain. You were coming our way; we took the chance. We set asmall time-bomb to destroy the life-rocket, and cast off, wearing ourchrysali-helmets. It was the first time we had ever tried using them totrick anyone. We knew you wouldn't know we were alive until it was toolate and we controlled your ship. We knew you picked up all bodies forbrief exams, returning alien corpses to space later.     Rice's voice was sullen. A set-up for you, huh? Traveling under theprotection of the Purple Cross you can get your damned All-Mighty safeto Venus.     Lethla bowed slightly. Who would suspect a Morgue Rocket of providingsafe hiding for precious Venusian cargo?     Precious is the word for you, brother! said Rice.     Enough! Lethla moved his gun several inches.     Accelerate toward Venus, mote-detectors wide open. Kriere must bepicked up—      now!       <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in Bridge Crossing?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What are the defining traits of Ida, the character in Bridge Crossing? [SEP] <s>I'd like to get a look at you, he said.     The girl laughed self-consciously. It's getting gray out. You'll seeme soon enough.     But she'd see      him     , Roddie realized. He had to talk fast.     What'll we do when it's light? he asked.     Well, I guess the boats have gone, Ida said. You could swim theGate, I guess—you seem tall and strong enough. But I couldn't. You'llthink it's crazy, but I've given this some thought, and even looked itover from the other side. I expect to try the Golden Gate Bridge!     Now he was getting somewhere! The bridge was ruined, impassable. Evenher own people had crossed the Strait by other means. But if there      were     a way over the bridge....     It's broken, he said. How in the world can we cross it?     Oh, you'll find out, if you take me up there. I—I don't want to bealone, Roddie. Will you go with me? Now?     Well, she could be made to point out the route before he killedher—      if     nothing happened when she saw him.     Uneasy, Roddie hefted the hammer in his hand.     A giggle broke the pause. It's nice of you to wait and let me go firstup the ladder, the girl said. But where the heck is the rusty oldthing?     I'll go first, said Roddie. He might need the advantage. Theladder's right behind me.     He climbed with hammer in teeth, and stretched his left hand fromstreet level to grasp and neutralize the girl's right. Then, nervouslyfingering his weapon, he stared at her in the thin gray dawn.     She was short and lean, except for roundnesses here and there. From hershapeless doeskin dress stretched slender legs that tapered to feetthat were bare, tiny, and, like her hands, only two in number.     Roddie was pleased. They were evenly matched as to members, and thatwould make things easy when the time came.     He looked into her face. It smiled at him, tanned and ruddy, with afull mouth and bright dark eyes that hid under long lashes when helooked too long.     Startling, those wary eyes. Concealing. For a moment he felt a rush offear, but she gave his hand a squeeze before twisting loose, and burstinto sudden laughter.     Diapers! she chortled, struggling to keep her voice low. My big,strong, blond and blue-eyed hero goes into battle wearing diapers, andcarrying only a hammer to fight with! You're the most unforgettablecharacter I have ever known!     He'd passed inspection, then—so far. He expelled his withheld breath,and said, I think you'll find me a little odd, in some ways.     Oh, not at all, Ida replied quickly. Different, yes, but I wouldn'tsay odd.  <doc-sep>When they started down the street, she was nervous despite Roddie'sassertion that he knew where the soldiers were posted. He wondered ifshe felt some of the doubt he'd tried to conceal, shared his visions ofwhat the soldiers might do if they found him brazenly strolling with anInvader. They might not believe he was only questioning a prisoner.     Every day, his friends were becoming more unpredictable.     For that very reason, because he didn't know what precautions would doany good, he took a chance and walked openly to the bridge by the mostdirect route. In time this apparent assurance stilled Ida's fears, andshe began to talk.     Many of the things she said were beyond his experience and meaninglessto him, but he did note with interest how effective the soldiers hadbeen.     It's awful, Ida said. So few young men are left, so manycasualties....     But why do you—we—keep up the fight? Roddie asked. I mean, thesoldiers will never leave the city; their purpose is to guard it andthey      can't     leave, so they won't attack. Let them alone, and there'llbe plenty of young men.     Well! said Ida, sharply. You need indoctrination! Didn't they evertell you that the city is our home, even if the stupid androids do keepus out? Don't you know how dependent we are on these raids for all ourtools and things?     She sounded suspicious. Roddie shot her a furtive, startled glance.But she wasn't standing off to fight him. On the contrary, she was tooclose for both comfort and combat. She bumped him hip and shoulderevery few steps, and if he edged away, she followed.     He went on with his questioning. Why are      you     here? I mean, sure, theothers are after tools and things, but what's      your     purpose?     Ida shrugged. I'll admit no girl has ever done it before, she said,but I thought I could help with the wounded. That's why I have noweapon.     She hesitated, glanced covertly up at him, and went on with a rush ofwords. It's the lack of men, I guess. All the girls are kind of boredand hopeless, so I got this bright idea and stowed away on one of theboats when it was dark and the fog had settled down. Do you think I wasbeing silly?     No, but you do seem a little purposeless.     In silence they trudged through a vast area of charred wood andconcrete foundations on the northern end of the city. Thick fog overthe water hid Alcatraz, but in-shore visibility was better, and theycould see the beginning of the bridge approach.     A stone rattled nearby. There was a clink of metal. Ida gasped, andclung to Roddie's arm.     Behind me! he whispered urgently. Get behind me and hold on!     He felt Ida's arms encircling his waist, her chin digging into his backbelow the left shoulder. Facing them, a hundred feet away, stood asoldier. He looked contemptuous, hostile.      It's all right, Roddie said, his voice breaking.     There was a long, sullen, heart-stopping stare. Then the soldier turnedand walked away.     Ida's grip loosened, and he could feel her sag behind him. Roddieturned and held her. With eyes closed, she pressed cold blue lips tohis. He grimaced and turned away his head.     Ida's response was quick. Forgive me, she breathed, and slipped fromhis arms, but she held herself erect. I was so scared. And then we'vehad no sleep, no food or water.     Roddie was familiar with these signs of weakness, proud of appearing todeny his own humiliating needs.     I guess you're not as strong as me, he said smugly. I'll take careof you. Of course we can't sleep now, but I'll get food and water.     Leaving her to follow, he turned left to the ruins of a supermarket hehad previously visited, demonstrating his superior strength by settinga pace Ida couldn't match. By the time she caught up with him, he hadgrubbed out a few cans of the special size that Molly always chose.Picking two that were neither dented, swollen, nor rusted, he smashedan end of each with his hammer, and gave Ida her choice of strainedspinach or squash.     Baby food! she muttered. Maybe it's just what we need, but to eatbaby food with a man wearing a diaper.... Tell me, Roddie, how did youhappen to know where to find it?     Well, this is the northern end of the city, he answered, shrugging.I've been here before.     Why did the soldier let us go?     This watch, he said, touching the radium dial. It's a talisman.     But Ida's eyes had widened, and the color was gone from her face. Shewas silent, too, except when asking him to fill his fast-emptied canwith rain-water. She didn't finish her own portion, but lay back in therubble with feet higher than her head, obviously trying to renew herstrength.     And when they resumed their walk, her sullen, fear-clouded face showedplainly that he'd given himself away.     But to kill her now, before learning how she planned to cross thesupposedly impassable bridge, seemed as purposeless and impulsive asIda herself. Roddie didn't think, in any case, that her death wouldsatisfy the soldiers. With new and useful information to offer, hemight join them as an equal at last. But if his dalliance with thisenemy seemed pointless, not even Molly's knitting needles could protecthim.     He was sure the soldiers must be tracking the mysterious emanations ofhis watch dial, and had trouble to keep from glancing over his shoulderat every step. But arrival at the bridge approach ended the need forthis self-restraint. Here, difficult going demanded full attention.  <doc-sep>He'd never gone as far as the bridge before, not having wanted tolook as if he might be leaving the city. The approach was a jungle ofconcrete with an underbrush of reinforcing-steel that reached for theunwary with rusted spines. Frequently they had to balance on crackedgirders, and inch over roadless spots high off the ground.     Here Ida took the lead. When they got to where three approach roadsmade a clover-leaf, she led him down a side road and into a forest.     Roddie stopped, and seized her arm.     What are you trying to do? he demanded.     I'm taking you with me, Ida said firmly. Taking you where youbelong!     No! he blurted, drawing his hammer. I can't go, nor let you go. Ibelong here!     Ida gasped, twisted loose, and ran. Roddie ran after her.     She wasn't so easily caught. Like a frightened doe, she dashed in andout among the trees, leaped to the bridge's underpinnings where theythrust rustedly from a cliff, and scrambled up the ramp.     Roddie sighed and slowed down. The pavement ended just beyond the cableanchors. From there to the south tower, only an occasional danglingsupport wire showed where the actual bridge had been suspended. Ida wastrapped.     He could take his time. Let the soldiers come up, as they undoubtedlywould, to finish the job....     But Ida didn't seem to realize she was trapped. Without hesitation shedashed up the main left-hand suspension cable and ran along its curvedsteel surface.     For a moment, Roddie thought of letting her go, letting her run up theever-steepening catenary until—because there were no guard-ropes orhandgrips—she simply fell. That would solve his problem.     Except it wouldn't be      his     solution. Her death wouldn't prove him tohis friends.     He set out quickly, before Ida was lost to sight in the thick fogthat billowed in straight from the ocean. At first he ran erect alongthe top of the yard-wide cylinder of twisted metal, but soon the curvesteepened. He had to go on all fours, clinging palm and sole.     Blood was on the cable where she'd passed. More blood stained it whenhe'd followed.     But because his friends knew neither pain nor fatigue, Roddie wouldadmit none either. Nor would he give in to the fear that dizzied him atevery downward look. He scrambled on like an automaton, watching onlyhis holds, till he rammed Ida's rear with his head.  <doc-sep>Roddie awoke as Ida finished struggling free of his unconscious grip.Limping, he joined her painful walk around the tower. From its openingsthey looked out on a strange and isolated world.     To the north, where Ida seemed drawn as though by instinct, MountTamalpais reared its brushy head, a looming island above a billowywhite sea of fog. To the south were the Twin Peaks, a pair of buttonson a cotton sheet. Eastward lay Mount Diablo, bald and brooding,tallest of the peaks and most forbidding.     But westward over the ocean lay the land of gold—of all the kinds ofgold there are, from brightest yellow to deepest orange. Only a smallportion of the setting sun glared above the fog-bank; the rest seemedto have been broken off and smeared around by a child in love with itscolor.     Fascinated, Roddie stared for minutes, but turned when Ida showed nointerest. She was intent on the tower itself. Following her eyes,Roddie saw his duty made suddenly clear.     Easy to make out even in the fading light was the route by whichInvaders could cross to the foot of this tower on the remaining ruinsof the road, climb to where he now stood, and then descend the cableover the bridge's gap and catch the city unaware. Easy to estimate wasthe advantage of even this perilous route over things that scattered onthe water and prevented a landing in strength. Easy to see was the needto kill Ida before she carried home this knowledge.     Roddie took the hammer from his waist.     Don't! Oh, don't! Ida screamed. She burst into tears and covered herface with scratched and bloodied hands.     Surprised, Roddie withheld the blow. He had wept, as a child, and,weeping, had for the first time learned he differed from his friends.Ida's tears disturbed him, bringing unhappy memories.     Why should you cry? he asked comfortingly. You know your people willcome back to avenge you and will destroy my friends.     But—but my people are your people, too, Ida wailed. It's sosenseless, now, after all our struggle to escape. Don't you see? Yourfriends are only machines, built by our ancestors. We are Men—and thecity is ours, not theirs!     It      can't     be, Roddie objected. The city surely belongs to thosewho are superior, and my friends are superior to your people, even tome. Each of      us     has a purpose, though, while you Invaders seem to beaimless. Each of      us     helps preserve the city; you only try to rob andend it by destroying it.      My     people must be the true Men, becausethey're so much more rational than yours.... And it isn't rational tolet you escape.     Ida had turned up her tear-streaked face to stare at him.     Rational! What's rational about murdering a defenseless girl incold blood? Don't you realize we're the same sort of being, we two?Don't—don't you remember how we've been with each other all day?     She paused. Roddie noticed that her eyes were dark and frightened, yetsomehow soft, over scarlet cheeks. He had to look away. But he saidnothing.     Never mind! Ida said viciously. You can't make me beg. Go ahead andkill—see if it proves you're superior. My people will take over thecity regardless of you and me, and regardless of your jumping-jackfriends, too! Men can accomplish anything!  <doc-sep>For more than a century, robotocists have been trying to build Asimov'sfamous Three Laws of Robotics into a robot brain.       First Law: A robot shall not, either through action or inaction, allowharm to come to a human being.         Second Law: A robot shall obey the orders of a human being, exceptwhen such orders conflict with the First Law     .     [15]       Third Law: A robot shall strive to protect its own existence, exceptwhen this conflicts with the First or Second Law.       Nobody has succeeded yet, because nobody has yet succeeded in definingthe term human being in such a way that the logical mind of a robotcan encompass the concept.     A traffic robot is useful only because the definition has been rigidlynarrowed down. As far as a traffic robot is concerned, human beingsare the automobiles on its highways. Woe betide any poor sap who tries,illegally, to cross a robot-controlled highway on foot. The robot'sonly concern would be with the safety of the automobiles, and if theonly way to avoid destruction of an automobile were to be by nudgingthe pedestrian aside with a fender, that's what would happen.     And, since its orders only come from one place, I suppose that atraffic robot thinks that the guy who uses that typer is an automobile.     With the first six models of the McGuire ships, the robotocistsattempted to build in the Three Laws exactly as stated. And the firstsix went insane.     If one human being says jump left, and another says jump right,the robot is unable to evaluate which human being has given the morevalid order. Feed enough confusing and conflicting data into a robotbrain, and it can begin behaving in ways that, in a human being, wouldbe called paranoia or schizophrenia or catatonia or what-have-you,depending  [16]  on the symptoms. And an insane robot is fully as dangerousas an insane human being controlling the same mechanical equipment, ifnot more so.     So the seventh model had been modified. The present McGuire's brain wasimpressed with slight modifications of the First and Second Laws.     If it is difficult to define a human being, it is much more difficultto define a      responsible     human being. One, in other words, who canbe relied upon to give wise and proper orders to a robot, who can berelied upon not to drive the robot insane.     The robotocists at Viking Spacecraft had decided to take anothertack. Very well, they'd said, if we can't define all the membersof a group, we can certainly define an individual. We'll pick oneresponsible person and build McGuire so that he will take orders onlyfrom that person.     As it turned out, I was that person. Just substitute Daniel Oakfor human being in the First and Second Laws, and you'll see howimportant I was to a certain spaceship named McGuire.  <doc-sep>She had stopped, trembling and gasping. Roddie clung just below herand looked dazedly around. There was nothing in sight but fog, piercedby the rapier of rusted wire supporting them. Neither end of it was insight.     Upward lay success, if death were not nearer on the cable. No soldierhad ever come even this far, for soldiers, as he'd told Ida, never leftthe city, were not built to do so. But      he     was here; with luck, hecould capitalize on the differences that had plagued him so long.     Go on! he ordered hoarsely. Move!     There was neither answer nor result. He broke off an end of loosenedwire and jabbed her rear. Ida gasped and crawled on.     Up and up they went, chilled, wet, bleeding, pain-racked, exhausted.Never had Roddie felt so thoroughly the defects of his peculiarnon-mechanical construction.     Without realizing it, he acquired a new purpose, a duty as compellingas that of any soldier or fire-watcher. He had to keep that tremblingbody of his alive, mount to the tall rust tower overhead.     He climbed and he made Ida climb, till, at nightmare's end, the fogthinned and they came into clear, windswept air and clawed up the lasthundred feet to sanctuary.     They were completely spent. Without word or thought they crept withinthe tower, huddled together for warmth on its dank steel deck, andslept for several hours.  <doc-sep>Scornfully she turned and looked toward the western twilight. It wasRoddie's turn to stand and stare.     Purpose! Ida flung at him over her shoulder. Logic! Women hear somuch of that from men! You're a man, all right! Men      always     call itlogic when they want to destroy! Loyalty to your own sort, kindness,affection—all emotional, aren't they? Not a bit logical. Emotion isfor creating, and it's so much more logical to destroy, isn't it?     She whirled back toward him, advancing as if she wanted to sink herteeth into his throat. Go ahead. Get it over with—if you have thecourage.     It was hard for Roddie to look away from that wrath-crimsoned face,but it was even harder to keep staring into the blaze of her eyes. Hecompromised by gazing out an opening at the gathering dusk. He thoughtfor a long time before he decided to tuck his hammer away.     It isn't reasonable to kill you now, he said. Too dark. You can'tpossibly get down that half-ruined manway tonight, so let's see how Ifeel in the morning.     Ida began to weep again, and Roddie found it necessary to comfort her.     And by morning he knew he was a Man.   <doc-sep>   Bridge Crossing     BY DAVE DRYFOOS     Illustrated by HARRISON     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction May 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      He knew the city was organized for his     individual defense, for it had been that     way since he was born. But who was his enemy?      In 1849, the mist that sometimes rolled through the Golden Gate wasknown as fog. In 2149, it had become far more frequent, and was knownas smog. By 2349, it was fog again.     But tonight there was smoke mixed with the fog. Roddie could smell it.Somewhere in the forested ruins, fire was burning.     He wasn't worried. The small blaze that smoldered behind him on thecracked concrete floor had consumed everything burnable within blocks;what remained of the gutted concrete office building from which hepeered was fire-proof.     But Roddie was himself aflame with anger. As always when Invaders brokein from the north, he'd been left behind with his nurse, Molly, whilethe soldiers went out to fight.     And nowadays Molly's presence wasn't the comfort it used to be. He feltalmost ready to jump out of his skin, the way she rocked and knitted inthat grating ruined chair, saying over and over again, The soldiersdon't      want     little boys. The soldiers don't      want     little boys. Thesoldiers don't—     I'm      not     a little boy! Roddie suddenly shouted. I'm full-grown andI've never even      seen     an Invader. Why won't you let me go and fight?     Fiercely he crossed the bare, gritty floor and shook Molly's shoulder.She rattled under his jarring hand, and abruptly changed the subject.     A is for Atom, B is for Bomb, C is for Corpse— she chanted.     Roddie reached into her shapeless dress and pinched. Lately that hadhelped her over these spells. But this time, though it stopped thekindergarten song, the treatment only started something worse.     Wuzzums hungry? Molly cooed, still rocking.     Utterly disgusted, Roddie ripped her head off her neck.     It was a completely futile gesture. The complicated mind that hadcared for him and taught him speech and the alphabet hadn't made him amechanic, and his only tool was a broken-handled screwdriver.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What are the defining traits of Ida, the character in Bridge Crossing?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the connection between Ida and Roddie in the story of Bridge Crossing? [SEP] <s>When they started down the street, she was nervous despite Roddie'sassertion that he knew where the soldiers were posted. He wondered ifshe felt some of the doubt he'd tried to conceal, shared his visions ofwhat the soldiers might do if they found him brazenly strolling with anInvader. They might not believe he was only questioning a prisoner.     Every day, his friends were becoming more unpredictable.     For that very reason, because he didn't know what precautions would doany good, he took a chance and walked openly to the bridge by the mostdirect route. In time this apparent assurance stilled Ida's fears, andshe began to talk.     Many of the things she said were beyond his experience and meaninglessto him, but he did note with interest how effective the soldiers hadbeen.     It's awful, Ida said. So few young men are left, so manycasualties....     But why do you—we—keep up the fight? Roddie asked. I mean, thesoldiers will never leave the city; their purpose is to guard it andthey      can't     leave, so they won't attack. Let them alone, and there'llbe plenty of young men.     Well! said Ida, sharply. You need indoctrination! Didn't they evertell you that the city is our home, even if the stupid androids do keepus out? Don't you know how dependent we are on these raids for all ourtools and things?     She sounded suspicious. Roddie shot her a furtive, startled glance.But she wasn't standing off to fight him. On the contrary, she was tooclose for both comfort and combat. She bumped him hip and shoulderevery few steps, and if he edged away, she followed.     He went on with his questioning. Why are      you     here? I mean, sure, theothers are after tools and things, but what's      your     purpose?     Ida shrugged. I'll admit no girl has ever done it before, she said,but I thought I could help with the wounded. That's why I have noweapon.     She hesitated, glanced covertly up at him, and went on with a rush ofwords. It's the lack of men, I guess. All the girls are kind of boredand hopeless, so I got this bright idea and stowed away on one of theboats when it was dark and the fog had settled down. Do you think I wasbeing silly?     No, but you do seem a little purposeless.     In silence they trudged through a vast area of charred wood andconcrete foundations on the northern end of the city. Thick fog overthe water hid Alcatraz, but in-shore visibility was better, and theycould see the beginning of the bridge approach.     A stone rattled nearby. There was a clink of metal. Ida gasped, andclung to Roddie's arm.     Behind me! he whispered urgently. Get behind me and hold on!     He felt Ida's arms encircling his waist, her chin digging into his backbelow the left shoulder. Facing them, a hundred feet away, stood asoldier. He looked contemptuous, hostile.      It's all right, Roddie said, his voice breaking.     There was a long, sullen, heart-stopping stare. Then the soldier turnedand walked away.     Ida's grip loosened, and he could feel her sag behind him. Roddieturned and held her. With eyes closed, she pressed cold blue lips tohis. He grimaced and turned away his head.     Ida's response was quick. Forgive me, she breathed, and slipped fromhis arms, but she held herself erect. I was so scared. And then we'vehad no sleep, no food or water.     Roddie was familiar with these signs of weakness, proud of appearing todeny his own humiliating needs.     I guess you're not as strong as me, he said smugly. I'll take careof you. Of course we can't sleep now, but I'll get food and water.     Leaving her to follow, he turned left to the ruins of a supermarket hehad previously visited, demonstrating his superior strength by settinga pace Ida couldn't match. By the time she caught up with him, he hadgrubbed out a few cans of the special size that Molly always chose.Picking two that were neither dented, swollen, nor rusted, he smashedan end of each with his hammer, and gave Ida her choice of strainedspinach or squash.     Baby food! she muttered. Maybe it's just what we need, but to eatbaby food with a man wearing a diaper.... Tell me, Roddie, how did youhappen to know where to find it?     Well, this is the northern end of the city, he answered, shrugging.I've been here before.     Why did the soldier let us go?     This watch, he said, touching the radium dial. It's a talisman.     But Ida's eyes had widened, and the color was gone from her face. Shewas silent, too, except when asking him to fill his fast-emptied canwith rain-water. She didn't finish her own portion, but lay back in therubble with feet higher than her head, obviously trying to renew herstrength.     And when they resumed their walk, her sullen, fear-clouded face showedplainly that he'd given himself away.     But to kill her now, before learning how she planned to cross thesupposedly impassable bridge, seemed as purposeless and impulsive asIda herself. Roddie didn't think, in any case, that her death wouldsatisfy the soldiers. With new and useful information to offer, hemight join them as an equal at last. But if his dalliance with thisenemy seemed pointless, not even Molly's knitting needles could protecthim.     He was sure the soldiers must be tracking the mysterious emanations ofhis watch dial, and had trouble to keep from glancing over his shoulderat every step. But arrival at the bridge approach ended the need forthis self-restraint. Here, difficult going demanded full attention.  <doc-sep>I'd like to get a look at you, he said.     The girl laughed self-consciously. It's getting gray out. You'll seeme soon enough.     But she'd see      him     , Roddie realized. He had to talk fast.     What'll we do when it's light? he asked.     Well, I guess the boats have gone, Ida said. You could swim theGate, I guess—you seem tall and strong enough. But I couldn't. You'llthink it's crazy, but I've given this some thought, and even looked itover from the other side. I expect to try the Golden Gate Bridge!     Now he was getting somewhere! The bridge was ruined, impassable. Evenher own people had crossed the Strait by other means. But if there      were     a way over the bridge....     It's broken, he said. How in the world can we cross it?     Oh, you'll find out, if you take me up there. I—I don't want to bealone, Roddie. Will you go with me? Now?     Well, she could be made to point out the route before he killedher—      if     nothing happened when she saw him.     Uneasy, Roddie hefted the hammer in his hand.     A giggle broke the pause. It's nice of you to wait and let me go firstup the ladder, the girl said. But where the heck is the rusty oldthing?     I'll go first, said Roddie. He might need the advantage. Theladder's right behind me.     He climbed with hammer in teeth, and stretched his left hand fromstreet level to grasp and neutralize the girl's right. Then, nervouslyfingering his weapon, he stared at her in the thin gray dawn.     She was short and lean, except for roundnesses here and there. From hershapeless doeskin dress stretched slender legs that tapered to feetthat were bare, tiny, and, like her hands, only two in number.     Roddie was pleased. They were evenly matched as to members, and thatwould make things easy when the time came.     He looked into her face. It smiled at him, tanned and ruddy, with afull mouth and bright dark eyes that hid under long lashes when helooked too long.     Startling, those wary eyes. Concealing. For a moment he felt a rush offear, but she gave his hand a squeeze before twisting loose, and burstinto sudden laughter.     Diapers! she chortled, struggling to keep her voice low. My big,strong, blond and blue-eyed hero goes into battle wearing diapers, andcarrying only a hammer to fight with! You're the most unforgettablecharacter I have ever known!     He'd passed inspection, then—so far. He expelled his withheld breath,and said, I think you'll find me a little odd, in some ways.     Oh, not at all, Ida replied quickly. Different, yes, but I wouldn'tsay odd.  <doc-sep>He'd never gone as far as the bridge before, not having wanted tolook as if he might be leaving the city. The approach was a jungle ofconcrete with an underbrush of reinforcing-steel that reached for theunwary with rusted spines. Frequently they had to balance on crackedgirders, and inch over roadless spots high off the ground.     Here Ida took the lead. When they got to where three approach roadsmade a clover-leaf, she led him down a side road and into a forest.     Roddie stopped, and seized her arm.     What are you trying to do? he demanded.     I'm taking you with me, Ida said firmly. Taking you where youbelong!     No! he blurted, drawing his hammer. I can't go, nor let you go. Ibelong here!     Ida gasped, twisted loose, and ran. Roddie ran after her.     She wasn't so easily caught. Like a frightened doe, she dashed in andout among the trees, leaped to the bridge's underpinnings where theythrust rustedly from a cliff, and scrambled up the ramp.     Roddie sighed and slowed down. The pavement ended just beyond the cableanchors. From there to the south tower, only an occasional danglingsupport wire showed where the actual bridge had been suspended. Ida wastrapped.     He could take his time. Let the soldiers come up, as they undoubtedlywould, to finish the job....     But Ida didn't seem to realize she was trapped. Without hesitation shedashed up the main left-hand suspension cable and ran along its curvedsteel surface.     For a moment, Roddie thought of letting her go, letting her run up theever-steepening catenary until—because there were no guard-ropes orhandgrips—she simply fell. That would solve his problem.     Except it wouldn't be      his     solution. Her death wouldn't prove him tohis friends.     He set out quickly, before Ida was lost to sight in the thick fogthat billowed in straight from the ocean. At first he ran erect alongthe top of the yard-wide cylinder of twisted metal, but soon the curvesteepened. He had to go on all fours, clinging palm and sole.     Blood was on the cable where she'd passed. More blood stained it whenhe'd followed.     But because his friends knew neither pain nor fatigue, Roddie wouldadmit none either. Nor would he give in to the fear that dizzied him atevery downward look. He scrambled on like an automaton, watching onlyhis holds, till he rammed Ida's rear with his head.  <doc-sep>Roddie awoke as Ida finished struggling free of his unconscious grip.Limping, he joined her painful walk around the tower. From its openingsthey looked out on a strange and isolated world.     To the north, where Ida seemed drawn as though by instinct, MountTamalpais reared its brushy head, a looming island above a billowywhite sea of fog. To the south were the Twin Peaks, a pair of buttonson a cotton sheet. Eastward lay Mount Diablo, bald and brooding,tallest of the peaks and most forbidding.     But westward over the ocean lay the land of gold—of all the kinds ofgold there are, from brightest yellow to deepest orange. Only a smallportion of the setting sun glared above the fog-bank; the rest seemedto have been broken off and smeared around by a child in love with itscolor.     Fascinated, Roddie stared for minutes, but turned when Ida showed nointerest. She was intent on the tower itself. Following her eyes,Roddie saw his duty made suddenly clear.     Easy to make out even in the fading light was the route by whichInvaders could cross to the foot of this tower on the remaining ruinsof the road, climb to where he now stood, and then descend the cableover the bridge's gap and catch the city unaware. Easy to estimate wasthe advantage of even this perilous route over things that scattered onthe water and prevented a landing in strength. Easy to see was the needto kill Ida before she carried home this knowledge.     Roddie took the hammer from his waist.     Don't! Oh, don't! Ida screamed. She burst into tears and covered herface with scratched and bloodied hands.     Surprised, Roddie withheld the blow. He had wept, as a child, and,weeping, had for the first time learned he differed from his friends.Ida's tears disturbed him, bringing unhappy memories.     Why should you cry? he asked comfortingly. You know your people willcome back to avenge you and will destroy my friends.     But—but my people are your people, too, Ida wailed. It's sosenseless, now, after all our struggle to escape. Don't you see? Yourfriends are only machines, built by our ancestors. We are Men—and thecity is ours, not theirs!     It      can't     be, Roddie objected. The city surely belongs to thosewho are superior, and my friends are superior to your people, even tome. Each of      us     has a purpose, though, while you Invaders seem to beaimless. Each of      us     helps preserve the city; you only try to rob andend it by destroying it.      My     people must be the true Men, becausethey're so much more rational than yours.... And it isn't rational tolet you escape.     Ida had turned up her tear-streaked face to stare at him.     Rational! What's rational about murdering a defenseless girl incold blood? Don't you realize we're the same sort of being, we two?Don't—don't you remember how we've been with each other all day?     She paused. Roddie noticed that her eyes were dark and frightened, yetsomehow soft, over scarlet cheeks. He had to look away. But he saidnothing.     Never mind! Ida said viciously. You can't make me beg. Go ahead andkill—see if it proves you're superior. My people will take over thecity regardless of you and me, and regardless of your jumping-jackfriends, too! Men can accomplish anything!  <doc-sep>Scornfully she turned and looked toward the western twilight. It wasRoddie's turn to stand and stare.     Purpose! Ida flung at him over her shoulder. Logic! Women hear somuch of that from men! You're a man, all right! Men      always     call itlogic when they want to destroy! Loyalty to your own sort, kindness,affection—all emotional, aren't they? Not a bit logical. Emotion isfor creating, and it's so much more logical to destroy, isn't it?     She whirled back toward him, advancing as if she wanted to sink herteeth into his throat. Go ahead. Get it over with—if you have thecourage.     It was hard for Roddie to look away from that wrath-crimsoned face,but it was even harder to keep staring into the blaze of her eyes. Hecompromised by gazing out an opening at the gathering dusk. He thoughtfor a long time before he decided to tuck his hammer away.     It isn't reasonable to kill you now, he said. Too dark. You can'tpossibly get down that half-ruined manway tonight, so let's see how Ifeel in the morning.     Ida began to weep again, and Roddie found it necessary to comfort her.     And by morning he knew he was a Man.   <doc-sep>She had stopped, trembling and gasping. Roddie clung just below herand looked dazedly around. There was nothing in sight but fog, piercedby the rapier of rusted wire supporting them. Neither end of it was insight.     Upward lay success, if death were not nearer on the cable. No soldierhad ever come even this far, for soldiers, as he'd told Ida, never leftthe city, were not built to do so. But      he     was here; with luck, hecould capitalize on the differences that had plagued him so long.     Go on! he ordered hoarsely. Move!     There was neither answer nor result. He broke off an end of loosenedwire and jabbed her rear. Ida gasped and crawled on.     Up and up they went, chilled, wet, bleeding, pain-racked, exhausted.Never had Roddie felt so thoroughly the defects of his peculiarnon-mechanical construction.     Without realizing it, he acquired a new purpose, a duty as compellingas that of any soldier or fire-watcher. He had to keep that tremblingbody of his alive, mount to the tall rust tower overhead.     He climbed and he made Ida climb, till, at nightmare's end, the fogthinned and they came into clear, windswept air and clawed up the lasthundred feet to sanctuary.     They were completely spent. Without word or thought they crept withinthe tower, huddled together for warmth on its dank steel deck, andslept for several hours.  <doc-sep>   Bridge Crossing     BY DAVE DRYFOOS     Illustrated by HARRISON     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction May 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      He knew the city was organized for his     individual defense, for it had been that     way since he was born. But who was his enemy?      In 1849, the mist that sometimes rolled through the Golden Gate wasknown as fog. In 2149, it had become far more frequent, and was knownas smog. By 2349, it was fog again.     But tonight there was smoke mixed with the fog. Roddie could smell it.Somewhere in the forested ruins, fire was burning.     He wasn't worried. The small blaze that smoldered behind him on thecracked concrete floor had consumed everything burnable within blocks;what remained of the gutted concrete office building from which hepeered was fire-proof.     But Roddie was himself aflame with anger. As always when Invaders brokein from the north, he'd been left behind with his nurse, Molly, whilethe soldiers went out to fight.     And nowadays Molly's presence wasn't the comfort it used to be. He feltalmost ready to jump out of his skin, the way she rocked and knitted inthat grating ruined chair, saying over and over again, The soldiersdon't      want     little boys. The soldiers don't      want     little boys. Thesoldiers don't—     I'm      not     a little boy! Roddie suddenly shouted. I'm full-grown andI've never even      seen     an Invader. Why won't you let me go and fight?     Fiercely he crossed the bare, gritty floor and shook Molly's shoulder.She rattled under his jarring hand, and abruptly changed the subject.     A is for Atom, B is for Bomb, C is for Corpse— she chanted.     Roddie reached into her shapeless dress and pinched. Lately that hadhelped her over these spells. But this time, though it stopped thekindergarten song, the treatment only started something worse.     Wuzzums hungry? Molly cooed, still rocking.     Utterly disgusted, Roddie ripped her head off her neck.     It was a completely futile gesture. The complicated mind that hadcared for him and taught him speech and the alphabet hadn't made him amechanic, and his only tool was a broken-handled screwdriver.  <doc-sep>Quickly, Roddie drew the hammer from his waist. Then, with weapon readyfor an instantaneous blow, he stretched his left hand through thedarkness. He touched something warm, softish. Gingerly he felt overthat curving surface for identifying features.     While Roddie investigated by touch, his long fingers were suddenlyseized and bitten. At the same time, his right shin received a savagekick. And his own retaliatory blow was checked in mid-swing by anunexpected voice.     Get your filthy hands off me! it whispered angrily. Who do you thinkyou are?     Startled, he dropped his hammer. I'm Roddie, he said, squatting tofumble for it. Who do you think      you     are?     I'm Ida, naturally! Just how many girls      are     there in this raidingparty?     His first Invader—and he had dropped his weapon!     Scrabbling fearfully in the dust for his hammer, Roddie pausedsuddenly. This girl—whatever      that     was—seemed to think him one ofher own kind. There was a chance, not much, but worth taking, to turndelay to advantage. Maybe he could learn something of value before hekilled her. That would make the soldiers accept him!     He stalled, seeking a gambit. How would      I     know how many girls thereare?     Half expecting a blow, he got instead an apology. I'm sorry, the girlsaid. I should have known. Never even heard your name before, either.Roddie.... Whose boat did you come in, Roddie?     Boat? What was a boat? How would I know? he repeated, voice tightwith fear of discovery.     If she noticed the tension, she didn't show it. Certainly her whisperwas friendly enough. Oh, you're one of the fellows from Bodega, then.They shoved a boy into our boat at the last minute, too. Tough, wasn'tit, getting separated in the fog and tide like that? If only we didn'thave to use boats.... But, say, how are we going to get away from here?     I wouldn't know, Roddie said, closing his fingers on the hammer, andrising. How did you get in?     Followed your footprints. It was sundown and I saw human tracks in thedust and they led me here. Where were you?     Scouting around, Roddie said vaguely. How did you know I was a manwhen I came back?     Because you couldn't see me, silly! You know perfectly well theseandroids are heat-sensitive and can locate us in the dark!     Indeed he did know! Many times he'd felt ashamed that Molly could findhim whenever she wanted to, even here in the manhole. But perhaps themanhole would help him now to redeem himself....  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the connection between Ida and Roddie in the story of Bridge Crossing?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"In what ways does Roddie utilize his screwdriver and hammer in the narrative of Bridge Crossing? [SEP] <s>I'd like to get a look at you, he said.     The girl laughed self-consciously. It's getting gray out. You'll seeme soon enough.     But she'd see      him     , Roddie realized. He had to talk fast.     What'll we do when it's light? he asked.     Well, I guess the boats have gone, Ida said. You could swim theGate, I guess—you seem tall and strong enough. But I couldn't. You'llthink it's crazy, but I've given this some thought, and even looked itover from the other side. I expect to try the Golden Gate Bridge!     Now he was getting somewhere! The bridge was ruined, impassable. Evenher own people had crossed the Strait by other means. But if there      were     a way over the bridge....     It's broken, he said. How in the world can we cross it?     Oh, you'll find out, if you take me up there. I—I don't want to bealone, Roddie. Will you go with me? Now?     Well, she could be made to point out the route before he killedher—      if     nothing happened when she saw him.     Uneasy, Roddie hefted the hammer in his hand.     A giggle broke the pause. It's nice of you to wait and let me go firstup the ladder, the girl said. But where the heck is the rusty oldthing?     I'll go first, said Roddie. He might need the advantage. Theladder's right behind me.     He climbed with hammer in teeth, and stretched his left hand fromstreet level to grasp and neutralize the girl's right. Then, nervouslyfingering his weapon, he stared at her in the thin gray dawn.     She was short and lean, except for roundnesses here and there. From hershapeless doeskin dress stretched slender legs that tapered to feetthat were bare, tiny, and, like her hands, only two in number.     Roddie was pleased. They were evenly matched as to members, and thatwould make things easy when the time came.     He looked into her face. It smiled at him, tanned and ruddy, with afull mouth and bright dark eyes that hid under long lashes when helooked too long.     Startling, those wary eyes. Concealing. For a moment he felt a rush offear, but she gave his hand a squeeze before twisting loose, and burstinto sudden laughter.     Diapers! she chortled, struggling to keep her voice low. My big,strong, blond and blue-eyed hero goes into battle wearing diapers, andcarrying only a hammer to fight with! You're the most unforgettablecharacter I have ever known!     He'd passed inspection, then—so far. He expelled his withheld breath,and said, I think you'll find me a little odd, in some ways.     Oh, not at all, Ida replied quickly. Different, yes, but I wouldn'tsay odd.  <doc-sep>   Bridge Crossing     BY DAVE DRYFOOS     Illustrated by HARRISON     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction May 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      He knew the city was organized for his     individual defense, for it had been that     way since he was born. But who was his enemy?      In 1849, the mist that sometimes rolled through the Golden Gate wasknown as fog. In 2149, it had become far more frequent, and was knownas smog. By 2349, it was fog again.     But tonight there was smoke mixed with the fog. Roddie could smell it.Somewhere in the forested ruins, fire was burning.     He wasn't worried. The small blaze that smoldered behind him on thecracked concrete floor had consumed everything burnable within blocks;what remained of the gutted concrete office building from which hepeered was fire-proof.     But Roddie was himself aflame with anger. As always when Invaders brokein from the north, he'd been left behind with his nurse, Molly, whilethe soldiers went out to fight.     And nowadays Molly's presence wasn't the comfort it used to be. He feltalmost ready to jump out of his skin, the way she rocked and knitted inthat grating ruined chair, saying over and over again, The soldiersdon't      want     little boys. The soldiers don't      want     little boys. Thesoldiers don't—     I'm      not     a little boy! Roddie suddenly shouted. I'm full-grown andI've never even      seen     an Invader. Why won't you let me go and fight?     Fiercely he crossed the bare, gritty floor and shook Molly's shoulder.She rattled under his jarring hand, and abruptly changed the subject.     A is for Atom, B is for Bomb, C is for Corpse— she chanted.     Roddie reached into her shapeless dress and pinched. Lately that hadhelped her over these spells. But this time, though it stopped thekindergarten song, the treatment only started something worse.     Wuzzums hungry? Molly cooed, still rocking.     Utterly disgusted, Roddie ripped her head off her neck.     It was a completely futile gesture. The complicated mind that hadcared for him and taught him speech and the alphabet hadn't made him amechanic, and his only tool was a broken-handled screwdriver.  <doc-sep>He'd never gone as far as the bridge before, not having wanted tolook as if he might be leaving the city. The approach was a jungle ofconcrete with an underbrush of reinforcing-steel that reached for theunwary with rusted spines. Frequently they had to balance on crackedgirders, and inch over roadless spots high off the ground.     Here Ida took the lead. When they got to where three approach roadsmade a clover-leaf, she led him down a side road and into a forest.     Roddie stopped, and seized her arm.     What are you trying to do? he demanded.     I'm taking you with me, Ida said firmly. Taking you where youbelong!     No! he blurted, drawing his hammer. I can't go, nor let you go. Ibelong here!     Ida gasped, twisted loose, and ran. Roddie ran after her.     She wasn't so easily caught. Like a frightened doe, she dashed in andout among the trees, leaped to the bridge's underpinnings where theythrust rustedly from a cliff, and scrambled up the ramp.     Roddie sighed and slowed down. The pavement ended just beyond the cableanchors. From there to the south tower, only an occasional danglingsupport wire showed where the actual bridge had been suspended. Ida wastrapped.     He could take his time. Let the soldiers come up, as they undoubtedlywould, to finish the job....     But Ida didn't seem to realize she was trapped. Without hesitation shedashed up the main left-hand suspension cable and ran along its curvedsteel surface.     For a moment, Roddie thought of letting her go, letting her run up theever-steepening catenary until—because there were no guard-ropes orhandgrips—she simply fell. That would solve his problem.     Except it wouldn't be      his     solution. Her death wouldn't prove him tohis friends.     He set out quickly, before Ida was lost to sight in the thick fogthat billowed in straight from the ocean. At first he ran erect alongthe top of the yard-wide cylinder of twisted metal, but soon the curvesteepened. He had to go on all fours, clinging palm and sole.     Blood was on the cable where she'd passed. More blood stained it whenhe'd followed.     But because his friends knew neither pain nor fatigue, Roddie wouldadmit none either. Nor would he give in to the fear that dizzied him atevery downward look. He scrambled on like an automaton, watching onlyhis holds, till he rammed Ida's rear with his head.  <doc-sep>When they started down the street, she was nervous despite Roddie'sassertion that he knew where the soldiers were posted. He wondered ifshe felt some of the doubt he'd tried to conceal, shared his visions ofwhat the soldiers might do if they found him brazenly strolling with anInvader. They might not believe he was only questioning a prisoner.     Every day, his friends were becoming more unpredictable.     For that very reason, because he didn't know what precautions would doany good, he took a chance and walked openly to the bridge by the mostdirect route. In time this apparent assurance stilled Ida's fears, andshe began to talk.     Many of the things she said were beyond his experience and meaninglessto him, but he did note with interest how effective the soldiers hadbeen.     It's awful, Ida said. So few young men are left, so manycasualties....     But why do you—we—keep up the fight? Roddie asked. I mean, thesoldiers will never leave the city; their purpose is to guard it andthey      can't     leave, so they won't attack. Let them alone, and there'llbe plenty of young men.     Well! said Ida, sharply. You need indoctrination! Didn't they evertell you that the city is our home, even if the stupid androids do keepus out? Don't you know how dependent we are on these raids for all ourtools and things?     She sounded suspicious. Roddie shot her a furtive, startled glance.But she wasn't standing off to fight him. On the contrary, she was tooclose for both comfort and combat. She bumped him hip and shoulderevery few steps, and if he edged away, she followed.     He went on with his questioning. Why are      you     here? I mean, sure, theothers are after tools and things, but what's      your     purpose?     Ida shrugged. I'll admit no girl has ever done it before, she said,but I thought I could help with the wounded. That's why I have noweapon.     She hesitated, glanced covertly up at him, and went on with a rush ofwords. It's the lack of men, I guess. All the girls are kind of boredand hopeless, so I got this bright idea and stowed away on one of theboats when it was dark and the fog had settled down. Do you think I wasbeing silly?     No, but you do seem a little purposeless.     In silence they trudged through a vast area of charred wood andconcrete foundations on the northern end of the city. Thick fog overthe water hid Alcatraz, but in-shore visibility was better, and theycould see the beginning of the bridge approach.     A stone rattled nearby. There was a clink of metal. Ida gasped, andclung to Roddie's arm.     Behind me! he whispered urgently. Get behind me and hold on!     He felt Ida's arms encircling his waist, her chin digging into his backbelow the left shoulder. Facing them, a hundred feet away, stood asoldier. He looked contemptuous, hostile.      It's all right, Roddie said, his voice breaking.     There was a long, sullen, heart-stopping stare. Then the soldier turnedand walked away.     Ida's grip loosened, and he could feel her sag behind him. Roddieturned and held her. With eyes closed, she pressed cold blue lips tohis. He grimaced and turned away his head.     Ida's response was quick. Forgive me, she breathed, and slipped fromhis arms, but she held herself erect. I was so scared. And then we'vehad no sleep, no food or water.     Roddie was familiar with these signs of weakness, proud of appearing todeny his own humiliating needs.     I guess you're not as strong as me, he said smugly. I'll take careof you. Of course we can't sleep now, but I'll get food and water.     Leaving her to follow, he turned left to the ruins of a supermarket hehad previously visited, demonstrating his superior strength by settinga pace Ida couldn't match. By the time she caught up with him, he hadgrubbed out a few cans of the special size that Molly always chose.Picking two that were neither dented, swollen, nor rusted, he smashedan end of each with his hammer, and gave Ida her choice of strainedspinach or squash.     Baby food! she muttered. Maybe it's just what we need, but to eatbaby food with a man wearing a diaper.... Tell me, Roddie, how did youhappen to know where to find it?     Well, this is the northern end of the city, he answered, shrugging.I've been here before.     Why did the soldier let us go?     This watch, he said, touching the radium dial. It's a talisman.     But Ida's eyes had widened, and the color was gone from her face. Shewas silent, too, except when asking him to fill his fast-emptied canwith rain-water. She didn't finish her own portion, but lay back in therubble with feet higher than her head, obviously trying to renew herstrength.     And when they resumed their walk, her sullen, fear-clouded face showedplainly that he'd given himself away.     But to kill her now, before learning how she planned to cross thesupposedly impassable bridge, seemed as purposeless and impulsive asIda herself. Roddie didn't think, in any case, that her death wouldsatisfy the soldiers. With new and useful information to offer, hemight join them as an equal at last. But if his dalliance with thisenemy seemed pointless, not even Molly's knitting needles could protecthim.     He was sure the soldiers must be tracking the mysterious emanations ofhis watch dial, and had trouble to keep from glancing over his shoulderat every step. But arrival at the bridge approach ended the need forthis self-restraint. Here, difficult going demanded full attention.  <doc-sep>Roddie awoke as Ida finished struggling free of his unconscious grip.Limping, he joined her painful walk around the tower. From its openingsthey looked out on a strange and isolated world.     To the north, where Ida seemed drawn as though by instinct, MountTamalpais reared its brushy head, a looming island above a billowywhite sea of fog. To the south were the Twin Peaks, a pair of buttonson a cotton sheet. Eastward lay Mount Diablo, bald and brooding,tallest of the peaks and most forbidding.     But westward over the ocean lay the land of gold—of all the kinds ofgold there are, from brightest yellow to deepest orange. Only a smallportion of the setting sun glared above the fog-bank; the rest seemedto have been broken off and smeared around by a child in love with itscolor.     Fascinated, Roddie stared for minutes, but turned when Ida showed nointerest. She was intent on the tower itself. Following her eyes,Roddie saw his duty made suddenly clear.     Easy to make out even in the fading light was the route by whichInvaders could cross to the foot of this tower on the remaining ruinsof the road, climb to where he now stood, and then descend the cableover the bridge's gap and catch the city unaware. Easy to estimate wasthe advantage of even this perilous route over things that scattered onthe water and prevented a landing in strength. Easy to see was the needto kill Ida before she carried home this knowledge.     Roddie took the hammer from his waist.     Don't! Oh, don't! Ida screamed. She burst into tears and covered herface with scratched and bloodied hands.     Surprised, Roddie withheld the blow. He had wept, as a child, and,weeping, had for the first time learned he differed from his friends.Ida's tears disturbed him, bringing unhappy memories.     Why should you cry? he asked comfortingly. You know your people willcome back to avenge you and will destroy my friends.     But—but my people are your people, too, Ida wailed. It's sosenseless, now, after all our struggle to escape. Don't you see? Yourfriends are only machines, built by our ancestors. We are Men—and thecity is ours, not theirs!     It      can't     be, Roddie objected. The city surely belongs to thosewho are superior, and my friends are superior to your people, even tome. Each of      us     has a purpose, though, while you Invaders seem to beaimless. Each of      us     helps preserve the city; you only try to rob andend it by destroying it.      My     people must be the true Men, becausethey're so much more rational than yours.... And it isn't rational tolet you escape.     Ida had turned up her tear-streaked face to stare at him.     Rational! What's rational about murdering a defenseless girl incold blood? Don't you realize we're the same sort of being, we two?Don't—don't you remember how we've been with each other all day?     She paused. Roddie noticed that her eyes were dark and frightened, yetsomehow soft, over scarlet cheeks. He had to look away. But he saidnothing.     Never mind! Ida said viciously. You can't make me beg. Go ahead andkill—see if it proves you're superior. My people will take over thecity regardless of you and me, and regardless of your jumping-jackfriends, too! Men can accomplish anything!  <doc-sep>Quickly, Roddie drew the hammer from his waist. Then, with weapon readyfor an instantaneous blow, he stretched his left hand through thedarkness. He touched something warm, softish. Gingerly he felt overthat curving surface for identifying features.     While Roddie investigated by touch, his long fingers were suddenlyseized and bitten. At the same time, his right shin received a savagekick. And his own retaliatory blow was checked in mid-swing by anunexpected voice.     Get your filthy hands off me! it whispered angrily. Who do you thinkyou are?     Startled, he dropped his hammer. I'm Roddie, he said, squatting tofumble for it. Who do you think      you     are?     I'm Ida, naturally! Just how many girls      are     there in this raidingparty?     His first Invader—and he had dropped his weapon!     Scrabbling fearfully in the dust for his hammer, Roddie pausedsuddenly. This girl—whatever      that     was—seemed to think him one ofher own kind. There was a chance, not much, but worth taking, to turndelay to advantage. Maybe he could learn something of value before hekilled her. That would make the soldiers accept him!     He stalled, seeking a gambit. How would      I     know how many girls thereare?     Half expecting a blow, he got instead an apology. I'm sorry, the girlsaid. I should have known. Never even heard your name before, either.Roddie.... Whose boat did you come in, Roddie?     Boat? What was a boat? How would I know? he repeated, voice tightwith fear of discovery.     If she noticed the tension, she didn't show it. Certainly her whisperwas friendly enough. Oh, you're one of the fellows from Bodega, then.They shoved a boy into our boat at the last minute, too. Tough, wasn'tit, getting separated in the fog and tide like that? If only we didn'thave to use boats.... But, say, how are we going to get away from here?     I wouldn't know, Roddie said, closing his fingers on the hammer, andrising. How did you get in?     Followed your footprints. It was sundown and I saw human tracks in thedust and they led me here. Where were you?     Scouting around, Roddie said vaguely. How did you know I was a manwhen I came back?     Because you couldn't see me, silly! You know perfectly well theseandroids are heat-sensitive and can locate us in the dark!     Indeed he did know! Many times he'd felt ashamed that Molly could findhim whenever she wanted to, even here in the manhole. But perhaps themanhole would help him now to redeem himself....  <doc-sep>Roddie salvaged and returned Molly's needles. Then he examined thepatient, tearing him apart as a boy dismembers an alarm clock.     It was lucky he did. The left arm's pair of hands suddenly writhed offthe floor in an effort to choke him. But because the arm was detachedat the shoulder and therefore blind, he escaped the clutching onslaughtand could goad the reflexing hands into assaulting one anotherharmlessly.      Meanwhile, the other soldiers left, except for one, apparently anothercasualty, who stumbled on his way out and fell into the fire. By thetime Roddie had hauled him clear, damage was beyond repair. Roddieswore, then decided to try combining parts of this casualty with piecesof the other to make a whole one.     To get more light for the operation, he poked up the fire. Roddie wasnew at his work, and took it seriously. It alarmed him to watch thesoldiers melt away, gradually succumbing to battle damage, shamedhim to see the empty ruins burn section by section as the Invadersrepeatedly broke through and had to be burned out.     Soon there would be nothing left of the      Private Property Keep Out     that, according to Molly's bedtime story, the Owners had entrusted tothem when driven away by radioactivity. Soon the soldiers themselveswould be gone. None would remain to guard the city but a few strayedservants like Molly, and an occasional Civil Defender.     And himself, Roddie reflected, spitting savagely into the fire. Hemight remain. But how he fitted into the picture, he didn't know. AndMolly, who claimed to have found him in the ruins after a fight withInvaders twenty years before, couldn't or wouldn't say.     Well, for as long as possible, Roddie decided, he'd do his duty asthe others did theirs—single-mindedly. Eventually the soldiers mightaccept him as one of themselves; meanwhile, this newly attempted firstaid was useful to them.     He gave the fire a final poke and then paused, wondering if, whenheated, his screwdriver could make an unfastened end of wire stick onthe grayish spot where it seemed to belong.     Stretching prone to blow the embers hot so he could try out his newidea, Roddie got too close to the flames. Instantly the room filledwith the stench of singed hair. Roddie drew angrily back, beating outthe sparks in his uncut blond mane.     As he stood slapping his head and muttering, a deranged Civil Defensefirefighter popped into the doorway and covered him with carbon dioxidefoam.     Roddie fled. His life-long friends were not merely wearing out, theywere unbearably wearing.  <doc-sep>Scornfully she turned and looked toward the western twilight. It wasRoddie's turn to stand and stare.     Purpose! Ida flung at him over her shoulder. Logic! Women hear somuch of that from men! You're a man, all right! Men      always     call itlogic when they want to destroy! Loyalty to your own sort, kindness,affection—all emotional, aren't they? Not a bit logical. Emotion isfor creating, and it's so much more logical to destroy, isn't it?     She whirled back toward him, advancing as if she wanted to sink herteeth into his throat. Go ahead. Get it over with—if you have thecourage.     It was hard for Roddie to look away from that wrath-crimsoned face,but it was even harder to keep staring into the blaze of her eyes. Hecompromised by gazing out an opening at the gathering dusk. He thoughtfor a long time before he decided to tuck his hammer away.     It isn't reasonable to kill you now, he said. Too dark. You can'tpossibly get down that half-ruined manway tonight, so let's see how Ifeel in the morning.     Ida began to weep again, and Roddie found it necessary to comfort her.     And by morning he knew he was a Man.   <doc-sep></s> [SEP] In what ways does Roddie utilize his screwdriver and hammer in the narrative of Bridge Crossing?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What methods does Roddie use to determine the reason for his uniqueness compared to his peers in the story of Bridge Crossing? [SEP] <s>   Bridge Crossing     BY DAVE DRYFOOS     Illustrated by HARRISON     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction May 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      He knew the city was organized for his     individual defense, for it had been that     way since he was born. But who was his enemy?      In 1849, the mist that sometimes rolled through the Golden Gate wasknown as fog. In 2149, it had become far more frequent, and was knownas smog. By 2349, it was fog again.     But tonight there was smoke mixed with the fog. Roddie could smell it.Somewhere in the forested ruins, fire was burning.     He wasn't worried. The small blaze that smoldered behind him on thecracked concrete floor had consumed everything burnable within blocks;what remained of the gutted concrete office building from which hepeered was fire-proof.     But Roddie was himself aflame with anger. As always when Invaders brokein from the north, he'd been left behind with his nurse, Molly, whilethe soldiers went out to fight.     And nowadays Molly's presence wasn't the comfort it used to be. He feltalmost ready to jump out of his skin, the way she rocked and knitted inthat grating ruined chair, saying over and over again, The soldiersdon't      want     little boys. The soldiers don't      want     little boys. Thesoldiers don't—     I'm      not     a little boy! Roddie suddenly shouted. I'm full-grown andI've never even      seen     an Invader. Why won't you let me go and fight?     Fiercely he crossed the bare, gritty floor and shook Molly's shoulder.She rattled under his jarring hand, and abruptly changed the subject.     A is for Atom, B is for Bomb, C is for Corpse— she chanted.     Roddie reached into her shapeless dress and pinched. Lately that hadhelped her over these spells. But this time, though it stopped thekindergarten song, the treatment only started something worse.     Wuzzums hungry? Molly cooed, still rocking.     Utterly disgusted, Roddie ripped her head off her neck.     It was a completely futile gesture. The complicated mind that hadcared for him and taught him speech and the alphabet hadn't made him amechanic, and his only tool was a broken-handled screwdriver.  <doc-sep>I'd like to get a look at you, he said.     The girl laughed self-consciously. It's getting gray out. You'll seeme soon enough.     But she'd see      him     , Roddie realized. He had to talk fast.     What'll we do when it's light? he asked.     Well, I guess the boats have gone, Ida said. You could swim theGate, I guess—you seem tall and strong enough. But I couldn't. You'llthink it's crazy, but I've given this some thought, and even looked itover from the other side. I expect to try the Golden Gate Bridge!     Now he was getting somewhere! The bridge was ruined, impassable. Evenher own people had crossed the Strait by other means. But if there      were     a way over the bridge....     It's broken, he said. How in the world can we cross it?     Oh, you'll find out, if you take me up there. I—I don't want to bealone, Roddie. Will you go with me? Now?     Well, she could be made to point out the route before he killedher—      if     nothing happened when she saw him.     Uneasy, Roddie hefted the hammer in his hand.     A giggle broke the pause. It's nice of you to wait and let me go firstup the ladder, the girl said. But where the heck is the rusty oldthing?     I'll go first, said Roddie. He might need the advantage. Theladder's right behind me.     He climbed with hammer in teeth, and stretched his left hand fromstreet level to grasp and neutralize the girl's right. Then, nervouslyfingering his weapon, he stared at her in the thin gray dawn.     She was short and lean, except for roundnesses here and there. From hershapeless doeskin dress stretched slender legs that tapered to feetthat were bare, tiny, and, like her hands, only two in number.     Roddie was pleased. They were evenly matched as to members, and thatwould make things easy when the time came.     He looked into her face. It smiled at him, tanned and ruddy, with afull mouth and bright dark eyes that hid under long lashes when helooked too long.     Startling, those wary eyes. Concealing. For a moment he felt a rush offear, but she gave his hand a squeeze before twisting loose, and burstinto sudden laughter.     Diapers! she chortled, struggling to keep her voice low. My big,strong, blond and blue-eyed hero goes into battle wearing diapers, andcarrying only a hammer to fight with! You're the most unforgettablecharacter I have ever known!     He'd passed inspection, then—so far. He expelled his withheld breath,and said, I think you'll find me a little odd, in some ways.     Oh, not at all, Ida replied quickly. Different, yes, but I wouldn'tsay odd.  <doc-sep>When they started down the street, she was nervous despite Roddie'sassertion that he knew where the soldiers were posted. He wondered ifshe felt some of the doubt he'd tried to conceal, shared his visions ofwhat the soldiers might do if they found him brazenly strolling with anInvader. They might not believe he was only questioning a prisoner.     Every day, his friends were becoming more unpredictable.     For that very reason, because he didn't know what precautions would doany good, he took a chance and walked openly to the bridge by the mostdirect route. In time this apparent assurance stilled Ida's fears, andshe began to talk.     Many of the things she said were beyond his experience and meaninglessto him, but he did note with interest how effective the soldiers hadbeen.     It's awful, Ida said. So few young men are left, so manycasualties....     But why do you—we—keep up the fight? Roddie asked. I mean, thesoldiers will never leave the city; their purpose is to guard it andthey      can't     leave, so they won't attack. Let them alone, and there'llbe plenty of young men.     Well! said Ida, sharply. You need indoctrination! Didn't they evertell you that the city is our home, even if the stupid androids do keepus out? Don't you know how dependent we are on these raids for all ourtools and things?     She sounded suspicious. Roddie shot her a furtive, startled glance.But she wasn't standing off to fight him. On the contrary, she was tooclose for both comfort and combat. She bumped him hip and shoulderevery few steps, and if he edged away, she followed.     He went on with his questioning. Why are      you     here? I mean, sure, theothers are after tools and things, but what's      your     purpose?     Ida shrugged. I'll admit no girl has ever done it before, she said,but I thought I could help with the wounded. That's why I have noweapon.     She hesitated, glanced covertly up at him, and went on with a rush ofwords. It's the lack of men, I guess. All the girls are kind of boredand hopeless, so I got this bright idea and stowed away on one of theboats when it was dark and the fog had settled down. Do you think I wasbeing silly?     No, but you do seem a little purposeless.     In silence they trudged through a vast area of charred wood andconcrete foundations on the northern end of the city. Thick fog overthe water hid Alcatraz, but in-shore visibility was better, and theycould see the beginning of the bridge approach.     A stone rattled nearby. There was a clink of metal. Ida gasped, andclung to Roddie's arm.     Behind me! he whispered urgently. Get behind me and hold on!     He felt Ida's arms encircling his waist, her chin digging into his backbelow the left shoulder. Facing them, a hundred feet away, stood asoldier. He looked contemptuous, hostile.      It's all right, Roddie said, his voice breaking.     There was a long, sullen, heart-stopping stare. Then the soldier turnedand walked away.     Ida's grip loosened, and he could feel her sag behind him. Roddieturned and held her. With eyes closed, she pressed cold blue lips tohis. He grimaced and turned away his head.     Ida's response was quick. Forgive me, she breathed, and slipped fromhis arms, but she held herself erect. I was so scared. And then we'vehad no sleep, no food or water.     Roddie was familiar with these signs of weakness, proud of appearing todeny his own humiliating needs.     I guess you're not as strong as me, he said smugly. I'll take careof you. Of course we can't sleep now, but I'll get food and water.     Leaving her to follow, he turned left to the ruins of a supermarket hehad previously visited, demonstrating his superior strength by settinga pace Ida couldn't match. By the time she caught up with him, he hadgrubbed out a few cans of the special size that Molly always chose.Picking two that were neither dented, swollen, nor rusted, he smashedan end of each with his hammer, and gave Ida her choice of strainedspinach or squash.     Baby food! she muttered. Maybe it's just what we need, but to eatbaby food with a man wearing a diaper.... Tell me, Roddie, how did youhappen to know where to find it?     Well, this is the northern end of the city, he answered, shrugging.I've been here before.     Why did the soldier let us go?     This watch, he said, touching the radium dial. It's a talisman.     But Ida's eyes had widened, and the color was gone from her face. Shewas silent, too, except when asking him to fill his fast-emptied canwith rain-water. She didn't finish her own portion, but lay back in therubble with feet higher than her head, obviously trying to renew herstrength.     And when they resumed their walk, her sullen, fear-clouded face showedplainly that he'd given himself away.     But to kill her now, before learning how she planned to cross thesupposedly impassable bridge, seemed as purposeless and impulsive asIda herself. Roddie didn't think, in any case, that her death wouldsatisfy the soldiers. With new and useful information to offer, hemight join them as an equal at last. But if his dalliance with thisenemy seemed pointless, not even Molly's knitting needles could protecthim.     He was sure the soldiers must be tracking the mysterious emanations ofhis watch dial, and had trouble to keep from glancing over his shoulderat every step. But arrival at the bridge approach ended the need forthis self-restraint. Here, difficult going demanded full attention.  <doc-sep>He'd never gone as far as the bridge before, not having wanted tolook as if he might be leaving the city. The approach was a jungle ofconcrete with an underbrush of reinforcing-steel that reached for theunwary with rusted spines. Frequently they had to balance on crackedgirders, and inch over roadless spots high off the ground.     Here Ida took the lead. When they got to where three approach roadsmade a clover-leaf, she led him down a side road and into a forest.     Roddie stopped, and seized her arm.     What are you trying to do? he demanded.     I'm taking you with me, Ida said firmly. Taking you where youbelong!     No! he blurted, drawing his hammer. I can't go, nor let you go. Ibelong here!     Ida gasped, twisted loose, and ran. Roddie ran after her.     She wasn't so easily caught. Like a frightened doe, she dashed in andout among the trees, leaped to the bridge's underpinnings where theythrust rustedly from a cliff, and scrambled up the ramp.     Roddie sighed and slowed down. The pavement ended just beyond the cableanchors. From there to the south tower, only an occasional danglingsupport wire showed where the actual bridge had been suspended. Ida wastrapped.     He could take his time. Let the soldiers come up, as they undoubtedlywould, to finish the job....     But Ida didn't seem to realize she was trapped. Without hesitation shedashed up the main left-hand suspension cable and ran along its curvedsteel surface.     For a moment, Roddie thought of letting her go, letting her run up theever-steepening catenary until—because there were no guard-ropes orhandgrips—she simply fell. That would solve his problem.     Except it wouldn't be      his     solution. Her death wouldn't prove him tohis friends.     He set out quickly, before Ida was lost to sight in the thick fogthat billowed in straight from the ocean. At first he ran erect alongthe top of the yard-wide cylinder of twisted metal, but soon the curvesteepened. He had to go on all fours, clinging palm and sole.     Blood was on the cable where she'd passed. More blood stained it whenhe'd followed.     But because his friends knew neither pain nor fatigue, Roddie wouldadmit none either. Nor would he give in to the fear that dizzied him atevery downward look. He scrambled on like an automaton, watching onlyhis holds, till he rammed Ida's rear with his head.  <doc-sep>Roddie awoke as Ida finished struggling free of his unconscious grip.Limping, he joined her painful walk around the tower. From its openingsthey looked out on a strange and isolated world.     To the north, where Ida seemed drawn as though by instinct, MountTamalpais reared its brushy head, a looming island above a billowywhite sea of fog. To the south were the Twin Peaks, a pair of buttonson a cotton sheet. Eastward lay Mount Diablo, bald and brooding,tallest of the peaks and most forbidding.     But westward over the ocean lay the land of gold—of all the kinds ofgold there are, from brightest yellow to deepest orange. Only a smallportion of the setting sun glared above the fog-bank; the rest seemedto have been broken off and smeared around by a child in love with itscolor.     Fascinated, Roddie stared for minutes, but turned when Ida showed nointerest. She was intent on the tower itself. Following her eyes,Roddie saw his duty made suddenly clear.     Easy to make out even in the fading light was the route by whichInvaders could cross to the foot of this tower on the remaining ruinsof the road, climb to where he now stood, and then descend the cableover the bridge's gap and catch the city unaware. Easy to estimate wasthe advantage of even this perilous route over things that scattered onthe water and prevented a landing in strength. Easy to see was the needto kill Ida before she carried home this knowledge.     Roddie took the hammer from his waist.     Don't! Oh, don't! Ida screamed. She burst into tears and covered herface with scratched and bloodied hands.     Surprised, Roddie withheld the blow. He had wept, as a child, and,weeping, had for the first time learned he differed from his friends.Ida's tears disturbed him, bringing unhappy memories.     Why should you cry? he asked comfortingly. You know your people willcome back to avenge you and will destroy my friends.     But—but my people are your people, too, Ida wailed. It's sosenseless, now, after all our struggle to escape. Don't you see? Yourfriends are only machines, built by our ancestors. We are Men—and thecity is ours, not theirs!     It      can't     be, Roddie objected. The city surely belongs to thosewho are superior, and my friends are superior to your people, even tome. Each of      us     has a purpose, though, while you Invaders seem to beaimless. Each of      us     helps preserve the city; you only try to rob andend it by destroying it.      My     people must be the true Men, becausethey're so much more rational than yours.... And it isn't rational tolet you escape.     Ida had turned up her tear-streaked face to stare at him.     Rational! What's rational about murdering a defenseless girl incold blood? Don't you realize we're the same sort of being, we two?Don't—don't you remember how we've been with each other all day?     She paused. Roddie noticed that her eyes were dark and frightened, yetsomehow soft, over scarlet cheeks. He had to look away. But he saidnothing.     Never mind! Ida said viciously. You can't make me beg. Go ahead andkill—see if it proves you're superior. My people will take over thecity regardless of you and me, and regardless of your jumping-jackfriends, too! Men can accomplish anything!  <doc-sep>Scornfully she turned and looked toward the western twilight. It wasRoddie's turn to stand and stare.     Purpose! Ida flung at him over her shoulder. Logic! Women hear somuch of that from men! You're a man, all right! Men      always     call itlogic when they want to destroy! Loyalty to your own sort, kindness,affection—all emotional, aren't they? Not a bit logical. Emotion isfor creating, and it's so much more logical to destroy, isn't it?     She whirled back toward him, advancing as if she wanted to sink herteeth into his throat. Go ahead. Get it over with—if you have thecourage.     It was hard for Roddie to look away from that wrath-crimsoned face,but it was even harder to keep staring into the blaze of her eyes. Hecompromised by gazing out an opening at the gathering dusk. He thoughtfor a long time before he decided to tuck his hammer away.     It isn't reasonable to kill you now, he said. Too dark. You can'tpossibly get down that half-ruined manway tonight, so let's see how Ifeel in the morning.     Ida began to weep again, and Roddie found it necessary to comfort her.     And by morning he knew he was a Man.   <doc-sep>Roddie salvaged and returned Molly's needles. Then he examined thepatient, tearing him apart as a boy dismembers an alarm clock.     It was lucky he did. The left arm's pair of hands suddenly writhed offthe floor in an effort to choke him. But because the arm was detachedat the shoulder and therefore blind, he escaped the clutching onslaughtand could goad the reflexing hands into assaulting one anotherharmlessly.      Meanwhile, the other soldiers left, except for one, apparently anothercasualty, who stumbled on his way out and fell into the fire. By thetime Roddie had hauled him clear, damage was beyond repair. Roddieswore, then decided to try combining parts of this casualty with piecesof the other to make a whole one.     To get more light for the operation, he poked up the fire. Roddie wasnew at his work, and took it seriously. It alarmed him to watch thesoldiers melt away, gradually succumbing to battle damage, shamedhim to see the empty ruins burn section by section as the Invadersrepeatedly broke through and had to be burned out.     Soon there would be nothing left of the      Private Property Keep Out     that, according to Molly's bedtime story, the Owners had entrusted tothem when driven away by radioactivity. Soon the soldiers themselveswould be gone. None would remain to guard the city but a few strayedservants like Molly, and an occasional Civil Defender.     And himself, Roddie reflected, spitting savagely into the fire. Hemight remain. But how he fitted into the picture, he didn't know. AndMolly, who claimed to have found him in the ruins after a fight withInvaders twenty years before, couldn't or wouldn't say.     Well, for as long as possible, Roddie decided, he'd do his duty asthe others did theirs—single-mindedly. Eventually the soldiers mightaccept him as one of themselves; meanwhile, this newly attempted firstaid was useful to them.     He gave the fire a final poke and then paused, wondering if, whenheated, his screwdriver could make an unfastened end of wire stick onthe grayish spot where it seemed to belong.     Stretching prone to blow the embers hot so he could try out his newidea, Roddie got too close to the flames. Instantly the room filledwith the stench of singed hair. Roddie drew angrily back, beating outthe sparks in his uncut blond mane.     As he stood slapping his head and muttering, a deranged Civil Defensefirefighter popped into the doorway and covered him with carbon dioxidefoam.     Roddie fled. His life-long friends were not merely wearing out, theywere unbearably wearing.  <doc-sep>Quickly, Roddie drew the hammer from his waist. Then, with weapon readyfor an instantaneous blow, he stretched his left hand through thedarkness. He touched something warm, softish. Gingerly he felt overthat curving surface for identifying features.     While Roddie investigated by touch, his long fingers were suddenlyseized and bitten. At the same time, his right shin received a savagekick. And his own retaliatory blow was checked in mid-swing by anunexpected voice.     Get your filthy hands off me! it whispered angrily. Who do you thinkyou are?     Startled, he dropped his hammer. I'm Roddie, he said, squatting tofumble for it. Who do you think      you     are?     I'm Ida, naturally! Just how many girls      are     there in this raidingparty?     His first Invader—and he had dropped his weapon!     Scrabbling fearfully in the dust for his hammer, Roddie pausedsuddenly. This girl—whatever      that     was—seemed to think him one ofher own kind. There was a chance, not much, but worth taking, to turndelay to advantage. Maybe he could learn something of value before hekilled her. That would make the soldiers accept him!     He stalled, seeking a gambit. How would      I     know how many girls thereare?     Half expecting a blow, he got instead an apology. I'm sorry, the girlsaid. I should have known. Never even heard your name before, either.Roddie.... Whose boat did you come in, Roddie?     Boat? What was a boat? How would I know? he repeated, voice tightwith fear of discovery.     If she noticed the tension, she didn't show it. Certainly her whisperwas friendly enough. Oh, you're one of the fellows from Bodega, then.They shoved a boy into our boat at the last minute, too. Tough, wasn'tit, getting separated in the fog and tide like that? If only we didn'thave to use boats.... But, say, how are we going to get away from here?     I wouldn't know, Roddie said, closing his fingers on the hammer, andrising. How did you get in?     Followed your footprints. It was sundown and I saw human tracks in thedust and they led me here. Where were you?     Scouting around, Roddie said vaguely. How did you know I was a manwhen I came back?     Because you couldn't see me, silly! You know perfectly well theseandroids are heat-sensitive and can locate us in the dark!     Indeed he did know! Many times he'd felt ashamed that Molly could findhim whenever she wanted to, even here in the manhole. But perhaps themanhole would help him now to redeem himself....  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What methods does Roddie use to determine the reason for his uniqueness compared to his peers in the story of Bridge Crossing?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in DR. KOMETEVSKY'S DAY? [SEP] <s>   DR. KOMETEVSKY'S DAY     By FRITZ LEIBER     Illustrated by DAVID STONE     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction February 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]         Before science, there was superstition. After       science, there will be ... what? The biggest,       most staggering     , most final      fact of them all!        But it's all predicted here! It even names this century for the nextreshuffling of the planets.     Celeste Wolver looked up unwillingly at the book her friend MadgeCarnap held aloft like a torch. She made out the ill-stamped title,      The Dance of the Planets     . There was no mistaking the time ofits origin; only paper from the Twentieth Century aged to thatparticularly nasty shade of brown. Indeed, the book seemed to Celestea brown old witch resurrected from the Last Age of Madness to confounda world growing sane, and she couldn't help shrinking back a trifletoward her husband Theodor.     He tried to come to her rescue. Only predicted in the vaguest way. AsI understand it, Kometevsky claimed, on the basis of a lot of evidencedrawn from folklore, that the planets and their moons trade positionsevery so often.     As if they were playing Going to Jerusalem, or musical chairs,Celeste chimed in, but she couldn't make it sound funny.     Jupiter was supposed to have started as the outermost planet, and isto end up in the orbit of Mercury, Theodor continued. Well, nothingat all like that has happened.     But it's begun, Madge said with conviction. Phobos and Deimos havedisappeared. You can't argue away that stubborn little fact.     That was the trouble; you couldn't. Mars' two tiny moons had simplyvanished during a period when, as was generally the case, the eyesof astronomy weren't on them. Just some hundred-odd cubic miles ofrock—the merest cosmic flyspecks—yet they had carried away with themthe security of a whole world.  <doc-sep>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>As Celeste and Theodor entered the committee room, Rosalind Wolver—aglitter of platinum against darkness—came in through the oppositedoor and softly shut it behind her. Frieda, a fair woman in blue robes,got up from the round table.     Celeste turned away with outward casualness as Theodor kissed his twoother wives. She was pleased to note that Edmund seemed impatient too.A figure in close-fitting black, unrelieved except for two red arrowsat the collar, he struck her as embodying very properly the serious,fateful temper of the moment.     He took two briefcases from his vest pocket and tossed them down on thetable beside one of the microfilm projectors.     I suggest we get started without waiting for Ivan, he said.     Frieda frowned anxiously. It's ten minutes since he phoned from theDeep Space Bar to say he was starting right away. And that's hardly atwo minutes walk.     Rosalind instantly started toward the outside door.     I'll check, she explained. Oh, Frieda, I've set the mike so you'llhear if Dotty calls.     Edmund threw up his hands. Very well, then, he said and walked over,switched on the picture and stared out moodily.     Theodor and Frieda got out their briefcases, switched on projectors,and began silently checking through their material.     Celeste fiddled with the TV and got a newscast. But she found her eyesdidn't want to absorb the blocks of print that rather swiftly succeededeach other, so, after a few moments, she shrugged impatiently andswitched to audio.     At the noise, the others looked around at her with surprise and someirritation, but in a few moments they were also listening.     The two rocket ships sent out from Mars Base to explore the orbitalpositions of Phobos and Deimos—that is, the volume of space they'd beoccupying if their positions had remained normal—report finding massesof dust and larger debris. The two masses of fine debris are movingin the same orbits and at the same velocities as the two vanishedmoons, and occupy roughly the same volumes of space, though the massof material is hardly a hundredth that of the moons. Physicists haveventured no statements as to whether this constitutes a confirmation ofthe Disintegration Hypothesis.     However, we're mighty pleased at this news here. There's a markedlessening of tension. The finding of the debris—solid, tangiblestuff—seems to lift the whole affair out of the supernatural miasma inwhich some of us have been tempted to plunge it. One-hundredth of themoons has been found.     The rest will also be!     Edmund had turned his back on the window. Frieda and Theodor hadswitched off their projectors.     Meanwhile, Earthlings are going about their business with a minimumof commotion, meeting with considerable calm the strange threat tothe fabric of their Solar System. Many, of course, are assembled inchurches and humanist temples. Kometevskyites have staged helicopterprocessions at Washington, Peking, Pretoria, and Christiana, demandingthat instant preparations be made for—and I quote—'Earth's comingleap through space.' They have also formally challenged all astronomersto produce an explanation other than the one contained in that strangebook so recently conjured from oblivion,      The Dance of the Planets     .     That about winds up the story for the present. There are no newreports from Interplanetary Radar, Astronomy, or the other rocket shipssearching in the extended Mars volume. Nor have any statements beenissued by the various groups working on the problem in Astrophysics,Cosmic Ecology, the Congress for the Discovery of New Purposes, and soforth. Meanwhile, however, we can take courage from the words of a poemwritten even before Dr. Kometevsky's book:   This Earth is not the steadfast place We landsmen build upon; From deep to deep she varies pace, And while she comes is gone. Beneath my feet I feel Her smooth bulk heave and dip; With velvet plunge and soft upreel She swings and steadies to her keel Like a gallant, gallant ship. <doc-sep>At first Don Alford had some trouble locating the POSAT headquarters.It seemed to him that the block in which the street number would fallwas occupied entirely by a huge sprawling warehouse, of concreteconstruction, and almost entirely windowless. It was recessed from thestreet in several places to make room for the small, shabby buildingsof a wholesale pharmacy, a printer's plant, an upholstering shop, andwas also indented by alleys lined with loading platforms.     It was at the back of one of the alleys that he finally found a doormarked with the now familiar emblem of POSAT.     He opened the frosted glass door with a feeling of misgiving, and faceda dark flight of stairs leading to the upper floor. Somewhere above hima buzzer sounded, evidently indicating his arrival. He picked his wayup through the murky stairwell.     The reception room was hardly a cheerful place, with its battered deskfacing the view of the empty alley, and a film of dust obscuring thepattern of the gray-looking wallpaper and worn rug. But the light ofthe summer afternoon filtering through the window scattered the gloomsomewhat, enough to help Don doubt that he would find the menace herethat he had come to expect.     The girl addressing envelopes at the desk looked very ordinary.      Notthe Mata-Hari type     , thought Don, with an inward chuckle at his ownsuspicions. He handed her the letter.     She smiled. We've been expecting you, Dr. Alford. If you'll just stepinto the next room—     She opened a door opposite the stairwell, and Don stepped through it.     The sight of the luxurious room before him struck his eyes with theshock of a dentist's drill, so great was the contrast between it andthe shabby reception room. For a moment Don had difficulty breathing.The rug—Don had seen one like it before, but it had been in a museum.The paintings on the walls, ornately framed in gilt carving, weresurely old masters—of the Renaissance period, he guessed. Although herecognized none of the pictures, he felt that he could almost name theartists. That glowing one near the corner would probably be a Titian.Or was it Tintorretto? He regretted for a moment the lost opportunitiesof his college days, when he had passed up Art History in favor ofOperational Circuit Analysis.     The girl opened a filing cabinet, the front of which was set flush withthe wall, and, selecting a folder from it, disappeared through anotherdoor.     Don sprang to examine the picture near the corner. It was hung at eyelevel—that is, at the eye level of the average person. Don had to bendover a bit to see it properly. He searched for a signature. Apparentlythere was none. But did artists sign their pictures back in thosedays? He wished he knew more about such things.     Each of the paintings was individually lighted by a fluorescent tubeheld on brackets directly above it. As Don straightened up from hisscrutiny of the picture, he inadvertently hit his head against thelight. The tube, dislodged from its brackets, fell to the rug with amuffled thud.       Now I've done it!     thought Don with dismay. But at least the tubehadn't shattered.     In fact—it was still glowing brightly! His eyes registered the fact,even while his mind refused to believe it. He raised his eyes to thebrackets. They were simple pieces of solid hardware designed to supportthe tube.     There were no wires!     Don picked up the slender, glowing cylinder and held it betweentrembling fingers. Although it was delivering as much light as a twoor three hundred watt bulb, it was cool to the touch. He examined itminutely. There was no possibility of concealed batteries.     The thumping of his heart was caused not by the fact that he had neverseen a similar tube before, but because he had. He had never heldone in his hands, though. The ones which his company had produced asexperimental models had been unsuccessful at converting all of theradioactivity into light, and had, of necessity, been heavily shielded.     Right now, two of his colleagues back in the laboratory would stillbe searching for the right combination of fluorescent materialand radioactive salts with which to make the simple, efficient,self-contained lighting unit that he was holding in his hand at thismoment!       But this is impossible!     he thought.      We're the only company that'sworking on this, and it's secret. There can't be any in actualproduction!       And even if one had actually been successfully produced, how would ithave fallen into the possession of POSAT, an Ancient Secret Society,The Perpetual Order of Seekers After Truth?     The conviction grew in Don's mind that here was something much deeperand more sinister than he would be able to cope with. He should haveasked for help, should have stated his suspicions to the police or theF.B.I. Even now—     With sudden decision, he thrust the lighting tube into his pocket andstepped swiftly to the outer door. He grasped the knob and shook itimpatiently when it stuck and refused to turn. He yanked at it. Hisimpatience changed to panic. It was locked!     A soft sound behind him made him whirl about. The secretary hadentered again through the inner door. She glanced at the vacant lightbracket, then significantly at his bulging pocket. Her gaze was stillas bland and innocent as when he had entered, but to Don she no longerseemed ordinary. Her very calmness in the face of his odd actions wasdistressingly ominous.     Our Grand Chairman will see you now, she said in a quiet voice.     Don realized that he was half crouched in the position of an animalexpecting attack. He straightened up with what dignity he could manageto find.     She opened the inner door again and Don followed her into what hesupposed to be the office of the Grand Chairman of POSAT.     Instead he found himself on a balcony along the side of a vast room,which must have been the interior of the warehouse that he had notedoutside. The girl motioned him toward the far end of the balcony, wherea frosted glass door marked the office of the Grand Chairman.       But Don could not will his legs to move. His heart beat at the sight ofthe room below him. It was a laboratory, but a laboratory the like ofwhich he had never seen before. Most of the equipment was unfamiliarto him. Whatever he did recognize was of a different design than he hadever used, and there was something about it that convinced him thatthis was more advanced. The men who bent busily over their instrumentsdid not raise their eyes to the figures on the balcony.     Good Lord! Don gasped. That's an atomic reactor down there! Therecould be no doubt about it, even though he could see it only obscurelythrough the bluish-green plastic shielding it.     His thoughts were so clamorous that he hardly realized that he hadspoken aloud, or that the door at the end of the balcony had opened.     He was only dimly aware of the approaching footsteps as he speculatedwildly on the nature of the shielding material. What could be so densethat only an inch would provide adequate shielding and yet remainsemitransparent?     His scientist's mind applauded the genius who had developed it, even asthe alarming conviction grew that he wouldn't—couldn't—be allowed toleave here any more. Surely no man would be allowed to leave this placealive to tell the fantastic story to the world!     Hello, Don, said a quiet voice beside him. It's good to see youagain.     Dr. Crandon! he heard his own voice reply.       You're     the GrandChairman of POSAT?     He felt betrayed and sick at heart. The very voice with whichCrandon had spoken conjured up visions of quiet lecture halls andhis own youthful excitement at the masterful and orderly disclosureof scientific facts. To find him here in this mad and treacherousplace—didn't anything make sense any longer?     I think we have rather abused you, Don, Dr. Crandon continued. Hisvoice sounded so gentle that Don found it hard to think there was anyevil in it. I can see that you are suspicious of us, and—yes—afraid.  <doc-sep>Looking at the lovely garden landscape around her, Celeste Wolver feltthat in a moment the shrubby hills would begin to roll like waves, thecharmingly aimless paths twist like snakes and sink in the green sea,the sparsely placed skyscrapers dissolve into the misty clouds theypierced.       People must have felt like this     , she thought,      when Aristarches firsthinted and Copernicus told them that the solid Earth under their feetwas falling dizzily through space. Only it's worse for us, because theycouldn't see that anything had changed. We can.       You need something to cling to, she heard Madge say. Dr. Kometevskywas the only person who ever had an inkling that anything like thismight happen. I was never a Kometevskyite before. Hadn't even heard ofthe man.     She said it almost apologetically. In fact, standing there so frank andanxious-eyed, Madge looked anything but a fanatic, which made it muchworse.     Of course, there are several more convincing alternateexplanations.... Theodor began hesitantly, knowing very well thatthere weren't. If Phobos and Deimos had suddenly disintegrated,surely Mars Base would have noticed something. Of course there was theDisordered Space Hypothesis, even if it was little more than the chancephrase of a prominent physicist pounded upon by an eager journalist.And in any case, what sense of security were you left with if youadmitted that moons and planets might explode, or drop through unseenholes in space? So he ended up by taking a different tack: Besides, ifPhobos and Deimos simply shot off somewhere, surely they'd have beenpicked up by now by 'scope or radar.     Two balls of rock just a few miles in diameter? Madge questioned.Aren't they smaller than many of the asteroids? I'm no astronomer, butI think' I'm right.     And of course she was.     She swung the book under her arm. Whew, it's heavy, she observed,adding in slightly scandalized tones, Never been microfilmed. Shesmiled nervously and looked them up and down. Going to a party? sheasked.     Theodor's scarlet cloak and Celeste's green culottes and silver jacketjustified the question, but they shook their heads.     Just the normally flamboyant garb of the family, Celeste said,while Theodor explained, As it happens, we're bound on businessconnected with the disappearance. We Wolvers practically constitutea sub-committee of the Congress for the Discovery of New Purposes.And since a lot of varied material comes to our attention, we'regoing to see if any of it correlates with this bit of astronomicalsleight-of-hand.     Madge nodded. Give you something to do, at any rate. Well, I must beoff. The Buddhist temple has lent us their place for a meeting. Shegave them a woeful grin. See you when the Earth jumps.     Theodor said to Celeste, Come on, dear. We'll be late.     But Celeste didn't want to move too fast. You know, Teddy, she saiduncomfortably, all this reminds me of those old myths where too muchgood fortune is a sure sign of coming disaster. It was just too muchluck, our great-grandparents missing World III and getting the WorldGovernment started a thousand years ahead of schedule. Luck like thatcouldn't last, evidently. Maybe we've gone too fast with a lot ofthings, like space-flight and the Deep Shaft and— she hesitated abit—complex marriages. I'm a woman. I want complete security. Wheream I to find it?     In me, Theodor said promptly.     In you? Celeste questioned, walking slowly. But you're justone-third of my husband. Perhaps I should look for it in Edmund orIvan.     You angry with me about something?     Of course not. But a woman wants her source of security whole. In acrisis like this, it's disturbing to have it divided.     Well, we are a whole and, I believe, indivisible family, Theodortold her warmly. You're not suggesting, are you, that we're going tobe punished for our polygamous sins by a cosmic catastrophe? Fire fromHeaven and all that?     Don't be silly. I just wanted to give you a picture of my feeling.Celeste smiled. I guess none of us realized how much we've come todepend on the idea of unchanging scientific law. Knocks the props fromunder you.     Theodor nodded emphatically. All the more reason to get a line onwhat's happening as quickly as possible. You know, it's fantasticallyfar-fetched, but I think the experience of persons with Extra-SensoryPerception may give us a clue. During the past three or four daysthere's been a remarkable similarity in the dreams of ESPs all over theplanet. I'm going to present the evidence at the meeting.     Celeste looked up at him. So that's why Rosalind's bringing Frieda'sdaughter?     Dotty is your daughter, too, and Rosalind's, Theodor reminded her.     No, just Frieda's, Celeste said bitterly. Of course you may be thefather. One-third of a chance.     Theodor looked at her sharply, but didn't comment. Anyway, Dotty willbe there, he said. Probably asleep by now. All the ESPs have suddenlyseemed to need more sleep.     As they talked, it had been growing darker, though the luminescence ofthe path kept it from being bothersome. And now the cloud rack partedto the east, showing a single red planet low on the horizon.     Did you know, Theodor said suddenly, that in      Gulliver's Travels     Dean Swift predicted that better telescopes would show Mars to have twomoons? He got the sizes and distances and periods damned accurately,too. One of the few really startling coincidences of reality andliterature.     Stop being eerie, Celeste said sharply. But then she went on, Thosenames Phobos and Deimos—they're Greek, aren't they? What do they mean?     Theodor lost a step. Fear and Terror, he said unwillingly. Nowdon't go taking that for an omen. Most of the mythological names ofmajor and minor ancient gods had been taken—the bodies in the SolarSystem are named that way, of course—and these were about all thatwere available.     It was true, but it didn't comfort him much.  <doc-sep>Barry opened his eyes. The ship was in normal deceleration and NickPodtiaguine was watching him from a nearby bunk.     I could eat a cow with the smallpox, Barry declared.     Nick grinned. No doubt. You slept around the clock and more. Nice jobof work out there.     Barry unhitched his straps and sat up.     Say, he asked anxiously. What's haywire with the air?     Nick looked startled. Nothing. Everything checked out when I came offwatch a few minutes ago.     Barry shrugged. Probably just me. Guess I'll go see if I can mooch ahandout.     He found himself a hero. The cook was ready to turn the galley insideout while a radio engineer and an entomologist hovered near to wait onhim. But he couldn't enjoy the meal. The sensations of heat and drynesshe had noticed on awakening grew steadily worse. It became difficult tobreathe.     He started to rise, and abruptly the room swirled and darkened aroundhim. Even as he sank into unconsciousness he knew the answer.     The suit's Kendall-shield had leaked!     Four plunged toward Venus tail first, the Hoskins jets flaring ahead.The single doctor for the Colony had gone out in Two and the crewmentrained in first aid could do little to relieve Barry's distress.Fainting spells alternated with fever and delirium and an unquenchablethirst. His breathing became increasingly difficult.     A few thousand miles out Four picked up a microbeam. A feeling ofexultation surged through the ship as Captain Reno passed the word, forthe beam meant that some Earthmen were alive upon Venus. They were notnecessarily diving straight toward oblivion. Barry, sick as he was,felt the thrill of the unknown world that lay ahead.     Into a miles-thick layer of opacity Four roared, with Captain Renohimself jockeying throttles to keep it balanced on its self-createdsupport of flame.     You're almost in, a voice chanted into his headphones throughcrackling, sizzling static. Easy toward spherical one-thirty. Hold it!Lower. Lower. CUT YOUR POWER!     The heavy hull dropped sickeningly, struck with a mushy thud, settled,steadied.     Barry was weak, but with Nick Podtiaguine steadying him he was waitingwith the others when Captain Reno gave the last order.     Airlock open. Both doors.     Venusian air poured in.     For this I left Panama? one of the men yelped.     Enough to gag a maggot, another agreed with hand to nose.     It was like mid-summer noon in a tropical mangrove swamp, hot andunbearably humid and overpowering with the stench of decayingvegetation.     But Barry took one deep breath, then another. The stabbing needles inhis chest blunted, and the choking band around his throat loosened.     The outer door swung wide. He blinked, and a shift in the encompassingvapors gave him his first sight of a world bathed in subdued light.     Four had landed in a marsh with the midships lock only a few feet abovea quagmire surface still steaming from the final rocket blast. Nearbythe identical hulls of Two and Three stood upright in the mud. Themist shifted again and beyond the swamp he could see the low, roundedoutlines of the collapsible buildings Two and Three had carried intheir cargo pits. They were set on a rock ledge rising a few feet outof the marsh. The Colony!     Men were tossing sections of lattice duckboard out upon the swamp,extending a narrow walkway toward Four's airlock, and within a fewminutes the new arrivals were scrambling down.     Barry paid little attention to the noisy greetings and excited talk.Impatiently he trotted toward the rock ledge, searching for oneparticular figure among the men and women who waited.     Dorothy! he said fervently.     Then his arms were around her and she was responding to his kiss.     Then unexpected pain tore at his chest. Her lovely face took on anexpression of fright even as it wavered and grew dim. The last thing hesaw was Robson Hind looming beside her.     By the glow of an overhead tubelight he recognized the kindly, deeplylined features of the man bending over him. Dr. Carl Jensen, specialistin tropical diseases. He tried to sit up but the doctor laid arestraining hand on his shoulder.     Water! Barry croaked.     The doctor held out a glass. Then his eyes widened incredulously as hispatient deliberately drew in a breath while drinking, sucking waterdirectly into his lungs.     Doctor, he asked, keeping his voice low to spare his throat. Whatare my chances? On the level.     Dr. Jensen shook his head thoughtfully. There's not a thing—not adamned solitary thing—I can do. It's something new to medical science.     Barry lay still.     Your body is undergoing certain radical changes, the doctorcontinued, and you know as much—more about your condition than I do.If a normal person who took water into his lungs that way didn't die ofa coughing spasm, congestive pneumonia would get him sure. But it seemsto give you relief.     Barry scratched his neck, where a thickened, darkening patch on eachside itched infuriatingly.     What are these changes? he asked. What's this?     Those things seem to be— the doctor began hesitantly. Damn it, Iknow it sounds crazy but they're rudimentary gills.     Barry accepted the outrageous statement unemotionally. He was beyondshock.     But there must be—     Pain struck again, so intense his body twisted and archedinvoluntarily. Then the prick of a needle brought merciful oblivion.      II     Barry's mind was working furiously. The changes the Sigma radiationshad inflicted upon his body might reverse themselves spontaneously, Dr.Jensen had mentioned during a second visit—but for that to happen hemust remain alive. That meant easing all possible strains.     When the doctor came in again Barry asked him to find Nick Podtiaguine.Within a few minutes the mechanic appeared.     Cheez, it's good to see you, Barry, he began.     Stuff it, the sick man interrupted. I want favors. Can do?     Nick nodded vigorously.     First cut that air conditioner and get the window open.     Nick stared as though he were demented, but obeyed, unbolting the heavyplastic window panel and lifting it aside. He made a face at the damp,malodorous Venusian air but to Barry it brought relief.     It was not enough, but it indicated he was on the right track. And hewas not an engineer for nothing.     Got a pencil? he asked.     He drew only a rough sketch, for Nick was far too competent to needdetailed drawings.     Think you can get materials?     Nick glanced at the sketch. Hell, man, for you I can get anything theColony has. You saved Four and everybody knows it.     Two days?     Nick looked insulted.     He was back in eight hours, and with him came a dozen helpers. Apower line and water tube were run through the metal partition to thecorridor, connections were made, and the machine Barry had sketched wasready.     Nick flipped the switch. The thing whined shrilly. From a fanshapednozzle came innumerable droplets of water, droplets of colloidal sizethat hung in the air and only slowly coalesced into larger drops thatfell toward the metal floor.     Barry nodded, a smile beginning to spread across his drawn features.     Perfect. Now put the window back.     Outside lay the unknown world of Venus, and an open, unguarded windowmight invite disaster.     A few hours later Dr. Jensen found his patient in a normal sleep. Theroom was warm and the air was so filled with water-mist it was almostliquid. Coalescing drops dripped from the walls and curving ceilingand furniture, from the half clad body of the sleeping man, and thescavenger pump made greedy gulping sounds as it removed excess waterfrom the floor.     The doctor shook his head as he backed out, his clothes clinging wetfrom the short exposure.     It was abnormal.     But so was Barry Barr.     With breathing no longer a continuous agony Barry began to recover someof his strength. But for several days much of his time was spent insleep and Dorothy Voorhees haunted his dreams.     Whenever he closed his eyes he could see her as clearly as thoughshe were with him—her face with the exotic high cheek-bones—hereyes a deep gray in fascinating contrast to her raven hair—lips thatseemed to promise more of giving than she had ever allowed herself tofulfil—her incongruously pert, humorous little nose that was a legacyfrom some venturesome Irishman—her slender yet firmly lithe body.     After a few days Dr. Jensen permitted him to have visitors. They camein a steady stream, the people from Four and men he had not seen sinceTraining Base days, and although none could endure his semi-liquidatmosphere more than a few minutes at a time Barry enjoyed their visits.     But the person for whom he waited most anxiously did not arrive. Ateach knock Barry's heart would leap, and each time he settled back witha sigh of disappointment. Days passed and still Dorothy did not cometo him. He could not go to her, and stubborn pride kept him from eveninquiring. All the while he was aware of Robson Hind's presence in theColony, and only weakness kept him from pacing his room like a cagedanimal.     Through his window he could see nothing but the gradual brighteningand darkening of the enveloping fog as the slow 82-hour Venusian dayprogressed, but from his visitors' words he learned something ofVenusian conditions and the story of the Colony.     Number One had bumbled in on visual, the pilot depending on the smearyimages of infra-sight goggles. An inviting grassy plain had proved tobe a layer of algae floating on quicksand. Frantically the crew hadblasted down huge balsa-like marsh trees, cutting up the trunks withflame guns to make crude rafts. They had performed fantastic feats ofstrength and endurance but managed to salvage only half their equipmentbefore the shining nose of One had vanished in the gurgling ooze.     Lost in a steaming, stinking marsh teeming with alien creatures thatslithered and crawled and swam and flew, blinded by the eternal fog,the crew had proved the rightness of their choice as pioneers. Forweeks they had floundered across the deadly terrain until at last,beside a stagnant-looking slough that drained sluggishly into a warm,almost tideless sea a mile away, they had discovered an outcropping ofrock. It was the only solid ground they had encountered.     One man had died, his swamp suit pierced by a poisonous thorn, but theothers had hand-hauled the radio beacon piece by piece and set it upin time to guide Two to a safe landing. Houses had been assembled, thesecondary power units of the spaceship put to work, and the colony hadestablished a tenuous foothold.     Three had landed beside Two a few months later, bringingreinforcements, but the day-by-day demands of the little colony'sstruggle for survival had so far been too pressing to permit extendedor detailed explorations. Venus remained a planet of unsolved mysteries.     The helicopter brought out in Three had made several flights whichby radar and sound reflection had placed vague outlines on the blankmaps. The surface appeared to be half water, with land masses mainlyjungle-covered swamp broken by a few rocky ledges, but landings awayfrom base had been judged too hazardous.     Test borings from the ledge had located traces of oil and radioactiveminerals, while enough Venusian plants had proven edible to provide anadequate though monotonous food source.     Venus was the diametric opposite of lifeless Mars. Through the foggigantic insects hummed and buzzed like lost airplanes, but fortunatelythey were harmless and timid.     In the swamps wildly improbable life forms grew and reproduced andfought and died, and many of those most harmless in appearancepossessed surprisingly venomous characteristics.     The jungle had been flamed away in a huge circle around the colony tominimize the chances of surprise by anything that might attack, but theblasting was an almost continuous process. The plants of Venus grewwith a vigor approaching fury.     Most spectacular of the Venusian creatures were the amphibious armoredmonsters, saurian or semi-saurians with a slight resemblance to thebrontosauri that had once lived on Earth, massive swamp-dwellers thatused the slough beside the colony's ledge as a highway. They wereapparently vegetarians, but thorough stupidity in tremendous bulk madethem dangerous. One had damaged a building by blundering against it,and since then the colony had remained alert, using weapons to repelthe beasts.     The most important question—that of the presence or absence ofintelligent, civilized Venusians—remained unanswered. Some of the menreported a disquieting feeling of being watched, particularly when nearopen water, but others argued that any intelligent creatures would haveestablished contact.  <doc-sep>Macklin's traditional ranch house was small but attractive inaqua-tinted aluminum.     Under Mitchell's thumb the bell chimbed      dum-de-de-dum-dum-dum     .     As they waited Mitchell glanced at Ferris. He seemed completelyundisturbed, perhaps slightly curious.     The door unlatched and swung back.     Mrs. Macklin, Mitchell said quickly, I'm sure we can help if thereis anything wrong with your husband. This is Dr. Ferris. I am Dr.Mitchell.     You had certainly      better     help him, gentlemen. She stood out of thedoorway for them to pass.     Mrs. Macklin was an attractive brunette in her late thirties. She worean expensive yellow dress. And she had a sharp-cornered jawline.     The Army officer came out into the hall to meet them.     You are the gentlemen who gave Dr. Macklin the unauthorizedinjection, he said.     It wasn't a question.     I don't like that 'unauthorized', Ferris snapped.     The colonel—Mitchell spotted the eagles on his green tunic—lifteda heavy eyebrow. No? Are you medical doctors? Are you authorized totreat illnesses?     We weren't treating an illness, Mitchell said. We were discovering amethod of treatment. What concern is it of yours?     The colonel smiled thinly. Dr. Macklin is my concern. And everythingthat happens to him. The Army doesn't like what you have done to him.     Mitchell wondered desperately just what they had done to the man.     Can we see him? Mitchell asked.     Why not? You can't do much worse than murder him now. That might bejust as well. We have laws to cover that.     The colonel led them into the comfortable, over-feminine living room.Macklin sat in an easy chair draped in embroidery, smoking. Mitchellsuddenly realized Macklin used a pipe as a form of masculine protest tohis home surroundings.     On the coffee table in front of Macklin were some odd-shaped buildingblocks such as were used in nursery schools. A second uniformedman—another colonel but with the snake-entwined staff of the medicalcorps in his insignia—was kneeling at the table on the marble-effectcarpet.     The Army physician stood up and brushed his knees, undusted from thescrupulously clean rug.     What's wrong with him, Sidney? the other officer asked the doctor.     Not a thing, Sidney said. He's the healthiest, happiest, mostwell-adjusted man I've ever examined, Carson.     But— Colonel Carson protested.     Oh, he's changed all right, the Army doctor answered. He's not thesame man as he used to be.     How is he different? Mitchell demanded.     The medic examined Mitchell and Ferris critically before answering. Heused to be a mathematical genius.     And now? Mitchell said impatiently.     Now he is a moron, the medic said.      III     Mitchell tried to stop Colonel Sidney as he went past, but the doctormumbled he had a report to make.     Mitchell and Ferris stared at Colonel Carson and Macklin and at eachother.     What did he mean, Macklin is an idiot? Mitchell asked.     Not an idiot, Colonel Carson corrected primly. Dr. Macklin is amoron. He's legally responsible, but he's extremely stupid.     I'm not so dumb, Macklin said defensively.     I beg your pardon, sir, Carson said. I didn't intend any offense.But according to all the standard intelligence tests we have given you,your clinical intelligence quotient is that of a moron.     That's just on book learning, Macklin said. There's a lot you learnin life that you don't get out of books, son.     I'm confident that's true, sir, Colonel Carson said. He turned to thetwo biologists. Perhaps we had better speak outside.     But— Mitchell said, impatient to examine Macklin for himself. Verywell. Let's step into the hall.     Ferris followed them docilely.     What have you done to him? the colonel asked straightforwardly.     We merely cured him of his headaches, Mitchell said.     How?     Mitchell did his best to explain the F-M Virus.     You mean, the Army officer said levelly you have infected him withsome kind of a disease to rot his brain?     No, no! Could I talk to the other man, the doctor? Maybe I can makehim understand.     All I want to know is why Elliot Macklin has been made as simple as ifhe had been kicked in the head by a mule, Colonel Carson said.     I think I can explain, Ferris interrupted.     You can? Mitchell said.     Ferris nodded. We made a slight miscalculation. It appears as if thevirus colony overcontrols the supply of posterior pituitary extract inthe cerebrum. It isn't more than necessary to stop headaches. But thatnecessary amount of control to stop pain is too much to allow the braincells to function properly.     Why won't they function? Carson roared.     They don't get enough food—blood, oxygen, hemoglobin, Ferrisexplained. The cerebral vessels don't contract enough to pump theblood through the brain as fast and as hard as is needed. The braincells remain sluggish, dormant. Perhaps decaying.     The colonel yelled.     Mitchell groaned. He was abruptly sure Ferris was correct.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in DR. KOMETEVSKY'S DAY?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What does the principle of mental privacy entail in DR. KOMETEVSKY'S DAY? [SEP] <s>   DR. KOMETEVSKY'S DAY     By FRITZ LEIBER     Illustrated by DAVID STONE     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction February 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]         Before science, there was superstition. After       science, there will be ... what? The biggest,       most staggering     , most final      fact of them all!        But it's all predicted here! It even names this century for the nextreshuffling of the planets.     Celeste Wolver looked up unwillingly at the book her friend MadgeCarnap held aloft like a torch. She made out the ill-stamped title,      The Dance of the Planets     . There was no mistaking the time ofits origin; only paper from the Twentieth Century aged to thatparticularly nasty shade of brown. Indeed, the book seemed to Celestea brown old witch resurrected from the Last Age of Madness to confounda world growing sane, and she couldn't help shrinking back a trifletoward her husband Theodor.     He tried to come to her rescue. Only predicted in the vaguest way. AsI understand it, Kometevsky claimed, on the basis of a lot of evidencedrawn from folklore, that the planets and their moons trade positionsevery so often.     As if they were playing Going to Jerusalem, or musical chairs,Celeste chimed in, but she couldn't make it sound funny.     Jupiter was supposed to have started as the outermost planet, and isto end up in the orbit of Mercury, Theodor continued. Well, nothingat all like that has happened.     But it's begun, Madge said with conviction. Phobos and Deimos havedisappeared. You can't argue away that stubborn little fact.     That was the trouble; you couldn't. Mars' two tiny moons had simplyvanished during a period when, as was generally the case, the eyesof astronomy weren't on them. Just some hundred-odd cubic miles ofrock—the merest cosmic flyspecks—yet they had carried away with themthe security of a whole world.  <doc-sep>He could tell from their looks that the others did, but couldn't bringthemselves to put it into words.     I suppose it's the time-scale and the value-scale that are so hard forus to accept, he said softly. Much more, even, than the size-scale.The thought that there are creatures in the Universe to whom the wholecareer of Man—in fact, the whole career of life—is no more than a fewthousand or hundred thousand years. And to whom Man is no more than aminor stage property—a trifling part of a clever job of camouflage.     This time he went on, Fantasy writers have at times hinted all sortsof odd things about the Earth—that it might even be a kind of singleliving creature, or honeycombed with inhabited caverns, and so on.But I don't know that any of them have ever suggested that the Earth,together with all the planets and moons of the Solar System, mightbe....     In a whisper, Frieda finished for him, ... a camouflaged fleet ofgigantic spherical spaceships.           Your guess happens to be the precise truth.          At that familiar, yet dreadly unfamiliar voice, all four of them swungtoward the inner door. Dotty was standing there, a sleep-stupefiedlittle girl with a blanket caught up around her and dragging behind.Their own daughter. But in her eyes was a look from which they cringed.     She said, I am a creature somewhat older than what your geologistscall the Archeozoic Era. I am speaking to you through a number oftelepathically sensitive individuals among your kind. In each case mythoughts suit themselves to your level of comprehension. I inhabit thedisguised and jetless spaceship which is your Earth.     Celeste swayed a step forward. Baby.... she implored.     Dotty went on, without giving her a glance, It is true that we plantedthe seeds of life on some of these planets simply as part of ourcamouflage, just as we gave them a suitable environment for each. Andit is true that now we must let most of that life be destroyed. Ourhiding place has been discovered, our pursuers are upon us, and we mustmake one last effort to escape or do battle, since we firmly believethat the principle of mental privacy to which we have devoted ourexistence is perhaps the greatest good in the whole Universe.     But it is not true that we look with contempt upon you. Our whole raceis deeply devoted to life, wherever it may come into being, and it isour rule never to interfere with its development. That was one ofthe reasons we made life a part of our camouflage—it would make ourpursuers reluctant to examine these planets too closely.     Yes, we have always cherished you and watched your evolution withinterest from our hidden lairs. We may even unconsciously have shapedyour development in certain ways, trying constantly to educate you awayfrom war and finally succeeding—which may have given the betrayingclue to our pursuers.     Your planets must be burst asunder—this particular planet in thearea of the Pacific—so that we may have our last chance to escape.Even if we did not move, our pursuers would destroy you with us. Wecannot invite you inside our ships—not for lack of space, but becauseyou could never survive the vast accelerations to which you would besubjected. You would, you see, need very special accommodations, ofwhich we have enough only for a few.     Those few we will take with us, as the seed from which a new humanrace may—if we ourselves somehow survive—be born.  <doc-sep>Edmund rapped for attention. Celeste, Frieda, and Theodor glancedaround at him. He looked more frightfully strained, they realized, thaneven they felt. His expression was a study in suppressed excitement,but there were also signs of a knowledge that was almost toooverpowering for a human being to bear.     His voice was clipped, rapid. I think it's about time we stoppedworrying about our own affairs and thought of those of the SolarSystem, partly because I think they have a direct bearing on thedisappearances of Ivan end Rosalind. As I told you, I've been sortingout the crucial items from the material we've been presenting. Thereare roughly four of those items, as I see it. It's rather like amystery story. I wonder if, hearing those four clues, you will come tothe same conclusion I have.     The others nodded.     First, there are the latest reports from Deep Shaft, which, asyou know, has been sunk to investigate deep-Earth conditions. Atapproximately twenty-nine miles below the surface, the delvers haveencountered a metallic obstruction which they have tentatively namedthe durasphere. It resists their hardest drills, their strongestcorrosives. They have extended a side-tunnel at that level for aquarter of a mile. Delicate measurements, made possible by themirror-smooth metal surface, show that the durasphere has a slightcurvature that is almost exactly equal to the curvature of the Earthitself. The suggestion is that deep borings made anywhere in the worldwould encounter the durasphere at the same depth.     Second, the movements of the moons of Mars and Jupiter, andparticularly the debris left behind by the moons of Mars. GrantingPhobos and Deimos had duraspheres proportional in size to that ofEarth, then the debris would roughly equal in amount the material inthose two duraspheres' rocky envelopes. The suggestion is that thetwo duraspheres suddenly burst from their envelopes with such titanicvelocity as to leave those disrupted envelopes behind.     It was deadly quiet in the committee room.     Thirdly, the disappearances of Ivan and Rosalind, and especiallythe baffling hint—from Ivan's message in one case and Rosalind'sdownward-pointing glove in the other—that they were both somehow drawninto the depths of the Earth.     Finally, the dreams of the ESPs, which agree overwhelmingly in thefollowing points: A group of beings separate themselves from a godlikeand telepathic race because they insist on maintaining a degree ofmental privacy. They flee in great boats or ships of some sort. Theyare pursued on such a scale that there is no hiding place for themanywhere in the universe. In some manner they successfully camouflagetheir ships. Eons pass and their still-fanatical pursuers do notpenetrate their secret. Then, suddenly, they are detected.     Edmund waited. Do you see what I'm driving at? he asked hoarsely.  <doc-sep>As Celeste and Theodor entered the committee room, Rosalind Wolver—aglitter of platinum against darkness—came in through the oppositedoor and softly shut it behind her. Frieda, a fair woman in blue robes,got up from the round table.     Celeste turned away with outward casualness as Theodor kissed his twoother wives. She was pleased to note that Edmund seemed impatient too.A figure in close-fitting black, unrelieved except for two red arrowsat the collar, he struck her as embodying very properly the serious,fateful temper of the moment.     He took two briefcases from his vest pocket and tossed them down on thetable beside one of the microfilm projectors.     I suggest we get started without waiting for Ivan, he said.     Frieda frowned anxiously. It's ten minutes since he phoned from theDeep Space Bar to say he was starting right away. And that's hardly atwo minutes walk.     Rosalind instantly started toward the outside door.     I'll check, she explained. Oh, Frieda, I've set the mike so you'llhear if Dotty calls.     Edmund threw up his hands. Very well, then, he said and walked over,switched on the picture and stared out moodily.     Theodor and Frieda got out their briefcases, switched on projectors,and began silently checking through their material.     Celeste fiddled with the TV and got a newscast. But she found her eyesdidn't want to absorb the blocks of print that rather swiftly succeededeach other, so, after a few moments, she shrugged impatiently andswitched to audio.     At the noise, the others looked around at her with surprise and someirritation, but in a few moments they were also listening.     The two rocket ships sent out from Mars Base to explore the orbitalpositions of Phobos and Deimos—that is, the volume of space they'd beoccupying if their positions had remained normal—report finding massesof dust and larger debris. The two masses of fine debris are movingin the same orbits and at the same velocities as the two vanishedmoons, and occupy roughly the same volumes of space, though the massof material is hardly a hundredth that of the moons. Physicists haveventured no statements as to whether this constitutes a confirmation ofthe Disintegration Hypothesis.     However, we're mighty pleased at this news here. There's a markedlessening of tension. The finding of the debris—solid, tangiblestuff—seems to lift the whole affair out of the supernatural miasma inwhich some of us have been tempted to plunge it. One-hundredth of themoons has been found.     The rest will also be!     Edmund had turned his back on the window. Frieda and Theodor hadswitched off their projectors.     Meanwhile, Earthlings are going about their business with a minimumof commotion, meeting with considerable calm the strange threat tothe fabric of their Solar System. Many, of course, are assembled inchurches and humanist temples. Kometevskyites have staged helicopterprocessions at Washington, Peking, Pretoria, and Christiana, demandingthat instant preparations be made for—and I quote—'Earth's comingleap through space.' They have also formally challenged all astronomersto produce an explanation other than the one contained in that strangebook so recently conjured from oblivion,      The Dance of the Planets     .     That about winds up the story for the present. There are no newreports from Interplanetary Radar, Astronomy, or the other rocket shipssearching in the extended Mars volume. Nor have any statements beenissued by the various groups working on the problem in Astrophysics,Cosmic Ecology, the Congress for the Discovery of New Purposes, and soforth. Meanwhile, however, we can take courage from the words of a poemwritten even before Dr. Kometevsky's book:   This Earth is not the steadfast place We landsmen build upon; From deep to deep she varies pace, And while she comes is gone. Beneath my feet I feel Her smooth bulk heave and dip; With velvet plunge and soft upreel She swings and steadies to her keel Like a gallant, gallant ship. <doc-sep>Somebody said, Doctor!     He wanted to say, Yes, get a doctor. Lorelei— but his mouth onlytwitched feebly. He couldn't seem to get it to work properly.     He tried again. Doctor.     Yes? A gentle, masculine voice.     He opened his eyes with an effort. There was a blurred face before him;in a moment it grew clearer. The strong, clean-shaven chin contrastedoddly with the haggard circles under the eyes. There was a clean,starched odor.     Where am I? he said. He tried to turn his head, but a firm handpressed him back into the sheets.     You're in a hospital. Just lie quietly, please.     He tried to get up again. Where's Lorelei?     She's well, and you'll see her soon. Now lie quietly. You've been avery sick man.     Peter sank back in the bed. The room was coming into focus. He lookedaround him slowly. He felt very weak, but perfectly lucid.     Yes.... he said. How long have I been here, Doctor?     The man hesitated, looked at him intently. Three months, he said. Heturned and gave low-voiced instructions to a nurse, and then went away.     Peter's head began spinning just a little. Glass clinked from a metalstand near his head; the nurse bent over him with a glass half full ofmilky fluid. It tasted awful, but she made him drink it all.     In a moment he began to relax, and the room got fuzzy again. Justbefore he drifted off, he said sleepily, You can't—fool me. It's been      more     —than three—months.     He was right. All the nurses, and even Dr. Arnold, were evasive, but hekept asking them why he couldn't see Lorelei, and finally he wormed itout of them. It had been nine and a half months, not three, and he'dbeen in a coma all that time. Lorelei, it seemed, had recovered muchsooner.     She was only suffering from ordinary shock, Arnold explained.Seeing that assistant of hers—it was enough to knock anybody out,especially a woman. But you stood actual mental contact with      them     for approximately five minutes. Yes, we know—you talked a lot. It's amiracle you're alive, and rational.     But where is she? Peter complained. You still haven't explained whyI haven't been able to see her.     Arnold frowned. All right, he said. I guess you're strong enough totake it. She's underground, with the rest of the women and children,and a good two-thirds of the male population. That's where you'll go,as soon as you're well enough to be moved. We started digging in sixmonths ago.     But why? Peter whispered.     Arnold's strong jaw knotted. We're hiding, he said. Everything elsehas failed.     Peter couldn't think of anything to say. Dr. Arnold's voice went onafter a moment, musingly. We're burrowing into the earth, like worms.It didn't take us long to find out we couldn't kill them. They didn'teven take any notice of our attempts to do so, except once. That waswhen a squadron of the Police caught about fifty of them together atone time, and attacked with flame guns and a new secret weapon. Itdidn't hurt them, but it annoyed them. It was the first time they'dbeen annoyed, I think. They blew up half a state, and it's stillsmoldering.     And since then? Peter asked huskily.     Since then, we've been burrowing. All the big cities.... It would bean impossible task if we tried to include all the thinly-populatedareas, of course, but it doesn't matter. By the time we excavateenough to take care of a quarter of the earth's population, the otherthree-quarters will be dead, or worse.     I wonder, Peter said shakily, if I am strong enough to take it.     Arnold laughed harshly. You are. You've got to be. You're part of ourlast hope, you see.     Our last hope?     Yes. You're a scientist.     I see, said Peter. And for the first time, he thought of the      Citadel     . No plan leaped full-born into his mind, but,      maybe     , hethought,      there's a chance     ....  <doc-sep>It isn't so much our defense that worries me, my mother muttered, aslack of adequate medical machinery. War is bound to mean casualtiesand there aren't enough cure-alls on the planet to take care of them.It's useless to expect the government to build more right now; they'llbe too busy producing weapons. Sylvia, you'd better take a leave ofabsence from your job and come down to Psycho Center to learn first-aidtechniques. And you too, Kevin, she added, obviously a littlesurprised herself at what she was saying. Probably you'd be evenbetter at it than Sylvia since you aren't sensitive to other people'spain.     I looked at her.     It      is     an ill wind, she agreed, smiling wryly, but don't let mecatch you thinking that way, Kevin. Can't you see it would be betterthat there should be no war and you should remain useless?     I couldn't see it, of course, and she knew that, with her wretchedtalent for stripping away my feeble attempts at privacy. Psi-powersusually included some ability to form a mental shield; being withoutone, I was necessarily devoid of the other.     My attitude didn't matter, though, because it was definitely war. Thealiens came back with a fleet clearly bent on our annihilation—eventhe 'paths couldn't figure out their motives, for the thought patternwas entirely different from ours—and the war was on.     I had enjoyed learning first-aid; it was the first time I had everworked with people as an equal. And I was good at it because psi-powersaren't much of an advantage there. Telekinesis maybe a little, butI was big enough to lift anybody without needing any superhumanabilities—normal human abilities, rather.     Gee, Mr. Faraday, one of the other students breathed, you're sostrong. And without 'kinesis or anything.     I looked at her and liked what I saw. She was blonde and pretty. Myname's not Mr. Faraday, I said. It's Kevin.     My name's Lucy, she giggled.     No girl had ever giggled at me in that way before. Immediately Istarted to envision a beautiful future for the two of us, then flushedwhen I realized that she might be a telepath. But she was winding atourniquet around the arm of another member of the class with apparentunconcern.     Hey, quit that! the windee yelled. You're making it too tight! I'llbe mortified!     So Lucy was obviously not a telepath. Later I found out she was onlya low-grade telesensitive—just a poetess—so I had nothing to worryabout as far as having my thoughts read went. I was a little afraid ofSylvia's kidding me about my first romance, but, as it happened, shegot interested in one of the guys who was taking the class with us, andshe was not only too busy to be bothered with me, but in too vulnerablea position herself.     However, when the actual bombs—or their alien equivalent—struck nearour town, I wasn't nearly so happy, especially after they startedcarrying the wounded into the Psycho Center, which had been turned intoa hospital for the duration. I took one look at the gory scene—I hadnever seen anybody really injured before; few people had, as a matterof fact—and started for the door. But Mother was already blocking theway. It was easy to see from which side of the family Tim had got histalent for prognostication.     If the telepaths who can pick up all the pain can stand this, Kevin,she said,       you     certainly can. And there was no kindness at all inthe      you     .     She gave me a shove toward the nearest stretcher. Go on—now's yourchance to show you're of some use in this world.  <doc-sep>Looking at the lovely garden landscape around her, Celeste Wolver feltthat in a moment the shrubby hills would begin to roll like waves, thecharmingly aimless paths twist like snakes and sink in the green sea,the sparsely placed skyscrapers dissolve into the misty clouds theypierced.       People must have felt like this     , she thought,      when Aristarches firsthinted and Copernicus told them that the solid Earth under their feetwas falling dizzily through space. Only it's worse for us, because theycouldn't see that anything had changed. We can.       You need something to cling to, she heard Madge say. Dr. Kometevskywas the only person who ever had an inkling that anything like thismight happen. I was never a Kometevskyite before. Hadn't even heard ofthe man.     She said it almost apologetically. In fact, standing there so frank andanxious-eyed, Madge looked anything but a fanatic, which made it muchworse.     Of course, there are several more convincing alternateexplanations.... Theodor began hesitantly, knowing very well thatthere weren't. If Phobos and Deimos had suddenly disintegrated,surely Mars Base would have noticed something. Of course there was theDisordered Space Hypothesis, even if it was little more than the chancephrase of a prominent physicist pounded upon by an eager journalist.And in any case, what sense of security were you left with if youadmitted that moons and planets might explode, or drop through unseenholes in space? So he ended up by taking a different tack: Besides, ifPhobos and Deimos simply shot off somewhere, surely they'd have beenpicked up by now by 'scope or radar.     Two balls of rock just a few miles in diameter? Madge questioned.Aren't they smaller than many of the asteroids? I'm no astronomer, butI think' I'm right.     And of course she was.     She swung the book under her arm. Whew, it's heavy, she observed,adding in slightly scandalized tones, Never been microfilmed. Shesmiled nervously and looked them up and down. Going to a party? sheasked.     Theodor's scarlet cloak and Celeste's green culottes and silver jacketjustified the question, but they shook their heads.     Just the normally flamboyant garb of the family, Celeste said,while Theodor explained, As it happens, we're bound on businessconnected with the disappearance. We Wolvers practically constitutea sub-committee of the Congress for the Discovery of New Purposes.And since a lot of varied material comes to our attention, we'regoing to see if any of it correlates with this bit of astronomicalsleight-of-hand.     Madge nodded. Give you something to do, at any rate. Well, I must beoff. The Buddhist temple has lent us their place for a meeting. Shegave them a woeful grin. See you when the Earth jumps.     Theodor said to Celeste, Come on, dear. We'll be late.     But Celeste didn't want to move too fast. You know, Teddy, she saiduncomfortably, all this reminds me of those old myths where too muchgood fortune is a sure sign of coming disaster. It was just too muchluck, our great-grandparents missing World III and getting the WorldGovernment started a thousand years ahead of schedule. Luck like thatcouldn't last, evidently. Maybe we've gone too fast with a lot ofthings, like space-flight and the Deep Shaft and— she hesitated abit—complex marriages. I'm a woman. I want complete security. Wheream I to find it?     In me, Theodor said promptly.     In you? Celeste questioned, walking slowly. But you're justone-third of my husband. Perhaps I should look for it in Edmund orIvan.     You angry with me about something?     Of course not. But a woman wants her source of security whole. In acrisis like this, it's disturbing to have it divided.     Well, we are a whole and, I believe, indivisible family, Theodortold her warmly. You're not suggesting, are you, that we're going tobe punished for our polygamous sins by a cosmic catastrophe? Fire fromHeaven and all that?     Don't be silly. I just wanted to give you a picture of my feeling.Celeste smiled. I guess none of us realized how much we've come todepend on the idea of unchanging scientific law. Knocks the props fromunder you.     Theodor nodded emphatically. All the more reason to get a line onwhat's happening as quickly as possible. You know, it's fantasticallyfar-fetched, but I think the experience of persons with Extra-SensoryPerception may give us a clue. During the past three or four daysthere's been a remarkable similarity in the dreams of ESPs all over theplanet. I'm going to present the evidence at the meeting.     Celeste looked up at him. So that's why Rosalind's bringing Frieda'sdaughter?     Dotty is your daughter, too, and Rosalind's, Theodor reminded her.     No, just Frieda's, Celeste said bitterly. Of course you may be thefather. One-third of a chance.     Theodor looked at her sharply, but didn't comment. Anyway, Dotty willbe there, he said. Probably asleep by now. All the ESPs have suddenlyseemed to need more sleep.     As they talked, it had been growing darker, though the luminescence ofthe path kept it from being bothersome. And now the cloud rack partedto the east, showing a single red planet low on the horizon.     Did you know, Theodor said suddenly, that in      Gulliver's Travels     Dean Swift predicted that better telescopes would show Mars to have twomoons? He got the sizes and distances and periods damned accurately,too. One of the few really startling coincidences of reality andliterature.     Stop being eerie, Celeste said sharply. But then she went on, Thosenames Phobos and Deimos—they're Greek, aren't they? What do they mean?     Theodor lost a step. Fear and Terror, he said unwillingly. Nowdon't go taking that for an omen. Most of the mythological names ofmajor and minor ancient gods had been taken—the bodies in the SolarSystem are named that way, of course—and these were about all thatwere available.     It was true, but it didn't comfort him much.  <doc-sep>Macklin's traditional ranch house was small but attractive inaqua-tinted aluminum.     Under Mitchell's thumb the bell chimbed      dum-de-de-dum-dum-dum     .     As they waited Mitchell glanced at Ferris. He seemed completelyundisturbed, perhaps slightly curious.     The door unlatched and swung back.     Mrs. Macklin, Mitchell said quickly, I'm sure we can help if thereis anything wrong with your husband. This is Dr. Ferris. I am Dr.Mitchell.     You had certainly      better     help him, gentlemen. She stood out of thedoorway for them to pass.     Mrs. Macklin was an attractive brunette in her late thirties. She worean expensive yellow dress. And she had a sharp-cornered jawline.     The Army officer came out into the hall to meet them.     You are the gentlemen who gave Dr. Macklin the unauthorizedinjection, he said.     It wasn't a question.     I don't like that 'unauthorized', Ferris snapped.     The colonel—Mitchell spotted the eagles on his green tunic—lifteda heavy eyebrow. No? Are you medical doctors? Are you authorized totreat illnesses?     We weren't treating an illness, Mitchell said. We were discovering amethod of treatment. What concern is it of yours?     The colonel smiled thinly. Dr. Macklin is my concern. And everythingthat happens to him. The Army doesn't like what you have done to him.     Mitchell wondered desperately just what they had done to the man.     Can we see him? Mitchell asked.     Why not? You can't do much worse than murder him now. That might bejust as well. We have laws to cover that.     The colonel led them into the comfortable, over-feminine living room.Macklin sat in an easy chair draped in embroidery, smoking. Mitchellsuddenly realized Macklin used a pipe as a form of masculine protest tohis home surroundings.     On the coffee table in front of Macklin were some odd-shaped buildingblocks such as were used in nursery schools. A second uniformedman—another colonel but with the snake-entwined staff of the medicalcorps in his insignia—was kneeling at the table on the marble-effectcarpet.     The Army physician stood up and brushed his knees, undusted from thescrupulously clean rug.     What's wrong with him, Sidney? the other officer asked the doctor.     Not a thing, Sidney said. He's the healthiest, happiest, mostwell-adjusted man I've ever examined, Carson.     But— Colonel Carson protested.     Oh, he's changed all right, the Army doctor answered. He's not thesame man as he used to be.     How is he different? Mitchell demanded.     The medic examined Mitchell and Ferris critically before answering. Heused to be a mathematical genius.     And now? Mitchell said impatiently.     Now he is a moron, the medic said.      III     Mitchell tried to stop Colonel Sidney as he went past, but the doctormumbled he had a report to make.     Mitchell and Ferris stared at Colonel Carson and Macklin and at eachother.     What did he mean, Macklin is an idiot? Mitchell asked.     Not an idiot, Colonel Carson corrected primly. Dr. Macklin is amoron. He's legally responsible, but he's extremely stupid.     I'm not so dumb, Macklin said defensively.     I beg your pardon, sir, Carson said. I didn't intend any offense.But according to all the standard intelligence tests we have given you,your clinical intelligence quotient is that of a moron.     That's just on book learning, Macklin said. There's a lot you learnin life that you don't get out of books, son.     I'm confident that's true, sir, Colonel Carson said. He turned to thetwo biologists. Perhaps we had better speak outside.     But— Mitchell said, impatient to examine Macklin for himself. Verywell. Let's step into the hall.     Ferris followed them docilely.     What have you done to him? the colonel asked straightforwardly.     We merely cured him of his headaches, Mitchell said.     How?     Mitchell did his best to explain the F-M Virus.     You mean, the Army officer said levelly you have infected him withsome kind of a disease to rot his brain?     No, no! Could I talk to the other man, the doctor? Maybe I can makehim understand.     All I want to know is why Elliot Macklin has been made as simple as ifhe had been kicked in the head by a mule, Colonel Carson said.     I think I can explain, Ferris interrupted.     You can? Mitchell said.     Ferris nodded. We made a slight miscalculation. It appears as if thevirus colony overcontrols the supply of posterior pituitary extract inthe cerebrum. It isn't more than necessary to stop headaches. But thatnecessary amount of control to stop pain is too much to allow the braincells to function properly.     Why won't they function? Carson roared.     They don't get enough food—blood, oxygen, hemoglobin, Ferrisexplained. The cerebral vessels don't contract enough to pump theblood through the brain as fast and as hard as is needed. The braincells remain sluggish, dormant. Perhaps decaying.     The colonel yelled.     Mitchell groaned. He was abruptly sure Ferris was correct.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What does the principle of mental privacy entail in DR. KOMETEVSKY'S DAY?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the story about and how does Rosalind's character develop in it? [SEP] <s>Frieda collapsed to a chair, trembling between laughter and hystericalweeping. Theodor looked as blank as Dotty had while waiting for wordsto speak. Edmund sprang to the picture window, Celeste toward the TVset.     Climbing shakily out of the chair, Frieda stumbled to the picturewindow and peered out beside Edmund. She saw lights bobbing along thepaths with a wild excitement.     On the TV screen, Celeste watched two brightly lit ships spinning inthe sky—whether human spaceships or Phobos and Deimos come to helpEarth rejoice, she couldn't tell.     Dotty spoke again, the joy in her strange voice forcing them to turn.And you, dear children, creatures of our camouflage, we welcomeyou—whatever your future career on these planets or like ones—intothe society of enlightened worlds! You need not feel small and aloneand helpless ever again, for we shall always be with you!     The outer door opened. Ivan and Rosalind reeled in, drunkenly smiling,arm in arm.     Like rockets, Rosalind blurted happily. We came through thedurasphere and solid rock ... shot up right to the surface.     They didn't have to take us along, Ivan added with a bleary grin.But you know that already, don't you? They're too good to let you livein fear, so they must have told you by now.     Yes, we know, said Theodor. They must be almost godlike in theirgoodness. I feel ... calm.     Edmund nodded soberly. Calmer than I ever felt before. It's knowing, Isuppose, that—well, we're not alone.     Dotty blinked and looked around and smiled at them all with a whollylittle-girl smile.     Oh, Mummy, she said, and it was impossible to tell whether she spoketo Frieda or Rosalind or Celeste, I've just had the funniest dream.     No, darling, said Rosalind gently, it's we who had the dream. We'vejust awakened.  <doc-sep>Rosalind and Ivan stared dumbly at each other across the egg-shapedsilver room, without apparent entrance or exit, in which they weresprawled. But their thoughts were no longer of thirty-odd milejourneys down through solid earth, or of how cool it was after theheat of the passage, or of how grotesque it was to be trapped here,the fragment of a marriage. They were both listening to the voice thatspoke inside their minds.     In a few minutes your bodies will be separated into layers one atomthick, capable of being shelved or stored in such a way as to endurealmost infinite accelerations. Single cells will cover acres of space.But do not be alarmed. The process will be painless and each particlewill be catalogued for future assembly. Your consciousness will endurethroughout the process.     Rosalind looked at her gold-shod toes. She was wondering,      will they gofirst, or my head? Or will I be peeled like an apple?       She looked at Ivan and knew he was thinking the same thing.  <doc-sep>Theodor rubbed his eyes and pushed his chair back from the table. Weneed a break.     Frieda agreed wearily. We've gone through everything.     Good idea, Edmund said briskly. I think we've hit on several crucialpoints along the way and half disentangled them from the great mass ofinconsequential material. I'll finish up that part of the job right nowand present my case when we're all a bit fresher. Say half an hour?     Theodor nodded heavily, pushing up from his chair and hitching hiscloak over a shoulder.     I'm going out for a drink, he informed them.     After several hesitant seconds, Rosalind quietly followed him. Friedastretched out on a couch and closed her eyes. Edmund scanned microfilmstirelessly, every now and then setting one aside.     Celeste watched him for a minute, then sprang up and started toward theroom where Dotty was asleep. But midway she stopped.       Not my child     , she thought bitterly.      Frieda's her mother, Rosalindher nurse. I'm nothing at all. Just one of the husband's girl friends.A lady of uneasy virtue in a dissolving world.       But then she straightened her shoulders and went on.  <doc-sep>Edmund rapped for attention. Celeste, Frieda, and Theodor glancedaround at him. He looked more frightfully strained, they realized, thaneven they felt. His expression was a study in suppressed excitement,but there were also signs of a knowledge that was almost toooverpowering for a human being to bear.     His voice was clipped, rapid. I think it's about time we stoppedworrying about our own affairs and thought of those of the SolarSystem, partly because I think they have a direct bearing on thedisappearances of Ivan end Rosalind. As I told you, I've been sortingout the crucial items from the material we've been presenting. Thereare roughly four of those items, as I see it. It's rather like amystery story. I wonder if, hearing those four clues, you will come tothe same conclusion I have.     The others nodded.     First, there are the latest reports from Deep Shaft, which, asyou know, has been sunk to investigate deep-Earth conditions. Atapproximately twenty-nine miles below the surface, the delvers haveencountered a metallic obstruction which they have tentatively namedthe durasphere. It resists their hardest drills, their strongestcorrosives. They have extended a side-tunnel at that level for aquarter of a mile. Delicate measurements, made possible by themirror-smooth metal surface, show that the durasphere has a slightcurvature that is almost exactly equal to the curvature of the Earthitself. The suggestion is that deep borings made anywhere in the worldwould encounter the durasphere at the same depth.     Second, the movements of the moons of Mars and Jupiter, andparticularly the debris left behind by the moons of Mars. GrantingPhobos and Deimos had duraspheres proportional in size to that ofEarth, then the debris would roughly equal in amount the material inthose two duraspheres' rocky envelopes. The suggestion is that thetwo duraspheres suddenly burst from their envelopes with such titanicvelocity as to leave those disrupted envelopes behind.     It was deadly quiet in the committee room.     Thirdly, the disappearances of Ivan and Rosalind, and especiallythe baffling hint—from Ivan's message in one case and Rosalind'sdownward-pointing glove in the other—that they were both somehow drawninto the depths of the Earth.     Finally, the dreams of the ESPs, which agree overwhelmingly in thefollowing points: A group of beings separate themselves from a godlikeand telepathic race because they insist on maintaining a degree ofmental privacy. They flee in great boats or ships of some sort. Theyare pursued on such a scale that there is no hiding place for themanywhere in the universe. In some manner they successfully camouflagetheir ships. Eons pass and their still-fanatical pursuers do notpenetrate their secret. Then, suddenly, they are detected.     Edmund waited. Do you see what I'm driving at? he asked hoarsely.  <doc-sep>While the TV voice intoned the poem, growing richer as emotion caughtit up, Celeste looked around her at the others. Frieda, with hertouch of feminine helplessness showing more than ever through herbusiness-like poise. Theodor leaning forward from his scarlet cloakthrown back, smiling the half-smile with which he seemed to face eventhe unknown. Black Edmund, masking a deep uncertainty with a strongshow of decisiveness.     In short, her family. She knew their every quirk and foible. And yetnow they seemed to her a million miles away, figures seen through thewrong end of a telescope.     Were they really a family? Strong sources of mutual strength andsecurity to each other? Or had they merely been playing family,experimenting with their notions of complex marriage like a bunch ofsilly adolescents? Butterflies taking advantage of good weather towing together in a glamorous, artificial dance—until outraged Naturedecided to wipe them out?     As the poem was ending, Celeste saw the door open and Rosalind comeslowly in. The Golden Woman's face was white as the paths she had beentreading.     Just then the TV voice quickened with shock. News! Lunar ObservatoryOne reports that, although Jupiter is just about to pass behind theSun, a good coronagraph of the planet has been obtained. Checked andrechecked, it admits of only one interpretation, which Lunar Onefeels duty-bound to release.      Jupiter's fourteen moons are no longervisible!          The chorus of remarks with which the Wolvers would otherwise havereceived this was checked by one thing: the fact that Rosalind seemednot to hear it. Whatever was on her mind prevented even that incrediblestatement from penetrating.     She walked shakily to the table and put down a briefcase, one end ofwhich was smudged with dirt.     Without looking at them, she said, Ivan left the Deep Space Bartwenty minutes ago, said he was coming straight here. On my way backI searched the path. Midway I found this half-buried in the dirt. Ihad to tug to get it out—almost as if it had been cemented into theground. Do you feel how the dirt seems to be      in     the leather, as ifit had lain for years in the grave?     By now the others were fingering the small case of microfilms they hadseen so many times in Ivan's competent hands. What Rosalind said wastrue. It had a gritty, unwholesome feel to it. Also, it felt strangelyheavy.     And see what's written on it, she added.     They turned it over. Scrawled with white pencil in big, hasty, franticletters were two words:     Going down!  <doc-sep>He pivoted to inspect the room. Even before his eyes could take inthe details, he had the impression that there was something wrongabout it. To begin with, the style was unfamiliar. There were nostraight lines or sharp corners anywhere. The walls were paneled infeatureless blue plastic and the doors were smooth surfaces of metal,half ellipses, without knobs. The flowing lines of the chair and table,built apparently from an aluminum alloy, somehow gave the impressionof arrested motion. Even after allowances were made for the outlandishdesign, something about the room still was not right.     His eyes returned to the doors, and he moved over to study the nearerone. As he had noticed, there was no knob, but at the right of thisone, at about waist level, a push-button projected out of the wall. Hepressed it; the door slid aside and disappeared. Maitland glanced in atthe disclosed bathroom, then went over to look at the other door.     There was no button beside this one, nor any other visible means ofcausing it to open.     Baffled, he turned again and looked at the large open window—andrealized what it was that had made the room seem so queer.     It did not look like a jail cell. There were no bars....     Striding across the room, he lunged forward to peer out and violentlybanged his forehead. He staggered back, grimacing with pain, thenreached forward cautious fingers and discovered a hard sheet of stuffso transparent that he had not even suspected its presence. Not glass!Glass was never this clear or strong. A plastic, no doubt, but one hehadn't heard of. Security sometimes had disadvantages.     He looked out at the peaceful vista of river and prairie. The characterof the sunlight seemed to indicate that it was afternoon. He becameaware that he was hungry.     Where the devil could this place be? And—muscles tightened about hisempty stomach—what was in store for him here?     He stood trembling, acutely conscious that he was afraid and helpless,until a flicker of motion at the bottom of the hill near the river drewhis attention. Pressing his nose against the window, he strained hiseyes to see what it was.     A man and a woman were coming toward him up the hill. Evidently theyhad been swimming, for each had a towel; the man's was hung around hisneck, and the woman was still drying her bobbed black hair.     Maitland speculated on the possibility that this might be Sweden; hedidn't know of any other country where public bathing at this timeof year was customary. However, that prairie certainly didn't lookScandinavian....     As they came closer, he saw that both of them had dark uniform suntansand showed striking muscular development, like persons who had trainedfor years with weights. They vanished below his field of view,presumably into the building.     He sat down on the edge of the cot and glared helplessly at the floor.  <doc-sep>As Celeste and Theodor entered the committee room, Rosalind Wolver—aglitter of platinum against darkness—came in through the oppositedoor and softly shut it behind her. Frieda, a fair woman in blue robes,got up from the round table.     Celeste turned away with outward casualness as Theodor kissed his twoother wives. She was pleased to note that Edmund seemed impatient too.A figure in close-fitting black, unrelieved except for two red arrowsat the collar, he struck her as embodying very properly the serious,fateful temper of the moment.     He took two briefcases from his vest pocket and tossed them down on thetable beside one of the microfilm projectors.     I suggest we get started without waiting for Ivan, he said.     Frieda frowned anxiously. It's ten minutes since he phoned from theDeep Space Bar to say he was starting right away. And that's hardly atwo minutes walk.     Rosalind instantly started toward the outside door.     I'll check, she explained. Oh, Frieda, I've set the mike so you'llhear if Dotty calls.     Edmund threw up his hands. Very well, then, he said and walked over,switched on the picture and stared out moodily.     Theodor and Frieda got out their briefcases, switched on projectors,and began silently checking through their material.     Celeste fiddled with the TV and got a newscast. But she found her eyesdidn't want to absorb the blocks of print that rather swiftly succeededeach other, so, after a few moments, she shrugged impatiently andswitched to audio.     At the noise, the others looked around at her with surprise and someirritation, but in a few moments they were also listening.     The two rocket ships sent out from Mars Base to explore the orbitalpositions of Phobos and Deimos—that is, the volume of space they'd beoccupying if their positions had remained normal—report finding massesof dust and larger debris. The two masses of fine debris are movingin the same orbits and at the same velocities as the two vanishedmoons, and occupy roughly the same volumes of space, though the massof material is hardly a hundredth that of the moons. Physicists haveventured no statements as to whether this constitutes a confirmation ofthe Disintegration Hypothesis.     However, we're mighty pleased at this news here. There's a markedlessening of tension. The finding of the debris—solid, tangiblestuff—seems to lift the whole affair out of the supernatural miasma inwhich some of us have been tempted to plunge it. One-hundredth of themoons has been found.     The rest will also be!     Edmund had turned his back on the window. Frieda and Theodor hadswitched off their projectors.     Meanwhile, Earthlings are going about their business with a minimumof commotion, meeting with considerable calm the strange threat tothe fabric of their Solar System. Many, of course, are assembled inchurches and humanist temples. Kometevskyites have staged helicopterprocessions at Washington, Peking, Pretoria, and Christiana, demandingthat instant preparations be made for—and I quote—'Earth's comingleap through space.' They have also formally challenged all astronomersto produce an explanation other than the one contained in that strangebook so recently conjured from oblivion,      The Dance of the Planets     .     That about winds up the story for the present. There are no newreports from Interplanetary Radar, Astronomy, or the other rocket shipssearching in the extended Mars volume. Nor have any statements beenissued by the various groups working on the problem in Astrophysics,Cosmic Ecology, the Congress for the Discovery of New Purposes, and soforth. Meanwhile, however, we can take courage from the words of a poemwritten even before Dr. Kometevsky's book:   This Earth is not the steadfast place We landsmen build upon; From deep to deep she varies pace, And while she comes is gone. Beneath my feet I feel Her smooth bulk heave and dip; With velvet plunge and soft upreel She swings and steadies to her keel Like a gallant, gallant ship. <doc-sep>Being a beggar, Skkiru discovered, did give him certain small,momentary advantages over those who had been alloted higher ranks.For one thing, it was quite in character for him to tread curiouslyupon the strangers' heels all the way to the temple—a ramshackleaffair, but then it had been run up in only three days—where theofficial reception was to be held. The principal difficulty was that,because of his equipment, he had a little trouble keeping himself fromovershooting the strangers. And though Bbulas might frown menacingly athim—and not only for his forwardness—that was in character on bothsides, too.     Nonetheless, Skkiru could not reconcile himself to his beggarhood, nomatter how much he tried to comfort himself by thinking at least hewasn't a pariah like the unfortunate metal-workers who had to standsegregated from the rest by a chain of their own devising—a poeticthought, that was, but well in keeping with his beggarhood. Beggarswere often poets, he believed, and poets almost always beggars. Sincemetal-working was the chief industry of Snaddra, this had provided theplanet automatically with a large lowest caste. Bbulas had taken theeasy way out.     Skkiru swallowed the last of the chocolate and regarded the highpriest with a simple-minded mendicant's grin. However, there werevolcanic passions within him that surged up from his toes when, as thewind and rain whipped through his scanty coverings, he remembered thesnug underskirts Bbulas was wearing beneath his warm gown. They weremetal, but they were solid. All the garments visible or potentiallyvisible were of woven metal, because, although there was cloth on theplanet, it was not politic for the Earthmen to discover how heavily theSnaddrath depended upon imports.     As the Earthmen reached the temple, Larhgan now appeared to join Bbulasat the head of the long flight of stairs that led to it. AlthoughSkkiru had seen her in her priestly apparel before, it had not madethe emotional impression upon him then that it did now, when, standingthere, clad in beauty, dignity and warm clothes, she bade the newcomerswelcome in several thousand words not too well chosen for her byBbulas—who fancied himself a speech-writer as well as a speech-maker,for there was no end to the man's conceit.     The difference between her magnificent garments and his own miserablerags had their full impact upon Skkiru at this moment. He saw the gulfthat had been dug between them and, for the first time in his shortlife, he felt the tormenting pangs of caste distinction. She looked solovely and so remote.     ... and so you are most welcome to Snaddra, men of Earth, she wassaying in her melodious voice. Our resources may be small but ourhearts are large, and what little we have, we offer with humility andwith love. We hope that you will enjoy as long and as happy a stay hereas you did on Nemeth....     Cyril looked at Raoul, who, however, seemed too absorbed incontemplating Larhgan's apparently universal charms to pay muchattention to the expression on his companion's face.     ... and that you will carry our affection back to all the peoples ofthe Galaxy.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the story about and how does Rosalind's character develop in it?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the importance of Dotty's dream in the story of Dr. Kometevsky's Day? [SEP] <s>   DR. KOMETEVSKY'S DAY     By FRITZ LEIBER     Illustrated by DAVID STONE     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction February 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]         Before science, there was superstition. After       science, there will be ... what? The biggest,       most staggering     , most final      fact of them all!        But it's all predicted here! It even names this century for the nextreshuffling of the planets.     Celeste Wolver looked up unwillingly at the book her friend MadgeCarnap held aloft like a torch. She made out the ill-stamped title,      The Dance of the Planets     . There was no mistaking the time ofits origin; only paper from the Twentieth Century aged to thatparticularly nasty shade of brown. Indeed, the book seemed to Celestea brown old witch resurrected from the Last Age of Madness to confounda world growing sane, and she couldn't help shrinking back a trifletoward her husband Theodor.     He tried to come to her rescue. Only predicted in the vaguest way. AsI understand it, Kometevsky claimed, on the basis of a lot of evidencedrawn from folklore, that the planets and their moons trade positionsevery so often.     As if they were playing Going to Jerusalem, or musical chairs,Celeste chimed in, but she couldn't make it sound funny.     Jupiter was supposed to have started as the outermost planet, and isto end up in the orbit of Mercury, Theodor continued. Well, nothingat all like that has happened.     But it's begun, Madge said with conviction. Phobos and Deimos havedisappeared. You can't argue away that stubborn little fact.     That was the trouble; you couldn't. Mars' two tiny moons had simplyvanished during a period when, as was generally the case, the eyesof astronomy weren't on them. Just some hundred-odd cubic miles ofrock—the merest cosmic flyspecks—yet they had carried away with themthe security of a whole world.  <doc-sep>Looking at the lovely garden landscape around her, Celeste Wolver feltthat in a moment the shrubby hills would begin to roll like waves, thecharmingly aimless paths twist like snakes and sink in the green sea,the sparsely placed skyscrapers dissolve into the misty clouds theypierced.       People must have felt like this     , she thought,      when Aristarches firsthinted and Copernicus told them that the solid Earth under their feetwas falling dizzily through space. Only it's worse for us, because theycouldn't see that anything had changed. We can.       You need something to cling to, she heard Madge say. Dr. Kometevskywas the only person who ever had an inkling that anything like thismight happen. I was never a Kometevskyite before. Hadn't even heard ofthe man.     She said it almost apologetically. In fact, standing there so frank andanxious-eyed, Madge looked anything but a fanatic, which made it muchworse.     Of course, there are several more convincing alternateexplanations.... Theodor began hesitantly, knowing very well thatthere weren't. If Phobos and Deimos had suddenly disintegrated,surely Mars Base would have noticed something. Of course there was theDisordered Space Hypothesis, even if it was little more than the chancephrase of a prominent physicist pounded upon by an eager journalist.And in any case, what sense of security were you left with if youadmitted that moons and planets might explode, or drop through unseenholes in space? So he ended up by taking a different tack: Besides, ifPhobos and Deimos simply shot off somewhere, surely they'd have beenpicked up by now by 'scope or radar.     Two balls of rock just a few miles in diameter? Madge questioned.Aren't they smaller than many of the asteroids? I'm no astronomer, butI think' I'm right.     And of course she was.     She swung the book under her arm. Whew, it's heavy, she observed,adding in slightly scandalized tones, Never been microfilmed. Shesmiled nervously and looked them up and down. Going to a party? sheasked.     Theodor's scarlet cloak and Celeste's green culottes and silver jacketjustified the question, but they shook their heads.     Just the normally flamboyant garb of the family, Celeste said,while Theodor explained, As it happens, we're bound on businessconnected with the disappearance. We Wolvers practically constitutea sub-committee of the Congress for the Discovery of New Purposes.And since a lot of varied material comes to our attention, we'regoing to see if any of it correlates with this bit of astronomicalsleight-of-hand.     Madge nodded. Give you something to do, at any rate. Well, I must beoff. The Buddhist temple has lent us their place for a meeting. Shegave them a woeful grin. See you when the Earth jumps.     Theodor said to Celeste, Come on, dear. We'll be late.     But Celeste didn't want to move too fast. You know, Teddy, she saiduncomfortably, all this reminds me of those old myths where too muchgood fortune is a sure sign of coming disaster. It was just too muchluck, our great-grandparents missing World III and getting the WorldGovernment started a thousand years ahead of schedule. Luck like thatcouldn't last, evidently. Maybe we've gone too fast with a lot ofthings, like space-flight and the Deep Shaft and— she hesitated abit—complex marriages. I'm a woman. I want complete security. Wheream I to find it?     In me, Theodor said promptly.     In you? Celeste questioned, walking slowly. But you're justone-third of my husband. Perhaps I should look for it in Edmund orIvan.     You angry with me about something?     Of course not. But a woman wants her source of security whole. In acrisis like this, it's disturbing to have it divided.     Well, we are a whole and, I believe, indivisible family, Theodortold her warmly. You're not suggesting, are you, that we're going tobe punished for our polygamous sins by a cosmic catastrophe? Fire fromHeaven and all that?     Don't be silly. I just wanted to give you a picture of my feeling.Celeste smiled. I guess none of us realized how much we've come todepend on the idea of unchanging scientific law. Knocks the props fromunder you.     Theodor nodded emphatically. All the more reason to get a line onwhat's happening as quickly as possible. You know, it's fantasticallyfar-fetched, but I think the experience of persons with Extra-SensoryPerception may give us a clue. During the past three or four daysthere's been a remarkable similarity in the dreams of ESPs all over theplanet. I'm going to present the evidence at the meeting.     Celeste looked up at him. So that's why Rosalind's bringing Frieda'sdaughter?     Dotty is your daughter, too, and Rosalind's, Theodor reminded her.     No, just Frieda's, Celeste said bitterly. Of course you may be thefather. One-third of a chance.     Theodor looked at her sharply, but didn't comment. Anyway, Dotty willbe there, he said. Probably asleep by now. All the ESPs have suddenlyseemed to need more sleep.     As they talked, it had been growing darker, though the luminescence ofthe path kept it from being bothersome. And now the cloud rack partedto the east, showing a single red planet low on the horizon.     Did you know, Theodor said suddenly, that in      Gulliver's Travels     Dean Swift predicted that better telescopes would show Mars to have twomoons? He got the sizes and distances and periods damned accurately,too. One of the few really startling coincidences of reality andliterature.     Stop being eerie, Celeste said sharply. But then she went on, Thosenames Phobos and Deimos—they're Greek, aren't they? What do they mean?     Theodor lost a step. Fear and Terror, he said unwillingly. Nowdon't go taking that for an omen. Most of the mythological names ofmajor and minor ancient gods had been taken—the bodies in the SolarSystem are named that way, of course—and these were about all thatwere available.     It was true, but it didn't comfort him much.  <doc-sep>   I am a God     , Dotty was dreaming,      and I want to be by myself andthink. I and my god-friends like to keep some of our thoughts secret,but the other gods have forbidden us to.       A little smile flickered across the lips of the sleeping girl, andthe woman in gold tights and gold-spangled jacket leaned forwardthoughtfully. In her dignity and simplicity and straight-spined grace,she was rather like a circus mother watching her sick child before shewent out for the trapeze act.       I and my god-friends sail off in our great round silver boats     , Dottywent on dreaming.      The other gods are angry and scared. They arefrightened of the thoughts we may think in secret. They follow us tohunt us down. There are many more of them than of us.    <doc-sep>As Celeste and Theodor entered the committee room, Rosalind Wolver—aglitter of platinum against darkness—came in through the oppositedoor and softly shut it behind her. Frieda, a fair woman in blue robes,got up from the round table.     Celeste turned away with outward casualness as Theodor kissed his twoother wives. She was pleased to note that Edmund seemed impatient too.A figure in close-fitting black, unrelieved except for two red arrowsat the collar, he struck her as embodying very properly the serious,fateful temper of the moment.     He took two briefcases from his vest pocket and tossed them down on thetable beside one of the microfilm projectors.     I suggest we get started without waiting for Ivan, he said.     Frieda frowned anxiously. It's ten minutes since he phoned from theDeep Space Bar to say he was starting right away. And that's hardly atwo minutes walk.     Rosalind instantly started toward the outside door.     I'll check, she explained. Oh, Frieda, I've set the mike so you'llhear if Dotty calls.     Edmund threw up his hands. Very well, then, he said and walked over,switched on the picture and stared out moodily.     Theodor and Frieda got out their briefcases, switched on projectors,and began silently checking through their material.     Celeste fiddled with the TV and got a newscast. But she found her eyesdidn't want to absorb the blocks of print that rather swiftly succeededeach other, so, after a few moments, she shrugged impatiently andswitched to audio.     At the noise, the others looked around at her with surprise and someirritation, but in a few moments they were also listening.     The two rocket ships sent out from Mars Base to explore the orbitalpositions of Phobos and Deimos—that is, the volume of space they'd beoccupying if their positions had remained normal—report finding massesof dust and larger debris. The two masses of fine debris are movingin the same orbits and at the same velocities as the two vanishedmoons, and occupy roughly the same volumes of space, though the massof material is hardly a hundredth that of the moons. Physicists haveventured no statements as to whether this constitutes a confirmation ofthe Disintegration Hypothesis.     However, we're mighty pleased at this news here. There's a markedlessening of tension. The finding of the debris—solid, tangiblestuff—seems to lift the whole affair out of the supernatural miasma inwhich some of us have been tempted to plunge it. One-hundredth of themoons has been found.     The rest will also be!     Edmund had turned his back on the window. Frieda and Theodor hadswitched off their projectors.     Meanwhile, Earthlings are going about their business with a minimumof commotion, meeting with considerable calm the strange threat tothe fabric of their Solar System. Many, of course, are assembled inchurches and humanist temples. Kometevskyites have staged helicopterprocessions at Washington, Peking, Pretoria, and Christiana, demandingthat instant preparations be made for—and I quote—'Earth's comingleap through space.' They have also formally challenged all astronomersto produce an explanation other than the one contained in that strangebook so recently conjured from oblivion,      The Dance of the Planets     .     That about winds up the story for the present. There are no newreports from Interplanetary Radar, Astronomy, or the other rocket shipssearching in the extended Mars volume. Nor have any statements beenissued by the various groups working on the problem in Astrophysics,Cosmic Ecology, the Congress for the Discovery of New Purposes, and soforth. Meanwhile, however, we can take courage from the words of a poemwritten even before Dr. Kometevsky's book:   This Earth is not the steadfast place We landsmen build upon; From deep to deep she varies pace, And while she comes is gone. Beneath my feet I feel Her smooth bulk heave and dip; With velvet plunge and soft upreel She swings and steadies to her keel Like a gallant, gallant ship. <doc-sep>Dotty suddenly began to turn and toss, and a look of terror came overher sleeping face. Celeste leaned forward apprehensively.     The child's lips worked and Celeste made out the sleepy-fuzzy words:They've found out where we're hiding. They're coming to get us. No!Please, no!     Celeste's reactions were mixed. She felt worried about Dotty and atthe same time almost in terror of her, as if the little girl were anagent of supernatural forces. She told herself that this fear was anexpression of her own hostility, yet she didn't really believe it. Shetouched the child's hand.     Dotty's eyes opened without making Celeste feel she had quite comeawake. After a bit she looked at Celeste and her little lips parted ina smile.     Hello, she said sleepily. I've been having such funny dreams. Then,after a pause, frowning, I really am a god, you know. It feels veryqueer.     Yes, dear? Celeste prompted uneasily. Shall I call Frieda?     The smile left Dotty's lips. Why do you act so nervous around me? sheasked. Don't you love me, Mummy?     Celeste started at the word. Her throat closed. Then, very slowly, herface broke into a radiant smile. Of course I do, darling. I love youvery much.     Dotty nodded happily, her eyes already closed again.     There was a sudden flurry of excited voices beyond the door. Celesteheard her name called. She stood up.     I'm going to have to go out and talk with the others, she said. Ifyou want me, dear, just call.     Yes, Mummy.  <doc-sep>Frieda collapsed to a chair, trembling between laughter and hystericalweeping. Theodor looked as blank as Dotty had while waiting for wordsto speak. Edmund sprang to the picture window, Celeste toward the TVset.     Climbing shakily out of the chair, Frieda stumbled to the picturewindow and peered out beside Edmund. She saw lights bobbing along thepaths with a wild excitement.     On the TV screen, Celeste watched two brightly lit ships spinning inthe sky—whether human spaceships or Phobos and Deimos come to helpEarth rejoice, she couldn't tell.     Dotty spoke again, the joy in her strange voice forcing them to turn.And you, dear children, creatures of our camouflage, we welcomeyou—whatever your future career on these planets or like ones—intothe society of enlightened worlds! You need not feel small and aloneand helpless ever again, for we shall always be with you!     The outer door opened. Ivan and Rosalind reeled in, drunkenly smiling,arm in arm.     Like rockets, Rosalind blurted happily. We came through thedurasphere and solid rock ... shot up right to the surface.     They didn't have to take us along, Ivan added with a bleary grin.But you know that already, don't you? They're too good to let you livein fear, so they must have told you by now.     Yes, we know, said Theodor. They must be almost godlike in theirgoodness. I feel ... calm.     Edmund nodded soberly. Calmer than I ever felt before. It's knowing, Isuppose, that—well, we're not alone.     Dotty blinked and looked around and smiled at them all with a whollylittle-girl smile.     Oh, Mummy, she said, and it was impossible to tell whether she spoketo Frieda or Rosalind or Celeste, I've just had the funniest dream.     No, darling, said Rosalind gently, it's we who had the dream. We'vejust awakened.  <doc-sep>   Our trick has succeeded     , Dotty dreamt.      The other gods have passedour hiding place a dozen times without noticing. They search theUniverse for us many times in vain. They finally decide that we havefound a door going out of the Universe. Yet they fear us all the more.They think of us as devils who will some day return through the door todestroy them. So they watch everywhere. We lie quietly smiling in ourcamouflaged boats, yet hardly daring to move or think, for fear thatthe faintest echoes of our doings will give them a clue. Hundreds ofmillions of years pass by. They seem to us no more than drugged hoursin a prison.    <doc-sep>   BREAKDOWN     By HERBERT D. KASTLE     Illustrated by COWLES     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine June 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       He didn't know exactly when it had started, but it had been going onfor weeks. Edna begged him to see the doctor living in that new housetwo miles past Dugan's farm, but he refused. He point-blank refused toadmit he was sick      that     way—in the head!     Of course, a man could grow forgetful. He had to admit there weremoments when he had all sorts of mixed-up memories and thoughts in hismind. And sometimes—like right now, lying in bed beside Edna, watchingthe first hint of light touch the windows—he began sweating with fear.A horrible, gut-wrenching fear, all the more horrible because it wasbased on nothing.     The chicken-run came alive; the barn followed minutes later. There werechores to do, the same chores he'd done all his forty-one years. Exceptthat now, with the new regulations about wheat and corn, he had onlya vegetable patch to farm. Sure, he got paid for letting the fieldsremain empty. But it just didn't seem right, all that land going towaste....       Davie. Blond hair and a round, tanned face and strong arms growingstronger each day from helping out after school.       He turned and shook Edna. What happened to Davie?     She cleared her throat, mumbled, Huh? What happened to who?     I said, what.... But then it slipped away. Davie? No, that was partof a dream he'd had last week. He and Edna had no children.     He felt the fear again, and got up fast to escape it. Edna opened hereyes as soon as his weight left the bed. Like hotcakes for breakfast?     Eggs, he said. Bacon. And then, seeing her face change, heremembered. Course, he muttered. Can't have bacon. Rationed.     She was fully awake now. If you'd only go see Dr. Hamming, Harry. Justfor a checkup. Or let me call him so he could—     You stop that! You stop that right now, and for good! I don't want tohear no more about doctors. I get laid up, I'll call one. And it won'tbe that Hamming who I ain't never seen in my life! It'll be Timkins,who took care'n us and brought our son into the world and....     She began to cry, and he realized he'd said something crazy again. Theyhad no son, never had a son. And Timkins—he'd died and they'd gone tohis funeral. Or so Edna said.     He himself just couldn't remember it.     He went to the bed and sat down beside her. Sorry. That was just adream I had. I'm still half asleep this morning. Couldn't fall off lastnight, not till real late. Guess I'm a little nervous, what with allthe new regulations and not working regular. I never meant we had ason. He waited then, hoping she'd say they      had     had a son, and he'ddied or gone away. But of course she didn't.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the importance of Dotty's dream in the story of Dr. Kometevsky's Day?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"How does Celeste's behavior towards her family members evolve throughout the story in DR. KOMETEVSKY'S DAY? [SEP] <s>   DR. KOMETEVSKY'S DAY     By FRITZ LEIBER     Illustrated by DAVID STONE     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction February 1952.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]         Before science, there was superstition. After       science, there will be ... what? The biggest,       most staggering     , most final      fact of them all!        But it's all predicted here! It even names this century for the nextreshuffling of the planets.     Celeste Wolver looked up unwillingly at the book her friend MadgeCarnap held aloft like a torch. She made out the ill-stamped title,      The Dance of the Planets     . There was no mistaking the time ofits origin; only paper from the Twentieth Century aged to thatparticularly nasty shade of brown. Indeed, the book seemed to Celestea brown old witch resurrected from the Last Age of Madness to confounda world growing sane, and she couldn't help shrinking back a trifletoward her husband Theodor.     He tried to come to her rescue. Only predicted in the vaguest way. AsI understand it, Kometevsky claimed, on the basis of a lot of evidencedrawn from folklore, that the planets and their moons trade positionsevery so often.     As if they were playing Going to Jerusalem, or musical chairs,Celeste chimed in, but she couldn't make it sound funny.     Jupiter was supposed to have started as the outermost planet, and isto end up in the orbit of Mercury, Theodor continued. Well, nothingat all like that has happened.     But it's begun, Madge said with conviction. Phobos and Deimos havedisappeared. You can't argue away that stubborn little fact.     That was the trouble; you couldn't. Mars' two tiny moons had simplyvanished during a period when, as was generally the case, the eyesof astronomy weren't on them. Just some hundred-odd cubic miles ofrock—the merest cosmic flyspecks—yet they had carried away with themthe security of a whole world.  <doc-sep>Looking at the lovely garden landscape around her, Celeste Wolver feltthat in a moment the shrubby hills would begin to roll like waves, thecharmingly aimless paths twist like snakes and sink in the green sea,the sparsely placed skyscrapers dissolve into the misty clouds theypierced.       People must have felt like this     , she thought,      when Aristarches firsthinted and Copernicus told them that the solid Earth under their feetwas falling dizzily through space. Only it's worse for us, because theycouldn't see that anything had changed. We can.       You need something to cling to, she heard Madge say. Dr. Kometevskywas the only person who ever had an inkling that anything like thismight happen. I was never a Kometevskyite before. Hadn't even heard ofthe man.     She said it almost apologetically. In fact, standing there so frank andanxious-eyed, Madge looked anything but a fanatic, which made it muchworse.     Of course, there are several more convincing alternateexplanations.... Theodor began hesitantly, knowing very well thatthere weren't. If Phobos and Deimos had suddenly disintegrated,surely Mars Base would have noticed something. Of course there was theDisordered Space Hypothesis, even if it was little more than the chancephrase of a prominent physicist pounded upon by an eager journalist.And in any case, what sense of security were you left with if youadmitted that moons and planets might explode, or drop through unseenholes in space? So he ended up by taking a different tack: Besides, ifPhobos and Deimos simply shot off somewhere, surely they'd have beenpicked up by now by 'scope or radar.     Two balls of rock just a few miles in diameter? Madge questioned.Aren't they smaller than many of the asteroids? I'm no astronomer, butI think' I'm right.     And of course she was.     She swung the book under her arm. Whew, it's heavy, she observed,adding in slightly scandalized tones, Never been microfilmed. Shesmiled nervously and looked them up and down. Going to a party? sheasked.     Theodor's scarlet cloak and Celeste's green culottes and silver jacketjustified the question, but they shook their heads.     Just the normally flamboyant garb of the family, Celeste said,while Theodor explained, As it happens, we're bound on businessconnected with the disappearance. We Wolvers practically constitutea sub-committee of the Congress for the Discovery of New Purposes.And since a lot of varied material comes to our attention, we'regoing to see if any of it correlates with this bit of astronomicalsleight-of-hand.     Madge nodded. Give you something to do, at any rate. Well, I must beoff. The Buddhist temple has lent us their place for a meeting. Shegave them a woeful grin. See you when the Earth jumps.     Theodor said to Celeste, Come on, dear. We'll be late.     But Celeste didn't want to move too fast. You know, Teddy, she saiduncomfortably, all this reminds me of those old myths where too muchgood fortune is a sure sign of coming disaster. It was just too muchluck, our great-grandparents missing World III and getting the WorldGovernment started a thousand years ahead of schedule. Luck like thatcouldn't last, evidently. Maybe we've gone too fast with a lot ofthings, like space-flight and the Deep Shaft and— she hesitated abit—complex marriages. I'm a woman. I want complete security. Wheream I to find it?     In me, Theodor said promptly.     In you? Celeste questioned, walking slowly. But you're justone-third of my husband. Perhaps I should look for it in Edmund orIvan.     You angry with me about something?     Of course not. But a woman wants her source of security whole. In acrisis like this, it's disturbing to have it divided.     Well, we are a whole and, I believe, indivisible family, Theodortold her warmly. You're not suggesting, are you, that we're going tobe punished for our polygamous sins by a cosmic catastrophe? Fire fromHeaven and all that?     Don't be silly. I just wanted to give you a picture of my feeling.Celeste smiled. I guess none of us realized how much we've come todepend on the idea of unchanging scientific law. Knocks the props fromunder you.     Theodor nodded emphatically. All the more reason to get a line onwhat's happening as quickly as possible. You know, it's fantasticallyfar-fetched, but I think the experience of persons with Extra-SensoryPerception may give us a clue. During the past three or four daysthere's been a remarkable similarity in the dreams of ESPs all over theplanet. I'm going to present the evidence at the meeting.     Celeste looked up at him. So that's why Rosalind's bringing Frieda'sdaughter?     Dotty is your daughter, too, and Rosalind's, Theodor reminded her.     No, just Frieda's, Celeste said bitterly. Of course you may be thefather. One-third of a chance.     Theodor looked at her sharply, but didn't comment. Anyway, Dotty willbe there, he said. Probably asleep by now. All the ESPs have suddenlyseemed to need more sleep.     As they talked, it had been growing darker, though the luminescence ofthe path kept it from being bothersome. And now the cloud rack partedto the east, showing a single red planet low on the horizon.     Did you know, Theodor said suddenly, that in      Gulliver's Travels     Dean Swift predicted that better telescopes would show Mars to have twomoons? He got the sizes and distances and periods damned accurately,too. One of the few really startling coincidences of reality andliterature.     Stop being eerie, Celeste said sharply. But then she went on, Thosenames Phobos and Deimos—they're Greek, aren't they? What do they mean?     Theodor lost a step. Fear and Terror, he said unwillingly. Nowdon't go taking that for an omen. Most of the mythological names ofmajor and minor ancient gods had been taken—the bodies in the SolarSystem are named that way, of course—and these were about all thatwere available.     It was true, but it didn't comfort him much.  <doc-sep>As Celeste and Theodor entered the committee room, Rosalind Wolver—aglitter of platinum against darkness—came in through the oppositedoor and softly shut it behind her. Frieda, a fair woman in blue robes,got up from the round table.     Celeste turned away with outward casualness as Theodor kissed his twoother wives. She was pleased to note that Edmund seemed impatient too.A figure in close-fitting black, unrelieved except for two red arrowsat the collar, he struck her as embodying very properly the serious,fateful temper of the moment.     He took two briefcases from his vest pocket and tossed them down on thetable beside one of the microfilm projectors.     I suggest we get started without waiting for Ivan, he said.     Frieda frowned anxiously. It's ten minutes since he phoned from theDeep Space Bar to say he was starting right away. And that's hardly atwo minutes walk.     Rosalind instantly started toward the outside door.     I'll check, she explained. Oh, Frieda, I've set the mike so you'llhear if Dotty calls.     Edmund threw up his hands. Very well, then, he said and walked over,switched on the picture and stared out moodily.     Theodor and Frieda got out their briefcases, switched on projectors,and began silently checking through their material.     Celeste fiddled with the TV and got a newscast. But she found her eyesdidn't want to absorb the blocks of print that rather swiftly succeededeach other, so, after a few moments, she shrugged impatiently andswitched to audio.     At the noise, the others looked around at her with surprise and someirritation, but in a few moments they were also listening.     The two rocket ships sent out from Mars Base to explore the orbitalpositions of Phobos and Deimos—that is, the volume of space they'd beoccupying if their positions had remained normal—report finding massesof dust and larger debris. The two masses of fine debris are movingin the same orbits and at the same velocities as the two vanishedmoons, and occupy roughly the same volumes of space, though the massof material is hardly a hundredth that of the moons. Physicists haveventured no statements as to whether this constitutes a confirmation ofthe Disintegration Hypothesis.     However, we're mighty pleased at this news here. There's a markedlessening of tension. The finding of the debris—solid, tangiblestuff—seems to lift the whole affair out of the supernatural miasma inwhich some of us have been tempted to plunge it. One-hundredth of themoons has been found.     The rest will also be!     Edmund had turned his back on the window. Frieda and Theodor hadswitched off their projectors.     Meanwhile, Earthlings are going about their business with a minimumof commotion, meeting with considerable calm the strange threat tothe fabric of their Solar System. Many, of course, are assembled inchurches and humanist temples. Kometevskyites have staged helicopterprocessions at Washington, Peking, Pretoria, and Christiana, demandingthat instant preparations be made for—and I quote—'Earth's comingleap through space.' They have also formally challenged all astronomersto produce an explanation other than the one contained in that strangebook so recently conjured from oblivion,      The Dance of the Planets     .     That about winds up the story for the present. There are no newreports from Interplanetary Radar, Astronomy, or the other rocket shipssearching in the extended Mars volume. Nor have any statements beenissued by the various groups working on the problem in Astrophysics,Cosmic Ecology, the Congress for the Discovery of New Purposes, and soforth. Meanwhile, however, we can take courage from the words of a poemwritten even before Dr. Kometevsky's book:   This Earth is not the steadfast place We landsmen build upon; From deep to deep she varies pace, And while she comes is gone. Beneath my feet I feel Her smooth bulk heave and dip; With velvet plunge and soft upreel She swings and steadies to her keel Like a gallant, gallant ship. <doc-sep>And now, smiled Carpenter as the two humans left the building, wemust see you registered for a nice family. Nothing too ostentatious,but, on the other hand, you mustn't count credits and ally yourselfbeneath your station.     Michael gazed pensively at two slender, snakelike Difdans writhingOnly 99 Shopping Days Till Christmas across an aquamarine sky.     They won't be permanent? he asked. The family, I mean?     Certainly not. You merely hire them for whatever length of time youchoose. But why are you so anxious?     The young man blushed. Well, I'm thinking of having a family of my ownsome day. Pretty soon, as a matter of fact.     Carpenter beamed. That's nice; you're being adopted! I do hope it'san Earth family that's chosen you—it's so awkward being adopted byextraterrestrials.     Oh, no! I'm planning to have my own. That is, I've got a—a girl,you see, and I thought after I had secured employment of some kind inPortyork, I'd send for her and we'd get married and....           Married!      Carpenter was now completely shocked. You      mustn't     usethat word! Don't you know marriage was outlawed years ago? Exclusivepossession of a member of the opposite sex is slavery on Talitha.Furthermore, supposing somebody else saw your—er—friend and wantedher also; you wouldn't wish him to endure the frustration of not havingher, would you?     Michael squared his jaw. You bet I would.     Carpenter drew himself away slightly, as if to avoid contamination.This is un-Universal. Young man, if I didn't have a kind heart, Iwould report you.     Michael was too preoccupied to be disturbed by this threat. You meanif I bring my girl here, I'd have to share her?     Certainly. And she'd have to share you. If somebody wanted you, thatis.     Then I'm not staying here, Michael declared firmly, ashamed to admiteven to himself how much relief his decision was bringing him. I don'tthink I like it, anyhow. I'm going back to the Brotherhood.     There was a short cold silence.     You know, son, Carpenter finally said, I think you might be right.I don't want to hurt your feelings—you      promise     I won't hurt yourfeelings? he asked anxiously, afraid, Michael realized, that he mightcall a policeman for ego injury.     You won't hurt my feelings, Mr. Carpenter.     Well, I believe that there are certain individuals who just cannotadapt themselves to civilized behavior patterns. It's much better forthem to belong to a Brotherhood such as yours than to be placed in oneof the government incarceratoriums, comfortable and commodious thoughthey are.     Much better, Michael agreed.     By the way, Carpenter went on, I realize this is just vulgarcuriosity on my part and you have a right to refuse an answer withoutfear of hurting my feelings, but how do you happen to have a—er—girlwhen you belong to a Brotherhood?     Michael laughed. Oh, 'Brotherhood' is merely a generic term. Bothsexes are represented in our society.     On Talitha— Carpenter began.     I know, Michael interrupted him, like the crude primitive he was andalways would be. But our females don't mind being generic.  <doc-sep>Edmund rapped the table to gain the family's attention. I'd say we'vedone everything we can for the moment to find Ivan. We've made athorough local search. A wider one, which we can't conduct personally,is in progress. All helpful agencies have been alerted and descriptionsare being broadcast. I suggest we get on with the business of theevening—which may very well be connected with Ivan's disappearance.     One by one the others nodded and took their places at the round table.Celeste made a great effort to throw off the feeling of unreality thathad engulfed her and focus attention on her microfilms.     I'll take over Ivan's notes, she heard Edmund say. They're mainlyabout the Deep Shaft.     How far have they got with that? Frieda asked idly. Twenty-fivemiles?     Nearer thirty, I believe, Edmund answered, and still going down.     At those last two words they all looked up quickly. Then their eyeswent toward Ivan's briefcase.  <doc-sep>While the TV voice intoned the poem, growing richer as emotion caughtit up, Celeste looked around her at the others. Frieda, with hertouch of feminine helplessness showing more than ever through herbusiness-like poise. Theodor leaning forward from his scarlet cloakthrown back, smiling the half-smile with which he seemed to face eventhe unknown. Black Edmund, masking a deep uncertainty with a strongshow of decisiveness.     In short, her family. She knew their every quirk and foible. And yetnow they seemed to her a million miles away, figures seen through thewrong end of a telescope.     Were they really a family? Strong sources of mutual strength andsecurity to each other? Or had they merely been playing family,experimenting with their notions of complex marriage like a bunch ofsilly adolescents? Butterflies taking advantage of good weather towing together in a glamorous, artificial dance—until outraged Naturedecided to wipe them out?     As the poem was ending, Celeste saw the door open and Rosalind comeslowly in. The Golden Woman's face was white as the paths she had beentreading.     Just then the TV voice quickened with shock. News! Lunar ObservatoryOne reports that, although Jupiter is just about to pass behind theSun, a good coronagraph of the planet has been obtained. Checked andrechecked, it admits of only one interpretation, which Lunar Onefeels duty-bound to release.      Jupiter's fourteen moons are no longervisible!          The chorus of remarks with which the Wolvers would otherwise havereceived this was checked by one thing: the fact that Rosalind seemednot to hear it. Whatever was on her mind prevented even that incrediblestatement from penetrating.     She walked shakily to the table and put down a briefcase, one end ofwhich was smudged with dirt.     Without looking at them, she said, Ivan left the Deep Space Bartwenty minutes ago, said he was coming straight here. On my way backI searched the path. Midway I found this half-buried in the dirt. Ihad to tug to get it out—almost as if it had been cemented into theground. Do you feel how the dirt seems to be      in     the leather, as ifit had lain for years in the grave?     By now the others were fingering the small case of microfilms they hadseen so many times in Ivan's competent hands. What Rosalind said wastrue. It had a gritty, unwholesome feel to it. Also, it felt strangelyheavy.     And see what's written on it, she added.     They turned it over. Scrawled with white pencil in big, hasty, franticletters were two words:     Going down!  <doc-sep>Dotty suddenly began to turn and toss, and a look of terror came overher sleeping face. Celeste leaned forward apprehensively.     The child's lips worked and Celeste made out the sleepy-fuzzy words:They've found out where we're hiding. They're coming to get us. No!Please, no!     Celeste's reactions were mixed. She felt worried about Dotty and atthe same time almost in terror of her, as if the little girl were anagent of supernatural forces. She told herself that this fear was anexpression of her own hostility, yet she didn't really believe it. Shetouched the child's hand.     Dotty's eyes opened without making Celeste feel she had quite comeawake. After a bit she looked at Celeste and her little lips parted ina smile.     Hello, she said sleepily. I've been having such funny dreams. Then,after a pause, frowning, I really am a god, you know. It feels veryqueer.     Yes, dear? Celeste prompted uneasily. Shall I call Frieda?     The smile left Dotty's lips. Why do you act so nervous around me? sheasked. Don't you love me, Mummy?     Celeste started at the word. Her throat closed. Then, very slowly, herface broke into a radiant smile. Of course I do, darling. I love youvery much.     Dotty nodded happily, her eyes already closed again.     There was a sudden flurry of excited voices beyond the door. Celesteheard her name called. She stood up.     I'm going to have to go out and talk with the others, she said. Ifyou want me, dear, just call.     Yes, Mummy.  <doc-sep>Breakfast was finally over and the rest of my family dispersed to theirvarious jobs. Father simply took his briefcase and disappeared—he wasa traveling salesman and he had a morning appointment clear across thecontinent. The others, not having his particular gift, had to takethe helibus to their different destinations. Mother, as I said, was apsychiatrist. Sylvia wrote advertising copy. Tim was a meteorologist.Dan was a junior executive in a furniture moving company and expected apromotion to senior rank as soon as he achieved a better mental grip onpianos.     Only I had no job, no profession, no place in life. Of course therewere certain menial tasks a psi-negative could perform, but my parentswould have none of them—partly for my sake, but mostly for the sake oftheir own community standing.     We don't need what little money Kev could bring in, my father alwayssaid. I can afford to support my family. He can stay home and takecare of the house.     And that's what I did. Not that there was much to do except call atechno whenever one of the servomechanisms missed a beat. True enough,those things had to be watched mighty carefully because, if they brokedown, it sometimes took days before the repair and/or replacementrobots could come. There never were enough of them because ours was aconstructive society. Still, being a machine-sitter isn't very much ofa career. And every function that wasn't the prerogative of a machinecould be done ten times more quickly and efficiently by some member ofmy family than I could do it. If I went ahead and did something anyway,they would just do it all over again when they got home.     So I had nothing to do all day. I had a special dispensation totake books out of the local Archives, because I was a deficient andcouldn't receive the tellie programs. Almost everybody on Earth wastelepathic to some degree and could get the amplified projections evenif he couldn't transmit or receive with his natural powers. But I gotnothing. I had to derive all my recreation from reading, and you canget awfully tired of books, especially when they're all at least ahundred years old and written by primitives. I could borrow soundtapes, but they also bored me after a while.     I thought maybe I could develop a talent for composing or painting,which would classify me as a telesensitive—artistic ability beingconsidered as the oldest, if least important, psi power—but I couldn'teven do anything like that.     About all there was left for me was to take long walks. Athletics wereout of the question; I couldn't compete with psi-boys and they didn'twant to compete with me. All the people in the neighborhood knew meand were nice to me, but I didn't need to be a 'path to tell what theywere saying to one another when I hove into sight. There's that oldestFaraday boy. Pity, such a talented family, to have a defective.       I didn't have a girl, either. Although some of them were sort ofattracted to me—I could see that—they could hardly go out with mewithout exposing themselves to ridicule. In their sandals, I would havedone the same thing, but that didn't stop me from hating them.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] How does Celeste's behavior towards her family members evolve throughout the story in DR. KOMETEVSKY'S DAY?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in BREAKDOWN? [SEP] <s>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>Jorj turned, smiling. And now, gentlemen, while we wait for Maizieto celebrate, there should be just enough time for us to watch thetakeoff of the Mars rocket. He switched on a giant television screen.The others made a quarter turn, and there before them glowed the richochres and blues of a New Mexico sunrise and, in the middle distance, asilvery mighty spindle.     Like the generals, the Secretary of Space suppressed a scowl. Herewas something that ought to be spang in the center of his officialterritory, and the Thinkers had locked him completely out of it. Thatrocket there—just an ordinary Earth satellite vehicle commandeeredfrom the Army, but equipped by the Thinkers with Maizie-designednuclear motors capable of the Mars journey and more. The firstspaceship—and the Secretary of Space was not in on it!     Still, he told himself, Maizie had decreed it that way. And whenhe remembered what the Thinkers had done for him in rescuing himfrom breakdown with their mental science, in rescuing the wholeAdministration from collapse he realized he had to be satisfied. Andthat was without taking into consideration the amazing additionalmental discoveries that the Thinkers were bringing down from Mars.     Lord, the President said to Jorj as if voicing the Secretary'sfeeling, I wish you people could bring a couple of those wise littledevils back with you this trip. Be a good thing for the country.     Jorj looked at him a bit coldly. It's quite unthinkable, he said.The telepathic abilities of the Martians make them extremelysensitive. The conflicts of ordinary Earth minds would impinge on thempsychotically, even fatally. As you know, the Thinkers were able tocontact them only because of our degree of learned mental poise anderrorless memory-chains. So for the present it must be our task aloneto glean from the Martians their astounding mental skills. Of course,some day in the future, when we have discovered how to armor the mindsof the Martians—     Sure, I know, the President said hastily. Shouldn't have mentionedit, Jorj.     Conversation ceased. They waited with growing tension for the greatviolet flames to bloom from the base of the silvery shaft.  <doc-sep>I wished I had been born a couple of hundred years ago—before peoplestarted playing around with nuclear energy and filling the air withradiations that they were afraid would turn human beings into hideousmonsters. Instead, they developed the psi powers that had always beenlatent in the species until we developed into a race of supermen. Idon't know why I say      we     —in 1960 or so, I might have been consideredsuperior, but in 2102 I was just the Faradays' idiot boy.     Exploring space should have been my hope. If there had been anythinguseful or interesting on any of the other planets, I might have founda niche for myself there. In totally new surroundings, the psi powersgeared to another environment might not be an advantage. But by thetime I was ten, it was discovered that the other planets were justbarren hunks of rock, with pressures and climates and atmospheresdrastically unsuited to human life. A year or so before, the hyperdrivehad been developed on Earth and ships had been sent out to explore thestars, but I had no hope left in that direction any more.     I was an atavism in a world of peace and plenty. Peace, because peoplecouldn't indulge in war or even crime with so many telepaths runningaround—not because, I told myself, the capacity for primitive behaviorwasn't just as latent in everybody else as the psi talent seemed latentin me. Tim must be right, I thought—I must have some undreamed-ofpower that only the right circumstances would bring out. But what wasthat power?     For years I had speculated on what my potential talent might be,explored every wild possibility I could conceive of and found noneproductive of even an ambiguous result with which I could fool myself.As I approached adulthood, I began to concede that I was probablynothing more than what I seemed to be—a simple psi-negative. Yet, fromtime to time, hope surged up again, as it had today, in spite of myknowledge that my hope was an impossibility. Who ever heard of latentpsi powers showing themselves in an individual as old as twenty-six?     I was almost alone in the parks where I used to walk, because peopleliked to commune with one another those days rather than with nature.Even gardening had very little popularity. But I found myself most athome in those woodland—or, rather, pseudo-woodland—surroundings,able to identify more readily with the trees and flowers than I couldwith my own kind. A fallen tree or a broken blossom would excite moresympathy from me than the minor catastrophes that will beset anyhousehold, no matter how gifted, and I would shy away from bloodynoses or cut fingers, thus giving myself a reputation for callousnessas well as extrasensory imbecility.     However, I was no more callous in steering clear of human breakdownsthan I was in not shedding tears over the household machines when theybroke down, for I felt no more closely akin to my parents and siblingsthan I did to the mechanisms that served and, sometimes, failed us.  <doc-sep>   HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS     By JIM HARMON     Illustrated by WEST     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine October 1962.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       Every lonely man tries to make friends.     Manet just didn't know when to stop!      William Manet was alone.     In the beginning, he had seen many advantages to being alone. It wouldgive him an unprecedented opportunity to once and for all correlateloneliness to the point of madness, to see how long it would take himto start slavering and clawing the pin-ups from the magazines, to beginteaching himself classes in philosophy consisting of interminablelectures to a bored and captive audience of one.     He would be able to measure the qualities of peace and decide whetherit was really better than war, he would be able to get as fat and asdirty as he liked, he would be able to live more like an animal andthink more like a god than any man for generations.     But after a shorter time than he expected, it all got to be a tearingbore. Even the waiting to go crazy part of it.     Not that he was going to have any great long wait of it. He was alreadytalking to himself, making verbal notes for his lectures, and he hadcut out a picture of Annie Oakley from an old book. He tacked it up andwinked at it whenever he passed that way.     Lately she was winking back at him.     Loneliness was a physical weight on his skull. It peeled the flesh fromhis arms and legs and sandpapered his self-pity to a fine sensitivity.     No one on Earth was as lonely as William Manet, and even William Manetcould only be this lonely on Mars.     Manet was Atmosphere Seeder Station 131-47's own human.     All Manet had to do was sit in the beating aluminum heart in the middleof the chalk desert and stare out, chin cupped in hands, at the flat,flat pavement of dirty talcum, at the stars gleaming as hard in theblack sky as a starlet's capped teeth ... stars two of which were moonsand one of which was Earth. He had to do nothing else. The wholegimcrack was cybernetically controlled, entirely automatic. No one wasneeded here—no human being, at least.     The Workers' Union was a pretty small pressure group, but it didn'ttake much to pressure the Assembly. Featherbedding had been carefullyspecified, including an Overseer for each of the Seeders to honeycombMars, to prepare its atmosphere for colonization.     They didn't give tests to find well-balanced, well-integrated peoplefor the job. Well-balanced, well-integrated men weren't going toisolate themselves in a useless job. They got, instead, William Manetand his fellows.     The Overseers were to stay as long as the job required. Passenger fareto Mars was about one billion dollars. They weren't providing commuterservice for night shifts. They weren't providing accommodationsfor couples when the law specified only one occupant. They weren'tproviding fuel (at fifty million dollars a gallon) for visits betweenthe various Overseers. They weren't very providential.     But it was two hundred thousand a year in salary, and it offeredwonderful opportunities.     It gave William Manet an opportunity to think he saw a spaceship makinga tailfirst landing on the table of the desert, its tail burning asbright as envy.  <doc-sep>   BREAKDOWN     By HERBERT D. KASTLE     Illustrated by COWLES     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine June 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       He didn't know exactly when it had started, but it had been going onfor weeks. Edna begged him to see the doctor living in that new housetwo miles past Dugan's farm, but he refused. He point-blank refused toadmit he was sick      that     way—in the head!     Of course, a man could grow forgetful. He had to admit there weremoments when he had all sorts of mixed-up memories and thoughts in hismind. And sometimes—like right now, lying in bed beside Edna, watchingthe first hint of light touch the windows—he began sweating with fear.A horrible, gut-wrenching fear, all the more horrible because it wasbased on nothing.     The chicken-run came alive; the barn followed minutes later. There werechores to do, the same chores he'd done all his forty-one years. Exceptthat now, with the new regulations about wheat and corn, he had onlya vegetable patch to farm. Sure, he got paid for letting the fieldsremain empty. But it just didn't seem right, all that land going towaste....       Davie. Blond hair and a round, tanned face and strong arms growingstronger each day from helping out after school.       He turned and shook Edna. What happened to Davie?     She cleared her throat, mumbled, Huh? What happened to who?     I said, what.... But then it slipped away. Davie? No, that was partof a dream he'd had last week. He and Edna had no children.     He felt the fear again, and got up fast to escape it. Edna opened hereyes as soon as his weight left the bed. Like hotcakes for breakfast?     Eggs, he said. Bacon. And then, seeing her face change, heremembered. Course, he muttered. Can't have bacon. Rationed.     She was fully awake now. If you'd only go see Dr. Hamming, Harry. Justfor a checkup. Or let me call him so he could—     You stop that! You stop that right now, and for good! I don't want tohear no more about doctors. I get laid up, I'll call one. And it won'tbe that Hamming who I ain't never seen in my life! It'll be Timkins,who took care'n us and brought our son into the world and....     She began to cry, and he realized he'd said something crazy again. Theyhad no son, never had a son. And Timkins—he'd died and they'd gone tohis funeral. Or so Edna said.     He himself just couldn't remember it.     He went to the bed and sat down beside her. Sorry. That was just adream I had. I'm still half asleep this morning. Couldn't fall off lastnight, not till real late. Guess I'm a little nervous, what with allthe new regulations and not working regular. I never meant we had ason. He waited then, hoping she'd say they      had     had a son, and he'ddied or gone away. But of course she didn't.  <doc-sep>Until then, I'd managed somehow to keep the day's minor disasters fromruining my mood. Even while eating that horrible egg—I couldn't verywell throw it away, broken yolk or no; it was my breakfast allotmentand I was hungry—and while hurriedly jury-rigging drapery across thatgaspingly transparent window—one hundred and fifty-three storiesstraight down to slag—I kept going over and over my prepared proposalspeeches, trying to select the most effective one.     I had a Whimsical Approach: Honey, I see there's a nice littleNon-P apartment available up on one seventy-three. And I had aRomantic Approach: Darling, I can't live without you at the moment.Temporarily, I'm madly in love with you. I want to share my lifewith you for a while. Will you be provisionally mine? I even had aStraightforward Approach: Linda, I'm going to be needing a wife for atleast a year or two, and I can't think of anyone I would rather spendthat time with than you.     Actually, though I wouldn't even have admitted this to Linda, much lessto anyone else, I loved her in more than a Non-P way. But even if weboth had been genetically desirable (neither of us were) I knew thatLinda relished her freedom and independence too much to ever contractfor any kind of marriage other than Non-P—Non-Permanent, No Progeny.     So I rehearsed my various approaches, realizing that when the timecame I would probably be so tongue-tied I'd be capable of no morethan a blurted, Will you marry me? and I struggled with zippers andmalfunctioning air-cons, and I managed somehow to leave the apartmentat five minutes to ten.     Linda lived down on the hundred fortieth floor, thirteen stories away.It never took more than two or three minutes to get to her place, so Iwas giving myself plenty of time.     But then the elevator didn't come.     I pushed the button, waited, and nothing happened. I couldn'tunderstand it.     The elevator had always arrived before, within thirty seconds ofthe button being pushed. This was a local stop, with an elevatorthat traveled between the hundred thirty-third floor and the hundredsixty-seventh floor, where it was possible to make connections foreither the next local or for the express. So it couldn't be more thantwenty stories away. And this was a non-rush hour.     I pushed the button again, and then I waited some more. I looked at mywatch and it was three minutes to ten. Two minutes, and no elevator! Ifit didn't arrive this instant, this second, I would be late.     It didn't arrive.     I vacillated, not knowing what to do next. Stay, hoping the elevatorwould come after all? Or hurry back to the apartment and call Linda, togive her advance warning that I would be late?     Ten more seconds, and still no elevator. I chose the secondalternative, raced back down the hall, and thumbed my way into myapartment. I dialed Linda's number, and the screen lit up with whiteletters on black: PRIVACY DISCONNECTION.     Of course! Linda expected me at any moment. And she knew what I wantedto say to her, so quite naturally she had disconnected the phone, tokeep us from being interrupted.     Frantic, I dashed from the apartment again, back down the hall to theelevator, and leaned on that blasted button with all my weight. Even ifthe elevator should arrive right now, I would still be almost a minutelate.     No matter. It didn't arrive.     I would have been in a howling rage anyway, but this impossibilitypiled on top of all the other annoyances and breakdowns of the daywas just too much. I went into a frenzy, and kicked the elevator doorthree times before I realized I was hurting myself more than I washurting the door. I limped back to the apartment, fuming, slammed thedoor behind me, grabbed the phone book and looked up the number ofthe Transit Staff. I dialed, prepared to register a complaint so loudthey'd be able to hear me in sub-basement three.     I got some more letters that spelled: BUSY.  <doc-sep>She was pink and clean and her platinum hair was pulled straight back,drawing her cheek-bones tighter, straightening her wide, appealingmouth, drawing her lean, athletic, feminine body erect. She was wearinga powder-blue dress that covered all of her breasts and hips and theupper half of her legs.     The most wonderful thing about her was her perfume. Then I realized itwasn't perfume, only the scent of soap. Finally, I knew it wasn't that.It was just healthy, fresh-scrubbed skin.     I went to her at the bus stop, forcing my legs not to stagger. Nobodywould help a drunk. I don't know why, but nobody will help you if theythink you are blotto.     Ma'am, could you help a man who's not had work? I kept my eyes down.I couldn't look a human in the eye and ask for help. Just a dime for acup of coffee. I knew where I could get it for three cents, maybe twoand a half.     I felt her looking at me. She spoke in an educated voice, one she used,perhaps, as a teacher or supervising telephone operator. Do you wantit for coffee, or to apply, or a glass or hypo of something else?     I cringed and whined. She would expect it of me. I suddenly realizedthat anybody as clean as she was had to be a tourist here. I hatetourists.     Just coffee, ma'am. She was younger than I was, so I didn't have tocall her that. A little more for food, if you could spare it.     I hadn't eaten in a day and a half, but I didn't care much.     I'll buy you a dinner, she said carefully, provided I can go withyou and see for myself that you actually eat it.     I felt my face flushing red. You wouldn't want to be seen with a bumlike me, ma'am.     I'll be seen with you if you really want to eat.     It was certainly unfair and probably immoral. But I had no choicewhatever.     Okay, I said, tasting bitterness over the craving.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in BREAKDOWN?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What are the characteristics of Doctor Hamming? [SEP] <s>Suddenly, he understood. And understanding brought not peace but thegreatest terror he'd ever known. He screamed, We're on.... but theswitch was thrown and there was no more speech. For an hour. Then hegot out of the chair and said, Sure glad I took my wife's advice andcame to see you, Doctor Hamming. I feel better already, and after onlyone.... What do you call these treatments?     Diathermy, the little doctor muttered.     Harry gave him a five-dollar bill. The doctor gave him two singles inchange. That's certainly reasonable enough, Harry said.     The doctor nodded. There's a police officer in the hall. He'll driveyou home so there won't be any trouble with the travel regulations.     Harry said, Thanks. Think we'll ever see the end of travel regulationsand rationing and all the rest of the emergency?     You will, Mr. Burr.     Harry walked to the door.     We're on an ark, the doctor said.     Harry turned around, smiling. What?     A test, Mr. Burr. You passed it. Goodbye.     Harry went home. He told Edna he felt just great! She said she'd beenworried when an officer found Plum wandering on the road; she thoughtmaybe Harry had gone off somewhere and broken travel regulations.     Me? he exclaimed, amazed. Break travel regulations? I'd as soon killa pig!   <doc-sep>   BREAKDOWN     By HERBERT D. KASTLE     Illustrated by COWLES     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine June 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       He didn't know exactly when it had started, but it had been going onfor weeks. Edna begged him to see the doctor living in that new housetwo miles past Dugan's farm, but he refused. He point-blank refused toadmit he was sick      that     way—in the head!     Of course, a man could grow forgetful. He had to admit there weremoments when he had all sorts of mixed-up memories and thoughts in hismind. And sometimes—like right now, lying in bed beside Edna, watchingthe first hint of light touch the windows—he began sweating with fear.A horrible, gut-wrenching fear, all the more horrible because it wasbased on nothing.     The chicken-run came alive; the barn followed minutes later. There werechores to do, the same chores he'd done all his forty-one years. Exceptthat now, with the new regulations about wheat and corn, he had onlya vegetable patch to farm. Sure, he got paid for letting the fieldsremain empty. But it just didn't seem right, all that land going towaste....       Davie. Blond hair and a round, tanned face and strong arms growingstronger each day from helping out after school.       He turned and shook Edna. What happened to Davie?     She cleared her throat, mumbled, Huh? What happened to who?     I said, what.... But then it slipped away. Davie? No, that was partof a dream he'd had last week. He and Edna had no children.     He felt the fear again, and got up fast to escape it. Edna opened hereyes as soon as his weight left the bed. Like hotcakes for breakfast?     Eggs, he said. Bacon. And then, seeing her face change, heremembered. Course, he muttered. Can't have bacon. Rationed.     She was fully awake now. If you'd only go see Dr. Hamming, Harry. Justfor a checkup. Or let me call him so he could—     You stop that! You stop that right now, and for good! I don't want tohear no more about doctors. I get laid up, I'll call one. And it won'tbe that Hamming who I ain't never seen in my life! It'll be Timkins,who took care'n us and brought our son into the world and....     She began to cry, and he realized he'd said something crazy again. Theyhad no son, never had a son. And Timkins—he'd died and they'd gone tohis funeral. Or so Edna said.     He himself just couldn't remember it.     He went to the bed and sat down beside her. Sorry. That was just adream I had. I'm still half asleep this morning. Couldn't fall off lastnight, not till real late. Guess I'm a little nervous, what with allthe new regulations and not working regular. I never meant we had ason. He waited then, hoping she'd say they      had     had a son, and he'ddied or gone away. But of course she didn't.  <doc-sep>They ate in the kitchen. They talked—or rather Edna, Gloria and Waltdid. Harry nodded and said uh-huh and used his mouth for chewing.     Walt and Gloria went home at ten-fifteen. They said goodbye at thedoor and Harry walked away. He heard Gloria whispering something aboutDoctor Hamming.     He was sitting in the living room when Edna came in. She was crying.Harry, please see the doctor.     He got up. I'm going out. I might even sleep out!     But why, Harry, why?     He couldn't stand to see her crying. He went to her, kissed her wetcheek, spoke more softly. It'll do me good, like when I was a kid.     If you say so, Harry.     He left quickly. He went outside and across the yard to the road. Helooked up it and down it, to the north and to the south. It was abright night with moon and stars, but he saw nothing, no one. The roadwas empty. It was always empty, except when Walt and Gloria walked overfrom their place a mile or so south. But once it hadn't been empty.Once there'd been cars, people....     He had to do something. Just sitting and looking at the sky wouldn'thelp him. He had to go somewhere, see someone.     He went to the barn and looked for his saddle. There was no saddle. Buthe'd had one hanging right behind the door. Or had he?     He threw a blanket over Plum, the big mare, and tied it with a piece ofwash line. He used another piece for a bridle, since he couldn't findthat either, and didn't bother making a bit. He mounted, and Plum movedout of the barn and onto the road. He headed north, toward town.     Then he realized he couldn't go along the road this way. He'd bereported. Breaking travel regulations was a serious offense. He didn'tknow what they did to you, but it wasn't anything easy like a fine.     He cut into an unfenced, unplanted field.     His headache was back, worse now than it had ever been. His entirehead throbbed, and he leaned forward and put his cheek against Plum'smane. The mare whinnied uneasily, but he kicked her sides and she movedforward. He lay there, just wanting to go somewhere, just wanting toleave his headache and confusion behind.     He didn't know how long it was, but Plum was moving cautiously now. Heraised his head. They were approaching a fence. He noticed a gate offto the right, and pulled the rope so Plum went that way. They reachedthe gate and he got down to open it, and saw the sign. Phineas GrottonFarm. He looked up at the sky, found the constellations, turned hishead, and nodded. He'd started north, and Plum had continued north.He'd crossed land belonging both to himself and the Franklins. Now hewas leaving the Franklin farm. North of the Franklins were the Bessers.Who was this Phineas Grotton? Had he bought out Lon Besser? Butanything like that would've gotten around.     Was he forgetting again?  <doc-sep>Huge as a primitive nuclear reactor, the great electronic brain loomedabove the knot of hush-voiced men. It almost filled a two-story room inthe Thinkers' Foundation. Its front was an orderly expanse of controls,indicators, telltales, and terminals, the upper ones reached by a chairon a boom.     Although, as far as anyone knew, it could sense only the informationand questions fed into it on a tape, the human visitors could notresist the impulse to talk in whispers and glance uneasily at the greatcryptic cube. After all, it had lately taken to moving some of itsown controls—the permissible ones—and could doubtless improvise ahearing apparatus if it wanted to.     For this was the thinking machine beside which the Marks and Eniacs andManiacs and Maddidas and Minervas and Mimirs were less than Morons.This was the machine with a million times as many synapses as the humanbrain, the machine that remembered by cutting delicate notches in therims of molecules (instead of kindergarten paper-punching or the ConeyIsland shimmying of columns of mercury). This was the machine that hadgiven instructions on building the last three-quarters of itself. Thiswas the goal, perhaps, toward which fallible human reasoning and biasedhuman judgment and feeble human ambition had evolved.       This was the machine that really thought—a million-plus!       This was the machine that the timid cyberneticists and stuffyprofessional scientists had said could not be built. Yet this was themachine that the Thinkers, with characteristic Yankee push,      had     built. And nicknamed, with characteristic Yankee irreverence andgirl-fondness, Maizie.     Gazing up at it, the President of the United States felt a chordplucked within him that hadn't been sounded for decades, the dark andshivery organ chord of his Baptist childhood. Here, in a strange sense,although his reason rejected it, he felt he stood face to face withthe living God: infinitely stern with the sternness of reality, yetinfinitely just. No tiniest error or wilful misstep could ever escapethe scrutiny of this vast mentality. He shivered.  <doc-sep>The room was large, as rooms went nowadays—thirty by twenty, with deckupon deck of Donnerson micro-memory-tubes racked along one wall and abank of microfilm records along the other. In six weeks of life Popeekhad piled up an impressive collection of data.     While he stood there, the computer chattered, lights flashed. New factspoured into the memory banks. It probably went on day and night.     Can I help—oh, it's you, Mr. Walton, a white-smocked techniciansaid. Popeek employed a small army of technicians, each one facelessand without personality, but always ready to serve. Is there anythingI can do?     I'm simply running a routine checkup. Mind if I use the machine?     Not at all, sir. Go right ahead.     Walton grinned lightly and stepped forward. The technician practicallybacked out of his presence.       No doubt I must radiate charisma     , he thought. Within the building hewore a sort of luminous halo, by virtue of being Director FitzMaugham'sprotégé and second-in-command. Outside, in the colder reality of thecrowded metropolis, he kept his identity and Popeek rank quietly tohimself.     Frowning, he tried to remember the Prior boy's name. Ah ... Philip,wasn't it? He punched out a request for the card on Philip Prior.     A moment's pause followed, while the millions of tiny cryotroniccircuits raced with information pulses, searching the Donnersontubes for Philip Prior's record. Then, a brief squeaking sound and ayellow-brown card dropped out of the slot:       3216847AB1         PRIOR, Philip Hugh. Born 31 May 2232, New York General Hospital, NewYork. First son of Prior, Lyle Martin and Prior, Ava Leonard. Wgt. atbirth 5lb. 3oz.       An elaborate description of the boy in great detail followed, endingwith blood type, agglutinating characteristic, and gene-pattern,codified. Walton skipped impatiently through that and came to thenotification typed in curt, impersonal green capital letters at thebottom of the card:       EXAMINED AT N Y EUTH CLINIC 10 JUNE 2332        EUTHANASIA RECOMMENDED       He glanced at his watch: the time was 1026. The boy was probably stillsomewhere in the clinic lab, waiting for the figurative axe to descend.     Walton had set up the schedule himself: the gas chamber deliveredHappysleep each day at 1100 and 1500. He had about half an hour to savePhilip Prior.     He peered covertly over his shoulder; no one was in sight. He slippedthe baby's card into his breast pocket.     That done, he typed out a requisition for explanation of thegene-sorting code the clinic used. Symbols began pouring forth,and Walton puzzledly correlated them with the line of gibberish onPhillip Prior's record card. Finally he found the one he wanted:      3f2,tubercular-prone     .     He scrapped the guide sheet he had and typed out a message to themachine.      Revision of card number 3216847AB1 follows. Please alter inall circuits.       He proceeded to retype the child's card, omitting both the fatal symbol      3f2     and the notation recommending euthanasia from the new version.The machine beeped an acknowledgement. Walton smiled. So far, so good.     Then, he requested the boy's file all over again. After the customarypause, a card numbered 3216847AB1 dropped out of the slot. He read it.     The deletions had been made. As far as the machine was concerned,Philip Prior was a normal, healthy baby.     He glanced at his watch. 1037. Still twenty-three minutes before thismorning's haul of unfortunates was put away.     Now came the real test: could he pry the baby away from the doctorswithout attracting too much attention to himself in the process?  <doc-sep>One of the Patrolmen stopped firing, and ran toward Click and theBuilding. He got inside. Did you see them run, Click boy? What anidea. How did we do?     Fine, Irish. Fine!     So here's Gunther, the spalpeen! Gunther, the little dried up pirate,eh? Marnagan whacked Hathaway on the back. I'll have to hand it toyou, this is the best plan o' battle ever laid out. And proud I was tofight with such splendid men as these— He gestured toward the Plaza.     Click laughed with him. You should be proud. Five hundred Patrolmenwith hair like red banners flying, with thick Irish brogues and broadshoulders and freckles and blue eyes and a body as tall as yourstories!     Marnagan roared. I always said, I said—if ever there could be anarmy of Marnagans, we could lick the whole damn uneeverse! Did youphotograph it, Click?     I did. Hathaway tapped his camera happily.     Ah, then, won't that be a scoop for you, boy? Money from the Patrol sothey can use the film as instruction in Classes and money from CosmicFilms for the news-reel headlines! And what a scene, and what acting!Five hundred duplicates of Steve Marnagan, broadcast telepathicallyinto the minds of the pirates, walking across a Plaza, capturing thewhole she-bang! How did you like my death-scenes?     You're a ham. And anyway—five hundred duplicates, nothing! saidClick. He ripped the film-spool from the camera, spread it in the airto develop, inserted it in the micro-viewer. Have a look—     Marnagan looked. Ah, now. Ah, now, he said over and over. There'sthe Plaza, and there's Gunther's men fighting and then they're turningand running. And what are they running from? One man! Me. IrishMarnagan! Walking all by myself across the lawn, paralyzing them. Oneagainst a hundred, and the cowards running from me!     Sure, Click, this is better than I thought. I forgot that the filmwouldn't register telepathic emanations, them other Marnagans. Itmakes it look like I'm a mighty brave man, does it not? It does. Ah,look—look at me, Hathaway, I'm enjoying every minute of it, I am.  <doc-sep>Barry opened his eyes. The ship was in normal deceleration and NickPodtiaguine was watching him from a nearby bunk.     I could eat a cow with the smallpox, Barry declared.     Nick grinned. No doubt. You slept around the clock and more. Nice jobof work out there.     Barry unhitched his straps and sat up.     Say, he asked anxiously. What's haywire with the air?     Nick looked startled. Nothing. Everything checked out when I came offwatch a few minutes ago.     Barry shrugged. Probably just me. Guess I'll go see if I can mooch ahandout.     He found himself a hero. The cook was ready to turn the galley insideout while a radio engineer and an entomologist hovered near to wait onhim. But he couldn't enjoy the meal. The sensations of heat and drynesshe had noticed on awakening grew steadily worse. It became difficult tobreathe.     He started to rise, and abruptly the room swirled and darkened aroundhim. Even as he sank into unconsciousness he knew the answer.     The suit's Kendall-shield had leaked!     Four plunged toward Venus tail first, the Hoskins jets flaring ahead.The single doctor for the Colony had gone out in Two and the crewmentrained in first aid could do little to relieve Barry's distress.Fainting spells alternated with fever and delirium and an unquenchablethirst. His breathing became increasingly difficult.     A few thousand miles out Four picked up a microbeam. A feeling ofexultation surged through the ship as Captain Reno passed the word, forthe beam meant that some Earthmen were alive upon Venus. They were notnecessarily diving straight toward oblivion. Barry, sick as he was,felt the thrill of the unknown world that lay ahead.     Into a miles-thick layer of opacity Four roared, with Captain Renohimself jockeying throttles to keep it balanced on its self-createdsupport of flame.     You're almost in, a voice chanted into his headphones throughcrackling, sizzling static. Easy toward spherical one-thirty. Hold it!Lower. Lower. CUT YOUR POWER!     The heavy hull dropped sickeningly, struck with a mushy thud, settled,steadied.     Barry was weak, but with Nick Podtiaguine steadying him he was waitingwith the others when Captain Reno gave the last order.     Airlock open. Both doors.     Venusian air poured in.     For this I left Panama? one of the men yelped.     Enough to gag a maggot, another agreed with hand to nose.     It was like mid-summer noon in a tropical mangrove swamp, hot andunbearably humid and overpowering with the stench of decayingvegetation.     But Barry took one deep breath, then another. The stabbing needles inhis chest blunted, and the choking band around his throat loosened.     The outer door swung wide. He blinked, and a shift in the encompassingvapors gave him his first sight of a world bathed in subdued light.     Four had landed in a marsh with the midships lock only a few feet abovea quagmire surface still steaming from the final rocket blast. Nearbythe identical hulls of Two and Three stood upright in the mud. Themist shifted again and beyond the swamp he could see the low, roundedoutlines of the collapsible buildings Two and Three had carried intheir cargo pits. They were set on a rock ledge rising a few feet outof the marsh. The Colony!     Men were tossing sections of lattice duckboard out upon the swamp,extending a narrow walkway toward Four's airlock, and within a fewminutes the new arrivals were scrambling down.     Barry paid little attention to the noisy greetings and excited talk.Impatiently he trotted toward the rock ledge, searching for oneparticular figure among the men and women who waited.     Dorothy! he said fervently.     Then his arms were around her and she was responding to his kiss.     Then unexpected pain tore at his chest. Her lovely face took on anexpression of fright even as it wavered and grew dim. The last thing hesaw was Robson Hind looming beside her.     By the glow of an overhead tubelight he recognized the kindly, deeplylined features of the man bending over him. Dr. Carl Jensen, specialistin tropical diseases. He tried to sit up but the doctor laid arestraining hand on his shoulder.     Water! Barry croaked.     The doctor held out a glass. Then his eyes widened incredulously as hispatient deliberately drew in a breath while drinking, sucking waterdirectly into his lungs.     Doctor, he asked, keeping his voice low to spare his throat. Whatare my chances? On the level.     Dr. Jensen shook his head thoughtfully. There's not a thing—not adamned solitary thing—I can do. It's something new to medical science.     Barry lay still.     Your body is undergoing certain radical changes, the doctorcontinued, and you know as much—more about your condition than I do.If a normal person who took water into his lungs that way didn't die ofa coughing spasm, congestive pneumonia would get him sure. But it seemsto give you relief.     Barry scratched his neck, where a thickened, darkening patch on eachside itched infuriatingly.     What are these changes? he asked. What's this?     Those things seem to be— the doctor began hesitantly. Damn it, Iknow it sounds crazy but they're rudimentary gills.     Barry accepted the outrageous statement unemotionally. He was beyondshock.     But there must be—     Pain struck again, so intense his body twisted and archedinvoluntarily. Then the prick of a needle brought merciful oblivion.      II     Barry's mind was working furiously. The changes the Sigma radiationshad inflicted upon his body might reverse themselves spontaneously, Dr.Jensen had mentioned during a second visit—but for that to happen hemust remain alive. That meant easing all possible strains.     When the doctor came in again Barry asked him to find Nick Podtiaguine.Within a few minutes the mechanic appeared.     Cheez, it's good to see you, Barry, he began.     Stuff it, the sick man interrupted. I want favors. Can do?     Nick nodded vigorously.     First cut that air conditioner and get the window open.     Nick stared as though he were demented, but obeyed, unbolting the heavyplastic window panel and lifting it aside. He made a face at the damp,malodorous Venusian air but to Barry it brought relief.     It was not enough, but it indicated he was on the right track. And hewas not an engineer for nothing.     Got a pencil? he asked.     He drew only a rough sketch, for Nick was far too competent to needdetailed drawings.     Think you can get materials?     Nick glanced at the sketch. Hell, man, for you I can get anything theColony has. You saved Four and everybody knows it.     Two days?     Nick looked insulted.     He was back in eight hours, and with him came a dozen helpers. Apower line and water tube were run through the metal partition to thecorridor, connections were made, and the machine Barry had sketched wasready.     Nick flipped the switch. The thing whined shrilly. From a fanshapednozzle came innumerable droplets of water, droplets of colloidal sizethat hung in the air and only slowly coalesced into larger drops thatfell toward the metal floor.     Barry nodded, a smile beginning to spread across his drawn features.     Perfect. Now put the window back.     Outside lay the unknown world of Venus, and an open, unguarded windowmight invite disaster.     A few hours later Dr. Jensen found his patient in a normal sleep. Theroom was warm and the air was so filled with water-mist it was almostliquid. Coalescing drops dripped from the walls and curving ceilingand furniture, from the half clad body of the sleeping man, and thescavenger pump made greedy gulping sounds as it removed excess waterfrom the floor.     The doctor shook his head as he backed out, his clothes clinging wetfrom the short exposure.     It was abnormal.     But so was Barry Barr.     With breathing no longer a continuous agony Barry began to recover someof his strength. But for several days much of his time was spent insleep and Dorothy Voorhees haunted his dreams.     Whenever he closed his eyes he could see her as clearly as thoughshe were with him—her face with the exotic high cheek-bones—hereyes a deep gray in fascinating contrast to her raven hair—lips thatseemed to promise more of giving than she had ever allowed herself tofulfil—her incongruously pert, humorous little nose that was a legacyfrom some venturesome Irishman—her slender yet firmly lithe body.     After a few days Dr. Jensen permitted him to have visitors. They camein a steady stream, the people from Four and men he had not seen sinceTraining Base days, and although none could endure his semi-liquidatmosphere more than a few minutes at a time Barry enjoyed their visits.     But the person for whom he waited most anxiously did not arrive. Ateach knock Barry's heart would leap, and each time he settled back witha sigh of disappointment. Days passed and still Dorothy did not cometo him. He could not go to her, and stubborn pride kept him from eveninquiring. All the while he was aware of Robson Hind's presence in theColony, and only weakness kept him from pacing his room like a cagedanimal.     Through his window he could see nothing but the gradual brighteningand darkening of the enveloping fog as the slow 82-hour Venusian dayprogressed, but from his visitors' words he learned something ofVenusian conditions and the story of the Colony.     Number One had bumbled in on visual, the pilot depending on the smearyimages of infra-sight goggles. An inviting grassy plain had proved tobe a layer of algae floating on quicksand. Frantically the crew hadblasted down huge balsa-like marsh trees, cutting up the trunks withflame guns to make crude rafts. They had performed fantastic feats ofstrength and endurance but managed to salvage only half their equipmentbefore the shining nose of One had vanished in the gurgling ooze.     Lost in a steaming, stinking marsh teeming with alien creatures thatslithered and crawled and swam and flew, blinded by the eternal fog,the crew had proved the rightness of their choice as pioneers. Forweeks they had floundered across the deadly terrain until at last,beside a stagnant-looking slough that drained sluggishly into a warm,almost tideless sea a mile away, they had discovered an outcropping ofrock. It was the only solid ground they had encountered.     One man had died, his swamp suit pierced by a poisonous thorn, but theothers had hand-hauled the radio beacon piece by piece and set it upin time to guide Two to a safe landing. Houses had been assembled, thesecondary power units of the spaceship put to work, and the colony hadestablished a tenuous foothold.     Three had landed beside Two a few months later, bringingreinforcements, but the day-by-day demands of the little colony'sstruggle for survival had so far been too pressing to permit extendedor detailed explorations. Venus remained a planet of unsolved mysteries.     The helicopter brought out in Three had made several flights whichby radar and sound reflection had placed vague outlines on the blankmaps. The surface appeared to be half water, with land masses mainlyjungle-covered swamp broken by a few rocky ledges, but landings awayfrom base had been judged too hazardous.     Test borings from the ledge had located traces of oil and radioactiveminerals, while enough Venusian plants had proven edible to provide anadequate though monotonous food source.     Venus was the diametric opposite of lifeless Mars. Through the foggigantic insects hummed and buzzed like lost airplanes, but fortunatelythey were harmless and timid.     In the swamps wildly improbable life forms grew and reproduced andfought and died, and many of those most harmless in appearancepossessed surprisingly venomous characteristics.     The jungle had been flamed away in a huge circle around the colony tominimize the chances of surprise by anything that might attack, but theblasting was an almost continuous process. The plants of Venus grewwith a vigor approaching fury.     Most spectacular of the Venusian creatures were the amphibious armoredmonsters, saurian or semi-saurians with a slight resemblance to thebrontosauri that had once lived on Earth, massive swamp-dwellers thatused the slough beside the colony's ledge as a highway. They wereapparently vegetarians, but thorough stupidity in tremendous bulk madethem dangerous. One had damaged a building by blundering against it,and since then the colony had remained alert, using weapons to repelthe beasts.     The most important question—that of the presence or absence ofintelligent, civilized Venusians—remained unanswered. Some of the menreported a disquieting feeling of being watched, particularly when nearopen water, but others argued that any intelligent creatures would haveestablished contact.  <doc-sep>The tracks of his earlier journey had been erased by the soft rain, andwhen Kaiser reached the river, he found that he had not returned tothe village he had visited the day before. However, there were otherseal-people here.     And they were almost human!     The resemblance was still not so much in their physical makeup—thatwas little changed from the first he had found—as in their obviouslygreater intelligence.     This was mainly noticeable in their facile expressions as they talked.Kaiser was even certain that he read smiles on their faces when heslipped on a particularly slick mud patch as he hurried toward them.Where the members of the first tribes had all looked almost exactlyalike, these had very marked individual characteristics. Also, thesehad no odor—only a mild, rather pleasing scent. When they came to meethim, Kaiser could detect distinct syllabism in their pipings.     Most of the natives returned to the river after the first ten minutesof curious inspection, but two stayed behind as Kaiser set up his tent.     One was a female.     They made small noises while he went about his work. After a time, heunderstood that they were trying to give names to his paraphernalia. Hetried saying tent and wire and tarp as he handled each object,but their piping voices could not repeat the words. Kaiser amusedhimself by trying to imitate their sounds for the articles. He wasfairly successful. He was certain that he could soon learn enough tocarry on a limited conversation.     The male became bored after a time and left, but the girl stayed untilKaiser finished. She motioned to him then to follow. When they reachedthe river bank, he saw that she wanted him to go into the water.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What are the characteristics of Doctor Hamming?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What kind of connection exists between Edna and Harry in BREAKDOWN? [SEP] <s>   BREAKDOWN     By HERBERT D. KASTLE     Illustrated by COWLES     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine June 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       He didn't know exactly when it had started, but it had been going onfor weeks. Edna begged him to see the doctor living in that new housetwo miles past Dugan's farm, but he refused. He point-blank refused toadmit he was sick      that     way—in the head!     Of course, a man could grow forgetful. He had to admit there weremoments when he had all sorts of mixed-up memories and thoughts in hismind. And sometimes—like right now, lying in bed beside Edna, watchingthe first hint of light touch the windows—he began sweating with fear.A horrible, gut-wrenching fear, all the more horrible because it wasbased on nothing.     The chicken-run came alive; the barn followed minutes later. There werechores to do, the same chores he'd done all his forty-one years. Exceptthat now, with the new regulations about wheat and corn, he had onlya vegetable patch to farm. Sure, he got paid for letting the fieldsremain empty. But it just didn't seem right, all that land going towaste....       Davie. Blond hair and a round, tanned face and strong arms growingstronger each day from helping out after school.       He turned and shook Edna. What happened to Davie?     She cleared her throat, mumbled, Huh? What happened to who?     I said, what.... But then it slipped away. Davie? No, that was partof a dream he'd had last week. He and Edna had no children.     He felt the fear again, and got up fast to escape it. Edna opened hereyes as soon as his weight left the bed. Like hotcakes for breakfast?     Eggs, he said. Bacon. And then, seeing her face change, heremembered. Course, he muttered. Can't have bacon. Rationed.     She was fully awake now. If you'd only go see Dr. Hamming, Harry. Justfor a checkup. Or let me call him so he could—     You stop that! You stop that right now, and for good! I don't want tohear no more about doctors. I get laid up, I'll call one. And it won'tbe that Hamming who I ain't never seen in my life! It'll be Timkins,who took care'n us and brought our son into the world and....     She began to cry, and he realized he'd said something crazy again. Theyhad no son, never had a son. And Timkins—he'd died and they'd gone tohis funeral. Or so Edna said.     He himself just couldn't remember it.     He went to the bed and sat down beside her. Sorry. That was just adream I had. I'm still half asleep this morning. Couldn't fall off lastnight, not till real late. Guess I'm a little nervous, what with allthe new regulations and not working regular. I never meant we had ason. He waited then, hoping she'd say they      had     had a son, and he'ddied or gone away. But of course she didn't.  <doc-sep>Edna didn't wake him, so they had a late lunch. Then he went back tothe barn and let the four cows and four sheep and two horses into thepastures. Then he checked to see that Edna had fed the chickens right.They had only a dozen or so now.     When had he sold the rest? And when had he sold his other livestock?     Or had they died somehow? A rough winter? Disease?     He stood in the yard, a tall, husky man with pale brown hair and a facethat had once been long, lean and strong and was now only long andlean. He blinked gray eyes and tried hard to remember, then turned andwent to the house. Edna was soaking dishes in the sink, according toregulations—one sinkful of dishwater a day. And one tub of bath watertwice a week.     She was looking at him. He realized his anger and confusion must beshowing. He managed a smile. You remember how much we got for ourlivestock, Edna?     Same as everyone else, she said. Government agents paid flat rates.     He remembered then, or thought he did. The headache was back. He wentupstairs and slept again, but this time he had dreams, many of them,and all confused and all frightening. He was glad to get up. And he wasglad to hear Walt and Gloria talking to Edna downstairs.     He washed his face, combed his hair and went down. Walt and Gloria weresitting on the sofa, Edna in the blue armchair. Walt was saying he'dgotten the new TV picture tube he'd ordered. Found it in the supplybin this morning. Spent the whole day installing it according to thebook of directions.     Harry said hi and they all said hi and he sat down and they talkedabout TV and gardens and livestock. Then Harry said, How's Penny?     Fine, Gloria answered. I'm starting her on the kindergarten booknext week.     She's five already? Harry asked.     Almost six, Walt said. Emergency Education Regulations state thatthe child should be five years nine months old before embarking onkindergarten book.     And Frances? Harry asked. Your oldest? She must be startinghigh.... He stopped, because they were all staring at him, and becausehe couldn't remember Frances clearly. Just a joke, he said, laughingand rising. Let's eat. I'm starved.  <doc-sep>Suddenly, he understood. And understanding brought not peace but thegreatest terror he'd ever known. He screamed, We're on.... but theswitch was thrown and there was no more speech. For an hour. Then hegot out of the chair and said, Sure glad I took my wife's advice andcame to see you, Doctor Hamming. I feel better already, and after onlyone.... What do you call these treatments?     Diathermy, the little doctor muttered.     Harry gave him a five-dollar bill. The doctor gave him two singles inchange. That's certainly reasonable enough, Harry said.     The doctor nodded. There's a police officer in the hall. He'll driveyou home so there won't be any trouble with the travel regulations.     Harry said, Thanks. Think we'll ever see the end of travel regulationsand rationing and all the rest of the emergency?     You will, Mr. Burr.     Harry walked to the door.     We're on an ark, the doctor said.     Harry turned around, smiling. What?     A test, Mr. Burr. You passed it. Goodbye.     Harry went home. He told Edna he felt just great! She said she'd beenworried when an officer found Plum wandering on the road; she thoughtmaybe Harry had gone off somewhere and broken travel regulations.     Me? he exclaimed, amazed. Break travel regulations? I'd as soon killa pig!   <doc-sep>He whirled, staring out across the fields to his left. Why, the tractorshed had stood just fifty feet from the house!     No, he'd torn it down. The tractor was in town, being overhauled andall. He was leaving it there until he had use for it.     He went on toward the road, his head beginning to throb. Why shoulda man his age, hardly sick at all since he was a kid, suddenly startlosing hold this way? Edna was worried. The Shanks had noticed it too.     He was at the supply bin—like an old-fashioned wood bin; a box witha sloping flap lid. Deliveries of food and clothing and home medicinesand other things were left here. You wrote down what you needed, andthey left it—or whatever they allowed you—with a bill. You paid thebill by leaving money in the bin, and the next week you found a receiptand your new stuff and your new bill. And almost always you found somemoney from the government, for not planting wheat or not planting corn.It came out just about even.     He hauled out a sack of flour, half the amount of sugar Edna hadordered, some dried fruit, a new Homekit Medicine Shelf. He carried itinto the house, and noticed a slip of paper pinned to the sugar bag. Atelevision program guide.     Edna hustled over excitedly. Anything good on this week, Harry?     He looked down the listings, and frowned. All old movies. Still onlyone channel. Still only from nine to eleven at night. He gave it toher, turned away; then stopped and waited. He'd said the same thinglast week. And she had said the films were all new to her.     She said it now. Why Harry, I've never seen this movie with ClarkGable. Nor the comedy with Red Skeleton. Nor the other five neither.     I'm gonna lie down, he said flatly. He turned and stepped forward,and found himself facing the stove. Not the door to the hall; thestove. But the door.... he began. He cut himself short. He turned andsaw the door a few feet to the left, beside the table. He went thereand out and up the stairs (they too had moved; they too weren't right)and into the bedroom and lay down. The bedroom was wrong. The bed waswrong. The windows were wrong.     The world was wrong! Lord, the whole damned world was wrong!  <doc-sep>They ate in the kitchen. They talked—or rather Edna, Gloria and Waltdid. Harry nodded and said uh-huh and used his mouth for chewing.     Walt and Gloria went home at ten-fifteen. They said goodbye at thedoor and Harry walked away. He heard Gloria whispering something aboutDoctor Hamming.     He was sitting in the living room when Edna came in. She was crying.Harry, please see the doctor.     He got up. I'm going out. I might even sleep out!     But why, Harry, why?     He couldn't stand to see her crying. He went to her, kissed her wetcheek, spoke more softly. It'll do me good, like when I was a kid.     If you say so, Harry.     He left quickly. He went outside and across the yard to the road. Helooked up it and down it, to the north and to the south. It was abright night with moon and stars, but he saw nothing, no one. The roadwas empty. It was always empty, except when Walt and Gloria walked overfrom their place a mile or so south. But once it hadn't been empty.Once there'd been cars, people....     He had to do something. Just sitting and looking at the sky wouldn'thelp him. He had to go somewhere, see someone.     He went to the barn and looked for his saddle. There was no saddle. Buthe'd had one hanging right behind the door. Or had he?     He threw a blanket over Plum, the big mare, and tied it with a piece ofwash line. He used another piece for a bridle, since he couldn't findthat either, and didn't bother making a bit. He mounted, and Plum movedout of the barn and onto the road. He headed north, toward town.     Then he realized he couldn't go along the road this way. He'd bereported. Breaking travel regulations was a serious offense. He didn'tknow what they did to you, but it wasn't anything easy like a fine.     He cut into an unfenced, unplanted field.     His headache was back, worse now than it had ever been. His entirehead throbbed, and he leaned forward and put his cheek against Plum'smane. The mare whinnied uneasily, but he kicked her sides and she movedforward. He lay there, just wanting to go somewhere, just wanting toleave his headache and confusion behind.     He didn't know how long it was, but Plum was moving cautiously now. Heraised his head. They were approaching a fence. He noticed a gate offto the right, and pulled the rope so Plum went that way. They reachedthe gate and he got down to open it, and saw the sign. Phineas GrottonFarm. He looked up at the sky, found the constellations, turned hishead, and nodded. He'd started north, and Plum had continued north.He'd crossed land belonging both to himself and the Franklins. Now hewas leaving the Franklin farm. North of the Franklins were the Bessers.Who was this Phineas Grotton? Had he bought out Lon Besser? Butanything like that would've gotten around.     Was he forgetting again?  <doc-sep>It was one of those tiny foreign jobs that run on practically no gas atall. It stopped beside him and two men got out. Young men with lined,tired faces; they wore policemen's uniforms. You broke regulations,Mr. Burr. You'll have to come with us.     He nodded. He wanted to. He wanted to be taken care of. He turnedtoward Plum.     The other officer was walking around the horse. Rode her hard, hesaid, and he sounded real worried. Shouldn't have done that, Mr. Burr.We have so very few now....     The officer holding Harry's arm said, Pete.     The officer examining Plum said, It won't make any difference in awhile.     Harry looked at both of them, and felt sharp, personal fear.     Take the horse back to his farm, the officer holding Harry said. Heopened the door of the little car and pushed Harry inside. He wentaround to the driver's side and got behind the wheel and drove away.Harry looked back. Pete was leading Plum after them; not riding him,walking him. He sure must like horses, he said.     Yes.     Am I going to jail?     No.     Where then?     The doctor's place.     They stopped in front of the new house two miles past Dugan's farm.Except he'd never seen it before. Or had he? Everyone seemed to knowabout it—or was everyone only Edna and the Shanks?     He got out of the car. The officer took his arm and led him up thepath. Harry noticed that the new house was big.     When they came inside, he knew it wasn't like any house he'd ever seenor heard of. There was this long central passageway, and dozens ofdoors branched off it on both sides, and stairways went down from it inat least three places that he could see, and at the far end—a good twohundred yards away—a big ramp led upward. And it was all gray plasterwalls and dull black floors and cold white lighting, like a hospital,or a modern factory, or maybe a government building. Except that hedidn't see or hear people.     He did hear      something     ; a low, rumbling noise. The further they camealong the hall, the louder the rumbling grew. It seemed to be deep downsomewhere.  <doc-sep>He went to the bathroom and washed. By the time he came to the kitchen,Edna had hotcakes on a plate and coffee in a cup. He sat down and ate.Part way through the meal, he paused. Got an awful craving for meat,he said. Goddam those rations! Man can't even butcher his own stockfor his own table!     We're having meat for lunch, she said placatingly. Nice cut ofmulti-pro.     Multi-pro, he scoffed. God knows what's in it. Like spam put througha grinder a hundred times and then baked into slabs. Can't hardly tasteany meat there.     Well, we got no choice. Country's on emergency rations. The currentcrisis, you know.     The way she said it irritated him. Like it was Scripture; like no onecould question one word of it without being damned to Hell. He finishedquickly and without speaking went on out to the barn.     He milked and curried and fed and cleaned, and still was done insideof two hours. Then he walked slowly, head down, across the hay-strewnfloor. He stopped, put out his hand as if to find a pole or beam thatwas too familiar to require raising his eyes, and almost fell as heleaned in that direction. Regaining his balance after a sidewardstaggering shuffle, he looked around, startled. Why, this ain't theway I had my barn....     He heard his own voice, and stopped. He fought the flash of senselesspanic. Of course this was the way he'd had his barn built, because it      was     his barn!     He rubbed his hard hands together and said aloud, Get down to thepatch. Them tomatoes need fertilizer for tang. He walked outside andtook a deep breath. Air was different, wasn't it? Sweet and pure andclean, like country air always was and always would be; but still,different somehow. Maybe sharper. Or was sharp the word? Maybe....     He went quickly across the yard, past the pig-pen—he'd had twelvepigs, hadn't he? Now he had four—behind the house to where thehalf-acre truck farm lay greening in the sun. He got to work. Sometimelater, Edna called to him. Delivery last night, Harry. I took some.Pick up rest?     Yes, he shouted.     She disappeared.     He walked slowly back to the house. As he came into the front yard,moving toward the road and the supply bin, something occurred to him.      The car.     He hadn't seen the old Chevvy in ... how long? It'd be niceto take a ride to town, see a movie, maybe have a few beers.     No. It was against the travel regulations. He couldn't go further thanWalt and Gloria Shanks' place. They couldn't go further than his. Andthe gas rationing. Besides, he'd sold the car, hadn't he? Because itwas no use to him lying in the tractor shed.  <doc-sep>Until then, I'd managed somehow to keep the day's minor disasters fromruining my mood. Even while eating that horrible egg—I couldn't verywell throw it away, broken yolk or no; it was my breakfast allotmentand I was hungry—and while hurriedly jury-rigging drapery across thatgaspingly transparent window—one hundred and fifty-three storiesstraight down to slag—I kept going over and over my prepared proposalspeeches, trying to select the most effective one.     I had a Whimsical Approach: Honey, I see there's a nice littleNon-P apartment available up on one seventy-three. And I had aRomantic Approach: Darling, I can't live without you at the moment.Temporarily, I'm madly in love with you. I want to share my lifewith you for a while. Will you be provisionally mine? I even had aStraightforward Approach: Linda, I'm going to be needing a wife for atleast a year or two, and I can't think of anyone I would rather spendthat time with than you.     Actually, though I wouldn't even have admitted this to Linda, much lessto anyone else, I loved her in more than a Non-P way. But even if weboth had been genetically desirable (neither of us were) I knew thatLinda relished her freedom and independence too much to ever contractfor any kind of marriage other than Non-P—Non-Permanent, No Progeny.     So I rehearsed my various approaches, realizing that when the timecame I would probably be so tongue-tied I'd be capable of no morethan a blurted, Will you marry me? and I struggled with zippers andmalfunctioning air-cons, and I managed somehow to leave the apartmentat five minutes to ten.     Linda lived down on the hundred fortieth floor, thirteen stories away.It never took more than two or three minutes to get to her place, so Iwas giving myself plenty of time.     But then the elevator didn't come.     I pushed the button, waited, and nothing happened. I couldn'tunderstand it.     The elevator had always arrived before, within thirty seconds ofthe button being pushed. This was a local stop, with an elevatorthat traveled between the hundred thirty-third floor and the hundredsixty-seventh floor, where it was possible to make connections foreither the next local or for the express. So it couldn't be more thantwenty stories away. And this was a non-rush hour.     I pushed the button again, and then I waited some more. I looked at mywatch and it was three minutes to ten. Two minutes, and no elevator! Ifit didn't arrive this instant, this second, I would be late.     It didn't arrive.     I vacillated, not knowing what to do next. Stay, hoping the elevatorwould come after all? Or hurry back to the apartment and call Linda, togive her advance warning that I would be late?     Ten more seconds, and still no elevator. I chose the secondalternative, raced back down the hall, and thumbed my way into myapartment. I dialed Linda's number, and the screen lit up with whiteletters on black: PRIVACY DISCONNECTION.     Of course! Linda expected me at any moment. And she knew what I wantedto say to her, so quite naturally she had disconnected the phone, tokeep us from being interrupted.     Frantic, I dashed from the apartment again, back down the hall to theelevator, and leaned on that blasted button with all my weight. Even ifthe elevator should arrive right now, I would still be almost a minutelate.     No matter. It didn't arrive.     I would have been in a howling rage anyway, but this impossibilitypiled on top of all the other annoyances and breakdowns of the daywas just too much. I went into a frenzy, and kicked the elevator doorthree times before I realized I was hurting myself more than I washurting the door. I limped back to the apartment, fuming, slammed thedoor behind me, grabbed the phone book and looked up the number ofthe Transit Staff. I dialed, prepared to register a complaint so loudthey'd be able to hear me in sub-basement three.     I got some more letters that spelled: BUSY.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What kind of connection exists between Edna and Harry in BREAKDOWN?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the backdrop of the story BREAKDOWN? [SEP] <s>Jorj turned, smiling. And now, gentlemen, while we wait for Maizieto celebrate, there should be just enough time for us to watch thetakeoff of the Mars rocket. He switched on a giant television screen.The others made a quarter turn, and there before them glowed the richochres and blues of a New Mexico sunrise and, in the middle distance, asilvery mighty spindle.     Like the generals, the Secretary of Space suppressed a scowl. Herewas something that ought to be spang in the center of his officialterritory, and the Thinkers had locked him completely out of it. Thatrocket there—just an ordinary Earth satellite vehicle commandeeredfrom the Army, but equipped by the Thinkers with Maizie-designednuclear motors capable of the Mars journey and more. The firstspaceship—and the Secretary of Space was not in on it!     Still, he told himself, Maizie had decreed it that way. And whenhe remembered what the Thinkers had done for him in rescuing himfrom breakdown with their mental science, in rescuing the wholeAdministration from collapse he realized he had to be satisfied. Andthat was without taking into consideration the amazing additionalmental discoveries that the Thinkers were bringing down from Mars.     Lord, the President said to Jorj as if voicing the Secretary'sfeeling, I wish you people could bring a couple of those wise littledevils back with you this trip. Be a good thing for the country.     Jorj looked at him a bit coldly. It's quite unthinkable, he said.The telepathic abilities of the Martians make them extremelysensitive. The conflicts of ordinary Earth minds would impinge on thempsychotically, even fatally. As you know, the Thinkers were able tocontact them only because of our degree of learned mental poise anderrorless memory-chains. So for the present it must be our task aloneto glean from the Martians their astounding mental skills. Of course,some day in the future, when we have discovered how to armor the mindsof the Martians—     Sure, I know, the President said hastily. Shouldn't have mentionedit, Jorj.     Conversation ceased. They waited with growing tension for the greatviolet flames to bloom from the base of the silvery shaft.  <doc-sep>  THE GIANTS RETURN     By ROBERT ABERNATHY     Earth set itself grimly to meet them with     corrosive fire, determined to blast them     back to the stars. But they erred in thinking     the Old Ones were too big to be clever.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      In the last hours the star ahead had grown brighter by many magnitudes,and had changed its color from a dazzling blue through white to thenormal yellow, of a GO sun. That was the Doppler effect as the star'sradial velocity changed relative to the      Quest III     , as for forty hoursthe ship had decelerated.     They had seen many such stars come near out of the galaxy's glitteringbackdrop, and had seen them dwindle, turn red and go out as the      QuestIII     drove on its way once more, lashed by despair toward the speed oflight, leaving behind the mockery of yet another solitary and lifelessluminary unaccompanied by worlds where men might dwell. They had grownsated with the sight of wonders—of multiple systems of giant stars, ofnebulae that sprawled in empty flame across light years.     But now unwonted excitement possessed the hundred-odd members of the      Quest III's     crew. It was a subdued excitement; men and women, theycame and stood quietly gazing into the big vision screens that showedthe oncoming star, and there were wide-eyed children who had been bornin the ship and had never seen a planet. The grownups talked in lowvoices, in tones of mingled eagerness and apprehension, of what mightlie at the long journey's end. For the      Quest III     was coming home; thesun ahead was      the     Sun, whose rays had warmed their lives' beginning.  <doc-sep>I wished I had been born a couple of hundred years ago—before peoplestarted playing around with nuclear energy and filling the air withradiations that they were afraid would turn human beings into hideousmonsters. Instead, they developed the psi powers that had always beenlatent in the species until we developed into a race of supermen. Idon't know why I say      we     —in 1960 or so, I might have been consideredsuperior, but in 2102 I was just the Faradays' idiot boy.     Exploring space should have been my hope. If there had been anythinguseful or interesting on any of the other planets, I might have founda niche for myself there. In totally new surroundings, the psi powersgeared to another environment might not be an advantage. But by thetime I was ten, it was discovered that the other planets were justbarren hunks of rock, with pressures and climates and atmospheresdrastically unsuited to human life. A year or so before, the hyperdrivehad been developed on Earth and ships had been sent out to explore thestars, but I had no hope left in that direction any more.     I was an atavism in a world of peace and plenty. Peace, because peoplecouldn't indulge in war or even crime with so many telepaths runningaround—not because, I told myself, the capacity for primitive behaviorwasn't just as latent in everybody else as the psi talent seemed latentin me. Tim must be right, I thought—I must have some undreamed-ofpower that only the right circumstances would bring out. But what wasthat power?     For years I had speculated on what my potential talent might be,explored every wild possibility I could conceive of and found noneproductive of even an ambiguous result with which I could fool myself.As I approached adulthood, I began to concede that I was probablynothing more than what I seemed to be—a simple psi-negative. Yet, fromtime to time, hope surged up again, as it had today, in spite of myknowledge that my hope was an impossibility. Who ever heard of latentpsi powers showing themselves in an individual as old as twenty-six?     I was almost alone in the parks where I used to walk, because peopleliked to commune with one another those days rather than with nature.Even gardening had very little popularity. But I found myself most athome in those woodland—or, rather, pseudo-woodland—surroundings,able to identify more readily with the trees and flowers than I couldwith my own kind. A fallen tree or a broken blossom would excite moresympathy from me than the minor catastrophes that will beset anyhousehold, no matter how gifted, and I would shy away from bloodynoses or cut fingers, thus giving myself a reputation for callousnessas well as extrasensory imbecility.     However, I was no more callous in steering clear of human breakdownsthan I was in not shedding tears over the household machines when theybroke down, for I felt no more closely akin to my parents and siblingsthan I did to the mechanisms that served and, sometimes, failed us.  <doc-sep>   The Sense of Wonder     By MILTON LESSER     Illustrated by HARRY ROSENBAUM     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      When nobody aboard ship remembers where it's     going, how can they tell when it has arrived?      Every day for a week now, Rikud had come to the viewport to watchthe great changeless sweep of space. He could not quite explain thefeelings within him; they were so alien, so unnatural. But ever sincethe engines somewhere in the rear of the world had changed their tone,from the steady whining Rikud had heard all twenty-five years of hislife, to the sullen roar that came to his ears now, the feelings hadgrown.     If anyone else had noticed the change, he failed to mention it. Thisdisturbed Rikud, although he could not tell why. And, because he hadrealized this odd difference in himself, he kept it locked up insidehim.     Today, space looked somehow different. The stars—it was a meaninglessconcept to Rikud, but that was what everyone called the brightpinpoints of light on the black backdrop in the viewport—were notapparent in the speckled profusion Rikud had always known. Instead,there was more of the blackness, and one very bright star set apartby itself in the middle of the viewport.     If he had understood the term, Rikud would have told himself this wasodd. His head ached with the half-born thought. It was—it was—whatwas it?     Someone was clomping up the companionway behind Rikud. He turned andgreeted gray-haired old Chuls.     In five more years, the older man chided, you'll be ready to sirechildren. And all you can do in the meantime is gaze out at the stars.     Rikud knew he should be exercising now, or bathing in the rays of thehealth-lamps. It had never occurred to him that he didn't feel like it;he just didn't, without comprehending.     Chuls' reminder fostered uneasiness. Often Rikud had dreamed of thetime he would be thirty and a father. Whom would the Calculator selectas his mate? The first time this idea had occurred to him, Rikudignored it. But it came again, and each time it left him with a feelinghe could not explain. Why should he think thoughts that no other manhad? Why should he think he was thinking such thoughts, when it alwaysembroiled him in a hopeless, infinite confusion that left him with aheadache?     Chuls said, It is time for my bath in the health-rays. I saw you hereand knew it was your time, too....     His voice trailed off. Rikud knew that something which he could notexplain had entered the elder man's head for a moment, but it haddeparted almost before Chuls knew of its existence.     I'll go with you, Rikud told him.  <doc-sep>   BREAKDOWN     By HERBERT D. KASTLE     Illustrated by COWLES     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine June 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       He didn't know exactly when it had started, but it had been going onfor weeks. Edna begged him to see the doctor living in that new housetwo miles past Dugan's farm, but he refused. He point-blank refused toadmit he was sick      that     way—in the head!     Of course, a man could grow forgetful. He had to admit there weremoments when he had all sorts of mixed-up memories and thoughts in hismind. And sometimes—like right now, lying in bed beside Edna, watchingthe first hint of light touch the windows—he began sweating with fear.A horrible, gut-wrenching fear, all the more horrible because it wasbased on nothing.     The chicken-run came alive; the barn followed minutes later. There werechores to do, the same chores he'd done all his forty-one years. Exceptthat now, with the new regulations about wheat and corn, he had onlya vegetable patch to farm. Sure, he got paid for letting the fieldsremain empty. But it just didn't seem right, all that land going towaste....       Davie. Blond hair and a round, tanned face and strong arms growingstronger each day from helping out after school.       He turned and shook Edna. What happened to Davie?     She cleared her throat, mumbled, Huh? What happened to who?     I said, what.... But then it slipped away. Davie? No, that was partof a dream he'd had last week. He and Edna had no children.     He felt the fear again, and got up fast to escape it. Edna opened hereyes as soon as his weight left the bed. Like hotcakes for breakfast?     Eggs, he said. Bacon. And then, seeing her face change, heremembered. Course, he muttered. Can't have bacon. Rationed.     She was fully awake now. If you'd only go see Dr. Hamming, Harry. Justfor a checkup. Or let me call him so he could—     You stop that! You stop that right now, and for good! I don't want tohear no more about doctors. I get laid up, I'll call one. And it won'tbe that Hamming who I ain't never seen in my life! It'll be Timkins,who took care'n us and brought our son into the world and....     She began to cry, and he realized he'd said something crazy again. Theyhad no son, never had a son. And Timkins—he'd died and they'd gone tohis funeral. Or so Edna said.     He himself just couldn't remember it.     He went to the bed and sat down beside her. Sorry. That was just adream I had. I'm still half asleep this morning. Couldn't fall off lastnight, not till real late. Guess I'm a little nervous, what with allthe new regulations and not working regular. I never meant we had ason. He waited then, hoping she'd say they      had     had a son, and he'ddied or gone away. But of course she didn't.  <doc-sep>In the evening a girl brought Maitland his meal. As the door slidaside, he automatically stood up, and they stared at each other forseveral seconds.     She had the high cheekbones and almond eyes of an Oriental, skin thatglowed like gold in the evening light, yet thick coiled braids ofblonde hair that glittered like polished brass. Shorts and a sleevelessblouse of some thick, reddish, metallic-looking fabric clung to herbody, and over that she was wearing a light, ankle-length cloak of whatseemed to be white wool.     She was looking at him with palpable curiosity and something likeexpectancy. Maitland sighed and said, Hello, then glanced downself-consciously at his wrinkled green pajamas.       She smiled, put the tray of food on the table, and swept out, her cloakbillowing behind her. Maitland remained standing, staring at the closeddoor for a minute after she was gone.     Later, when he had finished the steak and corn on the cob and shreddedcarrots, and a feeling of warm well-being was diffusing from hisstomach to his extremities, he sat down on the bed to watch the sunsetand to think.     There were three questions for which he required answers before hecould formulate any plan or policy.     Where was he?     Who was Swarts?     What was the purpose of the tests he was being given?     It was possible, of course, that this was all an elaborate schemefor getting military secrets, despite Swarts' protestations to thecontrary. Maitland frowned. This place certainly didn't have theappearance of a military establishment, and so far there had beennothing to suggest the kind of interrogation to be expected fromforeign intelligence officers.     It might be better to tackle the first question first. He looked atthe Sun, a red spheroid already half below the horizon, and tried tothink of a region that had this kind of terrain. That prairie out therewas unique. Almost anywhere in the world, land like that would becultivated, not allowed to go to grass.     This might be somewhere in Africa....     He shook his head, puzzled. The Sun disappeared and its blood-huedglow began to fade from the sky. Maitland sat there, trying to gethold of the problem from an angle where it wouldn't just slip away.After a while the western sky became a screen of clear luminous blue,a backdrop for a pure white brilliant star. As always at that sight,Maitland felt his worry drain away, leaving an almost mystical sense ofpeace and an undefinable longing.     Venus, the most beautiful of the planets.     Maitland kept track of them all in their majestic paths through theconstellations, but Venus was his favorite. Time and time again hehad watched its steady climb higher and higher in the western sky,its transient rule there as evening star, its progression toward thehorizon, and loved it equally in its      alter ego     of morning star. Venuswas an old friend. An old friend....     Something icy settled on the back of his neck, ran down his spine, anddiffused into his body. He stared at the planet unbelievingly, fistsclenched, forgetting to breathe.     Last night Venus hadn't been there.     Venus was a morning star just now....       Just now!       He realized the truth in that moment.  <doc-sep>Until then, I'd managed somehow to keep the day's minor disasters fromruining my mood. Even while eating that horrible egg—I couldn't verywell throw it away, broken yolk or no; it was my breakfast allotmentand I was hungry—and while hurriedly jury-rigging drapery across thatgaspingly transparent window—one hundred and fifty-three storiesstraight down to slag—I kept going over and over my prepared proposalspeeches, trying to select the most effective one.     I had a Whimsical Approach: Honey, I see there's a nice littleNon-P apartment available up on one seventy-three. And I had aRomantic Approach: Darling, I can't live without you at the moment.Temporarily, I'm madly in love with you. I want to share my lifewith you for a while. Will you be provisionally mine? I even had aStraightforward Approach: Linda, I'm going to be needing a wife for atleast a year or two, and I can't think of anyone I would rather spendthat time with than you.     Actually, though I wouldn't even have admitted this to Linda, much lessto anyone else, I loved her in more than a Non-P way. But even if weboth had been genetically desirable (neither of us were) I knew thatLinda relished her freedom and independence too much to ever contractfor any kind of marriage other than Non-P—Non-Permanent, No Progeny.     So I rehearsed my various approaches, realizing that when the timecame I would probably be so tongue-tied I'd be capable of no morethan a blurted, Will you marry me? and I struggled with zippers andmalfunctioning air-cons, and I managed somehow to leave the apartmentat five minutes to ten.     Linda lived down on the hundred fortieth floor, thirteen stories away.It never took more than two or three minutes to get to her place, so Iwas giving myself plenty of time.     But then the elevator didn't come.     I pushed the button, waited, and nothing happened. I couldn'tunderstand it.     The elevator had always arrived before, within thirty seconds ofthe button being pushed. This was a local stop, with an elevatorthat traveled between the hundred thirty-third floor and the hundredsixty-seventh floor, where it was possible to make connections foreither the next local or for the express. So it couldn't be more thantwenty stories away. And this was a non-rush hour.     I pushed the button again, and then I waited some more. I looked at mywatch and it was three minutes to ten. Two minutes, and no elevator! Ifit didn't arrive this instant, this second, I would be late.     It didn't arrive.     I vacillated, not knowing what to do next. Stay, hoping the elevatorwould come after all? Or hurry back to the apartment and call Linda, togive her advance warning that I would be late?     Ten more seconds, and still no elevator. I chose the secondalternative, raced back down the hall, and thumbed my way into myapartment. I dialed Linda's number, and the screen lit up with whiteletters on black: PRIVACY DISCONNECTION.     Of course! Linda expected me at any moment. And she knew what I wantedto say to her, so quite naturally she had disconnected the phone, tokeep us from being interrupted.     Frantic, I dashed from the apartment again, back down the hall to theelevator, and leaned on that blasted button with all my weight. Even ifthe elevator should arrive right now, I would still be almost a minutelate.     No matter. It didn't arrive.     I would have been in a howling rage anyway, but this impossibilitypiled on top of all the other annoyances and breakdowns of the daywas just too much. I went into a frenzy, and kicked the elevator doorthree times before I realized I was hurting myself more than I washurting the door. I limped back to the apartment, fuming, slammed thedoor behind me, grabbed the phone book and looked up the number ofthe Transit Staff. I dialed, prepared to register a complaint so loudthey'd be able to hear me in sub-basement three.     I got some more letters that spelled: BUSY.  <doc-sep>Bob Parker came to, the emptiness of remote starlight in his face. Heopened his eyes. He was slowly revolving on an axis. Sometimes the Sunswept across his line of vision. A cold hammering began at the base ofhis skull, a sensation similar to that of being buried alive. There wasno asteroid, no girl, no Queazy. He was alone in the vastness of space.Alone in a space-suit.     Queazy! he whispered. Queazy! I'm running out of air!     There was no answer from Queazy. With sick eyes, Bob studied theoxygen indicator. There was only five pounds pressure. Five pounds!That meant he had been floating around out here—how long? Days atleast—maybe weeks! It was evident that somebody had given him a doseof spastic rays, enough to screw up every muscle in his body to thesnapping point, putting him in such a condition of suspended animationthat his oxygen needs were small. He closed his eyes, trying to fightagainst panic. He was glad he couldn't see any part of his body. He wasprobably scrawny. And he was hungry!     I'll starve, he thought. Or suffocate to death first!     He couldn't keep himself from taking in great gulps of air. Minutes,then hours passed. He was breathing abnormally, and there wasn't enoughair in the first place. He pleaded continually for Queazy, hopingthat somehow Queazy could help, when probably Queazy was in the samecondition. He ripped out wild curses directed at the Saylor brothers.Murderers, both of them! Up until this time, he had merely thought ofthem as business rivals. If he ever got out of this—     He groaned. He never would get out of it! After another hour, he wasgasping weakly, and yellow spots danced in his eyes. He called Queazy'sname once more, knowing that was the last time he would have strengthto call it.     And this time the headset spoke back!     Bob Parker made a gurgling sound. A voice came again, washed withstatic, far away, burbling, but excited. Bob made a rattling sound inhis throat. Then his eyes started to close, but he imagined that he sawa ship, shiny and small, driving toward him, growing in size againstthe backdrop of the Milky Way. He relapsed, a terrific buzzing in hisears.     He did not lose consciousness. He heard voices, Queazy's and thegirl's, whoever she was. Somebody grabbed hold of his foot. Hisaquarium was unbuckled and good air washed over his streaming face.The sudden rush of oxygen to his brain dizzied him. Then he was lyingon a bunk, and gradually the world beyond his sick body focussed in hisclearing eyes and he knew he was alive—and going to stay that way, forawhile anyway.     Thanks, Queazy, he said huskily.     Queazy was bending over him, his anxiety clearing away from hissuddenly brightening face.     Don't thank me, he whispered. We'd have both been goners if ithadn't been for her. The Saylor brothers left her paralyzed likeus, and when she woke up she was on a slow orbit around her ship.She unstrapped her holster and threw it away from her and it gaveher enough reaction to reach the ship. She got inside and used thedirection-finder on the telaudio and located me first. The Saylorsscattered us far and wide. Queazy's broad, normally good-humored facetwisted blackly. The so and so's didn't care if we lived or died.     Bob saw the girl now, standing a little behind Queazy, looking down athim curiously, but unhappily. Her space-suit was off. She was wearinglightly striped blue slacks and blue silk blouse and she had a paperflower in her hair. Something in Bob's stomach caved in as his eyeswidened on her.     The girl said glumly, I guess you men won't much care for me when youfind out who I am and what I've done. I'm Starre Lowenthal—Andrew S.Burnside's granddaughter!  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the backdrop of the story BREAKDOWN?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What are the regulations enforced by the government in BREAKDOWN? [SEP] <s>   BREAKDOWN     By HERBERT D. KASTLE     Illustrated by COWLES     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Magazine June 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]       He didn't know exactly when it had started, but it had been going onfor weeks. Edna begged him to see the doctor living in that new housetwo miles past Dugan's farm, but he refused. He point-blank refused toadmit he was sick      that     way—in the head!     Of course, a man could grow forgetful. He had to admit there weremoments when he had all sorts of mixed-up memories and thoughts in hismind. And sometimes—like right now, lying in bed beside Edna, watchingthe first hint of light touch the windows—he began sweating with fear.A horrible, gut-wrenching fear, all the more horrible because it wasbased on nothing.     The chicken-run came alive; the barn followed minutes later. There werechores to do, the same chores he'd done all his forty-one years. Exceptthat now, with the new regulations about wheat and corn, he had onlya vegetable patch to farm. Sure, he got paid for letting the fieldsremain empty. But it just didn't seem right, all that land going towaste....       Davie. Blond hair and a round, tanned face and strong arms growingstronger each day from helping out after school.       He turned and shook Edna. What happened to Davie?     She cleared her throat, mumbled, Huh? What happened to who?     I said, what.... But then it slipped away. Davie? No, that was partof a dream he'd had last week. He and Edna had no children.     He felt the fear again, and got up fast to escape it. Edna opened hereyes as soon as his weight left the bed. Like hotcakes for breakfast?     Eggs, he said. Bacon. And then, seeing her face change, heremembered. Course, he muttered. Can't have bacon. Rationed.     She was fully awake now. If you'd only go see Dr. Hamming, Harry. Justfor a checkup. Or let me call him so he could—     You stop that! You stop that right now, and for good! I don't want tohear no more about doctors. I get laid up, I'll call one. And it won'tbe that Hamming who I ain't never seen in my life! It'll be Timkins,who took care'n us and brought our son into the world and....     She began to cry, and he realized he'd said something crazy again. Theyhad no son, never had a son. And Timkins—he'd died and they'd gone tohis funeral. Or so Edna said.     He himself just couldn't remember it.     He went to the bed and sat down beside her. Sorry. That was just adream I had. I'm still half asleep this morning. Couldn't fall off lastnight, not till real late. Guess I'm a little nervous, what with allthe new regulations and not working regular. I never meant we had ason. He waited then, hoping she'd say they      had     had a son, and he'ddied or gone away. But of course she didn't.  <doc-sep>Suddenly, he understood. And understanding brought not peace but thegreatest terror he'd ever known. He screamed, We're on.... but theswitch was thrown and there was no more speech. For an hour. Then hegot out of the chair and said, Sure glad I took my wife's advice andcame to see you, Doctor Hamming. I feel better already, and after onlyone.... What do you call these treatments?     Diathermy, the little doctor muttered.     Harry gave him a five-dollar bill. The doctor gave him two singles inchange. That's certainly reasonable enough, Harry said.     The doctor nodded. There's a police officer in the hall. He'll driveyou home so there won't be any trouble with the travel regulations.     Harry said, Thanks. Think we'll ever see the end of travel regulationsand rationing and all the rest of the emergency?     You will, Mr. Burr.     Harry walked to the door.     We're on an ark, the doctor said.     Harry turned around, smiling. What?     A test, Mr. Burr. You passed it. Goodbye.     Harry went home. He told Edna he felt just great! She said she'd beenworried when an officer found Plum wandering on the road; she thoughtmaybe Harry had gone off somewhere and broken travel regulations.     Me? he exclaimed, amazed. Break travel regulations? I'd as soon killa pig!   <doc-sep>Edna didn't wake him, so they had a late lunch. Then he went back tothe barn and let the four cows and four sheep and two horses into thepastures. Then he checked to see that Edna had fed the chickens right.They had only a dozen or so now.     When had he sold the rest? And when had he sold his other livestock?     Or had they died somehow? A rough winter? Disease?     He stood in the yard, a tall, husky man with pale brown hair and a facethat had once been long, lean and strong and was now only long andlean. He blinked gray eyes and tried hard to remember, then turned andwent to the house. Edna was soaking dishes in the sink, according toregulations—one sinkful of dishwater a day. And one tub of bath watertwice a week.     She was looking at him. He realized his anger and confusion must beshowing. He managed a smile. You remember how much we got for ourlivestock, Edna?     Same as everyone else, she said. Government agents paid flat rates.     He remembered then, or thought he did. The headache was back. He wentupstairs and slept again, but this time he had dreams, many of them,and all confused and all frightening. He was glad to get up. And he wasglad to hear Walt and Gloria talking to Edna downstairs.     He washed his face, combed his hair and went down. Walt and Gloria weresitting on the sofa, Edna in the blue armchair. Walt was saying he'dgotten the new TV picture tube he'd ordered. Found it in the supplybin this morning. Spent the whole day installing it according to thebook of directions.     Harry said hi and they all said hi and he sat down and they talkedabout TV and gardens and livestock. Then Harry said, How's Penny?     Fine, Gloria answered. I'm starting her on the kindergarten booknext week.     She's five already? Harry asked.     Almost six, Walt said. Emergency Education Regulations state thatthe child should be five years nine months old before embarking onkindergarten book.     And Frances? Harry asked. Your oldest? She must be startinghigh.... He stopped, because they were all staring at him, and becausehe couldn't remember Frances clearly. Just a joke, he said, laughingand rising. Let's eat. I'm starved.  <doc-sep>It was one of those tiny foreign jobs that run on practically no gas atall. It stopped beside him and two men got out. Young men with lined,tired faces; they wore policemen's uniforms. You broke regulations,Mr. Burr. You'll have to come with us.     He nodded. He wanted to. He wanted to be taken care of. He turnedtoward Plum.     The other officer was walking around the horse. Rode her hard, hesaid, and he sounded real worried. Shouldn't have done that, Mr. Burr.We have so very few now....     The officer holding Harry's arm said, Pete.     The officer examining Plum said, It won't make any difference in awhile.     Harry looked at both of them, and felt sharp, personal fear.     Take the horse back to his farm, the officer holding Harry said. Heopened the door of the little car and pushed Harry inside. He wentaround to the driver's side and got behind the wheel and drove away.Harry looked back. Pete was leading Plum after them; not riding him,walking him. He sure must like horses, he said.     Yes.     Am I going to jail?     No.     Where then?     The doctor's place.     They stopped in front of the new house two miles past Dugan's farm.Except he'd never seen it before. Or had he? Everyone seemed to knowabout it—or was everyone only Edna and the Shanks?     He got out of the car. The officer took his arm and led him up thepath. Harry noticed that the new house was big.     When they came inside, he knew it wasn't like any house he'd ever seenor heard of. There was this long central passageway, and dozens ofdoors branched off it on both sides, and stairways went down from it inat least three places that he could see, and at the far end—a good twohundred yards away—a big ramp led upward. And it was all gray plasterwalls and dull black floors and cold white lighting, like a hospital,or a modern factory, or maybe a government building. Except that hedidn't see or hear people.     He did hear      something     ; a low, rumbling noise. The further they camealong the hall, the louder the rumbling grew. It seemed to be deep downsomewhere.  <doc-sep>The chief called me in one day. He looked haggard.     Er—old man, he said, not quite able to bring himself to utter myname, I'm going to have to switch you to another department. How wouldyou like to work on nutrition kits? Very interesting work.     Nutrition kits?      Me?     On nutrition kits?     Well, I—er—know it sounds unusual, but it justifies. I just hadthe cybs work it over in the light of present regulations, and itjustifies.     Everything had to justify, of course. Every act in the monthly reporthad to be covered by regulations and cross-regulations. Of course therewere so many regulations that if you just took the time to work it out,you could justify damn near anything. I knew what the chief was up to.Just to remove me from my post would have taken a year of applicationsand hearings and innumerable visits to the capital in Center One. Butif I should infract—deliberately infract—it would enable the chief tolet me go. The equivalent of resigning.     I'll infract, I said. Rather than go on nutrition kits, I'llinfract.     He looked vastly relieved. Uh—fine, he said. I rather hoped youwould.     It took a week or so. Then I was on Non-Productive status and issued anN/P book for my necessities. Very few luxury coupons in the N/P book.I didn't really mind at first. My new living machine was smaller, butbasically comfortable, and since I was still a loyal member of thestate and a verified conformist, I wouldn't starve.     But I didn't know what I was in for.     I went from bureau to bureau, office to office, department todepartment—any place where they might use a space drive expert. Apattern began to emerge; the same story everywhere. When I mentioned myspecialty they would look delighted. When I handed them my tag and theysaw my name, they would go into immediate polite confusion. As soon asthey recovered they would say they'd call me if anything turned up....  <doc-sep>The old man stared at the door, an obsolete visual projector wobblingprecariously on his head. He closed his eyes and the lettering on thedoor disappeared. Cassal was too far away to see what it had been. Thetechnician opened his eyes and concentrated. Slowly a new sign formedon the door.     TRAVELERS AID BUREAU     Murra Foray, First Counselor     It was a drab sign, but, then, it was a dismal, backward planet. Theold technician passed on to the next door and closed his eyes again.     With a sinking feeling, Cassal walked toward the entrance. He neededhelp and he had to find it in this dingy rathole.     Inside, though, it wasn't dingy and it wasn't a rathole. More like amaze, an approved scientific one. Efficient, though not comfortable.Travelers Aid was busier than he thought it would be. Eventually hemanaged to squeeze into one of the many small counseling rooms.     A woman appeared on the screen, crisp and cool. Please answereverything the machine asks. When the tape is complete, I'll beavailable for consultation.     Cassal wasn't sure he was going to like her. Is this necessary? heasked. It's merely a matter of information.     We have certain regulations we abide by. The woman smiled frostily.I can't give you any information until you comply with them.     Sometimes regulations are silly, said Cassal firmly. Let me speak tothe first counselor.     You are speaking to her, she said. Her face disappeared from thescreen.     Cassal sighed. So far he hadn't made a good impression.     Travelers Aid Bureau, in addition to regulations, was abundantlysupplied with official curiosity. When the machine finished with him,Cassal had the feeling he could be recreated from the record it had ofhim. His individuality had been capsuled into a series of questions andanswers. One thing he drew the line at—why he wanted to go to Tunney21 was his own business.     The first counselor reappeared. Age, indeterminate. Not, he supposed,that anyone would be curious about it. Slightly taller than average,rather on the slender side. Face was broad at the brow, narrow at thechin and her eyes were enigmatic. A dangerous woman.  <doc-sep>Jorj turned, smiling. And now, gentlemen, while we wait for Maizieto celebrate, there should be just enough time for us to watch thetakeoff of the Mars rocket. He switched on a giant television screen.The others made a quarter turn, and there before them glowed the richochres and blues of a New Mexico sunrise and, in the middle distance, asilvery mighty spindle.     Like the generals, the Secretary of Space suppressed a scowl. Herewas something that ought to be spang in the center of his officialterritory, and the Thinkers had locked him completely out of it. Thatrocket there—just an ordinary Earth satellite vehicle commandeeredfrom the Army, but equipped by the Thinkers with Maizie-designednuclear motors capable of the Mars journey and more. The firstspaceship—and the Secretary of Space was not in on it!     Still, he told himself, Maizie had decreed it that way. And whenhe remembered what the Thinkers had done for him in rescuing himfrom breakdown with their mental science, in rescuing the wholeAdministration from collapse he realized he had to be satisfied. Andthat was without taking into consideration the amazing additionalmental discoveries that the Thinkers were bringing down from Mars.     Lord, the President said to Jorj as if voicing the Secretary'sfeeling, I wish you people could bring a couple of those wise littledevils back with you this trip. Be a good thing for the country.     Jorj looked at him a bit coldly. It's quite unthinkable, he said.The telepathic abilities of the Martians make them extremelysensitive. The conflicts of ordinary Earth minds would impinge on thempsychotically, even fatally. As you know, the Thinkers were able tocontact them only because of our degree of learned mental poise anderrorless memory-chains. So for the present it must be our task aloneto glean from the Martians their astounding mental skills. Of course,some day in the future, when we have discovered how to armor the mindsof the Martians—     Sure, I know, the President said hastily. Shouldn't have mentionedit, Jorj.     Conversation ceased. They waited with growing tension for the greatviolet flames to bloom from the base of the silvery shaft.  <doc-sep>His entire body trembled. His mind trembled too. He walked, and came toa waist-high metal railing, and made a tiny sound deep in his throat.He looked out over water, endless water rolling in endless waves underthe night sky. Crashing water, topped with reflected silver from themoon. Pounding water, filling the air with spray.     He put out his hands and grasped the railing. It was wet. He raiseddamp fingers to his mouth. Salt.     He stepped back, back, and turned and ran. He ran wildly, blindly,until he could run no more. Then he fell, feeling the sand beneath him,and shut his eyes and mind to everything.     Much later, he got up and went to the fence and climbed it. He camedown on the other side and looked around and saw Plum. He walked toher, mounted her, sat still. The thoughts, or dreams, or whatever theywere which had been torturing him these past few weeks began torturinghim again.     It was getting light. His head was splitting.     Davie. His son Davie. Fourteen years old. Going to high school intown....       Town!     He should've gone there in the first place! He would ride east,to the road, then head south, back toward home. That would bring himright down Main Street. Regulations or not, he'd talk to people, findout what was happening.     He kicked Plum's sides. The mare began to move. He kept kicking untilshe broke into a brisk canter. He held on with hands and legs.     Why hadn't he seen the Pangborns and Elvertons lately—a long timelately?       The ocean. He'd seen the ocean. Not a reservoir or lake made byflooding and by damming, but salt water and enormous. An ocean, wherethere could be no ocean. The Pangborns and Elvertons had been wherethat ocean was now. And after the Elvertons had come the Dobsons.And after them the new plastics plant. And after that the city ofCrossville. And after that....       He was passing his own farm. He hadn't come through town, and yet herehe was at his own farm. Could he have forgotten where town was? Couldit be north of his home, not south? Could a man get so confused as toforget things he'd known all his life?     He reached the Shanks' place, and passed it at a trot. Then he wasbeyond their boundaries and breaking regulations again. He stayed onthe road. He went by a small house and saw colored folks in the yard.There'd been no colored folks here. There'd been Eli Bergen and hisfamily and his mother, in a bigger, newer house. The colored folksheard Plum's hooves and looked up and stared. Then a man raised hisvoice. Mistah, you breakin' regulations! Mistah, the police gonnah getyou!  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What are the regulations enforced by the government in BREAKDOWN?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in The Girls From Fieu Dayol? [SEP] <s>A station wagon came up behind them, slowed, and matched its speedwith theirs. Someone's following us, Quidley said.     Probably Jilka.     Five minutes later the station wagon turned down a side street anddisappeared. She's no longer with us, Quidley said.     She's got to pick someone up. She'll meet us later.     At your folks'?     At the ship.     The city was thinning out around them now, and a few stars were visiblein the night sky. Quidley watched them thoughtfully for a while. Then:What ship? he said.     The one we're going to      Fieu Dayol     on.           Fieu Dayol?          Persei 17 to you. I said I was going to take you home to meet myfolks, didn't I?     In other words, you're kidnapping me.     She shook her head vehemently. I most certainly am not! Neitheraccording to interstellar law or your own. When you compromised me, youmade yourself liable in the eyes of both.     But why pick on me? There must be plenty of men on      Fieu Dayol     . Whydon't you marry one of them?     For two reasons: one, you're the particular man who compromisedme. Two, there are      not     plenty of men on      Fieu Dayol     . Our race isidentical to yours in everything except population-balance between thesexes. At periodic intervals the women on      Fieu Dayol     so greatlyoutnumber the men that those of us who are temperamentally andemotionally unfitted to become spinsters have to look for      wotnids     —ormates—on other worlds. It's quite legal and quite respectable. As amatter of fact, we even have schools specializing in alien culturesto expedite our activities. Our biggest problem is the Interstellarstatute forbidding us the use of local communications services andforbidding us to appear in public places. It was devised to facilitatethe prosecution of interstellar black marketeers, but we're subject toit, too, and have to contrive communications systems of our own.     But why were all the messages addressed to you?     They weren't messages. They were requisitions. I'm the ship's stockgirl.  <doc-sep>Her boy friend turned out to be her girl friend, and her girl friendturned out to be a tall and lissome, lovely with a Helenesque air ofher own. From the vantage point of a strategically located readingtable, where he was keeping company with his favorite little magazine,      The Zeitgeist     , Quidley watched her take a seemingly haphazard routeto the shelf where Taine's      History     reposed, take the volume down,surreptitiously slip a folded sheet of yellow paper between its pagesand return it to the shelf.     After she left he wasted no time in acquainting himself with the secondmessage. It was as unintelligible as the first:       asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj Cai: Habewotnid ig ist ending ifedererer te. T'lide sid Fieu Dayol po jestigtoseo knwo, bijk weil en snoll doper entling—Yoolna. asdf ;lkj asdf;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj       Well, perhaps not quite as unintelligible. He knew, at least, who Caiwas, and he knew—from the reappearance of the words      wotnid     ,      FieuDayol     and      snoll doper     —that the two communications were in thesame code. And certainly it was reasonable to assume that the lastword—      Yoolna     —was the name of the girl he had just seen, and thatshe was a different person from the      Klio     whose name had appended thefirst message.     He refolded the paper, replaced it between the pages, returned the bookto the shelf and went back to the reading table and      The Zeitgeist     .     Kay didn't show up till almost closing time, and he was beginningto think that perhaps she wouldn't come around for the pickup tilltomorrow when she finally walked in the door. She employed the sametactics she had employed the previous night, arriving, as though bychance, at the T-section and transferring the message with the sameundetectable legerdemain to her purse. This time, when she walked outthe door, he was not far behind her.     She climbed into a sleek convertible and pulled into the street. Ittook him but a moment to gain his hardtop and start out after her.When, several blocks later, she pulled to the curb in front of anall-night coffee bar, he followed suit. After that, it was merely amatter of following her inside.     He decided on Operation Spill-the-sugar. It had stood him in good steadbefore, and he was rather fond of it. The procedure was quite simple.First you took note of the position of the sugar dispensers, then yousituated yourself so that your intended victim was between you and thenearest one, then you ordered coffee without sugar in a low voice, andafter the counterman or countergirl had served you, you waited tillhe/she was out of earshot and asked your i.v. to please pass the sugar.When she did so you let the dispenser slip from your fingers in such away that some of its contents spilled on her lap—     I'm terribly sorry, he said, righting it. Here, let me brush it off.  <doc-sep>   The Girls From Fieu Dayol     By ROBERT F. YOUNG     They were lovely and quick     to learn—and their only     faults were little ones!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Up until the moment when he first looked into Hippolyte Adolphe Taine's      History of English Literature     , Herbert Quidley's penchant for oldbooks had netted him nothing in the way of romance and intrigue.Not that he was a stranger to either. Far from it. But hitherto thebackground for both had been bedrooms and bars, not libraries.     On page 21 of the Taine tome he happened upon a sheet of yellow copypaper folded in four. Unfolding it, he read:       asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkjCai: Sities towms copeis wotnid. Gind snoll doper nckli! Wilbe FieuDayol fot ig habe mot toseo knwo—te bijk weil en snoll doper—Klio,asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj       Since when, Quidley wondered, refolding the paper and putting it backin the book, had high-school typing students taken to reading Taine?Thoughtfully he replaced the book on the shelf and moved deeper intothe literature section.     He had just taken down Xenophon's      Anabasis     when he saw the girl walkin the door.     Let it be said forthwith that old books were not the only item onHerbert Quidley's penchant-list. He liked old wood, too, and oldpaintings, not to mention old wine and old whiskey. But most of all heliked young girls. He especially liked them when they looked the wayHelen of Troy must have looked when Paris took one gander at her andstarted building his ladder. This one was tall, with hyacinth hair andliquid blue eyes, and she had a Grecian symmetry of shape that wouldhave made Paris' eyes pop had he been around to take notice. Pariswasn't, but Quidley's eyes, did the job.     After coming in the door, the girl deposited a book on the librarian'sdesk and headed for the literature section. Quickly Quidley loweredhis eyes to the      Anabasis     and henceforth followed her progress out oftheir corners. When she came to the O's she paused, took down a bookand glanced through it. Then she replaced it and moved on to theP's ... the Q's ... the R's. Barely three feet from him she pausedagain and took down Taine's      History of English Literature     .     He simply could not believe it. The odds against two persons taking aninterest in so esoteric a volume on a single night in a single librarywere ten thousand to one. And yet there was no gainsaying that thevolume was in the girl's hands, and that she was riffling through itwith the air of a seasoned browser.     Presently she returned the book to the shelf, selectedanother—seemingly at random—and took it over to the librarian's desk.She waited statuesquely while the librarian processed it, then tuckedit under her arm and whisked out the door into the misty April night.As soon as she disappeared, Quidley stepped over to the T's and tookTaine down once more. Just as he had suspected. The makeshift bookmarkwas gone.     He remembered how the asdf-;lkj exercise had given way to several linesof gibberish and then reappeared again. A camouflaged message? Or wasit merely what it appeared to be on the surface—the efforts of animpatient typing student to type before his time?     He returned Taine to the shelf. After learning from the librarian thatthe girl's name was Kay Smith, he went out and got in his hardtop. Thename rang a bell. Halfway home he realized why. The typing exercise hadcontained the word Cai, and if you pronounced it with hard c, you gotKai—or Kay. Obviously, then, the exercise had been a message, andhad been deliberately inserted in a book no average person would dreamof borrowing.     By whom—her boy friend?     Quidley winced. He was allergic to the term. Not that he ever let thepresence of a boy friend deter him when he set out to conquer, butbecause the term itself brought to mind the word fiance, and the wordfiance brought to mind still another word, one which repelled himviolently. I.e., marriage. Just the same, he decided to keep Taine's      History     under observation for a while.  <doc-sep>The following evening found Quidley on tenter-hooks. The      snoll-doper     mystery had acquired a new tang. He could hardly wait till the nextmessage transfer took place.     He decided to spend the evening plotting the epic novel which heintended to write someday. He set to work immediately. He plottedmentally, of course—notes were for the hacks and the other commercialnon-geniuses who infested the modern literary world. Closing his eyes,he saw the whole vivid panorama of epic action and grand adventureflowing like a mighty and majestic river before his literary vision:the authentic and awe-inspiring background; the hordes of colorfulcharacters; the handsome virile hero, the compelling Helenesqueheroine.... God, it was going to be great! The best thing he'd everdone! See, already there was a crowd of book lovers in front of thebookstore, staring into the window where the new Herbert Quidley wason display, trying to force its way into the jammed interior....      Cutto interior.     FIRST EAGER CUSTOMER: Tell me quickly, are there anymore copies of the new Herbert Quidley left? BOOK CLERK: A few. Youdon't know how lucky you are to get here before the first printing ranout. FIRST EAGER CUSTOMER: Give me a dozen. I want to make sure thatmy children and my children's children have a plentiful supply. BOOKCLERK: Sorry. Only one to a customer. Next? SECOND EAGER CUSTOMER: Tellme quickly, are ... there ... any ... more ... copies ... of—     ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ....     Message no. 4, except for a slight variation in camouflage, ran true toform:       a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj Cai: Habe te snoll dopers ensing?Wotnid ne Fieu Dayol ist ifederereret, hid jestig snoll doper. Ginded, olro—Jilka. a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj       Quidley sighed. What, he asked himself, standing in the library aisleand staring at the indecipherable words, was a normal girl like Kaydoing in such a childish secret society? From the way she and hercorrespondents carried on you'd almost think they were Martian girlscouts on an interplanetary camping trip, trying for their merit badgesin communications!     You could hardly call Kay a girl scout, though.     Nevertheless, she was the key figure in the      snoll-doper     enigma. Thefact annoyed him, especially when he considered that a      snoll doper     ,for all he knew, could be anything from a Chinese fortune cooky to anH-bomb.     He remembered Kay's odd accent. Was that the way a person would speakEnglish if her own language ran something like       ist ifedereret, hidjestig snoll doper adwo     ?     He remembered the way she had looked at him in the coffee bar.     He remembered the material of her dress.     He remembered how she had come to his room.     I didn't know you had a taste for Taine.  <doc-sep>In telling him that she would be in town two nights hence, Kay hadunwittingly apprised him that there would be no exchange of messagesuntil that time, so the next evening he skipped his vigil at thelibrary. The following evening, however, after readying his apartmentfor the forthcoming assignation, he hied himself to his reading-tablepost and took up      The Zeitgeist     once again.     He had not thought it possible that there could be a third such woman.     And yet there she was, walking in the door, tall and blue-eyed andgraceful; dark of hair and noble of mien; browsing in the philosophysection now, now the fiction section, now moving leisurely into theliterature aisle and toward the T's....     The camouflage had varied, but the message was typical enough:       fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; Cai: Ginden snoll doper nckli! Wotnid antwaterer Fieu Dayol hid jestig snolldoper ifedererer te. Dep gogensplo snoll dopers ensing!—Gorka. fdsajkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl;       Judging from the repeated use of the words,      snoll dopers     were thetopic of the day. Annoyed, Quidley replaced the message and put thebook back on the shelf. Then he returned to his apartment to await Kay.     He wondered what her reaction would be if he asked her point-blank whata      snoll doper     was; whether she would reveal the nature of the amateursecret society to which she and Klio and Yoolna and Gorka belonged.It virtually had to be an amateur secret society. Unless, of course,they were foreigners. But what on earth foreign organization would bequixotic enough to employ Taine's      History of English Literature     as acommunications medium when there was a telephone in every drugstore anda mailbox on every corner?     Somehow the words what on earth foreign organization got turnedaround in his mind and became what foreign organization on earth andbefore he could summon his common sense to succor him, he experienceda rather bad moment. By the time the door chimes sounded he was hisnormal self again.     He straightened his tie with nervous fingers, checked to see if hisshirt cuffs protruded the proper length from his coat sleeves, andlooked around the room to see if everything was in place. Everythingwas—the typewriter uncovered and centered on the chrome-trimmed desk,with the sheaf of crinkly first-sheets beside it; the reference booksstacked imposingly nearby;      Harper's     ,      The Atlantic     and      The SaturdayReview     showing conspicuously in the magazine rack; the newly openedbottle of bourbon and the two snifter glasses on the sideboard; thesmall table set cozily for two—  <doc-sep>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>As if to provide an example, a figure suddenly materialized ontheir side of the bubble. The wolflike dogs bared their fangs. Foran instant, there was only an eerie, distorted, rapidly growingsilhouette, changing from blood-red to black as the boundary of thebubble cross-sectioned the intruding figure. Then they recognized theback of another long-haired warrior and realized that the audience onthe other side of the bubble had probably seen him approaching for sometime.     He bowed to the hooded figure and handed him a small bag.     More atavistic cubs, big and little! Hold still, Cynthia, a new voicecut in.     Hal turned and saw that two cold-eyed girls had been ushered into thecubicle. One was wiping her close-cropped hair with one hand whilemopping a green stain from her friend's back with the other.     Hal nudged Joggy and whispered: Butch!     But Joggy was still hypnotized by the Time Bubble.     Then how is it, Hal, he asked, that light comes out of the bubble,if the people don't? What I mean is, if one of the people walks towardus, he shrinks to a red blot and disappears. Why doesn't the lightcoming our way disappear, too?     Well—you see, Joggy, it isn't real light. It's—     Once more the interpreter helped him out.     The light that comes from the bubble is an isotope. Like atoms ofone element, photons of a single frequency also have isotopes. It'smore than a matter of polarization. One of these isotopes of lighttends to leak futureward through holes in space-time. Most of thelight goes down the vistas visible to the other side of the audience.But one isotope is diverted through the walls of the bubble into theTime Theater. Perhaps, because of the intense darkness of the theater,you haven't realized how dimly lit the scene is. That's because we'regetting only a single isotope of the original light. Incidentally, noisotopes have been discovered that leak pastward, though attempts arebeing made to synthesize them.     Oh, explanations! murmured one of the newly arrived girls. The cubsare always angling for them. Apple-polishers!           I     like this show, a familiar voice announced serenely. They cutanybody yet with those choppers?     Hal looked down beside him. Butch! How did you manage to get in?     I don't see any blood. Where's the bodies?     But how      did     you get in—Butcher?  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in The Girls From Fieu Dayol?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What are the defining traits of Kay Smith, and who is she in relation to The Girls From Fieu Dayol? [SEP] <s>   The Girls From Fieu Dayol     By ROBERT F. YOUNG     They were lovely and quick     to learn—and their only     faults were little ones!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Up until the moment when he first looked into Hippolyte Adolphe Taine's      History of English Literature     , Herbert Quidley's penchant for oldbooks had netted him nothing in the way of romance and intrigue.Not that he was a stranger to either. Far from it. But hitherto thebackground for both had been bedrooms and bars, not libraries.     On page 21 of the Taine tome he happened upon a sheet of yellow copypaper folded in four. Unfolding it, he read:       asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkjCai: Sities towms copeis wotnid. Gind snoll doper nckli! Wilbe FieuDayol fot ig habe mot toseo knwo—te bijk weil en snoll doper—Klio,asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj       Since when, Quidley wondered, refolding the paper and putting it backin the book, had high-school typing students taken to reading Taine?Thoughtfully he replaced the book on the shelf and moved deeper intothe literature section.     He had just taken down Xenophon's      Anabasis     when he saw the girl walkin the door.     Let it be said forthwith that old books were not the only item onHerbert Quidley's penchant-list. He liked old wood, too, and oldpaintings, not to mention old wine and old whiskey. But most of all heliked young girls. He especially liked them when they looked the wayHelen of Troy must have looked when Paris took one gander at her andstarted building his ladder. This one was tall, with hyacinth hair andliquid blue eyes, and she had a Grecian symmetry of shape that wouldhave made Paris' eyes pop had he been around to take notice. Pariswasn't, but Quidley's eyes, did the job.     After coming in the door, the girl deposited a book on the librarian'sdesk and headed for the literature section. Quickly Quidley loweredhis eyes to the      Anabasis     and henceforth followed her progress out oftheir corners. When she came to the O's she paused, took down a bookand glanced through it. Then she replaced it and moved on to theP's ... the Q's ... the R's. Barely three feet from him she pausedagain and took down Taine's      History of English Literature     .     He simply could not believe it. The odds against two persons taking aninterest in so esoteric a volume on a single night in a single librarywere ten thousand to one. And yet there was no gainsaying that thevolume was in the girl's hands, and that she was riffling through itwith the air of a seasoned browser.     Presently she returned the book to the shelf, selectedanother—seemingly at random—and took it over to the librarian's desk.She waited statuesquely while the librarian processed it, then tuckedit under her arm and whisked out the door into the misty April night.As soon as she disappeared, Quidley stepped over to the T's and tookTaine down once more. Just as he had suspected. The makeshift bookmarkwas gone.     He remembered how the asdf-;lkj exercise had given way to several linesof gibberish and then reappeared again. A camouflaged message? Or wasit merely what it appeared to be on the surface—the efforts of animpatient typing student to type before his time?     He returned Taine to the shelf. After learning from the librarian thatthe girl's name was Kay Smith, he went out and got in his hardtop. Thename rang a bell. Halfway home he realized why. The typing exercise hadcontained the word Cai, and if you pronounced it with hard c, you gotKai—or Kay. Obviously, then, the exercise had been a message, andhad been deliberately inserted in a book no average person would dreamof borrowing.     By whom—her boy friend?     Quidley winced. He was allergic to the term. Not that he ever let thepresence of a boy friend deter him when he set out to conquer, butbecause the term itself brought to mind the word fiance, and the wordfiance brought to mind still another word, one which repelled himviolently. I.e., marriage. Just the same, he decided to keep Taine's      History     under observation for a while.  <doc-sep>A station wagon came up behind them, slowed, and matched its speedwith theirs. Someone's following us, Quidley said.     Probably Jilka.     Five minutes later the station wagon turned down a side street anddisappeared. She's no longer with us, Quidley said.     She's got to pick someone up. She'll meet us later.     At your folks'?     At the ship.     The city was thinning out around them now, and a few stars were visiblein the night sky. Quidley watched them thoughtfully for a while. Then:What ship? he said.     The one we're going to      Fieu Dayol     on.           Fieu Dayol?          Persei 17 to you. I said I was going to take you home to meet myfolks, didn't I?     In other words, you're kidnapping me.     She shook her head vehemently. I most certainly am not! Neitheraccording to interstellar law or your own. When you compromised me, youmade yourself liable in the eyes of both.     But why pick on me? There must be plenty of men on      Fieu Dayol     . Whydon't you marry one of them?     For two reasons: one, you're the particular man who compromisedme. Two, there are      not     plenty of men on      Fieu Dayol     . Our race isidentical to yours in everything except population-balance between thesexes. At periodic intervals the women on      Fieu Dayol     so greatlyoutnumber the men that those of us who are temperamentally andemotionally unfitted to become spinsters have to look for      wotnids     —ormates—on other worlds. It's quite legal and quite respectable. As amatter of fact, we even have schools specializing in alien culturesto expedite our activities. Our biggest problem is the Interstellarstatute forbidding us the use of local communications services andforbidding us to appear in public places. It was devised to facilitatethe prosecution of interstellar black marketeers, but we're subject toit, too, and have to contrive communications systems of our own.     But why were all the messages addressed to you?     They weren't messages. They were requisitions. I'm the ship's stockgirl.  <doc-sep>Her boy friend turned out to be her girl friend, and her girl friendturned out to be a tall and lissome, lovely with a Helenesque air ofher own. From the vantage point of a strategically located readingtable, where he was keeping company with his favorite little magazine,      The Zeitgeist     , Quidley watched her take a seemingly haphazard routeto the shelf where Taine's      History     reposed, take the volume down,surreptitiously slip a folded sheet of yellow paper between its pagesand return it to the shelf.     After she left he wasted no time in acquainting himself with the secondmessage. It was as unintelligible as the first:       asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj Cai: Habewotnid ig ist ending ifedererer te. T'lide sid Fieu Dayol po jestigtoseo knwo, bijk weil en snoll doper entling—Yoolna. asdf ;lkj asdf;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj       Well, perhaps not quite as unintelligible. He knew, at least, who Caiwas, and he knew—from the reappearance of the words      wotnid     ,      FieuDayol     and      snoll doper     —that the two communications were in thesame code. And certainly it was reasonable to assume that the lastword—      Yoolna     —was the name of the girl he had just seen, and thatshe was a different person from the      Klio     whose name had appended thefirst message.     He refolded the paper, replaced it between the pages, returned the bookto the shelf and went back to the reading table and      The Zeitgeist     .     Kay didn't show up till almost closing time, and he was beginningto think that perhaps she wouldn't come around for the pickup tilltomorrow when she finally walked in the door. She employed the sametactics she had employed the previous night, arriving, as though bychance, at the T-section and transferring the message with the sameundetectable legerdemain to her purse. This time, when she walked outthe door, he was not far behind her.     She climbed into a sleek convertible and pulled into the street. Ittook him but a moment to gain his hardtop and start out after her.When, several blocks later, she pulled to the curb in front of anall-night coffee bar, he followed suit. After that, it was merely amatter of following her inside.     He decided on Operation Spill-the-sugar. It had stood him in good steadbefore, and he was rather fond of it. The procedure was quite simple.First you took note of the position of the sugar dispensers, then yousituated yourself so that your intended victim was between you and thenearest one, then you ordered coffee without sugar in a low voice, andafter the counterman or countergirl had served you, you waited tillhe/she was out of earshot and asked your i.v. to please pass the sugar.When she did so you let the dispenser slip from your fingers in such away that some of its contents spilled on her lap—     I'm terribly sorry, he said, righting it. Here, let me brush it off.  <doc-sep>The following evening found Quidley on tenter-hooks. The      snoll-doper     mystery had acquired a new tang. He could hardly wait till the nextmessage transfer took place.     He decided to spend the evening plotting the epic novel which heintended to write someday. He set to work immediately. He plottedmentally, of course—notes were for the hacks and the other commercialnon-geniuses who infested the modern literary world. Closing his eyes,he saw the whole vivid panorama of epic action and grand adventureflowing like a mighty and majestic river before his literary vision:the authentic and awe-inspiring background; the hordes of colorfulcharacters; the handsome virile hero, the compelling Helenesqueheroine.... God, it was going to be great! The best thing he'd everdone! See, already there was a crowd of book lovers in front of thebookstore, staring into the window where the new Herbert Quidley wason display, trying to force its way into the jammed interior....      Cutto interior.     FIRST EAGER CUSTOMER: Tell me quickly, are there anymore copies of the new Herbert Quidley left? BOOK CLERK: A few. Youdon't know how lucky you are to get here before the first printing ranout. FIRST EAGER CUSTOMER: Give me a dozen. I want to make sure thatmy children and my children's children have a plentiful supply. BOOKCLERK: Sorry. Only one to a customer. Next? SECOND EAGER CUSTOMER: Tellme quickly, are ... there ... any ... more ... copies ... of—     ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ....     Message no. 4, except for a slight variation in camouflage, ran true toform:       a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj Cai: Habe te snoll dopers ensing?Wotnid ne Fieu Dayol ist ifederereret, hid jestig snoll doper. Ginded, olro—Jilka. a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj       Quidley sighed. What, he asked himself, standing in the library aisleand staring at the indecipherable words, was a normal girl like Kaydoing in such a childish secret society? From the way she and hercorrespondents carried on you'd almost think they were Martian girlscouts on an interplanetary camping trip, trying for their merit badgesin communications!     You could hardly call Kay a girl scout, though.     Nevertheless, she was the key figure in the      snoll-doper     enigma. Thefact annoyed him, especially when he considered that a      snoll doper     ,for all he knew, could be anything from a Chinese fortune cooky to anH-bomb.     He remembered Kay's odd accent. Was that the way a person would speakEnglish if her own language ran something like       ist ifedereret, hidjestig snoll doper adwo     ?     He remembered the way she had looked at him in the coffee bar.     He remembered the material of her dress.     He remembered how she had come to his room.     I didn't know you had a taste for Taine.  <doc-sep>In telling him that she would be in town two nights hence, Kay hadunwittingly apprised him that there would be no exchange of messagesuntil that time, so the next evening he skipped his vigil at thelibrary. The following evening, however, after readying his apartmentfor the forthcoming assignation, he hied himself to his reading-tablepost and took up      The Zeitgeist     once again.     He had not thought it possible that there could be a third such woman.     And yet there she was, walking in the door, tall and blue-eyed andgraceful; dark of hair and noble of mien; browsing in the philosophysection now, now the fiction section, now moving leisurely into theliterature aisle and toward the T's....     The camouflage had varied, but the message was typical enough:       fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; Cai: Ginden snoll doper nckli! Wotnid antwaterer Fieu Dayol hid jestig snolldoper ifedererer te. Dep gogensplo snoll dopers ensing!—Gorka. fdsajkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl;       Judging from the repeated use of the words,      snoll dopers     were thetopic of the day. Annoyed, Quidley replaced the message and put thebook back on the shelf. Then he returned to his apartment to await Kay.     He wondered what her reaction would be if he asked her point-blank whata      snoll doper     was; whether she would reveal the nature of the amateursecret society to which she and Klio and Yoolna and Gorka belonged.It virtually had to be an amateur secret society. Unless, of course,they were foreigners. But what on earth foreign organization would bequixotic enough to employ Taine's      History of English Literature     as acommunications medium when there was a telephone in every drugstore anda mailbox on every corner?     Somehow the words what on earth foreign organization got turnedaround in his mind and became what foreign organization on earth andbefore he could summon his common sense to succor him, he experienceda rather bad moment. By the time the door chimes sounded he was hisnormal self again.     He straightened his tie with nervous fingers, checked to see if hisshirt cuffs protruded the proper length from his coat sleeves, andlooked around the room to see if everything was in place. Everythingwas—the typewriter uncovered and centered on the chrome-trimmed desk,with the sheaf of crinkly first-sheets beside it; the reference booksstacked imposingly nearby;      Harper's     ,      The Atlantic     and      The SaturdayReview     showing conspicuously in the magazine rack; the newly openedbottle of bourbon and the two snifter glasses on the sideboard; thesmall table set cozily for two—  <doc-sep>The chimes sounded again. He opened the door.     She walked in with a demure, Hello. He took her wrap. When he sawwhat she was wearing he had to tilt his head back so that his eyeswouldn't fall out of their sockets.     Skin, mostly, in the upper regions. White, glowing skin on which herlong hair lay like forest pools. As for her dress, it was as thoughshe had fallen forward into immaculate snow, half-burying her breastsbefore catching herself on her elbows, then turning into a sittingposition, the snow clinging to her skin in a glistening veneer;arising finally to her feet, resplendently attired.     He went over to the sideboard, picked up the bottle of bourbon. Shefollowed. He set the two snifter glasses side by side and tilted thebottle. Say when. When! I admire your dress—never saw anythingquite like it. Thank you. The material is something new. Feel it.It's—it's almost like foam rubber. Cigarette? Thanks.... Issomething wrong, Mr. Quidley? No, of course not. Why? Your handsare trembling. Oh. I'm—I'm afraid it's the present company, MissSmith. Call me Kay.     They touched glasses: Your liquor is as exquisite as your living room,Herbert. I shall have to come here more often. I hope you will, Kay.Though such conduct, I'm told, is morally reprehensible on the planetEarth. Not in this particular circle. Your hair is lovely. Thankyou.... You haven't mentioned my perfume yet. Perhaps I'm standing toofar away.... There! It's—it's as lovely as your hair, Kay. Um,kiss me again. I—I never figured—I mean, I engaged a caterer toserve us dinner at 9:30. Call him up. Make it 10:30.  <doc-sep>It's all right, it's only sugar, she said, laughing.     I'm hopelessly clumsy, he continued smoothly, brushing the gleamingcrystals from her pleated skirt, noting the clean sweep of her thighs.I beseech you to forgive me.     You're forgiven, she said, and he noticed then that she spoke with aslight accent.     If you like, you can send it to the cleaners and have them send thebill to me. My address is 61 Park Place. He pulled out his wallet,chose an appropriate card, and handed it to her—     Herbert Quidley:      Profiliste       Her forehead crinkled.       Profiliste?          I paint profiles with words, he said. You may have run across someof my pieces in the Better Magazines. I employ a variety of pseudonyms,of course.     How interesting. She pronounced it anteresting.     Not famous profiles, you understand. Just profiles that strike myfancy. He paused. She had raised her cup to her lips and was taking adainty sip. You have a rather striking profile yourself, Miss—     Smith. Kay Smith. She set the cup back on the counter and turned andfaced him. For a second her eyes seemed to expand till they preoccupiedhis entire vision, till he could see nothing but their disturbinglyclear—and suddenly cold—blueness. Panic touched him, then vanishedwhen she said, Would you really consider word-painting      my     profile,Mr. Quidley?       Would     he! When can I call?     She hesitated for a moment. Then: I think it will be better if I callon you. There are quite a number of people living in our—our house.I'm afraid the quarters would be much too cramped for an artist likeyourself to concentrate.     Quidley glowed. Usually it required two or three days, and sometimes aweek, to reach the apartment phase. Fine, he said. When can I expectyou?     She stood up and he got to his feet beside her. She was even tallerthan he had thought. In fact, if he hadn't been wearing Cuban heels,she'd have been taller than he was. I'll be in town night after next,she said. Will nine o'clock be convenient for you?     Perfectly.     Good-by for now then, Mr. Quidley.     He was so elated that when he arrived at his apartment he actuallydid try to write a profile. His own, of course. He sat down at hiscustom-built chrome-trimmed desk, inserted a blank sheet of paper inhis custom-built typewriter and tried to arrange his thoughts. But asusual his mind raced ahead of the moment, and he saw the title,      SelfProfile     , nestling noticeably on the contents page of one of the BetterMagazines, and presently he saw the piece itself in all its splendidarray of colorful rhetoric, sparkling imagery and scintillating wit,occupying a two-page spread.     It was some time before he returned to reality, and when he did thefirst thing that met his eyes was the uncompromisingly blank sheet ofpaper. Hurriedly he typed out a letter to his father, requesting anadvance on his allowance, then, after a tall glass of vintage wine, hewent to bed.  <doc-sep>For more than a century, robotocists have been trying to build Asimov'sfamous Three Laws of Robotics into a robot brain.       First Law: A robot shall not, either through action or inaction, allowharm to come to a human being.         Second Law: A robot shall obey the orders of a human being, exceptwhen such orders conflict with the First Law     .     [15]       Third Law: A robot shall strive to protect its own existence, exceptwhen this conflicts with the First or Second Law.       Nobody has succeeded yet, because nobody has yet succeeded in definingthe term human being in such a way that the logical mind of a robotcan encompass the concept.     A traffic robot is useful only because the definition has been rigidlynarrowed down. As far as a traffic robot is concerned, human beingsare the automobiles on its highways. Woe betide any poor sap who tries,illegally, to cross a robot-controlled highway on foot. The robot'sonly concern would be with the safety of the automobiles, and if theonly way to avoid destruction of an automobile were to be by nudgingthe pedestrian aside with a fender, that's what would happen.     And, since its orders only come from one place, I suppose that atraffic robot thinks that the guy who uses that typer is an automobile.     With the first six models of the McGuire ships, the robotocistsattempted to build in the Three Laws exactly as stated. And the firstsix went insane.     If one human being says jump left, and another says jump right,the robot is unable to evaluate which human being has given the morevalid order. Feed enough confusing and conflicting data into a robotbrain, and it can begin behaving in ways that, in a human being, wouldbe called paranoia or schizophrenia or catatonia or what-have-you,depending  [16]  on the symptoms. And an insane robot is fully as dangerousas an insane human being controlling the same mechanical equipment, ifnot more so.     So the seventh model had been modified. The present McGuire's brain wasimpressed with slight modifications of the First and Second Laws.     If it is difficult to define a human being, it is much more difficultto define a      responsible     human being. One, in other words, who canbe relied upon to give wise and proper orders to a robot, who can berelied upon not to drive the robot insane.     The robotocists at Viking Spacecraft had decided to take anothertack. Very well, they'd said, if we can't define all the membersof a group, we can certainly define an individual. We'll pick oneresponsible person and build McGuire so that he will take orders onlyfrom that person.     As it turned out, I was that person. Just substitute Daniel Oakfor human being in the First and Second Laws, and you'll see howimportant I was to a certain spaceship named McGuire.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What are the defining traits of Kay Smith, and who is she in relation to The Girls From Fieu Dayol?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What are the defining traits of Herbert Quidley, and can you tell me more about him? [SEP] <s>The following evening found Quidley on tenter-hooks. The      snoll-doper     mystery had acquired a new tang. He could hardly wait till the nextmessage transfer took place.     He decided to spend the evening plotting the epic novel which heintended to write someday. He set to work immediately. He plottedmentally, of course—notes were for the hacks and the other commercialnon-geniuses who infested the modern literary world. Closing his eyes,he saw the whole vivid panorama of epic action and grand adventureflowing like a mighty and majestic river before his literary vision:the authentic and awe-inspiring background; the hordes of colorfulcharacters; the handsome virile hero, the compelling Helenesqueheroine.... God, it was going to be great! The best thing he'd everdone! See, already there was a crowd of book lovers in front of thebookstore, staring into the window where the new Herbert Quidley wason display, trying to force its way into the jammed interior....      Cutto interior.     FIRST EAGER CUSTOMER: Tell me quickly, are there anymore copies of the new Herbert Quidley left? BOOK CLERK: A few. Youdon't know how lucky you are to get here before the first printing ranout. FIRST EAGER CUSTOMER: Give me a dozen. I want to make sure thatmy children and my children's children have a plentiful supply. BOOKCLERK: Sorry. Only one to a customer. Next? SECOND EAGER CUSTOMER: Tellme quickly, are ... there ... any ... more ... copies ... of—     ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ....     Message no. 4, except for a slight variation in camouflage, ran true toform:       a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj Cai: Habe te snoll dopers ensing?Wotnid ne Fieu Dayol ist ifederereret, hid jestig snoll doper. Ginded, olro—Jilka. a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj       Quidley sighed. What, he asked himself, standing in the library aisleand staring at the indecipherable words, was a normal girl like Kaydoing in such a childish secret society? From the way she and hercorrespondents carried on you'd almost think they were Martian girlscouts on an interplanetary camping trip, trying for their merit badgesin communications!     You could hardly call Kay a girl scout, though.     Nevertheless, she was the key figure in the      snoll-doper     enigma. Thefact annoyed him, especially when he considered that a      snoll doper     ,for all he knew, could be anything from a Chinese fortune cooky to anH-bomb.     He remembered Kay's odd accent. Was that the way a person would speakEnglish if her own language ran something like       ist ifedereret, hidjestig snoll doper adwo     ?     He remembered the way she had looked at him in the coffee bar.     He remembered the material of her dress.     He remembered how she had come to his room.     I didn't know you had a taste for Taine.  <doc-sep>   The Girls From Fieu Dayol     By ROBERT F. YOUNG     They were lovely and quick     to learn—and their only     faults were little ones!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Up until the moment when he first looked into Hippolyte Adolphe Taine's      History of English Literature     , Herbert Quidley's penchant for oldbooks had netted him nothing in the way of romance and intrigue.Not that he was a stranger to either. Far from it. But hitherto thebackground for both had been bedrooms and bars, not libraries.     On page 21 of the Taine tome he happened upon a sheet of yellow copypaper folded in four. Unfolding it, he read:       asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkjCai: Sities towms copeis wotnid. Gind snoll doper nckli! Wilbe FieuDayol fot ig habe mot toseo knwo—te bijk weil en snoll doper—Klio,asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj       Since when, Quidley wondered, refolding the paper and putting it backin the book, had high-school typing students taken to reading Taine?Thoughtfully he replaced the book on the shelf and moved deeper intothe literature section.     He had just taken down Xenophon's      Anabasis     when he saw the girl walkin the door.     Let it be said forthwith that old books were not the only item onHerbert Quidley's penchant-list. He liked old wood, too, and oldpaintings, not to mention old wine and old whiskey. But most of all heliked young girls. He especially liked them when they looked the wayHelen of Troy must have looked when Paris took one gander at her andstarted building his ladder. This one was tall, with hyacinth hair andliquid blue eyes, and she had a Grecian symmetry of shape that wouldhave made Paris' eyes pop had he been around to take notice. Pariswasn't, but Quidley's eyes, did the job.     After coming in the door, the girl deposited a book on the librarian'sdesk and headed for the literature section. Quickly Quidley loweredhis eyes to the      Anabasis     and henceforth followed her progress out oftheir corners. When she came to the O's she paused, took down a bookand glanced through it. Then she replaced it and moved on to theP's ... the Q's ... the R's. Barely three feet from him she pausedagain and took down Taine's      History of English Literature     .     He simply could not believe it. The odds against two persons taking aninterest in so esoteric a volume on a single night in a single librarywere ten thousand to one. And yet there was no gainsaying that thevolume was in the girl's hands, and that she was riffling through itwith the air of a seasoned browser.     Presently she returned the book to the shelf, selectedanother—seemingly at random—and took it over to the librarian's desk.She waited statuesquely while the librarian processed it, then tuckedit under her arm and whisked out the door into the misty April night.As soon as she disappeared, Quidley stepped over to the T's and tookTaine down once more. Just as he had suspected. The makeshift bookmarkwas gone.     He remembered how the asdf-;lkj exercise had given way to several linesof gibberish and then reappeared again. A camouflaged message? Or wasit merely what it appeared to be on the surface—the efforts of animpatient typing student to type before his time?     He returned Taine to the shelf. After learning from the librarian thatthe girl's name was Kay Smith, he went out and got in his hardtop. Thename rang a bell. Halfway home he realized why. The typing exercise hadcontained the word Cai, and if you pronounced it with hard c, you gotKai—or Kay. Obviously, then, the exercise had been a message, andhad been deliberately inserted in a book no average person would dreamof borrowing.     By whom—her boy friend?     Quidley winced. He was allergic to the term. Not that he ever let thepresence of a boy friend deter him when he set out to conquer, butbecause the term itself brought to mind the word fiance, and the wordfiance brought to mind still another word, one which repelled himviolently. I.e., marriage. Just the same, he decided to keep Taine's      History     under observation for a while.  <doc-sep>It's all right, it's only sugar, she said, laughing.     I'm hopelessly clumsy, he continued smoothly, brushing the gleamingcrystals from her pleated skirt, noting the clean sweep of her thighs.I beseech you to forgive me.     You're forgiven, she said, and he noticed then that she spoke with aslight accent.     If you like, you can send it to the cleaners and have them send thebill to me. My address is 61 Park Place. He pulled out his wallet,chose an appropriate card, and handed it to her—     Herbert Quidley:      Profiliste       Her forehead crinkled.       Profiliste?          I paint profiles with words, he said. You may have run across someof my pieces in the Better Magazines. I employ a variety of pseudonyms,of course.     How interesting. She pronounced it anteresting.     Not famous profiles, you understand. Just profiles that strike myfancy. He paused. She had raised her cup to her lips and was taking adainty sip. You have a rather striking profile yourself, Miss—     Smith. Kay Smith. She set the cup back on the counter and turned andfaced him. For a second her eyes seemed to expand till they preoccupiedhis entire vision, till he could see nothing but their disturbinglyclear—and suddenly cold—blueness. Panic touched him, then vanishedwhen she said, Would you really consider word-painting      my     profile,Mr. Quidley?       Would     he! When can I call?     She hesitated for a moment. Then: I think it will be better if I callon you. There are quite a number of people living in our—our house.I'm afraid the quarters would be much too cramped for an artist likeyourself to concentrate.     Quidley glowed. Usually it required two or three days, and sometimes aweek, to reach the apartment phase. Fine, he said. When can I expectyou?     She stood up and he got to his feet beside her. She was even tallerthan he had thought. In fact, if he hadn't been wearing Cuban heels,she'd have been taller than he was. I'll be in town night after next,she said. Will nine o'clock be convenient for you?     Perfectly.     Good-by for now then, Mr. Quidley.     He was so elated that when he arrived at his apartment he actuallydid try to write a profile. His own, of course. He sat down at hiscustom-built chrome-trimmed desk, inserted a blank sheet of paper inhis custom-built typewriter and tried to arrange his thoughts. But asusual his mind raced ahead of the moment, and he saw the title,      SelfProfile     , nestling noticeably on the contents page of one of the BetterMagazines, and presently he saw the piece itself in all its splendidarray of colorful rhetoric, sparkling imagery and scintillating wit,occupying a two-page spread.     It was some time before he returned to reality, and when he did thefirst thing that met his eyes was the uncompromisingly blank sheet ofpaper. Hurriedly he typed out a letter to his father, requesting anadvance on his allowance, then, after a tall glass of vintage wine, hewent to bed.  <doc-sep>The chimes sounded again. He opened the door.     She walked in with a demure, Hello. He took her wrap. When he sawwhat she was wearing he had to tilt his head back so that his eyeswouldn't fall out of their sockets.     Skin, mostly, in the upper regions. White, glowing skin on which herlong hair lay like forest pools. As for her dress, it was as thoughshe had fallen forward into immaculate snow, half-burying her breastsbefore catching herself on her elbows, then turning into a sittingposition, the snow clinging to her skin in a glistening veneer;arising finally to her feet, resplendently attired.     He went over to the sideboard, picked up the bottle of bourbon. Shefollowed. He set the two snifter glasses side by side and tilted thebottle. Say when. When! I admire your dress—never saw anythingquite like it. Thank you. The material is something new. Feel it.It's—it's almost like foam rubber. Cigarette? Thanks.... Issomething wrong, Mr. Quidley? No, of course not. Why? Your handsare trembling. Oh. I'm—I'm afraid it's the present company, MissSmith. Call me Kay.     They touched glasses: Your liquor is as exquisite as your living room,Herbert. I shall have to come here more often. I hope you will, Kay.Though such conduct, I'm told, is morally reprehensible on the planetEarth. Not in this particular circle. Your hair is lovely. Thankyou.... You haven't mentioned my perfume yet. Perhaps I'm standing toofar away.... There! It's—it's as lovely as your hair, Kay. Um,kiss me again. I—I never figured—I mean, I engaged a caterer toserve us dinner at 9:30. Call him up. Make it 10:30.  <doc-sep>For more than a century, robotocists have been trying to build Asimov'sfamous Three Laws of Robotics into a robot brain.       First Law: A robot shall not, either through action or inaction, allowharm to come to a human being.         Second Law: A robot shall obey the orders of a human being, exceptwhen such orders conflict with the First Law     .     [15]       Third Law: A robot shall strive to protect its own existence, exceptwhen this conflicts with the First or Second Law.       Nobody has succeeded yet, because nobody has yet succeeded in definingthe term human being in such a way that the logical mind of a robotcan encompass the concept.     A traffic robot is useful only because the definition has been rigidlynarrowed down. As far as a traffic robot is concerned, human beingsare the automobiles on its highways. Woe betide any poor sap who tries,illegally, to cross a robot-controlled highway on foot. The robot'sonly concern would be with the safety of the automobiles, and if theonly way to avoid destruction of an automobile were to be by nudgingthe pedestrian aside with a fender, that's what would happen.     And, since its orders only come from one place, I suppose that atraffic robot thinks that the guy who uses that typer is an automobile.     With the first six models of the McGuire ships, the robotocistsattempted to build in the Three Laws exactly as stated. And the firstsix went insane.     If one human being says jump left, and another says jump right,the robot is unable to evaluate which human being has given the morevalid order. Feed enough confusing and conflicting data into a robotbrain, and it can begin behaving in ways that, in a human being, wouldbe called paranoia or schizophrenia or catatonia or what-have-you,depending  [16]  on the symptoms. And an insane robot is fully as dangerousas an insane human being controlling the same mechanical equipment, ifnot more so.     So the seventh model had been modified. The present McGuire's brain wasimpressed with slight modifications of the First and Second Laws.     If it is difficult to define a human being, it is much more difficultto define a      responsible     human being. One, in other words, who canbe relied upon to give wise and proper orders to a robot, who can berelied upon not to drive the robot insane.     The robotocists at Viking Spacecraft had decided to take anothertack. Very well, they'd said, if we can't define all the membersof a group, we can certainly define an individual. We'll pick oneresponsible person and build McGuire so that he will take orders onlyfrom that person.     As it turned out, I was that person. Just substitute Daniel Oakfor human being in the First and Second Laws, and you'll see howimportant I was to a certain spaceship named McGuire.  <doc-sep>A station wagon came up behind them, slowed, and matched its speedwith theirs. Someone's following us, Quidley said.     Probably Jilka.     Five minutes later the station wagon turned down a side street anddisappeared. She's no longer with us, Quidley said.     She's got to pick someone up. She'll meet us later.     At your folks'?     At the ship.     The city was thinning out around them now, and a few stars were visiblein the night sky. Quidley watched them thoughtfully for a while. Then:What ship? he said.     The one we're going to      Fieu Dayol     on.           Fieu Dayol?          Persei 17 to you. I said I was going to take you home to meet myfolks, didn't I?     In other words, you're kidnapping me.     She shook her head vehemently. I most certainly am not! Neitheraccording to interstellar law or your own. When you compromised me, youmade yourself liable in the eyes of both.     But why pick on me? There must be plenty of men on      Fieu Dayol     . Whydon't you marry one of them?     For two reasons: one, you're the particular man who compromisedme. Two, there are      not     plenty of men on      Fieu Dayol     . Our race isidentical to yours in everything except population-balance between thesexes. At periodic intervals the women on      Fieu Dayol     so greatlyoutnumber the men that those of us who are temperamentally andemotionally unfitted to become spinsters have to look for      wotnids     —ormates—on other worlds. It's quite legal and quite respectable. As amatter of fact, we even have schools specializing in alien culturesto expedite our activities. Our biggest problem is the Interstellarstatute forbidding us the use of local communications services andforbidding us to appear in public places. It was devised to facilitatethe prosecution of interstellar black marketeers, but we're subject toit, too, and have to contrive communications systems of our own.     But why were all the messages addressed to you?     They weren't messages. They were requisitions. I'm the ship's stockgirl.  <doc-sep>III     Oh, yes, and Jamieson had a feeble paper on what he calledindividualization in marine worms. Barr, have you ever thought muchabout the larger aspects of the problem of individuality?     Jack jumped slightly. He had let his thoughts wander very far.     Not especially, sir, he mumbled.     The house was still. A few minutes after the professor's arrival,Mrs. Kesserich had gone off with an anxious glance at Jack. He knewwhy and wished he could reassure her that he would not mention theirconversation to the professor.     Kesserich had spent perhaps a half hour briefing him on the moreimportant papers delivered at the conferences. Then, almost as ifit were a teacher's trick to show up a pupil's inattention, he hadsuddenly posed this question about individuality.     You know what I mean, of course, Kesserich pressed. The factors thatmake you you, and me me.     Heredity and environment, Jack parroted like a freshman.     Kesserich nodded. Suppose—this is just speculation—that we couldcontrol heredity and environment. Then we could re-create the sameindividual at will.     Jack felt a shiver go through him. To get exactly the same pattern ofhereditary traits. That'd be far beyond us.     What about identical twins? Kesserich pointed out. And then there'sparthenogenesis to be considered. One might produce a duplicate of themother without the intervention of the male. Although his voice hadgrown more idly speculative, Kesserich seemed to Jack to be smilingsecretly. There are many examples in the lower animal forms, to saynothing of the technique by which Loeb caused a sea urchin to reproducewith no more stimulus than a salt solution.     Jack felt the hair rising on his neck. Even then you wouldn't getexactly the same pattern of hereditary traits.     Not if the parent were of very pure stock? Not if there were somespecial technique for selecting ova that would reproduce all themother's traits?     But environment would change things, Jack objected. The duplicatewould be bound to develop differently.     Is environment so important? Newman tells about a pair of identicaltwins separated from birth, unaware of each other's existence. They metby accident when they were twenty-one. Each was a telephone repairman.Each had a wife the same age. Each had a baby son. And each had a foxterrier called 'Trixie.' That's without trying to make environmentssimilar. But suppose you did try. Suppose you saw to it that each ofthem had exactly the same experiences at the same times....     For a moment it seemed to Jack that the room was dimming and wavering,becoming a dark pool in which the only motionless thing was Kesserich'ssphinx-like face.     Well, we've escaped quite far enough from Jamieson's marine worms,the biologist said, all brisk again. He said it as if Jack were theone who had led the conversation down wild and unprofitable channels.Let's get on to your project. I want to talk it over now, because Iwon't have any time for it tomorrow.     Jack looked at him blankly.     Tomorrow I must attend to a very important matter, the biologistexplained.  <doc-sep>April fields stretched darkly away on either side of the highway.Presently she turned down a rutted road between two of them and theybounced and swayed back to a black blur of trees. Here we are, shesaid.     Gradually he made out the sphere. It blended so flawlessly with itsbackground that he wouldn't have been able to see it at all if hehadn't been informed of its existence. A gangplank sloped down from anopen lock and came to rest just within the fringe of the trees.     Lights danced in the darkness behind them as another car jounced downthe rutted road. Jilka, Kay said. I wonder if she got him.     Apparently she had. At least there was a man with her—a ratherwoebegone, wilted creature who didn't even look up as they passed.Quidley watched them ascend the gangplank, the man in the lead, anddisappear into the ship.     Next, Kay said.     Quidley shook his head. You're not taking      me     to another planet!     She opened her purse and pulled out a small metallic object Alittle while ago you asked me what a      snoll doper     was, she said.Unfortunately interstellar law severely limits us in our choice ofmarriageable males, and we can take only those who refuse to conformto the sexual mores of their own societies. She did something to theobject that caused it to extend itself into a long, tubular affair.      This     is a      snoll doper     .     She prodded his ribs. March, she said.     He marched. Halfway up the plank he glanced back over his shoulder fora better look at the object pressed against his back.     It bore a striking resemblance to a shotgun.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What are the defining traits of Herbert Quidley, and can you tell me more about him?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"""In The Girls From Fieu Dayol, how does the snoll doper contribute to the plot?"" [SEP] <s>Her boy friend turned out to be her girl friend, and her girl friendturned out to be a tall and lissome, lovely with a Helenesque air ofher own. From the vantage point of a strategically located readingtable, where he was keeping company with his favorite little magazine,      The Zeitgeist     , Quidley watched her take a seemingly haphazard routeto the shelf where Taine's      History     reposed, take the volume down,surreptitiously slip a folded sheet of yellow paper between its pagesand return it to the shelf.     After she left he wasted no time in acquainting himself with the secondmessage. It was as unintelligible as the first:       asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj Cai: Habewotnid ig ist ending ifedererer te. T'lide sid Fieu Dayol po jestigtoseo knwo, bijk weil en snoll doper entling—Yoolna. asdf ;lkj asdf;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj       Well, perhaps not quite as unintelligible. He knew, at least, who Caiwas, and he knew—from the reappearance of the words      wotnid     ,      FieuDayol     and      snoll doper     —that the two communications were in thesame code. And certainly it was reasonable to assume that the lastword—      Yoolna     —was the name of the girl he had just seen, and thatshe was a different person from the      Klio     whose name had appended thefirst message.     He refolded the paper, replaced it between the pages, returned the bookto the shelf and went back to the reading table and      The Zeitgeist     .     Kay didn't show up till almost closing time, and he was beginningto think that perhaps she wouldn't come around for the pickup tilltomorrow when she finally walked in the door. She employed the sametactics she had employed the previous night, arriving, as though bychance, at the T-section and transferring the message with the sameundetectable legerdemain to her purse. This time, when she walked outthe door, he was not far behind her.     She climbed into a sleek convertible and pulled into the street. Ittook him but a moment to gain his hardtop and start out after her.When, several blocks later, she pulled to the curb in front of anall-night coffee bar, he followed suit. After that, it was merely amatter of following her inside.     He decided on Operation Spill-the-sugar. It had stood him in good steadbefore, and he was rather fond of it. The procedure was quite simple.First you took note of the position of the sugar dispensers, then yousituated yourself so that your intended victim was between you and thenearest one, then you ordered coffee without sugar in a low voice, andafter the counterman or countergirl had served you, you waited tillhe/she was out of earshot and asked your i.v. to please pass the sugar.When she did so you let the dispenser slip from your fingers in such away that some of its contents spilled on her lap—     I'm terribly sorry, he said, righting it. Here, let me brush it off.  <doc-sep>The following evening found Quidley on tenter-hooks. The      snoll-doper     mystery had acquired a new tang. He could hardly wait till the nextmessage transfer took place.     He decided to spend the evening plotting the epic novel which heintended to write someday. He set to work immediately. He plottedmentally, of course—notes were for the hacks and the other commercialnon-geniuses who infested the modern literary world. Closing his eyes,he saw the whole vivid panorama of epic action and grand adventureflowing like a mighty and majestic river before his literary vision:the authentic and awe-inspiring background; the hordes of colorfulcharacters; the handsome virile hero, the compelling Helenesqueheroine.... God, it was going to be great! The best thing he'd everdone! See, already there was a crowd of book lovers in front of thebookstore, staring into the window where the new Herbert Quidley wason display, trying to force its way into the jammed interior....      Cutto interior.     FIRST EAGER CUSTOMER: Tell me quickly, are there anymore copies of the new Herbert Quidley left? BOOK CLERK: A few. Youdon't know how lucky you are to get here before the first printing ranout. FIRST EAGER CUSTOMER: Give me a dozen. I want to make sure thatmy children and my children's children have a plentiful supply. BOOKCLERK: Sorry. Only one to a customer. Next? SECOND EAGER CUSTOMER: Tellme quickly, are ... there ... any ... more ... copies ... of—     ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ....     Message no. 4, except for a slight variation in camouflage, ran true toform:       a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj Cai: Habe te snoll dopers ensing?Wotnid ne Fieu Dayol ist ifederereret, hid jestig snoll doper. Ginded, olro—Jilka. a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj       Quidley sighed. What, he asked himself, standing in the library aisleand staring at the indecipherable words, was a normal girl like Kaydoing in such a childish secret society? From the way she and hercorrespondents carried on you'd almost think they were Martian girlscouts on an interplanetary camping trip, trying for their merit badgesin communications!     You could hardly call Kay a girl scout, though.     Nevertheless, she was the key figure in the      snoll-doper     enigma. Thefact annoyed him, especially when he considered that a      snoll doper     ,for all he knew, could be anything from a Chinese fortune cooky to anH-bomb.     He remembered Kay's odd accent. Was that the way a person would speakEnglish if her own language ran something like       ist ifedereret, hidjestig snoll doper adwo     ?     He remembered the way she had looked at him in the coffee bar.     He remembered the material of her dress.     He remembered how she had come to his room.     I didn't know you had a taste for Taine.  <doc-sep>In telling him that she would be in town two nights hence, Kay hadunwittingly apprised him that there would be no exchange of messagesuntil that time, so the next evening he skipped his vigil at thelibrary. The following evening, however, after readying his apartmentfor the forthcoming assignation, he hied himself to his reading-tablepost and took up      The Zeitgeist     once again.     He had not thought it possible that there could be a third such woman.     And yet there she was, walking in the door, tall and blue-eyed andgraceful; dark of hair and noble of mien; browsing in the philosophysection now, now the fiction section, now moving leisurely into theliterature aisle and toward the T's....     The camouflage had varied, but the message was typical enough:       fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; Cai: Ginden snoll doper nckli! Wotnid antwaterer Fieu Dayol hid jestig snolldoper ifedererer te. Dep gogensplo snoll dopers ensing!—Gorka. fdsajkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl;       Judging from the repeated use of the words,      snoll dopers     were thetopic of the day. Annoyed, Quidley replaced the message and put thebook back on the shelf. Then he returned to his apartment to await Kay.     He wondered what her reaction would be if he asked her point-blank whata      snoll doper     was; whether she would reveal the nature of the amateursecret society to which she and Klio and Yoolna and Gorka belonged.It virtually had to be an amateur secret society. Unless, of course,they were foreigners. But what on earth foreign organization would bequixotic enough to employ Taine's      History of English Literature     as acommunications medium when there was a telephone in every drugstore anda mailbox on every corner?     Somehow the words what on earth foreign organization got turnedaround in his mind and became what foreign organization on earth andbefore he could summon his common sense to succor him, he experienceda rather bad moment. By the time the door chimes sounded he was hisnormal self again.     He straightened his tie with nervous fingers, checked to see if hisshirt cuffs protruded the proper length from his coat sleeves, andlooked around the room to see if everything was in place. Everythingwas—the typewriter uncovered and centered on the chrome-trimmed desk,with the sheaf of crinkly first-sheets beside it; the reference booksstacked imposingly nearby;      Harper's     ,      The Atlantic     and      The SaturdayReview     showing conspicuously in the magazine rack; the newly openedbottle of bourbon and the two snifter glasses on the sideboard; thesmall table set cozily for two—  <doc-sep>   The Girls From Fieu Dayol     By ROBERT F. YOUNG     They were lovely and quick     to learn—and their only     faults were little ones!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Up until the moment when he first looked into Hippolyte Adolphe Taine's      History of English Literature     , Herbert Quidley's penchant for oldbooks had netted him nothing in the way of romance and intrigue.Not that he was a stranger to either. Far from it. But hitherto thebackground for both had been bedrooms and bars, not libraries.     On page 21 of the Taine tome he happened upon a sheet of yellow copypaper folded in four. Unfolding it, he read:       asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkjCai: Sities towms copeis wotnid. Gind snoll doper nckli! Wilbe FieuDayol fot ig habe mot toseo knwo—te bijk weil en snoll doper—Klio,asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj       Since when, Quidley wondered, refolding the paper and putting it backin the book, had high-school typing students taken to reading Taine?Thoughtfully he replaced the book on the shelf and moved deeper intothe literature section.     He had just taken down Xenophon's      Anabasis     when he saw the girl walkin the door.     Let it be said forthwith that old books were not the only item onHerbert Quidley's penchant-list. He liked old wood, too, and oldpaintings, not to mention old wine and old whiskey. But most of all heliked young girls. He especially liked them when they looked the wayHelen of Troy must have looked when Paris took one gander at her andstarted building his ladder. This one was tall, with hyacinth hair andliquid blue eyes, and she had a Grecian symmetry of shape that wouldhave made Paris' eyes pop had he been around to take notice. Pariswasn't, but Quidley's eyes, did the job.     After coming in the door, the girl deposited a book on the librarian'sdesk and headed for the literature section. Quickly Quidley loweredhis eyes to the      Anabasis     and henceforth followed her progress out oftheir corners. When she came to the O's she paused, took down a bookand glanced through it. Then she replaced it and moved on to theP's ... the Q's ... the R's. Barely three feet from him she pausedagain and took down Taine's      History of English Literature     .     He simply could not believe it. The odds against two persons taking aninterest in so esoteric a volume on a single night in a single librarywere ten thousand to one. And yet there was no gainsaying that thevolume was in the girl's hands, and that she was riffling through itwith the air of a seasoned browser.     Presently she returned the book to the shelf, selectedanother—seemingly at random—and took it over to the librarian's desk.She waited statuesquely while the librarian processed it, then tuckedit under her arm and whisked out the door into the misty April night.As soon as she disappeared, Quidley stepped over to the T's and tookTaine down once more. Just as he had suspected. The makeshift bookmarkwas gone.     He remembered how the asdf-;lkj exercise had given way to several linesof gibberish and then reappeared again. A camouflaged message? Or wasit merely what it appeared to be on the surface—the efforts of animpatient typing student to type before his time?     He returned Taine to the shelf. After learning from the librarian thatthe girl's name was Kay Smith, he went out and got in his hardtop. Thename rang a bell. Halfway home he realized why. The typing exercise hadcontained the word Cai, and if you pronounced it with hard c, you gotKai—or Kay. Obviously, then, the exercise had been a message, andhad been deliberately inserted in a book no average person would dreamof borrowing.     By whom—her boy friend?     Quidley winced. He was allergic to the term. Not that he ever let thepresence of a boy friend deter him when he set out to conquer, butbecause the term itself brought to mind the word fiance, and the wordfiance brought to mind still another word, one which repelled himviolently. I.e., marriage. Just the same, he decided to keep Taine's      History     under observation for a while.  <doc-sep>A station wagon came up behind them, slowed, and matched its speedwith theirs. Someone's following us, Quidley said.     Probably Jilka.     Five minutes later the station wagon turned down a side street anddisappeared. She's no longer with us, Quidley said.     She's got to pick someone up. She'll meet us later.     At your folks'?     At the ship.     The city was thinning out around them now, and a few stars were visiblein the night sky. Quidley watched them thoughtfully for a while. Then:What ship? he said.     The one we're going to      Fieu Dayol     on.           Fieu Dayol?          Persei 17 to you. I said I was going to take you home to meet myfolks, didn't I?     In other words, you're kidnapping me.     She shook her head vehemently. I most certainly am not! Neitheraccording to interstellar law or your own. When you compromised me, youmade yourself liable in the eyes of both.     But why pick on me? There must be plenty of men on      Fieu Dayol     . Whydon't you marry one of them?     For two reasons: one, you're the particular man who compromisedme. Two, there are      not     plenty of men on      Fieu Dayol     . Our race isidentical to yours in everything except population-balance between thesexes. At periodic intervals the women on      Fieu Dayol     so greatlyoutnumber the men that those of us who are temperamentally andemotionally unfitted to become spinsters have to look for      wotnids     —ormates—on other worlds. It's quite legal and quite respectable. As amatter of fact, we even have schools specializing in alien culturesto expedite our activities. Our biggest problem is the Interstellarstatute forbidding us the use of local communications services andforbidding us to appear in public places. It was devised to facilitatethe prosecution of interstellar black marketeers, but we're subject toit, too, and have to contrive communications systems of our own.     But why were all the messages addressed to you?     They weren't messages. They were requisitions. I'm the ship's stockgirl.  <doc-sep>Her voice seemed to come from far away, but she was standing rightbeside him, tall and bewitching; Helenesque as ever. Her blue eyesbecame great wells into which he found himself falling. With an effort,he pulled himself back. You're early tonight, he said lamely.     She appropriated the message, read it. Put the book back, she saidpresently. Then, when he complied: Come on.     Where are we going?     I'm going to deliver a      snoll doper     to Jilka. After that I'm going totake you home to meet my folks.     The relieved sigh he heard was his own.     They climbed into her convertible and she nosed it into the moving lineof cars. How long have you been reading my mail? she asked.     Since the night before I met you.     Was that the reason you spilled the sugar?     Part of the reason, he said. What's a      snoll doper     ?     She laughed. I don't think I'd better tell you just yet.     He sighed again. But if Jilka wanted a      snoll doper     , he said after awhile, why in the world didn't she call you up and say so?     Regulations. She pulled over to the curb in front of a brickapartment building. This is where Jilka lives. I'll explain when I getback.     He watched her get out, walk up the walk to the entrance and letherself in. He leaned his head back on the seat, lit a cigarette andexhaled a mixture of smoke and relief. On the way to meet her folks.So it was just an ordinary secret society after all. And here he'dbeen thinking that she was the key figure in a Martian plot to blow upEarth—     Her      folks     !     Abruptly the full implication of the words got through to him, and hesat bolt-up-right on the seat. He was starting to climb out of the carwhen he saw Kay coming down the walk. Anyway, running away wouldn'tsolve his problem. A complete disappearing act was in order, and acomplete disappearing act would take time. Meanwhile he would playalong with her.  <doc-sep>April fields stretched darkly away on either side of the highway.Presently she turned down a rutted road between two of them and theybounced and swayed back to a black blur of trees. Here we are, shesaid.     Gradually he made out the sphere. It blended so flawlessly with itsbackground that he wouldn't have been able to see it at all if hehadn't been informed of its existence. A gangplank sloped down from anopen lock and came to rest just within the fringe of the trees.     Lights danced in the darkness behind them as another car jounced downthe rutted road. Jilka, Kay said. I wonder if she got him.     Apparently she had. At least there was a man with her—a ratherwoebegone, wilted creature who didn't even look up as they passed.Quidley watched them ascend the gangplank, the man in the lead, anddisappear into the ship.     Next, Kay said.     Quidley shook his head. You're not taking      me     to another planet!     She opened her purse and pulled out a small metallic object Alittle while ago you asked me what a      snoll doper     was, she said.Unfortunately interstellar law severely limits us in our choice ofmarriageable males, and we can take only those who refuse to conformto the sexual mores of their own societies. She did something to theobject that caused it to extend itself into a long, tubular affair.      This     is a      snoll doper     .     She prodded his ribs. March, she said.     He marched. Halfway up the plank he glanced back over his shoulder fora better look at the object pressed against his back.     It bore a striking resemblance to a shotgun.  <doc-sep>The woman looked directly at him. Her eyes were bright. He revised hisestimate of her age drastically downward. She couldn't be as old as he.Nothing outward had happened, but she no longer seemed dowdy. Not thathe was interested. Still, it might pay him to be friendly to the firstcounselor.     We're a philanthropic agency, said Murra Foray. Your case isspecial, though—     I understand, he said gruffly. You accept contributions.     She nodded. If the donor is able to give. We don't ask so much thatyou'll have to compromise your standard of living. But she named a sumthat would force him to do just that if getting to Tunney 21 took anyappreciable time.     He stared at her unhappily. I suppose it's worth it. I can alwayswork, if I have to.     As a salesman? she asked. I'm afraid you'll find it difficult to dobusiness with Godolphians.     Irony wasn't called for at a time like this, he thought reproachfully.     Not just another salesman, he answered definitely. I have specialknowledge of customer reactions. I can tell exactly—     He stopped abruptly. Was she baiting him? For what reason? Theinstrument he called Dimanche was not known to the Galaxy at large.From the business angle, it would be poor policy to hand out thatinformation at random. Aside from that, he needed every advantage hecould get. Dimanche was his special advantage.     Anyway, he finished lamely, I'm a first class engineer. I canalways find something in that line.     A scientist, maybe, murmured Murra Foray. But in this part of theMilky Way, an engineer is regarded as merely a technician who hasn'tyet gained practical experience. She shook her head. You'll do betteras a salesman.     He got up, glowering. If that's all—     It is. We'll keep you informed. Drop your contribution in the slotprovided for that purpose as you leave.     A door, which he hadn't noticed in entering the counselling cubicle,swung open. The agency was efficient.     Remember, the counselor called out as he left, identification ishard to work with. Don't accept a crude forgery.     He didn't answer, but it was an idea worth considering. The agency wasalso eminently practical.     The exit path guided him firmly to an inconspicuous and yet inescapablecontribution station. He began to doubt the philanthropic aspect of thebureau.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] ""In The Girls From Fieu Dayol, how does the snoll doper contribute to the plot?""","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you tell me where The Girls From Fieu Dayol takes place? [SEP] <s>A station wagon came up behind them, slowed, and matched its speedwith theirs. Someone's following us, Quidley said.     Probably Jilka.     Five minutes later the station wagon turned down a side street anddisappeared. She's no longer with us, Quidley said.     She's got to pick someone up. She'll meet us later.     At your folks'?     At the ship.     The city was thinning out around them now, and a few stars were visiblein the night sky. Quidley watched them thoughtfully for a while. Then:What ship? he said.     The one we're going to      Fieu Dayol     on.           Fieu Dayol?          Persei 17 to you. I said I was going to take you home to meet myfolks, didn't I?     In other words, you're kidnapping me.     She shook her head vehemently. I most certainly am not! Neitheraccording to interstellar law or your own. When you compromised me, youmade yourself liable in the eyes of both.     But why pick on me? There must be plenty of men on      Fieu Dayol     . Whydon't you marry one of them?     For two reasons: one, you're the particular man who compromisedme. Two, there are      not     plenty of men on      Fieu Dayol     . Our race isidentical to yours in everything except population-balance between thesexes. At periodic intervals the women on      Fieu Dayol     so greatlyoutnumber the men that those of us who are temperamentally andemotionally unfitted to become spinsters have to look for      wotnids     —ormates—on other worlds. It's quite legal and quite respectable. As amatter of fact, we even have schools specializing in alien culturesto expedite our activities. Our biggest problem is the Interstellarstatute forbidding us the use of local communications services andforbidding us to appear in public places. It was devised to facilitatethe prosecution of interstellar black marketeers, but we're subject toit, too, and have to contrive communications systems of our own.     But why were all the messages addressed to you?     They weren't messages. They were requisitions. I'm the ship's stockgirl.  <doc-sep>Her boy friend turned out to be her girl friend, and her girl friendturned out to be a tall and lissome, lovely with a Helenesque air ofher own. From the vantage point of a strategically located readingtable, where he was keeping company with his favorite little magazine,      The Zeitgeist     , Quidley watched her take a seemingly haphazard routeto the shelf where Taine's      History     reposed, take the volume down,surreptitiously slip a folded sheet of yellow paper between its pagesand return it to the shelf.     After she left he wasted no time in acquainting himself with the secondmessage. It was as unintelligible as the first:       asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj Cai: Habewotnid ig ist ending ifedererer te. T'lide sid Fieu Dayol po jestigtoseo knwo, bijk weil en snoll doper entling—Yoolna. asdf ;lkj asdf;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj       Well, perhaps not quite as unintelligible. He knew, at least, who Caiwas, and he knew—from the reappearance of the words      wotnid     ,      FieuDayol     and      snoll doper     —that the two communications were in thesame code. And certainly it was reasonable to assume that the lastword—      Yoolna     —was the name of the girl he had just seen, and thatshe was a different person from the      Klio     whose name had appended thefirst message.     He refolded the paper, replaced it between the pages, returned the bookto the shelf and went back to the reading table and      The Zeitgeist     .     Kay didn't show up till almost closing time, and he was beginningto think that perhaps she wouldn't come around for the pickup tilltomorrow when she finally walked in the door. She employed the sametactics she had employed the previous night, arriving, as though bychance, at the T-section and transferring the message with the sameundetectable legerdemain to her purse. This time, when she walked outthe door, he was not far behind her.     She climbed into a sleek convertible and pulled into the street. Ittook him but a moment to gain his hardtop and start out after her.When, several blocks later, she pulled to the curb in front of anall-night coffee bar, he followed suit. After that, it was merely amatter of following her inside.     He decided on Operation Spill-the-sugar. It had stood him in good steadbefore, and he was rather fond of it. The procedure was quite simple.First you took note of the position of the sugar dispensers, then yousituated yourself so that your intended victim was between you and thenearest one, then you ordered coffee without sugar in a low voice, andafter the counterman or countergirl had served you, you waited tillhe/she was out of earshot and asked your i.v. to please pass the sugar.When she did so you let the dispenser slip from your fingers in such away that some of its contents spilled on her lap—     I'm terribly sorry, he said, righting it. Here, let me brush it off.  <doc-sep>   The Girls From Fieu Dayol     By ROBERT F. YOUNG     They were lovely and quick     to learn—and their only     faults were little ones!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Up until the moment when he first looked into Hippolyte Adolphe Taine's      History of English Literature     , Herbert Quidley's penchant for oldbooks had netted him nothing in the way of romance and intrigue.Not that he was a stranger to either. Far from it. But hitherto thebackground for both had been bedrooms and bars, not libraries.     On page 21 of the Taine tome he happened upon a sheet of yellow copypaper folded in four. Unfolding it, he read:       asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkjCai: Sities towms copeis wotnid. Gind snoll doper nckli! Wilbe FieuDayol fot ig habe mot toseo knwo—te bijk weil en snoll doper—Klio,asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj       Since when, Quidley wondered, refolding the paper and putting it backin the book, had high-school typing students taken to reading Taine?Thoughtfully he replaced the book on the shelf and moved deeper intothe literature section.     He had just taken down Xenophon's      Anabasis     when he saw the girl walkin the door.     Let it be said forthwith that old books were not the only item onHerbert Quidley's penchant-list. He liked old wood, too, and oldpaintings, not to mention old wine and old whiskey. But most of all heliked young girls. He especially liked them when they looked the wayHelen of Troy must have looked when Paris took one gander at her andstarted building his ladder. This one was tall, with hyacinth hair andliquid blue eyes, and she had a Grecian symmetry of shape that wouldhave made Paris' eyes pop had he been around to take notice. Pariswasn't, but Quidley's eyes, did the job.     After coming in the door, the girl deposited a book on the librarian'sdesk and headed for the literature section. Quickly Quidley loweredhis eyes to the      Anabasis     and henceforth followed her progress out oftheir corners. When she came to the O's she paused, took down a bookand glanced through it. Then she replaced it and moved on to theP's ... the Q's ... the R's. Barely three feet from him she pausedagain and took down Taine's      History of English Literature     .     He simply could not believe it. The odds against two persons taking aninterest in so esoteric a volume on a single night in a single librarywere ten thousand to one. And yet there was no gainsaying that thevolume was in the girl's hands, and that she was riffling through itwith the air of a seasoned browser.     Presently she returned the book to the shelf, selectedanother—seemingly at random—and took it over to the librarian's desk.She waited statuesquely while the librarian processed it, then tuckedit under her arm and whisked out the door into the misty April night.As soon as she disappeared, Quidley stepped over to the T's and tookTaine down once more. Just as he had suspected. The makeshift bookmarkwas gone.     He remembered how the asdf-;lkj exercise had given way to several linesof gibberish and then reappeared again. A camouflaged message? Or wasit merely what it appeared to be on the surface—the efforts of animpatient typing student to type before his time?     He returned Taine to the shelf. After learning from the librarian thatthe girl's name was Kay Smith, he went out and got in his hardtop. Thename rang a bell. Halfway home he realized why. The typing exercise hadcontained the word Cai, and if you pronounced it with hard c, you gotKai—or Kay. Obviously, then, the exercise had been a message, andhad been deliberately inserted in a book no average person would dreamof borrowing.     By whom—her boy friend?     Quidley winced. He was allergic to the term. Not that he ever let thepresence of a boy friend deter him when he set out to conquer, butbecause the term itself brought to mind the word fiance, and the wordfiance brought to mind still another word, one which repelled himviolently. I.e., marriage. Just the same, he decided to keep Taine's      History     under observation for a while.  <doc-sep>The following evening found Quidley on tenter-hooks. The      snoll-doper     mystery had acquired a new tang. He could hardly wait till the nextmessage transfer took place.     He decided to spend the evening plotting the epic novel which heintended to write someday. He set to work immediately. He plottedmentally, of course—notes were for the hacks and the other commercialnon-geniuses who infested the modern literary world. Closing his eyes,he saw the whole vivid panorama of epic action and grand adventureflowing like a mighty and majestic river before his literary vision:the authentic and awe-inspiring background; the hordes of colorfulcharacters; the handsome virile hero, the compelling Helenesqueheroine.... God, it was going to be great! The best thing he'd everdone! See, already there was a crowd of book lovers in front of thebookstore, staring into the window where the new Herbert Quidley wason display, trying to force its way into the jammed interior....      Cutto interior.     FIRST EAGER CUSTOMER: Tell me quickly, are there anymore copies of the new Herbert Quidley left? BOOK CLERK: A few. Youdon't know how lucky you are to get here before the first printing ranout. FIRST EAGER CUSTOMER: Give me a dozen. I want to make sure thatmy children and my children's children have a plentiful supply. BOOKCLERK: Sorry. Only one to a customer. Next? SECOND EAGER CUSTOMER: Tellme quickly, are ... there ... any ... more ... copies ... of—     ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ....     Message no. 4, except for a slight variation in camouflage, ran true toform:       a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj Cai: Habe te snoll dopers ensing?Wotnid ne Fieu Dayol ist ifederereret, hid jestig snoll doper. Ginded, olro—Jilka. a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj       Quidley sighed. What, he asked himself, standing in the library aisleand staring at the indecipherable words, was a normal girl like Kaydoing in such a childish secret society? From the way she and hercorrespondents carried on you'd almost think they were Martian girlscouts on an interplanetary camping trip, trying for their merit badgesin communications!     You could hardly call Kay a girl scout, though.     Nevertheless, she was the key figure in the      snoll-doper     enigma. Thefact annoyed him, especially when he considered that a      snoll doper     ,for all he knew, could be anything from a Chinese fortune cooky to anH-bomb.     He remembered Kay's odd accent. Was that the way a person would speakEnglish if her own language ran something like       ist ifedereret, hidjestig snoll doper adwo     ?     He remembered the way she had looked at him in the coffee bar.     He remembered the material of her dress.     He remembered how she had come to his room.     I didn't know you had a taste for Taine.  <doc-sep>In telling him that she would be in town two nights hence, Kay hadunwittingly apprised him that there would be no exchange of messagesuntil that time, so the next evening he skipped his vigil at thelibrary. The following evening, however, after readying his apartmentfor the forthcoming assignation, he hied himself to his reading-tablepost and took up      The Zeitgeist     once again.     He had not thought it possible that there could be a third such woman.     And yet there she was, walking in the door, tall and blue-eyed andgraceful; dark of hair and noble of mien; browsing in the philosophysection now, now the fiction section, now moving leisurely into theliterature aisle and toward the T's....     The camouflage had varied, but the message was typical enough:       fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; Cai: Ginden snoll doper nckli! Wotnid antwaterer Fieu Dayol hid jestig snolldoper ifedererer te. Dep gogensplo snoll dopers ensing!—Gorka. fdsajkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl;       Judging from the repeated use of the words,      snoll dopers     were thetopic of the day. Annoyed, Quidley replaced the message and put thebook back on the shelf. Then he returned to his apartment to await Kay.     He wondered what her reaction would be if he asked her point-blank whata      snoll doper     was; whether she would reveal the nature of the amateursecret society to which she and Klio and Yoolna and Gorka belonged.It virtually had to be an amateur secret society. Unless, of course,they were foreigners. But what on earth foreign organization would bequixotic enough to employ Taine's      History of English Literature     as acommunications medium when there was a telephone in every drugstore anda mailbox on every corner?     Somehow the words what on earth foreign organization got turnedaround in his mind and became what foreign organization on earth andbefore he could summon his common sense to succor him, he experienceda rather bad moment. By the time the door chimes sounded he was hisnormal self again.     He straightened his tie with nervous fingers, checked to see if hisshirt cuffs protruded the proper length from his coat sleeves, andlooked around the room to see if everything was in place. Everythingwas—the typewriter uncovered and centered on the chrome-trimmed desk,with the sheaf of crinkly first-sheets beside it; the reference booksstacked imposingly nearby;      Harper's     ,      The Atlantic     and      The SaturdayReview     showing conspicuously in the magazine rack; the newly openedbottle of bourbon and the two snifter glasses on the sideboard; thesmall table set cozily for two—  <doc-sep>     Going straight meant crooked planning. He'd       never make it unless he somehow managed to       PICK A CRIME     By RICHARD R. SMITH     Illustrated by DICK FRANCIS     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction May 1958.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The girl was tall, wide-eyed and brunette. She had the right curves inthe right places and would have been beautiful if her nose had beensmaller, if her mouth had been larger and if her hair had been wavyinstead of straight.     Hank said you wanted to see me, she said when she stopped besideJoe's table.     Yeah. Joe nodded at the other chair. Have a seat. He reached into apocket, withdrew five ten-dollar bills and handed them to her. I wantyou to do a job for me. It'll only take a few minutes.     The girl counted the money, then placed it in her purse. Joe noticeda small counterfeit-detector inside the purse before she closed it.What's the job?     Tell you later. He gulped the remainder of his drink, almost pouringit down his throat.     Hey. You trying to make yourself sick?     Not sick. Drunk. Been trying to get drunk all afternoon. As theliquor settled in his stomach, he waited for the warm glow. But theglow didn't come ... the bartender had watered his drink again.     Trying to get drunk? the girl inquired. Are you crazy?     No. It's simple. If I get drunk, I can join the AAA and get free roomand board for a month while they give me a treatment.     It was easy enough to understand, he reflected, but a lot harder to do.The CPA robot bartenders saw to it that anyone got high if they wanted,but comparatively few got drunk. Each bartender could not only mixdrinks but could also judge by a man's actions and speech when he wason the verge of drunkenness. At the proper time—since drunkenness wasillegal—a bartender always watered the drinks.     Joe had tried dozens of times in dozens of bars to outsmart them, buthad always failed. And in all of New York's millions, there had beenonly a hundred cases of intoxication during the previous year.     The girl laughed. If you're that hard up, I don't know if I shouldtake this fifty or not. Why don't you go out and get a job likeeveryone else?     As an answer, Joe handed her his CPA ID card. She grunted when shesaw the large letters that indicated the owner had Dangerous CriminalTendencies.  <doc-sep>When he awoke, a rough voice was saying, Okay. Snap out of it.     He opened his eyes and recognized the police commissioner's office. Itwould be hard not to recognize: the room was large, devoid of furnitureexcept for a desk and chairs, but the walls were lined with thecontrols of television screens, electronic calculators and a hundredother machines that formed New York's mechanical police force.     Commissioner Hendricks was a remarkable character. There was somethingwrong with his glands, and he was a huge, greasy bulk of a man withbushy eyebrows and a double chin. His steel-gray eyes showed somethingof his intelligence and he would have gone far in politics if fatehadn't made him so ugly, for more than half the voters who elected mento high political positions were women.     Anyone who knew Hendricks well liked him, for he was a friendly,likable person. But the millions of women voters who saw his face onposters and on their TV screens saw only the ugly face and heard onlythe harsh voice. The President of the United States was a capableman, but also a very handsome one, and the fact that a man who lookedsomething like a bulldog had been elected as New York's policecommissioner was a credit to Hendricks and millions of women voters.     Where's the girl? Joe asked.     I processed her while you were out cold. She left. Joe, you—     Okay, Joe said. I'll save you the trouble. I admit it. Attemptedrape. I confess.     Hendricks smiled. Sorry, Joe. You missed the boat again. He reachedout and turned a dial on his desk top. We had a microphone hidden inthat alley. We have a lot of microphones hidden in a lot of alleys.You'd be surprised at the number of conspiracies that take place inalleys!     Joe listened numbly to his voice as it came from one of the hundreds ofmachines on the walls,       Scream. Scream as loud as you can, and whenthe cops get here, tell 'em I tried to rape you.      And then the girl'svoice,       Sorry, buddy. Can't help—          He waved his hand. Okay. Shut it off. I confess to conspiracy.  <doc-sep>The girl followed him across the room, around tables, through a door,down a hall, through a back door and into the alley.     She followed him up the dark alley until he turned suddenly and rippedher blouse and skirt.     He surprised her completely, but when she recovered, she backed away,her body poised like a wrestler's. What's the big idea?     Scream, Joe said. Scream as loud as you can, and when the cops gethere, tell 'em I tried to rape you.     The plan was perfect, he told himself. Attempted rape was one of thefew things that was a crime merely because a man attempted it. A crimebecause it theoretically inflicted psychological injury upon theintended victim—and because millions of women voters had voted it acrime. On the other hand, attempted murder, robbery, kidnapping, etc.,were not crimes. They weren't crimes because the DCT didn't completethe act, and if he didn't complete the act, that meant simply that theCPA had once again functioned properly.     The girl shook her head vigorously. Sorry, buddy. Can't help you thatway. Why didn't you tell me what you wanted?     What's the matter? Joe complained. I'm not asking you to do anythingwrong.     You stupid jerk. What do you think this is—the Middle Ages? Don't youknow almost every woman knows how to defend herself? I'm a sergeant inthe WSDA!     Joe groaned. The WSDA—Women's Self-Defense Association—a branch ofthe CPA. The WSDA gave free instruction in judo and jujitsu, evendeveloped new techniques of wrestling and instructed only women inthose new techniques.     The girl was still shaking her head. Can't do it, buddy. I'd lose myrank if you were convicted of—     Do I have to      make     you scream? Joe inquired tiredly and advancedtoward the girl.     —and that rank carries a lot of weight. Hey!      Stop it!          Joe discovered to his dismay that the girl was telling the truth whenshe said she was a sergeant in the WSDA. He felt her hands on his body,and in the time it takes to blink twice, he was flying through the air.       The alley's concrete floor was hard—it had always been hard, but hebecame acutely aware of its lack of resiliency when his head struck it.There was a wonderful moment while the world was filled with beautifulstars and streaks of lightning through which he heard distant policesirens. But the wonderful moment didn't last long and darkness closedin on him.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you tell me where The Girls From Fieu Dayol takes place?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"Can you provide a summary of the storyline in CAPTAIN MIDAS? [SEP] <s>On Callisto I was relieved of my command. The Admiralty Court acquittedme of the charges of negligence, but the Foundation refused me anothership. It was my ... illness. It spread from my hands, as you can see.Slowly, very slowly. So what remains for me? A hospital cot and aspaceman's pension. Those tons of gold in the sky are cursed, like mostgreat treasures. Somewhere, out in the deeps between the stars, thedust of my crew guards that golden derelict. It belongs to them now ...all of it.     But the price we pay for treasure is this. Look at me. I look eighty!I'm thirty two. And the bitterest part of the story is that peoplelaugh at me when I tell what happened. They laugh and call me mynickname. Have you heard it?     It's ... Captain Midas.   <doc-sep>What is it you wish? he barked. I understood in my discussions withthe other ... ah ... civilian there'd be no further need for theseirritating conferences.     I've just learned you're placing more students abroad, Mr. Gulver. Howmany this time?     Two thousand.     And where will they be going?     Croanie. It's all in the application form I've handed in. Your job isto provide transportation.     Will there be any other students embarking this season?     Why ... perhaps. That's Boge's business. Gulver looked at Retief withpursed lips. As a matter of fact, we had in mind dispatching anothertwo thousand to Featherweight.     Another under-populated world—and in the same cluster, I believe,Retief said. Your people must be unusually interested in that regionof space.     If that's all you wanted to know, I'll be on my way. I have matters ofimportance to see to.     After Gulver left, Retief called Miss Furkle in. I'd like to have abreak-out of all the student movements that have been planned under thepresent program, he said. And see if you can get a summary of whatMEDDLE has been shipping lately.     Miss Furkle compressed her lips. If Mr. Magnan were here, I'm surehe wouldn't dream of interfering in the work of other departments.I ... overheard your conversation with the gentleman from the CroanieLegation—     The lists, Miss Furkle.     I'm not accustomed, Miss Furkle said, to intruding in mattersoutside our interest cluster.     That's worse than listening in on phone conversations, eh? But nevermind. I need the information, Miss Furkle.     Loyalty to my Chief—     Loyalty to your pay-check should send you scuttling for the materialI've asked for, Retief said. I'm taking full responsibility. Nowscat.     The buzzer sounded. Retief flipped a key. MUDDLE, Retief speaking....     Arapoulous's brown face appeared on the desk screen.     How-do, Retief. Okay if I come up?     Sure, Hank. I want to talk to you.     In the office, Arapoulous took a chair. Sorry if I'm rushing you,Retief, he said. But have you got anything for me?     Retief waved at the wine bottles. What do you know about Croanie?     Croanie? Not much of a place. Mostly ocean. All right if you likefish, I guess. We import our seafood from there. Nice prawns in monsoontime. Over a foot long.     You on good terms with them?     Sure, I guess so. Course, they're pretty thick with Boge.     So?     Didn't I tell you? Boge was the bunch that tried to take us over herea dozen years back. They'd've made it too, if they hadn't had a lot ofbad luck. Their armor went in the drink, and without armor they're easygame.     Miss Furkle buzzed. I have your lists, she said shortly.     Bring them in, please.  <doc-sep>  CAPTAIN MIDAS     By ALFRED COPPEL, JR.     The captain of the Martian Maid stared avidly at     the torn derelict floating against the velvet void.     Here was treasure beyond his wildest dreams! How     could he know his dreams should have been nightmares?     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Gold! A magic word, even today, isn't it? Lust and gold ... they gohand in hand. Like the horsemen of the Apocalypse. And, of course,there's another word needed to make up the trilogy. You don't getany thing for nothing. So add this: Cost. Or you might call it pain,sorrow, agony. Call it what you like. It's what you pay for greattreasure....     These things were true when fabled Jason sailed the Argo beyond Colchisseeking the Fleece. They were true when men sailed the southern oceansin wooden ships. And the conquest of space hasn't changed us a bit.We're still a greedy lot....     I'm a queer one to be saying these things, but then, who has moreright? Look at me. My hair is gray and my face ... my face is a mask.The flesh hangs on my bones like a yellow cloth on a rickety frame. Iam old, old. And I wait here on my hospital cot—wait for the weight ofyears I never lived to drag me under and let me forget the awful thingsmy eyes have seen.     I'm poor, too, or else I wouldn't be here in this place of dying forold spacemen. I haven't a dime except for the pittance the HolcombFoundation calls a spaceman's pension. Yet I had millions in my hands.Treasure beyond your wildest dreams! Cursed treasure....     You smile. You are thinking that I'm just an old man, beachedearthside, spinning tall tales to impress the youngsters. Maybe,thinking about the kind of spacemen my generation produced, you havethe idea that if ever we'd so much as laid a hand on anything of valueout in space we'd not let go until Hell froze over! Well, you'reright about that. We didn't seek the spaceways for the advancement ofcivilization or any of that Foundation bushwah, you can be certain ofthat. We did it for      us     ... for Number One. That's the kind of men wewere, and we were proud of it. We hung onto what we found because therisks were high and we were entitled to keep what we could out there.But there are strange things in the sky. Things that don't respond toall of our neat little Laws and Theories. There are things that are nopart of the world of men, thick with danger—and horror.  <doc-sep>Bailey and I climbed from the mess compartment together. I steered himto my quarters, where the medical supplies were stored. He sat on mybunk and exploded into weeping, banging his fists against the metalbulkhead. You'll have that drink now, I said.     No, dammit! he shouted.     Orders, I said. I poured us each some fifty cc's of rye. This istherapy, Bailey, I told him. He poured the fiery stuff down his throatlike water and silently held out his glass for a second. I provided it.     After a few minutes Bailey's sobbing ceased. Sorry, Doc, he said.     You've taken more pressure than most men would, I said. Nothing tobe ashamed of.     He's crazy. What sane man would expect me to dip Wiener schnitzeland sauerkraut and      Backhahndl nach suddeutscher Art     out of an algaetank? I've got nothing but microscopic weeds to cook for him! Worn-outmolecules reclaimed from the head; packaged amino acid additives. Andhe expects meals that would take the blue ribbon at the annual banquetof the Friends of Escoffier!     Yours is an ancient plaint, Bailey, I said. You've worked yourfingers to the bone, slaving over a hot stove, and you're notappreciated. But you're not married to Winkelmann, remember. A yearfrom now you'll be home in Ohio, fifty grand richer, set to start thatrestaurant of yours and forget about our fat Flying Dutchman.     I hate him, Bailey said with the simplicity of true emotion. Hereached for the bottle. I let him have it. Sometimes alcohol can bean apt confederate of      vis medicatrix naturae     , the healing power ofnature. Half an hour later I strapped Bailey into his bunk to sleep itoff. That therapeutic drunk seemed to be just what he'd needed.     For morning mess the next day we had a broth remarkable inhorribleness, a pottage or boiled      Chlorella vulgaris     that lookedand tasted like the vomit of some bottom-feeding sea-beast. Bailey,red-eyed and a-tremble, made no apology, and stared at Winkelmann asthough daring him to comment. The Captain lifted a spoonful of thedisgusting stuff to his lips, smacked and said, Belly-Robber, you'reimproving a little at last.     Bailey nodded and smiled. Thank you, Sir, he said.     I smiled, too. Bailey had conquered himself. His psychic defenses werenow strong enough to withstand the Captain's fiercest assaults ofirony. Our food would likely be bad the rest of this trip, but that wasa price I was willing to pay for seeing destroyed the Willy Winkelmanntheory of forcing a Cook to make bricks without straw. The Captainhad pushed too hard. He'd need that ketchup for the meals to come, Ithought.     Noon mess was nearly as awful as breakfast had been. The coffee tastedof salt, and went largely undrunk. The men in the mess compartment werevehement in their protests, blaming the Captain, in his absence, forthe decline in culinary standards. Bailey seemed not to care. He servedthe algaeburgers with half a mind, and hurried back into his galleyoblivious of the taunts of his crewmates.  <doc-sep>  UNBORN     TOMORROW     BY MACK REYNOLDS   Unfortunately , there was onlyone thing he could bring backfrom the wonderful future ...and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....    Illustrated by Freas     Betty  looked up fromher magazine. She saidmildly, You're late.     Don't yell at me, Ifeel awful, Simon toldher. He sat down at his desk, passedhis tongue over his teeth in distaste,groaned, fumbled in a drawer for theaspirin bottle.     He looked over at Betty and said,almost as though reciting, What Ineed is a vacation.     What, Betty said, are you goingto use for money?     Providence, Simon told herwhilst fiddling with the aspirin bottle,will provide.     Hm-m-m. But before providingvacations it'd be nice if Providenceturned up a missing jewel deal, say.Something where you could deducethat actually the ruby ring had gonedown the drain and was caught in theelbow. Something that would netabout fifty dollars.     Simon said, mournful of tone,Fifty dollars? Why not make it fivehundred?     I'm not selfish, Betty said. AllI want is enough to pay me thisweek's salary.     Money, Simon said. When youtook this job you said it was the romancethat appealed to you.     Hm-m-m. I didn't know mostsleuthing amounted to snoopingaround department stores to check onthe clerks knocking down.     Simon said, enigmatically, Nowit comes. <doc-sep>The first contact Man had ever had with an intelligent alien raceoccurred out on the perimeter in a small quiet place a long way fromhome. Late in the year 2360—the exact date remains unknown—an alienforce attacked and destroyed the colony at Lupus V. The wreckage andthe dead were found by a mailship which flashed off screaming for thearmy.     When the army came it found this: Of the seventy registered colonists,thirty-one were dead. The rest, including some women and children,were missing. All technical equipment, all radios, guns, machines,even books, were also missing. The buildings had been burned, so werethe bodies. Apparently the aliens had a heat ray. What else they had,nobody knew. After a few days of walking around in the ash, one soldierfinally stumbled on something.     For security reasons, there was a detonator in one of the mainbuildings. In case of enemy attack, Security had provided a bomb to beburied in the center of each colony, because it was important to blowa whole village to hell and gone rather than let a hostile alien learnvital facts about human technology and body chemistry. There was a bombat Lupus V too, and though it had been detonated it had not blown. Thedetonating wire had been cut.     In the heart of the camp, hidden from view under twelve inches ofearth, the wire had been dug up and cut.     The army could not understand it and had no time to try. After fivehundred years of peace and anti-war conditioning the army was small,weak and without respect. Therefore, the army did nothing but spreadthe news, and Man began to fall back.     In a thickening, hastening stream he came back from the hard-wonstars, blowing up his homes behind him, stunned and cursing. Most ofthe colonists got out in time. A few, the farthest and loneliest, diedin fire before the army ships could reach them. And the men in thoseships, drinkers and gamblers and veterans of nothing, the dregs of asociety which had grown beyond them, were for a long while the onlydefense Earth had.     This was the message Captain Dylan had brought, come out from Earthwith a bottle on his hip.  <doc-sep>The mild shocks went on—whether from projectiles or energy-charges,would be hard to find out and it didn't matter; whatever was hittingthe      Quest III's     shell was doing it at velocities where thedistinction between matter and radiation practically ceases to exist.     But that shell was tough. It was an extension of the gravitic drivefield which transmitted the engines' power equally to every atom ofthe ship; forces impinging on the outside of the field were similarlytransmitted and rendered harmless. The effect was as if the vessel andall space inside its field were a single perfectly elastic body. Ameteoroid, for example, on striking it rebounded—usually vaporized bythe impact—and the ship, in obedience to the law of equal and oppositeforces, rebounded too, but since its mass was so much greater, itsdeflection was negligible.     The people in the      Quest III     would have felt nothing at all ofthe vicious onslaught being hurled against them, save that theirinertialess drive, at its normal thrust of two hundred gravities,was intentionally operated at one half of one per cent efficiency toprovide the illusion of Earthly gravitation.     One of the officers said shakily, It's as if they've been lying inwait for us. But why on Earth—     That, said the captain grimly, is what we have to find out. Why—onEarth. At least, I suspect the answer's there.     The      Quest III     bored steadily on through space, decelerating. Even ifone were no fatalist, there seemed no reason to stop decelerating orchange course. There was nowhere else to go and too little fuel leftif there had been; come what might, this was journey's end—perhapsin a more violent and final way than had been anticipated. All aroundwheeled the pigmy enemies, circling, maneuvering, and attacking,always attacking, with the senseless fury of maddened hornets. Theinterstellar ship bore no offensive weapons—but suddenly on one of thevision screens a speck of light flared into nova-brilliance, dazzlingthe watchers for the brief moment in which its very atoms were tornapart.     Knof Jr. whooped ecstatically and then subsided warily, but no one waspaying attention to him. The men on the      Quest III's     bridge lookedquestions at each other, as the thought of help from outside flashedinto many minds at once. But Captain Llud said soberly, It must havecaught one of their own shots, reflected. Maybe its own, if it scoredtoo direct a hit.     He studied the data so far gathered. A few blurred pictures had beengot, which showed cylindrical space ships much like the      Quest III     ,except that they were rocket-propelled and of far lesser size. Theirsize was hard to ascertain, because you needed to know their distanceand speed—but detector-beam echoes gave the distance, and likewise, bythe Doppler method, the velocity of directly receding or approachingships. It was apparent that the enemy vessels were even smaller thanGwar Den had at first supposed—not large enough to hold even one man.Tiny, deadly hornets with a colossal sting.     Robot craft, no doubt, said Knof Llud, but a chill ran down his spineas it occurred to him that perhaps the attackers weren't of humanorigin. They had seen no recognizable life in the part of the galaxythey had explored, but one of the other      Quests     might have encounteredand been traced home by some unhuman race that was greedy and able toconquer.  <doc-sep>With a wrenching turn that almost threw them out of control, Dennismaneuvered to avoid the beam. Again Koerber's beam lashed out, as hesank lower into the looming mass, and again Dennis anticipating themaneuver avoided it.     George Randall! He shouted desperately into the speaker. Cut alljets in the rocket room! Hurry, man! He banked again and then zoomedout of the increasing gravity trap.     Randall! I've got to use the magnetic repulsion plates.... Cut all thejets! But there was no response. Randall's screen remained blank. ThenKoerber's lashing magnetic beam touched and the I.S.P. ship was caught,forced to follow the pirate ship's plunge like the weight at the end ofa whiplash. Koerber's gunners sent one parting shot, an atom-blast thatshook the trapped cruiser like a leaf.     Beneath them, growing larger by the second, a small world rushed up tomeet them. The readings in the Planetograph seemed to have gone crazy.It showed diameter 1200 miles; composition mineral and radio-active.Gravity seven-eighths of Terra. It couldn't be! Unless perhaps thisunknown planetoid was the legendary core of the world that at one timewas supposed to have existed between Jupiter and Mars. Only that couldpossibly explain the incredible gravity.     And then began another type of battle. Hearing the Captain's orders toRandall, and noting that no result had been obtained, Scotty Byrneshimself cut the jets. The Magnetic Repulsion Plates went into action,too late to save them from being drawn, but at least they could preventa crash. Far in the distance they could see Koerber's ship precedingthem in a free fall, then the Planetoid was rushing up to engulf them.      III     The atmosphere was somewhat tenuous, but it was breathable, provideda man didn't exert himself. To the silent crew of the I.S.P. Cruiser,the strange world to which Koerber's magnetic Beam had drawn them,was anything but reassuring. Towering crags jutted raggedly againstthe sky, and the iridescent soil of the narrow valley that walled inthe cruiser, had a poisonous, deadly look. As far as their eyes couldreach, the desolate, denuded vista stretched to the horizon.     Pretty much of a mess! Dennis Brooke's face was impassive as heturned to Scotty Byrnes. What's your opinion? Think we can patch herup, or are we stuck here indefinitely?     Scotty eyed the damage. The atom-blast had penetrated the hull intothe forward fuel chambers and the armor had blossomed out like flowerpetals. The crash-landing had not helped either.     Well, there's a few beryloid plates in the storage locker, Captain,but, he scratched his head ruminatively and shifted his precious cud.     But what? Speak up man! It was Tom Jeffery, his nerves on edge, hisordinarily gentle voice like a lash.     But, you may as well know it, Scotty replied quietly. That partingshot of Koerber's severed our main rocket feed. I had to use theemergency tank to make it down here!     For a long moment the four men looked at each other in silence. DennisBrooke's face was still impassive but for the flaming hazel eyes. Tomtugged at the torn sleeve of his I.S.P. uniform, while Scotty gazedmournfully at the damaged ship. Dallas Bernan looked at the long,ragged line of cliffs.     I think we got Koerber, though, he said at last. While Tom was doinga job of navigation, I had one last glimpse of him coming down fastand out of control somewhere behind those crags over there!     To hell with Koerber! Tom Jeffery exploded. You mean we're stuck inthis hellish rock-pile?     Easy, Tom! Captain Brooke's tones were like ice. On his pale,impassive face, his eyes were like flaming topaz. Where's Randall?     Probably hiding his head under a bunk! Dallas laughed with scorn. Hiscontemptuous remark voiced the feelings of the entire crew. A man whofailed to be at his battle-station in time of emergency, had no placein the I.S.P.     Considering the gravity of this planetoid, Dennis Brooke saidthoughtfully, it's going to take some blast to get us off!     Maybe we can locate a deposit of anerioum or uranium or something forour atom-busters to chew on! Scotty said hopefully. He was an eternaloptimist.     Better break out those repair plates, Dennis said to Scotty. Tom,you get the welders ready. I've got a few entries to make in the logbook, and then we'll decide on a party to explore the terrain and tryto find out what happened to Koerber's ship. I must know, he said in alow voice, but with such passion that the others were startled.     A figure appeared in the slanting doorway of the ship in time to hearthe last words. It was George Randall, adjusting a bandaged foreheadbumped during the crash landing.     Captain ... I ... I wanted ... he paused unable to continue.     You wanted what? Captain Brooke's voice was terse. Perhaps youwanted to explain why you weren't at your battle station?     Sir, I wanted to know if ... if I might help Scotty with the weldingjob.... That wasn't at all what he'd intended to say. But somehow thewords had stuck in his throat and his face flushed deep scarlet. Hiscandid blue eyes were suspiciously brilliant, and the white bandagewith its crimson stains made an appealing, boyish figure. It softenedthe anger in Brooke's heart. Thinking it over calmly, Dennis realizedthis was the youngster's first trip into the outer orbits, and bettermen than he had cracked in those vast reaches of space. But there hadbeen an instant when he'd found Randall cowering in the rocket-room, inthe grip of paralyzing hysteria, when he could cheerfully have wrunghis neck!     Certainly, Randall, he replied in a much more kindly tone. We'llneed all hands now.     Thank you, sir! Randall seemed to hesitate for a moment, opened hismouth to speak further, but feeling the other's calculating gaze uponhim, he whirled and re-entered the ship.     But for him we wouldn't be here! Dallas exclaimed. Aagh! He shookhis head in disgust until the several folds of flesh under his chinshook like gelatin. Cowards are hell! He spat.     Easy, Dallas, Randall's a kid, give 'im a chance. Dennis observed.     You Captain ... you're defending 'im? Why you had a greater stake inthis than we, and he's spoiled it for you!     Yep, Dennis nodded. But I'm still keeping my senses clear. No feudson my ship. Get it! The last two words cut like a scimitar.     Dallas nodded and lowered his eyes. Scotty shifted his cud and spata thin stream of juice over the iridescent ground. One by one theyre-entered the cruiser.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] Can you provide a summary of the storyline in CAPTAIN MIDAS?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What are the defining traits of Captain Midas and who is he? [SEP] <s>On Callisto I was relieved of my command. The Admiralty Court acquittedme of the charges of negligence, but the Foundation refused me anothership. It was my ... illness. It spread from my hands, as you can see.Slowly, very slowly. So what remains for me? A hospital cot and aspaceman's pension. Those tons of gold in the sky are cursed, like mostgreat treasures. Somewhere, out in the deeps between the stars, thedust of my crew guards that golden derelict. It belongs to them now ...all of it.     But the price we pay for treasure is this. Look at me. I look eighty!I'm thirty two. And the bitterest part of the story is that peoplelaugh at me when I tell what happened. They laugh and call me mynickname. Have you heard it?     It's ... Captain Midas.   <doc-sep>  CAPTAIN MIDAS     By ALFRED COPPEL, JR.     The captain of the Martian Maid stared avidly at     the torn derelict floating against the velvet void.     Here was treasure beyond his wildest dreams! How     could he know his dreams should have been nightmares?     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Gold! A magic word, even today, isn't it? Lust and gold ... they gohand in hand. Like the horsemen of the Apocalypse. And, of course,there's another word needed to make up the trilogy. You don't getany thing for nothing. So add this: Cost. Or you might call it pain,sorrow, agony. Call it what you like. It's what you pay for greattreasure....     These things were true when fabled Jason sailed the Argo beyond Colchisseeking the Fleece. They were true when men sailed the southern oceansin wooden ships. And the conquest of space hasn't changed us a bit.We're still a greedy lot....     I'm a queer one to be saying these things, but then, who has moreright? Look at me. My hair is gray and my face ... my face is a mask.The flesh hangs on my bones like a yellow cloth on a rickety frame. Iam old, old. And I wait here on my hospital cot—wait for the weight ofyears I never lived to drag me under and let me forget the awful thingsmy eyes have seen.     I'm poor, too, or else I wouldn't be here in this place of dying forold spacemen. I haven't a dime except for the pittance the HolcombFoundation calls a spaceman's pension. Yet I had millions in my hands.Treasure beyond your wildest dreams! Cursed treasure....     You smile. You are thinking that I'm just an old man, beachedearthside, spinning tall tales to impress the youngsters. Maybe,thinking about the kind of spacemen my generation produced, you havethe idea that if ever we'd so much as laid a hand on anything of valueout in space we'd not let go until Hell froze over! Well, you'reright about that. We didn't seek the spaceways for the advancement ofcivilization or any of that Foundation bushwah, you can be certain ofthat. We did it for      us     ... for Number One. That's the kind of men wewere, and we were proud of it. We hung onto what we found because therisks were high and we were entitled to keep what we could out there.But there are strange things in the sky. Things that don't respond toall of our neat little Laws and Theories. There are things that are nopart of the world of men, thick with danger—and horror.  <doc-sep>For more than a century, robotocists have been trying to build Asimov'sfamous Three Laws of Robotics into a robot brain.       First Law: A robot shall not, either through action or inaction, allowharm to come to a human being.         Second Law: A robot shall obey the orders of a human being, exceptwhen such orders conflict with the First Law     .     [15]       Third Law: A robot shall strive to protect its own existence, exceptwhen this conflicts with the First or Second Law.       Nobody has succeeded yet, because nobody has yet succeeded in definingthe term human being in such a way that the logical mind of a robotcan encompass the concept.     A traffic robot is useful only because the definition has been rigidlynarrowed down. As far as a traffic robot is concerned, human beingsare the automobiles on its highways. Woe betide any poor sap who tries,illegally, to cross a robot-controlled highway on foot. The robot'sonly concern would be with the safety of the automobiles, and if theonly way to avoid destruction of an automobile were to be by nudgingthe pedestrian aside with a fender, that's what would happen.     And, since its orders only come from one place, I suppose that atraffic robot thinks that the guy who uses that typer is an automobile.     With the first six models of the McGuire ships, the robotocistsattempted to build in the Three Laws exactly as stated. And the firstsix went insane.     If one human being says jump left, and another says jump right,the robot is unable to evaluate which human being has given the morevalid order. Feed enough confusing and conflicting data into a robotbrain, and it can begin behaving in ways that, in a human being, wouldbe called paranoia or schizophrenia or catatonia or what-have-you,depending  [16]  on the symptoms. And an insane robot is fully as dangerousas an insane human being controlling the same mechanical equipment, ifnot more so.     So the seventh model had been modified. The present McGuire's brain wasimpressed with slight modifications of the First and Second Laws.     If it is difficult to define a human being, it is much more difficultto define a      responsible     human being. One, in other words, who canbe relied upon to give wise and proper orders to a robot, who can berelied upon not to drive the robot insane.     The robotocists at Viking Spacecraft had decided to take anothertack. Very well, they'd said, if we can't define all the membersof a group, we can certainly define an individual. We'll pick oneresponsible person and build McGuire so that he will take orders onlyfrom that person.     As it turned out, I was that person. Just substitute Daniel Oakfor human being in the First and Second Laws, and you'll see howimportant I was to a certain spaceship named McGuire.  <doc-sep>III     Oh, yes, and Jamieson had a feeble paper on what he calledindividualization in marine worms. Barr, have you ever thought muchabout the larger aspects of the problem of individuality?     Jack jumped slightly. He had let his thoughts wander very far.     Not especially, sir, he mumbled.     The house was still. A few minutes after the professor's arrival,Mrs. Kesserich had gone off with an anxious glance at Jack. He knewwhy and wished he could reassure her that he would not mention theirconversation to the professor.     Kesserich had spent perhaps a half hour briefing him on the moreimportant papers delivered at the conferences. Then, almost as ifit were a teacher's trick to show up a pupil's inattention, he hadsuddenly posed this question about individuality.     You know what I mean, of course, Kesserich pressed. The factors thatmake you you, and me me.     Heredity and environment, Jack parroted like a freshman.     Kesserich nodded. Suppose—this is just speculation—that we couldcontrol heredity and environment. Then we could re-create the sameindividual at will.     Jack felt a shiver go through him. To get exactly the same pattern ofhereditary traits. That'd be far beyond us.     What about identical twins? Kesserich pointed out. And then there'sparthenogenesis to be considered. One might produce a duplicate of themother without the intervention of the male. Although his voice hadgrown more idly speculative, Kesserich seemed to Jack to be smilingsecretly. There are many examples in the lower animal forms, to saynothing of the technique by which Loeb caused a sea urchin to reproducewith no more stimulus than a salt solution.     Jack felt the hair rising on his neck. Even then you wouldn't getexactly the same pattern of hereditary traits.     Not if the parent were of very pure stock? Not if there were somespecial technique for selecting ova that would reproduce all themother's traits?     But environment would change things, Jack objected. The duplicatewould be bound to develop differently.     Is environment so important? Newman tells about a pair of identicaltwins separated from birth, unaware of each other's existence. They metby accident when they were twenty-one. Each was a telephone repairman.Each had a wife the same age. Each had a baby son. And each had a foxterrier called 'Trixie.' That's without trying to make environmentssimilar. But suppose you did try. Suppose you saw to it that each ofthem had exactly the same experiences at the same times....     For a moment it seemed to Jack that the room was dimming and wavering,becoming a dark pool in which the only motionless thing was Kesserich'ssphinx-like face.     Well, we've escaped quite far enough from Jamieson's marine worms,the biologist said, all brisk again. He said it as if Jack were theone who had led the conversation down wild and unprofitable channels.Let's get on to your project. I want to talk it over now, because Iwon't have any time for it tomorrow.     Jack looked at him blankly.     Tomorrow I must attend to a very important matter, the biologistexplained.  <doc-sep>class=chap/>    4.     Vauna, the beautiful daughter of Tomboldo, came into my life during theweeks that I lay unconscious.     I must have talked aloud much during those feverish hours of darkness.     Campbell! I would call out of a nightmare. Campbell, we're about toland. Is everything set? Check the instruments again, Campbell.     S-s-sh! The low hush of Split Campbell's voice would somehowpenetrate my dream.     The voices about me were soft. My dreams echoed the soft female voicesof this new, strange language.     Campbell, are you there?... Have you forgotten the Code, Campbell?     Quiet, Captain.     Who is it that's swabbing my face? I can't see.     It's Vauna. She's smiling at you, Captain. Can't you see her?     Is this the pretty one we saw through the telescope?     One of them.     And what of the other? There were two together. I remember—     Omosla is here too. She's Vauna's attendant. We're all looking afteryou, Captain Linden. Did you know I performed an operation to relievethe pressure on your brain? You must get well, Captain. The words ofCampbell came through insistently.     After a silence that may have lasted for hours or days, I said,Campbell, you haven't forgot the EGGWE Code?     Of course not, Captain.     Section Four?     Section Four, he repeated in a low voice, as if to pacify me and putme to sleep. Conduct of EGGWE agents toward native inhabitants: A, Noagent shall enter into any diplomatic agreement that shall be construedas binding—     I interrupted. Clause D?     He picked it up. D, no agent shall enter into a marriage contract withany native.... H-m-m. You're not trying to warn me, are you, CaptainLinden? Or are you warning      yourself     ?     At that moment my eyes opened a little. Swimming before my blurredvision was the face of Vauna. I did remember her—yes, she must havehaunted my dreams, for now my eyes burned in an effort to define herfeatures more clearly. This was indeed Vauna, who had been one of theparty of twelve, and had walked beside her father in the face of theattack. Deep within my subconscious the image of her beautiful face andfigure had lingered. I murmured a single word of answer to Campbell'squestion. Myself.     In the hours that followed, I came to know the soft footsteps of Vauna.The caverns in which she and her father and all these Benzendellapeople lived were pleasantly warm and fragrant. My misty impressions oftheir life about me were like the first impressions of a child learningabout the world into which he has been born.     Sometimes I would hear Vauna and her attendant Omosla talking together.Often when Campbell would stop in this part of the cavern to inquireabout me, Omosla would drop in also. She and Campbell were learning toconverse in simple words. And Vauna and I—yes. If I could only avoidblacking out.     I wanted to see her.     So often my eyes would refuse to open. A thousand nightmares. Spaceships shooting through meteor swarms. Stars like eyes. Eyes like stars.The eyes of Vauna, the daughter of Tomboldo. The sensitive stroke ofVauna's fingers, brushing my forehead, pressing my hand.     I regained my health gradually.     Are you quite awake? Vauna would ask me in her musical Benzendellawords. You speak better today. Your friend Campbell has brought youmore recordings of our language, so you can learn to speak more. Myfather is eager to talk with you. But you must sleep more. You arestill weak.     It gave me a weird sensation to awaken in the night, trying to adjustmyself to my surroundings. The Benzendellas were sleep-singers. Bynight they murmured mysterious little songs through their sleep.Strange harmonies whispered through the caves.     And if I stirred restlessly, the footsteps of Vauna might come to methrough the darkness. In her sleeping garments she would come to me,faintly visible in the pink light that filtered through from somecorridor. She would whisper melodious Benzendella words and tell me togo back to sleep, and I would drift into the darkness of my endlessdreams.     The day came when I awakened to see both Vauna and her father standingbefore me. Stern old Tomboldo, with his chalk-smooth face and not ahint of an eyebrow or eyelash, rapped his hand against my ribs, shookthe fiber bed lightly, and smiled. From a pocket concealed in hisflowing cape, he drew forth the musical watch, touched the button, andplayed, Trail of Stars.     I have learned to talk, I said.     You have had a long sleep.     I am well again. See, I can almost walk. But as I started to rise,the wave of blackness warned me, and I restrained my ambition. I willwalk soon.     We will have much to talk about. Your friend has pointed to the starsand told me a strange story of your coming. We have walked around theship. He has told me how it rides through the sky. I can hardly makemyself believe. Tomboldo's eyes cast upward under the strong ridge offorehead where the eyebrows should have been. He was evidently tryingto visualize the flight of a space ship. We will have much to telleach other.     I hope so, I said. Campbell and I came to learn about the      serpentriver     . I resorted to my own language for the last two words, notknowing the Benzendella equivalent.      I     made an eel-like motionwith my arm. But they didn't understand. And before I could explain,the footsteps of other Benzendellas approached, and presently I lookedaround to see that quite an audience had gathered. The most prominentfigure of the new group was the big muscular guard of the black andgreen diamond markings—Gravgak.     You get well? Gravgak said to me. His eyes drilled me closely.     I get well, I said.     The blow on the head, he said, was not meant.     I looked at him. Everyone was looking at him, and I knew this was meantto be an occasion of apology. But the light of fire in Vauna's eyestold me that she did not believe. He saw her look, and his own eyesflashed darts of defiance. With an abrupt word to me, he wheeled andstarted off. Get well!     The crowd of men and women made way for him. But in the arched doorwayhe turned. Vauna. I am ready to speak to you alone.     She started. I reached and barely touched her hand. She stopped. Iwill talk with you later, Gravgak.     Now! he shouted. Alone.     He stalked off. A moment later Vauna, after exchanging a word with herfather, excused herself from the crowd and followed Gravgak.     From the way those in the room looked, I knew this must be a dramaticmoment. It was as if she had acknowledged Gravgak as her master—or herlover. He had called for her. She had followed.     But her old father was still the master. He stepped toward the door.Vauna!... Gravgak!... Come back.     (I will always wonder what might have happened if he hadn't calledthem! Was my distrust of Gravgak justified? Had I become merely ajealous lover—or was I right in my hunch that the tall muscular guardwas a potential traitor?)     Vauna reappeared at once. I believe she was glad that she had beencalled back.     Gravgak came sullenly. At the edge of the crowd in the arched doorwayhe stood scowling.     While we are together, old Tomboldo said quietly, looking around atthe assemblage, I must tell you the decision of the council. Soon wewill move back to the other part of the world.     There were low murmurs of approval through the chamber.     We will wait a few days, Tomboldo went on, until our new friend—he pointed to me—is well enough to travel. We would never leave himhere to the mercy of the savage ones. He and his helper came throughthe sky in time to save us from being destroyed. We must never forgetthis kindness. When we ascend the      Kao-Wagwattl     , the ever moving      rope of life     , these friends shall come with us. On the back ofthe Kao-Wagwattl      they shall ride with us across the land     .  <doc-sep>  Transcriber's Note:   This etext was produced from Analog March 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.    ILLUSTRATED     BY     KRENKEL        HIS MASTER'S VOICE     ANALOG SCIENCE FACT · SCIENCE FICTION       Spaceship McGuire had lots of knowledge—but no wisdom. He wassmart—but incredibly foolish. And, as a natural consequence, tended toask questions too profound for any philosopher—questions like Who areyou?     By RANDALL GARRETT      I'd been in Ravenhurst's office on the mountain-sized planetoid calledRaven's Rest only twice before. The third time was no better; ShalimarRavenhurst was one of the smartest operators in the Belt, but when itcame to personal relationships, he was utterly incompetent. He couldmake anyone dislike him without trying.     When I entered the office, he was  [3]  sitting behind his mahogany desk,his eyes focused on the operation he was going through with a wineglassand a decanter. He didn't look up at me as he said:     Sit down, Mr. Oak. Will you have some Madeira?     I decided I might as well observe the pleasantries. There was no pointin my getting nasty until he did. Thank you, Mr. Ravenhurst, I will.     He kept his eyes focused on his work: It isn't easy to pour wine on aplanetoid where the gee-pull is measured in fractions of a centimeterper second squared. It moves slowly, like ropy molasses, but you haveto be careful not to be fooled by that. The viscosity is just as lowas ever, and if you pour it from any great height, it will go scootingright out of the glass  [4]  again. The momentum it builds up is enough tomake it splash right out again in a slow-motion gush which gets it allover the place.     Besides which, even if it didn't splash, it would take it so long tofall a few inches that you'd die of thirst waiting for it.     Ravenhurst had evolved a technique from long years of practice.He tilted the glass and the bottle toward each other, their edgestouching, like you do when you're trying to pour beer without putting ahead on it. As soon as the wine wet the glass, the adhesive forces atwork would pull more wine into the wine glass. To get capillary actionon a low-gee asteroid, you don't need a capillary, by any means. Thenegative meniscus on the wine was something to see; the first timeyou see it, you get the eerie feeling that the glass is spinning andthrowing the wine up against the walls by centrifugal force.     I took the glass he offered me (Careful! Don't slosh!) and sipped atit. Using squirt tubes would have been a hell of a lot easier andneater, but Ravenhurst liked to do things his way.     He put the stopper back in the decanter, picked up his own glass andsipped appreciatively. Not until he put it back down on the desk againdid he raise his eyes and look at me for the first time since I'd comein.     Mr. Oak, you have caused me considerable trouble.     I thought we'd hashed all that out, Mr. Ravenhurst, I said, keepingmy voice level.     [5]     So had I. But it appears that there were more ramifications to youraction than we had at first supposed. His voice had the texture ofheavy linseed oil.     He waited, as if he expected me to make some reply to that. WhenI didn't, he sighed slightly and went on. I fear that you haveinadvertently sabotaged McGuire. You were commissioned to preventsabotage, Mr. Oak, and I'm afraid that you abrogated your contract.     I just continued to keep my voice calm. If you are trying to get backthe fee you gave me, we can always take it to court. I don't thinkyou'd win.     Mr. Oak, he said heavily, I am not a fool, regardless of what yourown impression may be. If I were trying to get back that fee, I wouldhardly offer to pay you another one.     I didn't think he was a fool. You don't get into the managerialbusiness and climb to the top and stay there unless you have brains.Ravenhurst was smart, all right; it was just that, when it came topersonal relationships, he wasn't very wise.     Then stop all this yak about an abrogated contract and get to thepoint, I told him.     I shall. I was merely trying to point out to you that it is throughyour own actions that I find myself in a very trying position, and thatyour sense of honor and ethics should induce you to rectify the damage.     My honor and ethics are in fine shape, I said, but my interpretationof the concepts might not be quite  [6]  the same as yours. Get to thepoint.     He took another sip of Madeira. The robotocists at Viking tellme that, in order to prevent any further ... ah ... sabotage byunauthorized persons, the MGYR-7 was constructed so that, afteractivation, the first man who addressed orders to it would thenceforthbe considered its ... ah ... master.     As I understand it, the problem of defining the term 'human being'unambiguously to a robot is still unsolved. The robotocists felt thatit would be much easier to define a single individual. That wouldprevent the issuing of conflicting orders to a robot, provided thesingle individual were careful in giving orders himself.     Now, it appears that      you     , Mr. Oak, were the first man to speak toMcGuire after he had been activated. Is that correct?     Is that question purely rhetorical, I asked him, putting on my bestexpression of innocent interest. Or are you losing your memory? I hadexplained all that to him two weeks before, when I'd brought McGuireand the girl here, so that Ravenhurst would have a chance to cover upwhat had really happened.  <doc-sep>O'Rielly suddenly felt like turning her over his knee and whaling heruntil she couldn't sit for a year. This, mind you, he felt in an agewhere no Earth guy for a thousand years had dared raise so much as abreath against woman's supremacy in all matters. That male charactertrait, however, did not seem to be the overpowering reason whyO'Rielly, instead of laying violent hands upon this one's person, heardhimself saying in sympathetic outrage, A shame you had to go to allthat bother to get out here!     You're so kind. But I'm afraid I became rather sticky and smelly inthere.     They ought to cool the air in there with perfume! I'll drop asuggestion in the Old Woman's box first chance I get.     You're so thoughtful. And do you have bathing facilities?     That door right there. Oh, let me open it for you!     You're so sweet. Her big dark eyes glowed with such pure innocencethat O'Rielly could have torn down the universe and rebuilt it just forher.     Yes, ma'am, O'Rielly was floating on a pink cloud with heavenly musicin his head. Never felt so fine before. Except on the Venus layoverwhen he'd been roped into a dice game with a bunch of Venus lads whohad a jug to cheer one's parting with one's money.     A bell suddenly clanged fit to wake the dead while the overhead lightsflashed wildly. Only the watch room door. Only Callahan here now. Oldbuzzard had a drooped nose like a pick, chin like a shovel.     When he talked he was like digging a hole in front of himself. Well,what about that control?     What control?     Your fusion control that got itself two points low!     Oh, that little thing.     Callahan said something through his teeth, then studied O'Riellysharply. Hey, you been wetting your whistle on that Venus vino again?Lemme smell your breath! Bah. Loaded yourself full of chlorophyllagain probably. All right, stand aside whilst I see your burner.     Charmed to, Burner Chief Callahan, sir, O'Rielly said while bowinggracefully.     Higher than a swacked skunk's tail again, Callahan muttered, thensnapped back over his shoulder, Use your shower!     O'Rielly stood considering his shower door. Somehow he doubted thatBurner Chief Terrence Callahan's mood, or Captain Millicent Hatwoody's,would be improved by knowledge of she who was in O'Rielly's shower now.Not that the dear stowaway was less than charming. Quite the contrary.Oh, very quite!     You rockhead! Only Callahan back from the burner. Didn't I tell youto shower the stink off yourself? Old Woman's taking a Venus bigwigon tour the ship. Old Woman catches you like you been rassling skunksshe'll peel both our hides off. Not to mention what she'll do anywayabout your fusion control!     Burner Chief Callahan, sir, O'Rielly responded courteously, I havebeen thinking.     With what? Never mind, just keep on trying whilst I have a shower formyself here. Wherewith Callahan reached hand for O'Rielly's showerdoor.     Venus dames, O'Rielly said dreamily, don't boss anything, do they?     Callahan yelped like he'd been bit in the pants by a big Jupiter ant.O'Rielly! You trying to get both of us condemned to a Uranus moon?Callahan also shot a wild look to the intercom switch. It was in OFFposition; the flight room full of fancy gold-lace petticoats could nothave overheard from here. Nevertheless Callahan's eyes rolled like thedevil was behind him with the fork ready. O'Rielly, open your big earswhilst for your own good and mine I speak of certain matters.     Thousand years ago, it was, the first flight reached Venus. Guysgot one look at them dames. Had to bring some home or bust. So theneverybody on Earth got a look, mostly by TV only of course. That didit. Every guy on Earth began blowing his fuse over them dames. Give upthe shirt off his back, last buck in the bank, his own Earth dame orfamily—everything.     Well, that's when Earth dames took over like armies of wild catswith knots in their tails. Before the guys who'd brought the Venusdames to Earth could say anything they was taken apart too small topick up with a blotter. Earth dames wound up by flying the Venus onesback where they come from and serving notice if one ever set foot onEarth again there wouldn't be enough left of Venus to find with anelectron microscope.  <doc-sep>class=chap/>    Split Campbell and I brought our ship down to a quiet landing on thesummit of a mile-wide naked rock, and I turned to the telescope for acloser view of the strange thing we had come to see.     It shone, eighteen or twenty miles away, in the light of the lateafternoon sun. It was a long silvery serpent-like      something     thatcrawled slowly over the planet's surface.     There was no way of guessing how large it was, at this distance. Itmight have been a rope rolled into shape out of a mountain—or a chainof mountains. It might have been a river of bluish-gray dough that hadshaped itself into a great cable. Its diameter? If it had been a hollowtube, cities could have flowed through it upright without bending theirskyscrapers. It was, to the eye, an endless rope of cloud oozing alongthe surface of the land. No, not cloud, for it had the compactness ofsolid substance.     We could see it at several points among the low foothills. Even fromthis distance we could guess that it had been moving along its coursefor centuries. Moving like a sluggish snake. It followed a deep-wornpath between the nearer hills and the high jagged mountains on thehorizon.       What was it?       Split Campbell and I had been sent here to learn the answers.Our sponsor was the well known EGGWE (the Earth-Galaxy GoodWill Expeditions.) We were under the EGGWE Code. We were the firstexpedition to this planet, but we had come equipped with two importantpieces of advance information. The Keynes-Roy roving cameras (unmanned)had brought back to the Earth choice items of fact about various partsof the universe. From these photos we knew (1) that man lived on thisplanet, a humanoid closely resembling the humans of the Earth; and(2) that a vast cylindrical rope crawled the surface of this land,continuously, endlessly.     We had intentionally landed at what we guessed would be a safe distancefrom the rope. If it were a living thing, like a serpent, we preferrednot to disturb it. If it gave off heat or poisonous gases or deadlyvibrations, we meant to keep our distance. If, on the other hand, itproved to be some sort of vegetable—a vine of glacier proportions—ora river of some silvery, creamy substance—we would move in upon itgradually, gathering facts as we progressed. I could depend uponSplit to record all observable phenomena with the accuracy ofsplit-hairs.     Split was working at the reports like a drudge at this very moment.     I looked up from the telescope, expecting him to be waiting his turneagerly. I misguessed. He didn't even glance up from his books. Rareyoung Campbell! Always a man of duty, never a man of impulse!     Here Campbell, take a look at the 'rope'.     Before I finish the reports, sir? If I recall our Code, Section Two,Order of Duties upon Landing: A—     Forget the Code. Take a look at the rope while the sun's on it.... Seeit?     Yes sir.     Can you see it's moving? See the little clouds of dust coming up fromunder its belly?     Yes sir. An excellent view, Captain Linden.     What do you think of it, Split? Ever see a sight like that before?     No sir.     Well, what about it? Any comments?     Split answered me with an enthusiastic, By gollies, sir! Then, withrestraint, It's precisely what I expected from the photographs, sir.Any orders, sir?     Relax, Split! That's the order. Relax!     Thanks—thanks, Cap! That was his effort to sound informal, thoughcoming from him it was strained. His training had given him anexaggerated notion of the importance of dignity and discipline.     He was naturally so conscientious it was painful. And to top it all,his scientific habit of thought made him want to stop and weigh hiswords even when speaking of casual things such as how much sugar herequired in his coffee.     Needless to say, I had kidded him unmercifully over these traits.Across the millions of miles of space that we had recently traveled(our first voyage together) I had amused myself at his expense. Ihad sworn that he would find, in time, that he couldn't even trimhis fingernails without calipers, or comb his hair without actuallyphysically splitting the hairs that cropped up in the middle of thepart. That was when I had nicknamed him Split—and the wide ears thatstuck out from his stubble-cut blond hair had glowed with the pink ofselfconsciousness. Plainly, he liked the kidding. But if I thought Icould rescue him from the weight of dignity and duty, I was mistaken.     Now he had turned the telescope for a view far to the right. He paused.     What do you see? I asked.     I cannot say definitely. The exact scientific classification of theobject I am observing would call for more detailed scrutiny—     You're seeing some sort of object?     Yes sir.     What sort of object?     A living creature, sir—upright, wearing clothes—     A      man     ?     To all appearances, sir—     You bounder, give me that telescope!  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What are the defining traits of Captain Midas and who is he?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the backdrop of the story CAPTAIN MIDAS? [SEP] <s>On Callisto I was relieved of my command. The Admiralty Court acquittedme of the charges of negligence, but the Foundation refused me anothership. It was my ... illness. It spread from my hands, as you can see.Slowly, very slowly. So what remains for me? A hospital cot and aspaceman's pension. Those tons of gold in the sky are cursed, like mostgreat treasures. Somewhere, out in the deeps between the stars, thedust of my crew guards that golden derelict. It belongs to them now ...all of it.     But the price we pay for treasure is this. Look at me. I look eighty!I'm thirty two. And the bitterest part of the story is that peoplelaugh at me when I tell what happened. They laugh and call me mynickname. Have you heard it?     It's ... Captain Midas.   <doc-sep>  CAPTAIN MIDAS     By ALFRED COPPEL, JR.     The captain of the Martian Maid stared avidly at     the torn derelict floating against the velvet void.     Here was treasure beyond his wildest dreams! How     could he know his dreams should have been nightmares?     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Gold! A magic word, even today, isn't it? Lust and gold ... they gohand in hand. Like the horsemen of the Apocalypse. And, of course,there's another word needed to make up the trilogy. You don't getany thing for nothing. So add this: Cost. Or you might call it pain,sorrow, agony. Call it what you like. It's what you pay for greattreasure....     These things were true when fabled Jason sailed the Argo beyond Colchisseeking the Fleece. They were true when men sailed the southern oceansin wooden ships. And the conquest of space hasn't changed us a bit.We're still a greedy lot....     I'm a queer one to be saying these things, but then, who has moreright? Look at me. My hair is gray and my face ... my face is a mask.The flesh hangs on my bones like a yellow cloth on a rickety frame. Iam old, old. And I wait here on my hospital cot—wait for the weight ofyears I never lived to drag me under and let me forget the awful thingsmy eyes have seen.     I'm poor, too, or else I wouldn't be here in this place of dying forold spacemen. I haven't a dime except for the pittance the HolcombFoundation calls a spaceman's pension. Yet I had millions in my hands.Treasure beyond your wildest dreams! Cursed treasure....     You smile. You are thinking that I'm just an old man, beachedearthside, spinning tall tales to impress the youngsters. Maybe,thinking about the kind of spacemen my generation produced, you havethe idea that if ever we'd so much as laid a hand on anything of valueout in space we'd not let go until Hell froze over! Well, you'reright about that. We didn't seek the spaceways for the advancement ofcivilization or any of that Foundation bushwah, you can be certain ofthat. We did it for      us     ... for Number One. That's the kind of men wewere, and we were proud of it. We hung onto what we found because therisks were high and we were entitled to keep what we could out there.But there are strange things in the sky. Things that don't respond toall of our neat little Laws and Theories. There are things that are nopart of the world of men, thick with danger—and horror.  <doc-sep>  THE GIANTS RETURN     By ROBERT ABERNATHY     Earth set itself grimly to meet them with     corrosive fire, determined to blast them     back to the stars. But they erred in thinking     the Old Ones were too big to be clever.     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      In the last hours the star ahead had grown brighter by many magnitudes,and had changed its color from a dazzling blue through white to thenormal yellow, of a GO sun. That was the Doppler effect as the star'sradial velocity changed relative to the      Quest III     , as for forty hoursthe ship had decelerated.     They had seen many such stars come near out of the galaxy's glitteringbackdrop, and had seen them dwindle, turn red and go out as the      QuestIII     drove on its way once more, lashed by despair toward the speed oflight, leaving behind the mockery of yet another solitary and lifelessluminary unaccompanied by worlds where men might dwell. They had grownsated with the sight of wonders—of multiple systems of giant stars, ofnebulae that sprawled in empty flame across light years.     But now unwonted excitement possessed the hundred-odd members of the      Quest III's     crew. It was a subdued excitement; men and women, theycame and stood quietly gazing into the big vision screens that showedthe oncoming star, and there were wide-eyed children who had been bornin the ship and had never seen a planet. The grownups talked in lowvoices, in tones of mingled eagerness and apprehension, of what mightlie at the long journey's end. For the      Quest III     was coming home; thesun ahead was      the     Sun, whose rays had warmed their lives' beginning.  <doc-sep>   The Sense of Wonder     By MILTON LESSER     Illustrated by HARRY ROSENBAUM     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      When nobody aboard ship remembers where it's     going, how can they tell when it has arrived?      Every day for a week now, Rikud had come to the viewport to watchthe great changeless sweep of space. He could not quite explain thefeelings within him; they were so alien, so unnatural. But ever sincethe engines somewhere in the rear of the world had changed their tone,from the steady whining Rikud had heard all twenty-five years of hislife, to the sullen roar that came to his ears now, the feelings hadgrown.     If anyone else had noticed the change, he failed to mention it. Thisdisturbed Rikud, although he could not tell why. And, because he hadrealized this odd difference in himself, he kept it locked up insidehim.     Today, space looked somehow different. The stars—it was a meaninglessconcept to Rikud, but that was what everyone called the brightpinpoints of light on the black backdrop in the viewport—were notapparent in the speckled profusion Rikud had always known. Instead,there was more of the blackness, and one very bright star set apartby itself in the middle of the viewport.     If he had understood the term, Rikud would have told himself this wasodd. His head ached with the half-born thought. It was—it was—whatwas it?     Someone was clomping up the companionway behind Rikud. He turned andgreeted gray-haired old Chuls.     In five more years, the older man chided, you'll be ready to sirechildren. And all you can do in the meantime is gaze out at the stars.     Rikud knew he should be exercising now, or bathing in the rays of thehealth-lamps. It had never occurred to him that he didn't feel like it;he just didn't, without comprehending.     Chuls' reminder fostered uneasiness. Often Rikud had dreamed of thetime he would be thirty and a father. Whom would the Calculator selectas his mate? The first time this idea had occurred to him, Rikudignored it. But it came again, and each time it left him with a feelinghe could not explain. Why should he think thoughts that no other manhad? Why should he think he was thinking such thoughts, when it alwaysembroiled him in a hopeless, infinite confusion that left him with aheadache?     Chuls said, It is time for my bath in the health-rays. I saw you hereand knew it was your time, too....     His voice trailed off. Rikud knew that something which he could notexplain had entered the elder man's head for a moment, but it haddeparted almost before Chuls knew of its existence.     I'll go with you, Rikud told him.  <doc-sep>The first thing about the derelict that struck us as we drew near washer size. No ship ever built in the Foundation Yards had ever attainedsuch gargantuan proportions. She must have stretched a full thousandfeet from bow to stern, a sleek torpedo shape of somehow unspeakablealienness. Against the backdrop of the Milky Way, she gleamed fitfullyin the light of the faraway sun, the metal of her flanks grained withsomething like tiny, glittering whorls. It was as though the stuffwere somehow unstable ... seeking balance ... maybe even alive in somestrange and alien way.     It was readily apparent to all of us that she had never been built forinter-planetary flight. She was a starship. Origin unknown. An aura ofmystery surrounded her like a shroud, protecting the world that gaveher birth mutely but effectively. The distance she must have come wasunthinkable. And the time it had taken...? Aeons. Millennia. For shewas drifting, dead in space, slowly spinning end over end as she swungabout Sol in a hyperbolic orbit that would soon take her out and awayagain into the inter-stellar deeps.     Something had wounded her ... perhaps ten million years ago ... perhapsyesterday. She was gashed deeply from stem to stern with a jagged ripthat bared her mangled innards. A wandering asteroid? A meteor? Wewould never know. It gave me an uncomfortable feeling of things beyondthe ken of men as I looked at her through the port. I would never knowwhat killed her, or where she was going, or whence she came. Yet shewas mine. It made me feel like an upstart. And it made me afraid ...but of what?     We should have reported her to the nearest EMV base, but that wouldhave meant that we'd lose her. Scientists would be sent out. Men betterequipped than we to investigate the first extrasolar artifact found bymen. But I didn't report her. She was ours. She was money in the bank.Let the scientists take over after we'd put a prize crew aboard andbrought her into Callisto for salvage.... That's the way I had thingsfigured.     The Maid hove to about a hundred yards from her and hung there, dwarfedby the mighty glistening ship. I called for volunteers and we prepareda boarding party. I was thinking that her drives alone would be worthmillions. Cohn took charge and he and three of the men suited up andcrossed to her.     In an hour they were back, disappointment largely written on theirfaces.     There's nothing left of her, Captain, Cohn reported, Whatever hither tore up the innards so badly we couldn't even find the drives.She's a mess inside. Nothing left but the hull and a few storagecompartments that are still unbroken.     She was never built to carry humanoids he told us, and there wasnothing that could give us a hint of where she had come from. The hullalone was left.     He dropped two chunks of metal on my desk. I brought back some samplesof her pressure hull, he said, The whole thing is made of thisstuff....     We'll still take her in, I said, hiding my disappointment. Thecarcass will be worth money in Callisto. Have Mister Marvin andZaleski assemble a spare pulse-jet. We'll jury-rig her and bring herdown under her own power. You take charge of provisioning her. Checkthose compartments you found and install oxy-generators aboard. Whenit's done report to me in my quarters.     I picked up the two samples of gleaming metal and called for ametallurgical testing kit. I'm going to try and find out if this stuffis worth anything....     The metal was heavy—too heavy, it seemed to me, for spaceshipconstruction. But then, who was to say what conditions existed on thatdistant world where this metal was made?     Under the bright fluorescent over my work-table, the chunks of metaltorn from a random bulkhead of the starship gleamed like pale silver;those strange little whorls that I had noticed on the outer hull werethere too, like tiny magnetic lines of force, making the surface ofthe metal seem to dance. I held the stuff in my bare hand.      It had ayellowish tinge, and it was heavier     ....     Even as I watched, the metal grew yellower, and the hand that heldit grew bone weary, little tongues of fatigue licking up my forearm.Suddenly terrified, I dropped the chunk as though it were white hot. Itstruck the table with a dull thud and lay there, a rich yellow lump ofmetallic lustre.     For a long while I just sat and stared. Then I began testing, tryingall the while to quiet the trembling of my hands. I weighed it on abalance. I tested it with acids. It had changed unquestionably. Itwas no longer the same as when I had carried it into my quarters. Thewhorls of force were gone. It was no longer alive with a questingvibrancy ... it was inert, stable. From somewhere, somehow, it haddrawn the energy necessary for transmutation. The unknown metal—thestuff of which that whole mammoth spaceship from the stars wasbuilt—was now....       Gold!       I scarcely dared believe it, but there it was staring at me from mytable-top.      Gold!       I searched my mind for an explanation. Contra-terrene matter, perhaps,from some distant island universe where matter reacted differently ...drawing energy from somewhere, the energy it needed to find stabilityin its new environment. Stability as a terrene element—wonderfully,miraculously gold!     And outside, in the void beyond the Maid's ports there were tons ofthis metal that could be turned into treasure. My laughter must havebeen a wild sound in those moments of discovery....  <doc-sep>In the evening a girl brought Maitland his meal. As the door slidaside, he automatically stood up, and they stared at each other forseveral seconds.     She had the high cheekbones and almond eyes of an Oriental, skin thatglowed like gold in the evening light, yet thick coiled braids ofblonde hair that glittered like polished brass. Shorts and a sleevelessblouse of some thick, reddish, metallic-looking fabric clung to herbody, and over that she was wearing a light, ankle-length cloak of whatseemed to be white wool.     She was looking at him with palpable curiosity and something likeexpectancy. Maitland sighed and said, Hello, then glanced downself-consciously at his wrinkled green pajamas.       She smiled, put the tray of food on the table, and swept out, her cloakbillowing behind her. Maitland remained standing, staring at the closeddoor for a minute after she was gone.     Later, when he had finished the steak and corn on the cob and shreddedcarrots, and a feeling of warm well-being was diffusing from hisstomach to his extremities, he sat down on the bed to watch the sunsetand to think.     There were three questions for which he required answers before hecould formulate any plan or policy.     Where was he?     Who was Swarts?     What was the purpose of the tests he was being given?     It was possible, of course, that this was all an elaborate schemefor getting military secrets, despite Swarts' protestations to thecontrary. Maitland frowned. This place certainly didn't have theappearance of a military establishment, and so far there had beennothing to suggest the kind of interrogation to be expected fromforeign intelligence officers.     It might be better to tackle the first question first. He looked atthe Sun, a red spheroid already half below the horizon, and tried tothink of a region that had this kind of terrain. That prairie out therewas unique. Almost anywhere in the world, land like that would becultivated, not allowed to go to grass.     This might be somewhere in Africa....     He shook his head, puzzled. The Sun disappeared and its blood-huedglow began to fade from the sky. Maitland sat there, trying to gethold of the problem from an angle where it wouldn't just slip away.After a while the western sky became a screen of clear luminous blue,a backdrop for a pure white brilliant star. As always at that sight,Maitland felt his worry drain away, leaving an almost mystical sense ofpeace and an undefinable longing.     Venus, the most beautiful of the planets.     Maitland kept track of them all in their majestic paths through theconstellations, but Venus was his favorite. Time and time again hehad watched its steady climb higher and higher in the western sky,its transient rule there as evening star, its progression toward thehorizon, and loved it equally in its      alter ego     of morning star. Venuswas an old friend. An old friend....     Something icy settled on the back of his neck, ran down his spine, anddiffused into his body. He stared at the planet unbelievingly, fistsclenched, forgetting to breathe.     Last night Venus hadn't been there.     Venus was a morning star just now....       Just now!       He realized the truth in that moment.  <doc-sep>This is it, Chip said softly. You want me to keep an eye on whocomes down the passage?     Retief nodded, opened the door and stepped into the cabin. The captainlooked up from his desk, then jumped up.     What do you think you're doing, busting in here?     I hear you're planning a course change, Captain.     You've got damn big ears.     I think we'd better call in at Jorgensen's.     You do, huh? the captain sat down. I'm in command of this vessel,he said. I'm changing course for Alabaster.     I wouldn't find it convenient to go to Alabaster, Retief said. Sojust hold your course for Jorgensen's.     Not bloody likely.     Your use of the word 'bloody' is interesting, Captain. Don't try tochange course.     The captain reached for the mike on his desk, pressed the key.     Power Section, this is the captain, he said. Retief reached acrossthe desk, gripped the captain's wrist.     Tell the mate to hold his present course, he said softly.     Let go my hand, buster, the captain snarled. Eyes on Retief's, heeased a drawer open with his left hand, reached in. Retief kneed thedrawer. The captain yelped and dropped the mike.     You busted it, you—     And one to go, Retief said. Tell him.     I'm an officer of the Merchant Service!     You're a cheapjack who's sold his bridge to a pack of back-alleyhoods.     You can't put it over, hick.     Tell him.     The captain groaned and picked up the mike. Captain to Power Section,he said. Hold your present course until you hear from me. He droppedthe mike and looked up at Retief.     It's eighteen hours yet before we pick up Jorgensen Control. You goingto sit here and bend my arm the whole time?     Retief released the captain's wrist and turned to the door.     Chip, I'm locking the door. You circulate around, let me know what'sgoing on. Bring me a pot of coffee every so often. I'm sitting up witha sick friend.     Right, Mister. Keep an eye on that jasper; he's slippery.     What are you going to do? the captain demanded.     Retief settled himself in a chair.     Instead of strangling you, as you deserve, he said, I'm going tostay here and help you hold your course for Jorgensen's Worlds.     The captain looked at Retief. He laughed, a short bark.     Then I'll just stretch out and have a little nap, farmer. If you feellike dozing off sometime during the next eighteen hours, don't mind me.     Retief took out the needler and put it on the desk before him.     If anything happens that I don't like, he said, I'll wake you up.With this.  <doc-sep>The other officers of the      T.R.S. Aphrodite     were in conference withthe Captain when Cob and the girl at his side reached the flyingbridge. She was tall and dark-haired with regular features and paleblue eyes. She wore a service jumper with two silver stripes on theshoulder-straps, and even the shapeless garment could not hide theobvious trimness of her figure.     Strike's back was toward the bulkhead, and he was addressing the others.     ... and that's about the story. We are to jet within 28,000,000 milesof Sol. Orbit is trans-Mercurian hyperbolic. With Mars in opposition,we have to make a perihelion run and it won't be pleasant. But I'mcertain this old boiler can take it. I understand the old boy whodesigned her wasn't as incompetent as they say. But Space Regs arespecific about mail runs. This is important to you, Evans. Yourastrogation has to be accurate to within twenty-five miles plus orminus the shortest route. And there'll be no breaking orbit. Now becertain that the refrigeration units are checked, Mister Wilkins,especially in the hydroponic cells. Pure air is going to be important.     That's about all there is to tell you. As soon as our ratherleisurely E/O gets here, we can jet with Aunt Nelly's postcard. Henodded. That's the story. Lift ship in.... He glanced at his wristchronograph, ... in an hour and five.     The officers filed out and Cob Whitley stuck his head into the room.Captain?     Come in, Cob. Strike's dark brows knit at the sight of the uniformedgirl in the doorway.     Cob's face was sober, but hidden amusement was kindling behind hiseyes. Captain, may I present Lieutenant Hendricks? Lieutenant      I-vy     Hendricks?     Strike looked blankly at the girl.     Our new E/O, Captain, prompted Whitley.     Uh ... welcome aboard, Miss Hendricks, was all the Captain could findto say.     The girl's eyes were cold and unfriendly. Thank you, Captain. Hervoice was like cracked ice tinkling in a glass. If I may have yourpermission to inspect the drives, Captain, I      may     be able toconvince you that the designer of this vessel was not ... as you seemto think ... a senile incompetent.     Strike was perplexed, and he showed it. Why, certainly ... uh ...Miss ... but why should you be so....     The girl's voice was even colder than before as she said, HarlanHendricks, Captain, is my father.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the backdrop of the story CAPTAIN MIDAS?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What is the connection between Mister Spinelli and Captain Midas? [SEP] <s>I didn't realize it was a derelict when Spinelli first reportedit from the forward scope position. I assumed it was a Foundationship. The Holcomb Foundation was founded for the purpose ofdeveloping spaceflight, and as the years went by it took on the wholeresponsibility for the building and dispatching of space ships. Neverin history had there been any real evidence of extra-terrestrialintelligent life, and when the EMV Triangle proved barren, we all justassumed that the Universe was man's own particular oyster. That kind ofunreasoning arrogance is as hard to explain as it is to correct.     There were plenty of ships being lost in space, and immediately thatSpinelli's report from up forward got noised about the Maid every oneof us started mentally counting up his share of the salvage money. Allthis before we were within ten thousand miles of the hulk!     All spaceships look pretty much alike, but as I sat at the telescopeI saw that there was something different about this one. At such adistance I couldn't get too much detail in our small three inch glass,but I could see that the hulk was big—bigger than any ship I'd everseen before. I had the radar fixed on her and then I retired with myslide rule to Control. It wasn't long before I discovered that thederelict ship was on a near collision course, but there was somethingabout its orbit that was strange. I called Cohn, the Metering Officer,and showed him my figures.     Mister Cohn, I said, chart in hand, do these figures look right toyou?     Cohn's dark eyes lit up as they always did when he worked with figures.It didn't take him long to check me. The math is quite correct,Captain, he said. I could see that he hadn't missed the inference ofthose figures on the chart.     Assemble the ship's company, Mister Cohn, I ordered.     The assembly horn sounded throughout the Maid and I could feel the tugof the automatics taking over as the crew left their stations. Soonthey were assembled in Control.     You have all heard about Mister Spinelli's find, I said, I havecomputed the orbit and inspected the object through the glass. It seemsto be a spacer ... either abandoned or in distress.... Reaching intothe book rack above my desk I took down a copy of the Foundation's      Space Regulations     and opened it to the section concerning salvage.     Sections XVIII, Paragraph 8 of the Code Regulating InterplanetaryAstrogation and Commerce, I read, Any vessel or part of vessel foundin an abandoned or totally disabled condition in any region of spacenot subject to the sovereignty of any planet of the Earth-Venus-MarsTriangle shall be considered to be the property of the crew of thevessel locating said abandoned or disabled vessel except in such casesas the ownership of said abandoned or disabled vessel may be readilyascertained.... I looked up and closed the book. Simply stated, thatmeans that if that thing ahead of us is a derelict we are entitled toclaim it as salvage.     Unless it already belongs to someone? asked Spinelli.     That's correct Mister Spinelli, but I don't think there is much dangerof that, I replied quietly. My figures show that hulk out there camein from the direction of Coma Berenices....     There was a long silence before Zaleski shifted his two hundred poundsuneasily and gave a form to the muted fear inside me. You think ...you think it came from the      stars     , Captain?     Maybe even from beyond the stars, Cohn said in a low voice.     Looking at that circle of faces I saw the beginnings of greed. Thefirst impact of the Metering Officer's words wore off quickly and soonevery man of my crew was thinking that anything from the stars would beworth money ... lots of money.     Spinelli said, Do we look her over, Captain?     They all looked at me, waiting for my answer. I knew it would be worthplenty, and money hunger was like a fever inside me.     Certainly we look it over, Mister Spinelli, I said sharply.Certainly!  <doc-sep>A slight sound behind me made me spin around in my chair. Framed in thedoorway was the heavy figure of my Third Officer, Spinelli. His blackeyes were fastened hungrily on the lump of yellow metal on the table.He needed no explanation to tell him what it was, and it seemed to methat his very soul reached out for the stuff, so sharp and clear wasthe meaning of the expression on his heavy face.     Mister Spinelli! I snapped, In the future knock before entering myquarters!     Reluctantly his eyes left the lump of gold and met mine. From thederelict, Captain? There was an imperceptible pause between the lasttwo words.     I ignored his question and made a mental note to keep a close hand onthe rein with him. Spinelli was big and dangerous.     Speak your piece, Mister, I ordered sharply.     Mister Cohn reports the derelict ready to take aboard the prizecrew ... sir, he said slowly. I'd like to volunteer for that detail.     I might have let him go under ordinary circumstances, for he was afirst class spaceman and the handling of a jury-rigged hulk wouldneed good men. But the gold-hunger I had seen in his eyes warned meto beware. I shook my head. You will stay on board the Maid with me,Spinelli. Cohn and Zaleski will handle the starship.     Stark suspicion leaped into his eyes. I could see the wheels turningslowly in his mind. Somehow, he was thinking, I was planning to cheathim of his rightful share of the derelict treasure ship.     We will say nothing to the rest of the crew about the gold, MisterSpinelli, I said deliberately, Or you'll go to Callisto in irons. Isthat clear?     Aye, sir, murmured Spinelli. The black expression had left his faceand there was a faintly scornful smile playing about his mouth as heturned away. I began wondering then what he had in mind. It wasn't likehim to let it go at that.     Suddenly I became conscious of being very tired. My mind wasn'tfunctioning quite clearly. And my arm and hand ached painfully. Irubbed the fingers to get some life back into them, still wonderingabout Spinelli.     Spinelli talked. I saw him murmuring something to big Zaleski, andafter that there was tension in the air. Distrust.     For a few moments I pondered the advisability of making good my threatto clap Spinelli into irons, but I decided against it. In the firstplace I couldn't prove he had told Zaleski about the gold and in thesecond place I needed Spinelli to help run the Maid.     I felt that the Third Officer and Zaleski were planning something, andI was just as sure that Spinelli was watching Zaleski to see to it thatthere was no double-cross.     I figured that I could handle the Third Officer alone so I assigned therest, Marvin and Chelly, to accompany Cohn and Zaleski onto the hulk.That way Zaleski would be outnumbered if he tried to skip with thetreasure ship. But, of course, I couldn't risk telling them that theywere to be handling a vessel practically made of gold.     I was in agony. I didn't want to let anyone get out of my sight withthat starship, and at the same time I couldn't leave the Maid. FinallyI had to let Cohn take command of the prize crew, but not before I hadset the radar finder on the Maid's prow squarely on the derelict.  <doc-sep>Together, Spinelli and I watched the Maid's crew vanish into the mawof the alien ship and get her under way. There was a flicker of bluishfire from her jury-rigged tubes astern, and then she was vanishing in agreat arc toward the bright gleam of Jupiter, far below us. The Maidfollowed under a steady one G of acceleration with most of her controlson automatic.     Boats of the Martian Maid's class, you may remember, carried a sixinch supersonic projector abaft the astrogation turret. These werenasty weapons for use against organic life only. They would reduce aman to jelly at fifty thousand yards. Let it be said to my credit thatit wasn't I who thought of hooking the gun into the radar finder andkeeping it aimed dead at the derelict. That was Spinelli's insuranceagainst Zaleski.     When I discovered it I felt the rage mount in me. He was willing toblast every one of his shipmates into pulp should the hulk vary fromthe orbit we'd laid out for her. He wasn't letting anything comebetween him and that mountain of gold.     Then I began thinking about it. Suppose now, just suppose, that Zaleskitold the rest of the crew about the gold. It wouldn't be too hardfor the derelict to break away from the Maid, and there were plentyof places in the EMV Triangle where a renegade crew with a thousandtons of gold would be welcomed with open arms and no questions asked.Suspicion began to eat at me. Could Zaleski and Cohn have dreamed upa little switch to keep the treasure ship for themselves? It hadn'tseemed likely before, but now—     The gun-pointer remained as it was.     As the days passed and we reached turn-over with the hulk still wellwithin visual range, I noticed a definite decrease in the number ofmessages from Cohn. The Aldis Lamps no longer blinked back at the Maideight or ten times a day, and I began to really regret not having takenthe time to equip the starship with UHF radio communicators.     Each night I slept with a hunk of yellow gold under my bunk, andridiculously I fondled the stuff and dreamed of all the things I wouldhave when the starship was cut up and sold.     My weariness grew. It became almost chronic, and I soon wondered ifI hadn't picked up a touch of space-radiation fever. The flesh of myhands seemed paler than it had been. My arms felt heavy. I determinedto report myself to the Foundation medics on Callisto. There's notelling what can happen to a man in space....     Two days past turn-over the messages from the derelict came throughgarbled. Spinelli cursed and said that he couldn't read their signal.Taking the Aldis from him I tried to raise them and failed. Two hourslater I was still failing and Spinelli's black eyes glittered with ananimal suspicion.     They're faking!     Like hell they are! I snapped irritably, Something's gone wrong....     Zaleski's gone wrong, that's what!     I turned to face him, fury snapping inside of me. Then you did disobeymy orders. You told him about the gold!     Sure I did, he sneered. Did you expect me to shut up and let youland the ship yourself and claim Captain's share?      I     found her, andshe's mine!     I fought to control my temper and said: Let's see what's going on inher before deciding who gets what, Mister Spinelli.     Spinelli bit his thick lips and did not reply. His eyes were fixed onthe image of the starship on the viewplate.     A light blinked erratically within the dark cut of its wounded side.     Get this down, Spinelli!     The habit of taking orders was still in him, and he muttered: Aye ...sir.     The light was winking out a message, but feebly, as though the handthat held the lamp were shaking and the mind conceiving the words werefailing.     CONTROL ... LOST ... CAN'T ... NO ... STRENGTH ... LEFT ... SHIP ...WALLS ... ALL ... ALL GOLD ... GOLD ... SOMETHING ... HAPPENING ...CAN'T ... UNDERSTAND ... WHA.... The light stopped flashing, abruptly,in mid-word.     What the hell? demanded Spinelli thickly.     Order them to heave to, Mister, I ordered.     He clicked the Aldis at them. The only response was a wild swerve inthe star-ship's course. She left the orbit we had set for her as thoughthe hands that guided her had fallen away from the control.     Spinelli dropped the Aldis and rushed to the control panel to make thecorrections in the Maid's course that were needed to keep the hulk insight.     Those skunks! Double crossing rats! he breathed furiously. Theywon't shake loose that easy! His hands started down for the firingconsole of the supersonic rifle.     I caught the movement from the corner of my eye.           Spinelli!          My shout hung in the still air of the control room as I knocked himaway from the panel.     Get to your quarters! I cracked.     He didn't say a thing, but his big shoulders hunched angrily andhe moved across the deck toward me, his hands opening and closingspasmodically. His eyes were wild with rage and avarice.     You'll hang for mutiny, Spinelli! I said.  <doc-sep>On Callisto I was relieved of my command. The Admiralty Court acquittedme of the charges of negligence, but the Foundation refused me anothership. It was my ... illness. It spread from my hands, as you can see.Slowly, very slowly. So what remains for me? A hospital cot and aspaceman's pension. Those tons of gold in the sky are cursed, like mostgreat treasures. Somewhere, out in the deeps between the stars, thedust of my crew guards that golden derelict. It belongs to them now ...all of it.     But the price we pay for treasure is this. Look at me. I look eighty!I'm thirty two. And the bitterest part of the story is that peoplelaugh at me when I tell what happened. They laugh and call me mynickname. Have you heard it?     It's ... Captain Midas.   <doc-sep>The alien clicked both pincers with a sharp report, and in the sameinstant Retief half-turned to the left, leaned away from the alienand drove his right foot against the slender leg above the bulbousknee-joint. Skaw screeched and floundered, greenish fluid spatteringfrom the burst joint.     I told you he was brittle, Retief said. Next time you invite piratesaboard, don't bother to call.     Jesus, what did you do! They'll kill us! the captain gasped, staringat the figure flopping on the floor.     Cart poor old Skaw back to his boat, Retief said. Tell him to passthe word. No more illegal entry and search of Terrestrial vessels inTerrestrial space.     Hey, Chip said. He's quit kicking.     The captain bent over Skaw, gingerly rolled him over. He leaned closeand sniffed.     He's dead. The captain stared at Retief. We're all dead men, hesaid. These Soetti got no mercy.     They won't need it. Tell 'em to sheer off; their fun is over.     They got no more emotions than a blue crab—     You bluff easily, Captain. Show a few guns as you hand the body back.We know their secret now.     What secret? I—     Don't be no dumber than you got to, Cap'n, Chip said. Sweaties dieeasy; that's the secret.     Maybe you got a point, the captain said, looking at Retief. All theygot's a three-man scout. It could work.     He went out, came back with two crewmen. They hauled the dead aliengingerly into the hall.     Maybe I can run a bluff on the Soetti, the captain said, looking backfrom the door. But I'll be back to see you later.     You don't scare us, Cap'n, Chip said. Him and Mr. Tony and all hisgoons. You hit 'em where they live, that time. They're pals o' theseSweaties. Runnin' some kind o' crooked racket.     You'd better take the captain's advice, Chip. There's no point in yourgetting involved in my problems.     They'd of killed you before now, Mister, if they had any guts. That'swhere we got it over these monkeys. They got no guts.     They act scared, Chip. Scared men are killers.     They don't scare me none. Chip picked up the tray. I'll scout arounda little and see what's goin' on. If the Sweaties figure to do anythingabout that Skaw feller they'll have to move fast; they won't trynothin' close to port.     Don't worry, Chip. I have reason to be pretty sure they won't doanything to attract a lot of attention in this sector just now.     Chip looked at Retief. You ain't no tourist, Mister. I know that much.You didn't come out here for fun, did you?     That, Retief said, would be a hard one to answer.      IV     Retief awoke at a tap on his door.     It's me, Mister. Chip.     Come on in.     The chef entered the room, locking the door.     You shoulda had that door locked. He stood by the door, listening,then turned to Retief.     You want to get to Jorgensen's perty bad, don't you, Mister?     That's right, Chip.     Mr. Tony give the captain a real hard time about old Skaw. TheSweaties didn't say nothin'. Didn't even act surprised, just took theremains and pushed off. But Mr. Tony and that other crook they callMarbles, they was fit to be tied. Took the cap'n in his cabin andtalked loud at him fer half a hour. Then the cap'n come out and givesome orders to the Mate.     Retief sat up and reached for a cigar.     Mr. Tony and Skaw were pals, eh?     He hated Skaw's guts. But with him it was business. Mister, you got agun?     A 2mm needler. Why?     The orders cap'n give was to change course fer Alabaster. We'reby-passin' Jorgensen's Worlds. We'll feel the course change any minute.     Retief lit the cigar, reached under the mattress and took out ashort-barreled pistol. He dropped it in his pocket, looked at Chip.     Maybe it was a good thought, at that. Which way to the Captain'scabin?  <doc-sep>  CAPTAIN MIDAS     By ALFRED COPPEL, JR.     The captain of the Martian Maid stared avidly at     the torn derelict floating against the velvet void.     Here was treasure beyond his wildest dreams! How     could he know his dreams should have been nightmares?     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Gold! A magic word, even today, isn't it? Lust and gold ... they gohand in hand. Like the horsemen of the Apocalypse. And, of course,there's another word needed to make up the trilogy. You don't getany thing for nothing. So add this: Cost. Or you might call it pain,sorrow, agony. Call it what you like. It's what you pay for greattreasure....     These things were true when fabled Jason sailed the Argo beyond Colchisseeking the Fleece. They were true when men sailed the southern oceansin wooden ships. And the conquest of space hasn't changed us a bit.We're still a greedy lot....     I'm a queer one to be saying these things, but then, who has moreright? Look at me. My hair is gray and my face ... my face is a mask.The flesh hangs on my bones like a yellow cloth on a rickety frame. Iam old, old. And I wait here on my hospital cot—wait for the weight ofyears I never lived to drag me under and let me forget the awful thingsmy eyes have seen.     I'm poor, too, or else I wouldn't be here in this place of dying forold spacemen. I haven't a dime except for the pittance the HolcombFoundation calls a spaceman's pension. Yet I had millions in my hands.Treasure beyond your wildest dreams! Cursed treasure....     You smile. You are thinking that I'm just an old man, beachedearthside, spinning tall tales to impress the youngsters. Maybe,thinking about the kind of spacemen my generation produced, you havethe idea that if ever we'd so much as laid a hand on anything of valueout in space we'd not let go until Hell froze over! Well, you'reright about that. We didn't seek the spaceways for the advancement ofcivilization or any of that Foundation bushwah, you can be certain ofthat. We did it for      us     ... for Number One. That's the kind of men wewere, and we were proud of it. We hung onto what we found because therisks were high and we were entitled to keep what we could out there.But there are strange things in the sky. Things that don't respond toall of our neat little Laws and Theories. There are things that are nopart of the world of men, thick with danger—and horror.  <doc-sep>Five minutes passed before the door rattled and burst open.     Retief looked up. A gaunt leathery-skinned man wearing white ducks, ablue turtleneck sweater and a peaked cap tilted raffishly over one eyestared at Retief.     Is this the joker? he grated.     The thick-necked man edged past him, looked at Retief and snorted,That's him, sure.     I'm captain of this vessel, the first man said. You've got twominutes to haul your freight out of here, buster.     When you can spare the time from your other duties, Retief said,take a look at Section Three, Paragraph One, of the Uniform Code.That spells out the law on confirmed space on vessels engaged ininterplanetary commerce.     A space lawyer. The captain turned. Throw him out, boys.     Two big men edged into the cabin, looking at Retief.     Go on, pitch him out, the captain snapped.     Retief put his cigar in an ashtray, and swung his feet off the bunk.     Don't try it, he said softly.     One of the two wiped his nose on a sleeve, spat on his right palm, andstepped forward, then hesitated.     Hey, he said. This the guy tossed the trunk off the wall?     That's him, the thick-necked man called. Spilled Mr. Tony'spossessions right on the deck.     Deal me out, the bouncer said. He can stay put as long as he wantsto. I signed on to move cargo. Let's go, Moe.     You'd better be getting back to the bridge, Captain, Retief said.We're due to lift in twenty minutes.     The thick-necked man and the Captain both shouted at once. TheCaptain's voice prevailed.     —twenty minutes ... uniform Code ... gonna do?     Close the door as you leave, Retief said.     The thick-necked man paused at the door. We'll see you when you comeout.      III     Four waiters passed Retief's table without stopping. A fifth leanedagainst the wall nearby, a menu under his arm.     At a table across the room, the Captain, now wearing a dress uniformand with his thin red hair neatly parted, sat with a table of malepassengers. He talked loudly and laughed frequently, casting occasionalglances Retief's way.     A panel opened in the wall behind Retief's chair. Bright blue eyespeered out from under a white chef's cap.     Givin' you the cold shoulder, heh, Mister?     Looks like it, old-timer, Retief said. Maybe I'd better go join theskipper. His party seems to be having all the fun.     Feller has to be mighty careless who he eats with to set over there.     I see your point.     You set right where you're at, Mister. I'll rustle you up a plate.     Five minutes later, Retief cut into a thirty-two ounce Delmonico backedup with mushrooms and garlic butter.     I'm Chip, the chef said. I don't like the Cap'n. You can tell him Isaid so. Don't like his friends, either. Don't like them dern Sweaties,look at a man like he was a worm.     You've got the right idea on frying a steak, Chip. And you've got theright idea on the Soetti, too, Retief said. He poured red wine into aglass. Here's to you.     Dern right, Chip said. Dunno who ever thought up broiling 'em.Steaks, that is. I got a Baked Alaska coming up in here for dessert.You like brandy in yer coffee?     Chip, you're a genius.     Like to see a feller eat, Chip said. I gotta go now. If you needanything, holler.     Retief ate slowly. Time always dragged on shipboard. Four days toJorgensen's Worlds. Then, if Magnan's information was correct,there would be four days to prepare for the Soetti attack. It was atemptation to scan the tapes built into the handle of his suitcase. Itwould be good to know what Jorgensen's Worlds would be up against.     Retief finished the steak, and the chef passed out the baked Alaska andcoffee. Most of the other passengers had left the dining room. Mr. Tonyand his retainers still sat at the Captain's table.     As Retief watched, four men arose from the table and sauntered acrossthe room. The first in line, a stony-faced thug with a broken ear, tooka cigar from his mouth as he reached the table. He dipped the lightedend in Retief's coffee, looked at it, and dropped it on the tablecloth.     The others came up, Mr. Tony trailing.     You must want to get to Jorgensen's pretty bad, the thug said in agrating voice. What's your game, hick?     Retief looked at the coffee cup, picked it up.     I don't think I want my coffee, he said. He looked at the thug. Youdrink it.     The thug squinted at Retief. A wise hick, he began.     With a flick of the wrist, Retief tossed the coffee into the thug'sface, then stood and slammed a straight right to the chin. The thugwent down.     Retief looked at Mr. Tony, still standing open-mouthed.     You can take your playmates away now, Tony, he said. And don'tbother to come around yourself. You're not funny enough.     Mr. Tony found his voice.     Take him, Marbles! he growled.     The thick-necked man slipped a hand inside his tunic and brought out along-bladed knife. He licked his lips and moved in.     Retief heard the panel open beside him.     Here you go, Mister, Chip said. Retief darted a glance; a well-honedfrench knife lay on the sill.     Thanks, Chip, Retief said. I won't need it for these punks.     Thick-neck lunged and Retief hit him square in the face, knocking himunder the table. The other man stepped back, fumbling a power pistolfrom his shoulder holster.     Aim that at me, and I'll kill you, Retief said.     Go on, burn him! Mr. Tony shouted. Behind him, the captain appeared,white-faced.     Put that away, you! he yelled. What kind of—     Shut up, Mr. Tony said. Put it away, Hoany. We'll fix this bumlater.     Not on this vessel, you won't, the captain said shakily. I got mycharter to consider.     Ram your charter, Hoany said harshly. You won't be needing it long.     Button your floppy mouth, damn you! Mr. Tony snapped. He looked atthe man on the floor. Get Marbles out of here. I ought to dump theslob.     He turned and walked away. The captain signaled and two waiters cameup. Retief watched as they carted the casualty from the dining room.     The panel opened.     I usta be about your size, when I was your age, Chip said. Youhandled them pansies right. I wouldn't give 'em the time o' day.     How about a fresh cup of coffee, Chip? Retief said.     Sure, Mister. Anything else?     I'll think of something, Retief said. This is shaping up into one ofthose long days.  <doc-sep>This is it, Chip said softly. You want me to keep an eye on whocomes down the passage?     Retief nodded, opened the door and stepped into the cabin. The captainlooked up from his desk, then jumped up.     What do you think you're doing, busting in here?     I hear you're planning a course change, Captain.     You've got damn big ears.     I think we'd better call in at Jorgensen's.     You do, huh? the captain sat down. I'm in command of this vessel,he said. I'm changing course for Alabaster.     I wouldn't find it convenient to go to Alabaster, Retief said. Sojust hold your course for Jorgensen's.     Not bloody likely.     Your use of the word 'bloody' is interesting, Captain. Don't try tochange course.     The captain reached for the mike on his desk, pressed the key.     Power Section, this is the captain, he said. Retief reached acrossthe desk, gripped the captain's wrist.     Tell the mate to hold his present course, he said softly.     Let go my hand, buster, the captain snarled. Eyes on Retief's, heeased a drawer open with his left hand, reached in. Retief kneed thedrawer. The captain yelped and dropped the mike.     You busted it, you—     And one to go, Retief said. Tell him.     I'm an officer of the Merchant Service!     You're a cheapjack who's sold his bridge to a pack of back-alleyhoods.     You can't put it over, hick.     Tell him.     The captain groaned and picked up the mike. Captain to Power Section,he said. Hold your present course until you hear from me. He droppedthe mike and looked up at Retief.     It's eighteen hours yet before we pick up Jorgensen Control. You goingto sit here and bend my arm the whole time?     Retief released the captain's wrist and turned to the door.     Chip, I'm locking the door. You circulate around, let me know what'sgoing on. Bring me a pot of coffee every so often. I'm sitting up witha sick friend.     Right, Mister. Keep an eye on that jasper; he's slippery.     What are you going to do? the captain demanded.     Retief settled himself in a chair.     Instead of strangling you, as you deserve, he said, I'm going tostay here and help you hold your course for Jorgensen's Worlds.     The captain looked at Retief. He laughed, a short bark.     Then I'll just stretch out and have a little nap, farmer. If you feellike dozing off sometime during the next eighteen hours, don't mind me.     Retief took out the needler and put it on the desk before him.     If anything happens that I don't like, he said, I'll wake you up.With this.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What is the connection between Mister Spinelli and Captain Midas?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"
"What does the mystery metal found on the starship signify in Captain Midas? [SEP] <s>The first thing about the derelict that struck us as we drew near washer size. No ship ever built in the Foundation Yards had ever attainedsuch gargantuan proportions. She must have stretched a full thousandfeet from bow to stern, a sleek torpedo shape of somehow unspeakablealienness. Against the backdrop of the Milky Way, she gleamed fitfullyin the light of the faraway sun, the metal of her flanks grained withsomething like tiny, glittering whorls. It was as though the stuffwere somehow unstable ... seeking balance ... maybe even alive in somestrange and alien way.     It was readily apparent to all of us that she had never been built forinter-planetary flight. She was a starship. Origin unknown. An aura ofmystery surrounded her like a shroud, protecting the world that gaveher birth mutely but effectively. The distance she must have come wasunthinkable. And the time it had taken...? Aeons. Millennia. For shewas drifting, dead in space, slowly spinning end over end as she swungabout Sol in a hyperbolic orbit that would soon take her out and awayagain into the inter-stellar deeps.     Something had wounded her ... perhaps ten million years ago ... perhapsyesterday. She was gashed deeply from stem to stern with a jagged ripthat bared her mangled innards. A wandering asteroid? A meteor? Wewould never know. It gave me an uncomfortable feeling of things beyondthe ken of men as I looked at her through the port. I would never knowwhat killed her, or where she was going, or whence she came. Yet shewas mine. It made me feel like an upstart. And it made me afraid ...but of what?     We should have reported her to the nearest EMV base, but that wouldhave meant that we'd lose her. Scientists would be sent out. Men betterequipped than we to investigate the first extrasolar artifact found bymen. But I didn't report her. She was ours. She was money in the bank.Let the scientists take over after we'd put a prize crew aboard andbrought her into Callisto for salvage.... That's the way I had thingsfigured.     The Maid hove to about a hundred yards from her and hung there, dwarfedby the mighty glistening ship. I called for volunteers and we prepareda boarding party. I was thinking that her drives alone would be worthmillions. Cohn took charge and he and three of the men suited up andcrossed to her.     In an hour they were back, disappointment largely written on theirfaces.     There's nothing left of her, Captain, Cohn reported, Whatever hither tore up the innards so badly we couldn't even find the drives.She's a mess inside. Nothing left but the hull and a few storagecompartments that are still unbroken.     She was never built to carry humanoids he told us, and there wasnothing that could give us a hint of where she had come from. The hullalone was left.     He dropped two chunks of metal on my desk. I brought back some samplesof her pressure hull, he said, The whole thing is made of thisstuff....     We'll still take her in, I said, hiding my disappointment. Thecarcass will be worth money in Callisto. Have Mister Marvin andZaleski assemble a spare pulse-jet. We'll jury-rig her and bring herdown under her own power. You take charge of provisioning her. Checkthose compartments you found and install oxy-generators aboard. Whenit's done report to me in my quarters.     I picked up the two samples of gleaming metal and called for ametallurgical testing kit. I'm going to try and find out if this stuffis worth anything....     The metal was heavy—too heavy, it seemed to me, for spaceshipconstruction. But then, who was to say what conditions existed on thatdistant world where this metal was made?     Under the bright fluorescent over my work-table, the chunks of metaltorn from a random bulkhead of the starship gleamed like pale silver;those strange little whorls that I had noticed on the outer hull werethere too, like tiny magnetic lines of force, making the surface ofthe metal seem to dance. I held the stuff in my bare hand.      It had ayellowish tinge, and it was heavier     ....     Even as I watched, the metal grew yellower, and the hand that heldit grew bone weary, little tongues of fatigue licking up my forearm.Suddenly terrified, I dropped the chunk as though it were white hot. Itstruck the table with a dull thud and lay there, a rich yellow lump ofmetallic lustre.     For a long while I just sat and stared. Then I began testing, tryingall the while to quiet the trembling of my hands. I weighed it on abalance. I tested it with acids. It had changed unquestionably. Itwas no longer the same as when I had carried it into my quarters. Thewhorls of force were gone. It was no longer alive with a questingvibrancy ... it was inert, stable. From somewhere, somehow, it haddrawn the energy necessary for transmutation. The unknown metal—thestuff of which that whole mammoth spaceship from the stars wasbuilt—was now....       Gold!       I scarcely dared believe it, but there it was staring at me from mytable-top.      Gold!       I searched my mind for an explanation. Contra-terrene matter, perhaps,from some distant island universe where matter reacted differently ...drawing energy from somewhere, the energy it needed to find stabilityin its new environment. Stability as a terrene element—wonderfully,miraculously gold!     And outside, in the void beyond the Maid's ports there were tons ofthis metal that could be turned into treasure. My laughter must havebeen a wild sound in those moments of discovery....  <doc-sep>On Callisto I was relieved of my command. The Admiralty Court acquittedme of the charges of negligence, but the Foundation refused me anothership. It was my ... illness. It spread from my hands, as you can see.Slowly, very slowly. So what remains for me? A hospital cot and aspaceman's pension. Those tons of gold in the sky are cursed, like mostgreat treasures. Somewhere, out in the deeps between the stars, thedust of my crew guards that golden derelict. It belongs to them now ...all of it.     But the price we pay for treasure is this. Look at me. I look eighty!I'm thirty two. And the bitterest part of the story is that peoplelaugh at me when I tell what happened. They laugh and call me mynickname. Have you heard it?     It's ... Captain Midas.   <doc-sep>  CAPTAIN MIDAS     By ALFRED COPPEL, JR.     The captain of the Martian Maid stared avidly at     the torn derelict floating against the velvet void.     Here was treasure beyond his wildest dreams! How     could he know his dreams should have been nightmares?     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Planet Stories Fall 1949.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      Gold! A magic word, even today, isn't it? Lust and gold ... they gohand in hand. Like the horsemen of the Apocalypse. And, of course,there's another word needed to make up the trilogy. You don't getany thing for nothing. So add this: Cost. Or you might call it pain,sorrow, agony. Call it what you like. It's what you pay for greattreasure....     These things were true when fabled Jason sailed the Argo beyond Colchisseeking the Fleece. They were true when men sailed the southern oceansin wooden ships. And the conquest of space hasn't changed us a bit.We're still a greedy lot....     I'm a queer one to be saying these things, but then, who has moreright? Look at me. My hair is gray and my face ... my face is a mask.The flesh hangs on my bones like a yellow cloth on a rickety frame. Iam old, old. And I wait here on my hospital cot—wait for the weight ofyears I never lived to drag me under and let me forget the awful thingsmy eyes have seen.     I'm poor, too, or else I wouldn't be here in this place of dying forold spacemen. I haven't a dime except for the pittance the HolcombFoundation calls a spaceman's pension. Yet I had millions in my hands.Treasure beyond your wildest dreams! Cursed treasure....     You smile. You are thinking that I'm just an old man, beachedearthside, spinning tall tales to impress the youngsters. Maybe,thinking about the kind of spacemen my generation produced, you havethe idea that if ever we'd so much as laid a hand on anything of valueout in space we'd not let go until Hell froze over! Well, you'reright about that. We didn't seek the spaceways for the advancement ofcivilization or any of that Foundation bushwah, you can be certain ofthat. We did it for      us     ... for Number One. That's the kind of men wewere, and we were proud of it. We hung onto what we found because therisks were high and we were entitled to keep what we could out there.But there are strange things in the sky. Things that don't respond toall of our neat little Laws and Theories. There are things that are nopart of the world of men, thick with danger—and horror.  <doc-sep>A slight sound behind me made me spin around in my chair. Framed in thedoorway was the heavy figure of my Third Officer, Spinelli. His blackeyes were fastened hungrily on the lump of yellow metal on the table.He needed no explanation to tell him what it was, and it seemed to methat his very soul reached out for the stuff, so sharp and clear wasthe meaning of the expression on his heavy face.     Mister Spinelli! I snapped, In the future knock before entering myquarters!     Reluctantly his eyes left the lump of gold and met mine. From thederelict, Captain? There was an imperceptible pause between the lasttwo words.     I ignored his question and made a mental note to keep a close hand onthe rein with him. Spinelli was big and dangerous.     Speak your piece, Mister, I ordered sharply.     Mister Cohn reports the derelict ready to take aboard the prizecrew ... sir, he said slowly. I'd like to volunteer for that detail.     I might have let him go under ordinary circumstances, for he was afirst class spaceman and the handling of a jury-rigged hulk wouldneed good men. But the gold-hunger I had seen in his eyes warned meto beware. I shook my head. You will stay on board the Maid with me,Spinelli. Cohn and Zaleski will handle the starship.     Stark suspicion leaped into his eyes. I could see the wheels turningslowly in his mind. Somehow, he was thinking, I was planning to cheathim of his rightful share of the derelict treasure ship.     We will say nothing to the rest of the crew about the gold, MisterSpinelli, I said deliberately, Or you'll go to Callisto in irons. Isthat clear?     Aye, sir, murmured Spinelli. The black expression had left his faceand there was a faintly scornful smile playing about his mouth as heturned away. I began wondering then what he had in mind. It wasn't likehim to let it go at that.     Suddenly I became conscious of being very tired. My mind wasn'tfunctioning quite clearly. And my arm and hand ached painfully. Irubbed the fingers to get some life back into them, still wonderingabout Spinelli.     Spinelli talked. I saw him murmuring something to big Zaleski, andafter that there was tension in the air. Distrust.     For a few moments I pondered the advisability of making good my threatto clap Spinelli into irons, but I decided against it. In the firstplace I couldn't prove he had told Zaleski about the gold and in thesecond place I needed Spinelli to help run the Maid.     I felt that the Third Officer and Zaleski were planning something, andI was just as sure that Spinelli was watching Zaleski to see to it thatthere was no double-cross.     I figured that I could handle the Third Officer alone so I assigned therest, Marvin and Chelly, to accompany Cohn and Zaleski onto the hulk.That way Zaleski would be outnumbered if he tried to skip with thetreasure ship. But, of course, I couldn't risk telling them that theywere to be handling a vessel practically made of gold.     I was in agony. I didn't want to let anyone get out of my sight withthat starship, and at the same time I couldn't leave the Maid. FinallyI had to let Cohn take command of the prize crew, but not before I hadset the radar finder on the Maid's prow squarely on the derelict.  <doc-sep>Together, Spinelli and I watched the Maid's crew vanish into the mawof the alien ship and get her under way. There was a flicker of bluishfire from her jury-rigged tubes astern, and then she was vanishing in agreat arc toward the bright gleam of Jupiter, far below us. The Maidfollowed under a steady one G of acceleration with most of her controlson automatic.     Boats of the Martian Maid's class, you may remember, carried a sixinch supersonic projector abaft the astrogation turret. These werenasty weapons for use against organic life only. They would reduce aman to jelly at fifty thousand yards. Let it be said to my credit thatit wasn't I who thought of hooking the gun into the radar finder andkeeping it aimed dead at the derelict. That was Spinelli's insuranceagainst Zaleski.     When I discovered it I felt the rage mount in me. He was willing toblast every one of his shipmates into pulp should the hulk vary fromthe orbit we'd laid out for her. He wasn't letting anything comebetween him and that mountain of gold.     Then I began thinking about it. Suppose now, just suppose, that Zaleskitold the rest of the crew about the gold. It wouldn't be too hardfor the derelict to break away from the Maid, and there were plentyof places in the EMV Triangle where a renegade crew with a thousandtons of gold would be welcomed with open arms and no questions asked.Suspicion began to eat at me. Could Zaleski and Cohn have dreamed upa little switch to keep the treasure ship for themselves? It hadn'tseemed likely before, but now—     The gun-pointer remained as it was.     As the days passed and we reached turn-over with the hulk still wellwithin visual range, I noticed a definite decrease in the number ofmessages from Cohn. The Aldis Lamps no longer blinked back at the Maideight or ten times a day, and I began to really regret not having takenthe time to equip the starship with UHF radio communicators.     Each night I slept with a hunk of yellow gold under my bunk, andridiculously I fondled the stuff and dreamed of all the things I wouldhave when the starship was cut up and sold.     My weariness grew. It became almost chronic, and I soon wondered ifI hadn't picked up a touch of space-radiation fever. The flesh of myhands seemed paler than it had been. My arms felt heavy. I determinedto report myself to the Foundation medics on Callisto. There's notelling what can happen to a man in space....     Two days past turn-over the messages from the derelict came throughgarbled. Spinelli cursed and said that he couldn't read their signal.Taking the Aldis from him I tried to raise them and failed. Two hourslater I was still failing and Spinelli's black eyes glittered with ananimal suspicion.     They're faking!     Like hell they are! I snapped irritably, Something's gone wrong....     Zaleski's gone wrong, that's what!     I turned to face him, fury snapping inside of me. Then you did disobeymy orders. You told him about the gold!     Sure I did, he sneered. Did you expect me to shut up and let youland the ship yourself and claim Captain's share?      I     found her, andshe's mine!     I fought to control my temper and said: Let's see what's going on inher before deciding who gets what, Mister Spinelli.     Spinelli bit his thick lips and did not reply. His eyes were fixed onthe image of the starship on the viewplate.     A light blinked erratically within the dark cut of its wounded side.     Get this down, Spinelli!     The habit of taking orders was still in him, and he muttered: Aye ...sir.     The light was winking out a message, but feebly, as though the handthat held the lamp were shaking and the mind conceiving the words werefailing.     CONTROL ... LOST ... CAN'T ... NO ... STRENGTH ... LEFT ... SHIP ...WALLS ... ALL ... ALL GOLD ... GOLD ... SOMETHING ... HAPPENING ...CAN'T ... UNDERSTAND ... WHA.... The light stopped flashing, abruptly,in mid-word.     What the hell? demanded Spinelli thickly.     Order them to heave to, Mister, I ordered.     He clicked the Aldis at them. The only response was a wild swerve inthe star-ship's course. She left the orbit we had set for her as thoughthe hands that guided her had fallen away from the control.     Spinelli dropped the Aldis and rushed to the control panel to make thecorrections in the Maid's course that were needed to keep the hulk insight.     Those skunks! Double crossing rats! he breathed furiously. Theywon't shake loose that easy! His hands started down for the firingconsole of the supersonic rifle.     I caught the movement from the corner of my eye.           Spinelli!          My shout hung in the still air of the control room as I knocked himaway from the panel.     Get to your quarters! I cracked.     He didn't say a thing, but his big shoulders hunched angrily andhe moved across the deck toward me, his hands opening and closingspasmodically. His eyes were wild with rage and avarice.     You'll hang for mutiny, Spinelli! I said.  <doc-sep>   Spawning Ground     By LESTER DEL REY     They weren't human. They were something     more—and something less—they were,     in short, humanity's hopes for survival!     [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from     Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1961.     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]      The Starship      Pandora     creaked and groaned as her landing pads settledunevenly in the mucky surface of the ugly world outside. She seemed tobe restless to end her fool's errand here, two hundred light years fromthe waiting hordes on Earth. Straining metal plates twanged and echoedthrough her hallways.     Captain Gwayne cursed and rolled over, reaching for his boots. He wasa big, rawboned man, barely forty; but ten years of responsibilityhad pressed down his shoulders and put age-feigning hollows under hisreddened eyes. The starlanes between Earth and her potential colonieswere rough on the men who traveled them now. He shuffled toward thecontrol room, grumbling at the heavy gravity.     Lieutenant Jane Corey looked up, nodding a blonde head at him as hemoved toward the ever-waiting pot of murky coffee. Morning, Bob. Youneed a shave.     Yeah. He swallowed the hot coffee without tasting it, then ran ahand across the dark stubble on his chin. It could wait. Anything newduring the night?     About a dozen blobs held something like a convention a little waysnorth of us. They broke up about an hour ago and streaked off into theclouds. The blobs were a peculiarity of this planet about which nobodyknew anything. They looked like overgrown fireballs, but seemed to havean almost sentient curiosity about anything moving on the ground. Andour two cadets sneaked out again. Barker followed them, but lost themin the murk. I've kept a signal going to guide them back.     Gwayne swore softly to himself. Earth couldn't turn out enough starmenin the schools, so promising kids were being shipped out for trainingas cadets on their twelfth birthday. The two he'd drawn, Kaufman andPinelli, seemed to be totally devoid of any sense of caution.     Of course there was no obvious need for caution here. The blobs hadn'tseemed dangerous, and the local animals were apparently all herbivorousand harmless. They were ugly enough, looking like insects in spite oftheir internal skeletons, with anywhere from four to twelve legs eachon their segmented bodies. None acted like dangerous beasts.     But      something     had happened to the exploration party fifteen yearsback, and to the more recent ship under Hennessy that was sent to checkup.  <doc-sep>On that day, I walked farther than I had intended and, by the time Igot back home, I found the rest of my family had returned before me.They seemed to be excited about something and were surprised to see meso calm.     Aren't you even interested in anything outside your own immediateconcerns, Kev? Sylvia demanded, despite Father's efforts to shush her.     Can't you remember that Kev isn't able to receive the tellies? Timshot back at her. He probably doesn't even know what's happened.     Well, what did happen? I asked, trying not to snap.     One starship got back from Alpha Centauri, Danny said excitedly.There are two inhabited Earth-type planets there!     This was for me; this was it at last! I tried not to show myenthusiasm, though I knew that was futile. My relatives could keeptheir thoughts and emotions from me; I couldn't keep mine from them.What kind of life inhabits them? Humanoid?     Uh-uh. Danny shook his head. And hostile. The crew of the starshipsays they were attacked immediately on landing. When they turned andleft, they were followed here by one of the alien ships. Must be apretty advanced race to have spaceships. Anyhow, the extraterrestrialship headed back as soon as it got a fix on where ours was going.     But if they're hostile, I said thoughtfully, it might mean war.     Of course. That's why everybody's so wrought up. We hope it's peace,but we'll have to prepare for war just in case.     There hadn't been a war on Earth for well over a hundred years, butwe hadn't been so foolish as to obliterate all knowledge of militarytechniques and weapons. The alien ship wouldn't be able to come backwith reinforcements—if such were its intention—in less than sixmonths. This meant time to get together a stockpile of weapons, thoughwe had no idea of how effective our defenses would be against thealiens' armament.     They might have strange and terrible weapons against which we wouldbe powerless. On the other hand, our side would have the benefitsof telekinetically guided missiles, teleported saboteurs, telepathsto pick up the alien strategy, and prognosticators to determine theoutcome of each battle and see whether it was worth fighting in thefirst place.     Everybody on Earth hoped for peace. Everybody, that is, except me. Ihad been unable to achieve any sense of identity with the world inwhich I lived, and it was almost worth the loss of personal survivalto know that my own smug species could look silly against a still moretalented race.  <doc-sep>The race had blundered safely through its discovery of atomic weaponsinto a peace that had lasted two hundred years. It had managed toprevent an interplanetary war with the Venus colonists. It had founda drive that led to the stars, and hadn't even found intelligent lifethere to be dangerous on the few worlds that had cultures of their own.     But forty years ago, observations from beyond the Solar System hadfinally proved that the sun was going to go nova.     It wouldn't be much of an explosion, as such things go—but it wouldrender the whole Solar System uninhabitable for millenia. To survive,man had to colonize.     And there were no worlds perfect for him, as Earth had been. Theexplorers went out in desperation to find what they could; theterraforming teams did what they could. And then the big starshipsbegan filling worlds with colonists, carried in deep sleep to conservespace.     Almost eighty worlds. The nearest a four month journey from Earth andfour more months back.     In another ten years, the sun would explode, leaving man only on thefootholds he was trying to dig among other solar systems. Maybe someof the strange worlds would let men spread his seed again. Maybe nonewould be spawning grounds for mankind in spite of the efforts. Each wasprecious as a haven for the race.     If this world could be used, it would be nearer than most. If not, asit now seemed, no more time could be wasted here.     Primitives could be overcome, maybe. It would be ruthless and unfair tostrip them of their world, but the first law was survival.     But how could primitives do what these must have done?     He studied the spear he had salvaged. It was on a staff made ofcemented bits of smaller wood from the scrub growth, skillfullylaminated. The point was of delicately chipped flint, done as no humanhand had been able to do for centuries.     Beautiful primitive work, he muttered.     Jane pulled the coffee cup away from her lips and snorted. You cansee a lot more of it out there, she suggested.     He went to the port and glanced out. About sixty of the things weresquatting in the clearing fog, holding lances and staring at the ship.They were perhaps a thousand yards away, waiting patiently. For what?For the return of their leader—or for something that would give theship to them?     Gwayne grabbed the phone and called Barker. How's the captive coming?     Barker's voice sounded odd.     Physically fine. You can see him. But—     Gwayne dropped the phone and headed for the little sick bay. He sworeat Doc for not calling him at once, and then at himself for notchecking up sooner. Then he stopped at the sound of voices.     There was the end of a question from Barker and a thick, harsh growlingsound that lifted the hair along the nape of Gwayne's neck. Barkerseemed to understand, and was making a comment as the captain dashed in.     The captive was sitting on the bunk, unbound and oddly unmenacing. Thethick features were relaxed and yet somehow intent. He seemed to makesome kind of a salute as he saw Gwayne enter, and his eyes burned upunerringly toward the device on the officer's cap.     Haarroo, Cabbaan! the thing said.  <doc-sep></s> [SEP] What does the mystery metal found on the starship signify in Captain Midas?","[""Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle.  When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn.  With this introduction, they begin to travel together.The woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped.  The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape.  Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked.  He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below.  He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows.  The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow.  Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.Noork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned.  He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's father's woman woman called Sarna.Noork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull.  He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna.  After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna.  Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.Noork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest.  He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna.  They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle.  They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them.  At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk.  Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this.  Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed.  Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle."", 'Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. Noork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. Though Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. Doctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. ', 'Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. Noork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. Noork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.Noork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.', ""Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word New York, and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna.""]"